by Anne Mather
‘Everything in moderation,’ murmured Matt teasingly, and Amalie gave her a sulky look.
‘You should relax a little, Rachel,’ she said, draining the dregs of her cocktail with a careless flourish. ‘And don’t let my brother fool you. He’s not half as innocent as he seems.’
‘Amalie!’
It was her father who spoke now, and the girl had the grace to colour slightly. ‘Well,’ she said defensively. ‘We all know why he had to invite her here.’
‘I invited her,’ said Jacob coldly. ‘And if you can’t keep a civil tongue in your head, young lady, you can spend the rest of the evening in your room.’
A sudden tap on the door was never more welcome, as far as Rachel was concerned. She had felt Matt tense beside her, and knew it was only a matter of time before he entered the exchange.
But Caleb’s appearance diverted all of them. ‘Dinner’s ready when you are, Mr Jacob,’ he said politely, and Matt’s father pushed himself determinedly to his feet.
‘Not a moment too soon,’ he said, giving his daughter a final warning glance. He held out a hand to Rachel. ‘Will you give me your arm, my dear?’
‘Of course.’
With a nervous look in Matt’s direction, Rachel joined his father for the procession into the dining room. And she saw at once something she hadn’t noticed earlier: only one end of the impressive table had been laid for dinner.
With Matt’s assistance, Jacob was seated at the head of the table, with Diana and Rachel on one side and Matt and Amalie on the other. Rachel found herself talking mainly to Diana, the width of the table precluding any private conversation with Matt.
The meal was delicious, but Rachel ate very little. A lobster soufflé that melted in the mouth was followed by freshly caught grouper, a fish Rachel had never tasted before. Then the tenderest of fillet steaks with ‘rice and peas’, which was really rice and red kidney beans, and a mix of exotic vegetables.
By the time dessert came around Rachel had to refuse. Although she’d only picked at her food, she knew she couldn’t eat another thing. She was sure the passionfruit mousse was delectable, as Diana said, but all she wanted was coffee to finish the meal.
She noticed Matt hadn’t shown much of an appetite either. He spoke often with his father, and she guessed they were talking business again. She encountered Amalie’s eyes a time or two, quite by accident on her part, though probably not so on the girl’s. That comment about Matt not being as innocent as he appeared still stuck in her mind.
‘It’s the only chance Jacob gets to find out what’s going on in his absence,’ murmured Diana in a low voice. ‘He knows Matt is perfectly capable of running the company, but I’m afraid my husband is something of a work junkie.’
So Diana was Jacob’s wife. ‘Have you been married long?’
‘Heavens, yes.’ Diana spoke reminiscently. ‘It’s going to be thirty-five years in July. I can hardly believe it.’ She grimaced. ‘That’s probably why Jacob used to spend so much time out of the house.’
Rachel smiled. ‘My father’s like that,’ she said, feeling a renewed sense of guilt that she hadn’t kept Ralph Claiborne informed of what she’d discovered. ‘He enjoys his work, too.’
‘What does he do?’ asked Diana politely.
‘Oh, he’s an accountant,’ replied Rachel, aware that Matt was also listening to their exchange. ‘He was going to retire last year, but he changed his mind.’ She paused then, and met Matt’s considering gaze with one of her own. ‘I think he wishes he had now.’
‘Really? Why?’
Diana was interested, but Rachel was wishing she hadn’t mentioned her father at all.
‘Oh—just events,’ she said offhandedly, accepting another cup of coffee from the maid who’d served their dinner. ‘Thank you. This is delicious.’
‘It’s our own blend, you know.’ To her relief, Jacob had heard what she’d said and now chose to enter their conversation. ‘We cultivate it here at Jaracoba. Not an enormous amount, you understand, but enough for our own needs and the needs of most of the islanders.’
‘Well, it’s certainly good,’ said Rachel admiringly. ‘I’m ashamed to say I usually use instant at home.’
‘Do you live with your parents?’ asked Diana, and Rachel shook her head.
‘No. I have a small apartment of my own.’
‘Of your own?’ Matt took her up on it. ‘No partner?’
‘No partner,’ she said firmly, aware that she was blushing again. But, heavens, did he think she’d have allowed him to—well—touch her, if she’d been involved with someone else?
But perhaps he wasn’t so discriminating…
The sound of a car racing up the drive carried on the still night air. An engine was revving far too noisily, tyres squealing, brakes screaming, as the vehicle was brought to a halt.
‘What the devil—?’ began Jacob irritably, half rising to his feet and then sinking back again when the door half opened and Caleb inserted his head into the space he’d created.
‘You’ve got a visitor,’ he was beginning, somewhat nervously, when the door was thrust open. Sara Claiborne, was just behind him, glaring over his shoulder, her eyes accusing as they swept round the table.
Rachel wanted to die. She felt sure her mother must have followed her here. Had she gone to the hotel and discovered her daughter had left with Matt Brody? Might they even have told her he was taking her to his home?
Whatever, surely Sara hadn’t gone to the hotel dressed like that? Her scarlet catsuit clung to her generous curves; her stiletto heels were digging into the carpet.
