‘Have you what?’
He moved his head angrily. ‘Lost any of my,’ he paused too, his lip curling, ‘expertise?’ he snarled.
Alex shrugged, trying to keep an outward appearance of nonchalance. ‘Obviously not, wouldn’t you say?’ she said lightly.
His eyes spoke volumes, shooting sparks, and his fingers were biting into the flesh of her arm. ‘Perhaps you ought to try for seconds. Just to give you an all-over average. It could be almost a second opinion.’ He dragged her brutally against him, his lips crushing hers without any care for the pain he was inflicting.
And half of her admitted she deserved it while the other half fought against him with all her strength. Any fight she could put up wasn’t enough. In strength he could overpower her fivefold.
Then suddenly he had released her, thrusting her back against the pillow. He levered himself off the bed, striding unselfconsciously across the floor to retrieve his discarded trousers. His solid nakedness held a primitive beauty, and Alex watched almost mesmerised as his muscles rippled as he moved. She lay back where he had thrown her, one hand pressed to her bruised lips.
‘Sorry to disappoint, Alex.’ He turned as he zipped his slacks. ‘But it seems I’ve lost a little of my touch. I must be getting old.’ His eyes raked her from head to foot as she lay on the bed. ‘However, quite frankly, at the moment you just turn me off.’
She heard him move about in the living-room as he collected his shirt and jacket, and then the front door of her flat closed with a decisive and very final click. By the time she reached the open window of her bedroom he had negotiated a swift three-point turn and the hire car was speeding away down the street.
Alex moved slowly back to the bed, sinking down on to the rumpled sheets, knowing without a doubt that it was unlikely that she would ever see him again. He would never return after the things she had said to him.
Had she really voiced all those hateful words? Had it all been necessary? Somehow she doubted it. After all, she could not honestly lay the blame for last night entirely on him. Their lovemaking had been a mutual thing, a coming together of two people who had hungered for each other.
She buried her face in her hands and when the tears finally came she sank back on to the pillows where she and Justin had lain together and cried broken-heartedly for the first time in years. The tears had been building up inside her and although she wept because she had lost him she knew that another part of herself had been lost as well. The young and vivacious teenager, with a heart full of idealistic love for a knight in shining armour, seemed at this moment to belong to another time, almost another century.
She had had the chance to try to make their marriage whole again and she had now severed the tie for ever. Oh, no, Justin would never come back, after all she’d said to him. She felt sure he would now sue for divorce and, once he was free of her, Margot would be waiting with open arms to make him the right kind of wife for a man in his position.
It was useless trying to tell herself that he had not mentioned a reconciliation with her, that he had taken what was available, because those thoughts in no way cancelled out the revulsion she felt for herself.
At least this break decided the issue. It was over and done with in one quick sharp incision. If she had allowed him to think she had forgotten all that went before then she would have been back six years, living on the edge of a precipice, waiting for the break to come. He wanted a wife who went along with him, agreed with his ideas, and she could never have allowed him to swallow her personality and have retained her self-respect. She had done the right and sensible thing, she told herself. But for all that the sobs shook her body and she suffered the pain of her loss once again.
The trauma of the past hours had taken its toll and she drifted into an uneasy sleep. The shrill insistence of the telephone in the living-room woke her an hour later and she stumbled dizzily to lift the receiver, in that unguarded moment hoping it would be Justin.
‘Alex? Hi there!’
Her heart plummeted depressingly. ‘Hello, Paul.’ She tried to infuse some welcome into her voice, feeling guilty for that first instant of disappointment that his wasn’t the voice she had hoped to hear. ‘You’re an early bird.’
‘I didn’t wake you, did I?’ He sounded contrite.
‘No, not really. I was just dozing.’
‘Good. We’ve finished loading up the gear and we’re heading off now. When do you think you’ll be leaving?’
‘I’m not sure exactly, Paul. I… I have to finish packing.’
‘Well, we’ll leave the key of the flat down at the Restaurant. We decided we’d at least unload the equipment today and then spend the afternoon on the beach. Want to join us?’
