by Penny Jordan
Conscious of Louise’s critically appraising scrutiny, Lissa obediently lifted her face in the direction of Joel’s as he bent towards her. His mouth touched her cheek, his lips cool and firm, and a tiny shiver ran through her. She started to pull away, but his hand curled round the back of her head, his thumb tilting her jaw. For one surprised second her eyes stared into his, noting that close to they weren’t flat, metallic gold at all, but warm and alive, glittering with topaz depths and then his mouth was on hers and instinctively her eyelashes fluttered down, her heartbeat surging into a faster tempo. Her body melted into soft pliancy with a swiftness that startled her, her lips enjoying the tactile sensation of Joel’s moving against them. His grip on the back of her neck suddenly tightened and for a moment Lissa thought that he was actually going to kiss her properly, but then he released her stepping back, his mouth twisting in a derisive smile that reminded her of the old Joel she had resented so much.
‘Daddy gone,’ Emma exclaimed mournfully as the kitchen door closed behind him, and Lissa automatically directed her to finish up her breakfast, at the same time unable to stop her fingers from touching her still tremulous mouth, startled by the realisation that she had actually wanted Joel to kiss her. Why … why should Joel be able to arouse inside her a physical response that she was unable to give to anyone else?
It was probably because he knew the truth, she told herself and that because of that she was able to relax with him … knowing that she had nothing to fear; neither his anger nor his rejection. And after all he was an extremely attractive specimen of the male species she reminded herself wryly. She had grown so used to seeing Joel in his role as caring and concerned father-figure-cum-confessor that she was beginning to lose sight of the fact that he was also an extremely virile, sensual male. The thought was a disquieting one. At the moment Joel felt guilty enough about the past, and concerned enough for her and the girls for them to absorb all his spare time, but what would happen in the future when they were not such immediate concerns? When the girls were secure enough not to need so much attention? He was not a man she could ever envisage living like a monk … So he would take a mistress, a tiny voice told her coolly. What else could she expect? How could she object? How indeed? But more important why should she want to object? She didn’t want Joel as her lover … did she?
That she should entertain even the slightest doubt rocked her into hurried action … anything to dispel such dangerous thoughts. Quickly she cleared away the breakfast things and got the girls buttoned into warm clothes so that she could take them for a walk.
Winterly had extensive gardens and Lissa took the girls outside for a walk most mornings. It was still only February, and although the weather was relatively mild there was definitely a chilly nip in the air.
They were out for almost an hour, returning with rosy cheeks and bright eyes, Emma now in Lissa’s arms.
She had just put her down when the phone started to ring. Lissa picked up the receiver, delighted when she realised the woman on the other end of the line was calling in response to her ad for a new housekeeper. She lived locally, her caller told Lissa, and had been widowed eighteen months ago. In her late fifties she found herself with time on her hands and although she had had no previous working experience, she sounded so warm and pleasant that Lissa made an appointment to interview her.
With someone else to take over the more mundane household duties she would have more time to spend with the girls and some to spare to help Joel with his paper work. He had had a secretary who had come in a couple of days a week he had explained to her, but she had left the area when she married, and now he was relying on John’s secretary at the factory complex, which was really an unsatisfactory arrangement. ‘Mrs Hartwell already has more than enough to do,’ he had told Lissa when they were discussing the matter, ‘and once the new Managing Director is appointed, it would hardly be fair of me to appropriate his secretary’s time for estate work.’
‘Once we’ve got a new housekeeper I could help out here,’ Lissa had offered, and she remembered now the way he had looked at her, thoughtfully almost as though he were trying to see into her mind.
‘You already do more than enough,’ he had told her rather abruptly. ‘Just because you’re my wife, Lissa, I don’t expect you to work yourself into the ground.’
‘But can’t you see, I want to do it,’ she had retorted. ‘I want to help you as much as I can Joel … I need to be able to justify myself my role as your wife,’ she had admitted, surprising herself by her honesty.
