by Penny Jordan
Too stunned by his comment about seeing and touching her, Emma could only marshal her thoughts sufficiently to say bitterly, ‘Commodities, that’s all people are to you isn’t it? You don’t give a damn about their feelings.’
‘Perhaps because the people I’m dealing with don’t give a damn about mine, and you’re wrong you know. I cared enough about yours to employ—at considerable expense I might add—a woman photographer. I could simply have sent you along to the sort of studio my rival uses—but I didn’t, did I?’ he said grimly.
What he was saying was true. Emma remembered how relieved she had been when she saw Pat but her pride ached too much for her to acknowledge the truth of his comment.
‘Stop worrying about it,’ he told her curtly. ‘Once this is over and the magazine is sold, you can burn the damn things and forget all about it.’
‘I might be able to burn them,’ Emma told him in a voice taut with self-loathing, ‘but how can I burn my memories, how can I forget…?’
‘There are times when we all have to do things we don’t want to,’ Drake cut in harshly. He had gone curiously pale and Emma wondered if perhaps he cared more about Bianca than he was letting her see. It seemed curious to her that a man as strong and hard as this one couldn’t cope with an importuning woman. Perhaps he was frightened that he might not be as indifferent to Bianca as he was trying to pretend. It was disturbing to discover how much her body ached at that thought.
* * *
Her two days in London passed in a whirl of activity. She did visit a hairdressers, but only to learn how to dress her long hair in several more sophisticated styles. It was far too attractive and healthy to cut, the stylist told her firmly, and Emma was relieved.
At first she had felt uncomfortable spending Drake’s money, but her new clothes were all part and parcel of the role she was to play he told her.
Even so, she spent carefully. Bianca would expect her to be worldly and sophisticated and she chose accordingly, half surprised herself to discover how easy it was to alter her appearance.
Drake didn’t ask to see what she had bought and she didn’t show him. On the second day of her stay he had arranged to have dinner with her at the hotel.
She was waiting for him in the cocktail bar when he arrived and frowned in astonishment over the large box he gave her.
‘Get someone to take it up to your room for you.’
‘What is it?’ Emma questioned.
He smiled wryly at her. ‘Something I suspect you’ll have forgotten. Now, are you ready to eat.’
When he chose to be he was an entertaining companion. A little to her surprise, he didn’t as she had expected him to do, scorn women’s views and opinions as of being of no importance and they talked for some length on current issues, Emma finding it exhilarating to pit her wits and views against his. She was surprised when he glanced at his watch and commented that if they were to be ready in time for the Concorde flight in the morning they ought to be thinking of calling it a day. It was just gone ten, she realised, looking at her own watch, and as Drake left her just by the lift, and she watched his tall back disappearing in the direction of the foyer she wondered if he was really planning on an early night or if he had a date with someone else…
She still smarted from his remark that he could look at and touch her body if he wanted to, the more so because she knew irresistibly that it was true. She wanted him to make love to her; and that was half the reason she found his company so exhilarating. Tonight listening to him talk at one point she had glanced at his hands and had immediately pictured them touching her skin. As she got in the lift she shuddered slightly. She had to stop thinking of him in that context. For them to become lovers would do nothing but complicate the situation still further. She didn’t love him, she reminded herself, she simply wanted him physically.
As she got out of the lift and unlocked the door to her room it struck her rather ironically that she had come a long way from the woman who had considered herself so immune to physical desire—and in a very short space of time.
She had forgotten the box Drake had given her until she saw it lying on the bed. Curiously she undid the wrapping, glancing at the name written on it. It wasn’t one she recognised but to judge from the quality of the box, it belonged to an expensive and exclusive establishment.
At first the layers of tissue paper obscured its contents from her view but as she moved them her hand stilled, her heart racing painfully.
