‘I’m glad you appreciate the sacrifice.’ It occurred to her that he sounded bizarrely impersonal about the whole thing. ‘Have you and… Jessica been living together for long?’
‘Ever heard of tactful reticence?’
Anna crossed her shapely ankles and felt no stirrings of repentance. ‘If I thought you had feelings that might be hurt I’d have been more discreet, but…’ Her smile silently conveyed her confident dismissal of this theory.
‘I could just wait for the local grapevine to supply all the nitty-gritty details,’ she suggested, pursing her lips thoughtfully. ‘It’ll probably take about two weeks for details to percolate down. Admittedly accuracy is sometimes sacrificed to enthusiasm—’
‘Jessica and I have never lived together. Satisfied?’
‘Never?’
‘We both preferred to have our own space.’ His patience appeared to be wearing thin.
This Jessica might of course be a saint…but Anna was deeply suspicious of a woman who wasn’t after commitment and yet was happily taking on an instant family.
She whistled softly and threw Adam a gently taunting smile. ‘Well, you won’t have much space now, will you? If you’d wanted to get married I’d have thought you’d have done something about it by now. How long have you been seeing one another? A year…two?’
‘Three as a matter of fact. I’ve been a friend of the family for years.’
Anna gave a derisive squawk. ‘How passionate; you really swept her off her feet.’
‘Are you implying I’ve pressurised Jessica?’ he began.
Good Lord, he really did have an unexpected touch of naivety! Hadn’t it occurred to him that this woman had found this situation an ideal opportunity to tighten her obviously tenuous hold on her man?
It could be I’m being less than generous, she conceded guiltily, swirling the dregs of her drink around in her cup. I’m certainly not jealous, she told herself firmly. This man is a monster and any woman fool enough to marry him deserves sympathy and probably therapy too. She must be unhinged.
‘I’m sure she was marvellous. She might even have suggested the solution herself.’ Adam viewed Anna’s innocent smile with an expression of deep suspicion. ‘Personally I wouldn’t be flattered if a man asked me to marry him simply to be a mother to his children.’
‘I seriously doubt if you’ll ever find yourself in that situation.’
‘Does she know you still feel inclined to grope stray females?’ Anna asked, her temper climbing to smouldering point as she swallowed his contemptuous observation.
‘You remind me of a stray cat. There’s something very…feline about you,’ he said slowly, his eyes running over her slender form, apparently losing his thread of thought. As if suddenly aware of his abstraction, he visibly stiffened, his expression hardening into a heavy frown. ‘I admit I forgot myself for a brief moment, but then I’ve not had long to learn how engaged people act.’
‘Isn’t three years long enough?’ Anna failed miserably to call a halt to this stream of morbid curiosity concerning his personal life. Nothing she’d heard had given her any pleasure. It was a perversely masochistic pursuit.
‘I said, Anna, that Jessica and I had had a relationship for three years. I didn’t say that relationship gave either of us exclusive rights.’
‘You sleep around!’ she accused, for some reason feeling irrationally angry.
‘I’m not promiscuous, if that’s what this little outburst of moral outrage is meant to imply.’
‘You didn’t mind if she slept with other men?’ Anna asked incredulously. This was an attitude she found extremely baffling. She didn’t think she was unusually possessive, but exclusivity was essential in her mind to any serious relationship.
‘Jessica is far too tactful ever to raise the subject, and I have never enquired.’
Anna gave a choked sound of disgust. ‘Very civilised!’
‘I’d have thought a free spirit like you would have appreciated such an arrangement.’
‘Then you thought wrong!’ she cried. ‘If I found a man I loved had been unfaithful I wouldn’t tactfully avoid the subject… I’d… I’d…’
Adam watched with an expression of reluctant fascination as she rose to her feet. Her fists were clenched at her sides and her vivid face was a mask of passion. Her dramatically heaving bosom was hard to ignore.
‘Having seen a sample of your self-defence techniques, I can well imagine what you’d do.’ He slanted her a wry look. ‘I’d never have tagged you as the possessive type.’
