Her Tycoon Lover

by Sandra Field

  ‘Well, it’s a damned good job he listened to me and not to you, or I’d have had Uncle Pip down on me like a ton of bricks.’

  After a few days he had ostensibly forgiven her, but he never again suggested she accompany him to any business meetings.

  ‘But presumably he forgave you?’ Scrivener’s voice broke into her thoughts.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she answered evenly.

  ‘Who could do anything else?’ he remarked with ponderous gallantry. Then pointedly, ‘So if all’s well, why are you going on holiday with Gallagher, rather than Beaumont?’

  Wanting to say, mind your own business, but unwilling to lose any advantage they might have gained, she told him flatly, ‘Because yesterday Jason married my sister, and today they’re off on their honeymoon. That’s the reason I felt forced to leave Finance International.’

  Hearing the catch in her voice, Gray jumped in. ‘We were sorry to lose Miss Ferris, who, as you remarked earlier, has both a sound grasp of business and a good brain. I felt that at the very least the company owed her a holiday.’

  ‘I see.’

  From his expression it was impossible to tell whether or not he believed what he had been told.

  Glancing at Marianne, who hadn’t said a word while the little drama was being played out, Scrivener stood up. ‘Well, it’s time we were going. Thanks for the meal, Gallagher.’

  Gray rose to his feet and, having pulled out the blonde’s chair, wished her a pleasant, ‘Goodnight, Miss Midler.’

  As the two men shook hands, Scrivener said, ‘I’ll let you know my final decision some time tomorrow.’

  ‘We’ll be starting for California mid-afternoon.’

  ‘I’ll catch you on your mobile. I have the number.’ Then to Rebecca, ‘It was nice meeting you again, Miss Ferris. I hope you have an enjoyable holiday.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Watching the two walk away, she felt suddenly cold and wrung out, on the point of exhaustion.

  Resuming his seat, Gray said exultantly, ‘You were absolutely wonderful, and the company is very much in your debt.’

  Rebecca felt a glow of returning warmth at his unstinting praise. She had wondered a little uneasily if he might have been annoyed by her involvement.

  Watching her cheeks take on a tinge of colour, he queried, ‘I presume Jason has been keeping tabs on the Archangel Project?’

  ‘Not as far as I know. I just happened to see a well-informed article by James Berringer, the Globe’s financial correspondent.

  ‘He presented the facts, then went on to look ahead and compare Archangel with other futuristic projects that in the end proved wildly successful. After a lot of thought, I revised my earlier opinion.’

  ‘Thank the lord you did. If I had primed you, I think Scrivener would have known. But as it was, you came over as totally convinced and convincing, the only combination that could have tipped the scales in our favour.’

  He leaned forward and, taking her face between his palms, kissed her on the mouth.

  A jubilant kiss that held both relief and satisfaction; an ardent kiss that had her trembling and confused.

  For the briefest of kisses in a public place it sent out shockwaves that rocked her very being, and triggered a sudden and overwhelming hunger.

  She knew without a shadow of doubt that not even Jason’s kisses had affected her so powerfully. If they had, she would never have found the strength to hold out against him.

  Drawing back, Gray went on, ‘Scrivener came absolutely determined to withdraw from the project, and you managed to achieve what I would have found impossible had I been on my own.’

  Noticing that his voice had roughened somewhat and his face looked taut, as though the skin had been stretched too tightly over the bones, she said breathlessly, ‘He may still withdraw.’

  ‘I very much doubt it. I know him well enough to be sure that if he’d still been determined to pull out, he would have said so at once.’

  Then, as though making an effort to return to normal, ‘Now, shall we relax for a little while? You didn’t have a brandy earlier, and you’ve more than earned one.’

  She shook her head. ‘I don’t really care for brandy. But I would like some more coffee.’

  ‘Sure it won’t keep you awake?’

  ‘I doubt if anything could do that.’

