Pregnancy of Revenge

by Jacqueline Baird

  'You really do?' Charlie queried uncertainly, a tide of red sweeping up over her pale face as her body responded with quivering eagerness to the powerful strength of his embrace. She was hopelessly confused. She couldn't understand why he blew hot and cold. She couldn't understand men, full stop! she thought helplessly.

  With a husky chuckle Jake bent his dark head, if you need me to confirm it after the past few hours, then I ob­viously have not fulfilled your expectations.' And he took her shocked open mouth with his in a display of erotic ex­pertise that left her in no doubt of his desire for her

  'This is madness ' Jake groaned a moment later, lifting his head to look down at her with stormy black eyes. 'But you are a fire in my blood and I can't resist you.'

  Charlie should have been flattered by his comment, but there was something suspiciously like resentment in his dark gaze that sounded warning bells in her head. He was a gor­geous virile male, streets ahead of her in experience and sophistication, and yet he said it was madness. Perhaps it was! She had fallen headlong in love with him but what did she really know about him? Other than that he was a fabulous lover and they had come together with what some, herself included, would say was unseemly haste, since meet­ing two days ago!

  'Maybe I should leave," she said stiffly, it's late.'

  After he had admitted he was burning for her, not a con­fession he usually made, Jake was disconcerted by her sud­den about-face. Dark colour flared over his high cheek­bones, and he drew in a ragged breath and relaxed his hold on her. Having spent years calling the shots with the women in his life, he found it a salutary experience to have Charlotte do the same to him. His heavy-lidded eyes half closed as he stepped back and glanced at his wrist-watch. 'You're right, it's after one—there's no point waiting for a cab. I'll drive you home.'

  Charlie thought she had offended him, so the relief she felt was immense when he drew up outside the apartment block with a squeal of brakes and turned to her. 'Thank you for a wonderful day, Charlotte, and an even better evening. Give me your number and I will call you tomorrow. Something so good should not be ignored.' He grinned.

  Quickly she withdrew a business card and pen from her purse, and wrote Dave's number on the back. She also took out her door key.

  'Home and here,' she murmured as Jake took the card from her fingers, and slid out of the car to walk around the bonnet and open the passenger door.

  'Come on, Charlotte.' He held out his hand and, relieved, she took it and walked up the steps to the entrance foyer.

  She swiped the card through the slot, and the glass doors slid open. "Good evening, Miss Summerville,' the security guard on the reception desk called out. Charlie returned the greeting, and then glanced back at Jake, reluctant to part from him but not sure how to proceed. Stupid, she knew, when not long ago she had been in bed with the man but she couldn't help it. Before Jake she had imagined love to be some perfect life-enhancing dream: the insecurity she now felt had not been part of it.

  Sensing her dilemma, Jake cupped her face in his hands, and brushed his lips to hers. 'Goodnight.' He felt her trem­ble and smiled. 'I'll call.' And he left.

  His smile and gentle kiss lingered on her lips like a ben­ediction and when she reached her apartment she fell into bed and slept like the proverbial log.

  Charlie yawned and stretched, then groaned. She ached in places she never knew she had. Jake. She murmured his name, and images of the previous day ran tike a video re­cording through her mind. A deep, shuddering sigh escaped her and even the line cotton cover felt too warm on her overheated flesh.

  She glanced at the bedside clock, and looked again. Ten o'clock! She had overslept big time Jake might have al­ready called, and, leaping off the bed, she dashed into the shower. She dressed with feverish haste in her favourite blue jeans and a white cotton shirt, and swept her hair up in a pony-tail. She looked at herself in the mirror as she rubbed a light moisturiser into her face and paused, noting the spar­kle in her eyes, the flush of excitement along her delicate cheekbones, and marvelled at the difference having a man in her life had made. Her total transformation from a brisk, efficient young woman to the hungry, sensuous creature that smiled back at her took some getting used to. Still smiling, she walked into the tiny kitchen and pressed the call retrieve button on the wall-mounted telephone. Her smile faded as the automated voice informed her, 'No messages.'

