by Sara Craven
It occurred to her that this was what it must be like to be Jake’s girlfriend in reality. To be another Adela Mason, always wondering if every other woman in the room was a potential rival, and if so how to deal with it. Or to accept, like the unknown Celia Forrest, that Jake did not play for keeps and walk away before the inevitable happened.
And found she was putting down her dessert spoon, her appetite for floating island pudding suddenly replaced by a tight knot of unhappiness in her chest.
Finding herself overtaken by the startling and appalling realisation that no amount of money could ever make up for the kind of wretchedness that was going to be waiting for her once the weekend was over.
Oh God, she thought, swallowing. How can I have allowed this to happen to me? And let it get to this stage?
It wasn’t just her first confrontation with actual sexual temptation, or finding herself in close proximity to a diabolically attractive and experienced man. If that was so, she might have found some means of dealing with it.
But it was no longer as simple as that. In some devastating way, her heart and her head had somehow become involved too, so that her often-repeated mantra. ‘All over soon’—was no longer reassurance but a cry of pain.
And the knowledge of that scared her half to death.
She was suddenly, startlingly aware, without even glancing in his direction, that Jake was no longer looking at his companion but at her. Knew, too, that if she met his gaze she might not have the sophistication to hide her inner tumult from his perception.
Keeping her eyes fixed resolutely on the table, she thought—I shall have to be so careful. So desperately careful.
It was a relief when the meal ended and the other guests started to arrive.
Marin’s plan was to get lost once more in the general melee, and maybe beat a strategic retreat back to her room, only to realise she was no longer wearing her usual protective camouflage, and that the younger crowd who’d now joined the party were homing in on her and sweeping her along to where the music was already playing.
It was a while since she’d been dancing, but she soon discovered that her natural grace and rhythm had not deserted her. And if the frankly appreciative comments about her appearance from her various partners were a little embarrassing, they were also gratifying. Especially when Diana had greeted her earlier with the kind of look usually accorded to an earwig lurking in a salad.
She’d imagined that the party would divide, with Graham and his older guests remaining in the drawing room, but she was entirely wrong. The beat of the music seemed to act like a magnet for everyone.
She caught a glimpse of Jake partnering his brunette, and deliberately turned to take him out of her line of vision.
He’s doing the right thing, she told herself defensively. She’s glamorous and sophisticated—all the things I’m not—and no one in the world would be the least bit surprised if he moved on to her. Even Diana Halsay would have to believe it, and admit defeat.
I just didn’t expect it to happen like this, or so soon. But I have no grounds for complaint. All I can do is put up and shut up, because that’s what I’m being paid for.
In the meantime, the music was a shield for her to hide behind, and if her smile felt as if it had been nailed on, and her brain ached with the effort of being pleasant to all these strangers and forcing herself to flirt back, she was the only one who knew it.
Until, inevitably, the amateur DJ decided to change the mood and the music softened and slowed into dreaminess, encouraging the gyrating couples to move closer, even to touch.
And suddenly Jake was beside her.
He said softly, ‘I think this is our dance,’ and made to take her in his arms.
For a moment she looked at him almost dazedly as an anguished voice inside her head began whispering, ‘I can’t do this—I can’t let him hold me as if I’m the one he truly wants to be near. I can’t slow-dance with him and feel his lips against my hair, my face; I couldn’t bear it. It’s a pretence too far…’
She stepped back, forcing another smile, even managing to make it rueful this time. ‘Jake, I’m really sorry, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to excuse me. I’m—all partied out and falling asleep on my feet, so I’ve decided to call it a night.’
There was an odd silence, then Jake said courteously, ‘Yes, darling, of course. I quite understand. I’ll try not to disturb you when I come up.’
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘That would be—kind.’ She looked around her, smiled again rather waveringly, said a general goodnight and tried not to make it too obvious that she was in flight.
