She gave him a startled look. She wanted to be kissed; making love was something else entirely!
But as Jonathan's mouth possessively claimed hers there was no time to protest. And as the kiss deepened with passion she found she didn't want to protest, her arms moving up over his shoulders as he moulded her body against the hardness of his.
A side lamp had been left on to illuminate the room while they were out, but the shadows it cast only added to the intimacy of the situation, Jonathan settling them both on the length of the sofa, his gaze deeply golden as he looked down into Gaye's face.
'Beautiful,' he said gruffly, before his head lowered and his lips once more claimed hers.
Gaye felt her senses soar, lost in the warmth and totally male smell of him, his shoulders and back so firm to her touch, one of his legs lying across both of hers. She almost felt like a part of him. Almost. . .
His lips were against her throat now, the top of her breasts revealed by the low neckline of her dress, his hands restlessly caressing her hips and thighs. As if he didn't think they were close enough either!
Jonathan shrugged out of his jacket, murmuring softly as his lips sought and found the creaminess of her breasts, fingers lightly caressing one already hardened tip, the pleasure of that touch filling Gaye with a heady warmth.
But she still wanted more, so much more, and she knew by the hard contours of Jonathan's body that he felt that same need.
She arched back in pleasure as the warmth of his mouth claimed the rosy tip of her breast, his tongue weaving a magic all of its own as he ran its moistness over that hardened nub.
Gaye felt warm, hot, on fire, her thighs moving restlessly against his, wanting—wanting—
'Gaye, I want you!' Jonathan groaned as he laid his head on the nakedness of her breasts. 'But your mother and Ben could return at any moment—'
'I forgot. . .!' she groaned. She had forgotten everything but Jonathan these last few minutes, and even now, as she looked at him in the semi-darkness, she liked the feel of his head against her breasts, his hair soft and silky, his breath warm against her skin, his hands sensitive as he lightly caressed her arm. 'We can't let them find us like this,' she agreed unsteadily, unable to hide her own regret at the inappropriateness of where they were.
Jonathan gave a shuddering sigh as he moved away from her, turning away to sit up beside where she still lay, his face buried briefly in his hands.
Gaye appreciated those few moments to collect her scattered wits together. And also to put her dress back in place! Somewhere during their lovemaking Jonathan had pulled the zip down at its back, enabling him to push the material out of the way of his questing hands and lips.
He turned as Gaye was struggling to pull up the zip. 'Here, let me.' He turned her slightly, easily pulling the fastener back into place. 'There.' He gently smoothed back her tangled hair. 'Now no one need ever know.'
Gaye knew. . . And she didn't think she would ever forget, could still feel the caress of his hands, that velvet tongue as he—
'No,' she agreed softly, swinging her legs down onto the floor. And just in time, it seemed, as she heard the front door open and her mother laugh at something Ben had just said to her.
As the older couple seemed to take an age to come through to the lounge, Gaye had the sinking feeling that the remark had something to do with Jonathan and herself. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as she realised her mother and Ben had probably guessed exactly what they were interrupting! Was her attraction towards Jonathan that obvious?
She stood up abruptly, moving away from where Jonathan still sat on the sofa, pulling his jacket back on now, although his movements were unhurried. Gaye couldn't even look at him, her cheeks pale now.
Jonathan stood up too as the older couple came into the room. 'Just in time,' he told them smoothly, the grimness of his expression not reflected in the lightness of his tone. 'I was just about to leave.'
That was certainly news to Gaye; until a few minutes ago he had given every impression that he wanted to stay. For the night, at least!
Ben looked at the younger man knowingly. 'Marilyn was just about to make some coffee,' he said slowly.
'Not for me, I'm afraid.' Jonathan smiled to take the sting out of his refusal.
At least, he smiled at Gaye's mother. . . He seemed to be avoiding looking at Gaye as much as she was avoiding looking at him!
'I have an early appointment tomorrow,' he continued, 'so I have to be bright and alert in the morning. No, don't bother to see me to the door, Gaye,' he said as she moved to do just that. 'I can see myself out. Thank you all for an enjoyable evening,' he added politely.
