by Sandra Brown
She creamed her face, brushed her teeth, and took down her hair. All of these routine things she did automatically, her mind in a turmoil, her thoughts traitorous to the decision she had made moments before. What were his lips capable of when his passion was unleashed? The hands that had caressed her shoulders only hinted at their talent to heighten the senses.
Foolishness! she chided herself as she took the candle into her bedroom. He was only being polite. It was a kiss of gratitude. Friendship. Comrades abroad. Nothing more.
She set the candle on the bedside table and turned down the quilted spread and colorful sheets. Her fingers were working with the snap of her slacks when the door behind her swung open on silent hinges.
Only the light from one candle on the coffee table was behind him, but she could see that he wore only a pair of pajama bottoms, which rode low on his hips. His frame completely filled the doorway, his arms spread wide, his hands bracing him on each side of the jamb.
She stared at him with a mixture of fear and excitement. One hand went to her throat to capture her heart, which had leaped there. The other settled over her stomach, trying vainly to still the disquieting flutter. She felt helpless, caught up in something from which there was no escape. Escape? Did she want to escape?
“Are you going to scream?” he asked quietly. He began to move toward her.
“I don’t know,” she answered honestly, shaking her head in desperation.
He stood only a few feet from her now. The magnificent proportions of his physique were revealed to her clearly and she admitted that she had never seen a man who stirred her feminine instincts as did this man.
“I don’t think so,” she whispered. Then his hands came up to cup her face and tilt it back for his kiss. Her eyes were already closing as she said, “No, I’m not going to scream.”
This time there was no hesitancy. His lips claimed hers in a fierce kiss. Then his mouth opened and left no room for argument on that claim. He possessed her mouth thoroughly, and without resistance she parted her lips and honored his ownership.
His tongue rubbed sensuously against hers and then went deeper to explore the mysteries of her mouth. He solved each one in turn. His arms wrapped around her. Smoothing over her back, his hands settled on her waist and drew her closer until their bodies melded together. Teasingly, his mouth moved over hers, elusively avoiding her lips, which pursued it. When a small, frustrated moan escaped her, he rewarded her tenacity by taking her mouth under his once again.
Her arms came up and locked behind his neck. Without separating, they fell to the bed and lay on the pillows, which welcomed them as if they belonged.
He raised his head and gazed down at her with fevered eyes. He spoke rapidly, as though he had been saving up things to say, and now that the opportunity had presented itself, he didn’t want to lose it. “Your hair is beautiful. So dark and shiny.” His fingers sifted through the silky strands. “Your complexion doesn’t need makeup. Your eyes… God, you’re gorgeous, Jordan. Kiss me again. Please.”
She needed no coaxing. Her hands tangled in the coarse auburn hair and pulled his face down to hers. Their mouths met with equal need, each hot and moist and seeking appeasement for a newborn thirst that seemed unquenchable.
He forsook the wellspring of her mouth to plant kisses along her cheek and ear. He tasted the lobe with a velvet-rough tongue. Jordan’s fingertips explored the hard, bunched muscles of his shoulders as capricious lips skipped along her neck. With precision, his hand moved between their bodies and covered her breast. An inquisitive thumb stroked across the crest, which impertinently demanded attention.
“Reeves,” she groaned, and arched upward against him. Suddenly she realized what she was doing. Not until an hour ago had she ever seen this man. Now she was in bed with him, allowing him—no, begging him—to kiss her and caress her with matchless intimacy. This was not trivial kissing. This was making love. With a stranger! Was she mad? She must stop this. Now.
But his hands had slipped under her sweater and were learning the lush curves of her breasts. “Reeves, please … no,” she pleaded. “No…I can’t. I don’t …”
“I do, Jordan. I do. But not like this. Never before like this.”
Then the sweater was being peeled over her head and she lay exposed to his ardent eyes. “My God,” he breathed as his heated gaze devoured her. Tenderly, his hands caressed her and he watched in adoring wonder as her breasts responded readily, eagerly, to the manipulation of his fingertips.