She was breathless when she reached her room. Breathless, and suddenly close to tears. Fiercely, she fought them back as she closed the door, leaning back against its panels.
‘Get a grip,’ she adjured herself harshly, and aloud. ‘If this is how you are after forty-eight hours with him, what the hell would you be like after a week? This is sheer self-preservation you’re doing here.’
Someone had been up as usual to turn down her bed, light the lamp on the night table and draw the curtains. Her window had been left open, and the folds of chintz were stirring in the slight breeze, which also brought all too clearly the sweet, seductive sound of the music below.
Something she definitely didn’t need, she thought, crossing the room and pulling the casement shut with a sharp jerk, trying hard at the same time not to wonder if Jake had returned to his brunette.
That, she told herself, is not your business. And you’d be better occupied concentrating on that unfinished list of stuff for Essex than indulging in useless and damaging speculation.
But first, she decided, slipping off her sandals and flexing her toes, she would get undressed and into bed. Not that she was tired. Not yet.
Restless, she thought. Edgy. That’s me. But a night’s sleep will get me back on track.
She took one last look in the mirror to say a faintly regretful goodbye to the flushed, dishevelled stranger in the sexy dress, then reached round to undo her zip. Only to discover, after several minutes of determined tugging, that it was refusing to move as much as a millimetre.
Marin, remembering the difficulties of fastening it when she was dressing, gave a silent groan.
Think, she told herself robustly. Use some logic. If you can twist the dress round somehow so the zip’s at the front, you’ll at least be able to see what the problem is and have a chance of dealing with it.
But this soon proved to be wishful thinking. The tight bustier clung to her as if it was a second skin and refused to budge in any other direction.
She said aloud, ‘Oh, this is ludicrous.’ The dress might have transformed her for a couple of hours, but she had no wish to spend the rest of the night in it. Or, for choice, even another five minutes.
Taking a deep breath, she tried the zip again, holding the edge of the dress firmly with her other hand, pleading silently as she tried to coax the little metal tongue downwards. But all to no avail.
She wanted very badly to jump up and down screaming, but restrained herself. Losing one’s temper with inanimate objects was a waste of time. She needed patience and perseverance instead.
Or someone to help. Well, one person, and he wasn’t there. He hadn’t followed her upstairs tonight, she thought, her throat tightening. She was on her own.
Half an hour later, her arms aching, she gave up the fight. She walked over to the bed and lay down on top of it, first carefully smoothing the taffeta skirt to avoid undue creasing. Then she switched off her lamp and resolutely closed her eyes.
She was almost dozing when she heard the sound of a door shutting. She sat up, staring at the thin thread of light visible from the next room, then slid off the bed, trod barefoot across the carpet and knocked.
There was a brief pause, then the door opened and Jake confronted her. She realised she must have heard him returning from the bathroom, because he was wearing a towelling robe and his hair was damp, indicating that in s
pite of the lateness of the hour he’d taken a shower.
He looked her over, unsmiling. ‘You gave the impression downstairs that you were worn out,’ he said. ‘So why aren’t you in bed and fast asleep?’
She lifted her chin. ‘Because I can’t get my dress off. The zip’s stuck.’
Jake shrugged, his mouth hard. ‘Then ring the bell for Mrs Martin. Get her to bring some scissors and cut you out of it.’
‘At this time of night?’ Marin stared at him. ‘When we’re supposed to be lovers on terms of total intimacy? Wouldn’t you be the one I’d naturally turn to first? The only one?’ She shook her head. ‘Unless, of course, you want to confirm to Diana that there really is nothing between us. Because that’s what she’ll think when she hears about it—and it will probably be served up with her morning tea.’
She paused. ‘Besides, I don’t want it simply—hacked off me. Do you know what it cost?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘It’s not that important.’
‘Well, it is to me. It’s far too beautiful a dress to damage.’ And for the first time in my life I felt beautiful, wearing it. And desirable.
She added, her voice uneven, ‘Couldn’t you at least try to free the zip for me before the whole thing has to be ruined?’