Drake had bought her underwear; expensive, exclusive underwear, all of a highly sophisticated design—underwear such as the women in his life must wear, she decided, studying the beautiful detail on a cream satin bra. In all there were half a dozen sets of underwear; all expensive and understated; not bridal as Camilla’s had been, or deliberately provocative, and yet somehow because of their very sophistication and the fact that he had chosen them, acutely but subtly sexy.
She wanted to send them back to him, but common sense warned her not to. She wouldn’t put it past him to find some highly embarrassing and pointed way of ensuring that they were returned, and besides he was right; she had forgotten about underwear, and if Bianca was half as formidable as he had intimated she would pounce on and use to her own advantage any hint at all that they were not really engaged.
* * *
Although she tried hard not to show it, Emma was extremely excited about the thought of her Concorde flight. Normally such a luxury would have been completely out of her reach, but now Drake, albeit for reasons of his own, was making it possible for her, and she was determined to enjoy it.
Enjoy it she did, at least until she caught Drake eyeing her with an amused and comprehending smile. When she saw it she tried to feign cool indifference, turning away from him, angry with herself for appearing so gauche.
His hand covered hers as they lay folded in her lap, the firm squeeze he gave them making her turn her head quickly to look at him.
‘I wasn’t laughing at you,’ he drawled; as always, infuriating her with his astuteness. ‘It’s extremely refreshing to see someone genuinely enjoying something. You’re as prickly as a little hedgehog aren’t you… I can see we’re going to have some fireworks ahead of us… especially if you keep on glaring at me like that,’ he added in a soft murmur. ‘Remember we’re supposed to be in love.’
‘We’re supposed to be,’ Emma asked cynically, ‘or I am.’
He studied her for a moment. ‘Women generally show their feelings more openly than men, but I promise you while we’re staying in New York you needn’t have any worries about me fulfilling my role Emma. Just see that you fulfil yours.’
The flight was uneventful; their arrival in New York smooth and well organised, and not for the world would Emma have wanted Drake to see as they drove out of the city in their hire car, just how nervous and tense she was. However, as always, his ability to read her thoughts and see into her mind made any subterfuge on her part a mockery.
‘Stop worrying,’ he told her laconically, negotiating the busy freeway traffic with an ease that Emma could only envy. ‘I’m the one who should be doing that.’
‘What will you do if Giles won’t buy the magazine?’ she asked, wondering for the first time what would happen in that event.
‘Run it down,’ he responded crisply, ‘although I’m loath to do that because it will mean people losing their jobs. From a personal point of view it isn’t an asset that particularly appeals. I wanted the parent company because it fits in nicely with the rest of my organisation, but I don’t have the time or the inclination to work on the magazine to build it up to what it should be. Contrary to what you seem to think owning a girlie magazine does absolutely nothing for me Emma,’ he added drawlingly. ‘I much prefer the real thing.’
‘Yes, I’m sure you do.’ Emma flicked him a disparaging glance as she studied the busy traffic. During their flight out she had done some careful thinking. She was vulnerable to him sexually and they both knew that, but she would be a fool to a
llow that vulnerability to undermine her to the extent that she became physically involved with him. He could have virtually any woman he wanted; if he did make love to her, it would simply be on the impulse of the moment, and she was beginning to have the uneasy suspicion that apart from severely damaging her pride and self-respect to be simply another casual affair in his life would not be enough.
At this stage she wasn’t prepared to take her line of reasoning any further. It was enough that she had seen the warning light flashing.
The Fords’ home was in New York State, imposing and extremely gracious. They had had to announce themselves to the guard on the gate before they were admitted; and the long drive, that eventually swept round to end in a small circle adjacent to a porticoed entrance was certainly impressive. Even so, Emma did not think she would care to live in such splendid isolation, so cut off from the world, guarded against it.
A manservant opened the door for them, nodding a grave recognition to Drake.
‘Drake darling…’
The hard tip-tap of high heels along a tiled floor alerted Emma to her presence long before their hostess stepped into the ornate black and white tiled hallway.
