They took coffee in the lounge, and during the ensuing conversation there was no mention made of Alana, perhaps by tacit agreement, although there was no awkwardness apparent. Jake's parents obviously assumed he had told her of his previous marriage and any details he felt were relevant.
'It's after eleven,' Jake declared with seeming regret, and Stephanie looked momentarily startled, having lost track of time.
'Of course,' Rebecca said gently. 'It's important Stephanie doesn't become overtired.' In one fluid movement she rose to her feet and took Stephanie's hand in hers. 'Sleep well, my dear, and don't worry about getting up early. We rarely breakfast before eight-thirty at weekends.'
Jake moved forward and brushed his lips against Rebecca's forehead. 'I intend taking very good care of her, never fear.' As he straightened he curved an arm round Stephanie's shoulders and the look he cast her held a warm intimacy that left no doubt as to just how he intended taking care of her.
Consequently Stephanie felt a faint blush colour her cheeks, and her proffered 'goodnight' fell as little more than a stammered whisper.
The guest wing was a stunning addition to a perfectly co-ordinated suite, comprising a lounge and a large bedroom with en suite facilities.
As soon as the door closed behind them, Stephanie turned and gave him a vitriolic glare. 'How dare you!' she whispered vehemently, and was further incensed as she glimpsed his wry smile.
'Don't accuse me of something I haven't yet done,' Jake warned softly. 'Or I may become sufficiently tempted to turn fiction into fact.'
'The bedroom has a double bed.'
He gave an indolent shrug. 'There is a second adjoining suite with twin beds, but obviously Mother thought this more appropriate.' A lazy smile curved the edges of his mouth. 'I didn't like to disillusion her.'
Stephanie had great difficulty containing her temper. 'You mean, you took great delight in keeping her in ignorance.'
'Not deliberately.' He lifted a hand and ran it through his hair, ruffling it into attractive disorder. 'How does one explain in this age of permissiveness that a newly-engaged couple supposedly on the verge of matrimony require not only separate beds, but separate rooms?' He slanted a quizzical glance that held a tinge of sardonic humour, and it only served to heighten her rage.
'You don't, by any stretch of the imagination, expect me to share this room with you?' she demanded with chilling wrath.
'The bed is large,' Jake drawled. 'Large enough for both of us with ample space to spare.'
'You have to be joking!' Incredible that she could still speak, as the connotations envisaged almost paralysed her vocal chords! 'I'll use the sofa in the lounge.'
One eyebrow rose in cynical appraisal. 'You expect me to play the gentleman and offer you the bed?'
For a moment she almost insisted, then reason recognised that the sofa would never accommodate his lengthy frame. 'No.' She stepped past him and picked up her bag. 'I'm going to have a shower.' Not bothering to look at him, she moved towards the bathroom, and once inside carefully shut the door. There was no lock, and she tried to be philosophical about it as she showered in record quick time, then, her toilette completed, she slipped a robe over pyjamas and emerged into the bedroom.
Jake was sitting propped against the pillows, a book in hand which appeared to have his entire attention, and she felt a frisson of shock slither down the length of her spine at the sight of so much muscular bare flesh. The least he could have done in the circumstances was to don pyjamas, she thought crossly, then became even more angry as she realised it was probably a deliberate ploy on his part.
Without a word she crossed to the lounge and shut the communicating door with a sense of relief. The sofa looked comfortable, and she was about to subside into it when a silent curse escaped her lips; Central heating provided superficial warmth, but she'd need a blanket, and a pillow. That meant going back into the bedroom-Stephanie knocked, and heard Jake's voice drawl an answer, then with a faint grimace she turned the knob and re-entered the room.
Fixing her gaze on a point somewhere above his left shoulder, she said steadily, 'I need a pillow.' She indicated the spare one resting beside him, then eyed the thrown-back coverlet. 'I'll take that as well.' Suiting words to actions, she quickly gathered them up and moved towards the door.
'Sleep tight, little girl.'
