Wild Justice

by Liz Fielding

  'That marrying me would be a short cut to instant stardom.' The words came out and she realised with something of a shock that it didn't hurt any more. She didn't actually care. 'He was really talented, Luke, but you're close enough to the business to know that talent isn't enough. Our marriage would have scooped all the publicity that goes with a fairy-tale romance. Romeo and Juliet with a happy ending. It would ensure the film would be a hit.' She looked up. 'I don't have to explain it you, Luke. Your friend Richard Crompton recently pulled off a public relations coup using Claudia. Tell me, was it all just a cynical exercise in media manipulation, or did he drop the advertising campaign just to please you?'

  Her attack took him by surprise and for a moment he gaped. 'I am godfather to Richard's daughter, Fizz. Do you really think I would ask him to get involved in something like that?'

  'He's your friend.'

  'And I intend to keep it that way. What happened about the commercial was pure coincidence.'

  'But it wasn't all coincidence was it, Luke?'

  He took her hands in his. She tried to pull away, but he held her. 'Fizz, I'm sorry. I've done what I can to put things right. I've spent the best part of a week sorting out the mess I made.'

  'It was rather heavy handed revenge for one catty remark, Luke. You could have made Claudia look silly without making Dad suffer.'

  'I think you've suffered too.'

  'That was my fault. I shouldn't have relied on Michael so much. I won't make the same mistake again.'

  'Good.' He nodded as if pleased. 'I will explain, Fizz. Everything. But I have to talk to Edward first.'

  He waited for some acknowledgement that she had heard, had understood what he said. After a moment a shuddering sigh escaped her and she nodded and when he squeezed her fingers gently, she looked up and smiled.

  'You still haven't told me why didn't you marry Patrick March.'

  'Does it matter?'

  'You were in love with him?'

  'Of course I was in love with him. Half the women on the set were in love with him and most of them were old enough to know better. I was eighteen and as green as grass, he was drop dead gorgeous and clever enough not to be too obvious. He didn't even make a pass at me. He was the perfect gentleman.'

  'How frustrating for you.'

  She gave him a quick smile, grateful that he hadn't needed it spelt out in words of one syllable.

  'Yes. I suppose he knew just how frustrating. He was light years ahead of me in fact. Then we shot the first bedroom scene. Most actors get the giggles you know. I mean it's pretty ludicrous. There you are, stark naked, rolling about in bed with a lighting man holding a reflector six inches from your left cheek, a sound man leaning over to catch every sigh, the director piling in with his suggestions as to just where the leading man should be putting his hand.' Luke didn't say anything. 'I didn't even notice them. It was electric. First take stuff. I wanted him so much.' She lifted her shoulders. 'I suppose everyone knew what was going on. It was a director's dream. The real thing on screen. Afterwards, when I realised what it was all about I felt so used. They were two clever ambitious men who didn't think twice about what they were doing to me.'

  'Not that clever. Neither of them got what they wanted.'

  'No. I think perhaps that Patrick meant to keep me on the boil until he'd led me up the aisle.' She pulled her hand away, stood up, walked over to the window and stared out at the dark sea. 'But my name owes more to my habit of going off like a champagne cork under pressure, than my sister's childhood lisp. You may have noticed.'

  He joined her at the window. Put his arm around her shoulders, smiled at down her. 'I noticed.' She smiled up at him, briefly, then looked back at the sea.

  'Yes, well. While my enthusiasm initially made up for my lack of experience, I don't suppose I was up to his usual standard.'

  'Personally I'd have said you had natural talent.'

  'Would you?' How odd. That's what they had said about her acting at RADA. That she had natural talent. She shrugged. 'Then I left my script in his caravan. It didn't occur to me to knock when I went back for it. One of the make-up girls had taken my place. The sheets must still have been warm…' She stopped for a moment. No. It truly didn't hurt any more. 'It caused a bit of a problem with the filming, there were quite a few of those steamy bedroom scenes.'

  'That must have been unpleasant for you.'

  She looked up then, half a smile stealing across her lips. 'Not as unpleasant for me, as for him. I'm afraid that after that I was sick whenever he touched me.'