Blonde and tall, she was so immaculately groomed and made up that she looked almost unreal Emma thought wonderingly, suddenly conscious of her own creased skirt, and no doubt tacky make-up. No wonder Drake had insisted on that hurried shopping spree. This woman looked as though she spent a fortune on her face and figure. Older than she was herself, Emma guessed; she was nonetheless extremely beautiful; almost impossibly so, every blonde hair in place, her silk dress clinging to her model-thin figure.
Her heavy, oriental perfume embraced Emma at the same time as its wearer embraced Drake.
There was no mistaking the sensuous way in which she draped herself along his body, carmine finger nails pressing into the thick darkness of his hair, her mouth raised for his kiss.
‘Oh come along darling,’ Emma heard her purr. ‘I’m sure your little fiancée won’t mind you kissing me.’
Emma took note of the derogatory ‘little’, and said coolly, surprising herself, ‘On the contrary, I should mind very much indeed.’
It didn’t take much acting to let her eyes shoot cold sparks in Bianca’s direction, nor to move closer to Drake, her fingers gripping his arm so that he could not return Bianca’s embrace.
For a moment Emma could not define the expression in his eyes as he looked at her and then she realised it was surprise. So she had surprised him for once had she? She was just beginning to recover from the shock of her own behaviour and realise what a ridiculous picture they must present, the two of them clinging like limpets to the one man, when she heard other footsteps, more measured and heavy than Bianca’s, coming down the hallway towards them. Bianca released Drake immediately, but not before she had flashed Emma a challenging, glittering glare.
‘Ah, there you are darling,’ Emma heard her saying gaily. ‘Our guests have arrived.’
The man who came to greet them was in his late fifties. Tall, with a shock of white hair, he must once have been handsome and still retained that powerful aura of attraction many older men possessed. He smiled warmly at both Emma and Drake, shaking Drake’s hand and studying Emma with warm eyes.
‘Well you’ve really surprised me this time Drake,’ he said at last. ‘When Bianca said you were bringing your fiancée with you, I must admit I was surprised, but now that I’ve seen her I can only applaud your choice. You’re a very lucky man.’
‘I think so.’ Drake’s smile caressed her flushing skin, his fingers interlinking with hers, as he raised them to his lips and then slowly kissed each one. Emma was totally flabbergasted. She wanted to snatch her hand away, but the sensation of his mouth against her skin was too blissful to resist. As always when he touched her the power of her response to him was unnerving. She wanted to melt into him, to touch his hair, his skin, to lose herself completely in him.
‘Anyone can tell you’re only very newly engaged,’ she heard Giles laughing. ‘It’s a long time since Bianca looked at me the way Emma’s looking at you Drake. I envy you old man.’
Emma was so scarlet she felt her skin was burning off her bones. How could she have been so stupid. She dared not look at Drake. However, Bianca created a diversion, her voice shrill and bitter as she said icily, ‘But then you’re not Drake are you, darling?’
There was a small, unpleasant silence, which Drake filled by saying calmly, ‘I wonder if we could go to our rooms. Very unsociable of us I know, but it’s been a hectic day.’
‘Of course you can.’ Giles was instantly the concerned host. ‘I’ll get Bates to take up your bags. Why don’t you both rest until dinner time. You’re here for a fortnight, so we’ve plenty of time to discuss business.’
The room Emma was shown to was magnificent. Overpoweringly so, and she detected the hand of a professional interior designer in the mixture of fabrics and colours. She had her own bathroom; and a walk-in wardrobe room, far too large for the clothes she had brought with her. So this was how the very rich lived, well she didn’t envy them… Despite Giles’ money there seemed precious little harmony or happiness in this house. She had seen the way his mouth tightened and his eyes grew bitter when Bianca made her acid statement. She herself had had no need to act; she had been too startled by the other woman’s comment to hide her surprise. What made it even more surprising was that she should say it in front of the woman her ex-lover was going to marry. Drake had been right; she was a very very formidable woman—and an extremely dangerous one Emma suspected. Dear God if she were genuinely engaged to Drake and in love with him she doubted if she would have stood a chance. At least she was free from the burden of emotional involvement with him and therefore immune to most of Bianca’s poisonous darts.
