One-Click Buy: September Harlequin Presents

by Penny Jordan

  In fact, Darci wasn’t sure she didn’t have a fever, after all!

  She was definitely more aware of Luc Gambrelli, more physically aware of him, than she had a right to be…

  ‘And what is your diagnosis?’ Luc persisted, slightly surprised—although why he should be he had no idea—at her choice of profession.

  But, in his defence, no doctor he had ever consulted, on the rare occasions that he’d been ill, had ever looked like Darci Wilde.

  In fact, he would have thought that just facing all that wild red hair, those come-to-bed green eyes, the full pout of her mouth and the temptation of her full, thrusting breasts across the desk in a doctor’s consulting room would be enough to raise any man’s temperature!

  As his own was rising now, as he realised that she wore absolutely nothing beneath those striped pyjamas…

  As garments, they shouldn’t have been in the least sexy. They were obviously meant for someone much bigger in size—the shoulders hanging loose and the sleeves falling over the slenderness of her hands, and the trousers only held in place by the tie-string at her slender waist as they bagged about her hips. With their awful green-and-cream striped pattern, the pyjamas should have been anything but sexually alluring. But the low neckline of the jacket revealed the slenderness of Darci’s throat and a creamy expanse of her bare breasts as they thrust pertly, her nipples taut, against the cotton material.

  Luc could imagine nothing more erotic than slowly undoing the buttons down the front of the pyjama jacket to reveal those thrusting breasts, then lavishing the full attention of his lips and tongue across her hardened nipples…

  ‘My diagnosis?’ Darci echoed, moistening her lips before replying, although she was slightly disconcerted as Luc’s dark gaze followed the movement. ‘I have the start of a cold, I believe,’ she dismissed briskly, in an effort to dispel the air of—of—intimacy that slowly seemed to be surrounding the two of them.

  Where was the cautious Kerry, the worrier, when Darci most needed her?

  Although after Kerry’s anxiety over the last two days, she had a feeling her friend might have little sympathy with Darci’s present predicament. Especially as it was completely self-inflicted! Kerry, without having even met Luc Gambrelli, had warned Darci against interfering, seeming to know instinctively that it would be dangerous to wake this sleeping tiger.

  It was a pity that Darci’s instincts hadn’t been as acute!

  And that she hadn’t thought to pre-warn Grant that under no circumstances was he to reveal her address to Luc Gambrelli….

  But it had never occurred to Darci, as she’d made her fiendish plan to leave Luc Gambrelli sitting at Garstang’s, that he would actually feel concerned enough about her supposed ill-health to actually seek her out!

  The man was completely unpredictable, she decided.

  ‘As I’m sure you appreciate,’ she went on firmly, ‘there’s no actual cure for the common cold, and it’s also highly contagious. In fact, I don’t think you should even be here in the same room with me,’ she added, belatedly registering the intensity of his dark gaze as it roamed freely across her face and body.

  Luc gave a slight smile as he recognised her skittishness for exactly what it was. ‘But I couldn’t possibly desert you when you aren’t well,’ he drawled huskily. ‘Do you live here alone?’ he probed, having thought it was rather a large apartment for just one person.

  He wondered if the owner of the pyjamas didn’t live here, too…Although he would have thought Grant would be more circumspect about telling him of Darci’s living arrangements if that were the case…

  ‘My flatmate has gone out this evening,’ Darci informed him. ‘I have two flatmates, actually, but one of them is away at the moment,’ she finished.

  Luc quirked blond brows. ‘Male or female?’

  ‘Both female, of course,’ she came back tartly. ‘Now, I really do think you should leave, Luc—’

  ‘And I think that you need someone to take care of you—at least until your flatmate returns,’ he cut in decisively as he slipped his jacket off and laid it across one of the chairs. ‘Point me in the direction of the kitchen and I’ll get you something cold to drink. It’s important to keep up your liquids when you have a fever, isn’t it?’ he opined, when she looked totally nonplussed.

  Darci couldn’t answer him for several seconds, totally thrown by the expanse of his broad back in the black silk shirt, and by how his muscles rippled beneath the softness of the material.

