by Sandra Field
Seeing her gaze was fixed on the jagged cut on his upper arm, he added, ‘It gave way just as I got the window open.’
‘I—I’m sorry,’ she stammered.
‘I’m glad to hear it.’
‘Not for locking you in.’ The rebellious words were out before she could prevent them.
He raised a dark brow.
‘If you hadn’t kissed me like that…But I didn’t want you to get hurt.’
‘It’s only a scratch,’ he said dismissively.
But it was a lot worse than that, and she asked anxiously, ‘Did you put some antiseptic on it?’
‘No.’
‘You should have done.’
‘I couldn’t get into the house.’
Watching her hand fly to her mouth, he said wryly, ‘When I found everything locked up, I thought you might be anticipating a siege.’
‘I went into Napa with Mrs Redford,’ she admitted in a small voice.
‘Yes, I saw the pick-up bring you back. Three hours is a long time to be left cooling one’s heels.’
Biting her lip, she stayed silent.
‘But no doubt you thought I deserved it. That it was fitting retribution.’
So far he hadn’t so much as raised his voice, but he wasn’t the kind of man to allow a woman to get the better of him, and she wondered when he would finally unleash his pent-up anger.
The waiting, in itself, was a form of punishment, building up the tension, fraying her nerves until they threatened to snap.
Longing to sit down and have a cool drink, she wiped a trickle of perspiration from her grimy forehead with the back of her hand.
‘You look all hot and bothered,’ he commented, moving towards her. ‘Perhaps a swim might help?’
There was a hint of smooth menace in his voice that rattled her further, and, retreating a step, she shook her head. ‘No, I don’t—’
Still advancing, he urged, ‘I can thoroughly recommend it. But you wouldn’t want to go in with your clothes on, would you?’
In a single swift movement, he caught the hem of her dress and pulled it over her head.
She wasn’t wearing a bra, and in spite of her protests it was the work of a moment to strip off her dainty briefs.
‘That’s better,’ he said approvingly.
‘Leave me alone,’ she cried, backing away. ‘I don’t want to go in. I can’t—’
The words ended in a strangled yelp and a splash, as she tumbled backwards into the deep end.
She came up gasping and choking, helplessly thrashing the water, before going under again.
A moment later, from behind, strong hands caught her under the arms, and with one swift kick Gray carried them both to the surface.
Held safely by him, she filled her lungs with air, and her first wild terror began to subside a little. Still she felt panicky, her breasts rising and falling with her laboured breathing.
‘You’re quite safe,’ he assured her. ‘I won’t let you go.’
Turning onto his back, so that his body supported hers, he settled her head on his chest and smoothed the long strands of wet hair away from her face.
After a minute or so, reassured by his strength and confidence, she began to relax and they floated easily together.
Feeling that change, he said quietly, ‘Forgive me, I had no idea you couldn’t swim.’
‘When I was quite small I fell into one of the local ponds and almost drowned. It frightened me half to death, so I never did learn.’
‘Don’t you think it’s time we remedied that?’
‘It may be too late.’
‘It’s never too late. The first step is to stop being afraid, and learn to enjoy the water. Are you happy at the moment?’
‘Yes,’ she admitted.
The water was pleasantly warm. She could feel the brush of his taut thighs against hers, and the way the slight motion of his arms made little eddies.
Perhaps it was her reaction to being safe, but her limbs felt heavy and languid, and she was filled with an unaccountable happiness.
After a while, he said softly, ‘Stretched out like this, anyone can float. Give it a try.’
A moment later she was floating without his help, just his hand cupping her head lightly, reassuringly. As he’d promised, the water supported her, bore her up, and with a feeling of gladness, of release, she let go of her fear.
Even when he removed his hand, it didn’t return.
‘Kick down,’ he instructed.
She obeyed, and they were face to face, his hands circling her waist.
Looking down at her, he asked softly, ‘Did I ever tell you how beautiful your breasts are?’
Her cheeks grew hot as she remembered her nakedness, but the expression on his face made her want to glory in it, rather than try to hide it.
As though sensing how she felt, he cupped the nape of her neck with one hand, and used the other to lift her face to his.
That gentle touch was command enough, and her lips parted in response.
While he kissed her deeply, into the vacuum left by the ebb of her previous fear a different sensation started to flow, a passionate need that came in liquid waves, sweeping over her, drowning everything in its path.
Responding to that need, he slid both hands down her neck and shoulders, then, one hand spread across the small of her back, he brought the other up under her breasts.
She made a little sound deep in her throat as he caressed the wet, smooth skin and found the sensitive nipples, which firmed instantly beneath his touch.
Then, with a shudder, she closed her eyes and gave herself up to the sheer pleasure his skilful fingers were evoking.
When both his arms slid around her, drawing her against him, she went willingly, pressing even closer until her nipples were brushing the sprinkle of crisp dark hair on his chest.
‘Put your arms around my neck,’ he whispered against her lips, ‘and we’ll share a new experience.’ When, feeling his hard male need of her, she obeyed, he cradled the backs of her thighs and guided them into place around his waist.
Her desire as strong as his own, she locked herself there, her long hair floating around their shoulders like mermaid’s tresses.