Embarrassed by his scrutiny and her response to his touch, she shut her eyes. His mouth closed over her breast. The nipple knew the sweet nudging of his tongue. He tugged on her gently, yet she felt it deep within her body, igniting a fuse that raced through her veins, leaving behind a thrilling conflagration. She cried his name softly.
He lifted his head and asked anxiously, “Did I hurt you?”
“No, no,” she sobbed, and clasped his head, drawing it back to her.
“Jordan,” he murmured against her dewy skin. “You’re delicious.” His mouth continued to torture and tease and she knew that she was lost. The battle was over before it was begun. He was the victor because he really had no opponent. She had forfeited. She wanted this now as much as he did.
When he undid her slacks and slipped them and her panties down her legs, she made no move to resist. He stood, and with a quick yank to the string at his waist the pajamas slid down his legs to the floor. He lay down again and gathered her to him.
His body moved along hers, detailing the physical differences between them. His leg with its hair-roughened skin lay across hers, heavy and protective. His chest raked against her breasts, tickling them with the crinkly brush that covered it. A thumb feathered her cheek as he kissed her long and deep.
His hand smothered over the satin skin of her hip and along her thighs, between them. His sharp intake of breath echoed hers when he touched the gate of her femininity. He found it pliant and ready for his caress. He stroked her appreciatively. “Jordan, you feel so good. So incredibly good.”
His fingers worked like a magic wand that showered her body with iridescent sparks of ecstasy. Fervent kisses were rained on her breasts. His body continued to stroke hers. With every movement, every soft panting breath, she beseeched him to explore further.
When she could bear no more, she clutched him tightly. He moved over her, but restrained himself long enough to ask hoarsely, “Jordan, is there any reason why I shouldn’t do this?”
Yes! There were a hundred reasons. Thousands. A vision of another face was projected onto her brain, but she refused to look at it. She was at such a level of desire that nothing else mattered. Reeves had kissed her, caressed her like no other man ever had. She couldn’t deny the sleeping passion he had awakened. None of this should be happening. But it was. And she wanted it to happen.
She shook her head against the pillow. “No, no reason.”
He fused their bodies together so consummately that she gasped her pleasure in the form of his name. “Yes, Jordan, yes,” he rasped against her ear. “It’s good. Wonderful.”
The rightness of it didn’t escape their passion-clouded minds. Each recognized the harmonious way their bodies coupled. The rhythm with which they moved seemed rehearsed. They withheld nothing. Barriers didn’t exist. Inhibitions were banished.
Nor did they hasten.
Every move was calculated to bring the other pleasure. Each caress was slow and provocative, its sole intention to please. They each became drugged with the essense of the other until the culmination exploded upon them. It rocketed through them simultaneously. Reeves buried his face deep within the curve of her shoulder. Jordan clasped him to her and gloried in the fulfillment.
“I don’t understand this.” She shifted closer to him and rested her cheek on the dark hair on his chest.
“What’s to understand?” he asked softly. His arm cradled her against him while the other hand stroked her hair.
“This isn’t li
ke me. I’ve never … I haven’t been with a man since my husband,” she admitted abashedly. He probably wouldn’t believe her. She hardly believed it herself.
He lifted his head off the pillow and gazed down at her face, which was shadowed by the single candle on the bedside table. His index finger traced down her cheek, still flushed with his love. “You don’t have to justify that or apologize for it. I think I would have known it anyway.”
She raised her eyes and looked at him. “Was I that awkward?” she asked.
“You were perfect.” He kissed her gently on the lips. “But physically it didn’t feel like you were often with a man.”
She dipped her face again into the shelter of his shoulder and he chuckled softly at her embarrassment. They lay silent and pensive for long moments, content to enjoy the warmth, the touch, the scent, the nearness of the other. His voice was low and confidence-inspiring when he said, “Tell me about your husband.”