She looked like a caricature of the woman Rachel had known all her life, and she couldn’t understand what was going on.
‘What do you want, Sara?’
It was Matt who spoke, pushing back his chair and regarding the visitor with a guarded gaze.
And Rachel realised she’d been wrong. Her mother hadn’t come here to find her. It was Matt she wanted to see. Matt who, in spite of his obvious reluctance, brought a possessive smile to her face.
But then, as if remembering, her eyes moved back to Rachel again.
‘What’s she doing here?’ she demanded, as if she had the right to do so. But now Jacob had had enough.
‘I invited her,’ he said. ‘This is my home, and I’ll invite who I like. I suggest you stop embarrassing yourself and Matt, Sara, and go back to Mango Key.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MATT drove Rachel back some thirty minutes later.
He was silent on the journey, and she couldn’t exactly blame him. It must have been embarrassing, having the two women he was involved with in the room together. It had been embarrassing for her, goodness knew. And she’d done nothing wrong.
Yet.
But she refused to think about almost making love with Matt the evening before. She had to pretend that it had never happened. And, let’s face it, she reminded herself, nothing had happened.
Yet.
She shook her head, as if by doing so she could shake such thoughts away. But it wasn’t easy. She was remembering that despite Jacob’s words Sara hadn’t agreed to leave until she’d had a private conversation with Matt. He’d escorted her out to her car, and in his absence conversation had stalled. Sara’s arrival had disturbed all of them, and only Amalie had seemed to be enjoying the situation.
The return journey seemed to be over far too quickly. In spite of what had happened Rachel was sorry the evening had had to end like this. She’d been so full of anticipation at its start. But perhaps this was payback for thinking of no one but herself.
For once, Matt turned into the hotel forecourt. And instead of dropping her off at the entrance, as she’d expected, he parked the vehicle and got out. He’d circled th
e car and pulled open her door, too, before she’d had time to anticipate his actions. Then, helping her out, he said flatly, ‘We need to talk.’
In spite of what she’d been thinking, Rachel knew that wasn’t going to happen. Not tonight, anyway. Not while she was still distressed over what her mother had said.
‘I—don’t think so,’ she said, turning towards the hotel entrance, but Matt’s hand gripped her biceps.
‘I do,’ he said grimly. ‘Come on. We’ll go up to my suite.’
‘Your suite?’
Rachel turned shocked eyes in his direction, and Matt gave her a weary look. ‘You think I don’t keep a suite of rooms at the hotel, just in case I need them?’ he enquired drily. ‘Sometimes it’s not convenient to drive back to my house.’
Rachel shook her head. ‘Even so…’
‘Even so, nothing,’ he said, turning her towards the entrance again. ‘Come on. I’ll buy you a drink before we go upstairs.’
‘I—I don’t want a drink,’ stammered Rachel, even though the kick of alcohol might have been exactly what she needed.
‘Not downstairs?’ Matt chose to misunderstand her. ‘Okay. I’ll get one of the staff to bring a bottle to my rooms.’
‘You don’t understand—’
‘No. You don’t understand,’ Matt interrupted her shortly, as they crossed the lobby. ‘Wait here. I’ll just speak to the barman about a bottle of wine.’
Rachel was almost to the top of the stairs when he caught up with her. She’d tried to hurry, but in her high heels it hadn’t been easy. Matt was able to vault up two stairs at a time, and she had to concede there was no way she could get away from him in the hotel anyway.
When she would have turned towards her room, however, he stopped her. ‘It’s this way,’ he said, and to her amazement, he directed her towards the double panelled doors which she knew led into the office. Of course the office would be empty at this time of day, but all the same…
Deciding she could hardly question his decision without provoking his curiosity, she shook herself free of his hand and walked beside him along the gallery. She realised they were in full view of anyone looking up from the foyer below, but she resigned herself to the knowledge that that was par for the course.
As expected, the office was deserted. Only dim security lighting illuminated desks and filing cabinets, the fax and printing machines she’d seen a few days ago. Surely Matt didn’t intend that they should have a conversation here? He had mentioned a suite of rooms.
Matt closed the door behind them and then led the way across the room to where another door gave access to a narrow corridor. He switched on overhead lights and motioned for her to follow him. He then opened a door a few yards further on, and indicated that she should precede him into the room.
A switch at the door caused several lamps to spring to life, and Rachel saw at once that it was a small sitting room. Well, small by Jaracoba standards, she thought, her mind still filled with the magnificent dimensions of his home.
Twin leather sofas faced one another across a gleaming occasional table, their black surfaces highlighted by cushions in red and gold. There was a sound system and a large television; undrawn curtains hung at three long windows, matching the cushions in design.
Rachel was surprised by the beauty of the room. It was such an unexpected find beyond the commercial environs of the office. There were other doors that evidently gave access to a bathroom and a bedroom. Maybe even a kitchen, although she doubted Matt would bother making meals here.
Matt closed the door behind them and then leaned back against it. ‘Sit down,’ he said. ‘The wine will arrive shortly.’
‘I don’t mind standing,’ Rachel said, wandering across to the windows. But there was little to see beyond the panes but the floodlit grounds of the hotel.
