FEVER PITCH
Sarah Holland
She didn't even have to know his name
An inner voice told Louisa her life had been utterly transformed the moment she'd met Jacey. Although they were total strangers, something in his panther-like eyes told her he knew her better than she knew herself.
United by a powerful attraction, they became closer than either thought possible. Then Jacey went away.
Not knowing if he'd return, Louisa let her stubborn will to survive lead her into the arms of another man. Yet even though she should be happy, it was as if half of her was missing...
CHAPTER ONE
Louisa was in the middle of a conversation when she sensed it. She stiffened, frowning, her words trailing away into empty space. Bobby stood beside her, watching her, waiting for her to finish her sentence. But she didn't speak. Slowly she turned her head to look over her shoulder.
Then she saw him, his eyes gleaming in the darkness, two pinpoints of brilliant, predatory green light.
Her heart stopped with a thud, then quickened, her pulses leaping. There was something magnetic in that narrow-eyed stare, as though he knew her better than she knew herself, although they were total strangers. She held his gaze, her own eyes wide, dark and intense.
The pounding thud of the music fed into her bloodstream, the backdrop of incessant party chatter faded into the distance. Louisa had been alone for so long, distanced from her friends by an abyss which could never be crossed. Now fate was smiling on her, it had sent her a partner to fight the lonely hostile world with.
'Who is that man?' she asked under her breath, never taking her eyes off him.
Bobby peered across the room like a short-sighted owl. 'They call him Jacey,' he said into his glass. 'Don't know his real name.'
Jacey. His name was as unusual as he was. Louisa turned back to study him across the noisy heated room, and felt excitement throb in her bloodstream. It was a crazy, once-in-a-lifetime experience. The French called it coup de foudre, or struck by lightning. Italians called it the thunderbolt. Louisa called it the most exhilarating, incredible feeling ever to move inside her.
Bobby was nursing his drink, his face owlish. 'Bit of a mystery man, really,' he continued. 'No one knows who he is or where he comes from. He just turns up out of the blue whenever he feels like it.'
They were watching each other, she and Jacey, eyes fever-bright, taking their time, knowing one another so totally that it was as though they could strip away the layers of skin and bone to reveal the raw strength beneath.
Louisa had never felt she belonged; she had always felt excluded, set apart, different. The stigma of her birth had locked into her soul, haunting her life, destroying her emotional contact with others. Illegitimacy was a frightening word to live with. But she knew that this man wouldn't care. She knew he would want her fiercely, the same way she wanted him. Destiny was drawing them together irrevocably.
'Shall I introduce you?' Bobby asked, seeing the rapid pulse that beat at her throat, the excitement in her flashing black eyes. 'You can't take your eyes off each other! Someone ought to put you both out of your misery!'
Louisa watched him laugh and felt her heart beat faster. 'That won't be necessary,' she murmured, almost unable to speak through her excitement. They would meet—in time.
Bobby seemed surprised, peering at her, brows raised, eyes wide. 'You're kidding!' His eyes flickered slightly in his surprise. 'You're almost eating each other across the room!'
It was true. But Louisa didn't want to meet him at a party with so many other people around, watching them. She wouldn't be able to relax, be able to be honest with him. This was so special, so intensely personal that she knew they had to meet alone, with no distractions, no complications. She could feel herself breathing rapidly, her heart hammering at her breastbone, and she didn't want to control it, didn't want to hide it. This was real and exciting. It showed in her eyes, the fever-bright sheen as she studied him.
She felt the crackle of frenetic energy inside her, because he smiled at her, and she felt her heart somersault so wildly that she had to look away in breathless confusion.
Bobby noticed. 'I see,' he said, grinning as she stared blankly at the wilting plant in the corner of the room. 'Not your type after all? That's a first! I shouldn't tell him, he might not like it!'
Louisa felt a secret smile touch her mouth. 'I don't think he'd give a damn,' she said under her breath.
