Clare glanced after them as they walked out on to the floor. Macey slid his arm round Ray's waist and laced his fingers through her hand. Ray didn't look at him, her eyes lowered.
They moved into the other dancers. Clare suddenly saw Ray's lips quivering. She found it so painful that she looked away.
There was no way of guessing what was in Macey's mind. He had all the gifts of an actor—a voice which could coax or threaten, a face which deceived and a mind which escaped behind it. He looked polite and casual as he manoeuvred Ray round the floor, but Macey knew the brush of his body against Ray was making her skin so pale it looked dead white, making Ray tremble in his arms as though with a chill.
Looking back over the years of knowing Macey, Clare had to realise that her own instincts were blunt and dull. How many times had Macey leant over her to kiss her briefly? How many times had he dropped one of those dry little comments? How often had they danced together? And nothing of what was going on inside Macey's head had penetrated her realisation!
When Macey guided Ray back to the table Rowena was leaning back with closed eyes, indulging in a brief nap, apparently. Macey shot her an amused look before glancing at Clare, his brows lifted enquiringly, offering her his hand.
Ray sat down and Clare rose, taking Macey's fingers. Every hair on the back of her neck rose up in alarm and excitement. She had danced with Macey dozens of times before, but now she walked into his arms, every muscle rigid, her skin taut, every cell flickering with awareness.
She felt his eyes skimming her averted profile as they danced. He had danced very correctly with Ray, but he had both hands on Clare's waist and she was holding his wide shoulders, her fingertips close to his neck. It was the way they always danced, but never before had the intimacy of their touching bodies made her tremble. Macey's thighs brushed her own and she had to fight not to reveal how that contact affected her. She stared over his shoulder fixedly, the scent of his aftershave in her nostrils.
Macey slid his hands slowly up her back. His fingers touched the bare skin exposed by her daring little dress and she felt them shift restlessly, stroking her flesh. Someone swerved beside them in a dramatic piece of dancing and Macey drew her closer to avoid them. Clare's hands involuntarily moved and she felt her fingers brush his brown throat. The touch of his skin made her jump and her eyes lifted before she had known what she was doing. Macey looked down at her, his lids lowered, the blue eyes hard and enigmatic.
He wasn't showing a thing, and Clare knew she was showing everything. Macey was reading her feelings without difficulty. She was acting with as much lack of control as Ray, she thought in self-distaste.
She drew away, hurriedly pulling herself together. 'I'm tired. Can we go soon?'
'Whenever you like,' Macey drawled, smiling slightly.
That smile bothered her. She suddenly realised that they were going back to a house where they would be alone. They had been alone in it for days and it had never made her feel she was being stretched on a rack before. Her nerves ran with fire and she looked away, swallowing.
They went back to the table and Rowena woke up with a neat careful awareness of where she was, smiling at them majestically. Macey gave a smooth excuse about Clare being tired and Rowena said: 'Tired? The young have no stamina. I'm never tired.'
'You're an example to us all,' Macey assured her, kissing her hand.
'One I notice you don't follow,' Rowena informed him as he rose.
He grinned at her. 'I'm taking notes.'
Ted Kilby murmured something polite as Clare smiled at him. Ray gave her a smile that made Clare feel sick. Macey flung a general glance in their direction before guiding Clare away. Ray's glance followed them and although Clare could not see it, she felt it.
The drive back to the villa was silent. Clare wished it could go on much longer. She wasn't looking forward to arriving. She was tense and strung-up and Macey's occasional sardonic looks told her he knew exactly how she felt.
When he had parked the car he followed her inside and stood looking at her wryly as she mumbled something about feeling sleepy.
She turned away and his hand shot out to capture her wrist. She looked at him in stricken confusion, flushing wildly.
'Shall we get it over with?' Macey asked on a dry note.
'What?' She couldn't meet the blue eyes, her glance averted.