‘Do you?’ The expression in his eyes then had been one she couldn’t interpret, but she had moved quickly away from him, alerted by some primitive instinct to do so, although quite what she had feared she had been at a loss to know. Certainly his mouth had curled into a distinctly cynical smile, and he had said in that quiet, silky, even voice of his which she had learned to recognise was one he used when he was particularly irritated, ‘There’s no need to run away, Lissa, I’m not going to pounce on you …’
Lissa had been immediately ashamed of her reaction. Not once in the three weeks since she had told him the truth had Joel given the slightest indication of wanting to touch her in any way. At first her relief in having told him the truth blotted out any other emotions but now …
Now what? she challenged herself as she made the girls’ lunch. She was disappointed because Joel had kept to his word? Of course not. How ridiculous … How could she be?
She had arranged to see Mrs Fuller, the applicant for the housekeeper’s post while the girls had their afternoon nap, and when she answered the door to her knock Lissa was agreeably pleased with what she saw.
Small and slightly plump, Mrs Fuller had an air of warmth about her that Lissa immediately liked. As she showed her over the house she explained the type of life they led, adding, ‘Of course the girls will not be your concern, but they are part of the household and both Joel and myself want them to feel secure and happy here. I do believe in a certain amount of discipline, but if for instance you feel that you couldn’t cope with muddy boots in the kitchen occasionally or toys in the hall, then this post won’t be for you,’ Lissa said firmly, feeling relieved when Mrs Fuller laughed warmly.
‘Heavens, no, I think children make a home. I had three myself. They’re all married now and living away from home. Both my girls live abroad—one in Australia the other in California, so unfortunately I don’t get to see my grandchildren often enough, but I do know what it means to have young children about the place. Of course there’ll be certain rooms that you won’t want them to play in.’
‘The drawing room, my husband’s study and the formal dining room,’ Lissa agreed.
They talked for a little while longer, and when Mrs Fuller eventually left having agreed to start work the following Monday Lissa was extremely pleased.
She told Joel about it over dinner, checking as she wondered if perhaps he would have preferred to interview Mrs Fuller himself.
‘Good heavens no,’ he told her when she asked. ‘That is entirely your province and if you say she’s the right person for the job then I’m sure she is.’
He went on to tell her about the interviews he had been conducting to find a Managing Director to take over the running of the factory.
‘I’ve managed to narrow it down to three,’ he told her. ‘I’m doing the final interviews tomorrow. I’ll be glad when it’s all sorted out.’
He looked tired Lissa realised, her frown deepening when she realised as well that he had lost a little weight. He had removed his suit jacket before he sat down for dinner and the fine silk of his shirt moved fluidly against his skin as he shifted in his seat. A strange, unfamiliar tension gripped her, her mouth suddenly dry, a pulse beating through her body with heavy forcefulness.
‘Lissa?’
She realised that she was staring at him and dragged her gaze away, wondering if perhaps she was coming down with something. She felt so odd.
‘Lissa, are you okay?’ He
stretched across the table, his fingers circling her wrist, his touch wholly clinical but it was like having a manacle of fire on her wrist. In shocked stupor Lissa found that she was looking at his mouth; remembering the cool strength of it against her own that morning. Something approaching faintness seemed to creep over her. She pulled away from him and tried to stand up, her legs refusing to support her properly.
‘Lissa?’
Joel got up too, concerned for her, his eyes, as they always did when he was worried darkening slightly. She knew so much about him now she thought hazily, shaking her head, and telling him that she was fine; little insignificant things she hadn’t even known she knew until now … like the way the dark hairs grew against his skin … the way his eyes changed colour, betraying him despite the control he seemed to have over his features. She could even faithfully recall the way he moved, simply by closing her eyes and picturing him. She was familiar with the masculine contours of his torso—at least visually. He wore pyjama bottoms in bed—for her benefit, she was sure, and she hadn’t realised until now how often she had silently studied the hard male lines of his body. Hot colour touched her skin, scorching it as her thoughts were scorching her mind.