His arms holding her, his legs moving just enough to keep them afloat, he made love to her with tenderness and passion, filling her being with such intense delight that she gave a little gasping cry at each long, slow thrust.
His eyes gleaming with a purely male triumph, he encouraged her, ‘Yes, my love…Yes…’ until she cried out one last time and began to shudder helplessly against him.
When she became conscious once more of the water lapping around her shoulders and the warmth of the sun on her head, her inhibitions returning, she started to pull away.
‘Don’t,’ he said urgently. ‘I realise you’re used to bottling up your emotions, hiding what you’re thinking and feeling, but don’t do that with me. Talk to me.
‘You enjoyed what we just shared, didn’t you?’
She nodded.
‘Not good enough, I’m afraid. I want to hear you say it aloud. I want you to tell me what you were thinking and feeling.’
But she had stopped thinking, and she could find no words to express such extremes of feeling.
Looking up at him, she whispered, ‘It was absolutely wonderful.’
‘Is that all?’ he teased.
Lifting her chin, she added wonderingly, ‘I never knew physical pleasure could be so…intense…’
He kissed her gently. ‘Some of it was due to the fact that you were so terrified previously. Extremes of sensation heighten one another.
‘Now, feeling confident enough to make it to the side on your own?’
‘I don’t think so,’ she admitted.
‘Then come here.’ Settling her cheek against his shoulder, he lay on his back once more, and paddled them lazily to the shallow end.
As soon as she found her feet he hauled himself out and, water pouring off him, turned to offer her his h
ands. A moment later she was standing dripping beside him.
His eyes running over her appreciatively, he bent to lick a drop of water from one of her pink nipples, before drawing it into his mouth.
The desire she had thought appeased came back with a rush, but, uneasy in the broad daylight, she gasped, ‘Don’t! Someone may see us.’
‘Mmm…’ he murmured, and continued to suckle with obvious enjoyment.
Her instinct was to hold his dark head to her breast, but, refusing to give way to it, she took a handful of wet hair, and tugged.
He retaliated, and, feeling the light pressure of his teeth, she let go of his hair and froze.
When, in his own good time, he released her and drew back, she turned and bolted into the house.
Gathering up her clothing and his own, he followed at a more leisurely pace.
Still partially entangled in a web of sensual pleasure, Rebecca had showered, shampooed her hair and was blowdrying it before it came home to her exactly how idiotic she had been.
With no intention of resuming their affair, she had done just that.
No, she hadn’t, she corrected herself quickly. Certainly she’d behaved stupidly, but just because she had let him make love to her again, it didn’t mean she was prepared to go on with the affair.
But it did mean that she was going to find it harder to convince him she really meant it when next time she said no.
Well, she would just have to make her position clear straight away, so he knew the score.
But she didn’t relish the prospect.
If only she’d behaved more sensibly in the first place it wouldn’t have been necessary. If she hadn’t locked him in the winery, she wouldn’t have ended up in the pool…
Still, some good had come of it. Apart from all the pleasure they had shared—which she didn’t want to think about—he seemed to have forgotten his anger, and she had undoubtedly taken the first big step towards conquering her fear of water.
She finished drying her hair, and, wrapping herself in a bathsheet, opened the door a crack and peeped into the bedroom.
When there was no sign of Gray, she went through to find some clothes.
Pulling on a cotton shirtwaister, and leaving her hair loose around her shoulders, she went outside. As she had expected, he was lounging on the patio. There was a tray of drinks at his elbow.
He looked coolly elegant in pale trousers and an olivegreen shirt open at the neck. Rising to his feet at her approach, he settled her into a chair, enquiring, ‘Are you getting hungry?’
‘Not really.’
‘Then I’ll leave it a little while before I rustle up something to eat. In the meantime…’ He poured two tall glasses of Pimm’s, and handed her one.
‘Thank you.’ She drank thirstily.
When her glass was empty, taking a deep breath, she began, ‘About what happened in the pool. I didn’t mean to—’
‘Behave so wantonly?’ he mocked her gently.
Watching her cheeks grow warm, he said with satisfaction, ‘You’re beginning to lose some of those built-in inhibitions, and let go—’
‘But that’s just it,’ she broke in desperately. ‘I shouldn’t have done. I didn’t want to—’
‘You’d be happier if all our lovemaking took place in bed at night, behind closed doors?’
‘No, that’s not what I mean. I don’t intend there to be any more lovemaking. I didn’t mean to go on with this…affair…I didn’t want to…’
Immediately the air was thick with tension.
Stammering a little, her golden eyes pleading, she went on, ‘W-we’re in separate rooms now and I’d like it to stay that way.’
‘I see,’ he said slowly. ‘So you still haven’t forgiven me for what I said about your family?’
The noise of a motorbike coming up the drive practically drowned out his words. Almost immediately the engine note died, and they heard the faint peal of the front doorbell.
‘It seems we have a visitor. Excuse me.’ He rose to his feet and disappeared into the house.
CHAPTER NINE
REBECCA sighed. The interruption was more than welcome. Having made her point, she didn’t want to get involved in another diatribe on her family’s lack of principles.
