by Penny Jordan
‘You’re an extremely lucky young woman,’ he told her firmly when he had finished. ‘You came very close to being very ill. You’ve been overdoing things my girl, and what you need….’ He broke off, turning to the door as it opened and Adam walked in.
‘Is our patient giving you any trouble doctor?’ he asked watching the colour come and go in Brooke’s face. She was sure that the doctor thought she was Adam’s girlfriend—how could he think otherwise when she was here in his bed?
‘I have just been telling her what a very lucky girl she is,’ the doctor told him. ‘What she needs now is a few more days’ rest and then a good holiday….’ He got up, smiling down at Brooke. ‘Now, you aren’t to even think of getting up for another two days at least, and then just for a few hours at a time….’
The two men walked out of the room and Brooke could hear them talking, discussing her no doubt. Their voices grew fainter and then she heard a door opening and closing. Five minutes later Adam walked back into the room, carrying a tray.
‘Mrs Benson’s home-made chicken soup,’ he told her. ‘Mrs Benson is my “daily” by the way….’
‘And I suppose she thinks I’m your latest woman as well,’ Brooke burst out bitterly, unable to keep the accusation back.
‘Too? Meaning that so does the good doctor?’ Adam arched his eyebrows, ‘Now do you understand why I chose to involve as few people as possible in your care?’
‘You could have employed a nurse … someone who would have been totally outside the company….’
‘Nurses have friends,’ he told her blandly, ‘and while I hate to sound boastful, my private life does tend to come under scrutiny from the newshounds. Believe me Brooke I had no intention of embarrassing you by looking after you, I simply thought it would prevent the sort of publicity I’m sure you’d hate….’
‘The sort of publicity that Susan wouldn’t like either,’ Brooke stormed angrily, watching his eyes narrow and darken slightly.
‘Perhaps not,’ he agreed carefully, not giving anything away, and reaching behind her to plump up her pillows. ‘Come on, try this soup, it’s delicious….’
He refused to let her talk any more, feeding her the soup in small spoonfuls. Brooke wanted to protest that she wasn’t a baby and that she could feed herself but somehow she knew that Adam would overrule her.
‘Tomorrow if you’re a very good girl I might let you have a bath,’ he teased her when she had eaten enough to satisfy him. He laughed when he saw the alarm leaping to life in her eyes. ‘Don’t worry, Mrs Benson will help you. She is someone we can trust….’
‘You mean she doesn’t gossip about your women,’ Brooke replied bitterly.
Adam put down the bowl and lifted the tray off the bed. ‘Why does the thought of being thought of as one of my “women” offend you so much?’ he asked conversationally, ‘I assure you they are all renowned for their beauty and….’
‘I know what they’re renowned for,’ Brooke snapped back, ‘and I don’t want to be classed among them….’
In her heart of hearts she knew that what she really wanted was to be his only woman, but Adam seemed to lose patience with her and snarled back angrily, ‘Don’t worry, you’re hardly likely to be, with your lack of experience.’
His condemnation hurt and she flinched back from the rebuke, knowing that it was richly deserved and yet unable to stop herself from feeling pain. She started to tremble and heard Adam curse. ‘You’re shivering,’ he told her almost accusingly. ‘Are you too hot? Too cold?’ His fingers brushed her skin, busily tugging her protective sheet more closely round her. The fact that he could be so little affected by their proximity while she was having difficulty in controlling her heart-beat and pulse rate infuriated her. ‘Why do I have to wear this …’ she demanded shrilly. ‘Why can’t I wear my nightdress?’
‘Because, my little spitfire, there’s only so much that mere man can stand, and after one night of having you cuddle up to me wearing that frivolous piece of silk and lace you are pleased to describe as “nightwear”, I decided for both our sakes, something more protective was called for, hence the sheet.’
During his speech Brooke’s face had gone from pink to white and back to deep pink again.
‘I didn’t …’ she protested huskily, ‘I….’
