by Lucy King
To her great disappointment Alex removed his hand and tilted his head. She should have kept quiet and moaned after all. ‘Why?’
‘My sister is a sleek blonde. I peroxided my hair once but it went green, so I decided to stick to being a sleek brunette instead.’
‘I prefer brunettes. And I prefer ruffled.’
Ruffled was good. Ruffled sounded seductive in a sort of louche sex-kitten kind of way. ‘You do?’
Alex’s eyes gleamed. ‘Uh-huh. And right now, I don’t think you’re ruffled enough.’
‘So what are you going to do about it?’
‘Hmm, let me see… Where shall I start?’ He ran his eyes over her as if assessing every inch of skin. ‘How about here?’ He bent his head and dropped a kiss at the base of her neck. Phoebe shivered. ‘No?’ He hooked a finger over the top of the sheet and pulled it down. ‘All right, how about here?’ He ran a trail of kisses down the slope of her breast and flicked his tongue over her nipple. Phoebe’s back arched and she gasped.
‘Feeling ruffled yet?’ He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. It felt as if he could see right into her soul and Phoebe had the sudden premonition that Alex could turn out to be very bad for her indeed.
‘Getting there,’ she said huskily.
The sound of a phone ringing somewhere downstairs jolted her out of the haze of desire. ‘I thought you didn’t have a phone.’
‘There’s a satellite phone,’ he murmured against her skin.
‘Shouldn’t you go and answer it?’
‘Too late.’
The ringing stopped as the answer machine kicked in.
Phoebe grinned and stretched back. ‘Don’t you just love civilisation?’
‘Where would we be without it?’
‘The Stone Age?’ she said softly. ‘In fact I can just see you in a loin cloth, hunting and gathering.’
Alex lifted his head and his eyes gleamed. ‘I can see you lying on the floor of my cave waiting to be ravished on my return.’
‘I wouldn’t,’ said Phoebe indignantly, thinking how wonderfully wanton that sounded. ‘I’d be decorating. Doing something creative with shells. Drawing on the walls. Or alternatively I’d be sitting with the other cave-women and listening to how they sent their men out for some leaves and roots for supper and they came back with a woolly mammoth.’
Alex laughed and the sound of it rumbled right through her making every nerve ending tingle.
‘Besides, it would be our cave, not just yours.’
Alex pulled back a little and Phoebe wondered what she’d said. ‘Alex?’
‘Phoebe.’ The cool tone of his voice sent an involuntary shiver down her spine. ‘Before we go any further, you should know I’m not looking for a cave with anyone.’
No. In the past five years he hadn’t been photographed with the same woman twice. ‘You’re the one who mentioned me lying in your cave.’
‘Yes, but I didn’t have you decorating.’
If he hadn’t been lying half on top of her, she’d have kicked herself. ‘My mistake. I don’t really like decorating anyway. The decorative arts were shunned in the Jackson household in favour of academia, so I’d probably have to get someone in.’
He frowned. ‘You’re missing my point.’
‘No, I’m not. I understand perfectly well what you mean. You needn’t worry. I’m not going to get all clingy and needy. The last thing I need at this stage in my career is anything serious or heavy.’ She shot him a smouldering smile. ‘But the hot sex is kind of nice.’
‘Nice?’ he murmured. ‘I must be out of practice.’
Yeah right. ‘I guess you have it a lot,’ she said lightly. ‘What with being an international playboy and things.’
‘Not as often as you might imagine. And don’t tell anyone, but I’m not much of a playboy either.’
A kick of something resembling delirious relief punched her in the stomach and alarm bells rang in her ears. Oh, if she wasn’t careful she could find herself careering down such a slippery slope.
‘Ever been in love?’
‘Phoebe…’
‘OK, OK,’ she said, grinning. Neither had she, and frankly the idea of being at the mercy of rampaging emotions made her feel sick just thinking about it. ‘So all those photos… all that arm candy…?’
