She shot a look at him from under her eyelashes. ‘Isn’t it?’
‘You cashed the cheque the day after you got it,’ Zavier pointed out. ‘What you spent it on is your business, so long as it was within the confines—’
‘Of the contract.’ She finished the sentence for him. ‘It was.’
‘Fine,’ he snapped. ‘So unless you come up with the money by tomorrow you owe me, Miss Reece, big time. The contract still stands.’ The anger left him then, and, propping himself on his elbow, Zavier looked at her thoughtfully. ‘Any other little gems you want to toss at me? Any other truths you’d like to share while we’re being so open?’
His voice was laced with sarcasm. Tabitha managed a brief shake of her head, biting on her lips to stop the tears.
‘So nothing’s changed, then?’
‘I guess.’ Her long fingers were dragging through the sand, drawing endless swirling circles in the virgin smoothness.
He watched her, his eyes slowly dragging the length of her body. Her toes were still painted the same shade of coral they had been at the wedding. Her legs were slender and long, pale freckles skimming the translucent skin, her thighs toned yet soft on the underside. The same legs that had been wrapped around him; the same legs that had pulled him closer, driving him on, pulling him deeper. Suddenly Zavier was hit in the groin with a burning longing, and the searing memory of the soft warm flesh against his skin was so vivid his hand unthinkingly crept closer, his fingers absently stroking the soft marshmallow of her thigh, the need to feel her, to touch her, surpassing all logic.
Tabitha turned abruptly. She had been lost in her own world, oblivious of his mental lovemaking, but as his fingers made contact she jumped, her body tremulous, shocked eyes widening despite the glare of the sun, her pupils constricting against the bright light till the pools of calcite seemed bigger than the ocean.
‘What are you doing?’ It was a pointless question, one that didn’t merit an answer, and he rolled towards her, pinning her to the soft beach, a quilt of flesh and muscle bearing down, burying her with hot needy kisses that almost drowned out reason.
Almost.
With a sob of frustration, of anger, she wriggled away, the tears that had threatened dangerously close now. ‘You’ve just told me you don’t care about me, just sweetly reiterated that this is business, and now you have the gall to kiss me, to touch me. This isn’t just business, Zavier, and you know it as well as I do…’
He gave a low laugh. ‘This is the pleasure. I never said we couldn’t mix the two. In fact you signed yourself up for it, remember…’
In one lithe movement she pulled herself up, but he was too quick for her, grabbing at her ankle. He held his hand there in a vice-like grip as she stood, and when he was sure she wasn’t about to make a bolt, when the rigid muscles relaxed slightly, he loosened his grip, working his hand slowly up the length of her freckled leg, toying with the top of her shorts. She felt her groin contract, a bubble of moisture welling between her legs.
‘This was very much a part of the deal…’
She stared back at him for the longest time. The fact she wanted him was a given, and to deny it would be a lie, but right here, right now, she also hated him. She had told him about her grandmother, her darkest secret, her deepest pain, and he hadn’t even graced her with a decent response. She had been right not to tell him of her love, Tabitha acknowledged with relief, and until that ring was safely on her finger she had to be sure he didn’t realise her truth.
‘You think this is pleasurable?’ Her voice was steady, her lips white, and she stared down at his hand with a sneer. ‘You think I’m enjoying this?’
For the first time she saw a flicker of doubt in his eyes, felt his grip loosen on her ankle. Freeing her leg, she shook her head ruefully. ‘You think you’re such a bigshot? Well, I’ve got news for you. It’s business for me too. The only pleasure I get from you is cashing your cheques.’
‘You want me as much as I want you.’ The words were assured, his voice laced with his usual haughty tones, but she knew she had thrown him; that tiny flicker of doubt still darted in his eyes.
‘You once accused me of being a good actress, Zavier. Perhaps for once you actually read me right.’ And, turning on her heel, she ran the length of the beach, not once looking back, determined he would never see the tears that coursed down her cheeks or hear the sobs that rasped from her lungs.
She knew, had she stayed one moment longer, he would have seen the truth in her eyes.
