As she looked at him, she realised that some of her horror must be showing on her face, because he was smiling slightly, his eyes cool as they held hers.
She looked away, cursing the colour that was flushing her cheeks. She felt Oliver moving a little closer to her, and knew that he had seen her reaction to Jake. She wanted to act normally, but she couldn't think of a single thing to say.
Luckily Oliver did it for her. 'Great party,' she heard him say.
'Yes, it is, isn't it.' Tess was looking radiantly happy. 'And guess what, Jake's just given me another present.' She looked up into her brother's face, her love in her eyes. From beneath her lashes, Deborah watched Jake smiling down indulgently at the younger girl. She felt her heart beating faster and closed her eyes, wanting only to get away. But as that was impossible, she forced herself to listen to what Tess was saying. 'Jake's bought the lease of a flat in Kensington—isn't it fantastic? I can move in whenever I like. A flat of my own—I can't believe it!'
'That's wonderful.' Deborah carefully avoided looking at Jake, although she was so aware of him that she was trembling.
'Jake's wonderful,' Tess corrected, her eyes shining with excitement.
'I doubt Deborah would agree,' Jake said sardonically, staring at Deborah's downturned face.
'I ... I don't know what you mean,' she muttered, glaring at him. He smiled. 'Dance with me then,' he suggested smoothly.
With Tess looking on, obviously unaware of the tension between them, there was nothing she could do.
In furious silence she allowed him to lead her on to the dance floor, where as if by order, the fates working against her, the music changed to a slow lilting waltz. She went into his arms stiffly, her heart pounding as he held her.
'Did you arrange this?' she demanded under her breath, taking her anger with herself out on him.
He laughed. 'What do you think?'
'It wouldn't surprise me one little bit.' A tremor ran through her as his hand brushed the bare skin of her back. His fingers were long, tanned, very strong and their gentle touch brought the memories flooding back again. She allowed her own hand to move lightly to his shoulder, surprised to feel the tensing of his muscles beneath the expensively-cut cloth of his jacket.
Looking up into his face, their eyes met, holding. His were narrowed, coolly mocking, giving nothing away.
'You dance very well,' she said, because she had to break the silent tension that was building up between them.
Jake smiled. 'So do you.'
Deborah felt herself flushing at something in his voice. Their bodies fitted together perfectly. She knew that, and she knew he was thinking the same. It had always been so. They moved now as one, hardly aware of the music that guided them, and there was something possessive in Jake's touch at her waist, at her spine. For the first time in three long lonely years, she felt herself falling under his spell again.
His closeness made her feel weak. She felt his strength, his potent male sexuality, and despite all her willpower, she felt herself responding.
'Relax,' Jake murmured, and she realised that she was holding herself tightly, her body rigid with concentration.
'I am relaxed,' she protested, keeping her eyes lowered. 'You're holding me too tightly, that's all. Please let me go.'
In answer, Jake's grip tightened in silence, his eyes suddenly as hard as ice. Forced against the hard disturbing length of his body, she felt herself trembling violently. The heavy muscles of his arms were like bands of steel, and although he was not hurting her, she was left in no doubt as to his immense strength, his dominance.
Jake felt the tremors shaking her body, and his fingers gently brushed the bare skin of her spine. Her skin was like warm silk, smooth and yielding. He felt the muscles tautening in his stomach.
He wanted her, God, how he wanted her. Nothing had changed, she was still in his blood, despite all that had happened, despite all the bitterness and the years that had separated them.
'I can't let you go,' he said harshly. 'You're wasting your breath asking me to.'
'We had an agreement,' Deborah said in a thin shaking voice. 'For Tess's benefit, remember?'
She could feel the coolness of his breath against her hair, the clean male scent of his skin, and a deep craving was running like fire through her veins. She wanted the touch of his mouth on hers again. She wanted his hunger, his possession. Nobody else had touched her, and she finally admitted that she wanted him. She wanted him with a dizzying aching urgency that made her heart ache.
