by Penny Jordan
‘Just give me one good reason why a woman like you needs to demean herself by stealing someone else’s husband,’ he demanded suddenly. ‘Just one.’
He seemed almost obsessed by her supposed relationship with a married man; more so, she sometimes thought, than with the brush-off she had given him. It was odd—it didn’t fit in with the character she had given him, but then, nor did so many other things.
She had prepared herself for a battle over her promise that they would maintain Emma King’s real identity, but to her surprise he had immediately and happily accepted that it should be so. On other occasions where she had expected him to show harshness and lack of understanding, he had caught her off guard with his compassionate acceptance of the frailties of others. So why did he continually come down so hard on her? She wasn’t the first woman in the world to be stupid enough to fall for a married man.
Tell him that it’s over, that it isn’t what he thinks, an inner voice urged her, but how could she? It just wasn’t possible.
‘Nothing to say? The leopard never changes its spots, eh, Susannah, and that’s what you are, isn’t it? A beautiful predator!’
In that moment, looking up into his handsome, cynical face, Susannah wished that she might at least have the claws of the beast to whom he likened her! If she had, there was nothing she would like to do more than to rake them across that hard, tanned face.
The violence of her emotions shocked her. She turned away, her body shivering convulsively.
‘What’s the matter?’ Hazard was at her elbow. She could feel his breath on the nape of her neck. It sent betraying shudders of sensation down her spine. Why, oh, why did she have to be so closely attuned to this man? That was what was at the root of her problem. That was the reason why she couldn’t tell him the truth, and yet, working beside him, it was getting harder and harder to maintain the fiction of her married lover.
‘You can’t have been seeing much of him lately. I’ve been keeping you too busy. Missing him, are you, Susannah? Missing him in your bed?’
Her whole body was quivering now. She felt as though she was drowning in the soft whisper of his voice. A tormenting need to turn round and look at him swept through her.
‘I’m not listening to this… I’m going home. I…’ Wildly, she rushed to the door, not daring to look round. She could feel her face flaming with guilt and embarrassment. Just for a moment, a crazy, idiotic moment, she had actually felt weak at the knees, had actually mentally been picturing herself lying on some mythical bed, the shadowy figure of a nude male kneeling at her side. Such was the power of Hazard’s masculinity.
To her relief he didn’t follow her, simply calling after her, ‘I’m going to make you give him up, Susannah.’
It stopped her in her tracks, her eyes huge and fearful as she turned to face him. She didn’t doubt the truth of what he said, only the purpose behind him.
‘Why?’
She hadn’t realised she had whispered the word out loud until he crossed the space dividing them.
‘Call it part of my one-man crusade against the destruction of the honourable state of marriage. Be warned. Whatever it takes, I’m going to stop it.’
His phone rang and, as he turned to answer it, she fled.
CHAPTER FIVE
SUSANNAH’S ALARM woke her. She had been restless all night, falling asleep only a short time before dawn, and the intrusive shrill of the alarm made her groan protestingly until she realised what day it was.
Another hour and Hazard would be there. Scrambling out of bed, she headed for the shower.
The vibrant sting of its jets helped her to come to. Her hair, sleeked back with moisture, started to spring up in tendrils of curls as she rubbed it dry. No time to spend blowing and taming it this morning, she decided ruefully, pulling on a comfortable pair of worn jeans.
The radio announcer read the weather forecast. More rain, and it would be colder in the north; it was bound to be. A fine cotton shirt with a thick heavy sweatshirt to go over it would seem to be the most sensible thing to wear. Moisturiser to protect her skin, and the merest touch of make-up and she was ready—well, almost.
In her small kitchen, the coffee was filtering noisily, the rich scent of it making her mouth water. She was hopeless in the morning until she had had her first cup.
She wondered about making up a flask to take with her. Hazard had given her no indication of his plans for their journey. It would be a long drive, and if he decided not to stop—She had a Thermos hidden away somewhere. She found it at the back of a cupboard and emerged breathless and triumphant, quickly washing it out and then filling it with the fragrant hot brew.
The radio announced the time; if she was quick, she would just be able to manage a slice of toast. As she made it, she looked out of the window and down on to the landscaped parking area she shared with the other residents. There was no sign of Hazard as yet.
She had been lucky to find this flat. When she had first come to London, she had visions of having to live in some small bedsit but, once she knew of her niece’s decision to move to the capital, Aunt Emily had astounded her by informing her that she had kept for her the money realised from the sale of her parents’ home at the time of their death, and that this sum, carefully invested and nurtured, had grown into a very healthy amount, enough to enable her to buy this flat, and to afford her small second-hand car as well.
The block was one of several built on land which had once housed a large Victorian villa. The established trees around the perimeter had been retained, and the flats were in the main owned by older retired couples. Susannah had decorated hers herself when she’d first moved in—it had been a way of passing those long sleepless hours when she had been struggling to come to terms with the fact that her relationship with David was over.
Her kitchen was painted sunny yellow, and pretty candy-striped Austrian blinds decorated the windows. She had made them herself—thanks to Aunt Emily’s careful training.
