Yes, it had been as easy as that. She only had to dangle the bait and he had been instantly hooked. And now here they were, three days later, taking a flight to Nassau, the capital of the Bahamas, with two models, the photographer, his assistant, and a hairdresser-cum- make-up artist. Plus of course a whole large suitcase full of Panache swimwear and sportswear in the cargo hold. And back in London her stockbroker was negotiating to buy at least another sixteen per cent of Masterad shares, which would give her exactly the same holding as Heath himself now held.
The thought brought a smile to her lips, and Heath put his hand over hers on the armrest between them, saying, 'You look happier already.'
'Do I?' She gave an amused laugh, thinking just how mistaken he was. 'It must be the thought of all that sunshine. I can't wait to get on a beach and sunbathe!'
The take-off was smooth and easy and the stewardess soon brought round drinks and the menus for dinner. Heath had brought a briefcase stuffed with work with him and settled down to do it, while Zara leaned back in her seat and watched him mockingly. 'You ought to learn to delegate,' she told him.
He grinned and turned to her, his eyes darkening as they ran over her. 'Once this lot is out of the way my time will be my own—and yours,' he added meaningfully.
So Heath worked most of the time as they flew over the ocean below them, stopping only to eat, giving all his attention to the task. As Zara lay back in her seat, glancing through a fashion magazine, her eyes often strayed to his intent profile. He was so self-possessed, so sure of himself. But then he always had been. She wondered how he would react when he realised that she had deliberately set out to ruin him. He would be angry, she was sure, furiously angry, and for a moment Zara felt a lick of fear. But then she remembered the way he had walked out on her, only to take it for granted that she would once more fall into his arms the moment he came back into her life. Just as if nothing had happened.
Zara looked away into the brilliant blue of cloudless sky outside. Maybe all the unhappiness that she had gone through in her marriage hadn't been directly Heath's fault, but he had most certainly been responsible for the bitterness that had changed her character and driven her into it. And she was determined to make him pay for the cold-blooded way he had treated her.
They landed in the Bahamas late in the afternoon, and took a mini-bus to a hotel on Paradise Island, a small island to the north of Nassau given completely over to tourism and reached from the main town by a toll bridge. Nassau seemed a strange mixture of traditionalism and commercialism; the traffic all drove on the left-hand side of the road as it did in Britain, but the cars were all large, American models. Some of the buildings in the town were old colonial style, but once out of town there were big new hotels and developments everywhere.
Their hotel was situated on Paradise Beach, a long, curving stretch of palm-fringed white sand with the sound of waves breaking on the shore a perpetual rhythm in the background. After the cold of London it was heaven and, like the two models, Zara couldn't wait to get to her room to change into lighter clothes. They all had single rooms on the same floor with balconies overlooking the sea, Zara not having made any attempt to get a better room for either herself or Heath. But as it was, the room she had been given was perfectly adequate, with its own bathroom of course and a much larger than average single bed—almost a double, in fact. After taking off her coat, Zara went straight to the full-length window, pushed open the door and stepped on to the balcony, revelling in the warmth that was still in the air although it was early evening.
'Great, isn't it?'
She turned and saw that Heath had come out on to the balcony to the left of her own. 'It certainly is,' she agreed fervently. 'You don't realise how much you miss the sun until you come to it suddenly like this.' Lifting her face towards the glowing horizon, Zara closed her eyes, feeling the warmth on her skin, the light breeze from the sea lifting loose strands of her hair. Her lips parted a little in voluptuous contentment as she stood there for a couple of minutes just soaking up the sun, completely unaware of how sensuous she looked until she turned to go in and saw the naked flame of desire in Heath's eyes.
It was so intense that she gave a little gasp of surprise and recognition, her eyes widening.
'Zara…' Heath reached his hand out to her across the concrete wall dividing the balconies, but she stepped back, her hands close to her body protectively, then quickly turned and went back into her room.
