She was still trembling, legs turned to something closer to blancmange than jelly when he eased his grip on her hips, rocked the bike. She yelped, grabbed at his shoulders and he laughed. A deep down belly laugh that didn’t help her regain control one bit. “Good job the neighbours haven’t got back yet.”
She ran her tongue over her parched lips. “Darling Daddy would not be pleased.”
“And, how about his darling daughter?”
“His darling daughter is very pleased thank you.”
He smiled, the first real smile she’d seen on his face that day. “You’re impossible.” Then he gently lifted her off him and stood her back at the side of the bike, shaking his head as he looked her up and down. “Totally impossible.” He zipped up, pulled his helmet on. And kicked the bike into action.
“There isn’t anything going on between me and Sly.” With the roar of the bike she didn’t think he’d heard her, but she needed to say it. He slowly swept the motorbike in a large circle, total control, gave a final shake of his head then headed towards the gate.
Georgie glanced down. What was happening to her? She liked designer clothes and high heels and she was stood semi clothed on the driveway, one boot on and one boot off with sopping knickers. She looked back up and he was still at the bottom of the drive, and she knew he was staring, even though his helmet visor shaded his eyes.
She smiled, and then she laughed. She couldn’t help it. And she was still laughing as he revved the bike up, spinning gravel and kicking out fumes as he did a wheelie out of the gates.
Chapter Eight
“Fuck.” Georgie sat on the loo seat with her head in her hands and considered all the things she could do. Like commit suicide, leave the country… drink a bottle of gin. Funny wasn’t it, how every time she thought she’d got a plan sorted, life karate-chopped it dead? Not so funny.
She straightened up. The other option was go to the frigging party and drop the all-time clanger of her life. Or she could just keep her mouth zipped until she thought of a better idea. She pulled herself up, clammy palms against the cool ceramic of the wash basin and stared at her reflection. She still looked the same, but inside she felt like she’d just leapt off a cliff and was free falling like an autumn leaf, spinning into oblivion.
Get a grip girl. She screwed up her mouth. You’re not unique, it happens all the time. But not to me. People sort it. You can sort it. It might not even be true. But it was, she knew it was.
Her periods had always been regular, bang on time from the day they’d started. Within an hour. The only predictable thing in her life. And when she’d been late, she’d actually been convinced she had got the dates wrong. Her body didn’t do things like this to her.
And then she’d felt queasy at the smell of a large brandy and she knew. Brandy had always smelled good, a heady smell that hit the back of her throat with a satisfying heat even before she took a sip. Her body was seriously doing a u-turn on her and there was only one possible reason.
She was pregnant.
Christ, she hoped she didn’t go off chocolate as well. That really would be the pits. And what about sex? Or wasn’t being pregnant supposed to make you more randy? She certainly hadn’t noticed her libido take a nose dive, even if everything else had.
She needed a plan, and the sooner the better. She’d never craved for kids, no way did she want a baby in her life. She’d seen the devastating effect they could have. If her mother hadn’t been pregnant she wouldn’t have walked off with her toy boy, and she was convinced that if Carol hadn’t entered a breeding programme like an eager stud mare, then Alfie would still be the dad she used to love. Which reminded her…
Party. She had to concentrate on the party. She had to get changed, slap on a thick layer of make-up and pretend she was the same Georgie she’d always been, not the one with the bottomless pit opening up in front of her. And she had to go with Jake. Standing him up might be a better idea, she could tell him he’d been uninvited, or it had been cancelled – no, he’d expect them to go out somewhere else then. And she’d actually been looking forward to going out with him, well, him accompanying her. Bugger.
He was a quick fling, nothing more, what was happening to her? She felt like collapsing on the bed and putting her head in her hands again. Since when had Jake been so important in her life? Since she’d woken up with a smile on her face looking forward to working the horses with him. Since she realised she missed him when they had days apart, days when she drifted not quite sure what to do. Picking up her phone to text him, then realising she’d already sent ten that morning already.