Bobby's head swung to scrutinise Jacey. 'No,' he said wonderingly, 'I don't think he would.' He shook his head with amusement. 'He's an arrogant bastard.'
No, thought Louisa, he's not arrogant. He's just strong. In the same way that I am—because life gave us no other choice. In this world you either get the role of victim or hunter—unless you're born with a silver spoon in your mouth. You're either a winner or a loser. And Louisa had been a loser, and a victim, all her life until three years ago. Then she had made a conscious decision—no one was ever going to beat her again. And no one ever had.
She kept her thoughts and feelings hidden behind a mask. No one saw behind her face into her mind. No one saw into her heart. She'd learned early that when you're vulnerable you get attacked, and she'd been hurt too many times to leave herself open to attack.
She turned to Bobby with a warm smile. 'I'd better be off now.' She put her drink down on the mantel, her eyes flickering with restless thoughts, 'I'll see you at work on Monday.'
Bobby made a face. 'Party pooper! It's only midnight.' He sighed, 'Well, I suppose you know best. But get an early night tomorrow—you know you always look dead on Monday mornings!'
Louisa smiled and gave him a pat on the head. 'See you!'
The man called Jacey watched her as she left the room. She felt his eyes searing into her back, and as she reached the door, she turned. Their eyes met and she read the signal in his with a leap of excitement. He would follow—when he was ready.
Other pairs of eyes watched as she passed, paying homage to her beauty.
Even at a distance, Louisa Faulkner was breathtaking. The huge flashing black eyes dominated a face with regal bone structure that was strikingly beautiful. Cascades of midnight black hair slid around her shoulders to draw attention to her sensual but elegant body.
She left the noise and heat of the party behind her, walking slowly into the crisp winter air, alone in the night. London watched her silently as she walked, regarding her with an air of detached interest.
She heard the door of the house swing open, the noise escaping for a moment. Then the door closed and she listened to the cool click of his heels as he came after her.
He caught up with her, his long legs unhurried as he reached her side. She felt her nerve-endings crackle at his presence.
'You should have waited for me,' he said, sliding an amused glance at her from those panther-green eyes.
A smile touched her full pink mouth. 'Should I ?' she murmured, without looking at him.
'I might not have followed you,' he pointed out coolly as they turned the white stone corner, walking beneath a golden street lamp.
'Then,' said Louisa quietly, 'you wouldn't have been worth waiting for.'
He stopped walking, and studied her. Then he laughed softly under his breath, watching her in an electric silence. The chill wind blew a strand of her hair across her face, a taxi could be heard in another street, its engine distant.
'What's your name?' he asked softly.
'Louisa.'
He raised one dark brow. 'Sounds Latin,' he murmured, and the breeze ruffled his thick black hair. He raked a hand through it silently, pushing it back over his tanned forehead. 'And do you live up to it?' His smile was crooked, amused. 'Are you hot-blooded and intense?'
She studied him for a long
moment, aware of his strength in every nerve-ending in her body. What she was experiencing seemed so impossible, and yet so totally real.
'Yes,' she said slowly, and a smile touched her mouth, 'I live up to my name.'
He considered her with those brilliant green eyes, the sooty lashes resting on his tanned cheek. 'I believe you do.' A lazy, wicked smile touched his mouth. 'Shall I tell you what you look like? What you remind me of?'
Louisa stiffened, her face tightening imperceptibly. 'Go ahead,' she said coolly, waiting in case he was going to insult her. Could she have been wrong about him?
'You look like a royal princess,' he told her softly, and one long finger stroked her neck until it reached the leaping pulse in her throat. 'A royal princess who's just stepped out of her lover's bed.'
Her breath caught in her throat. She stared at him with increasing excitement, then she felt a soft laugh touch her throat, and she smiled at him.
'I am,' she said softly.
He watched her in silence, noting the furious leap of her pulses at his words. The angular, hard-boned face was expressionless, his lithe body still, held in the grip of a powerful attraction.
'I see the illicit excites you,' he drawled, and one dark brow rose as he waited for her reply.
