by Lee, Miranda
Leah decided then and there not to tell Jason about the accident over the phone.
She would not give him the chance to become used to the idea of her being scarred. She would show him. Without warning. And she would watch his eyes.
His eyes would tell her all she needed to know.
‘I think we need to talk,’ she said abruptly. ‘Could you come over to my place?’
Jason did a double take at his end of the line. But he pulled himself together quickly. He’d never been a man to look a gift horse in the mouth.
‘When?’ he asked.
‘How about now—tonight?’
His heart leapt. So did something else.
‘I’ll be right up.’
‘What? You mean…’ Leah ran across her living room, through the open glass doors and out on to her balcony, almost dropping the phone when she leant over the railing.
Directly below sat his blue sports car, the driver’s door swinging open as she peered down.
He climbed out, his phone still clamped to his ear.
He was casually dressed, the charcoal business suit he’d been wearing at work now replaced by bone chinos and a dark open-necked shirt that shimmered faintly purple under the street light. His dark hair shone as well, indicating a recent shower.
Even from that distance Leah experienced a squishy feeling in her stomach as she stared down at him.
‘I got your address from your employment file as well,’ he confessed drily as he banged the car door shut, then glanced up the three floors towards her balcony.
When their eyes connected, Leah swallowed.
‘You’re a wicked man,’ she choked out.
‘You’re a very beautiful woman,’ he replied smoothly.
Leah’s chest tightened. So they were back to that again. Her so-called beauty.
This time, however, she wasn’t going to run away. She was going to see what Jason was made of.
‘I’ll tell Keith to let you come up,’ she said abruptly, and swung away from the railing. ‘I’m in apartment 3a.’
Unnecessary information, she realised after she let the doorman know the name of her imminent visitor. Jason already knew her address. And her phone number. And whatever else was in her resumé.
Though that wasn’t much. She’d protected her true identity and her past from prying eyes at work.
Jason knew nothing of her marriage to Carl, or that she was an heiress in her own right.
How much should I tell him? she wondered, and then worried. A man who had once married for money should possibly be kept in the dark about her wealth.
But how could she explain this apartment?
She would have to tell him something.
Her doorbell ringing sent Leah into a spin. She should not have just stood there, dithering. She should have gone and put some clothes on. To answer her door with nothing on but her bathrobe was brazen in the extreme.
Yet she wasn’t brazen. Not at all!
She was, however, determined to be master of her own destiny. Given that, there was little point in dressing now, Leah decided.
Tightening the sash around her waist, she scooped in a deep breath, then walked with a renewed sense of composure towards the door.
Chapter 8
Jason could not believe how nervous he felt as he waited for Leah to answer her doorbell. Like a schoolboy on his first real date.
Once she’d invited him up, he hadn’t had the patience to take the lift. Instead, he’d charged up the three flights of stairs, taking several steps at a time, arriving at her floor with his blood hot and his heart galloping like a racehorse in the final furlong of the Melbourne Cup.
The door finally opened, and his pounding heart skidded to a halt.
During his swinging single years—before he’d met and married Karen—Jason had had apartment doors opened to him by sexily dressed women. And scantily clad women.
Once, he’d even been met at the door by a stark naked woman.
But none had affected him as powerfully as the sight of Leah Johannsen, encased in a Japanese-style robe that was almost as exquisite as she was.
The fact that she was braless beneath the red silk kimono was swiftly all too evident. So was the fact that she was either as excited as he was…or very cold.
Given it was summer, he didn’t think the latter was an option. Not a calming thought.
Jason suddenly didn’t know where to look. Certainly not at her rock-like nipples. Or into her seductive green eyes. Or that softly luscious mouth whose lipstick he could still taste on his own lips.
He found himself staring over her shoulder into the main living area of her apartment, noting its spaciousness, and style. Nothing bargain-basement in there. Or shared. Jason knew, without being told, that Leah didn’t have any flatmates. She lived here alone. The only unknown was how she could afford it.
A dark suspicion invaded his mind. Maybe she didn’t always live here alone.
