Engaged to Jarrod Stone

by Carole Mortimer

  She knew that, and instead of the elated feeling she had felt all evening she now felt thoroughly depressed, craving only her own company.

  ‘I guess you would prefer me not to come in for coffee,’ Jerry said as the taxi came to a halt outside her flat.

  She was grateful for his understanding. ‘Thanks, Jerry. Some other time, hmm? Call me.’

  ‘Sure.’ He leant forward and kissed her softly on the lips. ‘Goodnight, honey.’

  Brooke went straight into the bathroom when she got in, running the water for a shower before going into the bedroom to remove her clothes. The effects of the alcohol were beginning to wear off and her temples throbbed.

  The warm water helped to ease her pain somewhat, but it couldn’t alleviate her humiliation. Jarrod had made her evening with Jerry seem cheap, and reluctant as she was to admit it, he was right. She had made a fool of herself tonight, an absolute fool.

  With her hair tied on top of her head with a black velvet ribbon and a towel secured about her body at her breasts she came back into the bedroom totally refreshed. The sight that met her eyes made her cheeks pale even more.

  ‘Jarrod!’ she gasped as she saw him sprawled full length on her bed. ‘What are you doing here?’

  He slowly sat up, his eyes appraising as he gazed boldly at her body. ‘Waiting for you—what else would I be doing?’

  CHAPTER NINE

  ‘W—WAITING for me?’ she repeated breathlessly.

  He stood up now, and came towards her. ‘Mm,’ he murmured. ‘Your eyes were promising things tonight I have no intention of letting any other man collect.’

  ‘Promising things?’ She clung to the towel that was in danger of falling off. ‘You—you’re mistaken!’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ He touched her pale cheeks. ‘You don’t look well. Have you been ill?’

  ‘No,’ she answered huskily, unnerved by his closeness.

  ‘Not sick or anything? You’ve been drinking steadily all evening.’

  ‘I’m not drunk and I haven’t been sick!’ she snapped angrily, mainly as a defence against his blatant maleness than out of real anger. She hadn’t expected to see him again tonight and she felt weakened by his presence in her bedroom.

  ‘Then what’s the matter with you, you look like death.’

  ‘Thanks.’ She moved jerkily away from his caressing hands. ‘I happen to have a headache.’ She heard him chuckle and turned to look at him. ‘What’s so funny about that?’

  ‘It’s the classic excuse.’ His eyes were dark grey with amusement.

  A strange fluttering sensation started in her stomach. ‘For what?’

  ‘For not making love,’ he stated bluntly. ‘Is that why your boy-friend isn’t here now?’

  ‘Jerry isn’t my boy-friend. And I have a much simpler way of avoiding making love, I just say no.’ Oh God, she wished she had her bathrobe on, but it was still hanging on the back of the bathroom door. She felt so—so naked dressed only in this towel that barely reached her thighs.

  Jarrod was right behind her now, his warm breath caressing her bare nape. ‘I have no intention of taking no from you tonight.’ His arms moved about her waist and he pulled her back against him, his hands possessively cupping her breasts. ‘I’ve come to collect, Brooke.’

  ‘Not from me you haven’t.’ She squirmed as his lips caressed her nape. ‘What’s happened to your mistress tonight?’ she sneered.

  ‘Selina?’ he murmured against her throat. ‘She’s at home with her husband, I would imagine.’

  ‘Does he realise you were out with his wife this evening?’ She gave up all effort of trying to escape him as he refused to let her go.

  ‘Oh yes, he knows.’ He continued a downward exploration of her creamy throat with his lips.

  ‘Does he love his wife so much that he allows her to—to have men friends?’ she asked in disgust, hoping to alienate him again by insulting him. She had to stop these caresses somehow.

  ‘I have no idea of his feelings in the matter,’ he appeared unmoved by her sarcasm. ‘He was with us tonight, we were a party of eight. But I don’t suppose you noticed that, you were too wrapped up in this Jerry.’

  Every time his lips touched her skin her heart gave a strange leap, and yet still she fought for sanity. ‘A party of eight,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘Who was your partner?’