‘Just arm candy.’ He paused and lifted an eyebrow. ‘Is there anything else you’d like to know?’
Everything, she thought, feeling unaccountably pleased at his answer. She wanted to know everything about him. But not right now… ‘About that hot sex,’ she said, throwing him a coquettish smile. ‘Any chance of some more?’
Alex listened to the soft sound of Phoebe’s breathing as she dozed. Her head lay on his chest, and her arm was flung across his stomach. Sleep, however, eluded him completely. He’d never felt more awake or more alert.
The way Phoebe had responded to him over and over again astounded him. Once she’d had her eyes opened, she’d been insatiable. And he’d been more than willing to help her make up for lost time. But if he wasn’t careful this could get way out of hand. By now, he’d have expected the itch to have gone away. That after the night they’d just had, desire would have faded. But it hadn’t. Quite the opposite. Even now, he could feel himself stirring again.
What was it about her? He stared down at Phoebe’s face and felt a weight shift in his chest. Something bordering on panic gripped his insides and he suddenly felt an odd desperation to escape. He gently lifted her arm and eased himself from beneath her.
Phoebe stirred and made a little sound of protest. ‘Where are you going?’ she said sleepily.
‘To see who that was on the phone. Don’t go anywhere.’
Oh, good Lord. Phoebe stood in the bathroom and stared at her reflection in absolute horror.
When Alex had said he liked her hair like this he had to be lying. Frizzy didn’t even begin to describe the mess. Her hair stuck out at bizarre angles, as a result of her going to sleep with it wet and Alex’s fingers tangling through it all night. Her poor overworked straighteners would never be able to tame this. She needed an industrial tool kit, the likes of which she’d only ever found in a handful of London salons. She’d head to the nearest one just as soon as they landed back on British soil.
And then what? Would Alex suggest dinner? Should she suggest a drink? Nervous excitement fizzled around her stomach. Or might that be too clingy for something which was only about hot sex? She was sailing into uncharted territory here, she realised, frowning at her reflection. She’d better figure out the rules. Maybe she’d ask Alex. He was bound to have a whole string of them.
‘Phoebe.’
The sound of his voice jerked her out of her thoughts. She couldn’t let him see her like this. Horizontal, with her hair spread out over a pillow or his chest was one thing. Vertical was quite another.
‘Just a minute.’
He flung the bathroom door open and as she swung round every niggle about her hair and rules flew from her head. Alex looked absolutely terrible. His face was white. His eyes were stormy grey and filled with concern.
Phoebe’s heart lurched. ‘What’s happened?’
‘We need to leave.’
‘Now?’
‘Immediately.’
‘Why?’
‘That was Jo on the phone.’
Fear gripped her stomach and she clutched at the basin. ‘Is she all right?’
‘Physically she’s fine. Mentally I’m not sure. The press have got hold of a story about her.’
Oh, no. Phoebe went very still. ‘What about?’
‘How much has she told you about her life before design college?’
‘Not a lot. I guess I’d imagined she’d been at school.’
‘She was. While she was there she became anorexic and ended up in a psychiatric hospital.’
Her stomach churned. ‘How long for?’
‘A year.’
God, how awful. Phoebe could barely begin to imagine
what Jo must have gone through. ‘And that’s the story?’
‘In a nutshell.’
So much for her rash assumption that weekends in PR were quiet. She should never have tempted fate like that. Feeling as if the walls were closing in on her Phoebe dragged in a shaky breath. ‘Can I use the phone? I’d like to check my messages.’
Alex nodded briefly. ‘It’s in the study. As soon as you’re ready we’ll leave.’
Thirty-five missed calls.
Fifteen messages before the time had run out.
Messages from Jo. Growing increasingly frantic. From the fashion house wondering what the hell was going on. From journalists asking for comments and verification of the facts. From potential clients cancelling meetings and postponing lunches.
All wanting to know where Phoebe was and why she wasn’t answering her phone.