'Sure, I remember.' His eyes were dark as he stared down into her face. Defeated by the familiar mockery she heard in his voice Deborah bent her head to the width of his shoulder.
I love him, she acknowledged painfully. I've been fooling nobody but myself. I've always loved him, in spite of Leila, in spite of everything. She couldn't deny this fever inside her. It was love. Pure simple love. And perhaps that was why she had been so desperate to keep him at a distance. Perhaps she had always known that if she came too close she wouldn't be able to pretend any more.
She still hated him for his affair with Leila, but she loved him too. Maybe it was true that the line between love and hatred was very, very thin.
Against the cloth of his jacket she said quietly, 'Why did you send me flowers?'
She felt him smile. 'Why not? Didn't you like them?' His voice was still edged with mockery and it hurt her. Beneath her cheek, she could hear the deep steady rhythm of his heart, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Her defeat seemed too much to bear.
'They're beautiful,' she replied in a flat toneless voice.
'You're beautiful—so beautiful tonight,' Jake muttered roughly, almost as though the words were dragged from him against his will.
Deborah lifted her head to look into his dark face, and her eyes were suddenly full of tears.
Jake swore softly. 'I didn't intend to see you again,' he said, and his eyes were violent, his voice very bitter.
Deborah froze. 'Let me go,' she demanded, moving restlessly in his arms, her tears changing to anger. 'Let me go, damn you!'
She felt unreasonably hurt by his words, shocked by the ferocity of the pain they inflicted on her. Her emotions were scraped raw by her own painful and humiliating admission that she still loved him.
'Deborah, for God's sake. ..' His voice was low, vibrant with anger.
'Let me go,' she repeated through clenched teeth, tearing herself from his arms and walking very quickly from the dance floor, from the room.
Her old familiarity with the place guided her steps to the large glass conservatory at the back of the house. Thankfully it was dark and empty giving her the solitude she needed. She had only taken two steps inside when she was spun round to face Jake. His hand moved casually, his fingers gripping her wrist, shackling her.
'Leave me alone!' she told him fiercely, struggling to free herself. It was impossible, and his fingers hurt, biting into her flesh, making her wince. She had not heard him behind her. He always.moved so silently, with the graceful menace of some huge cat.
'You're not running away again,' he said darkly, holding her still.
Deborah glared at him with wild bitter eyes. 'I'm going home now. I've had enough of this damned pretence.'
Jake smiled lazily, though his eyes were cold and dark. 'Really? You surprise me,' he drawled softly.
'I don't know what you mean.' She was frightened by the quiet menace in his voice, by the punishing grip that shackled her in this deserted conservatory.
'So sweet, so innocent. I could almost believe you— if I didn't know you better.' His contempt flayed her.
'You don't know me at all!' she hit out. 'And if you don't let me go, I'll scream.'
Jake laughed, derision glittering in his eyes. 'You'd better know that I have no intention of letting you go. You belong to me—you always have, you always will. And you can run and hide from that fact all you want, but it won't change a thing.'
Panic made Deborah struggle
to get away from him, but his hold tightened, and using his vastly superior strength, he lifted and turned her trapped hand. His eyes held hers in a long hard glance before he bent his black head, his mouth brushing her palm again and again.
Deborah shuddered, her heart pounding as she watched him. The touch of his mouth was setting her blood on fire, filling her with a desire so powerful, it made her gasp.
When Jake finally lifted his head, she quickly veiled her eyes, desperate to hide from him the way she felt, her love and her hate inextricably mixed.
Without releasing her, he reached out, his fingers touching her throat, resting lightly on the hurried pulse that beat beneath her pale skin. She did not move. She knew that her racing heart was giving her away and she needed to defend herself.
'You insult me,' she said quietly. 'And I hate you for that.'
Jake's mouth hardened, his eyes becoming curiously blank. 'You insult your own intelligence by denying what you feel. Did Stevens make you feel like this?' And when she turned her head away, he tilted it back, forcing her to meet the icy grey depths of his eyes. 'How was he in bed? Did he satisfy you? You were always so wild, so abandoned.'