  'Sick?' He began to grin. 'Physically sick?'

  'It wasn't funny at the time, Luke. Without me there wasn't a film. And I did try. The producer, poor man, was having kittens and the budget was wildly out of control. But I just couldn't do it. The harder I tried, the worse it got. The weight fell off me, I looked dreadful. Someone must have telephoned Claudia and told her that I was ill. It might even have been Patrick, I didn't ask and she didn't tell me. I was too sick to care.'

  His arm was around her, the temptation to simply bury her head in his chest and go with the flow was overwhelming. But she drew back. 'Well, that's it. The cheap and sordid story of my one romance. Since then I've relied on my radio station to keep me warm on cold winter nights.'

  'Your radio station?'

  'Yes.' She lifted her chin. 'My radio station. It was my idea. I own it. I run it. Not many people know that. Jim, Susie, a couple of the senior staff who have been with us from the beginning.'

  'But why? And why is your father's name on the franchise?'

  'I preferred to stay in the background. Dad does the limelight bit so much better than me. And anyway, who in their right minds would have given it to a failed actress barely out of her teens? I mean, I didn't make an world-shattering impression on you as a business woman that first day in your office and I've been at it for five years now.'

  He laughed. 'If you knew exactly what kind of an impression you made on me that, my love, you would blush.'

  His love? 'Would I?' She turned to him. 'Well, I guess that makes us about even.'

  'I suppose this is where I'm expected to apologise? Beg you to keep the money?'

  She smiled slightly. 'Well, actually you missed your cue for the apology some time ago. And I don't want your money, Luke. I've made other arrangements to ensure the future of the radio station. All that's left now is to say goodbye.' She took a step back and offered her hand. He took it, held it, pulled her closer.

  'And if I were to tell you that the balance of the sponsorship money was paid into your bank account just before close of business today?'

  The tremble that swept over her came as a complete surprise. She had convinced herself that she had Luke's number, that there could be no more shocks. 'I would have to ask why you came here tonight if it wasn't to bear me away to your four-poster bed and have your wicked way with me? You certainly let me believe that was what you intended.'

  'Maybe I didn't contradict the impression you had. But you allowed me to think you were prepared to go through with it, so I planned to give you a bit of a fright for being so damned stupid. Then I was going to take you to an attractive country pub Andy told me about, have a drink, supper maybe, talk certainly.'

  'Well, we've talked. Maybe you'd like to change your mind about that drink?'

  'You still haven't answered my question.'

  'It was hypothetical. Have you paid in the balance of the money?'

  He nodded, once.

  She couldn't believe the rush of joy that swept over her leaving her weak, so weak that she simply leaned against him, laying her head against his chest.

  'Then my answer, Luke, is that I would be very happy. Happy to know that you never meant to carry out your threats. Happy to accept a generous gesture. And more than happy to return the money to you the moment the bank opens tomorrow morning.'

  She felt suddenly liberated, light-headed, free of all the terrible tensions and anxieties of the last weeks.


  'Return it? How? How have you found the money?' He gave her a little shake, demanding an answer.

  'Don't worry, Luke. I promise you I didn't walk the streets.'

  The colour drained from his face. 'I suppose I asked for that.'

  'I suppose you did. Now, would you like brandy? Or a glass of wine? There's a bottle in the fridge. You could always ring for a taxi if you were worried about driving.'

  'Or I could sleep on your sofa again?'

  'My sofa?' she murmured. 'Why on earth would you want to do that. I'm sure it isn't very comfortable.' Certainly not as comfortable as my bed, Fizz thought, and blushed.

  'I'm open to alternative suggestions. In the meantime I'll accept your offer of a drink. But only if you take off that dreadful suit.'

  'Take it off?' She looked down at it. 'Now you mean?'

  His cheekbones seared dull red as he realised what he had said. 'No!' But it was too late. She slipped the buttons of the jacket and let it slide onto the floor. Then she unhooked the waistband, slid down the zip of her skirt. It rustled over the black silk teddy that swooped over the flare of her hips, skimming her thighs to expose long legs clad in sheerest black stockings, before dropping in a crumpled heap upon the floor.