‘I assure you that you did,’ Adam told her mock solemnly, unable to stop his eyes from gleaming slate grey with amusement as he watched her, ‘and extremely delightful it was too. I had to forcibly remind myself that you were ill. You’re a very enticing female indeed, when you forget to be so prim and proper, but then, I’ve always known you would be.’
‘I didn’t know what I was doing….’ Even to her own ears her voice sounded strangely uncertain.
‘Then it’s just as well that I did, isn’t it?’ Adam’s voice had changed again, sounding harsh this time.
‘I’ve got to get back to the office,’ he told her curtly. ‘I’ll be back later this evening.’
When he was gone, from somewhere Brooke managed to find the energy to remove herself from his bed into another one in one of the two spare rooms. The bed felt cold and alien, and she missed the indefinable but comforting masculine scent of him which had permeated the other room.
When he returned and found her there Adam made no comment, apart from looking at her rather grimly and that night as she lay sleepless staring at the ceiling, Brooke fought against her longing to be with him. It was bad enough that she loved him; there was no point in compounding her misery by adding the torment of knowing his lovemaking only to lose it.
Three days later Dr Peters called and pronounced that Brooke was well enough to be allowed up for a few hours that evening. A rapport had sprung up between her and Mrs Benson, who far from being the disapproving dragon Brooke had envisaged, turned out to be a softly spoken Scot in her mid forties who clucked sympathetically over Brooke, and coaxed her to eat her wonderful home-made dishes.
‘As bad as Mr Hart you are,’ she complained disapprovingly when Brooke only ate a few mouthfuls of the cottage pie she had made her for lunch. ‘Only with him it’s that he doesn’t get time to eat more than a few bites.’
Her comment increased the feelings of guilt that had been tormenting Brooke for the last few days. She ought to be working; or at the very least recuperating out of Adam’s way, instead of taking up so much of his time. She had wondered why they didn’t return to Abbot’s Meade, until Dr Peters had unwittingly answered her unspoken question by telling her that during the early days of her illness he had wanted her where she could be rushed into hospital if the need had arisen. ‘Touch and go’ was how he had described her condition and Brooke winced when he lectured her on looking after herself properly.
Adam must think her every kind of fool; she knew he was fed up with the present situation; he barely spoke to her when he came home now, and often it was gone eight before he did return, spending hardly more than five minutes in her room before leaving.
No doubt he was finding it irksome having her constantly underfoot; Adam was a sensual, virile man, and there could hardly have been many nights in the past that he had spent alone, never mind close on two weeks. The thought made her go hot and cold with a desire that was daily growing almost out of control. She loved Adam and she wanted him; so badly that at times she came close to almost begging him to make love to her. Only the sturdy common sense she had always prided herself on stopped her; only the knowledge that after the blissful delirium of being with him would come the empty wastelands of being without him. At least this way she would have some of him, working closely with him, perhaps establishing a friendship which would, in the end, last far longer than mere sexual desire. Because she could not deceive herself. No matter how intense or deep her love for Adam, he could only reciprocate with physical desire, and she already knew that it would not be enough.
Sighing, Brooke got up and headed for her bathroom. Dr Peters had said she could get up and she might as well do so. In fact she felt
so much better than she had expected when she was bathed and dressed that she decided now was the time to tackle Adam about her return to Abbot’s Meade. She couldn’t continue where she was much longer without betraying how she felt about him.
At six o’clock Mrs Benson left, telling Brooke that she had left a meal prepared in the ‘fridge. ‘It only needs heating up,’ she told Brooke as she let herself out.
Eight o’clock came and went and Brooke, who had been sitting on the leather settee in the living room, stretched her tense limbs and tried to concentrate on the television programme she was watching, all the while conscious of the storm of butterflies hovering in her tummy.
By half-past eight she was so tense that she could feel the uneven thud of her own heart beat, as she battled against the physical exhaustion undermining her determination to stay awake.
She couldn’t stay here any longer; the more she thought about it, the more determined she was that she must leave, but despite her determination to stay awake, it became impossible to keep her eyes open. Her body still not recovered from her illness clamoured for sleep, the television screen flickering unwatched as Brooke gave in to it.