Maybe someone else paid the rent, then paid her the occasional visit. Maybe that was where the problem lay with her. She already had a rich lover and wasn’t free to take another.
‘Come in,’ she said throatily, taking a step back and waving him inside.
As he moved past her, Jason glanced down at her bare but beautiful feet with their scarlet painted toes, thinking to himself that he would have those feet wound around him before this night was out, regardless.
His heart jolted back into life, thudding with wicked purpose.
‘This is a pretty swanky place,’ he heard himself saying as he moved across the plush, sable-coloured carpet towards the elegant seating arrangement in the centre of the room. ‘How on earth can you afford it on your salary?’
He turned to find her regarding him with an expression that made him feel ashamed of his suspicion.
‘I can’t,’ she replied coldly. ‘I own this apartment. I bought it with some money that was left to me a couple of years ago.’
Jason’s eyebrows lifted. Had to have been a reasonably sizeable inheritance. ‘I see,’ he said.
‘I doubt it,’ she snapped, and walked over to pick up a glass of wine, which was sitting on one of the two side tables flanking the rich cream sofa.
‘Forgive me if I don’t offer you a drink just yet,’ she said, and gulped down the wine. ‘I need a little Dutch courage here,’ she added as she placed the glass back where it came from.
Before he could open his mouth to ask her what was going on, her hands went to the sash around her waist.
Shock had him swallowing. As much as he wanted this girl, he didn’t want her to strip off in front of him like…like some cheap slut. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss as he had before. He wanted to hear her moan, feel her melt against him. He wanted to make love to her, damn it!
But she didn’t undo the ties. Instead, she gripped them tightly in one hand whilst her other hand moved down to splay across her stomach, like she was holding it in. Suddenly, she shoved her right leg forward, the action parting the robe right up to mid-thigh, but no further. All Jason could see was her leg.
A very beautifully shaped leg with a nice calf muscle and slender ankle.
But just a leg.
Leah watched his eyes like a hawk watches its prey. Watched them and waited.
But the only emotion she could find in his startled gaze was surprise, followed by a weird kind of relief.
Was the man blind? Surely he could see the scars. Surely!
But he didn’t seem to notice them.
When she looked down, Leah saw that the worst of the scars were still hidden by the robe. In her efforts to maintain her dignity, she’d kept the darned thing shut too far.
‘Now can you see them?’ she said, thrusting her leg out a bit further, at the same time pointing her toe and unbending her knee.
He just blinked. Nothing more. Just a blink, followed by a small frown of bewilderment.
‘Yes,’ he eventually replied. ‘I can see them.’
Had to be. No one could look at those ugly white ridges and not feel some repulsion. She was repulsed, and she’d lived with them for two years.
‘Is this what the problem is?’ he questioned her quietly, his gaze no longer on her leg, but on her face. ‘Those little marks on your thigh?’
‘Little marks?’ she practically screamed at him as she pulled her leg back in and wrapped the robe back defensively around it. ‘They’re not little marks.
They’re scars. Horrible, hideous, huge scars. Stop pretending they aren’t.’
He seemed taken aback. ‘Show them to me again,’ he said. ‘Maybe I didn’t see them correctly.’
Jason saw the horror in her face at his suggestion, sympathy filling his heart as he remembered how Karen had felt about her mastectomy scars. He’d had a lot of trouble convincing his wife that he still found her a desirable woman without her breasts. She would cover her scarred chest all the time.
His heart sank as the reality of this situation sank in. This girl was far too vulnerable for him to use as he’d been going to use her. No point in his pussyfooting around with his own less-than-honourable intentions. He had to be straight with himself. His plan had been a rather callous seduction tonight, followed by a strictly sexual affair.
Some women could cope with that kind of thing. But Leah wasn’t one of them.
‘They’re not so bad, Leah,’ Jason said with a soft sigh. ‘I didn’t even notice them at first.’
‘Yeah, right,’ she said, her arms lifting to wrap around herself.
Jason just stood there, not sure what to say and do. ‘So what happened?’ he finally asked.
