It was so much her kind of house, it hurt! The late-afternoon sun bathed the old stone exterior in pale golden light and turned the ice-covered lake into a dazzling opalescence. The high ceilings, the airy, gracious rooms visible through other open doors farther down the upper hall, the deep carved moldings and smooth oak floors—they called out to her so urgently, she could have wept.
“What does it matter?” she cried. “I’m not the one who’ll be living here! Stop quizzing me at every turn, Leo. What I think is irrelevant.”
“Not to me,” he said quietly, reaching for her. “I’ve tried telling myself what you think isn’t important and I don’t need the complications you’ve brought into my life, but despite what I said last night about not bothering you again, I’m having a hard time sticking to it.”
That great, beautiful house teemed with the ghosts of former couples who’d loved and lived under its roof. The echo of past laughter, the deep and measured breathing of shared passion between a husband and wife, the sound of a mother crooning to her baby, haunted the air. They pulled at Ava, drawing her into Leo’s arms as if trying to tell her she belonged with him, and that they were the ones to inherit that legacy of joy.
“Don’t!” she begged feebly, feeling herself drowning in the searching intensity of his gaze.
“I can’t help myself,” he said, his mouth cruising over her eyelids, her cheekbones and along her jaw until it found her lips.
No man should be able to kiss with such mastery—like an angel, able to make a woman lose all sense of self-preservation and live only for the rapture of the moment. Like a devil, wielding such unholy power that she uttered inarticulate little sounds of surrender deep in her throat when, all the time, she knew she should be giving vent to outrage.
He was taking unpardonable liberties. Persuading her with a suggestive nudge of his hips to move into the seclusion of the big bedroom with him and then, when he’d succeeded, inching the door closed so that they wouldn’t be discovered. Cushioning her between him and the wall, and leaving her half blind with desire at the pressing, urgent weight of him.
His hands skimmed down her throat. Brushed fleetingly at her breasts, just enough to arouse her nipples to tingling awareness—but not nearly to satisfy it. Paused at her hips to raise the hem of her sweater and then, with stunning audacity, pulled her satin camisole free from the top of her skirt.
He touched her waist, lightly, beguilingly. Awoke a thousand sensory pinpoints of pleasure on her exposed skin. “Come with me,” he said, his words caught between a plea and a groan. “Let me take you away from here to somewhere quiet and undisturbed by all the insanity coming between us…to someplace where we can confront our feelings for one another openly. Stop fighting the inevitable, Ava.”
She yearned to agree. Felt the tug of physical longing join forces with her surging emotions—a potent combination beside which conscience and integrity struggled to survive.
“Hang Deenie out to dry, you mean?” she managed, her heart breaking.
“Leave Deenie out of this,” he said, cradling her waist in both his hands. “Do you really think that throwing her name into the mix is going to make me forget what it’s like to hold you in my arms, or kiss you and feel you respond to my touch? Will it make you forget?”
“No. But she believes—”
He shook her; not roughly, or ungently, but with a desperate urgency. “Listen to me, Ava! It doesn’t matter what she believes! I don’t care what she believes!”
“How can you say that?” she cried softly. “Don’t you love her at all?”
“No,” he said.
“She thinks she loves you.”
He closed his eyes. “I doubt that that’s true. But even if it is, I don’t return her feelings. I’m sorry if that sounds harsh and unfeeling, but you’re smart enough to know that love’s not something any of us can dish out on command. We love because we can’t help ourselves.”
“Stop trying to confuse the issue!”
“I’m not. I’m trying to confront it head-on.” He cupped her chin and forced her to meet his troubled gaze. “You love your parents, I love mine, and we both love our work. But we both know that what we feel for one another is a whole world removed from those other loves. They’re safe, comfortable. This isn’t. It’s wild and greedy and overwhelming. And ignoring it isn’t going to make it go away. So tell me, Ava, what do I have to do to make you face up to that?”