He was a friend. That was all. They’d got friendly. Shared a sense of humour and a love of horses. Simple.
And now she was pretty sure they were about to share a hell of a lot more. Oh hell, what was she going to do?
By the time she’d pulled herself together there wasn’t much time to do anything else but shrug herself into the first little black dress she found in the wardrobe. And she was just peeling on black stockings when the doorbell went – and so did the stockings, an almighty ladder from knee to mid-thigh. She gave a small scream of frustration, tugged them off and threw them across the room. The ‘bell went again, this time he’d obviously decided to keep his finger on it. Okay, okay keep your hair on. And again in sharp bursts that pierced straight through her head and out the other side. She so wasn’t up to this tonight.
Grabbing her stilettos she stomped her way to the door, undecided whether to try a withering look and sarcastic comment or to pull the big girl pants on and admit the whole disaster of her life was down to her and her alone, and not take it out on anyone else.
He was stood finger poised over the doorbell. But she wasn’t really bothered about that any more. Devastating. And not in a ‘I’m devastated because I’ve just found out your baby is growing inside me, and we’re so not suited, and I so don’t want a baby’ kind of devastated. No. Deva-sta-ting. Red hot, grab me while you can, oozing sexuality in a barely covered layer of respectability kind of devastating.
She’d not seen him suited and booted before, she hadn’t even been able to imagine it, well it had never occurred to her. Jake was leathers and boots, torn jeans and ripped t-shirts, earthy and dirty. Shag on a motorbike sexy. This Jake was ten times more dangerous, her nipples had gone on red alert and the turmoil in her stomach had been suspended.
There was a good chance her mouth was hanging open, and more than a chance that her knickers were damp given the tingling at the top of her thighs and the little urgent pulse between them. Bye ‘bye party, hello bed.
“Ready?” He lifted an eyebrow, dark eyes taking her in from tip to toe in a way that made her heat up from the inside out like a halogen hob.
“Shoes.” She tore her gaze away, realising that she was giving him as much of a once over as he was giving her. “Bare feet are so not in the look right now. Unless, you’d like to…?”
The laugh was throaty and dirty, then he wrapped an arm round her waist and pulled her up tight against his body. A body that had a very firm bulge in exactly the right place. He moved in, but his lips didn’t meet hers, they homed in on her neck. That sensitive spot behind her ear, where her hairline stopped. His warm tongue traced a path down towards her collarbone and she groaned, squeezed her thighs tighter together, and pressed her hips against his so she could rub against his erection. He gently sucked, teeth nipping at her skin and now her knickers were definitely damp, more than damp. She couldn’t help it, she lifted a leg, wrapped it around his firm body, shivered as the warmth of his hand drifted down to cradle her bottom.
“You,” he was gazing into her eyes, firm dry lips brushing over hers, “are so rude.” Strong white teeth tugged at her lower lip as his firm fingers slid between her thighs, stroked over the thin fabric of her panties. “And so wet.” One finger slipped under the fabric and she all but whimpered, it nudged between her swollen lips and she gave up on the idea of trying to answer back, her breath was coming to
o short and all she wanted to concentrate on was those fingers. “We’re going to be late for the party.” His breath whispered over her ear, sending a rash of goose bumps down her neck and arms.
“We could skip it.” But even as her pussy was clutching at his fingers, he was easing away from her. He smiled, slow and lazy, put his hands on her hips and held her at arm’s length. Which wasn’t where she wanted to be.
“No way, you’re not wimping out.”
“I’m not a wimp.”
“Well I’m quite looking forward to seeing how the other half lives.”
“The other half?” She laughed. Annoyed he’d stopped, pleased he still had hold of her. “This is going to be so stuffy and boring you know. A shag would be better?” Always worth one last try.
“The shag is the after dinner finale.”
“Spoilsport.”
“You got it, and you will get it later, promise.” He kissed the tip of her nose and she felt stupidly happy. “Shoes.”
***
“So, are you going to introduce me as the bad guy who shags you on his motorbike?”