  ‘Yes, you must be shattered. I’m afraid we’re somewhat later than I’d expected. It’ll be the early hours of the morning in London.’

  ‘Well, at least I had some sleep on the plane.’

  ‘Even so, you look about all in.’

  They were making polite conversation like two strangers, while beneath the surface a silent and much deeper communication was going on, telling of need and hunger, of excitement and anticipation.

  Reaching across the table, he took hold of her wrist. Her pulse beneath the light pressure of his thumb was rapid and uneven, and as she looked up he saw that her golden eyes appeared slightly dazed, their pupils large and dark.

  Moving his thumb to stroke her palm, he suggested, ‘It might make more sense to go straight up to our suite and have coffee served there.’

  When she made no objection he rose to pull out her chair, and a hand at her waist escorted her out of the restaurant.

  She was acutely conscious of his height, the length of his stride, the sexual tension between them.

  The lift had just gone up to the top floor, and by tacit consent they used the stairs. They climbed in silence, without looking at one another, but from time to time her elbow touched his, or their thighs brushed lightly.

  Outwardly they must have looked like any ordinary couple, but she was so aware of him that she found it difficult to breathe, and her heart was beating in great heavy thuds, so that she felt sure he must be able to hear it pounding.

  When they reached their suite he opened the door with no sign of haste, and, having followed her inside, set his back to the panels.

  He hadn’t bothered to switch on the light, and in the glow of the city’s not-quite-darkness she turned towards him.

  Without a single word being spoken, he took her in his arms and began to kiss her as no one had ever kissed her before, or ever would again.

  Kisses that went on and on, blowing her mind, sweeping her away, promising her the kind of delight she had always longed for and never yet experienced.

  But, though his kisses were hungry and passionate, apparently holding himself in check, he made no move to take things further.

  Knowing he was as aroused as she was, and bewildered by his restraint, her whole body crying out for more, she pressed herself against him.

  As though he had been waiting for a signal, he ran a single finger up and down her spine. The caress was unexpected and thrilling, and she quivered like a violin being played.

  Then while one hand cradled the back of her head, the other began to move over her, following the slender curve of waist and hip and buttock. At the same time his mouth left hers to stray down to the warm hollow at the base of her throat, where his tongue-tip proceeded to cause havoc.

  She gave a little murmur of pleasure, convinced that there could be nothing more erotic—until he touched her breast, cupping the soft weight and brushing his thumb over the nipple, which instantly grew firm.

  By the time he slid the straps of her dress off her shoulders to expose her small, beautifully shaped breasts, she was prey to the kind of sexual excitement she hadn’t known existed.

  When he bent his head and put his mouth to her breast the needle-sharp sensations his suckling caused were so exquisite that, unable at that moment to stand any more, she gave a little incoherent exclamation and made to push him away.

  Straightening up at once, he adjusted the bodice of her dress with care, and eased the straps back into place, before saying coolly, ‘I’m sorry if I’m not coming up to Jason’s standard…’

  Feeling like someone who had been enjoying a thrilling roller-coaster ride and was suddenly thr
own off to land half-stunned and dazed, she just stared at him.

  ‘I’d better say goodnight and let you get some sleep,’ he added. ‘We’ve a longish journey ahead of us tomorrow.’

  He turned on his heel in the semi-darkness and walked away. A moment later his bedroom door closed quietly behind him.

  It was clear that he had completely misunderstood her instinctive withdrawal. Shocked by the swift and totally unexpected ending to his lovemaking, she began to tremble violently.

  He had talked about not coming up to Jason’s standard, but he had far outstripped it.

  Jason, always very self-orientated, wasn’t in the same class for sensitivity and skill. Because he was always focused entirely on his own needs rather than on his partner’s, interested only in reaching his objective rather than in the journey there, his lovemaking had been both cursory and clumsy.

  It seemed dreadfully disloyal to even think such a thing, but it didn’t make it any less true, and she found herself marvelling that she had never realised it before.