She tore herself away from him and backed toward the door. “There’s nothing you can do,” she said. “The only person who can alter the outcome of events in a way that I’d ever find acceptable is Deenie herself. As long as she wants you—or thinks she does—you’re off limits. So don’t come near me again. I don’t want to be alone with you. I don’t want you smiling at me, or talking to me in private, or making knowing eye contact. And most of all I don’t want you touching me. I’m hurting enough already.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
FRUSTRATED, Leo stared around the room. Judging from its size and furnishings, it had to be the master suite. Set at right angles to the window, so that its occupants could look out at the lake, stood a great big bed. The kind where, in the old days, mothers gave birth, then leaned against the headboard and nursed their babies.
In his mind’s eye, Leo could see Ava there, his child at her breast, her lovely face flushed and tender, her dark hair spilling over one shoulder. But day-dreaming about it wasn’t enough to make it happen. More positive action was called for, a point Ethel had driven home with her customary bluntness when he’d taken her out for lunch that day.
“When are you going to do something about that sweet gal?” she’d wanted to know.
“I assume you’re referring to Ava,” he said blandly, just speaking her name enough to remind him of the black satin creation she’d worn the night before. Of how it had slipped through his fingers like cool spring water—and how later, in the small hours, he’d dreamed of stripping it off her and woken in a fine state of arousal.
“Of course. Why would I waste breath on that other creature? The only thing she needs is a good slap on the behind, but I doubt her father has the cajones for the task. And quite frankly, boy, I’ll be wondering about yours if you continue evading the subject like this. You’re clearly so smitten with Ava that I fail to understand why you don’t come straight out and tell the obnoxious Deenie to take a hike, instead of pandering to her neurotic need to be the centre of attention all the time.”
“Deenie’s an artiste. It’s the nature of the beast to enjoy the spotlight, on top of which she’s in a pretty fragile state right now.”
“Fragile, my hind foot! She’s self-centred, shallow, and utterly oblivious to the feelings of the people around her. If she weren’t, she’d see that you and Ava were made for one another, and do everything in her power to bring you together, instead of preying on your time and attention like a black widow spider.”
“That’s a bit harsh, surely?”
“I don’t think so!” She’d snorted with disapproval and drained her martini. “Take this business of dragging you out to some house this afternoon to look over a lease when you’ve got a perfectly good office in which to conduct business, and she could just as easily have come there. She’s up to something, Leo, and if you can’t see that, you’re not the man I always took you to be.”
“Regardless of what you think of my testosterone levels, duchess,” he’d said mildly, “I do know how and when to take a stand. I also know when to back off—and Ava made it pretty clear last night that she doesn’t welcome my advances.”
Sure she had! And he’d assured her he’d received the message. But all that had gone by the board when he’d found himself alone in this room with her. In fact, if it had been up to him, he’d probably have had her underneath him on that bed and made thorough and complete love to her, and never mind who might come in through the front door at any given moment!
Deenie’s voice, sharp and petulant outside on the land
ing, yanked him out of idyllic introspection and back to irritating reality with a jolt. “Why are you lurking around up here, Ava, and where’s Leo?”
“Right behind you,” he said, stepping out of the bedroom to find Deenie and her friends clustered on the landing. “Is there a problem?”
Ava, looking stricken, hovered at the top of the stairs. Upon seeing him though, Deenie was suddenly all sunny smiles. “Hello, darling!” she cooed, rushing up to hug him. “Sorry we’re a bit late, but the Vancouver flight has been delayed an hour, so we took a little detour!”
Despite his attempt to shrug her off, she latched on to him like a barnacle. Oh, cripes! he thought, recognizing her overly demonstrative response with sinking dismay. She’s on-stage again, right down to the melodramatic ‘darling’!
Ava had noticed, too, but with a different interpretation. He saw the flash of pain she couldn’t hide; the brief but telling glance of mistrust she leveled at him before averting her gaze. “I’ll wait for you in the car,” she told Deenie, and went swiftly down the stairs, her spine poker-straight.
“Sure.” Deenie waved her away as if she were of no more importance than a gnat. “Leo, darling, tell me what you think of the house.”
