Jassy could have hit him. 'I'm not stupid you know!' she said angrily.
'I never supposed you were,' Max said laconically, his eyes shuttered and bored.
Jassy stared at him; he was very convincing. 'You should have gone on the stage,' she said icily.
Max smiled, his lean face slashed with amusement. 'I don't know what the hell you're talking about,' he said gently, 'but you're beautiful when you're angry.'
Jassy bit back her furious retort, childishly stamping her bare foot as an outlet for her anger.
'You are incorrigible!' she spluttered, her face flushed, her eyes flashing fire.
'So they tell me,' Max said softly, laughing at her.
She turned away and began peeling the potatbes. There was no way she could get the better of him, she thought wearily, nearly slicing off the end of her finger in her frustration. She could feel his eyes on her, watching her every movement, then suddenly he was gone.
She relaxed weakly against the sink, breathless with relief. The vegetables were cooking and the pie in the oven was emitting a mouthwatering, savoury smell—everything was under control, and Jassy decided to shower and change.
She reached the kitchen door and collided with Max. He steadied her, his fingers painful on her shoulders, and it was then that she noticed the box in his hands. It was the dressing gown she had bought him. Her heart sank as she realised that she had left it on the dressing table when unpacking her clothes.
His eyes searched her face, darkening slightly as they rested on her vulnerable mouth.
'For me?' he asked quietly.
Jassy licked her lips nervously. He was standing so close to her that the clean male smell of him filled her head, making her dizzy. His hand still rested on her shoulder. She wanted to lie to him, but found, inexplicably, that she couldn't.
'Yes, it's for you,' she whispered, lifting her eyes to meet his with faint defiance, frightened that he would laugh at her. But his face, as usual, was totally inscrutable as he tore off the festive paper and opened the box. The black silk looked cool and fragile in his tanned hands, a potent combination.
He stared silently at the dressing gown, until Jassy was forced to ask,
'Do you like it?' She could have bitten out her tongue for revealing her eagerness to please him.
'Yes, thank you. I——' He seemed about to say something else, but stopped abruptly, leaning down to kiss her forehead, briefly, his mouth cool and un-emotional. 'You're a very thoughtful and generous lady,' he murmured against her hair.
'You're laughing at. me,' she accused very quietly, pulling away from him.
'No.' He caught her arm easily as she moved to get away. 'Not at you, Jassy, at myself maybe,' he said with harsh cynicism.
'I don't understand,' she said, meeting his eyes questioningly.
Max shrugged, drawing her eyes to the wide, tanned shoulders beneath his thin shirt.
'Perhaps it's better that you don't. It doesn't matter,' he said dismissively.
Still feeling rather hurt, Jassy moved past him, aware that the conversation was over. He did not detain her and she felt sad that he would not explain anything to her. She had so many unanswered questions.
She ran upstairs to the bathroom and took a quick shower, then after drying her hair and applying a light make-up, looked through her wardrobe for a dress to wear. She finally chose a white cotton dress with a wide flaring skirt, edged with lace. It had a tight camisole-style top, also trimmed with lace, and thin lace shoulder straps which held up the low-cut bodice. It suited her well, giving her pale skin a honeyed sheen. She slipped on her high-heeled sandals, and taking a last check in the mirror, left the room.
Max stood at the bottom of the stairs watching her as she descended, his narrowed eyes examining every inch of her. She tried to ignore the tightening in her stomach as she ran lightly and gracefully towards him. When she reached him, she smiled, unable to stop herself, her mouth a shining invitation.
'How do I look?' she asked, pirouetting in front of him, urged on by some devil inside herself that she could not control.
'Incredibly lovely—but you know that,' Max answered huskily, his eyes dark and stormy as they rested on her slim bare shoulders and the soft high swell of her breasts, clearly visible beneath the low-cut bodice.
'Do you desire me?' she asked softly, unable to believe her ears as she heard those words spilling unbidden from her lips.