'You know what,' said Macey, tugging on her wrist to pull her towards him. 'You've been palpitating all evening waiting for me to do this, so we might as well have the expected scene. Then you can put it out of your mind and start behaving normally.'
She put up a hand to thrust his wide shoulders back and Macey ran his free arm round her, holding her closer, his hand curving below her breast.
She looked up to say something angrily and their eyes met. Clare felt a peculiar, pulsing excitement start deep inside her.
Her eyes dropped to Macey's lips. She looked at them and knew she had never looked at them before and seen them, not with this concentrated attention. His mouth was so beautifully moulded, hard and controlled yet with a warmth which held her eyes.
He didn't move for a moment, holding her, then his mouth lowered and Clare began to shake at the first brush of it. The hands at his shoulders clenched on his jacket, she yielded to the pressing hand pulling her closer and as she did so Macey's lips parted hers. Hunger flared between them. Clare's hands crept to his neck. Her fingers trembled as they stroked the thick black hair. Her lips quivered and burned as Macey fed demandingly on them.
It was Macey who drew back. Clare was lying against him, her arms round his neck, her body surrendered weakly to the restless caress of his moving hands. When he took hold of her shoulders in a biting grip and held her away from him she looked at him dazedly, flushed and mindless, trembling.
'That's enough,' Macey said thickly, his voice hard.
Clare stared at him, unable for a moment to understand what he had said.
'You'd better get off to bed now,' he told her coolly, his voice clearing slightly.
Clare didn't move. She was still wrapped in the unbelievable pleasure she had felt as Macey kissed her.
'Unless you want me to come with you,' he said derisively, his black brows flickering in a cool mockery.
Her face filled with burning heat. 'Oh,' she said huskily, pulling away from him.
As she turned towards the door Macey murmured, 'Oh, indeed,' very softly. Clare fled from the room and heard him laugh under his breath.
CHAPTER EIGHT
In her room she sank down on the bed and stared at her own feet, torn between shock and disbelief. She couldn't believe what had just taken place. She hadn't wanted Macey to stop. The heady sweetness of that kiss had only just started and she had wanted more, yet Macey had voluntarily stopped, although she knew he had found it as dizzily exciting as she had. She couldn't be wrong about that. All her newfound instincts had told her that Macey's heart had been thudding as violently as her own, that the hands caressing her had been trembling and that the deep probe of his kiss had been fierce with passion.
Yet he had stopped. Baffled, she lifted her head to stare at the door. Why? Why had he broken off their lovemaking when for the first time she had been responding?
When he drily said that she should go to bed, adding that he might come with her, she had run away in shaken dismay and Macey had laughed. Clare considered that, frowning. What was going on behind that clever face? What was Macey up to?
She couldn't hear a sound. Macey wasn't going to bed. Clare stood up, forcing her thoughts down. She would never sleep while she was in this distracted, disturbed state. She stripped and took a warm shower, her face turned to the needles of water, eyes closed, fighting to keep her mind free of thought.
She wandered around the bedroom in her short towelling robe, trying to pull herself together. Her nightdress lay across the bed, a brief filmy lemon creation. She sighed and picked it up. Dropping her robe, she slid into the nightie and climbed into bed. The li
ght clicked off, and she lay there, listening to the whispering of the trees, hearing no hint of what Macey was doing. Why had he pushed her away? she asked herself again. Why?
Macey knew her so well, that was the trouble. He had picked up her nervous, agitated mood that evening and known what was at the root of it. Clare had been aware of him during every second of the time they spent at dinner. Macey had been dead accurate about that. She had been waiting for him to take her into his arms. Well, Macey had done just as she expected and it had sent her into trembling delirium, yet he had stopped after one kiss.
Clare felt like pounding her fists on the bed. Frustrated, puzzled, irritated, she lay and listened until at last she slept.
She must have been working on the problem all night, because the moment she snapped awake in the golden sunlight the answer flashed into her head.