Gray had been gone only a short time when the motorbike engine spluttered into life once more and was vigorously revved up. A moment later it roared away down the drive.
Whoever it was hadn’t stayed long. Perhaps it had been Mrs Redford’s eldest boy bringing a message?
As though to confirm that, Gray reappeared with an opened envelope in his hand. His face giving no clue to what he was thinking, he tossed it on the table and resumed his seat.
Then, as though waiting for some question, he slanted her a glance. When she said nothing, he asked casually, ‘Fancy going out?’
‘Going out?’
‘Having failed to reach us by phone, your admirer has sent a hand-delivered invitation to a barbecue party this evening.’
‘My admirer? I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Andrew Scrivener.’
‘Andrew Scrivener?’
‘If you go on like this we shall have to change your name to Polly.’
She took a deep breath. ‘Andrew Scrivener has invited us to a barbecue party this evening?’
‘Got it.’
When she still looked blank, Gray said, ‘If you remember, the night we had dinner in Boston he told us that he was coming out to California, and that he owned Hillsden Wineries. Hillsden is only about eighteen miles away, which, as he observed, makes us practically neighbours.’
‘Now you mention it, yes, I do remember. But it had gone clean out of my head.’ Apologetically, she added, ‘So much happened later…’
His smile slyly reminiscent, he murmured, ‘Yes.’
Feeling her face grow warm, she objected, ‘But didn’t he say in a week or so?’
‘That’s what he said.’
‘So presumably he’s brought his visit forward for some reason.’
‘Exactly.’
He put so much meaning into the word that she lifted her chin abruptly. ‘You don’t seriously think I’m the reason?’
‘I don’t doubt it. I saw the way he kept eyeing you that night in Boston. Like a cat looking at a saucer of cream.’
‘Oh,’ she said blankly.
‘So you’d better get your best bib and tucker on.’
‘Then you intend to go?’
‘Unless you don’t want to.’
She didn’t but, unwilling to say so out of hand, she asked, ‘Will it make any difference to your business deal?’
‘I very much doubt it. So feel free to say so if you don’t want to go.’
He had said a barbecue party…Wondering if some different company might ease the current situation between them, she hesitated.
Noting that hesitation, he gave her a challenging smile. ‘On the other hand, if you want to make hay while the sun shines?’
Stung by his words, his inference that she wasn’t so different from her family after all, she picked up the gauntlet and, returning his smile with a brilliant one of her own, agreed, ‘I might just do that. What time do we need to start?’
Perhaps, even then, she was hoping he would back down, say he hadn’t meant it, that it had been merely a joke.
But, his face devoid of expression, he said, ‘Half an hour should do it.’
‘Then I’ll go and find my best bib and tucker.’
Her heart like lead, she left him sitting there and went back to her bedroom.
As a gesture of defiance she made up with care, before brushing out her hair and swirling it into a smooth coil on top of her head. Then, donning a silky, slim-fitting sheath in navy-blue, she slid her feet into dull-gold sandals and fastened gold hoops to her neat lobes.
She had just emerged when Gray appeared, and, noticing that he hadn’t changed, she wondered if she was overdressed for a barbecue. Well, if she was, she
would just have to brazen it out.
He looked her over from head to foot, and, vexed by that arrogant appraisal, she twirled to give him a back view.
‘Perfect,’ he approved. ‘Just the right combination of sexiness and classiness to get Scrivener going.’
‘I’m so pleased you think so.’
They walked out to the car in the golden light of a late evening. There was no sign of a breeze and the air seemed to be holding its breath.
‘Do you want the top up or down? In other words, are you afraid of getting ruffled?’ Gray asked, mockery in his voice.
‘Down, please,’ she said crisply.
With music playing softly, and the gentle flow of balmy air like velvet as it caressed her face, she should have enjoyed the drive.
But she didn’t.
His dark face set, his manner withdrawn, as though deep in thought, Gray drove in silence and without a single glance in her direction.
Daylight was giving way to dusk when they drew into the driveway of Hillsden Wineries, and as they neared the sprawling ranch-style house they saw that the place was ablaze with lights.
To the right, a gravel parking area already boasted a string of prestigious cars.
Drawing up alongside them, Gray commented sardonically, ‘This should give you a good idea of the company Scrivener attracts. Not an ordinary wagon in sight.
‘By the way, before we go in, may I give you a word of warning? If you’re not serious about becoming the fourth Mrs Scrivener, don’t let him get you alone.’
‘And if I am?’
‘Do the same as you did with Jason—play hard to get. He’ll respect you for that.’
She hadn’t played hard to get with him, she thought, feeling a kind of despair. With Gray, there had never been any hesitation. Instinct alone had ruled her…
He slipped from behind the wheel and, with his usual courtesy, came round to cup her bare elbow and help her alight.
All the windows in the house had been thrown wide, and as they approached they could hear the sound of music and laughter. The music, she noted, was smooth and middle-of-the-road.
A moment later Andrew Scrivener stepped onto the porch and lifted a hand in greeting.
‘Our host appears to have been looking out for us,’ Gray murmured in Rebecca’s ear. ‘Just shows how keen he is.’