Her hand, which had been idly charting his ribs, came to rest. “We married after I graduated from college. We were married for four years. He was killed in a car crash.”
“I’m sorry. It must have been a terrible time for you.”
She sighed. “We were separated at the time he was killed, Reeves. Charles was a salesman—an unsuccessful one. He went from job to job, chasing rainbows, never thinking realistically. I traipsed after him for years, from city to city, from state to state, always hoping that I’d be able to hang up curtains before he came home and told me of his latest prospect that would require moving again.
“I finally got tired of the transient lifestyle and left him. I got a job with a newspaper writing society page articles. It wasn’t a very exciting life, but it was stable. Charles kept begging me to come back to him, but I refused to unless he promised to settle down. He was killed several months later.”
Reeves breathed heavily and drew her closer. “I hope you don’t harbor any guilty feelings over leaving him.”
She laughed dryly. “I probably would have, but after his death his girlfriend came to see me and guiltily confessed all the lurid details. They had been lovers long before I moved out.”
“Sounds like he was a real winner,” Reeves said sarcastically.
“Don’t be too hard on Charles. He couldn’t help the way he was any more than any of us can.”
“I think you’re being magnanimous,” he whispered. He cupped her chin in his fist and raised her face to receive a soft kiss.
He practically threw her from him and sat bolt upright when the lights suddenly flashed on. When both realized what had happened, they burst out laughing.
“I’ve lived through wars, famines, and floods, and I nearly have a heart attack when the electricity comes back on.” He was raking his hands through his hair in a most endearing, boyish way.
“What time is it?” she asked.
He checked his wristwatch. “Just after two.”
“Well, the power has been restored in almost record time,” she commented with a laugh.
“Stay where you are, woman. I’ll go around and turn off all the lights.”
“Like that?” she asked. She sat up and stared at him in astonishment as he stepped over the discarded pajama bottoms.
His brows lowered over lascivious eyes as they treated themselves to a leisurely perusal of her breasts. “Do you object?” he taunted.
She smiled mischievously. “Not if you hurry back.”
“Insatiable wench,” he teased as he strode out of the room.
Jordan fell back against the pillows, raising her arms high above her head and stretching luxuriously. She sighed in deep contentment. A silly smile curled her lips as her eyes strayed over the room, which seemed to have changed character with the presence of Reeves Grant.
Her eyes lit briefly on the Lalique perfume bottles on her dresser. They passed the collection, but then came back to look at it more closely. Helmut. Helmut had given her the crystal last week for a “no occasion” present.
For an instant, when Reeves had asked her if there were any reason why he should not complete the act of loving, Helmut’s face had flickered through her mind. Her being with Reeves tonight wasn’t fair to Helmut at all. How would she handle that?
Should she tell Reeves about Helmut? It really was none of his concern, but it might be better to get everything out in the open at the outset. The outset of what? She had no reason to believe that this would go any further than the present. Perhaps it would be better to keep her counsel until Reeves indicated what his intentions were.
No, she wouldn’t tell him anything just now.
But when Reeves came back into the room and switched off the light, she knew she wanted to be honest with him.
“Reeves,” she said as he slid in beside her and took her in his arms. “Reeves—”
“They’re all out. Should we just let this one last candle burn down? I don’t want all the lights to be off or I can’t see you.” His voice was husky as his lips sought the base of her throat and the vulnerable triangle there.
“Reeves …”
“Hm?”
“I want to … ah … Reeves, please … talk …”
His hand splayed over the smooth expanse of her stomach while his lips fluttered across her breasts, bringing her nipples alert with longing. “Do you really want to talk? Now?” he asked a second before his mouth settled over hers. The intrusion of his tongue prevented her from speaking, but it made no difference. She had forgotten what she was going to say anyway.
Helmut Eckherdt proffered his hand to Reeves Grant and exclaimed, “Mr. Grant, I’ve barely seen you since your arrival. I hope you have accommodated yourself with food and drink.” His smile was startling in his handsome face, and he was totally unaware of the tension between the photographer and Jordan.
