How dare he treat her like this?
She pushed him, dismayed when he didn’t budge.
Her legs might be trembling, but her chin came up.
‘Let me go,’ she whispered.
Time seemed to stand still before he thrust her away as if she’d burned him. Becca staggered as he turned and stalked out of the bathroom. She nearly jumped out of her skin as the bedroom door slammed like a gunshot.
Scrubbing hot tears from her cheeks Becca wondered what on earth she was going to do.
She towel dried her hair before dragging a comb through it so hard it brought fresh tears to her eyes. No crying. It changed nothing.
For two years she’d held it together. Managed to lock grief into that dark place in her psyche. She’d thrown herself into working ten or even twelve hour days.
But cracks had appeared in her facade when she least expected it. Her behaviour was becoming erratic she realised now. The pressure was getting to her, the stress of delivering to strict creative deadlines again and again like a hamster on a wheel going nowhere fast was taking its toll.
Last night had been her first night out since... The ache in her heart was a physical agony she simply couldn’t ignore. But she wouldn’t think about it. The main thing was to get out of here in one piece and she still had to get past a very angry Lucas.
How could she tell a stranger something she still battled to come to terms with herself? She knew it simply wasn’t logical to feel as if she’d betrayed Rick, but she couldn’t help feeling terribly guilty.
Not only had she had sex with another man, but it been outside any experience she’d had with her late husband. Rick had been a careful, gentle lover. He’d cherished and loved her. What she’d experienced last night had been nothing but lust, the sexual act at its most primitive, most basic.
What did that say about her as a woman?
Grief, still horribly fresh, roared through her system.
Closing her eyes tight, Becca fought for control as she steadied herself.
She desperately needed to find that dark place where she brooded in safe isolation.
The occasional shudder overtook her as she fumbled with the zip of her dress and thrust her feet into her shoes.
She wound the cream cashmere pashmina around her and picked up her bag chanting to herself to get out and away from this man.
With a deep inhale and exhale, she opened the door.
The scent of bacon and freshly ground coffee made her stomach heave.
Lucas was sitting at a desk writing on a sheet of hotel paper.
He wore soft blue jeans and a black sweater. His feet were bare.
The logical unemotional part of her brain, the part that got her through every endless day, noticed the way his black hair clung to his skull and that he had the most beautiful hands.
He turned and saw her.
Becca kept her eyes on his chin.
The atmosphere was so icy she shivered.
‘Rebecca, what?’ The words, quietly spoken, vibrated with suppressed fury.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Your surname.’
‘Wainwright,’ she whispered.
‘That would be Mrs Rebecca Wainwright?’
She nodded. It was the simple truth.
‘Won’t he be wondering where you are?’
The burn of utter grief in her throat made speech impossible, so she merely gave a jerky shake of her head.
He folded the paper and placed it in an envelope. All the while those dark eyes stayed on her face.
‘You are a piece of work, Mrs Wainwright. I do not suppose I am the first to be taken in by those big eyes? Or do you have the usual sob story about how your husband does not understand you?’
Becca blinked and opened her mouth to tell him the truth then closed it. What had happened to her was none of this man’s business.
Common sense told her she’d done nothing wrong, but her heart told her she’d betrayed Rick by acting like a common whore. She’d let Lucas Del Garda touch her in ways, kiss her in ways that had broken every link in the chain of her self control. Rick would never have bent her over the arm of a sofa, thrusting into her, rutting like an animal, so hard that his balls slapped against her sweet spot. Self-disgust burned her cheeks as she admitted to herself she’d loved every single second of the experience.
What she’d wanted, needed, had been a physical connection, an intimacy with another human being. She’d been starving for it Becca realised now with the benefit of hindsight.
This man, who had swept her off her feet last night was physically overwhelming and an expert in seduction. He’d played her body like a violin, knowing precisely which strings to pluck to make her soar to his tune. And God, she’d soared to dizzying heights. Heights she’d never reached with the love of her life.
Her womb clutched again as she stood there just staring at Lucas and she wondered if she would ever be able to forgive herself for still having lingering erotic feelings of desire for a total stranger.
‘I’ve never done anything like this before.’
The effect of his dark nerve-shredding stare was devastating.
The hold on her emotions became shiveringly unstable.
Heat scorched her cheeks as his gaze ran over her body possessively.
She caught a glimpse of the thundering pulse in the hollow of his throat before he swallowed and took a deep breath.
His hand fisted on the table.
‘Can I call you?’ The words were spoken so softly she strained to hear him.
The room was so quiet she might have heard a silkworm breathe.
Feelings all over the place with everything that had happened in the last few hours, initially her mind refused to compute.
Good God, he believed she was married and was willing to have an affair? Disappointment with him warred with a righteous anger that she’d behaved like a wanton with a man who appeared to have no respect for women or the sanctity of marriage. Becca didn’t take much notice of the tabloids, but it appeared they’d been spot on with this guy and he’d had the gall to say that she was a piece of work?
What kind of man was he?
She shook her head as the mounting fury with herself turned outwards. Anger felt a hell of a lot better than guilt.