‘I’m… I’m not sure, Paul. I’ll try. Which beach? Surfers?’
‘Yep! I’d better go. Try and make it, won’t you. You look divine in a bikini.’
Alex looked down and realised for the first time that she wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing, and she folded her arm about herself protectively.
Paul was chuckling. ‘Well, see you down there. Oh, Alex, by the way, I take it de Wilde get you home all right?’
‘Of course, Paul.’ Alex’s lips moved stiffly.
‘Good. He, um, he seemed to be a human sort of guy, considering his position, I mean. He’s quite a bigwig in his field, you know. What did you talk about on the way home?’
‘Talk about? Nothing earth-shattering. We didn’t really talk much at all.’ Alex relaxed the vicelike grip she had on the receiver.
‘You didn’t mind having him take you home, did you?’ he asked worriedly. ‘For a moment there I had a feeling you didn’t, well, that you weren’t too fussed about him.’
‘Of course I didn’t mind. Why should I?’ Alex closed her eyes tightly. ‘I guess I’d best go and finish my packing. I’ll see you down there later. Thanks for ringing, Paul.’
‘Yes, well, see you, Alex.’
***
The turquoise blue sheen of the water flashed almost painfully in the fierce mid-afternoon sunshine and, in fact, if one intended to gaze towards the swimming pool for any length of time sunglasses were a must. About the pool tall palms and bushy greenery provided patches of welcome shade, a tropical coolness, and quite a number of the guests were taking advantage of the low comfortable patio chairs set about under the trees and nearer to the water.
Justin de Wilde was stretched out on one of these chairs beneath a gaily striped fringed umbrella. A long cool drink, looking quietly potent, sat untouched on the nearby table, diamond like beads of moisture gathering on the outside of the glass, developing a pool at the base. The ice cubes had long since melted away, but for all that it looked cool and refreshing.
Earlier in the afternoon he had spent some time in the pool, but his brief swim shorts, his only attire, had now dried and he was beginning to feel the heat of the afternoon again.
In the few days he had been at the island resort his tan had deepened. He had the right type of skin to tan easily without burning, and more than one pair of female eyes had followed him as he swam a number of lengths of the pool with long seemingly effortless strokes, the sun glistening on the rippling muscles of his shoulders and back as he cut rhythmically through the water.
Now a pair of dark glasses shielded his eyes from the glare and he held an open book, one of the latest bestsellers, resting on his crossed bare legs. A gold watch glittered on his wrist and to all outward appearances he was totally engrossed in the novel. This fact, however, was belied as he rarely turned a page.
Justin sighed and let his eyes move around the pool and its vicinity. Fortunately the dark glasses disguised the fact that his book was not holding his attention, as he was aware that the two women sharing the table a short distance from him were simply waiting for an excuse to approach him. This knowledge, that they thought him interesting,
brought him no pleasure. They were themselves quite attractive women, but he found their obviousness an irritation.
But then everything irritated him at the moment. Making polite conversation with everyone irritated him. Being pressed into taking advantage of the resort’s facilities irritated him. Margot and Graham irritated him. He felt his mouth twist cynically. He damn well irritated himself.
He ran a hand through his hair which had dried a little stiffly from his swim in the pool and noticing the drink by his side he raised it to his lips and took a sip. He grimaced. The chill had gone off it, but he supposed it was still thirst-quenching. He set it back on the table and tried for the umpteenth time to pick up the thread of his story.
He had really been looking forward to this break, his first real holiday in years, and now here he was wasting it. He’d sat about the hotel for the past three days, boring himself witless.
At least today Margot had accompanied Graham on a boat trip out to the reef. Since he had joined them here on Sunday evening Margot had tried unsuccessfully to coax him out of his black mood. Little did she know that nothing and no one could have done that, with the exception of Alex, perhaps.