Macey was refusing to take advantage of her disturbed condition after her confession to him about Luke Murry.
Seeing Luke again had knocked her off balance. She couldn't deny that. From the moment she set eyes on him at Rowena's, she had been flung into emotional turmoil.
It wouldn't be surprising if Macey regarded her changed attitude suspiciously. He wasn't the sort of man who was prepared to take someone on the rebound and he knew very well that Luke Murry had affected her deeply.
A man of less sensitive perception, a man of less intelligence, might have rushed to take what she had been so blatantly offering him last night, but Macey did not want to get her on such spurious grounds. Whatever had happened between them while she was still off balance over Luke Murry would have had no validity once she recovered her reason.
Clever Macey, Clare thought drily, staring at the sunlight as it ran in liquid splendour over the ceiling.
He had a mind like a knife. It ran ahead of her own, going faster and further than she could follow him, and all without betraying a single thing.
He hadn't said any of this to her last night. He had left it to her to make her own deductions.
In the cold, clear light of morning Clare's mind was working more efficiently than it had last night. Her senses had stopped clamouring. Her brain could consider the problem without the impeding distractions of sexual need.
She couldn't be sure that the way she was feeling was going to last. It had happened too suddenly. After years of seeing Macey all the time, she had become deeply aware of him sexually overnight, and that might pass as rapidly as it had come.
Macey had known that and firmly refused to respond to her beyond that one kiss. Clare found his ability to think and act under such disciplined control very impressive, but a faint pique niggled inside her. Macey might have slipped just a fraction, she thought wryly. He might have felt just the tiniest bit tempted. She wasn't sure she liked the fact that he had been able to resist the temptation she had offered him, even though she was grateful to him now for having done so.
Sliding out of bed, she yawned, her arms stretched over her golden head. A swim, she decided; that was what she needed to wake her up.
Macey was in the pool when she hit it. He grinned at her as she surfaced again, shaking her head free of clinging drops of water.
There was no shadow of reminder of last night in his face. Clare swam to the far end of the pool, turned and came back, the sun failing over her face and giving it the same golden gleam it was giving to Macey's tanned skin.
Macey climbed out of the water and held out a hand to pull Clare out as she swam towards the side. The effortless strength with which he lifted her made her grin at him. 'Thanks, Tarzan.'
He laughed. 'Impudence,' he mocked, slapping her lightly. 'As Rowena said last night, you're too thin.'
Clare slid him a taunting glance. 'Think so?' Her lashes flickered over her cheeks and she smiled.
Macey's blue eyes narrowed. 'You're asking for trouble,' he warned.
She knew what she was doing. Her green eyes lifted, clear and bland. 'Am I?'
Macey stared into those eyes, his face unreadable. 'Yes,' he said softly, 'you are. Do you know what happens to girls who tease?'
Her mouth curved. 'No. Tell me.'
'I'll show you,' said Macey, and her heart beat a rapid tattoo as he moved.
The next moment she was tumbling back into the water, shrieking, while Macey regarded her with his hands on his hips and a grin curling his mouth. Clare bobbed up, spluttering. 'You rat!' she choked.
'Take it as a warning,' Macey drawled, watching her swim back to the side and laughing, before he turned on his heel and walked into the house. 'I'll get the coffee,' he called over his shoulder as Clare climbed out of the pool.
She flicked her clinging hair back from her face, half amused, half annoyed. When Macey moved towards her like that she had thought she knew exactly what was in his mind and she had been fiercely excited as his hands reached for her. She should have known better. Macey was always unexpected, and after last night she should have realised that he was determined to turn her down while she was uncertain of her own feelings.
By the time he emerged from the house with the coffee Clare was lying languidly at ease in her chair, her huge green sunglasses veiling her eyes, her body stretched out drying in the sun.
'Lazy creature,' Macey informed her, setting down the tray. 'You can pour.'