  'No?' she queried, softly.

  For a moment there was a silence so intent that as they stood in the lambent firelight they could have heard a star fall a galaxy away.

  Then Luke dragged his eyes back to her face and although his eyes were hooded, disguising his expression, she could feel the heightened awareness, the quickening of the tension that stretched between them like the gossamer silk of a spider's web. Barely visible, yet so strong that it bound them irreversibly together.

  'Yes,' he said. 'Oh god, yes.' And with a sound from his throat that was somewhere between a sigh and a groan, Luke reached out and tugged free the combs that fastened her hair.

  It uncoiled, thick and heavy, the colour of chestnuts newly burst from the shell in the flickering flames of the fire, it spread about her face and fell over her white shoulders in a rich cascade. He lifted its weight in his hands, letting the silky length fall between his fingers.

  Then, without a word, he gathered her into his arms. He didn't rush. He gave her time to say no, if that was what she wanted. But it wasn't. All the nightmares were over. It was time to say yes.

  She slipped her hand over his chest, sliding them beneath his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders. Before it hit the floor her arms were around his neck and she pulled his mouth down to her, letting her body and her lips and her hands say it for her.

  As his mouth sought hers, the tip of his tongue, his teeth grazing her lips, her need for him filled her entire being, flooding through her body, heating her bone deep until the desire that had been slowly building from the first moment she set eyes on him quite suddenly ignited.

  She wanted him and as she felt his need for her, the rampant hardness of his body against hers she wanted, more than anything in the world, to touch him. And since she was a natural, she did what came naturally. He caught her hand. Held it against him for a moment, before lifting it to his mouth, kissing her palm. Then without a word he picked her up and headed for the bedroom while she clung to him like a life raft on a stormy sea, her nails digging into his shoulders.

  Dusky velvet curtains were drawn across the windows, shutting out the dark night, the rest of the world. The lamp at the side of bed was lit throwing a soft light across the bed where the quilt was thrown back invitingly. He put her down and was beside her before she could complain at their separation.

  For a long moment he stared down at her, his eyes smoking with a desirethat left her weak with longing and she lifted her hands to his face, rubbing her palms over the faint stubble of his chin, murmuring his name.

  He caught one of the narrow ribbons that held up her teddy between his long fingers. 'Black,' he murmured, his face all dark shadows. 'A little obvious?' He was teasing her. It was an intimate, intoxicating sensation and she loved it.

  'If you don't like it, Luke,' she murmured in husky invitation, 'why don't you take it off?'

  'Who said I didn't like it?' But he pushed away the ribbon, kissing her shoulder where it had caressed her skin, nuzzling the hollows of her throat, her neck and she gave a little cry of pleasure as his lips brushed the soft cleavage.

  He stroked the heavy silk away from milky smooth breasts and for a moment his eyes lingered there. Then with the edge of his thumbs he teased their pink tips to a provocative invitation which he graciously accepted, drawing each delicately thrusting point into his mouth in turn, his tongue tormenting her to an exquisite agony of pleasure as she threaded her fingers through his thick dark hair, holding him close, offering herself to him.

  'Fizz,' he murmured. 'Hold me now, touch me.' She needed no encouragement. Despite shaking fingers she swiftly unbuttoned his shirt, pushing it back from his shoulders, over the iron hard muscles of his arms until he could discard it and her hands could leisurely explore his chest, tease the broad expanse of his back with the tips of her nails, torment him in turn with her tongue until he gave a fierce groan and seizing her he rolled onto his back so that she was lying above him.

  'Witch,' he murmured, softly. 'You must have me bewitched, because God help me, I can't help myself.'

  'Tell me to stop,' she invited, with a crazy little laugh as she recognised her power over him and a wildness seized her. She knew that he could not do it and she slid down his chest until she was confronted with the waist band of his trousers. She looked up then, her eyes indigo dark. 'Just say, if you want me to stop,' she repeated, 'and I will.'

  But as she slipped the button, tugged down the zip, eased her hand inside the waistband to push down his trousers, his shorts, the only sound was a hiss of pleasure. Then he stilled as her tongue, her teeth followed the trail blazed by her hands over his abdomen, down the smooth skin inside his thighs and she felt him quiver with his need for her.