Her throat was dust dry. ‘I don’t think that would be a good idea.’
His eyes were cool now and remained on her face as he stood and moved towards her.
For a moment she thought he was going to argue, but he handed her the envelope.
‘If you ever change your mind.’
Heart thundering in her ears, she stared at the envelope before dropping it at his feet.
Opening the door Becca looked back and tipped up her chin, finding it hard to focus through swimming emotions.
‘Don’t hold your breath. I’m not married.’
She blinked rapidly to clear her vision and saw his eyes narrow before she continued, ‘He died. And he was worth ten of you.’
CHAPTER TWO
Shock held Lucas paralysed.
Christ, for a parting shot that one hit the bull’s-eye.
He’d gone from satiated lust to heartbreaking fury, to shamed surrender and stunned hope within the space of a few short minutes. No way would he permit her to walk out after that statement.
Plunging after her, he didn’t stop to think or to consider his actions.
He caught her as she stood at the elevator. The frantic way her finger jabbed the button revealed she was a woman on the edge. The door pinged and Lucas decided he didn’t have time to argue in front of witnesses.
He scooped Becca up in his arms, ignoring her yelp of outrage and stalked back to the open door of his suite. Kicking it shut behind him, he moved into the bedroom and in a fit of temper heeled that door closed too.
He dumped her on her feet before pushing her back against the door. She was trembling and flinched as he slapped a hand on the door either side of her head effectively
trapping her.
He bent his head to meet her eyes and he found he couldn’t be sorry for upsetting her since she’d taken his feelings and stomped all over them in a pair of shitkickers.
First of all she’d made him feel as if he’d found a special person, then like some sort of stud to be used and discarded. There was a double standard in there somewhere. Because of her, he’d ignored the rules of a lifetime. One of which was to never get involved with a married woman and she’d had the nerve to look at him as if he was pond scum? And then she’d told him she was a widow!
‘Look at me!’
It took a while, but eventually she did. And his heart lurched as he recognised grief, still raw, still fresh, vividly portrayed in those big blue eyes. But he spotted something else too, guilt.
He took a shot in the dark. ‘Am I the first man you have made love with since...?’
Her eyelids dropped. ‘That was not making love that was just rough sex,’ she whispered, evading the question even as heat scorched her beautiful face.
His brows flew into his hairline. Rough? Energetic perhaps, but rough? Vanity had never been an issue for Lucas neither was pride, but his ego took a direct hit. He was a generous and unselfish lover.
Last night had been a revelation. He’d reached a new level of self-awareness, a sense of a meeting of minds as well as a phenomenal physical compatibility. And she’d experienced it too. Becca just didn’t want to admit it. He’d never had a woman so responsive or so uninhibited in giving and receiving pleasure. However, unlike him, Becca appeared to be heavily burdened with guilt and regret.
‘Little liar.’ Tipping up her chin he forced her to look at him. ‘Answer the question.’
Annoyance snapped in her eyes and he was very pleased to see it instead of that desperate vulnerability that twisted his heart.
‘Yes!’ She pushed him but he didn’t draw back and alarm entered those blue eyes now.
The hit of relief that he’d been her first surprised Lucas in its intensity.
To hide his eyes he took refuge in nuzzling the frantic pulse under the soft skin of her ear. Her shiver of reaction along with her reluctant gasp of arousal had him take another shot in the dark.
‘And he was your first lover?’ he whispered in her ear.
She went totally still.
He lifted his head to look into her eyes and he nodded at what he saw there. He knew it. She’d been unskilled, lacking in confidence even as she’d given him everything he asked of her. When her trembling fingers had touched his shaft, he’d nearly come apart in her hand. And much later, when he’d asked her to take him in her mouth, she’d simply stared into his eyes before going down to press butterfly kisses, her pink tongue licking delicately the throbbing head of his erection. He’d never felt anything like it.
Although she’d trusted him and felt the connection, she’d enjoyed it too much and felt guilty. Well, Becca wasn’t going to dump that guilt on him.
‘Ah, and you feel guilty that you came apart in my arms in a way you never did in his.’
The hot flash in those amazing eyes was the only warning he received along with a furious cry before her nails raked down his cheek.
How dare he?
‘You arrogant, bastard!’
It didn’t matter that what he said was absolutely true. Becca had never struck anyone in her entire life, never mind claw a bloody path down another human being’s face.
Horrified she watched blood begin to pool and swell. She was trembling so hard her legs were threatening to buckle under her. A wave of nausea hit her like a tsunami leaving her bathed in a cold sweat.
She didn’t know what was worse, the fact she’d lost her temper and struck out or the fact that she didn’t feel an iota of remorse for it.
His fingers touched his cheek. He studied the blood with interest and gave a little shrug.
‘Not arrogant, querida. Confident.’ Lucas stepped back.
He didn’t look at her as he strolled to the bathroom and turned on a tap.
On legs that weren’t quite steady Becca moved to the door and watched him dab a cloth to the wound.
Self-disgust that she’d hurt him made her voice wobble.