When he drove away from her flat on Sunday morning he knew he could quite literally have throttled her with his bare hands. Never before had he come so close to wanting to physically harm another human being as much as he had wanted to punish Alex that morning. And if he admitted it he was just as angry with himself for that night. Things had not gone according to plan.
Somehow he knew before he went that going to the restaurant was a mistake, but he’d gone anyway, to see her, maybe talk to her. That was all he had in mind.
All the while he had had a vague idea that there was a chance they might find something of the feeling they had once had for each other. What an expert piece of self-delusion that was, he thought wryly. Some naive fool he was!
He had decided to play it by ear, take it slowly, see if the memories of Alex that had haunted him could be put into some perspective if he saw her again. And he thought he had succeeded. Until he noticed how that young pup was looking at her with adoring eyes. That had hit him right where it hurt, and his blood had started to boil. Alex was still his wife, after all, and until he said the word she would stay his wife.
As the thought crossed his mind he grimaced. He sounded like an escapee from a Victorian novel. He had no right to dictate terms to Alex.
Of course, had he listened to his head instead of his damned bruised ego he would have let it rest there. But no, he had to stick his toes in, take her home, make a point of going into her flat with her. He knew she didn’t want him to, but that had made him all the more determined. Wasn’t he supposed to be a rational, thinking, civilised adult? He laughed self-derisively. Oh, he’d been civilised all right.
Darling Alex, You know how I love thee. The words written in the book were branded on his mind and he knew he had lost control of himself and the situation round about then. He tried to convince himself that it was only that same bruised ego reacting, but he had a gut feeling it ran far deeper than that.
A picture of Alex in Paul Denman’s arms swam before him and he put a hand to his jaw as it clenched tightly, the peaceful surroundings of the pool fading into a hazy insignificant shadow in that moment. That another man could kiss her, caress her the way he had done was an agony he couldn’t contain. She was in his blood, and he felt a light film of perspiration bead on his brow at the anger he felt against himself.
His recollections of the hours spent with her only fanned that self-derisive flame. He had always prided himself on his self-control and while he couldn’t deny that his body had delighted in her touch, the reciprocated passion, he was now filled with revulsion at his lack of restraint.
No wonder she had been so scathing! And yet hard on the heels of that thought came the balancing memory of her own response. He would never believe that Alex hadn’t been as aroused as he had been. It was as though the years between had never passed, and they were still in the first blissful months of their marriage.
He felt the familiar stirring in his blood and his whole body tensed. If he had started out to lay any ghosts he had failed miserably. Alex was there, a part of him, and her parting words made him shift sharply in his chair. Yes, he’d really blown the whole situation. When he was with her he acted completely out of character. So much for the controlled, the suave, the so very sophisticated Justin de Wilde!
‘Justin darling! There you are!’ Margot Donald swept across the pebbled paving of the poolside with all the grace and impact that surrounded her on the stage. In a bright emerald green sunsuit, her auburn hair neatly confined by a matching scarf, she appeared to be oblivious of the attention she was attracting.
Justin felt himself cringe. At the moment he needed this aloneness, and he knew he could never hope to make Margot understand that need. She thrived only when she was encircled by people. He watched a small frown of annoyance cross her face at his lack of enthusiasm for her presence, although he had to admit she was a striking-looking woman. They had known each other from their student days, had even indulged in a brief affair that was halted when Margot left to expand her studies overseas. Justin had missed her for a while, but not lastingly. Not the way he missed…
When his mother touched delicately and, she thought, subtly, upon the subject of his remarriage, she usually just happened to mention Margot. And looking at Margot now he knew why his mother thought she would make him an ideal wife. She was attractive, poised, talented, but… If he was honest with himself he could see no further than a heart-shaped gamin face and long silky fair hair, and no matter how much they dissented it would always be that way for him.
So what was he to do about it? he asked himself as Margot sank elegantly on to the low chair she had pulled rather disgruntledly to his side. If he had one iota of sense he would simply cut his losses, leave Alex to the boy with the sorrowful eyes, take up his life from here, and forget her. However, be didn’t hold much for his acting sensibly where Alex was concerned if last weekend was anything to go by.