'More than any other woman I've ever known,' Max replied in a harsh, tormented voice. Jassy was shaken by his intensity, and unaware of her own actions, she reached up and traced the firm line of his mouth.
He caught her hand, holding it to his lips as he lingeringly kissed the palm. His touch burned through her, weakening her resistance, as with one sure, fast movement, he found her mouth, kissing her with such urgent savagery that she broke up in his arms, melting against his taut body in submission, her small hands tangling in the darkness of his hair to pull him closer.
A second later she was free again as Max released her so suddenly that she almost fell.
'Max. . .?' She looked up at him, her mouth bruised and swollen from the brutality of his kiss.
He was very still, seemingly calm and controlled, his eyes closed. Jassy looked at the dark lashes against his hard-boned face with wonder.
'Forget it, Jassy,' he advised, his voice dangerously violent, his fists clenching at his sides. 'I have a promise to keep. Remember?'
CHAPTER NINE
JASSY sat in front of the dressing table mirror, carefully examining her face with dissatisfaction.
She had been at Oakdene for a month now, and nothing had changed. Since Max's cold rejection of her on that second day, she had avoided any physical contact with him, even though she lay alone in their huge bed every night aching for his strong arms, his mouth, but more than anything his love. It was tearing her apart, her need for him, and she was unsure how much longer she could stand it. She had lost weight, and her sleepless nights had painted bruised circles around her eyes—she looked a mess, she thought miserably.
It seemed to be affecting Max too, this terrible strain on them both. He too looked leaner, and often weary, his green eyes seemed glazed with dull brilliance. He was unfailingly polite, yet remote, and Jassy's only consolation was the way he looked at her sometimes.
She would catch him off guard every now and again, staring at her with hungry intensity, but his face would close, as hard as stone whenever their eyes met.
The whole situation was downright impossible, and any hopes she might have had that he would come to love her were wearing very thin, and yet she cherished the small things between them, clinging to the occasional warm smile, steadying arm or thoughtful gesture, as a lifeline.
She had lost her heart to Oakdene. It was her home now—apart from which, she had nowhere else to go. As he had promised, Max gave her complete control of the house, and he had also given her a car, a chocolate brown sports car, so that she would not be tied to the house.
He was so very kind and considerate. A week before, he had arrived back from London one evening, with the car full of packages. He had carried them inside, one by one—some of them were very large, smiling enigmatically at her impatient curiosity and refusing to answer her questions. When the last package was in the lounge he had said, 'Open them—they're for you.'
She had opened every one quickly, with excited hands, to find that he had bought her everything she needed to start painting again. Easels and canvas, paints and paper—everything.
She had flung her arms around him, uncaring of rejection, her eyes shining like stars, murmuring her thanks against his mouth. He had not put her away from him, as expected, but had kissed her, briefly and gently, a kiss that she remembered even now for its warmth.
After that, she had begun painting in earnest. Max encouraged her, honestly critical, not hiding his admiration for her talent. She painted the house and the garden, and at the moment was trying to pluck up the courage to ask him if he would sit f
or a portrait. She longed to paint him, the sharply defined bones of his face and his rare green eyes haunted the artist in her. She must ask him soon.
They had also been to Roxanne and Tomas' house for dinner. It had been a very enjoyable evening. Max had been charming and attentive, giving away no clue that their marriage was anything but perfect. Jassy had almost believed it herself.
Sighing, she began to apply her make-up, concentrating on her eyes, her mind as always on Max.
They seemed to be living in a state of suspended animation and she sensed that the situation would come to a head very soon. Either that, or they would both be driven insane.
There was a certain routine to their lives now. Max would spend the day in London, she would miss him all day and cook dinner for him on his return. On evenings when they had no social engagements, they would sit together, listening to music and talking. Jassy had learned a lot about him. He had told her about the toughness of life in New York, of the travelling he had done, of his business, and she would listen avidly, storing away everything he said, never forgetting anything. He seemed keen to open his life to her and let her get to know him, but even so the barriers between them remained. She slept alone every night, becoming used to hearing the chink of the crystal decanter as she climbed the stairs.