As realisation dawned her heart began to thud and panic clawed at her stomach. Her palms went damp and a ball of dread lodged in her throat. A bolt of sheer terror gripped her insides and squeezed. Her vision went fuzzy as a wave of nausea reared up from her stomach to her throat. Blindly Phoebe stumbled to the window, threw it open and sucked in great gulps of air.
Everything she’d ever worked for, everything Jo had ever worked for, hung in the balance. She knew the field she worked in well. If she was there, on the scene, she’d be able to reassure people that she was in full control and handling the crisis. If she was there she’d be able to divert disaster.
Instead where was she? Miles away. And what had she been doing while Jo was falling to pieces and her whole life was threatening to implode? Laughing and talking and exploring the new-found delights of sexual ecstasy with Alex.
Phoebe felt like banging her head against the desk as a tidal wave of guilt flooded through her. She’d allowed herself to get distracted and taken her eye off the ball. How could she have been so stupid?
And the principle thought running round and round her head on the tense and fraught journey back to London was that it had happened again.
Phoebe read the story for the third time, then closed the newspaper and tried to rally her spirits, but it was as bad as she’d imagined.
According to the report, Jo had once had a boyfriend who’d bullied her, nagged her about her weight and introduced her to diet pills, which had led to addiction, extreme anorexia and the subsequent hospitalisation.
She could scarcely believe that the girl described in the article and the girl sitting next to her on the sofa were one and the same.
‘Is all of this true?’ Phoebe said, more to break the taut silence than out of any necessity to know the answer. Whether it was true or not, the damage had already been done, as the messages on her mobile and in her inbox testified.
‘Pretty much.’ Jo sniffed. Her eyes were red and puffy, but she was holding up remarkably well given the circumstances.
‘Is there any more?’
‘No.’
Thank goodness for that. ‘Why didn’t I know about this?’
‘No one does,’ said Alex flatly.
Phoebe glanced over at him and steeled herself against the effect Alex had on her brain. She really needed a clear head at the moment. ‘Well, someone clearly does… A source close to Ms Douglas…’ She turned to Jo. ‘Can you think of anyone that might be? Someone who worked at the hospital perhaps?’
Jo sighed. ‘I suspect it might have been Mark.’
A stunned hush fell over the room.
‘Mark?’ Alex’s voice sliced through the silence like a whip.
Jo slumped back against her worktable. ‘I might have mentioned that I once had problems with my weight and I haven’t been able to get hold of him since the party.’
Phoebe’s brain raced. ‘If he was broke, then he may well have sold what he knew to the papers. Once a journalist gets the sniff of a story it usually doesn’t take much digging to uncover the rest.’
The memory of Mark’s drunken threats flashed into her head and she cast a quick glance at Alex. The haggard look on his face told her that he’d come to a similar conclusion.
‘I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you called.’
Jo gave her a wan smile. ‘It doesn’t matter. You’re here now. But where were you? I’ve never not been able to get hold of you before.’
Jo sounded more curious than accusatory, but that didn’t stop guilt washing over her. ‘I was away,’ said Phoebe. ‘On business. Last minute. It won’t happen again.’
She shot a quick look at Alex, whose face had turned even stonier. ‘I’ll organise a press conference as soon as possible and we’ll sort this out. Jo,’ she said with more confidence than she felt, ‘you’ve come a long way since then. It’ll be OK.’
Alex had barely been able to resist the urge to hurl the paper against the wall when he’d read the article. The only part they’d left out was that Jo’s ex-boyfriend had been his business partner. A man he thought he’d known inside out. His best friend. Who’d nearly destroyed Jo and had nearly ruined him.
He kept his gaze fixed on his sister and battled the shock that she’d so casually let slip to Mark something he’d taken such pains to keep buried. Hadn’t she learned from him? Hadn’t he warned her about the dangers of trusting people? About what happened if you let someone get near you?