She was staring at the big door like it was the gate to hell. “No, I’ve got a better idea. I’m going to introduce you as Richard, Richard Gere.” She grinned that grin that never failed to fill him with the urge to get her in a dark corner, even though there was still a trace of that queasiness lurking deep down in her eyes. He wanted to say they didn’t have to go in, but he was going to damned well keep that to himself. Hell, he had actually wanted to wrap his arms round her and do something that would make them both a lot happier, but he’d resisted the urge.
“Ha, very funny. Why do you keep calling this a Valentine’s Ball? Even I know it’s three months early.”
“It’s a pre Valentine’s Ball.” Her tone of voice said, ‘weren’t you listening?’ but it sounded too weird for him. “And it’s not me that’s called it that, it’s her.” The tension was building up in her voice.
“Yeah, so you said, but…”
“She calls it that because she’s stupid. It’s the anniversary of her and Alfie meeting.” She made a motion of two fingers down her throat and he laughed, even though he was trying not it. “Puke making, but it gets worse, they got hitched on Valentine’s Day.”
“He’s a quick mover.” Bravado was coming out of her mouth, but he couldn’t miss the hurt shining in her eyes.
“She is, more like. Once she’d got her claws in.” She was glaring at him, as though she was expecting him to say something. So he shrugged. The glare turned to a wary look. “You don’t know her.”
“I might do soon.”
“So she insists on having this stupid party and calling it a Pre Valentine Ball so she can ‘keep him to herself on Valentine’s Day’, yucky.”
“I take it you don’t approve of Valentine’s Day and being romantic then?”
“Got it in one. And why the fuck would you bring it up before Christmas if you weren’t just attention grabbing? Valentine’s Ball my arse. Why can’t they just have a Christmas party like everyone else?”
“Maybe it’s true love?”
“And I’m a nun. Love is just another bloody four letter word.”
He laughed at her indignation and she actually grinned. “So why did we come?”
“He keeps pestering, and I know it will annoy her.”
“Not nice.”
She shrugged, but the look on her face was more little girl lost, than bitchy party pooper. He resisted the urge to put his arm round her. “If I go in there with you, then you behave. Okay?” But he had a feeling she would anyway, something was different about Georgie these days. She seemed softer around the edges, more like the old Georgina. And even the Carol jibes had lost their edge, as though even she wasn’t convinced that her step-mother was quite the wicked witch she’d once portrayed her. “Okay?”
“God, you are so bossy, and,” she paused, that taunting glimmer in her eye, “boring.”
“I didn’t come here to be just something else to throw in your dad’s face, Georgina. I told you, I’m not going to be used.” He let his gaze drift over her, he wasn’t going to rise to the taunt, but he wasn’t going to let it go. “Boring, eh?”
“I’m not trying to use you.” She pouted. Even more shaggable. “Maybe abuse you later.” Raised those arched eyebrows a little bit higher and all but winked.
Jake shook his head and wondered for the hundredth time why he’d agreed to this. There were two obvious answers, one the urge to shag her senseless still hadn’t diminished one iota, and the other was that she was still a complete mystery to him. If he was going to divert her from her ludicrous plan to claim her field back, then he had to know why she was so keen to have it in the first place. The thought of speaking to her father had crossed his mind, briefly, but he was still ashamed it had even occurred to him. She had enough issues with her family, without him adding to them.
He was happy the way things were, he hadn’t wanted to commit to staying, but he didn’t want to leave either. Which Rowena knew, and was playing on. And Georgie’s idea to work together was the worst yet. She’d get fed up of playing ponies at some point and sell up, leaving him in the lurch, or even before that happened there was a good chance that the lust would take a nosedive and he’d want to move on. And then what? He didn’t want to get tied to the land, and he definitely didn’t want to get tied to a woman. Even a very sexy one like the girl stood in front of him.
“Get the doorbell rung, girl. No after dinner treats until we’ve had the main course.”
