by Penny Jordan
Re-read this classic romance by New York Times bestselling author Penny Jordan, previously published as Desire Never Changes in 1986
Ever since their passionate encounter, Somer’s dreams had been filled with the lean, tanned body of Chase Lorimer. She hadn’t been able to look at another man—even though she’d thought she’d never see Chase again.
Now, Chase is back, and this time he wants marriage—but on his terms. Somer has two choices: consent to be his convenient bride, or spend the rest of her life dreaming about him. Can she take a chance on the real thing…?
The Convenient Lorimer Wife
Penny Jordan
CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
CHAPTER ONE
‘SOMER, you’re sure you’ll be all right?’
‘Daddy, of course I will.’ Soft dimples showed briefly in the delicate, pale skin Somer had often been told was a true Celtic heritage, along with her fine black hair and eyes which changed from stormy grey to glowing amethyst, depending on her mood. Today they glowed an excited violet, her impatience with her father’s concern hastily suppressed as she tried to console him. It was barely three months since she had left school and come home to Scotland and her father was still very obviously bemused by her swift transition from girl-child to woman.
He had been concerned when she first told him that she and Andrew wanted to get engaged, pointing out that she was only eighteen and knew nothing of life. Much as her own mother must have been at the same age, Somer had countered resolutely, and yet she had been a mother at nineteen. Her father’s face had clouded when she mentioned her mother. It was ten years since she had died, and Somer’s baby brother with her, but Sir Duncan MacDonald had never married again. He had been just another poor Highland laird when he had married Catriona Sefton, but now he was a very wealthy man; a large shareholder in the North Sea’s privately owned Sefton oilfield, named after his wife, and although he didn’t communicate them to Somer, he had all a wealthy father’s fears for his only daughter. He sighed, looking at her, her small, heart-shaped face glowing with excitement and anticipation. Six months ago at Christmas he had been away in the Middle East on business and she had not been able to come home from school. Instead she had accepted an invitation to stay with a school-friend and her family on Jersey and it was there that she had met Andrew Hollister—had met him and fallen wildly in love with him.
Duncan MacDonald had not yet met his prospective son-in-law. Andrew was in hotel management and worked at an hotel in Jersey. He and Somer had corresponded when she went back to school and Somer had spent Easter with him, returning with the small solitaire engagement ring which she had worn ever since.
She had wanted to be married straight away but her father had prevailed upon her to wait at least until she was nineteen. Because she loved him she had agreed, and now as she waited to board her plane Somer glanced worriedly at him. Although he had not said so, she sensed that her father did not entirely approve of her engagement. She knew that he thought eighteen was too young to commit herself to marriage, but she knew how she felt about Andrew; knew that their love would last for ever. Her father had forgotten what it was like to be eighteen and so deeply in love that every second apart was unbearable agony. She glanced down at her engagement ring, watching the prisms of light thrown off by the small diamond, remembering how tenderly Andrew had kissed her finger as he slid it into place.
Boarding school had kept her rather more innocent than most girls her age; the only boys she had met prior to Andrew had been the brothers of school-friends, or boys from a neighbouring boys’ school. Andrew at twenty-four to her eighteen had dazzled her with his easy charm; his warm smile and the careless touch of his fingers against her skin, promising undreamed of delights and yet experienced enough to know that she wasn’t yet quite ready for the intimacies of lovers. They would wait until they were married, he had whispered at Easter, when his passionate kisses had made her take fright, and her heart had swelled with love and gratitude for his understanding.
But now her father was insisting that they wait until she was nineteen—nine long months away and during that time Andrew could be posted anywhere by his company. The first time they met he had told her of his hopes and plans for the future, unburdening himself to her in a way which had made her feel very grown up. Andrew wanted to own his own hotel, a luxurious Eden catering for the wealthy, preferably in the Caribbean, but he had a long way to go before he reached that goal, he had told Somer ruefully. He had been acting Assistant Manager at the Group’s Jersey hotel for nearly eighteen months and was hoping for an early promotion.
‘Just think, we could start our married life in Barbados,’ he had told Somer at Easter, and although she had been thrilled to hear him talk of their life together, there had been pain as well in the knowledge that a posting to Barbados would take her far away from the father she was only just beginning to know. On her return from school her father had suggested that she might care to act as his hostess. His position as head of Sefton Oil involved a great deal of business entertaining, of visiting other oil-producing countries and of entertaining overseas visitors in return, and after her first month at home which had been filled with apprehension and fear Somer had discovered that she actually enjoyed her new role and that she seemed to have a talent for it. Her father’s Aberdeen home was large and gracious and he employed an excellent cook-cum-housekeeper, Mrs McLeod, who had warmly welcomed Somer’s assistance.
‘There’s my flight now,’ Somer told her father, ‘I’d better go.’ She reached up, kissing his cheek. ‘Daddy, please stop worrying. I love Andrew and he loves me. Everything’s going to be fine.’