She felt breathless, lightheaded. 'Yes.'
He smiled into the silence, his eyes sliding over her body. 'No coat?' He raised one brow as he studied her short black dress. 'That's a beautiful dress, but aren't you cold?'
'A little.' The cold couldn't touch her tonight. She was almost walking on air. She didn't own a coat, couldn't afford one, and usually had to suffer for it. But not tonight. The magic would keep her warm tonight.
'I'm not usually so gallant,' Jacey said smokily, and his eyes glinted as he slid his jacket off, 'but I wouldn't be a gentleman if I didn't offer you mine.'
Louisa raised one brow in seductive challenge. 'You don't look like a gentleman to me,' she said softly.
He stopped, making her heart skid, and leaned towards her, holding the collar of the jacket beneath her chin.
'I'm not,' he murmured huskily.
Louisa shivered as his hands slid from her throat over her shoulders and down her arms in a deliberately sensual movement. She couldn't move because her heart wouldn't let her, it was thumping too fast.
He caught her hand in his. 'Let's walk,' he said softly, then smiled.
They walked around London for the rest of the night. Occasionally they stopped, going into all-night cafes, sitting across from one another drinking black coffee and talking. Talking endlessly, discovering each other, reaching each other. And as they talked, they fell deeper and deeper in love until Louisa wondered how she had ever existed without him.
Her feet ached from walking, her throat dry from talking, but still she walked by his side, her hand in his, talking animatedly, her excitement growing by the minute.
'London at dawn,' Jacey commented as they walked beside the walls of Buckingham Palace. The streets were crisp, silent. Distant sounds of life were beginning to be heard as the occasional car drove along. 'Beautiful, isn't it? It always makes me feel more optimistic to wait up at dawn and see the city come alive.'
She tilted her head to look at him with a curious smile. 'Does it?'
He nodded, smiling. 'It's easier to believe in tomorrow if you see it born.' He raised her hand to his mouth and pressed his firm lips against it, the gesture at once both intensely sexy and tender. 'Watching life begin again proves that you can always make a new start, try again.'
Louisa smiled into his eyes. 'I've never looked at it like that before.' The truth in his statement had reached her, made her think. She was beginning to realise that he had incredible depth, that everything he said was thought-provoking.
Jacey stopped, leaning lazily against the cold brick walls of the Palace gardens. 'No matter how many times you get knocked down, you always have to get up again,' He said gently, and smiled. 'People are always going to kick your face in, whatever you try to do to stop them. You just have to keep on smiling, keep on picking yourself up off the floor.'
Their hands slid together in a heartfelt caress, and Louisa smiled with her soul. 'I wish we'd met a long time ago,' she said, laughing light-heartedly.
He frowned, curious. 'Why? What happened a long time ago?'
She sighed, avoiding his eyes for a moment. How did you tell a man you were falling hopelessly in love with that you were illegitimate? Easy, she thought sadly, just say it. I'm illegitimate. But she wasn't ready. She couldn't hand him her soul on a plate.
'When I first left home,' she said slowly, 'I came here, to the West End. I was seventeen, I had no money, no friends, and nowhere to go. I slept rough that first night, and when I woke up it was dawn.' She shuddered at the memory and looked across at Jacey. 'London looked cold and hostile, and I hated it. It made me feel empty ... empty and numb.'
Jacey frowned, his dark brows linking. 'That was dangerous, wasn't it?'
She laughed softly, looking at him with sad eyes. 'What else could I do? London is unkind to strangers with no money.'
He tilted his dark head to one side. 'But you don't have a London accent.'
She shook her head. 'Cultivated. I was born in the East End.' Her smile was dry, her brows raised. 'It's a world apart, believe me. I had to drop it in order to hold down a job.'
Jacey nodded, looking down at her and Louisa's pulses leapt crazily The excitement was crackling between them. She had never felt anything so powerful, so intense before.
'Hungry?' he asked huskily.
