Unexpected Pleasures

by Penny Jordan

  He bent and touched her face gently, unable to resist the temptation to do so, and then, straightening his back, he went downstairs.

  In the sitting-room Rosie’s empty glass was on the floor beside the sofa and with it, almost tucked beneath the sofa, was her bra.

  He picked it up and took it upstairs, placing it with her other clothes, remembering the way she had responded to him when he had kissed her breasts, the eager feminine response her body had given him. It wasn’t just her physical response he wanted, though. It was her love as well.

  * * *

  ROSIE WOKE UP RELUCTANTLY, conscious of the dryness of her mouth, of the unfamiliar deepness of her sleep, of the way her head ached.

  She moved it slightly on the pillow, frowning as she realised she was not in her own bed.

  Immediately she remembered what had happened, her face flushing with mortification as she remembered the way she had cast aside all her normal restraint, all her self-control...the things she had said...the things she had done... Most especially the things she had done... Her face burned hotly as she shuddered in mute self-disgust.

  It must have been the wine. That and the shock of seeing Ritchie...of discovering that Jake Lucas had not disliked and despised her.

  Shock did odd things to people.

  Including inciting them to physical desire... She pushed the thought aside, throwing back the duvet and then tensing as she realised what she was wearing...or rather what she wasn’t wearing.

  Jake must have undressed her before putting her to bed...undressed her and then wrapped her in one of his own shirts.

  Beneath its fine cotton covering she could see the flushed areolae of her breasts. They had looked like that last night after Jake had kissed them. A tight ball of angry guilt exploded inside her.

  How could she have behaved like that, let such a thing happen—wanted such a thing to happen, and to the extent that, if she had not suddenly remembered the danger that lay in having sex with someone without taking precautions against conception, this morning she could well have been waking up in Jake’s bed, not this one... In Jake’s bed...perhaps even in Jake’s arms...?

  The feeling that swept over her appalled her. What was happening to her? Twenty-four hours ago, the last man she could ever have imagined as her lover had been Jake Lucas, and now... She didn’t want him as a lover now either, she told herself fiercely. All she wanted to do was to get up, get dressed and get away from here as quickly as she possibly could, so that she could forget that the whole thing had happened.

  What had possessed her to break down in front of him like that...to tell him things she had never imagined she would ever share with anyone, to reveal to him emotions, fears, needs so private that she had thought she would never be able to express them to anyone?

  And yet strangely it had been easy sharing them with Jake... He had made it easy.

  Until that moment when she had remembered, realised what she was doing, and she had cried out to him her fear of conceiving another child that she might lose.

  She closed her eyes, trying to blot out her memory of the look on his face.

  Where was he now? Downstairs waiting for her to put in an appearance...so that he could question her?

  Anxiously she looked towards the door and realised that her clothes were on a chair several feet away from the bed, neatly folded with a note propped up against them. The note read,

  Had to go out for an hour. Made fresh coffee at 10.00 am. Aspirins in cupboard if needed.

  Fresh coffee... She closed her eyes; she could almost smell it...taste its hot, reviving flavour. As for the aspirins... She grimaced to herself before swinging her feet on to the floor and then wincing as her head pounded painfully.

  Her bedroom had its own bathroom, well equipped with everything that she might need, including a new toothbrush. Jake’s Mrs Lindow did her job very well, even if she didn’t like fresh flowers, Rosie admitted. A hot shower, followed by a final cold rinse that made her skin tingle and the breath lock in her throat, helped to bring her properly round from her deep sleep, a much deeper sleep than she ever seemed to enjoy in her own home.

  The silk dress was remarkably uncreased, although Rosie grimaced a little at having to put on clothes she had already worn.

  She also felt acutely aware of the fact that the dress was quite obviously not the kind of thing she would have worn for her normal daytime activities. It looked what it was, she decided fretfully as she hurriedly brushed her hair. A ‘going somewhere’ dress, totally unsuitable for something like yesterday’s party, and totally unsuitable for a Monday morning.

  If only her car were outside and she could simply drive home. As it was she would have to ring for a taxi and hope that it arrived before Jake did.

  The thought of seeing him, of knowing what he was thinking...remembering...made her shudder with self-loathing.

  How could she have been so undisciplined, so uncontrolled?

  She had been under a lot of stress recently, both from her work and from far more personal emotions. Look at the way she had reacted to Chrissie’s announcement about the baby.

  The baby... She tensed abruptly, forgetting her desire to escape before Jake returned.

  She had told Jake about her baby. Or as good as. How could she have done that? Why had she done it?

  The rest of the evening, the fact that she had both wanted and encouraged Jake to make love to her, and the uneasy fear-cum-anger those memories had been causing her, suddenly faded to nothing. They were nothing in comparison to her final, her unbelievable act of self-betrayal in telling Jake about her baby.

  She closed her eyes, remembering the sharp incredulity in his voice as he questioned her, the deep anger in his eyes. She could recall them so clearly that she was forced to marvel at the brain’s apparent ability to function independently of its owner’s befuddled state.

  She had to get away from here and fast, she told herself in panic.