Her toaster, often erratic, started to billow smoke, and with a wail of protest she left the window and rushed over to it. By the time she had unplugged it and rescued the burnt bread, she was cursing mildly. The knock on her outer door made her stiffen and glance instinctively towards the window.
Down in the car park stood a long, lean, black Jaguar.
She hadn’t wanted Hazard to come up to the flat; she had intended to run down and meet him the moment she saw his car, but it was too late now.
Crossly she went to open the door. Like herself, he was dressed casually, his jeans—like hers—well worn and faded. Against her will, Susannah’s eyes were drawn to the way they hugged the hard muscles of his thighs. Grateful of the dimness of the hall for hiding the betraying colour sweeping up under her skin, she gestured to him to come in.
‘I’m almost ready, I’ll just get my jacket.’
To her annoyance, instead of remaining in the hall, he followed her down the passage and into the kitchen.
‘Trouble with the toaster?’ he asked as the acrid scent of the burnt bread met him.
He looked at the coffee machine and added, ‘I don’t suppose, if I ask very nicely, I’ll be given a cup of that, will I?’
What could she do? Grimly, she got a mug and poured a cup for him.
It disconcerted her how at home he looked here in her kitchen. He had pulled out one of the stools from the wall, and was perching on it, looking out of the window.
‘Nice place you’ve got here.’
‘Yes,’ Susannah agreed, ‘and before you say it, no, it wasn’t paid for by my lover. I bought it myself with an inheritance.’
‘Quite a considerable inheritance,’ he concurred mildly, getting up to touch one of her striped blinds. ‘These things don’t come cheap.’
‘I made them myself.’
She had said it stiffly, angry and defensive with him, and also, if she was honest with herself, disturbed by his presence here in the intimacy of her kitchen. She wasn’t used to sharing
her morning routine with anyone, much less a man, and the sight of him prowling round her kitchen, studying it, disconcerted her.
‘We ought to leave,’ she reminded him. ‘The traffic…’
‘Yes.’ He saw the Thermos and his eyebrows lifted interrogatively.
‘I wasn’t sure whether you planned to stop on the way,’ she explained. ‘I’d filled the filter jug, so…’
‘Good idea. We’ll probably need it if the weather report is anything to go by.’ He saw her uncomprehending look and told her, ‘I rang up the weather centre before I left. They’re forecasting torrential rain and high-speed winds for Yorkshire today and tomorrow.’
He had finished his coffee, and she picked up his mug and her own, taking them over to the sink. Aunt Emily’s training dictated that she left the kitchen immaculate, and she had long ago developed a morning routine that included this chore. However, she was totally thrown when Hazard, after watching her run the water and fill the washing-up bowl, said casually, ‘Where’s the tea towel? I’ll dry.’
Too stunned to protest, she gave it to him.
‘Strange,’ he ruminated, as she washed the last item and then quickly wiped down the tiled worktops, ‘I’d never have envisaged you as the housewifely type.’
‘Why, because I’m having an affair with a married man?’
She regretted the goad the moment it left her lips. Why on earth did she always fall into the trap of letting her impulsive tongue overrule caution? She saw from his frown that she had angered him. They were going to be cooped up in his car for heaven alone knew how long, and she had had to go and destroy his earlier fairly benign mood by reminding him of David!
‘May I use your bathroom?’
The request caught her off guard, and then she nodded her head and directed him to it.
The flat only had one bedroom and the bathroom was off it. She had decorated them when she had first moved, incorporating the soft pink-peach sanitary-ware into a colour scheme that was wholly feminine.
The single bed she had had ever since she was a teenager had come to London with her, and on the chair beside her bed was the now rather tatty teddy bear that her parents had given to her for her first birthday.
Her jacket was already in the hall, money, a notebook, tape recorder and everything else she would need in the capacious leather bag she always carried with her.
When Hazard rejoined her, he looked oddly withdrawn and engrossed in his own thoughts.
His Jaguar had only two proper seats, and Susannah, who had decided that she would opt for sitting in the back, away from him, grimaced faintly. She was just reaching for the door-handle when Hazard forestalled her, opening it for her, his fingers just brushing hers as she did so. A tingle of electric sensation rushed through her, freezing her where she stood.
‘Strange sort of lover you have,’ he remarked caustically. ‘Doesn’t buy you a double bed, doesn’t open car doors for you…’
Bending low to get into the car, Susannah was relieved that he couldn’t see her face. She had forgotten about her small single bed; far too small for two people to share in comfort.
‘But, of course, I’m forgetting. He doesn’t sleep over, does he?’ Hazard taunted her, settling himself beside her in the driver’s seat. ‘Don’t you ever want a man you could really call your own, Susannah, instead of having to share him with someone else—someone who has far more right to him than you? Don’t you have any guilt about what you’re doing? Don’t you…’
‘It’s over… I’m not seeing him any more.’
Susannah wasn’t sure which of them was the more shocked. Hazard, who had just been about to fire the engine, stiffened and then turned towards her.
‘Run that by me again,’ he demanded tensely.
‘It’s over. The affair…’
Her voice shook, the tension in the air between them making her so physically aware of him that it was frightening.
‘It’s over?’
