by Anne Mather
‘You sound very sure of her altogether,’ murmured his father drily. ‘Am I to understand that the hangdog expression you’ve worn for the last few weeks isn’t just because your mother is still staying at Mango Key?’
Matt gazed ruefully at him. ‘Yeah, yeah,’ he admitted frustratedly. ‘Call me a fool, if you like, but I’ve never met a girl like Rachel before.’
Jacob returned his stare. ‘It sounds serious.’ He paused. ‘So why haven’t you done anything about it before now?’
Matt bent his head. ‘I had my reasons.’
‘Not wholly commendable ones, by the sound of it,’ observed his father, and when his son didn’t answer, he continued, ‘What are you going to do?’
Matt blew out a breath. ‘I’m going to go and get the truth out of Sara,’ he said, nodding. He made an apologetic gesture. ‘Sorry about leaving you to it.’ He grimaced. ‘I’ve just lost my appetite.’
‘You didn’t have much of an appetite to begin with.’ Jacob was resigned. ‘Yes, go. This is far more important than wasting good steak.’
Matt remembered he’d driven the distance between Jaracoba and Mango Key in record time. And, looking back, he was fairly sure his mother had had some suspicion of why he was home so early even before he’d asked her the burning question.
She’d prevaricated at first, but one look at his grim face had warned her not to lie to him. Using tears as an ally, she’d tried to tell him that losing him as a baby had had a devastating effect on her life. Then, discovering her husband was sterile, she’d only agreed to adoption as a last resort.
‘But you never told Rachel you and her father weren’t her biological parents?’
‘I didn’t think it was important,’ she’d exclaimed appealingly. ‘It wasn’t something people talked about in those days. And I don’t know why you’re getting so chewed up about it now. Rachel means nothing to you.’
‘Doesn’t she?’
Matt recalled how he’d stared at her until she’d dropped her eyes, and he’d known in that moment that Sara knew exactly what she’d done.
The row that had followed had been brutal. But, dammit, he’d been half afraid—was still half afraid, if he was honest—that his mother had screwed up any chance of his making a life with Rachel. And if that happened he’d never forgive her.
Never.
Chapter Fifteen
‘702.’
Matt said the number to himself as he scanned the keypad situated beside the glass doors. Evidently, with so many occupants, an individual bell system wasn’t feasible, and visitors were expected to key in the number of the apartment they wanted.
He was hesitating over whether to select Rachel’s number or take a chance on someone else releasing the lock, when a young woman emerged from the building and kindly held the door open for him.
‘Thanks,’ he said, amazed that the idea of letting a thief into the block didn’t occur to her. But maybe she thought he looked harmless enough.
‘No problem,’ she responded, with an inviting little smile, and Matt realised that she had another agenda entirely. ‘Are you looking for someone? Perhaps I can help you.’
Matt’s mouth compressed. ‘My girlfriend,’ he said pleasantly. ‘But thanks for the offer.’
The girl’s smile disappeared, and with a shrug she walked away. Matt glanced after her and then stifled a smile as he turned towards the lifts. One down and one to go, he thought wryly. If only Rachel would be so accommodating.
He stepped out of the lift onto a rubber-tiled floor. It wasn’t luxurious, but it was clean and well-lit, with long windows at each end of the corridor allowing watery sunlight to stream into the hall.
Number 702 was two doors along. And, despite everything that had happened and his own determination to come here, Matt had to admit to a feeling of apprehension.
What if he’d been wrong? He had no real idea what Rachel might be thinking at this moment. Was it possible he’d misunderstood her reasons for leaving?
Dear God, he’d been devastated after that confrontation with his mother. His first impulse had been to get her out of his house, and the very next morning he moved her into the hotel. She’d protested, naturally, but he’d had enough. Then he’d gone to see his father.
As usual, Jacob Brody had been a pillar of strength, and Matt had spent the next twenty-four hours organising his schedule so he could leave the island for a few days. But when he’d gone to the hotel to tell his mother what he was going to do he’d discovered Sara had left the day before.