  He turned her in his arms to face him, holding her against the lean length of him and making her wholly aware of his throbbing thighs. ‘A tall raven-haired beauty called Suzy.’

  ‘So if you aren’t with your mistress why aren’t you with this Suzy?’ Her gaze was fixed on the third button down on his white shirt front.

  He pretended shock. ‘Really, Brooke! I only met her for the first time this evening, even I wouldn’t presume so much on such short acquaintance.’

  ‘You surprise me!’

  He laughed. ‘I thought I might.’ He looked at her closely. ‘You look cute with your hair like that,’ he said softly. ‘But it’s a cuteness that’s totally deceptive.’ He pulled the ribbon free of her hair, allowing it to fall in glowing red-brown waves about her shoulders. ‘You looked like a little girl with your hair like that—and this isn’t the time for me to be reminded of your youth.’

  His body pressed against her own was working its usual magic and her legs felt weak. And the lighting in this room didn’t help the situation, one bedside lamp that added to the mood of seduction. ‘But I am young, Jarrod,’ she latched on to this point with desperation. ‘You can never change that.’

  ‘At this moment I don’t want to change a single damn thing about you.’ He bent his head to claim her lips with his own.

  Brooke couldn’t fight her own emotions any more, couldn’t fight the desire she felt for him. It had all been leading to this, all the arguments, all the friction. Her arms moved up about his neck and she gave up fighting him, revelling in his mastery of her.

  ‘That was good,’ he groaned against her mouth. ‘I needed that. You did too. Admit it.’

  ‘I—’

  ‘Admit it, Brooke!’

  ‘I needed it too,’ she said softly.

  He gave a triumphant laugh. As soon as he took his arms from about her body the towel fell to the floor. It seemed to Brooke that her whole body suffused with colour. She hurried to retrieve her only covering, but Jarrod stopped her.

  ‘Leave it,’ he ordered, his eyes never leaving the perfection of her body. ‘God, you’re more beautiful than even my imagination allowed for! Touching you isn’t quite the same thing as seeing you like this.’ He took her hand, leading her over to the bed. ‘Undress me.’

  ‘No!’ She felt awful standing here naked, even more so because Jarrod was totally dressed. ‘Let me get some clothes on, Jarrod,’ she pleaded.

  ‘Oh no,’ he sat her firmly down on the bed. ‘You can get under the covers if you like, but you are certainly not getting dressed, not now I’ve got you this far.’

  She quickly did as he said, peering at him from below the safety of the sheet. He was calmly taking off his clothes as if they did this every night! Brooke looked hurriedly away as he stripped off his trousers, throwing them carelessly on the floor with his other clothes.

  The next thing she knew the bed gave beside her and a pair of strong muscular arms pulled her against her first encounter with a naked male body. It felt good, really good, and she wondered if all men were as beautiful as Jarrod. She doubted it, he was just too perfect to be copied.

  He was unique, and her hands caressed him of their own volition. ‘This is wrong, Jarrod,’ she said breathlessly once he had released her lips, gasping as he touched her breasts.

  ‘How can anything that feels so right possibly be wrong? It can’t, Brooke,’ he answered his own question. ‘Can you deny that you want me?’

  ‘No, but I—’

  ‘Then it can’t be wrong.’ He parted her lips with a savagery that took her breath away, his hands moving intimately across her body.

&
nbsp; Just when she thought that full possession was the only thing that would satisfy either of them the doorbell began to ring. It rang and rang until it finally penetrated even Jarrod’s passion-filled brain.

  He looked down at her with tortured eyes. ‘Are you expecting anyone?’

  ‘No,’ she answered dazedly.

  ‘Then who the hell is it!’ He swore angrily as the doorbell continued to ring. He swung his legs out of the bed, pulling his trousers on before marching out furiously to open the door. Brooke pitied whoever it was.

  She lay shivering in the bed with reaction, wondering at her own response and yet knowing she would respond just as passionately when Jarrod returned.

  She could hear the murmur of voices in the lounge and wondered who Jarrod could possibly be talking to. She slipped out of the bed, grabbing her robe from the bathroom before quietly entering the lounge. Dave stood up at her entrance and Jarrod came over to put his arm about her shoulders, holding her protectively against his side.