The smile he gave her was slightly strained, and he wondered what his daughter would say if she knew of the investigations he had had carried out on the man she loved. They had shown nothing to his detriment. He had no money apart from his salary, but there had been a time when Duncan MacDonald himself had been in that position and he was not the man to hold lack of wealth against another. He had enough money to support half a dozen sons-in-law. He moved closer to the barrier, intent on catching a final glimpse of Somer. Her heritage was all Celtic and there had been times after his wife’s death when he had worried about his delicately strung daughter, so quick to feel pain, both her own and that of others, but there was always that bedrock of MacDonald pride for her to fall back on; that grim resoluteness that acted as a counterweight to her Celtic mysticism. This was her heritage, and he could no more stop her from receiving it than he could hold back the tides.
Safely on board the plane taking her to Andrew, Somer had no inkling of the sombreness of her father’s thoughts. Named after Somerled, the great warrior Lord of the Isles, her mind was not on the past but firmly riveted on her golden future. Of course Andrew would be as disappointed as she was that they could not be married sooner. He had urged her to try to persuade her father to change his mind, but she knew he would understand that she felt that she could not do so. That was one of the things she most liked about Andrew. He was so understanding, so caring of other people’s views; he had even chided her gently when she had come close to losing her temper when her father had urged her not to marry straight away. ‘It’s only natural that he should want to keep you a little longer,’ he had told her with that whimsical smile of his that made her heart flutter so. ‘And I can afford to be generous. After all I’ll have you for the rest of our lives.’
Dear, darlin
g Andrew. She closed her eyes and lay back in her seat, slowly visualising him, her body trembling in anticipation of their reunion. She loved everything about him from the way his fair hair curled round his head to the hard compactness of his muscular body. It was true that he wasn’t quite as tall as her father. Duncan MacDonald was well over six foot while Andrew stopped just short of five foot ten, but since she herself was barely five four, it hardly mattered. Elfin was the way he described her, and a shiver of apprehension suddenly ran through her. She wasn’t particularly beautiful, not blonde or curvaceous; she lacked the self-possession of many of the other women Andrew knew. But it was her he loved, she reminded herself. As though to reassure herself that it wasn’t all a dream she glanced down at her ring, and then extracted a small mirror from her bag, quickly checking her make-up. She wondered if Andrew would notice and approve of the new way she was doing her eyes. Soft, muted shadows enhanced their violet depths, a discreet rimming of kohl adding to their air of mystery. Her skin was without blemish, flawless and very fair. Too fair, she often thought, certainly too fair to expose unwarily to the sun. She thought rebelliously of the tanned holidaymakers frequenting the hotel at Easter, and then reminded herself that she was the one Andrew wanted; that it was her long night-black hair that he preferred; her slender body and pale skin.
‘The trouble with you is that you just don’t make enough of yourself.’ That had been the criticism of Somer’s greatest friend at school, the same outward-going, pretty brunette who had introduced her to Andrew. She had gained in self-confidence since meeting Andrew, but she knew she still had a long way to go before she came anywhere near to achieving the same smooth sophisticated self-confidence possessed by say, Judith Barnes, the senior receptionist at Andrew’s hotel.
Judith was tall and blonde, with a heavy mane of hair that cascaded down on to her shoulders. Her face was always flawlessly made up, her clothes discreetly elegant. She had the sort of figure that men always gave a second glance, and Somer had sensed right from the start that Judith despised her, although she had no idea why. When she had tried tentatively to broach the subject with Andrew he had simply shrugged and laughed. ‘Judith’s a woman, little baby,’ he had teased her. ‘The sort of woman who’s only really interested in men.’
‘A man-eater.’ That was how her friend Claire had described the receptionist, and yet Somer had sensed a very real antipathy towards her personally, in the older girl’s manner, despite the politeness with which it was cloaked.
The flight to Jersey was only a short one, and it seemed to Somer that no sooner had she stepped on to the plane than she was stepping off into the bright July sunshine. Andrew had promised to meet her, but there was no sign of him by the time she had collected her luggage. She was just debating whether she ought to hire a taxi when a small white sports car came racing towards her, stopping with an impatient screech of tires only yards away.
When Judith Barnes stepped out, glamorous as always in a pair of dazzling white bermuda shorts and brief top in the same colour that clung to her curves and showed off her deep tan, Somer felt her heart plummet downwards. There would be no doubt that Judith had come to meet her and that she was impatient, it showed in every line of her elegant figure as she strode to where Somer was standing.
‘Look, there’s no hired help around here,’ she announced curtly as she indicated the open boot of her car. ‘The only way those cases are going to get back to the hotel is if you pick them up. I’ve done my bit coming to collect you and that’s only because Drew asked me to. What on earth have you brought with you?’ she added with arrogant amusement staring at the two large cases by Somer’s side. ‘A whole new wardrobe to bedazzle Drew?’ She laughed mockingly. ‘Hasn’t anyone ever told you that all you need is what nature gave you? Although I suppose in your case, she was a bit ungenerous.’
Cold blue eyes flicked from Somer’s neatly suit-clad figure to her own shapely body, and Somer felt a familiar clenching of muscles inside her which she dimly recognised as intense anger. Firmly dismissing it, she picked up one of her cases and carried it to the car, heaving it into the boot before returning for the other.