His sardonic mockery was the living end, and without thought she turned and threw the pillow at him. Even as he fielded it she saw his expression change, and one glance was sufficient to send spirals of alarm scudding in countless different directions.
'Come and get it,' Jake commanded softly, and with a strangled refusal she turned and fled.
Her heart was racing and her breathing came in ragged gasps as she reached the lounge— ridiculous, when she considered the distance. Half expecting him to follow and take some retaliatory action, she leaned against the closed door counting the seconds until she was convinced he had none in mind.
With her robe folded beneath her head and the coverlet doubled and tucked around her slight form she tried to cull sleep without success. The longer she tried the more difficult it became, and she lay staring wide-eyed into the darkness cursing Jake afresh, crediting him with every dastardly deed she could summon. It didn't aid sleep, but it sure got rid of an awful lot of pent-up frustration!
The sofa, which at first had seemed reasonably comfortable gradually took on the resemblance of a rack, its buttoned leather hard and unyielding as she endeavoured to relax, and her makeshift pillow became lumpy. What was more, the heavy coverlet seemed like a dead weight, and she gave a despairing groan. At this rate she'd get no sleep at all, and resemble a walking zombie at breakfast— which doubtless would amuse Jake in the knowledge of his parents' likely suspicion of the cause.
For the umpteenth time she stood to her feet and rearranged her bedclothes, spreading the coverlet out and folding it so she could slip in between its enveloping Folds.
A sudden stream of light took her unawares, and she glanced up to see Jake framed in the aperture, his features darkly indiscernible.
'One word,' he breathed with dangerous softness as he advanced towards her, 'just one word out of you, and I'll beat you senseless!'
With numbed fascination she watched as he plucked the coverlet and her robe from the sofa and threw them into the bedroom, then with the minimum of movement he lifted her into his arms and strode into the adjoining room.
Without pausing he crossed to the bed and dropped her down on to it, plumped the pillow, then tossed the blanket over her shocked form.
'Make a move to get out, and I'll haul you back so fast you won't know what happened!' he thrust with pitiless disregard, crossing round to climb in beside her, adding with chilling finality, 'And if you think I have designs on your virtue, forget it. My preference runs to warm willing women aware of every facet of sensual pleasure—not untutored innocents in need of persuasion!'
The light was extinguished, and Stephanie lay shaking with mortifying rage. She longed to turn and thump him, fight with all the tenacity of an infuriated she-cat. Only the knowledge that she couldn't win prevented her, and she seethed, silently plotting his downfall, until sleep finally claimed her.
At some stage of the early morning hours she stirred, and on the periphery between sleep and wakefulness she became aware of tangled images racing just out of reach into a frightening void.
She had to be dreaming, subconsciously seeking a solace that appeared so real she could actually feel arms gathering her close and the gentle brush of lips at her temple.
A small contented sigh emerged, to be replaced almost immediately by startled comprehension as reality dawned, and she came fully awake in an instant. Rigid with shock, she pushed against him, her voice stark with fear.
'Let me go!'
Stephanie felt him move, then there was a click and the bedside lamp threw out a soft illumination.
'You were dreaming,' Jake told her wryly. 'From the way you were moaning
and threshing around, I'd say it was definitely nightmarish.' His eyes narrowed as they, swept her disturbed features. 'You've been crying.'
Her hands shook slightly as she brushed them across her cheeks in a hasty attempt to remove any traces of tears. She felt incredibly vulnerable, and a frightening mixture of emotions fought for supremacy as a strange weakness invaded her limbs.
'Want to talk about it?'
'I don't even remember what it was about,' she faltered, finding his close proximity unbearable. For some reason she wanted to reach out and touch him, let her mouth linger against his skin, and as for the rest of it—her eyes momentarily closed in self-defence against what he might read in their depths. Like a wild insatiable hunger the demand for fulfilment rose within, almost devouring her, and she forced herself to turn away from him, deliberately controlling her breathing. 'Please switch off the light,' she managed quietly, closing her eyes, and she unconsciously tensed as she felt him move, then the room was plunged into darkness.