  She couldn’t help noticing how pale they both were. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked Jarrod. ‘Has something happened?’

  His face was bleak. ‘My father has had a heart attack. I have to go to the hospital. Wait for me here while I dress,’ he told his brother before leaving the room.

  Dave looked embarrassed. ‘Sorry to have burst in on you like this,’ he muttered.

  ‘Is your father going to be all right?’ Brooke asked anxiously.

  ‘They think so. Of course they can’t be sure yet. But I thought Jarrod ought to know.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ she agreed. ‘I’m only relieved you thought to come here.’

  ‘I tried his apartment first, and then I tried a club he occasionally goes to. It seems I just missed him at the club, so I tried his apartment again. He still wasn’t there.’ Dave shrugged. ‘I couldn’t think of anywhere else he could be. After all, he did say he spends a lot of his nights here.’

  ‘So he did,’ she agreed dully. ‘Excuse me, Dave. I have to speak to Jarrod.’

  ‘Hey!’ he stopped her exit. ‘I didn’t mean to be insulting, you know. I was just trying to explain my reasoning.’

  She gave a wan smile. ‘I realise that. Now I must see Jarrod.’

  ‘Of course,’ he acknowleged.

  Brooke gently touched his arm. ‘I told you how I felt about him from the beginning.’

  ‘Yes, you did. I’m sorry I tried to cause trouble between you yesterday.’

  If only he knew how much damage he had done! But he and Jarrod had enough to worry about with their father’s illness without her raking up old arguments. She gave him a vague smile before rushing into her bedroom.

  Jarrod was partly dressed by this time, his black leather shoes back on his feet and his shirt pulled back on over his powerful shoulders. His look darkened as Brooke came into the room and she ran into his arms, her own arms passing around his waist below the unbuttoned shirt. She rested her head on his hair-roughened chest, aware of the strong steady beat of his heart.

  He shuddered as her arms went about him, holding her close, his face buried in her luxurious hair. ‘God, this is a mess!’ he moaned agonisingly.

  She tilted her head back to look at him. ‘Your father will be all right. I’m sure he will.’ Her look was earnest.

  ‘You think so?’

  She smoothed away the lines of worry from his brow, for once aware of an air of uncertainty about him. ‘I’m sure of it, Jarrod. He’s a strong man. He’ll pull through, you’ll see,’ she smiled bravely.

  He touched her cheeks with gentle fingers. ‘I wish I had your optimism.’

  ‘You’ll call me as soon as you know anything?’ she asked anxiously.

  He moved impatiently away from her and began to button his shirt. ‘It could be any time of day or night when we know he’s out of danger.’

  ‘I want to know, Jarrod,’ she said firmly.

  ‘Look, it can’t mean that much to you.’ He pulled on his jacket, ready to leave. ‘My family are nothing to you and neither am I.’

  ‘Jarrod!’ she said warningly, more hurt than she cared to admit. He had shown her very effectively that what had just taken place between them was no more than a physical attraction that was easily forgotten by him.

  ‘Okay, okay, I’ll call you.’

  He left the bedroom without another word and by the time she had gathered her wits together enough to follow him he and Dave had already left. She sank down dejectedly on the couch. Would she ever see Jarrod again? Tonight he had been consumed with a desire so strong it couldn’t be denied, but now that passion had faded and died, and so had his desire to see her for all she knew.

  She didn’t bother to go back to bed, dozing on the couch until about ten o’clock when she decided she might as well shower and dress. Jarrod hadn’t called her yet and so she waited by the telephone all day in the hope that she would hear from him.

  No call came, and as she hadn’t thought to ask the name of the hospital Mr Stone had been admitted to she couldn’t call and enquire after his health for herself. Not that she thought they would tell her anything anyway, she wasn’t ‘family’.

  She was thoroughly exhausted by the time eleven o’clock came round that evening, lack of sleep and loss of appetite were each paying their toll and she just had to go to bed. She would be fit for nothing in the morning, and she still had to go to work even if she was—had been—engaged to the boss.

  The bed felt curiously lonely without Jarrod’s presence and she found it difficult to fall asleep. When she finally did it was a deep drugged sleep from which she would find it difficult to awaken.