  She switched on the coffee percolator and consoled her­self with the fact Jake had said he was going to work. Then she discovered she had no milk. She disliked black coffee, but she managed to drink one cup, and ate an apple, the only food in the place. She really should do some shopping, but she was too afraid to leave the apartment in case she missed Jake's call.

  She washed her cup before strolling back into the living area. It took her all of ten minutes to tidy it up, then, as­cending the stairs to the galleried sleeping area, she made the bed. For the next two hours she paced the apartment, one minute elated, sure he would call, and the next moment in despair, convinced he wouldn't.

  Finally by midday she realised she was behaving like a besotted idiot. She needed milk, and, grabbing her bag and keys, she took the lift to the ground floor. The doorman told her where the nearest convenience store was and she stepped out into the spring sunshine, telling herself if Jake did call he would probably leave his number and she could call him back, no problem.

  The store was a lot further than the doorman had made it sound, and it was an hour later when Charlie, a carrier bag in one hand, her head bent in gloom, trudged back into her apartment building.

  'Buon giorno, cara. ‘The deep, melodious voice was mu­sic to her ears, and her head shot up. 'I see the wanderer has returned."

  Jake was waiting in the foyer. He strolled towards her and stared down at her from his great height, a slow smile curving across his handsome face. 'Charlotte.'

  As he said her name Charlie's heart beat a frenzied tattoo in her chest and she blushed, as the memory of last night seemed all too real. He was here, inches away from her; she could reach out and touch him.

  'Let me help you with that.' He took the carrier from her hand, and smiled wryly when he saw the expression on her face. His dark head bent and he brushed his lips lightly against her cheek. 'I called to see if you would like to have lunch with me.' His deep accented drawl and the promise in the dark eyes that met hers made her ache for so much more.

  'Jake. You're here.' She finally found her voice. 'I thought you were going to ring.'

  He straightened up, and the eyes that held hers were sud­denly dark and unfathomable. 'I hope I have not called at an inconvenient moment, interrupted anything.'

  'No, not at all,' she hastened to reassure him, her eyes sliding lovingly over him, taking in the casual cream trou­sers and the open-necked, slightly darker polo shirt that re­vealed the perfect musculature of his chest. She swallowed hard and said, 'Come on up. I only have to put the milk in the fridge and then I'm yours.'

  'You're sure about that?' Jake demanded, if you're in­volved with someone else, say so now, Charlotte.'

  She shook her head. 'Of course not.' She could sense the sudden tension in him, and wondered at its cause. 'Whatever gave you that idea?'

  'Maybe because you are staying in another man's apart­ment.'

  She laughed in relief. 'Oh, Dave is just a very old friend.'

  'Then I trust he stays that way, and I can assume I am your current lover exclusively. I do not believe in sharing, and, I trust, neither do you,' he drawled with silken empha­sis. 'Or did I get that wrong?'

  'No—yes.' He was staring down at her with dark, almost angry eyes and Charlie was hopelessly confused. 'I mean, of course you are.'

  My God! Jake actually sounded jealous, she realised, al­though he had no reason to be. She was about to tell him so, and explain Dave was her boss at International Rapid Rescue, but she didn't get the chance.

  'Good.' Looping an arm around her waist, he ushered her into the lift. 'Third floor, c
orrect?'

  Mildly affronted by his abrupt manner, she asked, 'I thought you had to work today?' She was not a complete pushover, even if she had given Jake that impression.

  'A certain lady left me wide awake and aching, so I worked for what was left of the night.'

  She smiled up at him, feeling the tension in the arm that held her leaving him. 'Gosh, unable to sleep? That's funny, I slept like a log.' Her stomach twisted in knots at the thought of Jake aching for her.

  'Witch,' he chuckled, and at that moment they reached her floor.

  Inexplicably, Charlie felt nervous showing Jake into the apartment. Taking the carrier from his hand, she said, 'Make yourself at home while I put this away,' and dashed for the kitchen before she did something foolish like grabbing him. She didn't want to appear too desperate.