‘I’ll go and make the coffee,’ she said hurriedly.
They had fallen into the habit of continuing the conversation begun over the dinner table through coffee and often until quite late in the evening. Joel was interesting to listen to, and he made Lissa feel that he valued her opinions. She had never enjoyed anyone’s company as much as she enjoyed his and it came to her as she busied herself in the kitchen that if he were to leave her life now, there would be an acutely painful void. But the fact that she found him good company and mentally stimulating did not account for her rapid pulse and accelerated breathing … neither did it account for the disturbing physical response she had just experienced. She wasn’t totally naive; she had felt physical desire before even if it had only been fleetingly. But this was different … this was Joel. She couldn’t desire Joel. Why not, an inner voice demanded to know? Why shouldn’t she desire him? Because … because … Because what? The same voice jeered. Because you’d convinced yourself you hated him? Because you resented the fact that as a teenager he found you totally uninteresting until the night of that party.
Lissa bit down hard on her bottom lip, trying to quell her rebellious thoughts. It was true, she was forced to acknowledge with painful honesty, that on the very brief occasions on which she had seen Joel before that night—and they had been fleeting in the extreme—she had been instantly struck by the masculine aura he carried about him. Amanda had caught her staring at him once with rounded eyes and had teased her about it.
‘For goodness sake don’t go and develop a crush on Joel,’ she had warned her. ‘He eats little girls like you for breakfast.’
Unwilling to follow her thoughts any further, Lissa made the coffee and carried it through into the sitting room. Joel was reading a farming magazine which he put down to take the tray from her, asking briefly, ‘Okay now?’
When Lissa nodded he added. ‘I’m sorry I missed the girls’ bedtime tonight. I’ll be glad when I’ve got the responsibility for the factory off my hands. I’ve been neglecting my own work recently … and I don’t intend to be just a figurehead in the girls’ lives—someone they hear about but rarely see. As my own father was to me,’ he added, surprising her with this information about his childhood.
‘Oh yes,’ he told her obviously reading her mind. ‘Like you, I was very much second best as far as my father was concerned. He and I never hit it off the way he and John did, although my childhood was nothing like as traumatic as yours.’
‘Mine was bad because I reacted too emotionally,’ Lissa told him. ‘I was too sensitive … too easily hurt and confused.’ She got up to pick up the sweater she was knitting for Louise, and as she did so, stumbled against Joel’s chair.
Instantly his hand shot out to steady her, his arm supporting her as she fell, so that somehow she ended up in his lap feeling both stupidly clumsy and flustered, but strangely enough with no desire to shrink away from him; with none of the tension she would have expected to feel.
‘Lissa?’
She looked at him automatically, smiling herself when she saw the amusement lightening his eyes and curling his mouth. ‘Do you suppose Louise is going to expect me to kiss you goodbye every morning?’ he asked her in a lazy drawl.
The teasing amusement in his voice was familiar to her and she responded to it relaxing in the half circle of his arm, shrugging easily.
‘Umm … well I suspect that she is,’ he continued softly, ‘and that being the case I definitely feel our technique could do with a little polishing.’
‘I …’ Whatever objection she had been about to make slid from her mind forever when Joel slid his fingers into her hair, their warmth spread across the back of her scalp, heating her skin, preventing her from moving; from avoiding the sensually slow downward movement of his head, as his lips feathered softly across her skin. First her temple, then the corner of her eye; the vulnerable hollow of her cheekbone where his breath against her ear, coupled with the slowly gentle movement of his fingers against her scalp, made her shiver with pleasure. With pleasure! Lissa acknowledged numbly, hearing him murmur her name and responding automatically to the sound of his voice so that she turned towards him unwittingly facilitating the warm glide of his mouth against her own.