‘If I was prepared to give myself unconditionally to someone I’d expect the same in return. I hate cheats…’
‘Unconditionally…?’
The husky speculation in his voice and the shrewd gleam of interest in his eyes made her sink back onto her packing case. She wished fervently that she had picked anyone but this man to make such a revealing comment to.
‘Let’s just say you and I have a very different attitude to love and marriage.’ She tried to defuse the tension between them with a casual, dismissive tone. She didn’t want to touch on subjects important to her with this man who would no doubt find her impractical dream of a marriage of minds and souls amusing. His blatantly practical reason for marrying was repellent to her.
His eyes fastened onto her restless fingers plucking at the hem of his shirt, and she forced herself to lay her hands primly in her lap.
‘You think the sort of passion you appear to fantasise about would stand the test of time?’ He shook his head and smiled cynically. ‘Lust, whilst it can be satisfying in the short term, is not much of a basis for marriage. Respect and mutual interests are a much more solid foundation.’
‘I pity Jessica if all she wants from you is respect.’
‘It makes more sense than basing a lifetime commitment on a purely chemical reaction,’ he responded, stung by her observation. ‘I mean, look at you and me…we both wanted to rip off each other’s clothes the instant we met, but I’d sooner spend my days with a tornado. You’re about as peaceful as a whirling dervish.’
‘At least I’m not boring!’ she replied pointedly.
His casual comment on chemical reactions had made her colour, but she was honest enough to bite back any more scornful comments because, whilst his assessment was crude, it was also basically true.
I was going to avoid Adam like the plague, but what did I do when the opportunity presented itself? she asked herself bitterly. Did I run in the opposite direction?
No. Like some idiot with lemming tendencies she’d managed to end up scantily clad and in an intimate situation with Adam Deacon. The full danger of her present situation was suddenly very apparent. She swallowed the constriction in her throat.
‘Meaning?’ he said, with a dangerous inflection in his voice and an equally daunting smile on his lips.
‘Meaning, you give a whole new meaning to the term “stuffed shirt”,’ she explained helpfully. ‘How old are you? Thirty-five, six? You talk as if you’ve mapped your life out with all the passion of a computer program.’ Her lack of sympathy shone in her eyes as she warmed to her theme.
‘I’m sure your motives are well intentioned. But if your brother’s children have been brought up in a normal, loving environment they’re not for one minute going to be fooled by neat arrangements.’ Her eyes were drawn to the childish paintings pinned against the peeling plaster. ‘Did they do those?’
Adam followed the line of her gaze. ‘Sam and Nathan did them,’ he confirmed, his voice softening as he mentioned the children. ‘They’re the youngest—three.’
‘Twins?’
Adam nodded. ‘The colours are an improvement. Until recently,’ he said bleakly, ‘they used black. They still have the most terrible nightmares. As things stand my mother is taking the brunt of it.’ His brooding contemplation shifted to Anna’s face. ‘They need stability.’
‘To imagine you can create security by taking a wife and moving to the country is pathetic. It tak
es more than an Aga and a pine dresser to give stability,’ she said earnestly. Compassion for him—them—made her chest tight with suppressed emotion. ‘Marriage shouldn’t be a tiresome necessity, Adam.’ It was warmth, sharing, and most importantly love. It was what her parents had in abundance and it was what she wanted one day.
‘Wake up to the real world, Anna. You’re used to getting what you want, but it doesn’t work that way. In the real world people compromise unless they’re terminally selfish.’
‘Then maybe I’m selfish because I’m not prepared to compromise. That doesn’t mean I don’t understand reality.’ She could have told him all about dashed hopes and unfulfilled dreams. ‘It’s you who has a problem with that. What you’re going to do isn’t real!’ she said earnestly. ‘It’s all a fake, a lie. You can’t make a home the same way they construct a film set. Mr Consultant, in your nice designer suit, don’t you ever follow your instincts?’ she cried scornfully. What a waste, what an awful waste, she thought miserably. I hate waste.