‘Brooke, are you all right?’
The anxiety in Adam’s voice pierced through the veils of sleep and Brooke opened her eyes, struggling to sit up and collapsing back against the cushions, wincing from the cramp pains suddenly stabbing through her ankle.
‘What is it…. What’s wrong?’ Adam flung off his raincoat as he dropped down beside her, his forehead creased in concern. ‘Dr Peters warned you not to overdo things….’
‘It’s cramp in my ankle, that’s all,’ Brooke managed to tell him breathlessly, suddenly, yearningly aware of him. His skin smelled of cold, fresh air; and it must have been raining because his hair was slightly damp. She longed to reach out and touch it, to smooth her fingers through the thick dark strands. ‘Here, let me….’ he pushed away her fingers as they reached towards her ankle, his own firmly soothing the tense mucles, massaging them into releasing her from the clamping pain, only it wasn’t merely release she felt, it was a wild, sweet aching that spread from his fingers all along her body, making it tremble with need and excitement.
She had dressed comfortably in a soft wool jumper and a matching pleated skirt and beneath the jumper she could feel her breasts tingling with aching life. Her whole body seemed to be awash with sensation and she closed her eyes as she fought against it. If the mere touch of his fingers against her skin could affect her like this how would she feel if….
‘Brooke.’
At the sharp anxiety in his voice her eyes flew open, unwittingly revealing her response to him as he looked down at her. Instantly his own eyes narrowed, darkening stormily. ‘Brooke.’ This time he said her name thickly, slowly.
Aware of the danger she was courting, Brooke struggled to sit up and pull away from him. ‘Adam, I must leave here,’ she told him nervously. ‘You’re far too busy for me to be taking up more of your time. I….’ She made the mistake of glancing at him, her glance caught by the hard male outline of his mouth, curving in a grim line of comprehension. Her stomach lurched protestingly as she watched, mesmerised. Her own lips suddenly felt dry and she touched them lightly with her tongue, shivering with a tension that had nothing to do with the room temperature. More than anything else in the world she wanted the feel and taste of Adam’s mouth against her own; she wanted to know the possession of those hard male lips, to feel…. She closed her eyes, reeling with the shock of her own emotions; with the depth of her hunger and the shameless wantonness of it.
Adam misinterpreted her action and leaned over her, fingers curling into her shoulders. ‘Brooke, don’t faint on me now.’ Brooke heard him command. ‘Dr Peters says you aren’t well enough to fend for yourself yet. You heard him, you need a holiday….’
She opened her eyes, intending to argue with him and found he was so close that she could see the pores of his skin; smell the intimate male scent that was his alone. Almost instinctively she swayed towards him, trapped in the sensual burst of pleasure his proximity gave her. She could feel the fierce thud of his heart and the heat coming off his skin beneath his jacket and shirt. His fingers bit into her shoulders as he supported her, and beneath the healthy colour of his tan, his skin seemed to pale and tighten over his bones, a febrile glitter darkening his eyes.
‘The way you’re looking at me would tempt a saint,’ he muttered rawly, watching her, ‘and that’s something I’ve never claimed to be. God knows I shouldn’t be doing this.’ He made to pull away and Brooke’s heart leaped in sharp dread. He couldn’t leave her now. Her hands locked behind his neck, her face upturned towards him.