‘I’ve never lost my temper like that. I’m sorry.’
In the mirror dark brooding eyes met hers.
He wasn’t angry she saw with relief, but his dark eyes went thoughtful as he studied her.
‘I deserved it. We appear to bring out the best of each other in bed and the worst of each other out of it. Why is that, do you think?’ He rummaged around his toilet bag.
Becca took a deep breath, desperately trying to ignore the stress headache pounding behind her eyes.
‘Pheromones, too much chemistry?’
He dabbed antiseptic on raw flesh. Then his eyes met hers in the mirror.
‘You think we have too much chemistry?’
‘We have too much of something,’ she muttered leaning for support against the doorframe.
Still his eyes stayed on her face.
The deep voice went gentle and soft. ‘When did you lose him?’
The tone resonated through her system, brought a hot sting behind her eyes. She didn’t want to do this. But then she caught his eye and read genuine sympathy and understanding.
He moved to stand before her.
‘Almost two years.’
His hand reached out and gentle fingers stroked her damp hair.
‘I am sorry, querida. You are still grieving. What happened?’
Becca kept her eyes glued to his strong jaw as her fingernails dug into the palms of her hands.
‘Bleed on the brain. One minute he was there, the next he was gone. Just. Like. That.’
She would never completely get over the shock of it. Not ever.
He cupped her face between his hands tipping her head up to stare into her eyes. Her gaze flicked to what she’d done to his face and he forced her to look at him. The intensity of those eyes the colour of bitter chocolate almost unnerved her.
‘It is nothing. It will heal. And so will you,’ he whispered.
Her face creased.
An unstoppable hot ball of emotion rose from her chest into her throat and exploded in a raw sob as tears finally tipped over.
Lucas merely caught her in his arms, sat on the bed with her on his knees and rocked her like a baby as she attempted to crawl inside his skin where it was safe and warm.
Even through a blizzard of pain Becca was more than aware of the boom boom of his strong heart. His scent comforted her as did the feel of muscular arms holding her tight.
He didn’t tell her to hush or that everything was going to be all right. It wasn’t all right. Her life was very far from all right. But she took his support and the offer of a shoulder to cry on. And she cried her heart out.
Feeling exhausted in the calm after the storm she simply turned her face into him and inhaled his strength.
‘I’m so sorry I hurt you. I’m so sorry to dump all this on you,’ she mumbled.
His soft laugh vibrated through her cheek making her mouth twitch in spite of herself.
‘I suspect it was long overdue. Emotions are much better out than in and I have big shoulders, querida. How about breakfast? You need fluids to replace the river of tears.’
Sitting upright, Becca swiped her cheeks well aware that she was one of those women who ended up with red piggy eyes and a blotchy skin when she got upset.
‘God, I must look like hell.’
Lifting her to her feet, he stood. ‘You look beautiful to me. Go and clean-up. I will pour us a coffee.’
After she’d washed her face and did her best to repair the damage with the minimal amount of make-up in her bag, Becca studied her ravaged features in the mirror.
‘Woman, you’re a mess,’ she told herself before making her way through to the sitting room.
He was tucking into a plate of bacon and eggs she noticed, certain she’d never eat a bite of it.
&nbs
p; ‘Sit,’ Lucas told her in an autocratic tone and she was too tired and emotionally drained to let it bother her.
He poured her an orange juice, smeared jam on a thin slice of wholemeal toast and put it on her plate.
Leaning back in the chair, long legs stretched out, he caught her eye.
‘So, what are we going to do about this?’
She didn’t pretend not to understand him. He might be one of the biggest playboys in the western world, but Lucas Del Garda had a kindness in him she’d never expected to find.
In her line of work she was used to attracting men. She recognised the dark and sultry look in his eye. He wanted her. She was also honest with herself enough to admit she wanted him. The time had come Becca realised, to lay her cards on the table.
‘I’m not looking for a relationship, Lucas. I need my space. I need my independence. I lead a busy life and my work comes first.’
If he was surprised he hid it well. ‘Si, I understand. You want something with no strings. I can appreciate that.’
She just bet he did.
‘I’m not the type of woman to be at any man’s beck and call.’
He smiled now and she wasn’t sure she liked it. It reminded her of a big hungry lion licking his lips before devouring Bambi.
‘Let me take you home, Becca,’ he said in a slow drawl that tingled the base of her spine.
She started to complain that she was perfectly capable of getting a taxi, but the look in his eye told her they’d only end up fighting again and she found she didn’t have it in her to go another round with him.
His car reflected the man, a dark, polished and sleek Bentley.
When the vehicle purred to a halt outside her apartment Lucas didn’t offer to walk her to the door and she was torn between relief and disappointment.
He turned to her as she opened the door to get out and handed her the envelope.
‘I am flying to New York tonight and will be in the States until Friday. Take this. It has my email and personal cell details. Stay in touch.’
It was an order rather than a request and the tone pressed one of her hot buttons. But the burning kiss he planted on her mouth wiped every logical thought from her brain.
A Stormy Spring Page 2
