by Kim Lawrence
He was breathing hard and fast but Megan, who was doing the same, didn’t notice. She was conscious only of the heat in her blood and Luc stroking her, driving her crazy in a beautiful, mindless way.
Yanking down the neck of her halter top to her waist, he dropped his molten gaze to the pouting contours of her small pink-tipped breasts. The cool air felt like velvet against her sensitised skin. His tongue as he moved it across each erect nipple felt like fire.
She felt like fire.
She reached for him, touching the hardness through the material of his trousers. Luc’s breath started to come even faster. Megan moaned softly as she felt his hard male body surge against her hand.
After a few seconds he took her hands in his and holding them above her head, pressed her into the wall. ‘I can’t give you slow and sweet,’ he admitted, sliding a finger inside her. Megan’s body arched as she gasped and sobbed his name. The muscles in her thighs were trembling violently.
‘I’ll take whatever you have. So long as I feel you inside me in the next ten seconds I don’t care…I don’t care about anything!’ she declared wildly.
‘Hush,’ he soothed, kissing her mouth. ‘I will…I will,’ he promised throatily. Megan was vaguely conscious of the sound of him adjusting his clothing as she kissed him back and told him she loved everything about him.
She felt him against her soft belly, hard and aroused; she had no time to feel concerned about how aroused before he thrust up into her, filling her with his thickness.
‘My God,’ he rasped, his breath hot against her neck. ‘You’re so tight.’
She was in a state of mindless pleasure as he moved inside her, slowly at first, then faster and harder the way she wanted, the way she told him she wanted. The tremors began to build inside then burst into an incredible orgasmic release just seconds before she felt Luc’s hot release inside her.
They sagged to the floor together in an exhausted tangle of limbs. Utterly spent, her knees still trembling, Megan let her cheek rest against his bare chest. The whorls of dark hair tickled her nose. Luc’s arms were around her, and she closed her eyes and listened to the thud of his heartbeat…Gradually it slowed to a steady thud. His skin was hot and slightly damp; the faint scent of the cologne he had used earlier mixed with the musky male scent of his body.
The intimacy was like nothing she had ever experienced in her life.
Luc placed his hand under her chin and lifted her face. Megan waited for the embarrassment she had expected to feel to surface; it didn’t. The most conventional of sex with Brian had left her feeling embarrassed and always self-conscious.
‘I’ve dreamed about doing that since the first moment I saw you,’ he told her. ‘But then,’ he said, stroking her hair back from her face, I expect you already knew that.’
‘No,’ she said honestly. ‘I didn’t even know I wanted to do it until just now.’
Luc laughed at this disingenuous confession and got to his feet.
Shyly she took the hand he offered and let him heave her to her feet. She tilted her head back to look into his dark features. ‘Is it possible to fall in love with someone you don’t know?’
Immediately Luc’s dark features clenched. He looked as though she had just slapped his face.
Megan gave a shaky laugh. If you could die from sheer embarrassment she would be stretched out right now. ‘That was rhetorical, no answer expected or required…in case you were wondering…’
‘Turn around,’ he said abruptly.
Megan did as he asked and felt his fingers brush against the bare skin of her back as he fastened her halter top. She shivered and he swore softly and fumbled the knot.
‘What’s wrong? I didn’t mean me…I…oh, God…!’
He kissed the nape of her neck, then, hands on her shoulders, spun her around. His eyes burned as though lit from within.
‘What’s wrong is you make me…’ He made a visible effort to control himself, then with a sigh of frustration dragged a hand through his hair. ‘I think it would be a good idea if we got back to the house.’
‘Of course.’
As they neared the house she could hear the sound of laughter and voices; someone was playing the piano, and not very well. There was woodsmoke in the air so she assumed that the fire in the enormous grate had been lit. The drawing room with its panelled walls and views out over the lake was her favourite room but the thought of going into it now made her cringe inside. There was simply no way she could act as if nothing had happened between her and Luc.
Megan shook her head and started to back away. ‘I can’t go in there.’