When she woke it was daylight, and Jake stood fully clothed beside the bed holding a cup and saucer.'
'Come on, sleepyhead, it's well after eight.'
'Why didn't you wake me?' She struggled into a sitting position and took the cup from his hand. The coffee was black, hot and sweet, just the way she liked it, and she sipped appreciatively.
'My parents have planned for us to attend the races at Flemington with them. I agreed we'd go.' His expression held a lazy warmth. 'Do you mind?'
'Of course not. I love horses.' It was true. Their movements were poetry in motion, although given a choice she far preferred to see them untrammelled by saddle and bridle, free to run like the wind without the hand of man.
It was a pleasant day. Jake's parents were excellent hosts, and Stephanie was glad she'd packed something suitable to wear, although she suspected Rebecca had deliberately toned down her own appearance to match Stephanie's understated elegance.
Stephanie had attended Flemington racecourse on several previous occasions, but there was an elusive magic in being there with Jake, and she had to steel herself to recognise the attention showered upon her was only make-believe. It would be all too easy to forget the pretence—worse, to begin to want it to be real. So she smiled a lot, suffered the warm clasp of his hand over hers, and even managed to stand with apparent unconcern when he draped an arm over her shoulders.
She punted on almost every race, and was genuinely ecstatic when she won, philosophical when the horse she'd backed wasn't placed. The first occasion Jake had teasingly offered her a stake for the next, and she refused, politely, but with a firmness that dared him to insist.
They arrived in Kew shortly before six, driven competently by Bart in the opulence of his Rolls. If one had a choice and possessed the wealth to indulge it, a Rolls was the ultimate in motoring experience, Stephanie perceived with a wry little smile. The more she thought about it, the more she was able to understand Alana's desperate bid to hang on. A Rolls-Royce, a penthouse suite in one of Melbourne's prestigious inner city suburbs indicated considerable family wealth. Even Jake's Lamborghini was a rich man's extravagance a preferred few could afford.
'Ah, it will be nice not to have to cook dinner,' Rebecca observed as they rode the elevator to the uppermost floor. 'At Jake's insistence we're dining out.' She sent a smile towards Stephanie. 'Although Bart and I won't party on to a nightclub afterwards. We'll leave that to you younger ones.'
When it came to deciding what to wear, there was only one choice, and Stephanie blessed feminine intuition in having packed the uncrushable synthetic black silk evening trousers and matching blouson top. It was a classic 'go anywhere' outfit, and dressed up with strappy high-heeled sandals, gold chains round her neck, a gold bangle or two on her wrist, it would be eminently suitable.
Only by adopting a blasé approach was she able to sail through showering, changing, alternating use of the bedroom with Jake with the minimum of embarrassment—hers, not his. It was at times like these she wished she'd had a brother. At least now she wouldn't blush at the sight of a male form wearing only a towel hitched carelessly at the waist. From the look of sardonic amusement evident, she suspected he deliberately set out to shock, and it took considerable effort to maintain a calm front.
The restaurant was both intimate and exclusive, the food and wine without fault, and Stephanie began to relax and enjoy herself. With sophisticated adroitness the conversation was never allowed to develop a lull, and after her second glass of wine the evening took on a special illusory glow. It became so easy to smile .with genuine warmth when the three people at her table seemed intent on ensuring her enjoyment. For a moment she allowed herself the folly of believing it was all real, and felt incredibly sad. To be loved and cherished, and be able to give in return, must be the ultimate experience. So many tried and had to settle for less, or never settled at all.
'You've become quiet,' Rebecca observed with a kindly smile, and Stephanie forced her eyes to lighten as she summoned a suitable rejoinder.
'It must be the wine,' she dismissed, and her lips parted to form a humorous smile. 'Any more than two glasses and I begin to feel sleepy.'
'A stroll in the fresh air will soon cure that,' Bart asserted, glancing towards his wife. 'Shall we leave?'
'Oh yes, darlings let's,' Rebecca agreed. 'I'm rather tired, and besides, I'm sure Jake would prefer to have Stephanie all to himself.'