To say Matt had been angry at the news would have been an understatement. Particularly as it had been too late then for him to get to Montego Bay in time for that evening’s flight. Instead, he’d contacted a friend who ran a charter service out of Kingston. He’d flown to London in the luxury of a private jet, mentally chastising himself for not realising his mother would want to get to Rachel first.
There was no bell, so he knocked at the door of number 702. It reminded him of that evening when he’d brought his grandmother’s cream to treat Rachel’s sunburn. But it also reminded him of what had happened when he’d touched her, and in spite of his nerves his body tightened in response.
There was an eyehole in this door, too, he noticed, and he wondered if Rachel was staring through it right now, trying to decide whether she would speak to him. He had no idea if his mother had been to see her, or what she might have said to her. Sara could easily had lied and claimed he hadn’t known that Rachel was adopted either. Hell, would a mother really do something like that to her daughter, adopted or otherwise? He prayed not.
When he heard a key turning in the lock and a chain being released, he felt a wave of perspiration break out on the back of his neck. He’d never been so nervous, he realised. God, she’d really messed with his mind.
The door opened a few inches, and he glimpsed the woman who’d come to mean so much to him hovering just beyond the threshold. She wasn’t dressed. Well, not dressed as he was used to seeing her, but he wasn’t complaining. The cropped tee shirt and what looked like men’s boxers displayed a delicate wedge of porcelain skin at her midriff and almost the whole length of those gorgeous legs.
‘Matt,’ she said, and he was heartened that she didn’t slam the door in his face. ‘Wh—What are you doing here?’
‘Would you believe, sightseeing?’ he asked, trying for humour. But he was honestly weary, and it didn’t quite come off. ‘I guess not.’ He grimaced and rested one hand against the door frame. ‘How about I’ve come to see you? Does that cover it?’
Rachel’s pulse was racing. When she’d heard the knock at the door she’d been sure it wouldn’t be anyone she knew. She didn’t expect to see her mother again any time soon, and her father wouldn’t call on her at eight o’clock on a Saturday morning.
Living in such a large block, she was used to people getting the wrong apartment, and she’d been quite prepared to ignore it.
Then, when she’d peered through the eyehole, she’d seen Matt and her legs had turned to jelly. Dear heaven, after what her mother had said she’d doubted she’d ever see him again.
‘May I come in?’
He sounded tired, and Rachel immediately stepped to one side to allow him through the doorway. He was wearing a long black cashmere overcoat, open over dark pants and a black tee shirt, and the hem of the coat brushed the lower part of her leg as he went by.
Rachel’s breathing was suspended for a moment. And then she gathered herself sufficiently to grab the door and close it again, shutting the much cooler air out in the corridor.
The apartments comprised a small foyer leading into a large living-cum-dining room, with a small kitchen off to the side. But once again Matt’s presence made the room seem much smaller, his dark maleness making her intensely aware of her own rumpled appearance.
‘I’ll just go and put some clothes on,’ she began, but he held up a hand when she would have fled into her bedroom.
‘No,’ he said huskily. �
��Don’t.’
‘But I look—’
‘—beautiful the way you are,’ Matt assured her, his green eyes shadowed by emotions she couldn’t begin to fathom. ‘Can we sit down?’
‘Before you fall down, you mean?’ Rachel knew a surge of anxiety, but she tried not show it. ‘You look—exhausted.’
‘Gee, thanks. And after I was so complimentary about you,’ he remarked wryly.
‘You just—well, you don’t look as if you’ve been sleeping very well.’ She gestured towards the sofa. ‘Go ahead. Sit. I’ll get you some coffee.’
‘I don’t need any coffee.’ Matt’s hand closed around her bare arm, his fingers dark against the lingering remains of her tan. ‘Stay with me. We need to talk.’
‘Yes.’ Rachel agreed with him there. ‘Mostly about what you’re doing here.’
‘I told you. I’m here because I had to see you.’
Rachel shook her head. ‘It’s been three weeks, Matt—’
‘Do you think I don’t know that?’
He spoke harshly, his fingers tightening painfully about her wrist. Rachel had the feeling he was nearing the end of his tether. The anguish in his face wasn’t simulated. He really did look worn out.
‘Look, let me get you that coffee,’ she said, urging him back towards the sofa. ‘You relax, hmm? It won’t take long.’