It was as though he couldn’t take in what she was saying, and no wonder. What on earth had made her blurt it out like that? It came to her as they looked at one another that they themselves might have been two lovers, rather than adversaries. The thought heated her skin, pinpricks of awareness tormenting her nerve-endings. Against her will, she remembered the night of the party, the way Hazard had touched and kissed her.
‘When?’ The hoarse demand shocked her back to reality.
Too late, she remembered why she had been so determined not to tell Hazard the truth.
The sexuality which had so intimidated her had never been more in evidence. She shrank from it instinctively, both attracted and repelled by it. She wasn’t used to such intensely sexual men. David had not been like that, and before him her relationships had never run very deep. Casual dates, male friends whom she had never allowed to penetrate the citadel of her private self, either emotionally or physically.
‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’
Almost too late, she sprang to her own defence, her manner cool and distant, as she responded acidly, ‘Perhaps because I didn’t consider it was any of your business. You’re my boss, Hazard, not my keeper.’
She sat back in her seat, deliberately closing her eyes, trying to enforce her determination not to allow him to pursue the conversation.
Even with her eyes closed, she was intensely aware of him, more aware in some senses: she could feel the heat emanating from his body, smell its personal male scent. He started the car, and his arm accidentally brushed against her thigh as he changed gear. Instantly, rivulets of sensations burned through her veins.
‘Susannah.’
The sound of her name, spoken for once with gentleness, instead of the harshness to which she had grown accustomed, made her open her eyes. His were warm and far more friendly than she had ever seen them before.
‘Why don’t we start again, wipe the past off the slate? Start afresh.’
Some deep feminine instinct for self-preservation warned her not to accept. This man spelled danger for her; she knew it just as she knew that no one else had ever had the power to make her react physically to him in the way that he could. At the moment, that knowledge was hers and hers alone. Once she dropped her defences, though… She shivered slightly, and instantly he was concerned.
‘Cold? I’ll put the heater on.’
Just for a moment, she allowed herself to imagine what it would be like to be wrapped in his concern twenty-four hours a day, what it would be like to bask in his approval full time. And then, determinedly, she thrust the thought away from her and forced a calm smile to her lips.
‘Well?’ he asked her softly. ‘Do we have a bargain? A new, clean start?’
What could she say? To refuse would be both churlish and dangerous.
She nodded, unable to speak for the sudden lump of emotion in her throat. She had reached a momentous point in her life, a point of almost mystic importance; she sensed it and yet at the same time she wanted to deny it.
‘Was that nod a yes?’
She wasn’t sure how to react to him in this light-hearted, almost teasing, mood.
‘Yes.’
‘Good.’
Surely he was closer to her than he had been before? The grey eyes mesmerised her as they came closer. The car had stopped, and she gave a soft gasp as his hands left the wheel and he gathered her closer. His hands felt warm through the thinness of her shirt, and Susannah shivered beneath their slow caress.
‘No. Please don’t…’
She wasn’t sure what she was pleading for him not to do. Her brain felt like cotton wool, her will-power a practically non-existent thing that refused any aid.
His head bent and she quivered beneath the light brush of his lips against her own.
Like the magnificence of the sun suddenly illuminating the earth at dawn, she realised why it was she had fought so hard to keep him at arm’s length. She was in love with him!
She closed her eyes in shock, trying to pull away, but Hazar
d’s arms only tightened, his mouth hardening over hers. A thrill of pleasure ran through her, her lips softening and clinging. He made a sound deep in his throat; a deep male sound of appreciation of her acceptance of him, and she was lost, her whole body quivering with repressed yearning.
Here was the man who could arouse her as David had never done, who touched the innermost core of her both emotionally and physically.
‘I wanted you the first moment I set eyes on you, do you know that?’
Susannah caught the thick, muffled words as he mouthed them against her lips, and her senses quickened to a state of bemused delight. His hand found her breast and the pleasure grew. She heard a soft female moan of acquiescence and realised with shock that it was her own. She felt like someone who had stepped out of reality into another dimension. His tongue touched her lips, tracing their soft moistness, and she quivered with mute pleasure.
‘God, you don’t know what you do to me! You’ve put me through hell these last weeks, do you know that?’
Hell because he wanted her, or hell because he thought she was involved with a married man? Susannah was in no state to ask.
Was this really what she had feared when she had pretended that she was still involved with David, when she had lied and told him that she had simply been using him as a substitute for her non-existent lover?
It seemed incredible, in her sensually dazed state, that she had ever feared this bliss. It was what she had been born for; it was the culmination of all she had ever wanted out of life.
As he felt the quivering response pulse through her, Hazard groaned, trying to manoeuvre them both so that they could be closer together.
‘I think you must be a secret masochist,’ he muttered against her hair. ‘Of all the places to choose to tell me… I can’t make love to you here. If it wasn’t for the fact that we’re due to interview your author…’
Make love to her? She trembled violently beneath the onslaught of physical response his words invoked, and he felt it run through her body and cursed.
‘Yes. Yes, I know, and I want you too, but not here…’ He lifted his head and looked into her eyes, and Susannah’s heart jumped at the glazed ache of desire she saw in his. ‘Feel what you’re doing to me.’