by Penny Jordan
CHAPTER SEVEN
DARCI was aware of Luc with every responsive part of her—lips, hands, skin—all sensitised to the feel of the hard length of his body as he lay above her. Her fingers revelled in the feel of the muscles rippling across his back as his lips continued to plunder, to claim, his tongue stroking lightly, questioningly, against her lips, taking their parting as his answer before moving silkily inside, where he began to probe and lick and taste her.
She felt the warm silkiness of that tongue claim her—gently, and then more demandingly, as the thrusts of his tongue became rhythmic, dancing, duelling with hers, as her body came alive, aching, heated. Darci groaned low in her throat, knowing she craved the touch of his hands upon her, inside her.
She knew that Luc had heard, understood her need, as one of his hands moved restlessly over her ribcage—close, so close to her aching breasts, and yet still not quite touching. Those fingers moved featherlight against her, like the gentle beat of butterfly wings.
His lips left hers to move with moist open-mouthed kisses down the long column of her throat, evoking a pleasure that went all the way down to her toes.
‘Please…!’ she pleaded urgently, her back arching with her need. That request turned to a long, shuddering sigh as she felt Luc’s hand curve about her breast over her T-shirt. Long fingers circled her with excruciating promise, until she cried out again and the pad of his thumb flicked against that hardened nub, sending rivulets of heat and fire between her thighs as her breasts grew heavy and full.
Luc had felt his control slipping the moment Darci arched against him. Even the thin material of her T-shirt was too much. He wanted to feel flesh against flesh, half achieving it as he pushed her top up to gaze down on the lush fullness of her breasts, her pouting nipples. Those deep rose tips were a temptation he couldn’t resist, and he bent his head and took her into his mouth, stroking his tongue across their hard arousal.
He was instantly rewarded by Darci’s fingers curling into his muscled shoulders, nails digging into his flesh. Luc welcomed that pleasure-pain as he laved, suckled and tasted, drawing her deeper and deeper into his mouth. He couldn’t seem to get enough of her.
She was like fire in his arms, molten lava, and the restless caress of her hands, her lips, threatened to burn them both in flames as Luc’s thighs moved demandingly against hers, rubbing against her mound. He knew by the way she stroked against him that he had found her sensitive nub, was feeling himself become moist at that friction of movement. He knew that Darci was wet, too, that those swollen pink lips were weeping for his possession.
And he wanted to take her. Right now. Wanted her with a madness that was wild, almost beyond his control.
That was beyond his control!
His caresses became more demanding, more intimate, as he pushed her skirt up, his hand moving unerringly to the inferno that burned between Darci’s thighs.
She came to her senses as she felt the brush of cool air against her bared skin—as she realised that it was happening again!
That maybe she had been wrong after all—and Luc was irresistible to all women.
No!
She couldn’t do this. Wouldn’t do this. Would not become just another woman that Luc Gambrelli—the totally irresistible Luc Gambrelli—had seduced.
She wrenched her mouth from his to glare up at him. ‘Don’t, Luc!’ she told him forcefully.
‘Don’t…?’ he repeated in surprise, his eyes dark and stormy, a flush to those high cheekbones.
‘No,’ she confirmed determinedly as she straightened her clothing. ‘Unless it was a lie when you claimed you didn’t intend making love to me on a bed of pine-cones?’
Luc stared down at her for several long, tense moments, before rolling onto his side and then onto his back, his arm up over his eyes as he breathed deeply.
Darci lay on the blanket beside him, staring sightlessly up at the sky, totally disorientated by what had just happened. She had wanted Luc—wanted him with a fierceness that had bordered on mindless madness.
And made a complete nonsense of her avowal that a man like Luc Gambrelli would never succeed in seducing her!
She swallowed hard before moistening passion-swollen lips. ‘I don’t intend being added to your list of conquests,’ she told him disgustedly.
Luc didn’t move, his eyes, his dark, expressive eyes, still hidden beneath his upraised arm. ‘No?’ he breathed harshly.