‘I don’t want any coffee,’ Matt insisted, but to her relief he did release her arm and slip off his overcoat. He tossed it over the back of the sofa, then sank wearily onto the edge of the cushions. ‘There. Will that do?’
Rachel pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. She couldn’t help but be aware that his eyes were now on a level with the waistband of her shorts. Aware, too, of the revealing strip of midriff it exposed, and the pulse that was hammering in her throat.
‘Okay.’ Matt raked agitated fingers over his scalp. ‘First of all, has Sara been here?’
Rachel hesitated. ‘Ye-es.’
‘God, I knew it!’ Matt’s eyes had darkened again and his exclamation was bitter. ‘As soon as she realised what I would do, she high-tailed it back here—’ He broke off. ‘I’m assuming she told you—?’
He sighed, and, realising what he wanted to say, Rachel murmured, ‘If you’re meaning that I’m adopted, I already knew. I overheard my father and my aunt Laura talking. She was of the opinion that I should have been told years ago.’
‘Thank God for Aunt Laura!’ For the first time there was a trace of humour in Matt’s face. ‘I bet Sara was livid when she found out.’
‘Matt…’
‘Well…’ He was unrepentant. ‘When I think of what she’s put me through!’
‘What she’s put you through?’
Rachel looked confused, but Matt only shook his head. ‘I’ll get to that,’ he said unevenly. ‘Let me tell you why I didn’t come to find you before this, right?’
Rachel lifted her shoulders. ‘If—if it’s important.’
‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’ She’d forgotten the precarious state of his emotions. He scowled. ‘Of course it’s important, dammit. It’s the most important thing of all. What do you want to hear? That I can’t eat? Can’t sleep? That ever since you left I’ve been blaming myself for ruining your life?’
‘Ruining my life?’ Rachel stared at him in disbelief.
‘Well, okay.’ Matt conceded the point. ‘Perhaps that was too melodramatic. But, hell, Rachel, you know what I’m getting at.’ He paused, and then went on more calmly. ‘You were a virgin. You didn’t get that way by inviting jerks like me into your bed.’
‘Jerks like you?’
‘Yeah.’ Matt groaned. ‘I should have realised how innocent you were. I should have waited until we knew one another better. But—I couldn’t keep my hands off you.’ He gave a harsh laugh. ‘Ironic, isn’t it, when I criticised you for not trusting me?’
Rachel frowned now. ‘You don’t regret what happened?’
‘Don’t be crazy!’
‘Then I don’t—’
‘I thought that was why you left the island without seeing me again,’ Matt interrupted her harshly. He tipped back his head and stared up at the ceiling for a moment, as if he might find inspiration there. ‘Do you have any idea how I felt when I arrived back at the hotel and found you’d checked out that morning?’
He looked at her again. ‘Obviously not. Well, believe me, I was devastated. And the only reason I could come up with was that you regretted what I’d done and you didn’t want to see me again.’
Rachel’s jaw dropped. ‘But didn’t my mother—? Well, no, I suppose she wouldn’t.’
‘What?’ Matt’s gaze was intent. ‘Tell me that perhaps she knew why you’d left? Confide that she’d had a cosy little chat with you? Inform me that you thought I was your brother, even? Yeah, I think we both know Sara better than that.’
‘Oh, Matt!’ Giving in to the urge to be nearer to him, Rachel moved closer. ‘And I’ve been thinking you were glad you didn’t have to see me again.’
‘How could you think that?’ Matt reached for her then, his hands closing about the upper part of her thighs, pulling her between his legs. He leant towards her, pressing his face into the warm mound of her belly. ‘That night we spent together was the best night of my entire life.’
‘And—and mine,’ whispered Rachel shakily, and Matt lifted his head to look up at her again.
‘So, then, can I take it that you wouldn’t have left the island if Sara hadn’t spoken to you?’ he demanded.
‘Do you have to ask?’ Rachel was trembling now.
‘Maybe I just need to hear you say the words,’ said Matt unsteadily, and the sensual quality of his gaze made her knees go weak.