She glanced at her cases, thought about unpacking and then remembered that the house was staffed. Better to start off by giving Bianca as little ammunition as she could. She wasn’t going to allow the other woman to make her feel gauche or unsophisticated and if no one came to unpack for her she could always do it herself later.
Dinner tonight would be an extremely tense affair she suspected, wondering what to wear. If she was too dressed up she would feel uncomfortable and embarrassed, and yet she didn’t want to let Drake down by not dressing as his fiancée would be expected to.
Another door in the wall behind the bed caught her eye, and she glanced at it. There was a key in it on her side, and she walked over to it, trying the door. It was unlocked. She wondered if she and Drake had been given connecting rooms. It seemed highly likely, not that she needed to worry about that. She had the key, and Drake would be far too busy keeping Bianca at bay to have any time to spare for her.
Perhaps she ought to ask for his advice about dinner, and she had better do it now, she decided, just in case he was going to have a rest. Knocking briefly she turned the handle and walked through. The room was very similar to her own, and Drake was over by the window, staring out of it, hands in the pockets of his pants, his jacket lying discarded on a chair.
‘Drake?’ He turned round as he heard her, and she saw that he was frowning. ‘I was just wondering about tonight,’ she told him. He had removed his tie, and unfastened several of his shirt buttons. She could see the dark tangle of hair shadowing his chest and her own seemed to tighten suddenly, strangling her voice. ‘I’m not sure what I ought to wear… I don’t want to don my full formal regalia, if…’
‘Umm…’ His frown deepened suddenly and he lifted his head staring towards the door on to the landing. In half a dozen lithe strides he had crossed the distance that separated them, and as Emma protested heatedly he pulled her into his arms, his fingers locking in her hair and holding her mouth a prisoner beneath his as he kissed her deeply and almost roughly.
Robbed of breath, Emma struggled to fight free, furious with him for his behaviour. His free arm clamped her against his body and she could feel the deep thud of his heart against her; the s
teely strength of his thighs.
A weak tide of need poured through her, destroying her resistance. She made a sound beneath his mouth, half protest, half plea and then her arms were round his neck, her body melting into his. She wasn’t aware of the approaching footsteps, only of Drake’s hand moving from her back to her breast, exploring its firm contours. A tug and her silk shirt came free of her skirt. Drake’s palm felt warm against her midriff. She was overwhelmed by a need to feel his skin against hers and she trembled wildly, drowning beneath his kiss.
‘Good heavens! Drake darling I need to see you alone for a few minutes. Perhaps your little fiancée…’
Bianca’s voice chilled the heat in Emma’s blood. She tensed automatically, but Drake didn’t release her, merely lifting his mouth from hers to turn his head and say in a softly slurred voice. ‘Not now Bianca… can’t you see that I’m busy…’
Emma looked at the other woman wondering at her hardiness. In her shoes, she suspected that she would have crawled out of the room if Drake had spoken to her like that, but instead Bianca merely smiled tightly and raised thin eyebrows to say sweetly, ‘Darling you have changed… Since when has sex been more important to you than business?’
Emma didn’t have to fake the tide of angry colour sweeping over her skin. Bianca really was a first-class bitch she thought, stunned by the other woman’s persistence.
‘Sex might not be,’ Drake returned in an even drawl, ‘but love certainly is.’
‘Love?’ At last Emma saw Bianca change colour, her eyes wild with rage as she glared from Emma to Drake. ‘Are you trying to tell me that you love her, Drake?’
‘I’m not trying to tell you anything,’ he said calmly. ‘I’m simply stating a fact. And now if we could please have a little privacy. I was very dubious about staying here,’ he added coolly, ‘in fact I think it might be an idea if we left and booked into an hotel, although of course Giles will want to know why.’