  After a few kisses, if Jason decided he wasn’t getting anywhere, regarding it as a waste of time, he would give up and sulk.

  Whereas Gray had set out to give her pleasure, and had succeeded beyond her wildest dreams.

  Her body still quivering with unappeased desire, her legs unsteady, her mind in a turmoil, she went through to her room and, switching on the light, sank down on the bed.

  Where earlier in the evening she had felt dog-tired and only too eager to get some sleep, now she was wide awake and restless, frustration gnawing at her.

  Perhaps a shower would help her to relax?

  In desperation she seized on the stray thought, and, having stripped off her clothes, went through to the bathroom and cleaned her teeth before stepping into the glass cubicle.

  She stood beneath the flow of hot water until her skin tingled, but it made no difference to how she felt inside.

  When she had dried herself, rubbing the fine skin with unnecessary vigour, she took the pins from her hair and, her movements jerky, picked up her brush.

  While she brushed out the thick, silky mass she tried to tell herself that it was just as well things had ended as they had. There was no way she could have called a halt, and if Gray hadn’t backed off when he did it would have been too late.

  She ought to be grateful.

  But she wasn’t.

  Still aching with frustration and misery, she longed to be in his arms, yearned to have him satisfy the hunger he had so effortlessly aroused.

  Fool! she berated herself angrily. How could she be thinking that way? No matter how skilful his lovemaking, all he wanted was a holiday fling, and she had never gone in for casual flings or affairs. It just wasn’t in her nature.

  Though as far as she was concerned, this wouldn’t have been just a casual fling, soon over and easily forgotten. Something deep inside, something she couldn’t put a name to, responded to Gray in a way she had never responded to anyone else.

  Until now, she had regarded sex and love as going hand in hand, with love the more important of the two. But perhaps because of her childhood she had been afraid of strong feelings, wary of falling in love, knowing that love made one vulnerable.

  Only Jason had come anywhere near to breaking through her defences. But in the end she had even held back with him, a man she had loved.

  So where did that leave her? Was she going to remain a virgin all her life? Die without ever becoming a wife and mother? Or at the very least without knowing what it was like to be made love to by a man she wanted.

  And she did want Gray Gallagher.

  Pulling on a white towelling robe that hung behind the door, she returned to the bedroom as tense as when she had left it.

  Her cotton nightdress lay limply across the double bed like the heroine of some Victorian melodrama. But she was no Victorian heroine. Perhaps by today’s standards she was old-fashioned, with outmoded principles, but she was still a modern woman, able to choose her own path through life.

  Gray was the only man who had ever made her long to throw her bonnet over the windmill. But from now on, having mistaken her reaction for rejection, she felt oddly certain that he would make no further move.

  If she did want him as a lover, it was up to her to go to him and tell him so.

  Giving herself no more time to think, barefoot, her hair tumbled in loose curls around her shoulders, she padded across the semi-dark living-room to his door.

  She had raised her hand to knock when she realised she couldn’t possibly do it. He might look at her with cool surprise.

  That would be all it would take to make her want to curl up and die. She had none of the confidence of the truly liberated woman. In sexual matters she might follow, but she could never lead. Never take the initiative.

  She was turning away when the door opened with a suddenness that made her give a startled gasp.

  Gray stood in the doorway, his back to the light, wearing a short, navy-blue silk dressing gown.

  ‘Something wrong?’ he queried levelly.

  ‘N-no…Yes…’

  ‘Which?’

  ‘I—I’d like to talk to you.’

  ‘I was just about to fetch my laptop and catch up on some work.’

  Boldly, she said, ‘I couldn’t sleep either.’

  ‘Frustration’s hell,’ he agreed. ‘Or are you going to tell me you’re not frustrated?’

  ‘If I told you that it wouldn’t be true.’ She looked at him pleadingly.

  ‘Sorry, but on the earlier showing I wouldn’t make a good stand-in for Jason, and I should hate to be found wanting.’