  She had no idea how much time Luc necessarily spent behind a desk for his work, but he obviously made time to work out in a gym: his shoulders were wide and powerful, his chest muscles, and his stomach lean and flat.

  In fact, all that lean maleness took her breath away!

  Maybe she did have a fever? It would certainly explain the symptoms she was exhibiting: shortness of breath, fevered brow, flushed cheeks and a dry throat.

  But she had a feeling that sexual awareness would also explain her ailments—the aching, heavy feeling of her breasts, and the moist heat gathering between her thighs!

  She swallowed hard. ‘There really is no need for you to stay, Luc. I was about to go to bed anyway—’ She broke off, her eyes wide, and gave Luc an awkward glance for what she had just said.

  Luc gave a knowing smile at her obvious discomfort. ‘Surely, Darci, you don’t imagine that I’m about to take advantage of your weakened state?’ he mocked softly, all the time knowing that was exactly what he had been thinking of doing!

  In fact, he seemed to have thought of nothing else, anticipated nothing else, but taking this woman to bed for the last two days. The memory of those challenging green eyes, her temptingly full lips and the lush promise of her body had intruded into his thoughts all too often during the last forty-eight hours.

  Finding her here wearing nothing but those disreputable pyjamas was doing absolutely nothing for his tenuous restraint!

  ‘Of course not,’ she dismissed sharply, her moss-green gaze no longer meeting his. ‘I—You’ll find some juice in the fridge in the kitchen.’ Reluctantly, she pointed him in the right direction.

  In keeping with the Georgian building in which the flat was housed, the kitchen was long and rambling, with a large worktable in its centre and a breakfast bar at one end, at which it was possible to sit and eat. The room was obviously normally at the centre of life in this spacious apartment. The pots and pans hanging on one wall showed evidence of frequent use, along with the dried herbs set next to the Aga range, for adding to each dish as it was prepared.

  A capable cook himself when there was the need, Luc could easily envisage cooking a meal in here with Darci—with or without the pyjamas.

  Preferably without!

  His body hardened just at the thought of a naked Darci moving effortlessly around the kitchen as they prepared a meal together, at the image of the fullness of her naked breasts, and those lean hips and thighs with a triangle of fiery red hair at their apex…

  Having arrived at Garstang’s on time this evening, he had been at first irritated, then worried, when Darci hadn’t arrived at the restaurant at the appointed time. Then the pendulum had swung to anger as the minutes had ticked by with no sign of her arrival nor a telephone call to explain her tardiness.

  It had been almost a relief when James, the maître d’ had approached his table with the message that Darci had telephoned and was unable to join him after all because she wasn’t well.

  Almost…

  Because Luc hadn’t been fooled for a minute by the telephone message. In fact, he was sure that James hadn’t been, either. The surprised look in the other man’s eyes had been in complete contrast to his politely bland expression! Luc knew that if Darci had really been ill, she would have telephoned the restaurant much earlier than she had to inform him she wasn’t able to join him.

  Which meant she had to have deliberately left him waiting at the table in Garstang’s.

  The question was, why had she?


  Luc had been a little taken aback two evenings ago when Darci had made it a condition of their date that he take her somewhere sinfully expensive if he wanted her to meet him at all. The fact that she then hadn’t even bothered to turn up had intrigued him enough for him to take the unprecedented step of contacting Grant in order to ask for his sister’s address.

  Grant’s surprise that his sister and Luc were actually supposed to be out on a date together this evening had been even more interesting, and posed the question why hadn’t Darci informed her twin on Thursday evening that she had agreed to have dinner with Luc tonight?

  Luc had a lot of questions where Darci Wilde was concerned.

  Questions, one way or another, he was determined to have answers to…

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘DRINK some of this. It will make you feel better.’

  Darci, sitting cross-legged on the sofa, turned frowningly to take the glass of orange juice from Luc’s long tapered fingers, feeling like a fraud at his unexpected display of kindness.