Luc overruled her. ‘Of course you can,’ he said, grabbing her hand. As he was pulling her towards him the automatic sensors on the exterior light kicked in.
She began to smooth down her clothes nervously. ‘I look a mess,’ she fretted. ‘This skirt…’
‘You look gorgeous.’ Megan knew she had never looked gorgeous in her life. She opened her mouth to tell him that she didn’t need to hear pretty lies when her eyes collided with his.
‘And don’t worry about the skirt—I’ll be taking it off for you as soon as we can decently make our excuses,’ he promised throatily.
A shiver ran through her from the top of her head to her curling toes. Megan doubted decency had ever been used to describe a more indecent plan. ‘You think you’re going to spend the night with me?’ At least her embarrassing introduction of love had not put him off totally.
‘Don’t you?’
She felt his hand on her cheek and her head lifted. Their eyes met, and Megan was overwhelmed, not just by the stab of sexual desire that nailed her to the spot, but by the totally unexpected tenderness in his eyes.
She felt tears prickle at the back of her eyes and blinked rapidly; her throat literally ached with emotion. This is crazy—I don’t even know the man! Actually the only thing she knew for sure about him was he was a good liar…and an even better lover.
‘I wasn’t sure you’d want to…?’
‘I’ve wanted you since the first moment I saw you.’ He wound a damp honey coloured curl around one long brown finger. ‘I wanted to pull you down onto the sofa and make love to you right then.’
Megan began to shake. She was still blinking in a bemused fashion when a loud, familiar voice suddenly rang out.
‘There they are…’
Luc lifted his hand and waved to the figure standing at the window. ‘No escape now,’ he said without looking at Megan.
Her mother had obviously been waiting for them. ‘Where did you two get to?’ she demanded as they stepped into the hallway. She focused on her daughter and gave a wince. ‘Your hair, Megan…’ she rebuked with a despairing shake of her head.
‘I like it that way.’
The comment brought both women’s attention to Luc’s face.
‘You do?’ Laura said in a startled voice.
Megan assumed that Luc did something to confirm his strange taste to her mother, but she didn’t trust herself to check it out for herself. How could anyone look at her and not know? She felt as though her shame were written all over her face except that, bizarrely, she didn’t feel any shame at all.
‘What happened to you?’
Good question. Megan took a deep breath.
‘And where are your shoes?’
‘Slight mishap—we got caught in the rain,’ she said, lifting a self-conscious hand to her tousled head. ‘I’ll go and fix this.’ If only other things could be fixed with a brush and hairdryer. What had happened to caution, and why…how did she feel so elated?
‘Never mind about that now, it’s fine, come along in,’ Laura urged, shepherding them across the hall. ‘You’ll never guess who is here…’
‘Who?’ Megan didn’t much feel like playing guessing games or being polite to guests, but she managed to feign interest.’
Her heart just about stopped when Luc suggested silkily, ‘The real Lucas…?’ His hand shot out to steady Megan as she
stumbled. ‘Oops! Watch your step there, Megan.’
‘He has such a delightfully dry sense of humour,’ Laura observed.
‘He is so, so dead,’ Megan added with a fixed smile. Her reproachful eyes lifted to his face. The innocent expression she encountered was about as believable as a sincere politician. ‘You won’t be laughing then,’ she predicted grimly as she brushed the restraining fingers from her arm.
‘What did you say, darling?’
Megan lifted her voice and said in a flat monotone, ‘I said he’s a laugh a minute.’ She ignored the rumble of soft laughter at her elbow and deliberately didn’t look at him.
A second later as Laura pushed open the drawing-room door she learnt who the mystery guest was. Horror immediately froze her to the spot. Megan was no coward, but suddenly she wanted to take to her heels and run!
Her scam was about to be exposed in the most horrifying way. Would she be facing public humiliation and litigation or was the author going to see the funny side of this? Did he possess a sense of humour? It wasn’t as if they had harmed his reputation—maybe he might even be flattered, as someone who looked fairly ordinary might be if they found themselves being played by Brad Pitt in the film of their life story.