But it was only a politeness; he was already on his way out of the door as he said it. As if he couldn't wait to get away. . .
And he went, without even telling Gaye when—or indeed if—he would be seeing her again!
CHAPTER TWELVE
Jonathan was running scared, and he knew it.
And it was all Ben's fault, damn him!
He had felt he'd recovered quite well from arriving at Gaye's to find those flowers from Richard Craven in the hallway, although his relief had been immense when he had realised they had been sent to Marilyn and not Gaye, and that Richard had apparently decided not to direct Marilyn in his play. Yes, he had recovered well, had been able to talk quite normally to Gaye in the car on the way to the restaurant, the meal itself progressing very successfully—until Ben had made an announcement that had so totally thrown him, he had felt as if someone had punched him in the chest!
The two ladies had just disappeared to the powder room before they all had coffee, when Ben had turned to him and calmly told him to get out his morning suit—because once Marilyn was able to cope with the idea he intended marrying her!
The look that had accompanied the statement was clearly meant to remind Jonathan of his earlier claim of being as likely to marry Gaye as Ben was to marry Marilyn. . .! It had been obvious from the seriousness of his expression that Ben had really meant what he had said!
Jonathan had known Ben for years, had continued his friendship with him after Sam's death, and he had never seen the other man seriously interested in any woman, Ben having been soured against the marital state by the failure of his previous marriage. But Jonathan didn't doubt that he meant what he said about marrying Marilyn. . .
Somehow Jonathan felt as if people he had thought he knew—first Jarrett had fallen in love with Abbie, and now Ben had fallen for Marilyn—were no longer who or what he had thought they were. In all honesty, he was worried the same thing might happen to him. Worried. And then upset. And, he admitted with self-reproach, downright angry. He had taken Gaye home and made love to her in that frame of mind!
He could never remember feeling like this in his life before, was almost ashamed of his own actions, but at the same time having no intention of apologising for them. Because if he apologised he would have to explain why—and that was definitely something he didn't want to do!
If only he didn't feel constantly haunted by a pair of hurt green eyes. . .
'Is it safe to come in?' Jarrett paused next to the office door he had just opened without knocking. 'Only Trish tells me you're a little—on edge today.' He strolled into the room without invitation, closing the door behind him.
Trish had been Jonathan's secretary for the last ten years; aged in her mid-fifties, she tended to mother him—and Jonathan very much doubted she had used the words 'on edge' to describe his mood lately!
'Why aren't you at home with your wife and son?' Jonathan returned irritably; Jarrett had barely been to the office at all since Conor's birth just over a week ago.
'Yep.' Jarrett gave a satisfied nod as he gave Jonathan a considering look. 'On edge.'
'I am not—' Jonathan broke off, drawing in a deeply controlling breath. 'How's the family?'
His older brother sat on the side of his desk, golden gaze thoughtful. 'Why don't you come for dinner this evening and see for yoursel
f?'
'Abbie has enough to do without entertaining me,' Jonathan replied dismissively.
Jarrett's mouth twisted. 'I have no intention of Abbie 'entertaining' you,' he drawled mockingly. 'But she did mention at breakfast this morning that we haven't seen much of you the last few days.'
Jonathan wasn't fooled for a moment by the casual-ness of the remark, fingers tightly gripping the pen he had been writing with—or, at least, trying to write with; he didn't seem able to concentrate recently. 'I've been busy,' he bit out tautly.
Jarrett nodded. 'I can imagine,' he said. 'Abbie suggested you bring Gaye along to dinner this evening—'
"Then I suggest Abbie asks her—and leaves me out of it!' Jonathan stood up restlessly, turning to look out of his window at the London rooftops. 'Gaye's a big girl; I'm sure she's quite capable of bringing herself to dinner.' By bus, or taxi, because she couldn't drive herself there, and he had no intention of teaching her to drive any more, either. . .
'Have the two of you argued?'