Wrenching his gaze from Ava’s departing back, he said, “It’s far too big for what you—”
“Perhaps. But would you be willing to pay the rent they’re asking for it?”
“I’m not the one—”
Once again, she interrupted him. “I know what you’re going to say. It’s up to me to decide, but you’re the one with the lease.” She fluttered over to her friends. “Isn’t he adorable? Do you know any other man who’d be so accommodating? So sensitive to my needs?”
Resenting the implied intimacy of her remarks, he said abruptly, “I want to have a word in private with you, Deenie. There are a few things we need to get straight.”
He must have looked as grim as he felt because she spun around like a wind-up china doll, ushered the Markovs toward the stairs, and exclaimed, “My goodness, I had no idea how late it is! Say goodbye to Lynette and Paul, Leo darling. It’s time they were on their way.”
“Indeed,” he said, and would have offered his hand if she’d allowed him to get within spitting distance of the couple. “Safe journey, both of you, and good luck with your upcoming tour. Deenie, I’ll wait for you downstairs.”
She waggled her fingers in acknowledgement and hurried the Markovs away. He waited until they’d gone, then went back for a last regretful look around the bedroom. Yeah, he could definitely see himself living here with Ava. After thirty-seven years, carefree bachelorhood had lost its charm, big time! All he had to do was convince her of it.
He heard a car door slam closed and the purr of a departing engine. And then, immediately after, another car leaving. So, she’s sent Ava on her way, too, he thought, heading downstairs. Just as well! By the time I’ve had my long-overdue say, Miss Deenie isn’t going to be fit company for anyone.
He’d returned to the dining room, picked up the key where he’d left it next to his briefcase, and stowed the lease before it occurred to him that Deenie was taking a hell of a long time to come back inside and face the music. Pacing to the entrance hall, he pulled open the front door and looked out.
The driveway was empty. The little witch had left with Ava!
“You’ve been had again, you dumb schmo!” he growled, smacking his forehead with the heel of his hand.
He should have known better than to think she’d play straight with him. She didn’t know the meaning of the term!
“Leo seemed awfully crabby just now,” Deenie remarked, as they drove away. “Did something happen between the two of you before I showed up?”
“Happen?” Ava felt the blood drain from her face and pool weakly around her ankles. “Happen how?”
“I don’t know. A disagreement, perhaps? Did you tell him you hated the house, or something?”
“I loved the house,” she said, grateful that on that subject at least, she could speak freely. “I think it’s gorgeous.”
“Oh, Ava!” Deenie chortled. “Despite that smart cosmopolitan veneer you’ve acquired, you’re still just a small-town girl at heart. You’d probably be quite happy to settle down and spend the rest of your life in Owen’s Lake if nothing better presented itself.”
“I don’t know why that strikes you as so amusing, given that it’s exactly what you’re proposing to do,” she retorted.
“But I’m not,” Deenie said. “Not really. I was just playing a little game.”
“For whose benefit?”
“Well, whose do you think? For mine, of course!”
“Why, Deenie?”
The question, uttered as it was in a tone laced with reproof, would have been enough to spark indignation in the old Deenie. But this new, secretive incarnation merely said, “For reasons you can’t begin to understand, Ava, and which I can’t begin to explain.”
“Then a lot’s changed between us, because we never had a problem communicating in the past. Half the time, we both knew what the other was thinking or feeling without a word being spoken. But now….” Ava tightened her grip on the steering wheel, a very real regret coursing through her. “We’re like strangers, Deenie. Something’s been out of whack between us ever since I got home. And it makes me very sad.”
“Perhaps it’s because I’m not the only one with secrets,” Deenie said darkly. “You’re keeping a few of your own, and don’t think I haven’t noticed.”
Stunned, Ava sputtered, “I don’t know what you think you’ve noticed!”
“You’ve got man trouble, Ava, and don’t bother denying it because I recognize the signs only too well. Yet I don’t hear you confiding in me. If our being open and honest is all that important, why are you being so reticent? Are you ashamed of him?”