“Thank you, Mr. Eckherdt. I’ve been enjoying myself immensely. More so each minute.” Reeves’s eyes slid over to Jordan, who was standing stoic and pale beside Helmut.
“Oh, excuse me, darling,” Helmut apologized, and tucked her arm under his. “Mr. Reeves Grant, may I present Mrs. Jordan Hadlock. She is a citizen of your country, but not for long, I hope.”
Helmut smiled adoringly down into Jordan’s tight white face as she offered her hand for Reeves to shake. He didn’t take her hand immediately. He paused momentarily. The blood rushed to her head and she felt dizzy. Her mouth went dry. Surely he wouldn’t say anything about last night! He wouldn’t be that callous. Slowly, his hand came up and reached for hers. His fingers wrapped around hers tightly and he shook her hand.
“A pleasure, Mrs. Hadlock,” he said silkily.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“You will be seeing a lot of Reeves—may I call you Reeves?—for the next several days, my dear,” Helmut said. “He is doing a feature on me for an American magazine. He is a photojournalist.”
“I’m familiar with Mr. Grant’s work,” Jordan said quietly. She bravely raised her eyes to meet the bold green ones glaring at her. “I saw your piece on the IRA in Time. It was comprehensive and interesting. You handled a very delicate subject realistically but with compassion.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Hadlock. I thought that this time I’d work on a less depressing topic. I was most eager to meet Mr. Eckherdt. I think the American public will love an article about one of the world’s most affluent men.”
“I would like for Jordan to be included in the article, Reeves. As a matter of fact, you may want to get your camera ready. In a few minutes I’ll be making public our engagement.”
Jordan whirled to face him. “Helmut!” she cried. “Why … why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I wanted it to be a surprise.” His teeth flashed whitely in a dazzling smile. “And if I had told you, you would have thought up another excuse to postpone the inevitable. You will become Mrs. Eckherdt, my darling. It’s only a matter of time. Have you or have you not consented to marry me?”
On a recent excursion to Zermatt, she had
wearily consented to think about marrying him after hours of his playful badgering. She had planned to broach the subject at a later time and reasonably explain to him that she wasn’t ready to marry again. But the time had never been right and now he was going to make official their tentative engagement with an announcement. And Reeves! God, could this be happening?
The beautiful gown, which Helmut had insisted on buying her for this reception, was suddenly constricting. The room was too crowded. The champagne she had drunk seemed to be boiling in her stomach and threatening to come back up. Her head was pounding. And all the while Reeves was standing close and staring at her malevolently.
Jordan felt detached from the scene as she watched Helmut call everyone’s attention to them. Gradually, conversations were hushed, heads were turned, plates of sumptuous food were set aside, as the guests politely turned toward their host.
“I’m sure that most of you have met Jordan by now. It is with pleasure I tell you tonight that she is soon to become my wife.” A rumble of reaction rolled toward them. The women looked at her with envy, the men with appreciation; some, selfishly more concerned with their own private love affairs, seemed only blandly interested.
Jordan recoiled from their staring eyes. Trancelike, she obliged him when Helmut pulled her into his arms and kissed her chastely on the lips. She was aware of a camera flashing on them. Reeves was taking pictures of her kissing another man.
Helmut was speaking again. “To seal our engagement, I want to present Jordan with this ring.” From his pocket he extracted a velvet ring box and flipped it open. He took out a platinum ring on which was mounted the largest, most tastelessly ostentatious emerald-cut diamond Jordan had ever seen. He picked up her clammy, limp left hand and slid the ring on her third finger. It felt as heavy as a ball and chain. She looked up at him and smiled sickly. The camera flashed repeatedly.
She wanted to turn on Reeves and scream at him to stop. This wasn’t real. None of this mattered or had any bearing on what had happened last night, but the flash on the camera was persistent. The crowd undulated toward her to extend their congratulations and view the diamond on her hand.