  Who would have thought that the heartless Luc Gambrelli, after having been informed Darci wasn’t well, would actually come here like this and offer to care for her until Kerry returned later this evening?

  Darci certainly hadn’t.

  It didn’t exactly fit in with her image of him as a selfish playboy, did it? she acknowledged, a troubled frown creasing her brow as she sipped the cold juice.

  Maybe—

  ‘I also brought you this,’ Luc murmured, before placing something against her forehead.

  That ‘something’ was several ice cubes wrapped in cling film which, once placed against Darci’s forehead, made her arch up in surprise. Her back stiffened as the intense cold was almost painful against her overheated skin.

  ‘Good grief!’ she gasped breathlessly, and she struggled to sit up—the action made harder because of the way she was sitting cross-legged. Her awkwardness dislodged the makeshift ice-pack and caused the cling film to burst open and scatter the ice cubes.

  Most of them down the front of Darci’s pyjama jacket!

  ‘Oh, dear,’ Luc said ruefully as Darci, her entangled legs making it difficult for her to stand up, flapped the pyjama jacket in an effort to stop the icy cubes coming into contact with her flesh. The movement gave Luc, as he stood behind the sofa, tantalising glimpses of her bared breasts…

  They were firm and uptilting, their nipples rose-pink, hard and enticing, causing his own flesh to burn, to stiffen, as his body responded.

  Luc took a step around the sofa. ‘Would you like me to—?’

  ‘Don’t even think about it!’ Darci cut in warningly as she finally managed to stand up, allowing half a dozen ice cubes to fall onto the carpeted floor as she backed away from him. ‘You did that on purpose!’ she accused furiously, her cheeks flushed, her green eyes sparkling.

  Much as they would look when she was sexually rather than emotionally aroused…

  ‘I was merely trying to help, Darci,’ he contradicted. Her pyjama jacket was damp in several places now, the wetness of the material clinging to her luscious curves…

  ‘By almost giving me a heart attack?’ she scorned. ‘I don’t think so!’

  Luc didn’t think so, either, having considered, as he took the ice cubes out of the freezer to put into her drink, that perhaps a cold awakening was the least Darci deserved for what he was now convinced had been a deliberate ploy on her part to stand him up this evening.

  Since arriving at her apartment, Luc had noted the look of absolute horror on Darci’s face when she’d opened the door and found him standing there, had taken in at a glance the almost empty bowl of popcorn in the sitting-room and the fact that the DVD player was on ‘Pause’, and had become convinced that Darci was no more ill than he was! Before he’d arrived she had obviously been lying on the sofa indulging herself by watching a movie and eating popcorn. Toffee popcorn, he had noted irrelevantly.

  The fact that she had decided to continue with the deception of her supposed illness had brought out a need for retribution in him. Hence the deliberately precarious cling film wrap on the ice cubes…

  ‘Now, why on earth would you even suggest that I should deliberately cause those ice cubes to fall?’ he asked with feigned innocence.

  Darci didn’t know—surely Luc couldn’t have guessed that her excuse about being ill in order to avoid their date this evening had been a complete fabrication?—she was only sure that he had.

  ‘Because—Well, because—’ She broke off as Luc took another step towards her, taking a step back herself as she easily read the intent in those dark, compelling eyes.

  Luc Gambrelli was going to kiss her!

  ‘I told you not to even think about it!’ she warned sharply as, her gaze fixed on his, she continued to back away—only to come to an abrupt halt as her back hit the wall.

  Leaving her trapped by the obviously determined Luc Gambrelli.

  ‘Stay away from me,’ she told him breathlessly, eyes wide with apprehension as he continued to move stealthily towards her.

  Like the stalking predator he was…

  ‘Are you sure that’s what you really want, Darci?’ he questioned, and he took the two steps that brought him to stand dangerously close to her.

  Darci wasn’t sure of anything any more—except that she didn’t dare allow Luc Gambrelli to kiss her.

  Because, against all reasoning, all her inner warnings that this man was a consummate flirt, as well as being a selfish playboy, she wanted him to kiss her!