  Jake's dark gaze roamed around what was a basic studio apartment. The place was tiny, and it was obviously used for one thing only: the bed.

  A tiny living area contained a sofa that faced a television and music centre, and in between a sheepskin rug covered most of the wood floor. An open staircase led up to a gallery that held a large bed and nothing much else except a door that obviously had to lead to the bathroom. The space be­neath the stairs housed a desk and computer and a row of bookcases, and that was it.

  It confirmed all his worst suspicions: this was a love nest, or a bachelor pad at best. He cursed the crazy impulse that had made him come looking for Charlotte. It was not like him at all. But after a sleepless night, when visions of her exquisite body had tormented him, and he had sat for a few hours at the computer but had not been able to even occupy his mind with work, his curiosity had got the better of him— and, if he was honest, so had his libido. And he had deter­mined to see her again. Big mistake.

  He strode across to the window and the view did nothing to improve his mood: the back of a warehouse. Then he noticed the silver photo frame on the window-sill. He picked it up, his dark eyes narrowing on the picture it contained. A tall, burly, fair-haired man, with a slim dark woman at his side and three children kneeling at their feet. Surely Charlotte's last lover could not be a married man?

  'That's Dave and his family.' He turned his head at the sound of her voice. She was standing in the kitchen doorway smiling at him.

  Jake remained standing by the window, uneasiness clutch­ing at his gut. His hooded dark eyes raked over Charlotte's slender figure and beaming face. She looked totally un­ashamed innocent almost, and yet she was using another man's apartment. A married man at that.

  'Very nice.' Jake placed the frame back on the table. 'And this apartment is very cozy, but hardly a family home?' he prompted.

  'No Dave has a house in Dorset and only uses this flat when he is in London on business.'

  Jake stiffened. She was as good as admitting a married man had been her lover, and it disgusted him. 'Convenient,' Jake said cynically, subjecting her to a hard, steady ap­praisal. 'For you.'

  His relationship with Charlotte had started out straight­forwardly enough, as an act of revenge. After last night he should have left it at that.

  Charlotte was moving towards him, her incredible eyes wide and guileless as she flashed him a brilliant smile. "For everyone. Lisa, his wife, loved the place; she said it was a perfect bolt-hole for the pair of them when the children got too much.' She continued walking towards him. 'Come September Joe, the eldest son, is moving in when he starts at university.'

  'You know the whole family?' Jake queried, his suspicion of this Dave as the man in her life fading a little.

  'Have done almost all my life.' Charlotte stopped beside him and picked up the picture. 'They've been regulars at the hotel for almost twenty years or so. This is an old photo from when the children were young—they're all teenagers now.' An abstracted smile curved her full lips. 'Lisa was a great friend of my mother's, and after her death Lisa and Dave were great to me, a bit like an honorary aunt and uncle. I stayed quite a few times at their home in Dorset.'

  Jake draped a casual arm around her shoulder, took the picture from her unresisting fingers and placed it back on the table, his relief intense. She glanced up at him and looked a little sad, but she was entitled to be. She was like him, alone in the world, and it worried him. As the elusive Dave no longer worried him. He did what he had ached to do from the moment he had seen her again.

  Charlie saw his darkening gaze and just had time to be surprised by the oddest flash of relief in his eyes as he bent towards her and gathered her close and took her softly parted lips in a deep, open-mouthed kiss that inflamed all her senses. Her hand reached for his broad shoulders, and her slender fingers threaded up through the sleek black hair as his tongue pursued a subtle exploration of her mouth. He released her lips and she groaned as his tongue found the delicate coils of her ear. His fingers were deftly moving to the buttons of her shirt, releasing them. She had dressed in haste and was braless and his hand took full advantage, pushing aside the soft cotton and cupping her naked breast. Her body leapt in immediate response, a low groan of plea­sure escaping her.

  'No,' Jake rasped, lifting his head. He saw the desire in her smoky blue eyes, and forced himself to ignore it as he deftly refastened her blouse and hugged her tight. She de­served better than a quick lay. 'Not here, cara. I came to take you to lunch.'