CHAPTER TEN
‘HERE they are,’ Marjory gushed as they stepped out onto the patio. ‘We were just about to send out a search party. How long does it take to get changed for lunch?’
‘Sorry.’ Reaching over, Tabitha planted a long kiss on Zavier’s rather taut cheek, determined to keep up the act despite the most unwilling partner. ‘I take full responsibility—don’t I, darling?’
Marjory’s giggles in no way made up for the black look Zavier threw at her, or the visible wince as her lip brushed his cheek, as if her touch was more than he could stomach.
‘Where’s Jeremy?’
‘Oh, Jeremy’s gone for a siesta—probably conserving his energy for tonight’s dinner. He’s not a fan of the sun—not now, anyway.’
A glass of something long, cold and delicious appeared in front of her and Tabitha took a grateful sip. Only the smarting of her eyes and the warm feeling as it reached her stomach told Tabitha that the drink wasn’t as harmless as it looked.
Lunch was hell. The man who sat beside her on the patio was positively brimming with anger, not a trace of indigo in the black coal chips of his eyes. Of course the fruity little number Aiden and Marjory were knocking back meant that his sarcastic comments, his biting repartee and dark looks for the most part went unnoticed.
If ever Zavier had been foreboding, brooding, unnerving, to date it had only been a dress rehearsal. The row that had ensued back at the house had been of such humongous proportions it would probably rate a mention on the six o’clock news, somewhere between nuclear missile heads and urban warfare.
And in a perverse sort of way Tabitha had enjoyed it.
Enjoyed the confirmation that Zavier Chambers wasn’t completely unflappable, that underneath that ruthless, pitiless shield beat a mortal heart, and questioning his sexual prowess made it bleed. Of course the fact that he was more of a lover than Tabitha had ever imagined, that the very thought of him made her toes curl in anticipation, didn’t even rate a mention; why ruin a good thing? Zavier’s fury she could almost deal with; it was the truth that could hurt her the most.
By the time lunch was over Aiden had long-ago given up on the fruity number and had worked his way down the neck of a bottle of Scotch—which left more for Marjory. Only Zavier carried on with his mineral water, his eyes never leaving Tabitha, making her acutely aware of her every movement, making every delicately prepared mouthful like sandpaper in her throat.
‘This time tomorrow you’ll be husband and wife.’ Marjory beamed, pushing her untouched dessert aside and signalling for a refill. ‘I bet you’re so excited, Tabitha.’
‘I wouldn’t bet on it,’ Zavier drawled. ‘Apparently looks can be deceiving—can’t they, darling?’
Fortunately his below-the-belt black humour was far too subtle for his family, who carried on smiling as Tabitha slid further into her seat.
‘Well, I don’t know about you lot—’ Marjory’s voice seemed to be coming at her through a thick fog ‘—but I’m going to work off my excesses in the pool. Won’t you join me, Tabitha?’
‘I’d love to, Marjory,’ Tabitha answered in a falsely bright voice as she replaced her napkin on the table with a slightly shaking hand. ‘But I’ll just watch from the poolside for now. I’ve eaten so much I’d no doubt sink like a stone if I ventured in the water.’
Thankfully, Marjory’s plans to work off her lunch weren’t quite so energetic as they had initially sounded. Flopping onto a huge sunbed, she snapped her
fingers impatiently at one of the staff and they brought over yet another tray of drinks. Tabitha shook her head as the tray passed her. ‘Not for me, thanks. I’d love a mineral water, though, please.’
‘You sound like Zavier—him and his water. Come on, Tabitha, have a proper drink.’
‘I’d rather not.’ A loose tongue was the last thing she needed at the moment. ‘I’m not a big drinker, especially during the day. And anyway, I want to look my best for the wedding.’
That seemed good enough for Marjory, and she smiled affectionately as Tabitha slipped out of her dress down to her skimpy yellow bikini—four triangles and shoelaces really—painfully aware of Zavier removing his shorts and T-shirt, every hair on his body, every glistening toned muscle seeming to taunt her with its beauty.
‘Do you fancy a swim?’