Jonathan rounded on Jarrett. 'No, we damn well haven't—' Again he drew in a deeply controlling breath, avoiding meeting Jarrett's searching gaze. His older brother was far too astute for anyone's good. . . But the last thing he wanted was for Gaye and himself to be considered a couple. He was a free agent—and intended remaining that way! 'I have been helping Gaye with a personal—damn it, you know what I've been helping her with!' he rasped. 'But Ben now has that situation under control.' To such an extent, he intended marrying his patient!
Jarrett quirked his brows. 'And you?'
He didn't have anything under control; that was his problem! 'Ben doesn't need my help any more,' he shrugged.
'What about Gaye?' Jarrett prompted softly.
'Damn it—what about her?' he exploded impatiently, moving forcefully. 'I've taken an interest in a woman before—'
'Dozens of them,' his brother conceded.
'Exactly,' Jonathan snapped. 'I don't remember any of these matchmaking tactics with them.' He glared fiercely.
Jarrett looked amused. 'We didn't meet most of them, and the few that we did—!'
Jonathan could feel himself becoming flushed with annoyance. 'They weren't that bad, damn it,' he barked. 'I met Gaye, I liked her, she had a problem, I've done what I can to help resolve that problem; there's no reason for me to see her again.'
Except that he had missed her the last couple of days, missed her beauty, that quiet charm, the tinkling sound of her laughter. . .
'Does there have to be a reason?' Jarrett asked quietly, watching him with narrowed eyes.
Jonathan gave a heavy sigh. 'I don't want to get involved, Jarrett—'
'You're already involved, Jonathan,' his brother put in gently.
He gave a firm shake of his head. 'I've made myself uninvolved. And I'm going to stay that way,' he added grimly. 'Thank Abbie for the dinner invitation, but I already have a date this evening.' With the female friend he should have met earlier in the week. Sarah was a model, beautiful, independent, with no interest in a permanent relationship. An evening spent in her effervescent company—better yet, a night in her bed—and he would have forgotten all about Gaye Royal. He hoped.
Jarrett stood up to leave. 'Abbie is going to be disappointed.'
'I'll come round tomorrow to make up for it!' 'Make sure that you do.'
Jonathan moved back to sit behind his desk once Jarrett had gone from his office. Much as he loved Abbie, and Jarrett, and, of course, the two children, he was not in the mood to play happy families at the moment! Jarrett might be happily married, but as all the brothers knew only too well not all marriages were like his—in fact most of them weren't. Their parents certainly hadn't been. Jarrett had just been lucky. Besides, Jonathan had no inclination to settle down in a relationship with one woman.
Even if she did have haunting green eyes. . .
Maybe if Gaye herself had been different, then the whole situation would have been different too. But from what Richard Craven had implied about his own relationship with Gaye Jonathan had a feeling they hadn't had a physical relationship. And if she hadn't had a physical relationship with the man she'd intended marrying. . .! He had been elated about that at first, but now it scared the hell out of him. Gaye was a woman who would settle for nothing less than marriage.
She wasn't for him!
Sarah was much more his type. . .
What a disastrous evening!
Mainly his own fault, Jonathan had to admit. Sarah had been her usually bubbly self, had a party for the two of them to go to. Ordinarily Jonathan would have enjoyed the party, knowing a lot of Sarah's friends already, all of them intent on having a good time. Jonathan had felt like the only teetotaller in a wine-tasting evening— totally alone, and slightly removed from the whole thing!
Sarah had been quick to notice his lack of enthusiasm for their surroundings, suggesting the two of them leave after only being there an hour. But Jonathan had felt that was unfair on Sarah; she worked hard, but she liked to play hard too, and he'd known he was the one putting a dampener on her evening.
With apologies for being a party-pooper, he'd made his excuses and left. Alone. Insisting that Sarah stay and enjoy herself.
Because he hadn't wanted her to leave with him. He hadn't wanted to spend the night with her, either. Even though he knew it would have been a night of uncomplicated fun.
But it would have been with Sarah.
And that wouldn't have been fair to her.