Sometimes Jassy was content just to live with him and see him every day. These were days when she did not care about his reasons for marrying her, it was enough that he let her share his life. On darker days, though, a slow fuse of resentment burned inside her. She wanted to scream at him, hit him, accuse him and beg him to make love to her, anything to crack that cool, distant facade.
As she applied mascara to her lashes, she allowed her mind to touch on her worst and most pressing problem. She was fairly sure that she was pregnant, and if she was. . . . Dear God, she thought desperately, it did not bear thinking about.
She had been sick for two mornings running now, and she could almost feel the changes inside her body, so earlier that afternoon she had made an appointment at the doctor's for the end of the week.
Once she knew for sure, she would have to make her plans for the future. Knowing that Max did not love her, it followed that he would not be pleased to learn that she was carrying his child. It would not be fair to burden him, therefore she would not tell him, she would go away. Where? How? Her mind buzzed with questions. The clock in front of her told her that she would have to get a move on, or she would not be ready in time.
She outlined her lips and coloured them with soft, rich colour. She had done her hair after bathing, it was looped in a rich shining coil at her nape, the style giving her an air of sophistication. Her dress had been bought by Max, a deep brown velvet sheath, that hugged her slender curves, accentuating the innocent brown of her eyes and lightening her hair to spun gold.
The mirror threw back her reflection and she hardly recognised herself. A slim, poised and incredibly alluring woman with wide, soft eyes and shining hair stared back at her. I don't feel like that at all, she thought wryly, as she stepped into her high-heeled shoes.
A polite tap on the door brought Max strolling into the room. He stared at her with narrowed, appraising eyes, while Jassy stood still, faint colour staining her cheeks. He was looking devastating in a formal black dinner jacket, immaculately tailored to the powerful contours of his body and slim-fitting black trousers. He seemed to fill the room with his aggressive, masculine presence, and the now-familiar weakness tightened Jassy's stomach, as she looked at him.
'You look beautiful,' he said in a voice devoid of expression. He held out a long, flat case. 'These are for you, they'll complement your dress.'
Jassy took the case from him with hands that only shook a little—she had almost learned how to mask the tremulous desire that he induced in her—and opened it, a small cry of delighted surprise escaping her at what lay beneath the lid. It was a fine gold necklace set with diamonds so pure that they seemed to glow with inner fire, the box also containing matching earrings.
She looked up at Max, catching once again in his eyes that fierce hungry look that seemed to set her whole body alight. 'Thank you—they're quite lovely. I think I'll be scared to wear them almost. . . .' she said quietly.
'Why?' He was looking at her with a faint smile on his dark face.
'In case I lose them, they're so delicate.'
'If you do lose them, I'll buy you some more—it doesn't matter,' he replied carelessly.
Jassy frowned. She had not meant him to take her remark that way. She had considered the jewellery a present, but Max made it clear that as far as he was concerned it was merely a pretty investment, and for some reason that hurt. She took the necklace listlessly out of the case, her spirits swooping downwards.
'What's the matter?' Max questioned patiently, taking the shining necklace from her unresisting fingers, his eyes keen and perceptive on her suddenly-sad face.
She shook her head, striving to appear normal. 'Nothing, really.' But the tremor in her voice gave her away.
Max slipped the necklace into his pocket and cupped her face in his strong gentle hands, his fingers absently stroking the soft skin of her cheeks. 'I know you, Jassy, I can read you like a book. There's something wrong and I want to know what it is,' he said firmly, raking her small face with piercing eyes.
Tired of lying, Jassy decided to tell him the truth. It was about time they had a bit of honesty between them, and just at that moment she did not care about the consequences.
'I thought you meant the necklace and the earrings as a present, that's all,' she said carefully.
He looked at her blankly for a moment. 'Would you want me to give you such presents?' he asked curtly.