She had been kissed before; and had even enjoyed those kisses, before she discovered the truth about herself, but this somehow was different. For a start no one had ever kissed her with such gentle thoroughness; such innate tenderness and yet somehow at the same time conveying that there was a potential within that tenderness for something deeper and far more dangerous. There was nothing intimidating or frightening about the way Joel’s mouth moved on hers, and yet her body was aware with a deep nerve-tingling frisson of awareness that if she were to signal that she desired it there could be much, much more.
And she did desire it, Lissa acknowledged inwardly … Unbelievably she was tempted to slide her arms round Joel’s neck and hold him closer, to press her body against his and feel it harden with masculine desire.
She wanted him to make love to her! Immediately she tensed and he let her go. Instinctively she veiled her eyes from him, frightened of what he might see in them; that he might guess what she was feeling. And what? she asked herself. Take advantage of it? Feel sorry for her? She scarcely knew which she disliked the most. Somehow she managed to scramble off his knee, and outside the inner turmoil of her thoughts she was aware of the sound of her own voice, high and tense, gabbling inanities about the time, desperately trying to provide a smokescreen for her to hide behind.
She knew that Joel was studying her, watching her with unnerving narrow eyed scrutiny. What was he thinking? Why had he kissed her? If it had just been a game then it had been a cruel one, and somehow unlike the man she knew him to be.
‘Lissa, sometimes I’ll have to kiss you,’ he said quietly at last. ‘It’s expected occasionally of married couples, even in these enlightened times.’
That drew a shaky smile from her, and he smiled too. ‘Surely it wasn’t so bad?’ There was a whimsical quality to his smile that relaxed her.
‘No, of course not.’ So that was it. Joel was just trying to accustom her to the social kisses they might have to exchange, but there had been a warm persuasiveness in the movement of his mouth against hers that had reminded her that he was a powerfully virile man and so she said awkwardly, ‘Joel … what will you do … what will happen …? You can’t live the rest of your life in celibacy,’ she managed at last.
‘Lissa, I’ve got so much on my mind at the moment that there just isn’t room for sexual frustration,’ he told her drily. ‘When there is …’ He shrugged and then said tight-lipped, ‘Well let’s just say I won’t burden you with it.’
THE NEXT MORNING Louise didn’t have to remind Joel to kiss her. He bent automatically an
d dropped a light caress on Lissa’s cheek as he got up from the table, and she told herself that it couldn’t possibly be disappointment that coursed through her at the lightness of that brief, preoccupied touch.
Joel was late coming home again. Louise pouted a little when she discovered that he wouldn’t be there to read her bedtime story, but eventually settled down. In fact Lissa was delighted with the way both little girls had adapted to their new environment. Whenever Louise mentioned her parents Lissa made a point of talking to her about them, encouraging her to keep their memory alive without touching on the tragedy of their death. Louise seemed to have accepted the fact that they were gone from her life in the physical sense, although sometimes she betrayed a tendency to cling to either Joel or herself, Lissa acknowledged.
At eight o’clock Joel rang to say that he was on his way home. He sounded tired and yet good humoured. ‘I’ve settled on someone for the Managing Directorship,’ he told her. ‘He starts next week.’
‘Louise will be pleased,’ Lissa told him. ‘She was complaining tonight because you weren’t here to read her story.’
Anyone listening to them would think them a long married couple, Lissa reflected when she replaced the receiver. But they were not married. Not in the real sense. What would Joel be like as a lover? Considerate, skilled, passionate …? Stop it she warned herself. Why was she continually exhibiting this desire to dance with danger … to flirt, even if it was only in the privacy of her own mind, with the idea of Joel as a lover?
Perhaps it was because the thought that he never would be piqued her interest. But it wasn’t pique alone that was responsible for the surge of physical awareness she felt whenever he was in the room.
She heard his car draw up as she was putting the final touches to their meal. He walked into the kitchen, surprising her with a brief kiss on her exposed nape, the way in which her bones turned to melting heat surprising her even more.
‘Champagne,’ he told her with a grin, showing her the bottle. ‘I thought we’d celebrate the end of my career with Hargreaves International.’