‘Slight problem there,’ he said curtly. ‘It would mean I’d have to touch you.’
‘That doesn’t matter…’
‘It bloody well mattered when I wanted to dance with you a while ago,’ he retorted. ‘Or did you think I wouldn’t know?’
Her throat tightened. She made herself shrug lightly. ‘You seemed to be having such a good time, I was merely trying to be tactful.’
His brows rose. ‘You mean, the lovely Vanessa?’ he asked sardonically. ‘Divorced, available and a last-minute addition to the guest list, as she artlessly revealed over the soup? Who’d arrived by taxi but was so hoping for a lift home? That Vanessa?’
He gave an impatient sigh. ‘For God’s sake, Marin, it was Diana trying to set me up. Couldn’t you see that? God help me, I was sending out Mayday signals to you from the middle of dinner, but you were clearly too busy to notice, so I was stuck with her.’
‘Not many men would have found her company a hardship,’ she said defiantly.
‘I’m sure that’s true,’ Jake agreed politely. ‘She was certainly easy on the eye, and eager to please. Unfortunately, she was also drenched in my least favourite scent. I was still reeking of it when I came upstairs, which is why I took a shower.’ He paused. ‘In case you were wondering.’
‘I wasn’t,’ Marin said. It was her turn to hesitate. ‘But why would Mrs Halsay do such a thing?’
He shrugged again. ‘I presume in order to demonstrate to her husband that I’m still an unreliable, womanising bastard not safe to be allowed near any good-looking woman,’ he returned caustically. ‘And your sudden retired—hurt departure wouldn’t have helped matters, either,’ he added with a touch of grimness. ‘You’d certainly get the sympathy vote from a lot of people.’
‘I wasn’t looking for that.’ She gestured helplessly. ‘I don’t expect you to understand, but I’d just had enough.’
His mouth tightened. ‘I know the feeling.’ He paused. ‘Now turn round and I’ll see what I can do with that zip.’ As she obeyed, he added curtly, ‘I suggest you breathe in very deeply. And keep still.’
Easier said than done, she thought, when her whole being seemed to be shivering, anticipating the first brush of his hand against her skin. But maybe by dint of tensing every muscle and holding her breath at the same time she might be able to hide the deep inner trembling she could neither deny nor control—at least for a moment or two.
She felt his warm breath stir the soft tendrils of hair on the nape of her neck as he hooked his fingers into the back of her dress, easing it carefully away from her body.
He gave a quiet whistle. ‘You seem to have caught half the lining,’ he commented. ‘Maybe we should admit defeat and send for those scissors.’ He waited for a moment, then added. ‘Unless you really want me to try.’
She said, dry-mouthed, ‘Yes.’ And then, ‘Please.’
Realising for the first time, as she did so, exactly what she was inviting. And knowing with mingled shame and excitement that she would not change a thing.
It was sheer torment, she soon realised, to stand there feeling his cool fingers moving against her naked spine.
Although, admittedly, there was nothing remotely sexual in his touch. He was simply doing what he’d been asked, no more.
But the aching, quivering sensations inside her that seemed to be spreading to every nerve-ending she possessed told her that it was enough. Even—too much.
Hidden in the folds of her skirt, her hands were curling into fists, the nails scoring the soft palms as she fought to maintain the semblance of outward control.
Jake said, ‘Let’s see…’ Then, ‘Ah,’ on a note of quiet triumph as the zip moved down a little.
He added, ‘Can you hold your breath for me once more?’
She said, ‘No problem.’
Nor was it, she thought, because it gave her the perfect excuse to be breathless afterwards, for her voice to sound husky.
‘Right.’ He paused. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’
His hand was right inside her dress now, tugging at the imprisoned fabric, and she stood, braced and motionless, feeling the zip edging down little by little as he freed it.