  She had to get away from Jake and to keep away.

  She hurried downstairs and into the kitchen, glancing tensely at the clock on the wall as she looked around for a telephone and a directory.

  Half-past ten. She couldn’t have woken up much after Jake had gone. She had half an hour before he came back.

  If she was lucky she might just be able to get away.

  She saw a telephone mounted on the wall, but couldn’t see any directory with it. The rich smell of the coffee distracted her, and she was looking longingly towards it, tempted to pour herself some, when without warning the back door opened.

  She tensed immediately, her body feeling as though the blood was draining quickly from it as she went cold with shock, only it wasn’t Jake who came in, it was his cousin’s wife, and with her was an older woman whom Rosie knew vaguely. She was approximately the same age as her own mother, and Rosie seemed to remember that she had been very friendly with Ritchie’s parents when they lived locally.

  Both women came to an abrupt halt as they saw Rosie. Naomi Lucas spoke first, her thin, tanned face relaxing a little, the smile she gave Rosie genuinely warm and friendly as she apologised quickly for startling her.

  ‘Jake gave me a key and told me to come and go as I pleased. Helen is taking me shopping, and I asked her if we could stop off on the way to warn Jake that Ritchie and the boys are likely to descend on him.’ She pulled a slight face and Rosie recognised the tension behind her smile.

  ‘Ritchie isn’t very good with children. Jake is much better. Australian men, or at least the more traditional of them, don’t always take easily to the responsibilities of parenthood.’

  It was on the tip of Rosie’s tongue to point out that Ritchie was not an Australian but British, but she caught back the words, reminding herself that Naomi was Ritchie’s wife and obviously loved him, while she disliked him and felt antag
onistic towards him.

  The friendliness of Naomi’s manner surprised her a little, as the previous day she had felt that the other woman was regarding her with some hostility.

  Feeling both uncomfortable and vulnerable, and all too aware of the speculative glances Naomi’s companion was giving her, Rosie was just wondering how on earth she could make some rational explanation for her presence here in Jake’s kitchen when Naomi smiled at her again and said warmly, ‘I hadn’t realised yesterday that you and Jake were together... I’m sorry if I seemed a bit offhand. I guess Jake would have got round to introducing us officially sooner or later. We’ve only just arrived here, after all. Is Jake going to be long?’

  Rosie could neither move nor speak. The shock of what Naomi had just said had robbed her of the ability to do either.

  She had known yesterday, of course, that Jake’s behaviour was bound to give rise to some speculation and gossip, but this morning she had told herself firmly that if she ignored it and just pretended nothing had happened then everyone else was bound to follow suit. But now, with those casual, friendly words, Naomi had unsuspectingly, but very, very definitely, made that completely impossible.

  She could see Helen Steadings—she had just managed to recall the woman’s name—looking speculatively at her and taking in the significance of the silk dress she had been wearing yesterday afternoon and was still wearing this morning, and Rosie felt her face start to burn painfully and betrayingly.

  She might just as well have stood in the town square and told everyone that she had spent the night with Jake, she recognised bleakly as she saw Helen Steadings’s speculation turn to certainty.

  To Naomi it might not be important that she and Jake had spent the night together, and Rosie knew rationally that these days there was nothing unusual in a couple of her and Jake’s age having a sexual relationship if they chose to do so, but Helen Steadings knew, as well as Rosie did herself, that Rosie was simply not in the habit of having that kind of relationship. Her heart sank as she recognised the interested curiosity in Helen

  Steadings’s scrutiny of her. It was not even as though she could come up with any logical or reasonable excuse to explain away her presence in Jake’s house in Jake’s absence, something strong enough to refute

  Naomi’s innocent assumption that they were established lovers, and anyway, Rosie acknowledged sickly, it was too late for that now.

  The time for that had been immediately after Naomi had started to speak, not now, far too many telling seconds later.

  ‘Well, I guess there’s no need for us to wait for Jake now,’ Naomi was saying cheerfully. ‘You must both come over to the hotel and have dinner with us. Jake can—’

  ‘Jake can what?’

  Rosie’s stomach muscles cramped involuntarily as she heard Jake’s voice and realised that she had been so caught up in her dismay that she hadn’t heard him returning.

  Neither, it seemed, had Naomi, because she turned round quickly, smiling at him, exclaiming, ‘Jake...I didn’t hear you come in...I was just saying to Rosie that the two of you must come and have dinner with us... I called to warn you that Ritchie is in charge of the boys and that they might all descend on you.’

  It was instinct rather than habit that made Rosie step back into the shadow of the kitchen’s large dresser. If she could have disappeared altogether she would have been only too happy to do so, she acknowledged miserably.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell us about Rosie?’ she heard Naomi demanding teasingly. ‘I had no idea until yesterday that the two of you...’

  Rosie thought she had successfully stifled the small moan of protest she could feel rising in her throat, but Jake had obviously heard it because he lifted his head and stared straight at her.

  His eyes looked different this morning, silver rather than grey, alive with a warmth she had never seen in them before... It must be for Naomi, she decided wretchedly. It certainly couldn’t have been caused by her. Her stomach trembled nauseously as she remembered the previous evening.