Because it wasn't Sarah his body ached for.
What a disaster. Ten o'clock in the evening, having been out on a hot date with one of his favourite women, and the only place he could think of to go was his brother's house. Because he didn't want to go back to his own home. And he didn't want to go anywhere else, either.
He was thirty-seven years old, single, tolerably good-looking, very wealthy—and the only people he could think of to spend his time with were his older brother and his wife! His life was falling apart. And he knew exactly who was responsible for it!
He wasn't going to think about her. Refused even to let her image creep into his head.
Which made it doubly difficult to maintain his composure when he walked into Jarrett and Abbie's sitting room a few minutes later, and found Gaye sitting comfortably ensconced in one of the armchairs, Conor cradled snugly in her arms!
As usual, she looked gorgeous! Her hair glowed golden as it lay draped across her shoulders, her eyes were a luminous green, and she had been laughing happily at something Abbie said to her as he walked into the room, giving her a girlish look.
Although, as she turned and saw him standing in the doorway, a guarded expression came over her face.
Which annoyed Jonathan intensely. 'Not interrupting anything, am I?' he snapped harshly.
'Only changing Conor's nappy,' Abbie told him as she stood up gingerly to kiss him lightly on his cheek in greeting, obviously still slightly sore from her operation. 'Unless you would like to do it for me?' she teased as Gaye joined them at the door, a sleeping Conor still cradled in her arms.
'Pass,' Jonathan told her with feeling, looking at Gaye now. 'How are you?' he prompted gruffly.
'Fine, thank you,' she responded. 'My mother is out with Ben again this evening.'
Damn it, she looked fine too—which was more than he looked or felt! 'That's nice,' he acknowledged tighdy; Ben really was waging a campaign on Marilyn!
'That's nice?' Jarrett echoed once the two women had left the room. 'As you can see, Abbie took your advice and invited Gaye over to dinner. Whisky?' he enquired, giving Jonathan no chance to make any comment.
'Thanks,' Jonathan accepted. 'And, as I can see, Gaye accepted,' he bit out tautly, still shaken at finding Gaye here in the midst of his family.
'Actually, no.' His brother handed him the glass of whisky. 'She said she couldn't make dinner, either, but she accepted Abbie's suggestion that she pop in and say hello to the baby.'
Why couldn't she make dinne
r, either? If her mother was out with Ben, what had stopped Gaye going out too?
'I suggest you get used to the idea of seeing her here, Jonathan,' Jarrett continued lightly. 'I have a feeling she and Abbie are going to be great friends!'
Wonderful! Just what he wanted to hear!
'Does Abbie know about Gaye's mother?'
'She didn't,' Jarrett replied. 'But Gaye explained the situation to us both shortly after she arrived. Naturally, I didn't let either of them know that I was already aware of the problem.'
Gaye had just explained the situation to Abbie and Jarrett, whereas he had virtually had to prise the information from her! It was ridiculous to feel angry, he knew it was, and yet that was the emotion he felt. It didn't help that she had seemed so relaxed in Abbie and Jarrett's company when he arrived. She had obviously spent a relaxed and enjoyable evening, whereas he—!
And why hadn't she been able to come to dinner? Nothing to do with Richard Craven, he hoped!
'Thank you for that,' he told his brother distractedly.
'For God's sake sit down, Jonathan,' Jarrett ordered. 'You're making the place look untidy!'
He sat. Not because Jarrett had instructed him to, but because he needed to. It had been quite a shock, finding Gaye here when he'd arrived. Besides, he couldn't leave when he had only just arrived; that would look just too obvious!
He grimaced. 'I suppose Charlie is asleep?'
Jarrett smiled. 'Hours ago. She claims school is boring but she comes home every night exhausted, nonetheless.'
Jonathan smiled too as he thought of his step-niece. Charlie had stolen all the brothers' hearts two years ago, but Jarrett's most of all; he absolutely adored his little stepdaughter.
'I've only called in briefly,' Jonathan said tersely. 'I was a little—offhand with you this afternoon.'
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