‘Brooke….’ Her name was a groan of despair on his lips, lost as they found the parted sweetness of hers. A wild feverish pleasure coursed through her as Brooke responded mindlessly to his kiss, fuelling the fires she could sense burning inside him. All the advice she had given herself was forgotten as she returned his kisses abandonedly, wanting only to take what she could; to live only for the moment. All her barriers were down; her fierce response to Adam’s kiss burning away all restraint. His hands moved from her shoulders down over her body, moulding and exploring, enticing her to arch wantonly against him. The hard pressure of his mouth increased, his tongue investigating the recesses of her mouth. Brooke ached with need and pleasure. She wanted to be close to him without the barrriers of their clothes. Her fingers tugged almost blindly at the buttons on his shirt, and she heard his half-stifled groan, her famished senses relishing the deep intensity of it, half of her registering his muttered, ‘Yes … yes … I need to be close to you Brooke,’ while the other urged her to hurry, her skin on fire for the soothing balm of his. She shivered in hectic excitement when he removed her jumper, her skirt soon following it on to the floor. She had managed to unfasten half the buttons on his shirt, but Adam completed the task for her, wrenching impatiently at them and then discarding both shirt and jacket. His torso gleamed softly gold in the lamplight and Brooke shivered again, mesmerised by the male beauty of him, reaching out to touch him with trembling fingers, lost in a tactile voyage of discovery, emotion after emotion chasing one another across her pale face as she touched and explored the hard shape of his shoulders. A pulse thudded erratically in his throat and she touched that too, with one finger, feeling the hurried thud of his life blood and wondering at her ability to increase it. She felt him swallow through rigid throat muscles and looked into his face, barely recognising the look she saw there. Adam, who was always so calm and controlled, was looking at her with a darkly intense hunger, wanting her so badly she could see his need.
Shivers of fire ran over her skin, her heart thudding in time to his pulse as she lifted her head and placed her lips against his throat, shuddering in reaction to Adam’s thickly muttered cry of pleasure. His thumbs stroked the soft curve of flesh exposed by the lace cups of her bra, and Brooke thought she heard him mutter, ‘this is complete madness’, before he reached behind her, unsnapping it, his palms warm as they cupped her breasts, warmth turning to liquid heat as the pads of his thumbs rubbed erotically over her hard nipples. Heat, liquid, fiery waves of it submerged every other thought, her body responding feverishly to his touch, her lips scattering tiny kisses against his skin as Adam’s hands slid over her body, moulding her against him until the dark roughness of his body hair rasped against the delicacy of her breasts and a surging thrust of desire made her gasp and melt against him, arching into him, driven mad by a need to be part of him.
‘Brooke.’ His mouth found the tender cord of her throat and his teeth nipped softly into her skin, sending shivering waves of sensation spreading through her, the rough rasp of his tongue as it stroked along her throat making her ache with need.
‘You’re beautiful.’ He released her, pushing her down into the settee, studying her with sombre intensity, his hand dark against the paleness of her hip, his thumb probing the barrier of her tiny briefs.
As
he bent over her Brooke felt her senses swim with delirious anticipation. This was nothing like how she had imagined their lovemaking would be. She had envisaged him as a tender, slightly distant lover making allowances for her inexperience, but instead he seemed to be as unable to control his responses as she was her own and the result was a fierce, explosive need that seemed to grow with every look and touch. She could almost feel the tension in his body; the hunger that fed on hers, and deliberately drew it out as his fingers stroked her skin, upwards over the narrow indentation of her waist, exploring her rib cage, cupping the fullness of her breasts.
Her breath caught in her throat as he bent over her, touching the aching hardness of her nipples with his tongue, teasing them with its lightly moist caresses until the hunger inside her threatened to explode and she reached up, capturing his head with a small moan of need that seemed to need no explanation. His mouth opened warmly over her breast, his teeth grating erotically over the tender skin.
Brooke was barely aware of digging her nails into his back, or of arching fiercely beneath him, or indeed of the effect her feverish response had had on him until she heard the hoarse sound he made as he released one breast to caress the other, his body hard with arousal as it held her against the settee.
The waistband of his trousers was an impediment her shaking fingers didn’t want. She wanted to feel all of him against her. She wanted…. She gave a smothered cry of pleasure, her frantic movements stilling as she felt the erotic pull of his mouth against her breast, the laboured sound of Adam’s breathing mingling with her soft cries of pleasure.
Suddenly she could wait no longer. ‘Adam … please….’ she implored huskily. ‘Please….’ He shifted his weight a little, his hand going to his belt while she watched in feverish fascination, and then like iced water being poured down her spine the instrusive sound of the telephone broke the spell of their lovemaking. She shivered with cold and shock as Adam moved away from her, turning his back to her as he spoke into the receiver.