She stretched, yawning. Macey sat down, but she knew his blue eyes were observing minutely as she leaned forward to pour the coffee. She was very conscious of his scrutiny and knew that he was perfectly aware of her reaction.
Passing him his cup, she lay back, glad of the shelter of her sunglasses. From behind them she could watch Macey out of the corner of her eye as he drank his coffee and gazed down at the sea below them. His long, lean body shifted, his tanned skin gleaming.
Sexual attraction was an odd thing, Clare mused. How often had she seen Macey like this? And never felt a flicker of awareness! Yet now every move he made kept her eyes riveted to him and made her skin prickle with heated awareness.
She drank her coffee and lay back, her eyes closed. The sun lay in melting warmth across her skin making her feel very sleepy. She slid slowly into a light doze.
Fingers trailed across her bare thigh and she came awake in a rush of consciousness, lifting her head..
Macey eyed her, smiling. 'Hungry? Shall we go in and have some salad?'
She couldn't answer because every nerve in her body was leaping at the memory of that brief touch of his hand. Getting up, she followed him into the house, blinking in the cool shadows of the interior after her sleep in the sun.
Macey talked lightly over the meal about his ideas for direction when they went into rehearsal, admitting wryly that Rowena was going to be his big problem. Clare listened and added a few words here and there without really listening with deep concentration. She was concentrating on something else which absorbed her to the exclusion of everything else. Her eye and ear fed her impressions of Macey at every moment. She was consuming him with her mind, absorbing him into her bloodstream as though he were an element her body had lacked for years and for which it craved.
The graceful movements of that hard male body, the deep notes of his voice, the way his head turned and his brown skin gleamed, the width of his shoulders and the length of his muscular legs—all seemed oddly new and oddly illuminating. How could she have been so blind for so long? How could her senses have been capable of responding to him like this without her even suspecting it?
After her frozen years of emotional deprivation, she was filled with amazement at the realisation that Macey had been around so long without impinging on her consciousness.
Macey had once said that she was packed in ice. Now the ice had cracked across and she was melting with feeling. The thaw was carrying her too far, too fast. She hadn't got a clue how to cope with the rush of eager sensation.
The day wore on as the other days they had spent here had gone. They had come here to relax and that was what they were doing, but although Clare lay about and basked in the s
un like a lizard, she was very far from feeling as relaxed as she looked. She had reminded herself scathingly that she was an actress, and surely to God she could act her way through this situation! She was putting on as good a performance as she could now, but she wondered if Macey had any idea that every tiny movement he made sent her blood circulating more rapidly around her body. Was that clever mind of his conscious of the fact that when he leaned over to get a peach from the table, the sight of his long, smooth back made her pulses race? Did he know that the sidelong flick of his eyes turned her heart over?
The sexual attraction to which she had been so blind for so long was doing drastic things to her. She had lain beside him in her briefest bikinis until now and barely been aware of him, but now she was acutely conscious of his glance, her nervous restless eyes unable to meet his when he looked at her.
'Dinner in Nice?' he asked again as they drifted back into the house when the heat of the afternoon faded into dusk. The moths had appeared again, emerging from their daylight slumber. One brushed against Clare's cheek, leaving a faint powdered trail across her skin. She rubbed at it as she looked secretly at Macey.
'Must we?' She did not want to go to Nice again. She wanted to stay here in the villa. She refused to investigate why she felt so disinclined to go out.
Macey's jaw tightened. 'Yes,' he said curtly, 'we must.'
'We could have a steak here,' she suggested.
'We'll go out.'
'I'll do the cooking,' she wheedled softly.
Macey's blue eyes had a sudden hard rage in them. 'And afterwards?' he asked through his teeth. 'What did you plan for me later, Clare?'
A burning flush ran up her face. 'I don't know what you're talking about!'
Macey took a step nearer. His face was suffused with angry blood, his jaw was clenched. 'You know what I'm talking about, Clare.'
She backed, her eyes shifting. 'I don't.'
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