It was, admittedly quite a maybe.
Megan wasn’t sure if she was going to throw up or faint. She angled a quick glance at the tall man beside her. He was looking at her uncle Mal, effortlessly projecting his usual unbelievable level of cool and charisma. If she had been the author with a taste for privacy she might have considered paying Luc to be her public face, but the real Lucas Patrick might not see it quite the same way.
‘Uncle Mal, this is quite a surprise.’ Megan wondered why the presence of her uncle should explain her mother’s suddenly bright eyes, and air of barely suppressed excitement.
The figure who had risen from his seat at the piano as they’d entered came towards her. Handsome despite his thickening middle and thinning hairline, Malcolm…looked very like his younger sister.
‘Oh, yes, your uncle turned up,’ her mother said, dismissing her brother with a slightly irritated shrug. ‘But it was Jean Paul that I was talking about.’ She drew forward with a flourish the old family friend Megan had known since she was a child.
The distinguished, silver-haired Frenchman smiled at Megan. ‘You look very lovely tonight, Megan,’ he said with smooth Gallic charm.
Her uncle was less smooth but also complimentary. ‘Megan, my dear girl, you do look well,’ he told his stricken-faced niece before his glance moved past her to the tall figure who stood with one hand lightly touching her shoulder. His smile was replaced by a look of puzzlement.
‘I didn’t believe it when Laura said my most famous client had turned up on her doorstep,’ Malcolm remarked, shaking his head.
Megan, feeling physically sick, interposed herself between the two men in an instinctively protective gesture. She couldn’t let Luc take the blame, not when this had been her idea. Two bright patches of colour appeared on her cheeks.
‘I can explain…’ She paused, hoping for some inspired explanation, one that would let her emerge not looking like a duplicitous idiot who had to bribe someone to pretend to be her boyfriend.
There was no inspiration.
‘It was my idea…’
‘To show me the art workshops,’ Luc completed smoothly for her. Hands thrust casually in his pockets, he stepped forward.
At a time like this I can admire his bottom…I’ve clearly become a candidate for intensive therapy, she decided despairingly.
‘The flu turned out to be just a head cold, Mal. I popped a bit of vitamin C and here I am. I’ve been made to feel every bit as welcome as you said I would be. All that was missing was you.’
To Luc’s amusement Malcolm shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, looking more like a guilty schoolboy than head of one of the most successful publishing houses in the country.
‘Sorry, I was…urgently, called away…business…only got back this morning. Naturally when I heard you were here…’ He leaned towards the younger man and murmured, ‘What the hell are you up to, Luc?’
‘A very good question, Mal.’ His attention drifted momentarily towards Megan. He didn’t elaborate.
Megan looked from one man to the other, she pressed her fingers to her temples to relieve the growing pressure. This didn’t make sense.
‘You know one another…?’ she said blankly.
‘Of course they know one another,’ said her mother, who was standing a little apart from them. She scanned her daughter’s pale face with a frown. ‘Are you feeling all right? Heavens you’ve not caught this wretched cold bug, have you?’
Megan wasn’t feeling all right. She doubted she had ever felt less all right in her life! She lifted her gaze to Luc. ‘So you are Lucas Patrick, the writer…?’
He nodded.
‘Who else would he be?’ Laura asked.
The man I just made love to?
‘A man who needs warming up,’ responded Hilary huskily. Her hungry eyes announced to everyone that it was a task she was only too willing to take on! ‘You look frozen, Luc!’ she purred.
Megan watched in seething silence as the voluptuous woman trailed her scarlet-painted fingers slowly down Luc’s chest. She felt sick.
‘You feel cold too, darling.’
Luc looked directly at Megan over the redhead’s glossy head. The expression in his deep-set eyes said, Save me! Megan smiled back heartlessly. Save him! Hilary could eat him alive as far as she was concerned!