Alex’s hands clenched into fists and he had to stamp down on the urge to hunt Mark down and beat him to a pulp. The night of the pre-launch party slammed into his head. The threats and the warnings as he’d dragged Mark out of the pond that he’d dismissed as drunken ramblings. The debts. All tiny little clues that Mark might be a danger. And he’d ignored them.
The moment he’d seen the headlines, guilt had started attacking him on all sides. Firstly for failing to protect Jo. Again. A second blast had struck him when he’d realised that Jo had needed him and he hadn’t been there. As if that hadn’t been enough for one man in one lifetime, guilt also prickled that he’d lured Phoebe away for the weekend when she ought to have been here for his sister.
He glanced over at her and there it was again, another arrow of guilt piercing his chest. Because despite the torment his sister was suffering, the main thought rattling round his brain was how soon he could get Phoebe back into his bed.
A wave of weariness swept through him. He’d been carrying around the burden of guilt for five years now. It had clung to his shoulders like a heavy mantle, dragging him down, and he was so tired of it.
His gaze flickered over to his sister. She was listening to Phoebe outlining the strategy for sorting out the mess, and it struck him that she seemed a lot calmer and more confident than he’d have imagined in the circumstances. In fact she appeared to be more concerned with the effect that Mark’s revelations might have on her career rather than on her personally.
Phoebe was right, he realised with something of a shock. Jo had come a long way since then. She didn’t need him to pick up the pieces any longer. So why was he still beating himself up over something that Jo had clearly decided to get over?
Would it really be so bad if he dispensed with the guilt? Jo had told him time and time again that she didn’t hold him in any way responsible for what had happened to her, but up until now he had resolutely resisted the temptation to forgive himself. And what good was that doing anyone?
Jo might have come a long way, but he hadn’t, he acknowledged reluctantly. If his sister was able to get over what had happened and get on with things, why shouldn’t he?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
JO AND THE last of the journalists left the room where the press conference had been held and Phoebe slumped back into her chair.
Thank God. It was over and she never wanted to go through anything like it again. She could scarcely believe how close she’d come to losing everything. She felt dizzy just thinking about it.
But she’d pulled it off. She’d spent the last twenty-four hours working like a demon with her phone permanently glued to her ear while she slowly repaired their reputations. An
d it had paid off. Jo had been brilliant and the fashion house deal was back on.
Phoebe herself was back in control and she didn’t intend to lose it again. Ever. If that meant no more hot sex with Alex, then so be it.
She ignored the little voice in her head telling her she was a fool to let something so fantastic go. But it was only sex, and she couldn’t afford to slip up again. The way she’d been so out of control on Saturday night, so at the mercy of her body’s needs, terrified her and she wanted no more of it.
She might not be able to avoid Alex altogether, she thought, folding her arms on the table and resting her forehead on them, but she could certainly make sure she never slept with him again.
Alex strode back into the hotel conference room and cleared his throat. Phoebe jumped and jerked back. ‘You look like you could do with this,’ he said, placing a cup of coffee in front of her.
That was an understatement. Phoebe looked awful. Dark circles ringed her eyes and her face was pale.
‘Oh. Er, thanks. I didn’t see you earlier.’
He sat on the edge of the table and watched her carefully. ‘I was lurking at the back. Congratulations.’
‘Thank you.’ She gave him a wan smile. ‘And thank you for keeping out of things.’
Alex lifted a shoulder. ‘It was part of the deal. Have you missed me?’
Phoebe’s gaze snapped to his face. ‘No,’ she said quickly, and then began to shuffle the papers on the table.
Alex grinned. ‘What are you doing for the rest of the afternoon?’
‘Work, I imagine.’
‘You ought to get some rest.’ Preferably in his bed.
‘I ought to get going.’
‘Do you ever stop?’
‘At the moment I can’t afford to stop,’ she said with a brief humourless smile that made him frown. ‘You’ve been involved with new businesses. You must know that they require attention every hour of the day and night.’
True. And investing in new businesses meant a similar kind of commitment. But Alex recognised the signs of exhaustion and the way Phoebe was going she’d collapse before long.