She stuck her tongue out, but reached out to ring the bell with one hand, and reached for him with the other.
***
Jake recognised Alfie the moment he walked across the room. Tall and slim, an unmistakeable air of authority which came from wealth and education, just like Georgie. She had obviously got the delicate beauty, the refinement and her air of innocence and doubts from her mother – but the rest came from Dad. And Jake guessed that the stubborn side of her nature came from her father, mixed with a naughtiness from her mother. Which added up to one hell of a dangerous package.
Carol was nothing like he’d imagined. Warm, welcoming, a mother figure and he could see without trying that she would have been at a loss when it came to dealing with the difficult teenager that Georgie was turning into when they’d first met. They were opposites, in a love match it might have worked, in the land of step-parent, defiant daughter there was no way.
Her eyes darted anxiously from Jake to Georgie, then up to Alfie. But when he glanced at Alfie himself, the steady gaze was fixed firmly, no wavering there. And it was fixed on him.
“You’re Harcourt’s son aren’t you?”
He was surprised the man had recognised a nobody like him, even more surprised that there didn’t seem to be judgement in the tone. Early days though.
He nodded. “I am. Jake.”
“Pleased to meet you again.” The handshake was firm, just like he’d expected. But he hadn’t expected the hand on his shoulder. “It’s been a long time. A lot of water under the bridge, eh?”
“You could say that.” Any minute now it would be dredged up. The fall from grace.
“I liked your father, he was a good man, could sell ice to the Eskimos that one.” He chuckled, but there didn’t seem to be any rancour there. “And what line are you in then, Jake?”
Jake blinked. So, that was it? No digging into what had gone wrong?
Georgie watched her father warily. She really hadn’t wanted to come to this party, the one bonus had been bringing the ultra-sexy Jake with her, which was bound to piss off the match-making Alfie and Carol, who wanted her to pair up with the respectable son of one of their respectable friends. Trouble was, Jake didn’t look quite the same bad boy when he dressed up, he still looked sexy and edgy enough to make every woman in the room ogle, but he almost looked like the kind of respectable she’d been avoiding. Which was a bit shitty, so was the way Alfie and Carol were fa
wning over him.
But that wasn’t the worst of it. She’d felt ill when she’d got up, and still felt decidedly rocky now, even worse now she’d worked out what was causing it. It was a bit like the morning after the night before, except she’d stayed in and ate chocolates while she watched a film. It was the kind of feeling that you were just waiting to come back. And dressing up to go out hadn’t helped one bit. In fact, dressing up had made it worse.
Carol was almost pawing at Jake and a different kind of nausea bit at her. “I’ll introduce Jake to a few other people shall I?” She linked her arm through his, any second now Carol would be asking if his intentions were honourable if she didn’t do something, and quick.
“Oh, don’t worry Georgina, I’m sure your father would love to have a man to man, you and I can have a catch up.” The wicked witch had caught hold of his other arm, steering him the way she wanted. “We’ve not seen each other for ages.” She gave a false cheery smile that made her flinch.
“It’s been a few weeks, that’s all.” And I really don’t want to talk to either of you.
Jake winked at her, untangled himself and squeezed her bum. Which was good and bad. Good for the naughty tingle, bad for the fact she’d been cornered. Shit, talking to Carol was not on the agenda at all. Talking to her father could be awkward, but Carol dug, deep. Like a bloody hormonal terrier that had lost a rat. At least Alfie kept it to the basics. Ten minutes in the Carol corner and she’d be owning up to shagging half the county, or bursting into tears and telling all. And she really didn’t want to do either, but given the choice…
“We do miss you, you know.”
Yeah, like a hole in the head. “I’m a bad influence on the children.”
“We never said that.”
Oh, God, the nice approach just made her feel guilty. Guilty for not being the perfect daughter, guilty for making their lives hell. “You didn’t have to, it’s pretty obvious even to me when I’m not welcome.” Even as she said the words, her heart wasn’t really in it. It was just habit, the easy way out.
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