‘It’s as well for you I don’t follow my instincts,’ he thundered. His eyes were smouldering and his chest rose erratically in tune with his laboured inhalations. His long, clever, sensitive fingers curled into white-knuckled fists.
‘What if I’m willing to take the chance?’ Where had that come from? she wondered, clamping her jaw shut over any further inflammatory gems that might escape her trembling lips. The lines of stress in his chiselled features, not to mention the sinewed tautness in his neck, all betrayed the fact that Adam was close to his limit of endurance.
‘Cancel that,’ she babbled, making a negative gesture with her hands. ‘I didn’t say it.’
‘I can’t oblige with selective amnesia. I heard you quite distinctly.’ His voice had a strained, rasping quality. Reckless was the only word she could think of to describe the glow in his half-closed eyes as he contemplated her unblinkingly.
She gave a shaky laugh, trying unsuccessfully to read his intentions. Hadn’t she moments before been accusing him of being hidebound by convention, and boring? At that precise moment he looked anything but; he looked unpredictable and dangerous.
The predatory curl of his sensual lips made her already tight stomach muscles clench painfully. She licked the outline of her dry lips and tried to hide her growing sense of nervous anticipation. She tried hopelessly to catch a glimpse of the urbanity she’d poured scorn on.
‘I’m renowned for saying stupid things.’
‘But you mean them,’ he accused, using the same tactics she frequently employed to disarm him.
Trapped by his astute assessment, she stared back at him, feeling as helpless as a moth drawn to a flame. As soon as this hackneyed analogy entered her head she felt angry. It implied she was helpless when all she had to do was get up and walk away. Alas, communications between her limbs and her brain seemed blocked; she stayed immobile.
‘Come here, Anna.’ The low, husky command made the hairs on the nape of her neck stand on end.
Only a fool would respond to this imperative. Why am I doing this? she wondered as she walked steadily towards him.
Adam didn’t look surprised by her meek response. His eyes flared with primitive satisfaction as they ran over the length of her slender figure. She was poised before him like a wild creature, not quite sure whether to flee or not.
He reached out his hand and touched her shoulder, allowing his fingers to follow the curve of her arm. It was a light, impersonal touch that made her tremble. He was trembling too. He registered this amazing fact subconsciously as he laid his hands on her shoulders and exerted enough pressure to bring her down onto her knees before him. Sheer, primitive lust obliterated the last vestiges of rational thought from his mind.
Slowly brushing the short, silky strands of hair from her cheek, he took her small face between his hands. For what seemed like a lifetime he looked into the vivid, finely boned face tilted up to him.
Anna concentrated on breathing; it was suddenly a laborious and difficult process. Her heart thundered against her breast so loudly, she knew he must hear it.
‘What if my instinct tells me to do this…? And this…?’ He punctuated his words with a series of shocking, open-mouthed kisses, slow, searching and devastating. His tongue burrowed into the warm sweetness of her mouth and a ragged groan vibrated in the depths of his chest.
‘You’re the most bewitching piece of perfection I’ve ever come across,’ he rasped as her throat arched to invite the attention of his mouth. His hands supported her head, which fell back bonelessly.
The primitive sound as her hands came up flat to rest against his hard belly made her shudder. His skin’s warmth, penetrating the thin fabric beneath her fingertips, brought her back to a vague and dizzying sense of reality. Hazily she opened her heavy eyes and found them instantly clashing with his.
‘I can’t do this,’ she gasped rawly. Every nerveending in her body was screaming in opposition. She was drowning in the taste of him on her lips, the masculine scent of him in her nostrils, the warm touch of his firm, smooth skin under her fingers.
‘Why not?’ he enquired, with an edge of husky indulgence that made her want to scream.
The friction as his hands moved lower over her buttocks, lifting her firmly up until she rested between the apex of his legs, made her panic. The urgency in him, the raw want, was outside her experience. He brought her knees up until she shared the makeshift seat with him, her knees either side of his narrow hips. Her position made her intimately aware of the strength of his arousal, and a rosy blush suffused her entire body.