  Her body ached with wanting to feel his hard sculptured lips against hers, her nipples were tingling with awareness, and her inner thighs were warm—becoming warmer by the second!

  ‘I didn’t think so, Darci,’ he said, his gaze steadily holding hers as he reached out to smooth her hair back over her shoulders, before stroking his fingertips from the hollows at the base of her throat down to the valley between her breasts.

  She couldn’t breathe—had forgotten how to breathe!—as the touch of those lean, caressing fingers seemed to burn against her flesh. She was completely mesmerised as Luc’s head slowly lowered to hers and he claimed her lips with his—gently, softly, enticingly—sipping from her lips, parting them with the tip of his tongue. The hardness of his thighs, pressed intimately against hers, told her of his own arousal…

  Darci had no idea what was happening to her as her body curved weakly into his, was only aware that in Luc’s arms she had become someone different, someone she didn’t recognise. Her body felt full and lush, her breasts and thighs sensitive to his pressing demand, all of her senses now screaming for his intimate touch.

  As his lips became heated on hers, as he deepened this kiss and his hand moved to cup beneath one throbbing breast, his thumb stroking unerringly across the hardened tip, Darci forgot everything and everyone else, able only to feel and taste Luc.

  Her hands were crushed against his chest, against warm skin and solid muscle, and every inch of him was hard male as his mouth continued to plunder and capture hers, his tongue seeking out every secret as it probed and caressed and duelled with hers. Her throat arched instinctively as he broke that kiss to trail moist kisses against that sensitive column, down to the creamy swell of her breasts, his hands now busy with the buttons down the front of her pyjama jacket.

  He looked up, his gaze easily holding hers captive as he peeled the sides of the jacket back, his eyes darkening appreciatively as he finally looked down at the naked fullness of her breasts.

  ‘You’re beautiful,’ he groaned achingly, and his head lowered.

  Darci barely had time to draw in a ragged breath before his mouth closed moistly over one turgid nipple, drawing its fullness into his warmth as his tongue licked and stroked its ultra-sensitive tip and his other hand captured its twin, to caress and roll the peak between his fingertips. Waves of restless need washed over her as she felt herself swelling, as hot moisture pulsed between her thighs.

  Luc had never tasted anythin
g, anyone, as delicious as Darci. Her breast was pure nectar as he drank his fill of her with his lips and tongue, as he laved her nipple, sucking harder on that dusky tip as she held his head cradled against her and he heard her throaty groans of pleasure.

  He continued to suckle her breast as his hand moved to the tie on her pyjama bottoms, deftly releasing the bow to let them fall to the floor so that he might touch the flesh beneath, seeking, caressing, gently cupping her there. He was able to feel her fiery heat, her dampness, her legs parting as she completely opened herself to him.

  Her hands moved up to grasp his shoulders as he made his claim on her heat, stroking those soft, moist lips so that she arched against him.

  She was on fire with need, Darci acknowledged, as she moved to allow Luc greater access between her legs. Her neck arched, thrusting her breast into his mouth as he entered her with first one finger and then two. His thumb sought out the hard nub above and he stroked her to a sobbing release that caught her and carried her over the edge of an abyss, as wave after wave of heat and sensation made her body pulse and contract in pure pleasure.

  That sobbing release turned to genuine distress as reality hit her like a tidal wave. As she realised in whose arms she was, whose caressing hands had been on and in her body only seconds ago.

  Her lids were heavy as she raised them to look up at Luc Gambrelli. The dark glitter of his eyes and the flush to his cheeks told of his own arousal.

  An unfulfilled arousal.

  Darci pulled away from him to hold the two sides of the pyjama top across her breasts and thighs, her legs still shaking from the force of her release.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Luc prompted huskily, as he saw her inner struggle to accept what had just happened between them.

  He hadn’t meant for things to go quite as far as they had—had meant only to demonstrate to Darci how futile it was for her to try to avoid being with him the way she had earlier this evening.

  Instead of just doing that he had become carried away—with Darci’s arousal, as well as his own. Unable to resist touching her, caressing her, unable to resist being inside her as her body exploded and convulsed in release.