Humiliated colour poured into Deborah's face and his words brought an anger so fierce that she flew at him, her nails ready to claw his face. 'You have no right to talk about Robert like that, and you have no right to talk about me,' she hissed. 'How dare you! How dare you!'
Jake caught her hands before they reached him, twisting them easily behind her back. 'You'd be surprised what I dare,' he said with a coolly mocking smile. Dredging up all her scattered reserves of courage, Deborah looked him straight in the eye. 'I doubt it,' she retorted evenly. 'There's nothing you could do that would surprise me. You always were a cold-hearted swine.'
'Another challenge, Deborah?' Jake's dark brows lifted.
'Don't touch me.' Her hard-found courage melted away before the soft menace in his voice. 'I couldn't stand it. I hate you.'
Jake pulled her closer, until their bodies were only inches apart. He stared down at her with narrowed eyes. 'Perhaps that would make it perfect,' he said, very softly. 'Hadn't you thought of. that?'
'Oh, I'd thought of it,' she managed through numb lips. 'You get your kicks from hurting people now, do you?'
She knew that she had angered him, that her insult had found its target. His grip tightened painfully, arching her even closer and she could feel the coolness of his breath against her skin.
'Don't make me angry, Deborah, because I think, I just might enjoy hurting you.'
'You've already proved that!' she shot back, trembling. 'I don't need another lesson, thank you.'
His mouth curved upwards. 'Your eyes tell me a different story, my love.' The murmured endearment held mockery. 'I want to know what Stevens taught you. I've waited a long time to find out.'
'Jake, please ...' She struggled against him, pleading suddenly.
'Oh, no, Deborah.' He lowered his dark head and found her mouth with his own, in a kiss that was deep and savage and punishing.
Deborah fought him, but she was powerless against his sheer strength. Then, suddenly, that didn't matter, because her body was yielding against his, long-denied and hidden emotions flooding through the careful barriers she had erected around her heart. Hadn't she ached for this moment for three long years? Hadn't she longed for the powerful sensual touch of his mouth?
She stopped struggling, her lips parting beneath the pressure of his. Jake felt her softness, her response and his mouth became gentle. He brushed her parted lips again with an aching tenderness, until she moaned, her arms coming up around his neck, her fingers tangling in his black hair to pull down his head.
The kiss deepened, raw need flaring between them, out of control. Jake's powerful arms held her arching body tightly, his hands slowly caressing her bare spine.
'Oh God,' he muttered into her throat, his breath coming unevenly. Their mouths fused in desperate passion, and Deborah was drowning, her body aching with desire.
Approaching footsteps on the old stones broke them apart. In the quiet conservatory, their glances held, locking. Deborah stared into the dark liquid depths of Jake's eyes and saw his hunger. She didn't even know where she was for a moment. Nothing else mattered except being here with him in this moment in time. She wanted him with a burning urgency that she had never known before and in his face, she saw that his own need equalled hers.
Leila's voice fell into the heavy silence. 'Jake, darling, I've been looking for you everywhere.' She moved towards them. 'And Deborah—Stevens. What a surprise.' She didn't bother to hide her malice.
The spell was broken, and Deborah felt as though she had been doused from head to foot in cold water.
She had forgotten all about Leila. In Jake's arms she had forgotten everything. Leila stood framed in the light from the doorway, dark and beautiful in red satin, her long legs bare. Deborah hadn't even known she was at the party.
'Excuse me.' Without even looking at Jake, she began to walk away. Terrible pain lanced through her as she realised what she had done. How could she have let him kiss her like that? How could she have forgotten Leila. His mistress . . .
With a pale, determined face, she found Oliver. 'I want to leave,' she told him, in a flat expressionless voice. 'I want to leave now.'