Why not? Why not? He could actually ask that! She gasped as his hands slid under the shirt, moving in a slow, sweeping motion over the curve of her buttocks and up the dip of her waist to slide forward and cup a breast in each hand. His thumbs sought and discovered the hardened peaks and delicately set about overriding her last shreds of sanity.
‘Faithless rat!’
He didn’t appear to have heard her hoarse cry. Warming to her theme, and calling on her final reserve of willpower, she repeated herself in a more forceful voice. She scrambled off his lap. ‘You shouldn’t have to ask why not!’
‘Better a rat than a vamp who cries “hands off” at the crucial moment.’ Frustration and fury replaced the blankness in his eyes, but he didn’t attempt to prevent her retreat.
‘Vamp!’ she echoed shrilly, her body shaking in reaction to the sudden plunge she’d taken from sensual pleasure to distasteful reality. His harsh jibe was enough to remind her that she’d done the right thing, but it didn’t stop her from aching.
‘Dear God, you’re so tied up with inhibitions I’m not surprised you can’t recognise plain, undiluted honesty. Contrary to your assessment I’m not into casual sex, neither do I see any need to hide the fact I find someone attractive. I did you— I hope you noticed the past tense there…did! Before I found out you were a narrow-minded, two-faced hypocrite. For your information I’m not some sex-starved bimbo.’
‘Let your mind drift back about twenty seconds, sweetheart,’ Adam drawled. His anger had been replaced by a speculative, cold expression which she found much more worrying.
‘I despise myself for that.’ She compressed her trembling lips firmly.
‘I do believe you do!’ he breathed incredulously.
‘I need my clothes.’
‘That’s not what you need.’ He watched the completely unexpected sheen of tears well in her wide eyes, and felt ashamed for labouring the point.
She wanted him as much as he did her. She hadn’t tried to hide the fact whereas he had done just that. He’d convinced himself that his uncharacteristic behaviour of the previous week had been an aberration. It had taken seconds of being in Anna Lacey’s company to explode that myth. She fascinated him in a way that made him forget his responsibilities and act with the sense of some adolescent in the grip of a hormonal overload.
He knew his prospective marriage was a compromise for himself and Jessica, but u
p until now he hadn’t had any serious doubts that he could fulfil his side of the bargain. So much for the man of iron, he thought scornfully, astounded at how easily and eagerly he had forgotten his responsibilities. He was disgusted and ashamed. And Anna, reading both emotions in his eyes, felt physically sick.
‘I don’t need any of this, Adam.’
‘Then why invite it?’ he asked harshly. Recriminations seemed redundant, but he couldn’t help the bitterness that slipped out.
Anna recognised that he wanted to blame her for his own behaviour and she couldn’t deny she had been far from innocent. ‘I can’t seem to help it with you,’ she admitted with a catch in her voice. Her frustration and anger at this impossible situation raced to her rescue. ‘Don’t think I’m happy about losing my sense of discrimination and good taste!’
Her generous lips clamped shut over her gritted teeth. He’s about to marry another woman, Anna, she told herself furiously, and you keep offering yourself to him. Her bizarre and contradictory behaviour was totally inexplicable.
‘I think it would be best all round if we kept out of each other’s way. I’d hate to upset your neat plans.’
‘There’s no chance of that,’ Adam observed, with what she considered a heartless grin; it was as wintry as the weather outdoors.
‘I’m delighted to hear it,’ she told him with deep insincerity. The direction of his gaze told her a little belatedly that the shirt had come unbuttoned as far as the indentation above her navel. She snatched the fabric together.
Adam’s hand came up to run down the square angle of his jaw. He looked furious. ‘Don’t act as if you’re not as much to blame for this as I am,’ he said heavily. ‘What is it with you? Are you so used to getting any man you want you can’t let one escape your clutches? Is this your notion of revenge for me not being smitten the other night?’
‘How dare you?’ she breathed furiously. ‘Don’t blame me if you can’t be faithful! I won’t be the scapegoat just because your perfect relationship is full of holes.’
Wild and Willing! Page 4