The seven of them met again for dinner, sharing a table in the large hotel restaurant that overlooked the sea. Zara took good care that she sat at the opposite end from Heath, but those few seconds on the balcony seemed to have brought to the surface emotions that he had kept under tight control before. She was aware of his eyes on her and felt her own irresistibly drawn towards him, so that their glances often locked before Zara hastily looked away again, her heart beating painfully. One of the models, Gemma, a tall brunette chosen for her athletic figure, was sitting next to Heath and doing her best to amuse and captivate him, but she was wasting her time and soon realised it. She looked from him to Zara and shrugged her shoulders with a rather resentful grimace, then turned to devote herself to the good-looking young photographer's assistant on her other side who doubled as the male model when one was needed.
After dinner they all strolled down to the beach so that the photographer could get some idea of the shots he wanted to take in the morning. He was very enthusiastic and full of ideas. 'Of course the light out here is very strong,' he told Zara. 'I'll have to experiment a bit, but I can't help but get some good shots with the beach and the palm trees.'
He wanted to walk to Pirates' Cove, the next beach along, but the make-up girl reminded him that if the models didn't go to bed they would probably suffer from jet-lag and show it the next morning, so they went back to the hotel, saying a general goodnight as they separated to go to their rooms. But Heath and Zara's rooms were round a bend in the corridor from the others and when they reached it and were out of sight, he caught her arm. 'Zara, we have to talk. I…'
'No!' She bit her lip. 'Please, Heath, not tonight. I'm tired and I…' Her voice faded as she looked into his lean and hungry face.
'Are you? Or are you just making excuses because you're afraid?' Taking her key from her resistless hands, he opened the door of her room and led her inside. He closed the door behind them, but the room was flooded by moonlight and he didn't bother to turn on the light. Zara leant against the wall, time seeming to stand still as she waited for him to turn and take her in his arms, to gaze into her wide, staring eyes for a long moment, and then to breathe her name against her lips before he kissed her in fierce, urgent need, his body pressing against hers as passion rose like a volcano between them.
For a few moments Zara was so overwhelmed by the strength of his embrace that she succumbed to it completely, his arrant masculinity dominating her senses until she drowned in sensuality, lost to everything but his kiss. It was only when his lips left hers to kiss her eyes, her cheek, her neck, and his hands began to move over her, that Zara regained some fraction of rational thought and made a movement of protest, putting her hands against his chest and trying to push him away.
But he said, 'Yes,' fiercely and pulled her close to him, his arms holding her against the thrusting hardness of his body. 'I want you, Zara,' he said urgently, his lips hot on the skin of her throat. 'I want to take you to bed and make love to you. To look at your lovely body and feel your skin against mine. I want…'
'Stop it! Get away from me!' With a strength magnified by anger, Zara shook herself free and pushed him violently away. Her hand went to the light switch and she clicked it on, chasing away the soft shadows of moonlight in its harsh glare.
Heath stood a couple of feet away from her, his hands doubled into white-knuckled fists, his square jaw thrust forward angrily as he glared at her. 'Now what ?' he demanded tersely.
'I told you I didn't want this. I'm tired and I…'
'No, you're not. A
nd you want it as much as I do. But every time I kiss you you start to respond and then fight me off.'
'It's because you go too fast for me. You don't give me time to—to…'
'Rubbish!' Stepping forward, Heath put his hand under her jaw, lifting her head up so that he could look down into her face. 'You like it when I kiss you. Don't you?' She didn't answer, so he pressed his mouth against hers forcefully, holding her prisoner under his lips. 'Don't you?' he insisted again.
Slowly Zara opened her eyes, unwilling to admit even that much, so she stayed silent, looking up at him resentfully.
'Yes,' Heath said softly, his gaze fixed intently on her face, 'your eyes give you away. You can't disguise the need in them any more than I can. You have such beautiful, expressive eyes, Zara. I always did love your eyes, and they were one of the first things that attracted me to you all those years ago.' He felt her stiffen and frowned down into her face. 'Now what did I say to make you angry, I wonder?'
Scenting danger, she moved away from him into the middle of the room so that he couldn't see her face. 'I'm not angry. But I—yes, I suppose I am a little afraid of you.'