He said, ‘That’s it,’ and the zip slid down unhampered to its fullest extent and Marin grabbed at the front of her dress to prevent that slipping too.
She should step away, she told herself. Thank him politely for his help, say goodnight and—part, closing the door between them.
Jake’s hands lifted, lightly clasping her bare shoulders, his thumbs smoothing her skin, tracing the delicate bone structure. He’d moved closer too, making her suddenly, startlingly conscious of the heat of his body against her exposed back.
Now was the moment to speak, she thought with a kind of desperation. To end this while it was still possible for her to do so. Before all that she was feeling—wanting—overwhelmed her.
Because she did not do things like this. It was a principle, a cornerstone of how she lived. Or was it simply that she had never before known real temptation? Real desire?
And now that she knew, her whole being was crying out for fulfilment by the man who had awakened her to fulfilment’s possibilities. Because this might be her only chance for it to happen.
One night, she thought, her mind suddenly reeling. One night. Oh God, is that really so much to ask?
His fingers brushed her hair away from her neck, and she felt his lips touch its tender nape, moving slowly—easily, on her skin. It was the lightest of pressures, like the brush of a butterfly’s wing, but it made her whole being shiver with instinctive, uncontrollable longing.
But as her back arched helplessly, achingly, in response, Jake took his hands from her shoulders, swiftly and deliberately setting her free again.
For an instant, she stood motionless, still holding the boned taffeta bodice over her breasts. Then her body’s urgency—need—took over and she let the dress slip down, baring her to the waist, then to the hips, until finally it slid to the floor and she stepped out of it.
She turned slowly to face him, her silk and lace briefs her only covering.
Jake looked back at her, his expression totally arrested, the lines of his cheekbones, his mouth and jaw sharply, even starkly delineated, the blue eyes burning.
He took an unsteady breath, then began to shake his head, his lips shaping a word she knew would be ‘No.’
With a little sob, she flung herself towards him, her entire body one desperate plea. As she pressed herself against him, the towelling robe grazed her hardening nipples, sending a sharp ache of longing coursing like wildfire through her veins. And deep within her she felt her muscles clench almost savagely.
Her arms reached up round his neck, dr
awing him down to her and to the first kiss she had ever offered him of her own accord.
His mouth found hers, exploring its trembling contours without haste. Possessing them, as one hand twined in the soft fall of her hair, letting it slide through his fingers as they kissed. The other hand clasped her hip, pulling her closer as his lips parted hers, his tongue delicately, sensuously probing her moist, inner sweetness.
He raised his head at last, looking down at her, turning her slightly so that she was leaning back in his arms as he planted a trail of kisses down the line of her neck and into the vulnerable hollows at its base, making her pulse leap and dance.
His hand found one soft breast and cupped it, teasing the awakened and quivering peak with a fingertip before taking the small, scented mound gently into his mouth and continuing the delicious torment with his tongue, forcing a gasp from her throat at this unaccustomed, bewildering delight.
At the same time, his hand strayed lightly down her slenderness, whispering over her skin, discovering without haste every slender curve, angle and hollow, and as he did so brushing away the last fragile barrier to his total exploration of her.
Marin swayed in his arms, eyes closed, her uncovered body totally pliant, the breath catching in her throat as his fingers reached her thighs, gently stroking the silken inner flesh before beginning a more intimate quest. A small stifled cry, half protest, half hunger, escaped her as for the first time in her life she experienced a man’s touch like cool gossamer against the scalding heat of her. Her body moved, lifting instinctively, helplessly in response to the subtle pressure of his caress, and she felt the melting rush of a desire as wanton as it was unfamiliar.
Her legs suddenly seemed unable to support her and she caught at the lapel of his robe, trying to steady herself, shocked at her unguarded flesh’s primitive reaction to its first real experience of carnality. To the sweet, languorous weakness which seemed to be invading her entire being.
Jake said her name, his own voice hardly more than a sigh as he picked her up in his arms and carried her into his room. To his bed.