  For a moment she knelt between his legs, just looking at him. He was beautiful. Lean, hard, with sculpted muscles that defined his strong neck, wide shoulders, the flat plain of her stomach. She reached out to touch it, but he caught her hand, pulling her down on top of him so that her breasts were flattened against his chest and she could feel just how hard he was. All over. His eyes shimmered as he looked up at her, his lips curved in a smile of delicious anticipation. Then without warning he tipped her over onto her back, so that she lay against the pillows, her hair tumbled wildly about her face.

  'Did you enjoy that, hussy?' he asked, as he made a cave of his body over her.

  'Why don't you try it and find out for yourself?' And she stretched out in invitation, smiling lazily up at him.

  'Do tell me if you want me to stop at any time, Fizz,' he invited, confident that nothing would interrupt his slow exploration of her body as slowly, very slowly, he pulled the teddy down, lifting her to ease it under her hips, leaving a trail of kisses over her breasts, her waist, the gentle swell of her abdomen, down the smooth silk clad skin of her inner thigh and Fizz drew up her leg in response to the erotic charge that surged through her. 'How beautiful you are,' he said, propping himself on one elbow to lie alongside her, to look at her, touch her.

  Fizz, desperate to feel his skin against hers, to take his weight, to know him said, 'Tell me later. Right now I don't want talk.' And she turned to press herself along the length of his body. 'I want action.'

  There was a moment when they just stared at one another, another as his mouth swooped to plunder hers, pushing her back against the bedclothes, sliding his fingers into her.

  Fizz arched her back, pushing against his hand. 'Now, Luke,' she demanded. 'I want you. Now.' And then she gasped as he drove into her, filling her, she cried out, twisting in his arms, rising to meet his thrusts until something exploded. Fizz. Bang. A chorus of angels singing the Hallelujah Chorus while Luke shuddered against her.

  Afterwards it seemed very quiet. Luke, his head thrown back against the
pillow, his neck corded in the shadowed light, lay perfectly still, holding her against him. Fizz did not dare move. Part of her was still in heaven with the angels, but part of her was afraid, terrified even. He looked so distant.

  Luke moved. Turned to her so that she was confronted with his chest. It was beautiful, as chests went. Sculptured even. Not a lot of hair. She wanted to touch it, put out her tongue and taste his skin, take possession of him. The choir grew a little in volume. She had just decided that it would be safe to run her finger along the hollow of his collar bone when he brushed back the hair from her face and looked at her intently.

  'I'm sorry, Fizz.' Sorry? The chorus stopped abruptly. The pain was instant, agonising, immutable. 'I'm not usually quite that stupid.' Stupid! 'I don't know what came over me.'

  'Don't you? Isn't there a word for it?' He looked startled. 'Lust?' she offered.

  'That wasn't… Fizz!' he protested as she flung herself off the bed. He came after her, rolling upright, reaching for her in a single movement. Graceful, quite unconscious of his nudity. 'I did nothing to protect you,' he said, pulling her back into his arms. Then, thickly, 'And I'm pretty damned sure you haven't done anything to protect yourself.'

  'Oh.' Even in her lust for Patrick she had never been quite so lost to common sense. But then all those lectures Claudia had given her about safe sex had been so long ago that she hadn't for a moment thought about it. Even afterwards, up there with the angels, it hadn't crossed her mind.

  She didn't doubt for a moment that he was right to be concerned. She just wished that for a moment he could have forgotten consequences and stayed to listen with her to the chorus.

  She shrugged out of his arms, crossed to the bathroom door where she fixed a bright smile to her face before turning back to him.

  'Well, it's too late to do anything about it. I won't worry about it, if you don't.'

  He was across the room to her, grasping her arms, holding her at a distance before she could step back. 'Idiot,' he said, fiercely. Then, 'Marry me.'

  She stared up at him, at the intensity of emotion knotting the muscles on his neck, his jaw. He was really concerned. Well, that was nice, but it wasn't enough. 'I think you're overreacting, Luke. You've been working too hard.'