CHAPTER SIX
She couldn't sleep at all that night. She paced around the flat, her mind running round in circles, a core of aching desire still pulsing inside her.
Why had she gone to the party? Why? It might have saved her pride but that was no comfort to her now.
She could have made some excuse. She could have stayed in Corfu as planned, met Tess at some later date. She could have avoided that party so easily, and avoided meeting Jake again.
She traced the bruised line of her lips with her fingers, her heart constricting with pain. Oh God, she wanted him so much. She had been running for so long, she had forgotten that she would never stop loving him. It was the kind of love that came once in a lifetime, the kind of love that would never fade.
She made some coffee and forced herself to sit down. Questions plagued her. Was he still having an affair with Leila? Who was the woman in the yellow dress? From her own bitter experience she knew that one woman could not satisfy him. From what Tess had said, she knew how her own behaviour must have looked at the time of their parting. He assumed that she had been seeing Robert all the time. The fact that she and Robert had been married must have confirmed his suspicions. It served him right, she thought spitefully. He could think what he liked. She had no intention of seeing him again. Tonight had been a mistake she had no intention of repeating.
She finally fell asleep on the couch as dawn was breaking and she woke two hours later feeling terrible. The thought of driving up to Kendal filled her with unusual dismay. Cole had made the appointment for her as soon as he knew she was back from holiday, and there was no getting out of it. She had found refuge in her work before. Perhaps she could find it again.
Struggling up from the couch, massaging her aching muscles, she switched on the percolator before taking a hot shower. The water splashed over her, easing her tiredness, and she wondered for the millionth time how she could love a man who had been so flagrantly unfaithful to her. She halted her thoughts, not wanting to think about him and yet unable to stop.
She dressed while she drank her coffee, choosing a black, button-through, cashmere dress with a matching gaberdine coat and soft leather boots. It was chic and fashionable and very businesslike, which was what Cole expected when she was representing the company. She pulled her hair back into a neat chignon and made up her face, carefully hiding the tell-tale dark circles beneath her eyes.
Ready on time, she collected her briefcase, portfolio and handbag and left the flat. Oliver was in the hall as she went down, pulling the newspaper from the letterbox. 'You're early,' he remarked with a smile.
'I'm going to Kendal—remember? I told you last night.'
&nbs
p; 'Did you? I'm more interested in what you didn't tell me.' He shot her a long hard look and she knew he could see right through her careful make-up.
'What are you talking about?'
'Jake Logan,' Oliver said succinctly. 'It's far too early in the morning for games, dear stepsister.'
'I haven't got time.'
'Look, I left a perfectly good party just as it was hotting up, to drive you home—so I think you owe me an explanation.' His smile was sweet, softening his words.
'I'll tell you later,' she promised, knowing he was only concerned about her. 'But I really must go now. I don't want to be late, Cole would kill me.'
'The forecast is snow up north,' Oliver said, scanning the newspaper. Deborah didn't really care.
'Well, if I have to stay over, Cole will be footing the hotel bill. See you later.'
In the car she switched on the radio, but the music and bright chatter frayed her nerves, so she switched it off again and concentrated on her driving.
The motorway was fairly clear from the Midlands onwards, though the sky was heavy with snow. She arrived in Kendal with an hour to spare so she had coffee in a tiny tea house she found on the main road through the town.
Cole's prospective client lived in an enormous architect-designed house a few miles out of Kendal, and she drove through the gates with ten minutes to spare. The meeting went well, though it took all afternoon. Cole believed in the personal touch and because his time was so short, Deborah had gradually become one of his top sales executives, as well as a designer. She was beautiful and well groomed, and she knew what she was talking about, Cole had told her. She was the perfect advertisement for the company. It was true that being one of the designers she knew the business inside out. It was a challenge that she enjoyed, though these sales trips were comparatively rare.
The company, though based in Los Angeles, was breaking into the British market, and all prospective clients were given a personal visit. Cole would have come himself if he hadn't been tied up in meetings with the chairman of a chain of London shops.
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