‘I wouldn’t have left,’ she admitted honestly. ‘Not without seeing you again anyway.’ She felt his thumbs invading the hem of her shorts and jerked uneasily. ‘But you should have told me that Sara was your mother.’
‘Yeah, I should.’ Matt’s eyes darkened. ‘Though with hindsight it’s probably just as well I didn’t, hmm? I mean—God, can you imagine how you’d have felt if I’d told you?’
Rachel let him pull her closer, until her knees were resting against the junction of his thighs. It was incredibly hard to think with the heat and the scent and the pure male strength of him surrounding her, so that all she really wanted to do was give in to whatever he asked of her.
In an effort to hold on to some semblance of normality, she said unsteadily, ‘You could have told me I was adopted.’
‘Oh, yeah.’ Matt had to smile at that, his lean face creasing into the attractive lines she knew so well. ‘How would that conversation have gone, I wonder? Look, sweetheart, Sara’s really my biological mother, right? But don’t be alarmed because you’re adopted, okay?’
Rachel felt a reluctant giggle stir in her throat. ‘All the same…’
‘All the same—what?’ He gazed up at her, his hands slipping inside the hem of her shorts to cup the rounded curve of her bottom. ‘Help me out. I’m dying here.’
Rachel quivered. ‘Well, you knew I was adopted, and obviously thought I knew it, too. So why didn’t you just tell me Sara was your mother?’
‘Oh, that…’
‘Yes, that.’
He pulled a wry face. ‘I didn’t deliberately set out to deceive you. But you were obviously looking for your mother, and I knew that as soon as you found her you’d probably leave.’ He leant towards her and licked the delicate skin of her midriff. ‘And I didn’t want that to happen.’
Rachel’s fingers lifted to curve around his face. ‘Do you mean that?’
Matt uttered a hoarse sound. ‘Dammit, of course I mean it,’ he said roughly. ‘Do you think I like the idea of you thinking I was involved with someone else?’
Rachel shook her head. ‘I was so jealous!’
‘Jealous?’
‘Don’t pretend you didn’t know.’
‘All I know is I’ve never felt this way before,’ mu
ttered Matt a little harshly. With an impatient exclamation, he came to his feet and pulled her fully into his arms.
His mouth found hers almost of its own volition. With one hand behind her head, and the other pressing her close against his aroused body, he took possession of her lips with a heated urgency that betrayed his hungry need. Wedging one leg between hers, he let her feel his erection, drew one of her hands to him so she could shape its pulsing length.
‘God, I’ve needed this,’ he muttered at last, his breathing laboured as he sought the sensitive hollow of her throat. ‘Just tell me that you feel the same way, or I think I really will go crazy. This has been the longest three weeks of my whole life.’
‘And mine,’ whispered Rachel, winding her arms about his neck and lifting one leg to stroke her toes down his calf. ‘I thought—well, you know what I thought. And finding out Sara was your mother…’ She paused. ‘Well, I was sure she would convince you to stay away from me.’
‘Baby, a herd of wild horses couldn’t have kept me away,’ he told her fervently. ‘As soon as I realised what Sara had told you, I couldn’t wait to get on a flight to England.’
Then he was kissing her again, long drugging kisses that weakened her knees and inflamed her blood. The feel of his hard body, the clean male scent of his skin, the possessive touch of his hands, were all sending electric shocks throughout her body. Even the scratch of his night’s stubble caused a delicious thrill of awareness to feather her spine.
At last Matt released her mouth again, to say raggedly, ‘I want you.’ His hands were beneath her tee shirt, and his thumbs were brushing the undersides of her breasts. Then he spread his palms over her nipples and added unsteadily, ‘I want you naked, in a bed, with me…’
Chapter Sixteen
RACHEL’S bed was still tumbled, the way she’d left it. The rosebuds on the pillowcases and duvet cover were typically her, and Matt gazed at the bed with a feeling of utter contentment. They were together, and that was the most satisfying thing of all.
It was easy to undress Rachel. Her tee shirt was soon tugged over her head, and the men’s boxers were too big for her anyway. Releasing one button had them pooling about her ankles, and Matt took a few seconds just to look at her. This was the woman he’d been searching all his life for, he thought incredulously. And he could hardly believe she was his.