Mute, she shook her head, remembering the last time he had undressed in front of her. She felt his eyes skim over her and dared to dream he was remembering the same.
The two women watched in amicable silence as Zavier dived into the vast pool in one lithe motion, streaming through the water, his muscular body hardly making a ripple as he parted it. There was no way on earth she’d get in now, Tabitha decided. Her doggy paddle was nowhere near his élite level, and there was far more chance of looking graceful on land than thrashing about in the water.
‘Don’t let Zavier’s mood upset you.’ Tabitha looked across startled, surprised Marjory had even noticed. Marjory was carefully examining her face in a large hand mirror while simultaneously smearing vast quantities of sunscreen around her eyes and over her décolletage. ‘He’s just worried about his father.’
Tabitha didn’t answer. No doubt Zavier was worried about Jeremy’s increasingly fragile health, but she knew his black mood was due to a rather more basic problem.
‘We’re so glad he found you,’ Marjory continued, her eyes never once leaving the mirror. ‘I know how difficult he can be, and to be honest we were worried for him.’
‘In what way?’ She was treading on dangerous water here; insights into Zavier weren’t part of the deal, but they were way too tempting to pass up.
‘Well, he’s so exacting. It’s all black and white to him. You know about Louise, I presume?’
Tabitha nodded. ‘The girl he was engaged to?’
‘Lovely thing—though not as gorgeous as you, of course. She even managed to loosen him up a bit—you know, get him out of a tie on weekends and things. They’d have been so happy, but she messed it up, the silly girl—got too greedy. The day Louise came home with that prenuptial agreement it was all over bar the shouting. He’d never admit it in a million years but she really hurt him.’
‘No wonder,’ Tabitha responded thoughtfully. ‘It’s hard enough finding someone to spend the rest of your life with without being filthy rich and wondering if they’re just with you for your money.’
‘Oh, please, Tabitha, money matters. As much as I adore Jeremy, I wouldn’t have given him a second glance if he weren’t wealthy. Life’s hard enough without worrying about money.’
Tabitha blinked a couple of times; even though Zavier had told her, she was utterly stunned at the blatancy of Marjory’s revelation.
‘But you seem so in love.’
‘We are,’ Marjory tinkled. ‘I’m merely saying our relationship would have been a complete non-starter if Jeremy hadn’t a bean to his name. Come on, Tabitha, are you honestly telling me that Zavier’s money doesn’t influence you in the slightest?’
It was a strange question—and, given the fact it was coming from Zavier’s own mother, even more confusing. No wonder he was so mistrusting. She had thought Zavier was being his delightful cynical self when he had said that Marjory was with Jeremy for the money, but here she was, openly admitting that money came first and love a poor second.
‘I…’ Tabitha didn’t know how she could answer. After all, money was the only thing binding her and Zavier; it was money that had brought them to the eve of their wedding.
And it was money that would end it.
Tabitha pondered before answering. Dreaming for a moment the impossible dream, dreaming that Zavier loved her. She knew one thing for sure: if he lost everything it wouldn’t matter a scrap so long as they had each other. Broiled on the passion of her imagination, Tabitha was at least able to answer the question with conviction.
‘Money shouldn’t come into it. Marriage should be about love, taking the good times with the bad, leaning on each other, growing together…’
The slow handclap resounding behind her made Tabitha stop in full flood.
‘Bravo.’ Dripping, he sat on the sunbed next to her. ‘Did you hear that, Mum? Doesn’t that little speech restore your faith in the human race?’
‘Gorgeous, isn’t she?’ Marjory agreed sleepily as she lay back and closed her eyes, totally missing the venom behind his words, oblivious of the scorn in her son’s eyes. ‘Darling, put some oil on Tabitha. That fair skin of hers is going quite pink already. We can’t have her looking burnt for tomorrow.’
‘I can manage myself.’ Hastily Tabitha reached for the bottle, but Zavier was too quick for her.
‘Don’t be silly. You’re as red as a beetroot. Lie down.’
Without making a scene Tabitha was left with no choice but to do as she was told. Her eyes met his; swallowing nervously, she stared at him like a rabbit caught in headlights. He seemed to sense her fear, and the malicious glint in his eye evaporated, the dewy hues of lust softening the black weight of his stare.