He tried to concentrate on Margot’s ecstatic descriptions of the reef and he felt the now familiar grip of irritation rising within him. When the hotel paged him he had to stop himself from sprinting away to take the telephone call.
Chapter 5
‘You know, you kids are great. If we get many more compliments I can see I’ll have to give you a raise in salary.’ Chris Georgi slapped Paul on the back and then blew Alex a very expressive kiss. ‘Did I tell you we’re completely booked out for tonight and tomorrow night?’
‘Great!’ grinned Danny. ‘You don’t suppose there’s a chance that there’ll be a scout from some record company in the audience, do you? One who’ll make us all famous?’
‘Listen to him! You mean you’d leave me in the lurch?’ Chris appealed to the others. ‘That’s gratitude for you!’
‘You know we wouldn’t do that, Chris,’ laughed Paul. ‘We’d give you a couple of hours to get a replacement.’
Chris shook his head in mock reproach. ‘How’s the flat? Have you settled in all right?’
‘Sure have. And we’ve made a fantastic discovery.’ Paul put his arm around Alex’s shoulders. ‘Not only is she beautiful, not only can she sing like an angel, but she’s a Cordon Bleu cook!’
‘Hardly that, Paul.’ Alex smiled, knowing that her smile was merely a lifting of the corners of her mouth. ‘I hide the empty cans in the kitchen tidy.’
‘Well, we’re none of us complaining, sweetie,’ laughed Jeff.
Paul left his arm lightly around Alex’s shoulders as they moved off to change for the evening’s performance and, instead of walking on to the other dressing room with Danny and Jeff, he followed Alex into hers and closed her door. Knowing what was coming, Alex crossed to her small dressing table and picked up her make-up, steeling herself in readiness.
‘Alex, are you sure you aren’t sick or something?’ asked Paul, all concern.
‘Sick? How could I be sick living down here?’ she replied quickly. ‘All this healthy sunshine and invigorating body surfing. I’ve got a great tan already.’ And she knew she had. Each day the four of them spent some time on the beach, sunbathing and swimming or riding their surfboards.
Paul looked at her levelly. ‘I know, I know. All that’s true. But the dark circles under your eyes are getting worse.’ He gently moved his finger in semi-circles over her cheeks. ‘I also know you’re not sleeping. I can hear you moving about the flat when you should be getting your beauty sleep. What’s up, Alex? You’ve been like this since we came down to the coast.’
Her eyes fell from his. ‘There’s nothing wrong, Paul. I think I’ve simply let myself get a bit run down. Maybe I need some vitamins.’ She put everything she could into making her smile normal.
A frown still puckered Paul’s brow and he sighed. ‘Well, if you say so, Alex. I worry about you, though. You know how it is.’ He smiled crookedly.
‘There’s really no need to worry about me.’ Alex put her hand on his arm. ‘I’m fine. And you’re truly the nicest, kindest person I know, and if I had any sense I’d…’ She stopped, wishing it could be that easy. If only she could put everything behind her, start afresh. And she would go a long way before she met anyone as considerate as Paul. But…
‘If you had any sense you’d snap me up?’ finished Paul, smiling sadly. ‘I wish you would.’ He ran a hand up her bare arm and pulled her gently against him, his lips meeting hers, cool and tentative.
It was a pleasant enough, if unexciting kiss. Paul’s kisses were like himself—gentle, without force, almost a need for reassurance. And Alex allowed him to kiss her for much the same reason. She needed reassurance herself, needed desperately to be held, needed someone to care.
She closed her eyes and returned his kiss with a mixture of relief and compassion, because he was there when she needed someone. However, he took her response for encouragement and his kiss deepened, became a passionate demand, taking her completely by surprise. He pulled her closer, and suddenly it wasn’t Paul’s arms around her. The arms were strong and tanned. The lips weren’t Paul’s lips, they were full and sensual. His…
Play Our Song Again (Lynsey Stevens Romance Book 13) Page 6