Matt shrugged, and moments later there was a tentative knock at the door. He swung it open, then took the tray from the waiter with little ceremony, closing the door in the man’s face with what Rachel recognised as barely controlled impatience.
It was only as he set the tray on the low table that she saw he’d ordered champagne. A bottle of Krug sat beside two crystal glasses, and, although she knew little about such things, she guessed only the best would do for him.
When he straightened again, and looked directly at her, Rachel shifted uneasily. His eyes were dark with anger and there was little compassion in his gaze.
‘Come and sit down,’ he said, and this time it sounded like an order. ‘I have no intention of discussing anything with you hovering over there like Marley’s ghost.’
Rachel squared her shoulders. ‘Do we have anything to discuss?’
Matt’s mouth twisted, and she saw the pulse beating at his temple. Oh, he was angry all right, she thought apprehensively. No wonder she was feeling so alarmed.
He blew out a breath, and for a moment she wondered if he intended to force her to obey him. But she should have known better. Instead, he bent and lifted the champagne, expertly easing out the cork and pouring himself a glass.
She was sure he drank it without tasting it. Which seemed his intention. He poured himself another and then looked at her again. ‘You know,’ he said, ‘I can stay here all night if necessary.’
Rachel sighed. She was half wishing now that she’d not created this stand-off. He was right. It was silly. And counter-productive.
‘All right,’ she said, and with a little shrug she stepped nervously towards him. ‘I know you can always out-do me when it comes to an argument.’ She paused beside one of the sofas, her nails digging into the soft leather. ‘What did you want to talk about?’
Matt closed his eyes for a moment, as if he didn’t quite believe her. Then, opening them again, he swallowed half the liquid in his glass before setting it back on the tray.
‘Sit down,’ he said, pointing to the sofa opposite him. ‘Or do you want me to think you’re scared of me? Believe me, you should be.’
Rachel remained where she was. ‘Why don’t you just tell me why you’ve brought me here?’ she demanded. ‘I assume you’re feeling peeved about what happened. Well, don’t think you can take your frustration out on me…’
‘My frustration? My frustration?’ The oath he uttered didn’t bear repeating. ‘You don’t know anything about my frustration! If you did, you wouldn’t stand there baiting me with stupid complaints.’
‘You don’t think I have room to complain?’ she exclaimed, using anger to mask her apprehension. ‘How do you think I felt when my mother walked into the room tonight?’
‘How do I think you felt?’ Matt was incredulous. ‘How do you think I felt? My father can do without that kind of stress in his present condition.’
Rachel shook her head. ‘I didn’t invite her.’
Matt swore again. ‘Do you think I did?’
‘I don’t know, do I?’ she mumbled. ‘Are you having an affair with her?’
‘God, no.’ He sounded appalled.
‘But she came here to see you.’
Matt sighed then. ‘That doesn’t mean I’m having an affair with her, Rachel. Our relationship is nothing like that.’
Rachel wanted to ask what it was like, but she felt she’d gone as far as she could tonight. ‘Anyway,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t matter now. I’m tired. I want to go to bed.’
Matt stared at her, his green eyes as dark as laurel. His look was intent, dangerous, and despite everything Rachel couldn’t look away.
‘I want to go to bed, too,’ he said, and now he moved, closing the space between them. His warm breath fanned her cheek and his quickened breathing matched her own.
Rachel would have backed away again, but his hand at her nape prevented her from moving at all.
‘I want to go to bed with
you,’ he added, bending to brush the corner of her mouth with his lips. ‘I want to make love with you and sleep with you and then make love with you again.’
Rachel’s breath caught in the back of her throat. This was so much more than she had expected. He was so close she could feel the heat of his body enveloping her; so close she was suddenly aware of the pulse beating at the centre of her core.
Warm wet fluid drenched her panties and her limbs went totally weak. ‘Matt—’
She tried to make a protest, but the truth was she didn’t really want to stop him. She’d never felt a need like this before, never experienced such a craving that yearned to be fulfilled.
He moved even closer, taking the evening bag she was holding like a barrier in front of her and tossing it aside. Then he slipped an arm about her waist and pulled her against him, her breasts crushed against his chest, her hips against the hard muscles of his thighs.
‘Sweet,’ he said, his voice thickening with emotion, pushing a thigh between her quivering legs. ‘Do you have any idea how much I want you?’
Then his mouth was on hers, hard and passionate. His tongue plunged between her teeth, exploring the moist cavity he found within. His tongue caressed hers, mated with hers, causing her to lean against him. And she heard his growl of appreciation when she allowed him to suck her tongue into his mouth.
She couldn’t fail to be aware of his arousal, and her hands sought the waistband of his khakis for support. His hand cupped her chin, angled her face to please him, lengthening and deepening his kiss.
His free hand slid over her scalp. She felt the knot she’d made of her hair unravel, felt the weight of it loose about her shoulders.
‘So beautiful,’ he said, allowing the silky strands to slide through his fingers. Then he lowered his head and buried his face in its soft folds.
Blood was thundering through Rachel’s veins like liquid fire. The increasing pressure of his erection against her stomach made her feel weak. He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, and looked down at her with undisguised hunger.