Jassy turned her face away in silence.
'Well?' he prompted coolly when she did not answer.
'I don't know—probably not,' she lied, meeting his eyes defiantly.
'There's no problem, then, is there?' he muttered coldly, his hard face closing—an expression she was well used to.
'I suppose not,'Jassy snapped, tired of all the bickering, her voice becoming perilously high. 'You're always so damned cold,' she added spitefully.
'That's how you wanted it, if you remember,' Max bit back harshly. He had released her face and now he turned away from her, his eyes distant as he gazed out of the window. 'Can I take it you've changed your mind?'
The bitter mockery in his deep American drawl sparked anger inside Jassy. She was certain that he knew perfectly well how she felt about him, even though she had desperately tried to hide it. He was too intelligent, too perceptive not to have guessed. So what did he want? An admission of love? She stared blackly at his tall, still body, at the proud thrust of his dark head.
'I'll never change my mind about you,' she hissed at him, regretting such harsh words even as she uttered them. Max shrugged, his broad shoulders lifting expressively. 'Why are you so worked up, then?' he asked silkily and so cleverly.
Jassy's whole body slumped. Why indeed? 'You seem to bring out the worst in me,' she said quietly.
Max sighed, heavily, as if he too was tired, very tired.
'I know,' he conceded, his voice terribly weary. 'And the reverse is also true. Without trying, you can spark off some dark violence inside me—it's crazy!' He paused, coming to rest his hands on her shoulders. 'Jassy, we'll have to talk—soon. This
thing ' he raised his hands gracefully in an all-encompassing gesture, 'it's destroying both of us. Day after day, night after night—Goddammit, it can't go on!'
She saw the torment in the depths of his green eyes. Would he tell her to go? Perhaps he had realised that the shares in her stepfather's company were not worth the two years of hell that living with a woman he did not love and could not touch would cost him.
She was suddenly frightened. If she did have to leave Max and Oakdene, she would lose everything.
'We're going to be late,' she said shakily, completely changing the subject, pretending that he had not spoken.
Max noted the panic widening her eyes with a twisting of his mouth, as he glanced at the watch on his brown wrist.
'You're right. If you're ready, we'll go now,' he said politely, a cold, distant stranger again. He did not wait for her, but left the bedroom immediately.
Jassy grabbed her fur wrap with tears misting her eyes, then ran downstairs, after putting on the diamond earrings from the case Max had given her. She could hardly see through the watery mist in front of her. Max was in the lounge, smoking idly, as he waited for her. 'Max, the necklace .'. . you still have it in your pocket. . . . I'd like to wear it,' she said in a high and unnatural voice.
He raised his dark brows but did not comment as he reached into his pocket for it. Jassy stared at his strong sensitive hands, desire gripping her so fiercely that she had to bite her lips savagely, hoping that pain would release her from the fever that held her. 'Turn around, I'll fasten it for you.'
He seemed not to have noticed and she did as she was told. His fingers were cool, brushing the heated sensitive nape of her neck as he fastened the gold necklace, and even though she knew how casual his touch was, it shuddered through her.
Max felt her response, unable to help himself as he slid his arms around her narrow waist and pulled .her back against him, his mouth warm on her neck. Jassy swayed helplessly against him, melting into his arms.
'I want you, Jass—dear God, how I want you,' he muttered urgently against her ear. 'I've tried, but I can't keep away from you.' He drew a long shaking breath, his hands moving restlessly up her body to cup her breasts with possessive fingers. Jassy moaned softly, arching her body to his hands. She knew how he felt, and he was right, it was destroying them both.
'Max, I. . . .' she began huskily, but he stopped her short, releasing her suddenly, as if certain of what she had been about to say, as if certain she had been about to reject him.
He took her hand. 'Let's go,' he said tightly.
They chatted lightly as Max drove towards London, the tension still between them. Then suddenly he dropped a bombshell.
Wipe Away the Tears Page 14