  Gritting her teeth, she said, ‘I don’t want you to be a stand-in for Jason.’

  ‘So what do you want?’

  It was clear that he was going to give her no help. Swallowing, she said, ‘I just want to make it clear that when I pushed you away it was because I…I…’

  When he simply waited, she finished desperately, ‘It was absolutely nothing to do with Jason.’

  ‘You just couldn’t stand me.’

  ‘If I couldn’t stand you, would I be here now? Wouldn’t I be in my own bed, breathing a sigh of relief that I’d managed to escape your clutches?’

  Though she couldn’t see his face clearly, she was aware that he had relaxed.

  ‘Well, it’s nice to know that my sex appeal isn’t quite on a par with Count Dracula’s.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with your sex appeal, it’s…’ She hesitated.

  ‘Appealing?’ he suggested, tongue-in-cheek.

  Unwilling to be laughed at in such trying circumstances, she retorted, ‘At any rate it’s better than your comprehension. You totally misinterpreted my reaction.’

  ‘It seemed pretty clear at the time. You didn’t exactly clutch me to your bosom.’

  Her face burning with heat, she said crossly, ‘Have you never heard of sensual overload?’

  ‘Are you trying to tell me it was sensual overload that caused your reaction?’

  ‘I’m not trying to tell you. I am telling you.’

  ‘I see. Does it happen often?’

  ‘It’s never happened to me before,’ she said, and immediately regretted her honesty.

  ‘Well, well, well…’ he murmured derisively, ‘and here I was, jealous of Jason.’

  Hating his mockery, she burst out, ‘If you think it was easy for me to come…’ Then, suddenly close to tears, she stopped speaking abruptly and turned away.

  He caught her wrist. ‘Don’t rush off.’

  She tried to jerk free. ‘I’m not staying here to be made fun of.’

  ‘My little love, I’m not making fun of you.’

  Flustered by the casual endearment, she stopped trying to pull away, and, using the wrist he was still holding, he drew her unresisting into the bedroom and closed the door behind them.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ‘I WASN’T making fun of you,’ he repeated. ‘If anything I was mocking myself
.’

  ‘Why should you be doing that?’

  ‘For taking myself far too seriously. However, I’ll do my best to make it up to you.’

  He waited, one eyebrow raised expectantly.

  When she said nothing, he suggested, ‘Aren’t you going to ask me how?’

  Warily, convinced he was teasing her, she went along with it. ‘All right, how?’

  ‘I thought I might teach you how to cope with sensual overload.’

  Finding herself suddenly breathless, she asked, ‘How would you do that?’

  His eyes gleaming, he answered, ‘By giving you plenty of practice.’

  She began to tremble.

  ‘But we’ll take it slowly, shall we?’

  He slid his hands into the wide sleeves of her robe to hold her elbows and draw her to him. When their faces were only inches apart, he stopped and smiled down at her.

  Their bodies weren’t touching, but she was very aware of how close they were and the warmth of his hands cupping her elbows.

  Lifting her face to his, like a flower to the sun, she was waiting for his kiss when he surprised her by suggesting softly, ‘Why don’t you kiss me?’

  Her eyes flying to his mouth, a mouth that sent shivers up and down her spine, she hesitated for an instant, wanting to kiss him, but oddly shy. Then, gathering her courage, she stood on tiptoe and touched her lips to his.

  For a moment he remained quite still, making no effort to kiss her back, and, disconcerted, she was about to draw away when his lips moved in response, returning the slight pressure.

  At first his kiss was chaste, but soon it changed to teasing and sensual as his mouth coaxed hers to part and he ran the tip of his tongue delicately along the silky inner skin of her upper lip.

  While his kisses became ever more tantalising and erotic, he withdrew his hands from her sleeves and, unfastening her robe, slipped it off her shoulders and lifted her onto the bed.

  Lying in a pool of golden light cast by the bedside lamp, she gazed up at him, her whole body waiting, anticipating, responsive to a trustworthy lover.