  'I'm not that hungry.'

  'But I am, and the restaurant at my hotel provides very good food.' He eased her away from him, his dark gaze roaming over her lovely face, and lingering on her lips, and his good intentions were shot to hell. 'And excellent room service,' he added huskily.

  'Suddenly, I'm starving. And I would love to join you for lunch.' She beamed back at him.

  The openness of her smile, the undisguised sensuality in her brilliant eyes, sent a thrill of anticipation running through Jake's veins, and another course of action occurred to him. 'In that case, while I am on a winning streak—you did say you were on holiday, so how about you pack your bags and take advantage of all the amenities of a first-rate hotel suite, including me, for the next couple of weeks, in­stead of this tiny apartment?'

  'Move in with you?' Charlie was shocked, and still reel­ing from his assault on her senses. She wanted to, but felt she had to demur. 'But we only met two days ago, we hardly know each other.'

  'All the more reason. It will give you time to get to know me. And don't worry, I can truthfully declare I am a finan­cially viable, clean-living, totally unattached male. It is atwo-bedroom suite and if you prefer you can have your own room.'

  'I don't know,' she murmured. A voice of caution in her head was reminding her Jake wasn't offering her happy ever after. He had told her he would never marry. But her feel­ings for him overpowered every other consideration.

  'Yes, you do,' he said confidently. 'The sexual chemistry between us is electric. We both want the same thing, and badly.' Lifting his hand, he brushed his fingers along the edge of her jaw, and Charlie instinctively moved her head like a cat seeking the stroking fingers. 'And you know it,' he said with a throaty chuckle.

  She looked up at him, a brief smile curling her mouth, and said softly, 'Your hotel sounds a lot of fun, Jake. I'll go and pack.'

  Jake watched the sway of her pert bottom as she walked up the stairs. His body hardened yet again, and he was tempted to follow her. But instead he lowered himself down on the sofa. He felt strange. He had just asked Charlotte to stay with him for two weeks, something he never did with the women in his life. A weekend, yes, maybe, but longer— never. He shook his head. Two impulsive actions in one day; not like him at all.

  Ten minutes later Charlie skipped down the stairs, a hold­all in her hand. 'Right, I'm ready.'

  'That's it?' Jake rose to his feet, his dark eyes narrowing on the single bag she carried. 'I thought you told me you were on holiday for two weeks.'

  'I am, but I always travel light.'

  'Amazing.'

  'Not really,' Charlie said seriously. 'It's just a question of knowing what you
need and packing carefully.'

  If you say so,' Jake agreed and, taking her bag and with was any chance at all of extending their relationship longer than a couple of weeks, it had to be with honesty and trust. Something Jake appeared to have very little faith in.

  'No, actually, I have not,' she said quietly, raising her eyes to his and adding, 'This is a first for me.'

  Her eyes must have given her away as he muttered some­thing thickly in Italian, and reached for her. The doors slid open and he swore, and walked her across the hall and into his suite with unseemly haste.

  'You are an incredible woman. You never cease to sur­prise me,' Jake husked, and he captured her mouth with his own in a deeply passionate kiss.

  She could feel the heavy thud of his heart beneath the palms of her hands resting against his chest... Both his arms were around her, pressing her against him, and she felt his body hardening, merging with hers. She trembled as his lips feathered brief, tormenting kisses against her temples and down to the vulnerable curve of her neck.

  'Dio, I want you,' Jake murmured against her ear, and, sweeping her up in his arms, he carried her into the bed­room.

  They spent the rest of Sunday in bed, and all night. By the time Charlie surfaced on Monday morning she was a different woman. No woman ever had a more ardent lover, she was sure, and she had told Jake so, over and over again, fascinated by his big, hard-muscled body as he taught her with skill and eroticism how responsive her own could be.

  She stretched languorously on the bed, and watched Jake, who had ten minutes earlier deserted her for the shower, stroll back into the bedroom wearing only a towel slung low on his hips. He had a magnificent body, all golden skin and rippling muscle, and after last night Charlie was no longer too shy to look.