Darci could hear the heavy rise and fall of his chest, and she moved up on her elbows to look down at him, feeling the friction of her T-shirt against her nipples, which were still hard with recent arousal.
‘No,’ she assured him, with more firmness than conviction—she had wanted him so badly a few minutes ago that she had completely forgotten who and what he was! ‘So you may as well call off the hunt as far as I’m concerned.’
Luc raised his arm to look up at her with narrowed eyes. ‘Is that how you feel?’ His mouth twisted. ‘Hunted?’
She wasn’t sure how she felt! Luc brought out a hunger in her, a yearning, aching need that she had never known before. She had no experience to deal with it.
This was Luc Gambrelli—the man she had sworn would never get past her defences, the man she had only spoken to at all on Thursday evening because of Mellie, because she’d wanted to let him know that not every woman was susceptible to his lethal charm.
So much for that claim!
Her face fell. ‘I can assure you that I’m in absolutely no danger of falling in love with you!’ she told him scathingly.
‘That’s good—because love doesn’t enter into my future plans, either,’ he came back mockingly.
Oh, she knew that. She was only too well aware of what his intentions were after the way he had behaved with Mellie. The way he would behave with her, too, if she let him. And she seemed to be giving him every opportunity to do that….
‘I meant with a man like you,’ Darci came back tartly.
His mouth tightened, his gaze glacial. ‘I’m not sure I like your implication,’ he rasped.
‘Oh, come on, Luc,’ Darci retorted. ‘Any woman falling in love with you would simply be stupid!’
Love had never entered into any of his plans, Luc admitted—in fact, he had spent a lifetime avoiding the emotion…avoiding that damned Gambrelli Curse.
But no woman had ever dismissed him in this derogatory way before. Darci seemed to have taken delight in doing exactly that several times in the last few days.
He turned on his side, knowing by the way Darci stiffened and moved slightly away from him that she wasn’t as immune to his close proximity as she claimed to be.
A hard, humourless smile curved his lips. ‘Very stupid,’ he agreed. ‘But lust is something else entirely,’ he elaborated. ‘I wouldn’t object at all if you were to fall in lust with me.’
Her eyes widened angrily. ‘I’ll just bet that you wouldn’t!’ she cried, before scrambling to her feet, her face flushed with the same anger as she looked down at him. ‘Well, that isn’t going to happen, either!’
‘No?’ Luc challenged softly.
‘Most definitely not!’ she snapped.
Luc smiled confidently as he got to his feet in a leisurely fashion. ‘You’re a doctor, Darci—what do you think just now was about if it wasn’t lust?’
Darci was afraid to even think what it had been about!
And she didn’t want to talk about it, either….
‘I think it’s time we drove back to town,’ she told him firmly, and she shook the pine needles off the blanket before folding it up and placing it under her arm.
Only to look up and find that Luc hadn’t moved, that his dark gaze was still levelled on her consideringly.
‘What?’ she exclaimed defensively.
‘I was just wondering…’
Yes? What had he been wondering?
‘Well?’ she persisted angrily, as he made no effort to continue.
He let out a ragged breath. ‘Nothing impor
tant,’ he dismissed, bending down to pick up the picnic basket. ‘As you said, it’s time for us to leave.’ He made a grand sweep with his arm that indicated she should precede him down the pathway.
Leaving Darci uncomfortably aware of his dark eyes on her as she walked ahead of him.
Never again, she decided to herself. She didn’t care what leverage Luc used—let him come to the hospital in search of her if that was what he chose to do!—she would not agree to go out with him again. Would never again put herself in the position of being vulnerable to the unprecedented desire this man ignited in her.
Luc Gambrelli, of all men!
And the worst of it was, if she hadn’t already known of his complete aversion to any sort of commitment to a relationship—given his media reputation and his ruthless pursuit of Mellie, quickly followed by his disappearance out of her friend’s life completely once he had made his conquest—then Darci knew she might just have fallen in love with him herself!