She nodded, breathless, her throat tight. 'Very.'
He smiled slowly, and she almost swayed against him. 'Good. I know a lovely little place near here—not too expensive, but the food's good.'
She groaned, laughing. 'Not another of your little cafes!'
Jacey caught her hand, grinning. 'And why not?'
Their eyes met in a riveting caress, and Louisa felt as though all the breath had been knocked out of her. She couldn't move, couldn't speak. She was afraid to break the spell.
She stared at him intensely. Then she said, 'I don't think I could eat a thing.'
Jacey was totally still for a moment, then he slowly took her hand and pressed it to his tightly muscled chest until she felt the deep thud of his heart that matched her own.
'I know,' he said simply. Then he smiled, and they walked in silence to Park Lane.
They ate in a little cafe on Park Lane, sitting by the window, watching London come alive. Louisa felt she had known Jacey for as long as she had known herself. There was a magical honesty between them.
'So when did you leave home?' Jacey asked, sipping coffee from an earthen brown mug.
Louisa dropped her gaze to her own coffee: 'Three years ago,' she said huskily. A part of her wanted desperately to tell him the truth about her background. But she decided against it. That could wait. Smiling, she looked back at him. 'How about you?'
He laughed, exposing sharp white teeth. 'God!' He rested his chin in one lean tanned hand, his face thoughtfully amused. 'Well, I'm thirty-six now, so it must have been eighteen years ago.' His eyes rested on her face. 'Does that make me sound very old?' he asked gently.
'You're as old as you feel.' She sipped her steaming coffee, smiling at him. It didn't matter a damn to her how old he was. He mattered to her, and that was all that counted.
He considered her with panther-green eyes. 'How true,' he agreed. He placed his hand over hers and an electric shock ran through her. 'I think we go well together, Louisa,' he said deeply.
'Yes,' she said breathlessly.
Her life changed overnight. Before she met him her world had been empty and sad, she had been isolated, alone. No one had reached her, no one had pierced the core of her loneliness, come close to the reality of her character.
Now at last she had found someone who understood without being told, who could see behind the defences behind the cool mask to the real Louisa. He wasn't fooled by t
he self-confident air she fought desperately to keep, he saw she was vulnerable, alone, and he saw how much she needed him.
In her turn, Louisa saw behind his defences too. She saw behind the fleshless hard-boned face to the strength inside him, saw the burning intelligence in his brilliant green eyes, saw the warmth and tenderness which went hand in hand with his strength.
She saw herself in him and knew they were perfectly matched.
'Are you sure he's right for you?' Bobby's worried voice came from behind the counter at the bookshop where they worked. Louisa could just see the top of his sandy head bobbing about behind it as he stamped prices on books.
'I'm sure,' she said lightly.
Bobby peered at her over the counter. 'Listen, I know you're a tough cookie, you can take care of yourself, but ‑' he sighed, 'well, no one knows anything about him. He could be anyone.'
She eyed him. 'No, he couldn't,' she said softly. 'He could only ever be Jacey.'
She stopped what she was doing and put the books down. She knew all she needed to know about Jacey. They were two of a kind—restless, haunted spirits who were strong enough to look out for themselves, but needed each other just the same.
Bobby stood up from the floor, dusting the knees of his old blue suit. 'You will be careful, won't you? You hardly know him.'
She laughed softly. 'I have been seeing him for over a month, Bobby.'
Bobby grunted irritably. 'A month! That isn't long enough. For all you know he could be Bluebeard with six dead wives locked in the attic.'
Her cheeks dimpled. 'He hasn't got an attic, Bobby!'
But it wasn't that. She knew Jacey better than she knew herself. They were soulmates, shaped in the same way by similar knocks, their characters slotting together like two halves of a jigsaw puzzle.
The bell jangled as the shop door opened. Louisa looked up, and her heart thudded faster as she saw the familiar dark figure walk in casually, closing the door behind him.
'Hello,' Jacey said smokily, walking over to where she stood.
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