Stephanie opened her mouth to demur, then endeavoured not to show her surprise as Jake leaned forward and brushed his lips against the vulnerable pulsing cord at the side of her throat.
'Do you want to go on somewhere else, or shall we stay here?' he murmured, meeting her slightly startled gaze with lazy intimacy. 'They have a small dance floor, and the music is strictly conventional.'
'Are you sure you don't want to go home?' The words were out before she could stop them, and she felt particularly vulnerable as their implication registered.
'Not yet.' His smile was warm and vaguely teasing as he witnessed her confusion, then he glanced towards his parents. 'We'll get a taxi back.'
'Enjoy yourselves,' Rebecca bade gently, and Stephanie could only nod as she watched them vacate their seats.
When they had gone Jake leaned forward and refilled her glass, then his own. 'Here's to us,' he said softly, and Stephanie ignored the faint mockery evident, lifting the glass to her lips as she acknowledged, 'The success of a venture steeped in deceit and duplicity.'
She saw his eyes harden, and his drawled response held a hint of steel. 'I think you've, had enough.'
With deliberate movements she slowly drained her glass and replaced it on to the table. !Really? I've never been drunk in my life, and I certainly don't intend to start now.'
'Let's dance.'
It wasn't a question, merely a command, and she felt vaguely resentful. 'What if I don't want to?'
'You're treading dangerous ground,' Jake murmured with unmistakable menace. 'Continue, and you may not like the consequences.'
'Ah, punishment,' she drawled, tilting her head to one side as she regarded him. 'A slap on the hand? I dare you to administer one anywhere else.'
'There are methods more subtle,' he drawled, and suddenly the desire to taunt and bandy words lost impetus.
'I'd like to go home—my home.'
'Not possible.'
'Your parents are nice,' she said slowly. 'Far too nice to deceive. I'm not sure I can keep up the pretence for another day.'
'You will,' Jake declared inflexibly, and standing to his feet he caught hold of her hand and drew her up from her chair. 'We'll dance, have coffee, then have the taxi-driver take us home.'
'Jake—'
'Shut up, there's a good girl, and just melt into my arms like a fiancée should, hmm?'
It was all too easy to obey, although the advisability of doing so was definitely suspect. Being held close against him was both agony and ecstasy, and after a while she didn't want to distinguish between the two. Now was all
she cared about. Tomorrow would be soon enough for rational reasoning.
At some stage she was aware of being led back to their table, of Jake paying the bill, and the taxi which pulled up to the kerb when they emerged from the main entrance.
Seated in the rear, she leaned back and cushioned her head against Jake's shoulder as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do.
'Are we taking the long way back?'
She could almost sense his wry humour. 'Do you want to?'
'Oh, I think so,' she managed slowly. 'If you're going to kiss me, I'd rather it be now than—'
'Later?' His lips brushed hers, then slid up towards her temple. 'That's debatable.' His instructions to the driver were clear and concise.
As the vehicle eased forward her hands moved of their own volition to clasp together behind his neck, and a warm languorous ache began deep within as his mouth trailed slowly across her cheekbones, closing each eyelid in turn before tracing a path down to the edge of her mouth.
With infinite gentleness he took her lower lip between both of his and outlined its fullness with his tongue, then he probed the softness of her mouth before seeking the deep pulsing cord at her neck. Next came the vulnerable hollows at the base of her throat, and she gave a silent gasp as his head moved lower to the exposed cleft between her breasts.
With a touch so evocative she almost cried out loud, he slid the silky material aside and aroused one hardening bud to an erotic peak before rendering a similar treatment to its-twin.
Then slowly his mouth trailed up and closed over hers, possessing with a passionate depth that had her silently groaning with despair. She didn't have the will to resist, nor did she want to as he swept her far out on the tide of ecstasy until she became lost, drowning in a sensual pleasure so tumultuous she never wanted to surface.
Their arrival outside the Kew apartment block was an anti-climax, and she waited in bemused silence as Jake paid the driver, then together they walked hand-in-hand towards the main entrance.
Sweet Tempest Page 13