Without stopping to think how she might be incriminating herself needlessly, Ava blurted out, “No! That’s not it at all!”
“Is he married, then? Are you having an affair with someone else’s husband?”
Perspiration needled her skin. “No,” she said again, but this time with a lot less conviction.
“Then it must be unrequited love.” Deenie patted her knee with empty sympathy. “I’ve been there, too, kiddo. It’s no fun, is it? But the way you get over it is to dive into an affair with another man and flaunt it in the bastard’s face. Make him sorry he passed you up for someone else.”
“In other words, use one man to punish another?” Ava shuddered inwardly. “When did you become so cynical and unfeeling, Deenie?”
“When I realized that if I don’t look out for myself, no one else will. Pull over into that parking spot, why don’t you? The boutique’s only half a block away.”
“If it’s all the same to you, I’m going to pass on the shopping. I lost my enthusiasm for trying on dresses. In fact, I doubt I’ll even bother going to the club on New Year’s Eve.”
“Good heavens, you really are out of sorts, aren’t you? No matter. Just drop me off at the door—I’ll be fine on my own—and we’ll get together…well, let’s see.” She dug in her bag for her diary and flipped open the pages. “Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve and I’m pretty much tied up all day, then the twenty-fifth’s set aside for all the relatives, so probably not before the twenty-sixth or-seventh. I guess the gift exchanging will have to wait until then.”
Ava slid the car to a stop outside the dress shop, let her passenger out, and pulled away before Deenie changed her mind again.
She should have been disappointed. After all, spending time with Deenie had been high on her agenda when she’d first arranged to come home. But things had changed in the days since, and all Ava could think now was, Two whole days of not having to deal with you or Leo? Well, hallelujah! Maybe Christmas won’t be such a wash-out, after all.
The snow began again late in the afternoon of the twenty-fourth. Ava, listening to carols on the radio as she helped prepare the bouillabaisse her mother tra
ditionally served for Christmas Eve dinner, didn’t hear the doorbell ring and was caught totally off guard when her father pushed open the swing door to the kitchen and announced, “You’ve got a visitor, Ava. It’s Leo. You want to see him in here?”
“Of course she doesn’t,” her mother scoffed, sending her a knowing glance. “For heaven’s sake, Gary, show the man into the living room and pour him a drink.”
“Why’s he here at all?” Ava said in an undertone, when her father had gone.
“Only one way to find out.” Her mother pushed her aside and took over the stirring of the stew. “Off you go, honey. Whatever this is about, I’m sure you’ll find a way to deal with it.”
If only! But good intentions and firm resolve were no match for her thudding sweep of reaction at the sight of Leo standing deep in thought before the fire. He wore navy cords and shirt, with an off-white sweater—a casual, ordinary combination which on any other man would have been unremarkable.
“Ordinary” and “unremarkable” didn’t belong in Leo Ferrante’s world, though. He looked…he looked….
She swallowed in an effort to unglue her tongue from the roof of her mouth. He looked sleek and tantalizing and utterly irresistible. Even his thick grey socks—he must have left his boots at the front door, she decided, staring at his feet because it was a lot safer than looking at that superbly molded face—were sexy.
“Hi,” he said, his husky baritone overriding the background sound of the carols drifting from the speakers at the base of the tree. “Thanks for seeing me.”
“I’d have preferred not to,” she said.
“I know. You made your feelings about me very clear yesterday.”
She raised her eyes and found him watching her. His gaze was sombre, his mouth unsmiling. He was, she thought on a painful breath, the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, and the most troubled. “Then why are you here?”
“Because I want you to hear it from me that before any more misunderstandings or assumptions occur, I intend to make it abundantly clear to Deenie that she and I are nothing but platonic friends. And if spelling it out plainly puts an end to the friendship, I can live with that, and she’ll have to, as well. I’ve tried to be patient with her erratic behaviour and put the most charitable interpretation on it, but enough’s enough.”
Catherine Spencer - Christmas Passions Page 7