In the distance Megan was vaguely conscious of her mother asking if she had had a knock on the head. Someone else suggested that what she needed was a good stiff drink to warm her up.
Good idea, Megan thought, reaching for the decanter of brandy on the bureau. In one smooth motion she filled her glass to the brim and lifted it to her lips.
When the fiery liquid was pooling in her empty stomach, she became aware that nobody was talking. They were all looking at her.
‘You know, I feel better already,’ she said, angling a hard, accusing glance towards the silent figure who stood just to her right.
It had all been a mistake; she felt the anger like a tight fist in her chest. He has done this to me, she thought hating him as much as she had wanted him earlier.
‘No, actually I do feel a bit hot and headachey now I think about it.’
A maternal hand was immediately clamped to her forehead. ‘I don’t think you have a temperature, but you can’t be too careful.’ Laura watched with a fixed smile as her daughter refilled her glass. ‘Perhaps you should go and lie down…?’
‘You know, I think I might.’ Megan drained the glass and set it down with elaborate care on the table. ‘Lovely to see you, Jean Paul. Catch up later, Uncle Mal,’ she called out cheerily. She kissed her mother’s cheek. ‘I’m sure I’ll feel better after a quick nap.’
She didn’t say anything to Luc. She knew if she did that all the fury seething inside her would explode.
CHAPTER EIGHT
MEGAN didn’t close the curtains. The moon had appeared and the leaded window was open. The soft breeze blowing through ruffled the heavy brocade curtains and cooled the warm, sticky night air.
She had slept in this room most of her life and she knew every creak and groan the ancient building could make. So when she heard a soft creak, Megan knew immediately that someone had stepped on the uneven floorboard just outside her door. That creaky floorboard had saved her from being caught reading under the covers on more than one occasion.
Mum, come to check up on me.
Sometimes, Megan decided, hiding your head under the bedclothes really was the only sensible thing to do. Before she did exactly that she twitched one of the drapes on her half-tester bed closed.
Lying there, eyes tightly closed she heard the door open. Though she strained her ears Megan couldn’t hear footsteps on the polished oak floor. Pretending to be asleep when you knew someone was i
n the room watching you had seemed a lot easier when she was ten, she reflected as she did her best to keep her breathing even and relaxed.
The silent presence she sensed seemed to stand beside the bed for a very long time. It seemed as if hours had passed before she heard the door latch softly click closed. She exhaled a gusty sigh of relief.
‘Thank goodness for that!’ she breathed, rolling onto her back. With a soft grunt she pulled herself to her knees and drew back the curtain. It was as she pushed wayward strands of hair from her sticky, too-warm face with her forearm that Megan realised she wasn’t alone.
Her midnight visitor was still there.
For a split second she just froze at the sight of the tall intruder standing with his broad shoulders set against the panelled oak door. The paralysis only lasted a fraction of a second before a massive rush of adrenaline was released into her bloodstream. Megan was out of the bed and standing there her body ramrod stiff.
Luc didn’t think he had ever seen anyone radiate loathing quite so effectively as Megan did at that moment. So maybe convincing her he had always intended to come clean might not be easy…?
Easy? She’s going to call you a lying bastard!
My God, had he messed up! It wasn’t that he had intended for things to go that far before he told her the truth; not doing so had been one of the stupidest things he had ever done and he was totally prepared to admit it. The fact was, for the first time in his life he had let sexual hunger overrule common sense.
Megan watched as he lifted a hand to his forehead in a languid mocking salute. The colour seeped out of her skin, only emphasizing the sapphire shimmer of her eyes.
This was all a joke to him. God, but she had been such a fool! She had knocked back God knew how many decent men who liked her for a man who hadn’t stopped lying to her from the moment they had met!
First Brian, now Luc—am I doomed to go through life being attracted to lowlife scumbags—? It was a deeply depressing thought, though, if she was honest, nothing she had felt for Brian in or out of bed resembled the passion that this man was capable of wakening in her. She had never hated Brian, or for that matter loved him. Whereas she hated Luc and…