She might be a little in love with him anyway….
She stumbled slightly at that realisation, and immediately felt strong fingers move steadyingly about the top of her arm as Luc reached forward to stop her from falling.
‘Don’t touch me!’ she turned to snap coldly, and she wrenched her arm out of his grasp. Probably bruising herself in the process, but not caring, only knowing that she couldn’t bear to have Luc touch her when she was feeling so emotionally vulnerable.
Luc drew in a harsh breath as he teetered on the edge of losing his usual self-control.
All of the Gambrelli men had a temper—a red-hot temper that burned so deeply it became icy and steely—but that cold control often gave the impression that they were without emotion at all.
Darci’s show of contempt for him was in serious danger of evoking that extreme reaction.
And Luc would guarantee that she wouldn’t like it if it did!
He released her to draw in several more controlling breaths. ‘You did not seem to find my touch so abhorrent a few minutes ago—in fact, the opposite!’ he reminded her frostily, aware that his English had become stilted—a definite sign that he was in danger of losing his temper!
It was something that he had no choice but to turn in on himself, as he saw the way his deliberate cruelty had made Darci’s cheeks pale.
But, dammit, why did she have to keep fighting him, fighting herself, when it had to be as obvious to her as it was to him that minutes ago she had wanted—almost begged him—to make love to her?
Why did Darci keep fighting him, fighting the desire that ignited between them every time they were together?
One possibility had occurred to him a few minutes ago—a possibility that he had dismissed the moment Darci had asked him what he was thinking about. Because there was no way, beautiful as she was, and at the age of twenty-eight, that Darci could possibly still be a virgin.
But if she was, then she was completely unknown territory to him.
Territory he would run a mile to avoid!
‘You,’ she spat out with feeling, the angry colour returning to her cheeks, ‘are not a gentleman!’
Luc gave a wince. ‘Thankfully, no,’ he acknowledged mockingly. ‘As I discovered long ago, gentlemen have a lot less fun than I do!’
Darci frowned at him disgruntledly; he didn’t have to sound so proud of the fact!
‘You’re impossible!’ she told him disgustedly, before turning and continuing to walk down the pathway. They were almost back to the car, thank goodness.
‘So my long-suffering nanny informed me twenty years ago,’ he told her unconcernedly as he fell into step beside her.
Her eyes widened. ‘You had a nanny?’
‘Of course,’ he confirmed. ‘It’s the way of things in the Gambrelli family.’ He looked unconcerned at her questioning look. ‘Besides,’ he added hardly as he strode forcefully across the car park towards the car, ‘my mother and father were too busy, too engrossed with each other, to see to the day-to-day needs of their two wild, uncontrollable sons.’
Darci gave him a glance from beneath lowered lashes, sensing there was a lot more beneath that statement than Luc would be willing to admit—possibly a deep-buried hurt. If his parents had been too engrossed with each other to deal with ‘the day-to-day needs of their two wild, uncontrollable sons’, had they possibly totally excluded their sons…?
Her own parents had a happy, loving marriage, but it wasn’t a relationship that had ever excluded either Grant or Darci. However, that didn’t sound the case with Luc’s parents.
Perhaps that was a possible explanation for Luc’s own lack of emotional commitment?
Darci wasn’t a psychiatrist, but she had studied mental health during her general training to become a doctor, and there surely had to be some reason for Luc’s total lack of a permanent commitment to any woman. He was thirty-four years old, for goodness’ sake; surely he must have fallen in love at least once during those years?
As she had—or rather hadn’t!—during her own twenty-eight years? came her next taunting thought.
Well, okay, perhaps there didn’t have to be any reason for Luc’s determination not to become emotionally involved other than the same kind of decision she herself had made years ago not to become embroiled in any sort of long-term commitment!
But her decision had never been meant as a lifetime one….
Just accept it, Darci, she told herself; there is no other reason for Luc choosing to remain single all these years other than that he’s just having far too good a time being footloose and fancy-free to consider the alternative!