‘Lie down,’ he repeated, but this time his voice came out in a husky caress.
Nervously her eyes darted to Marjory; she was sure she must surely sense the crackling sexual tension. But Marjory was dozing, soft snores coming from her slack lips, and with the tiniest nod of acceptance Tabitha rolled onto her stomach, holding her breath as he fiddled with the gold clasp of her bikini.
The oil was already warm from the hot Australian sun, and as he squeezed it onto her skin the chill she had anticipated didn’t eventuate; instead she lay there as the slippery moisture seeped onto her back, jumping only when his cool wet hands came into contact with her rosy skin, or the occasional drop of pool water dripped from his hair onto her taut back.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘I’m a bit sore,’ she lied. She damn well wasn’t going to tell him just his mere touch had such a strong effect on her.
‘Silly girl.’ His voice was a velvet whisper. ‘With skin like yours you shouldn’t be out unprotected in the sun.’
The sun was the least of her worries at the moment! As his skilful hands massaged in the oil Tabitha had to remind herself to breathe. Her stomach knotted as they moved slowly across her shoulders. She could feel her nipples hardening, jutting into the sunbed like soldiers standing to attention; a pulse was flickering between her thighs, her blood running like mercury towards her groin. With one hand still on her back, he squeezed the bottle onto her left thigh and the oil, melting in the heat, ran like a river between her legs.
Almost faint with longing, she felt his hand touch her sun-kissed legs, his fingers working in small circular motions, moving higher, ever higher. Only a gentle snore from Marjory broke the oppressive silence, and Tabitha lay there, grinding her teeth together to hold back the groan in her throat.
Zavier might just as well have been massaging accelerant into her skin; one tiny spark and surely her body would explode in flames. It took a superhuman effort to lie there and for all the world appear detached, to pretend that it wasn’t the man she loved massaging her so skilfully.
‘That should keep the rays off.’
She felt the sunbed lift as he stood up, and she waited, waited for the sensations overpowering her to abate, for the burning, aching longing he had initiated to subside. But it didn’t.
She lay there another ten minutes or so, her eyes tightly shut, feigning sleep. But she knew Zavier wasn’t fooled, that he was more than aware of the passion he had awoken.
‘It’s too warm for me,’ Tabitha said finally, when she could take it no more. Standing, she grabbed at a towel, pulling it around her so he wouldn’t see her swollen nipples, the arousal he had instigated. ‘I’m going inside.’
‘Why?’ His voice was low but she could hear the mirth in it. ‘Things are only just starting to hot up.’
Oh, the bliss of the icy cool water as she splashed her face then rested her face against the tiles. Tabitha fought the image of his hands on her body, the sheen of lust in his expressive eyes. How could one man have such a hold on her? How could one man turn her world around like this? Why did Zavier Chambers have this effect on her?
Because she loved him.
The answer was as simple as it was complicated. Lust, passion, power—they all played their part. But this was good old-fashioned love. She had loved him from the moment she had laid eyes on him in the church. She loved everything about him.
But Zavier Chambers despised her; he thought she was the worst kind of woman. The pain of that thought was enough to calm her twitching body, enough to temper the wild thoughts that were cascading through her mind.
Peeling off her bikini top, she fiddled with the shower control before catching her reflection in the mirror. Tabitha gazed back at her own glittering eyes, searching for an answer to the impossible conundrum.
‘You’ve only yourself to blame,’ she said darkly to her image. ‘You’ve only got yourself to blame for all this.’
‘My thoughts exactly.’
Jumping with shock, she saw the dark brooding reflection of Zavier standing in the bathroom doorway.
‘How long have you been there?’ Her eyes were glittering now, with anger and embarrassment. ‘How long have you been watching me?’
Zavier laughed, but there was no warmth in it. ‘Don’t worry—I don’t need to get my kicks peering through a keyhole. Why would I?’ He crossed the bathroom slowly and she shrank back against the sink. ‘When we both know I can have you any time I want.’
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