The drive to the hotel was a tense one. In addition to her disappointment that Andrew wasn’t able to collect her, Somer had to contend with her growing dislike of Judith. The road they took was narrow, as indeed were most of the island roads, and not built for high speeds, but despite this Judith insisted on driving well in excess of the limit, and on several occasions Somer was forced to clutch on to the side of the car as they screeched dangerously round a bend.
‘Scared?’ Judith mocked as she took the turn that led down to the Hermitage Hotel and its private beach. ‘Poor little scaredy-girl, how on earth are you going to keep Drew, if you’re scared of a little bit of speed? Little girls should stick to their own league,’ she added tauntingly.
Somer said nothing, unable to trust herself to speak without betraying the temper she could feel raging through her. ‘Never say anything in the first heat of anger,’ her father had once warned her. ‘It’s a common MacDonald failing, and one our clan has had to pay dearly for in the past. Always count to ten, always think about the repercussions of what you’re going to say.’
It had been good advice; she recognised that and so now she averted her face and concentrated on Andrew’s image, denying Judith the satisfaction of knowing that her barbs had hurt.
The hotel forecourt was full of cars, a sign that business was good, Somer assumed as she opened her door and swung out. The Hermitage hotel was one of the most prestigious on the island although quite small. In addition to the hotel, the Group also owned several acres of land around it and three small private beaches. At Easter Andrew had told her that had the hotel been his, he would have used the land to build small holiday cottages on the same luxurious lines as those favoured in the Caribbean, and she had applauded his eager enthusiasm for his job.
As she followed Judith to the main entrance, sounds of laughter and splashing water reached her from the outdoor pool area.
‘Here’s the key for your room,’ Judith announced ungraciously, walking behind the reception desk and removing a key which she handed to Somer, completely ignoring the other girl on reception—a newcomer since Somer’s last visit. ‘I’ll get someone to take your stuff up.’
The casual comment did not deceive Somer for one minute. She doubted that her cases would appear in her room until Judith was good and ready to see that they did so, and another frisson of anger shook through her. Scrupulously honest herself, Somer had insisted on booking into the hotel as a guest; her room was quite an expensive one, and she had been glad of the generous cheque her father had given her a month ago to cover the cost and allow her a little extra to refurbish her wardrobe, although wisely she had left beach clothes off her list knowing that she would find a dazzlingly attractive selection in St Helier. Now Judith was treating her much in the manner of a grand lady towards a lowly governess rather than an employee to a hotel guest, but both of them knew that Somer would not complain. Even so she found the courage to say coolly, ‘If you’ll just tell me where I can find Andrew, I’ll let him know that I’m here.’
‘He’ll be having his break,’ Judith responded just as coolly. ‘Guests aren’t allowed in staff quarters. I’ll leave a message for him when he comes back on duty.’
Sensing that to argue would simply demean herself, Somer took her key and walked towards the lift. Another guest was also waiting for it, a tall man dressed carelessly in faded, frayed shorts which had once been pale denim and were now bleached to a soft bluey grey by constant exposure to sun and salt. The rest of his body was bare and richly tanned and against her will Somer found her gaze drawn to the lean muscularity of it. Dark hair formed an aggressively masculine T-shape across his chest, tapering downwards to disappear beneath the faded denims.
A small sound that could have been either derision or amusement jerked her head back, the shock of cool green eyes smoothly sliding the
length of her body in sensual assessment that was far more comprehensive and swift than her own bashful study of his body, jolting her into a blushing awareness that the lift had arrived and that he was waiting for her to precede him into it.
The moment the lift door closed she felt uncomfortable with their enforced intimacy. What was the matter with her, she chided herself mentally. The man lounging so easily beside her was far too physically compelling, far too masculinely attractive to need to attack women in lifts to get his sexual satisfaction. A brief darted glance at him confirmed her earlier impression of languid indolence. If she hadn’t stared so foolishly at him outside the lift he would probably never even have noticed her. She had brought his brief, sexual appraisal of her down on her own shoulders.
Instinctively she knew that he was a man who would always respond to female sexuality; that he was one of those men who possess a seventh sense that enables them to tune in to a woman’s response to them. He was the kind of man she could imagine appealing to the Judiths of this world. Undoubtedly sexually skilled and knowledgeable, and yet possessed of a certain basic raw masculinity that meant that despite that skill there would always be an element of subjugation that would always make him the possessor of a woman’s body; the wholly dominant male.
Without knowing why she found herself taking a pace back, as though somehow he threatened her, even though he hadn’t so much as moved. She could sense that he was watching her, assessing her with those incredible jade eyes, the hard-boned masculine face no doubt making no secret of his amusement at her gauche reaction.
When the lift stopped at her floor she heaved a faint sigh of relief, quickly checked when he stepped out of it behind her. The corridor seemed to stretch endlessly in front of her, her legs suddenly as shaky and unsupportive as a newly born colt’s. So aware was she of his presence that she could almost feel the heat of his body against her back, wrapping her in sensual awareness, almost suffocating her, her mind a jumble of confused impressions. She found her door, and then dropped her key as she tried to insert it in the lock, tensing as she felt him stop behind her and retrieve it for her, easily sliding it into place.