Coming up behind her, Heath put his hands on her bare shoulders. 'You have no need to be.'
'Don't I?' She gave a shaky laugh. 'You're quite a fast worker, you know.'
He moved his hands down her arms, gently stroking them as he said, 'If you're so afraid of me, why did you ask me to come along on this trip?'
Thinking fast, and trying to ignore the sensuality of his touch, Zara answered jerkily, 'You said—you said you wanted us to get to know each other again. So I thought that—that this might be a good opportunity. But I can't… I don't…' Stepping away from him, she was able to think straight and said, 'I'm not ready to commit myself yet, Heath.' She looked at him pleadingly. 'You do understand?'
'No, not entirely. Is it just me you're afraid of—or all men ?' He came nearer and stood looking down at her intently. 'Did you—commit yourself, as you put it—to Richard, for example?' Zara went to turn away, but he caught her arm. 'Well? Did you?' he demanded.
She looked angrily at his hand on her arm and opened her mouth to tell him to mind his own business, but his face was so urgently intense that the words died and she slowly shook her head. 'No,' she admitted dully.
Slowly Heath drew her to him. 'Or anyone else— since your marriage?'
'Please, Heath, I really don't want to talk about this. I…'
'But we must,' he insisted. 'Can't you see that ? How can we ever get close to each other when you shrink away every time I touch you? But if you tell me why you're afraid then maybe we'll be able to work something out. At the very least, I'll understand why.' Putting a finger under her chin, he tilted her head so she had to look at him. 'So tell me, Zara—has there been anyone else since your husband?'
Her eyes shadowed and grew dark. There was no way she was going to tell him the whole truth, but some of it wouldn't matter—and it would gain time which was what she needed. So, her voice husky, she moved away from him and said, 'I tried. More than once. I—I was pretty desperate afterwards, you see. But—but it just never worked out. It was never right. And I couldn't—I couldn't feel anything.'
'Oh, my poor sweetheart!' Coming behind her again, Heath put his arms round her waist and held her against him. 'Was it so bad—with your husband?'
Zara stiffened and her voice grew bitter. 'Yes, it was bad,' she answered shortly. Her voice broke and suddenly she was telling him far more than she had ever intended. 'It was hell. Every time he touched me it was hell! I wanted to curl up and die.' She began to shake uncontrollably, her eyes wide and staring as she remembered.
'It's all right. Zara darling, it's all right.' Putting his arms round her, Heath turned her to face him and held her trembling body close, murmuring words of comfort and endearment.
Zara let the words roll over her, the tone of his voice and the strength of his arms creating a circle of protectiveness around her, a haven in which she could hide and feel safe. She had never spoken of what she had gone through before, had always kept it bottled up inside, and it had come as an emotional shock to speak of it now—and to Heath of all men. But although her body trembled in genuine distress, Zara didn't cry. She hadn't cried for a long, long time, not since Heath had deserted her. All that Christopher did to hurt her afterwards she had accepted with stoic fortitude, an attitude that had enraged Christopher and driven him to hurt her even more, to make her cry out in pain if nothing else. But she had never cried, even then, because nothing Christopher could do to her had hurt as much as Heath's abandonment. She had loved him so much. So much.
The trembling gradually stopped and she stood still and quiet in his arms. He was stroking her gently, like a child, but somehow, unconsciously, his touch subtly changed and they both became sexually aware of each other again. His hands were no longer soothing, instead becoming softly insinuating, sending a thrill of sensuality licking through her veins. Immediately Zara tried to move away, but Heath held her still. 'Don't be afraid,' he said softly. 'Don't ever be afraid of me.' He turned off the light and kissed her gently, first on her closed eyelids, then along her cheekbone, down to her chin and neck.
That was all right, Zara could stand that, she could even stand it when he nibbled her ear and moved on to explore her mouth with his tongue. But when his hands went to the thin straps of her dress and began to pull them down, she began to quiver again, making a sound of protest under his mouth.
'No, stand still. I'm not going to hurt you.'
His insistent hands went on pulling at the straps until the dress slipped down to her waist. Zara closed her eyes tightly but knew he was looking at her. 'You're beautiful,' Heath said softly. 'So lovely.'