‘I thought you wanted to leave, Darci?’ Luc said pointedly as he stood beside the open passenger door, waiting for her to get in.
‘Sorry.’ She grimaced, throwing the blanket into the boot before striding round to slide economically inside the car, not even risking another glance at Luc as he stood looking down at her for several long seconds before moving to get in behind the wheel.
The drive back to London seemed even longer to Darci than the one coming out had been. She was totally aware of Luc’s brooding presence beside her as he steered them smoothly and efficiently back to the city.
Enforcing her earlier realisation that today had been yet another disaster as far as keeping her distance from Luc was concerned. She just couldn’t seem to stop herself, to resist, when he took her in his arms!
‘I’m coming up with you,’ Luc announced arrogantly, once he had parked the car outside her apartment building.
Darci gave him a sharp look. ‘Why?’
His mouth twisted. ‘Not for the reason you obviously think!’ he snapped derisively. ‘But I believe it’s time—past time!—that you told me what all this has been about,’ he stated as he got out of the car.
He had come to a decision on the drive back. A decision he had every intention of carrying through before he and Darci parted today. Probably for the last time…
He knew by the way her gaze suddenly avoided his that he hadn’t been mistaken in his conclusions concerning Darci’s unpredictable behaviour the last few days. There really was something behind the way she kept blowing hot and then cold—literally!
‘I’m not leaving until you tell me the truth, Darci,’ he warned her harshly, after opening the passenger door for her to get out.
Which she did reluctantly. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about, Luc—’
‘Darci, the people who know me well,’ he cut in, deceptively mildly, ‘would tell you that my present mood is not a good time for you to continue to be economical with the truth.’
‘To lie, you mean?’ she challenged.
He gave a terse inclination of his head. ‘To lie,’ he confirmed grimly.
‘How dare you?’ She turned on him, those green eyes sparkling angrily. ‘I—’
‘And no amount of feigned anger on your part is going to distract me from getting a truthful answer from you,’ Luc assured her softly.
‘Feigned?’ she repeated f
uriously, her hands clenched at her sides, those magnificently full breasts surging up and then down as she breathed agitatedly. ‘Let me assure you, Luc, that I don’t have to pretend to be angry with you. Most of the time that’s exactly how I feel!’
He smiled tightly. ‘And the rest of the time you are liquid desire in my arms…’
‘You bast—’
‘No, I don’t think so, Darci,’ he advised, and he caught her arm as her hand arced up with the obvious intention of slapping his face. ‘We are attracting attention,’ he warned her. He knew they were the focus of avid glances from the couple in the process of walking past them down the street.
Colour warmed Darci’s cheeks as she gave the couple a frowning glance. ‘You’re the one who’s attracting their attention, Luc,’ she hissed heatedly. ‘Not surprisingly, when you’re the great, the legendary Luc Gambrelli—’
‘That is enough!’ Luc bit back harshly, his fingers tightening painfully about her arm as he clamped her to his side to march her forcefully into her apartment building. ‘Don’t!’ he warned Darci as she would have protested, aware of just how close this woman was to making him lose his temper completely.
Darci didn’t. She knew, from the cold waves of anger emanating from Luc as he maintained that hold on her arm to march her up the stairs to her flat, that she had pushed him beyond the limit of his patience—that he was now going to demand some answers from her. And, as he said, they had better be truthful ones.
He had no intention of going anywhere until she gave them to him….
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE man she faced across her sitting-room a few minutes later wasn’t Luc Gambrelli the seductive charmer, the man Darci had known up until now, or the businesslike film producer Grant claimed him to be. No, this man was something else entirely. A cold, icy stranger who had no intention of giving her any quarter whatsoever.
Sorry, Mellie. She made a mental apology to her friend, knowing that there was no way she was going to be able to get through this present conversation without bringing the other woman into it. And never had it been truer than at this moment that attack was the best form of defence…