  She woke part way through the night to find a strong masculine arm curved about her waist and a heavy weight resting on her breasts. Jarrod murmured in his sleep as she moved in surprise.

  ‘Jarrod?’ she muttered drowsily, looking down at the dark head resting against her.

  ‘Mm?’ He didn’t move.

  ‘Is everything all right?’ her fogged-up brain formed the question.

  ‘Mm,’ he said again, a smile momentarily curving his mouth.

  She was satisfied with that. Jarrod wouldn’t be here and he wouldn’t have smiled if his father wasn’t out of danger. She drifted back off to sleep, content just to have him here.

  When she woke in the morning he had gone. She couldn’t believe it, and jumped out of bed and rushed into the bathroom to see if he was showering. He was nowhere to be found, making her wonder if she had dreamt the whole thing. Surely she hadn’t imagined it? But there could be no other explanation.

  She was still pale and tired when she arrived at work, her head throbbing with pain. ‘Don’t say it,’ she groaned as Jean was about to speak. ‘I know I look terrible.’

  ‘Actually I was going to ask you if you would like a coffee.’

  She gave a grateful smile. ‘I’d love one, thank you. It might help wake me up.’

  Jean returned with the steaming cup of coffee. ‘I guess you had a lousy weekend.’

  Brooke swallowed a couple of aspirins. ‘You heard?’

  ‘About Mr Stone?’ Jean nodded. ‘It was on the local radio.’

  ‘It was terrible. Such a shock.’ In more ways than one for Jarrod and herself!

  ‘The boss looked in terrible shape when he came in,’ Jean said sympathetically.

  ‘Jarrod’s in?’ Brooke squeaked, scalding her mouth with the hot coffee.

  Jean nodded. ‘About fifteen minutes ago.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘I don’t think he’ll be staying, though,’ Jean continued. ‘He was dressed very casually,’ she explained. ‘Not his usual suave self. He’s probably only in to read the post.’

  ‘Probably.’ Brooke looked up as one of the girls from the typing pool came over to her desk. ‘Hello, Maureen. Anything wrong?’ she asked at the other girl’s puzzled look.

  ‘Well, I—’ Maureen looked confused. ‘I thought I was supposed to be taking over for you today,’ she explained.

/>   Brooke frowned. ‘For me? Why should you think that?’ Maureen usually took over the reception desk for her if she was on holiday or off sick.

  ‘Mr Stone rang to say you wouldn’t be in today. I naturally assumed it was because of his father’s illness.’

  Before Brooke could protest Jean interrupted the conversation. ‘I think that’s an excellent idea. Why don’t you go home and get some sleep, Brooke? You look as if you need it.’

  ‘Thanks!’

  ‘Look, you know you feel lousy,’ Jean persisted.

  It was true, she did. Her temples ached, her head was pounding and her body felt like lead. But there was really no need for Jarrod to have automatically announced she wouldn’t be in today. He had no idea how she felt, so that couldn’t possibly have been his reason for interfering.

  ‘Go on,’ Jean urged. ‘It will do—’ she broke off impatiently as her intercom buzzed. ‘Yes? Yes, sir.’ She glanced at Brooke. ‘Right away. Goodbye.’ She disconnected the line. ‘You don’t have any choice about it now. Apparently Mr Stone has just learnt you’re in the building after all. He wants you to go up to his office.’

  Brooke would have liked to protest at this, but she was too much aware of Maureen and the gossip such objections could cause. With a shrug she gathered up her jacket and handbag and walked over to the private lift.

  Catherine Farraday treated her with none of the hauteur of their last meeting, smiling at her. She pressed the intercom at her side. ‘Your fiancée is here to see you, Mr Stone.’

  ‘Ask her to come in.’ His voice sounded strangely hollow over the intercom.

  ‘I’ll show myself in, shall I?’ Brooke asked tentatively.

  ‘Certainly,’ she smiled again.

  She knocked on the door to Jarrod’s office before entering. He was sitting behind the desk and he looked as terrible as she felt. His face was deathly pale, his eyes dark and heavy from the lack of sleep, and his hair was ruffled as if he had spent many hours running agitated hands through its thickness.