She gasped as his hands began to explore her and she instinctively shrank away from his touch. But Heath persisted, his sensitive fingers handling her gently, his touch feather-light as he stroked and caressed her. All the while he gently kissed her face, murmuring endearments as he did so, telling her to relax, to take it easy. The nerves in her breasts came alive as he touched her. She could feel no other part of her body, only there. Her nipples felt as if they were on fire with heat and her breasts swollen and heavy. Where he fondled her they tingled, sending sparks of unbearable yearning seething through her body.
Sudden desire overcame her and she threw back her head, moaning as her nipples hardened and her breasts thrust towards him. Her breath came in short, gasping bursts as Heath went on caressing her, his touch firmer now that he knew she was aroused. And presently he put his hands on her arms, holding her still as he bent to kiss her breasts.
'No!' At first she tried to struggle, but his grip tightened, his fingers like steel bands that held her prisoner as he kissed her. His lips drove her mad, sucking and pulling at her already sensitive nipples until she cried out, unable to take any more, her body craving fulfilment, craving love.
When she began to writhe, Heath straightened up and held her close, her head on his shoulder. Zara stood trembling in his arms, her body so heated that she could taste her own sweat on her lips. 'You're a beautiful, sexual woman, Zara,' Heath said softly in her ear. 'You were made for love. And you want to be loved, don't you?' She stiffened a little, but he stood away from her and then turned her so that she could see her reflection in the full-length mirror on the wall.
The moon was still out and she could see herself quite clearly in its soft silver light. The moon accentuated the fine angles of her taut face, her eyes wide and dark with need and her lips still parted in desire. Her hair was a dishevelled halo around her head, little tendrils of it clinging to her damp face. She could see, too, the soft curve of her breasts, firm and proud with the velvet elasticity of youth, the nipples dark roses that were still hard from Heath's caresses.
'You see?' he said huskily as he came behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. 'You're ripe for love, Zara.' Putting his hands under her arms, he cupped her breasts and began to caress them again. 'Op
en your eyes,' he ordered, his own on her reflection in the mirror.
'I—I can't.'
'Yes, you can. Open them, my darling. Look in the mirror. Watch.' Slowly, reluctantly she obeyed him, her eyes going to his hands as he began to fondle her again. It was the most sexual experience she had ever known—to stand and watch him touch her half-naked body, to see the skilled way he caressed her to give the maximum of pleasure. And to himself as well, for she could feel the growing tension in his body as she leaned back against him, her hips moving in voluptuous, aching frustration and need.
Inadvertently his fingers tightened on her in passion, but it acted like a warning bell in Zara's mind and she jerked free of his hold, quickly pulling her dress back on her shoulders.
Heath automatically reached out for her, but then drew back. He smiled ruefully. 'Sorry—I'm afraid I got a little carried away. You all right? I didn't hurt you, did I?'
'No. But—but I think you'd better go.'
'All right.' Coming over to her, he put his arms round her waist. 'Well, at least you didn't shrink away this time, so maybe we're getting somewhere.' He kissed her on the tip of her nose, smiling down at her. 'Maybe you even liked what we did tonight?'
'M-maybe.' He raised a quizzical eybrow so that she flushed and admitted, 'You know I did.'
'Yes.' Picking up her hand, Heath kissed her fingers. 'But it's good to hear you say it. Good to know that you're beginning to trust me.'
'Trust you?' Suddenly reality came flooding back and she wanted to strike out at him for his unbearable self-confidence, to tell him just what a fool she was making of him. But it was too soon for that, she must wait and hold him at arm's length a little longer. So instead she yawned and then laughed. 'Oh, I'm sorry. I think the time difference has suddenly hit me. I can hardly keep my eyes open!'
'Go to bed, then, sweetheart. I'll see you tomorrow.' Heath grinned. 'Unless of course you'd like me to put you to bed.'
Zara's breath caught, but she laughed shakily and said, Thanks, but I think I'd better manage that for myself.'
Passionate Revenge Page 11