  How on earth, why on earth, had she got herself involved in such an appalling situation? Thank God her parents were away. Hopefully the gossip might have died down before they returned. Chrissie would hear it, though-Chrissie! What on earth was she going to say to her sister?

  Chrissie was bound to demand to know what was going on, why she had not been told anything about Rosie’s supposed relationship with Jake Lucas. Outwardly she might not show it, but inwardly she would be hurt by what she would perceive as Rosie’s secretiveness.

  And yet Rosie knew that she could not tell her the truth, that not even to her own sister could she betray her own lack of self-control, of self-respect.

  It had been Chrissie who, when she was a teenager, had sternly pointed out to her what boys thought about girls who had no respect for themselves. An old-fashioned view now, perhaps, but one which Rosie suspected her sister still held.

  What on earth was she going to say, to do...? She could feel the panic starting to build up inside her. Perhaps she could appeal to Helen Steadings...ask her to forget what she had seen...heard; perhaps...

  ‘We haven’t told anyone yet, have we, darling? Not officially.’

  Jake’s voice broke into her frantic thoughts. He was coming towards her, his smile as tender as his voice.

  ‘Selfishly we wanted to keep the way we feel about one another to ourselves for a little while longer. We haven’t even told Rosie’s family yet...’

  Immediately Naomi pounced, clapping her hands together in excitement.

  ‘Jake, you mean that you and Rosie...? When do you intend to get married? Will it be while we’re here? What a pity the boys aren’t younger, they could have been pages...’

  Rosie made a strangled sound in her throat. Jake was standing in front of her, shielding her from sight, but he could see her and she could see him. She knew he must be able to see the panic in her eyes, and the shamed guilt.

  Why on earth had Jake had to bring her back here with him last night? If he had simply taken her straight home, none of this would have happened.

  ‘Is there going to be an official engagement party?’ she heard Naomi asking. ‘Or—’

  Jake turned round. ‘That’s for Rosie to decide,’ she heard him saying easily. ‘As for a wedding—’ he turned back to Rosie, his eyes sombre as he reached out and touched her face gently, tenderly, causing her to stare at him in dumb bemusement ‘—naturally, Rosie wants to wait until her parents get back for that, don’t you, my love?’

  His love... Rosie swallowed. What on earth was he doing...saying...? Didn’t he realise that with every word he uttered he was making things a hundred, a thousand times worse, not just for her, but for both of them?

  Where initially she had been pleased, grateful almost, to him for giving her presence in his home, in his bed, a covering cloak for semi-respectability, now she was appalled that he could have let things go so far.

  To protect her...to protect both of them by concealing the fact that her intimacy with him had been caused by her own lack of self-control, that it had in fact been a potentially tawdry and merely sexual encounter, was one thing; to go over the top in the way he had just done and to imply that they were making plans and as good as engaged...

  And that was what he had done. She could hear Naomi asking excitedly if she had as yet chosen her ring, and exclaiming to Helen Steadings that she was thrilled to bits with Jake’s wonderful news.

  It isn’t true, Rosie wanted to tell them, none of it’s true. But just as though Jake sensed the impulse exploding inside her his thumb brushed lightly against her mouth as though to silence her.

  It did more than that...much, much more. Her senses and emotions, presumably still heightened by tension and stress, reacted immediately to his touch, flooding her with sensuality and awareness, reminding her of how she had felt the prev
ious evening when he had touched her...kissed her. She could actually feel her body starting to tremble, her self-control starting to slide. A feeling of helpless anguish filled her, anger against herself and against Jake too, humiliation because of the way she felt and because she was sure he must know what was happening to her as well.

  Ever since she had woken up she had been telling herself that what had happened last night could never have done so if she hadn’t been upset in the first place, if she hadn’t drunk all that wine, more than enough to have a disastrous effect on someone who normally never touched alcohol at all. That had been her protection, her escape, her defence against what had happened, and now with one light touch Jake had destroyed those protective barriers, showing her that physically she was as vulnerable to him, as responsive to his touch sober as she had been drunk.

  She heard Helen Steadings saying something about them having to go. Jake moved away from her, escorting the two other women to the door, but not before Naomi had hugged her briefly and told her how pleased she was about their news.

  It wasn’t Naomi’s fault, Rosie reminded herself while Jake was walking them to their car. Naomi wasn’t the one who had drunk three glasses of wine and then proceeded to pour her heart out to Jake...to cling to him and make those small moaning sounds of pleasure which still echoed hauntingly in Rosie’s own ears.

  No, but she had come round here this morning and she had brought Helen Steadings with her and, but for that, Rosie might just have been able to escape without anyone knowing that she had spent the night here under Jake’s roof.

  All right, so there had been that small incident at the party but, alarmed as that had made her at the time, it had been nothing compared to this.

  When Jake walked back into the kitchen she was still standing where he had left her. The look on her face made him ache to take hold of her and comfort her, to tell her that everything was going to be all right. Instead he simply asked calmly, ‘Would you like some coffee?’