‘Do you really want to know?’ she threw at him.
‘Yes,’ he returned firmly.
‘I was in a car accident. Two years ago.’
‘And?’
‘And I don’t really want to talk about it. Look, you don’t have to stay and make sympathetic noises. I can see by your body language that you’d rather just cut and run. I understand. Truly. I’ve been there, done that, with another man just like you. I mean…you only want physical perfection, don’t you? Not damaged goods.’
Jason stared at her. She was right. And she was wrong. He didn’t give a damn about the scars. He still found her incredibly beautiful and desirable.
But he did want to cut and run, before he was tempted to totally forget his conscience and exploit her vulnerabilities for all they were worth. Some man—some contemptible bastard—had done a right number on her at some stage.
Probably told her she was ugly now, or some such stupid thing.
‘Who was it, Leah?’ he demanded to know.
Her green eyes flashed at him. ‘Who was what?’
‘The man who made you so self-conscious about your scars?’
‘My husband, if you must know.’
‘Husband!’ So that was what she’d been doing all those years. She’d been married.
‘Yes. I was married,’ she confirmed sharply. ‘Once. But never again, I assure you.’
Her bitter assurance was a temptation in itself. After all, he didn’t want to get married again, either. Not because he’d been betrayed. But because he’d loved too much.
That was what this girl needed. To be loved the way he’d loved Karen. Jason knew he didn’t have that kind of love left in him any more. But maybe somewhere there was some man who did, some really decent guy who would show Leah that her life wasn’t over because of one man’s shallowness and cruelty.
If he left her alone, she might find that man. She’d just be wasting her time with him.
When he came towards her, alarm filled her face and her arms tightened around herself.
‘What…what are you doing?’ she said, stumbling back against the sofa when he reached out to cup her face.
‘I’m going to kiss you goodbye,’ he said, and planted a soft peck on her forehead. ‘Not because of your scars, Leah. I won’t let you believe that, because it isn’t true. I still think you are the most beautiful, most desirable girl I have ever met. But because you deserve someone a lot better than me in your life.’
Her eyes swam with tears as she gazed up at him. ‘You…you don’t want me any more.’
His heart actually twisted. ‘I want you now more than ever.’
‘Then show me,’ she begged him.
‘God, but you’re making it hard.’
‘I don’t want you to go,’ she sobbed, and suddenly wrapped her arms around his back, pulling him tightly against her. ‘Please. Please don’t go. Stay with me tonight.’
He jerked back to stare down into her tear-stained face and pleading eyes.
‘You don’t mean that.’
‘I do. I do.’
The desperation in her voice was an even more persuasive force than the feel of her body pressed up to his. And that was pretty persuasive.
How could he possibly leave her now? Her self-confidence would be shattered forever if he did.
But even as his mouth began to descend, Jason vowed to himself that tonight was all there would be. One night, he would give her. And himself. He wasn’t that
much of a hypocrite that he didn’t recognise he was going to get something out of this, too.
But by morning he would be gone. Gone from her bed and her life. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.
Chapter 9
He still wants me, Leah cried to herself as his mouth took passionate possession of hers.
No peck on the forehead this time. A real kiss, deep and hungry, flooding her with waves of desire, so hot and strong she thought she might faint with them.
She could not get enough of his mouth, but especially his tongue. Each time it slipped past her teeth, she wanted to keep it there, a prisoner of her own passion.
‘No, don’t stop,’ she cried aloud when his head finally lifted.
His wry laughter was reassuring.
‘I don’t think you have to worry about my stopping, beautiful,’ he told her as he swept her up into his arms. ‘I presume this is the way to your bedroom,’ he added as he carried her down the only hallway in her apartment.
She didn’t reply. She was too busy looking up at him with wildly adoring eyes.
How handsome he was. Perfect in every way, from his dark, deeply set eyes to his incredibly sexy mouth.
When her right hand lifted to touch his full bottom lip, his step faltered, his eyes glittering as they dropped to hers.
‘If you keep doing that,’ he growled, ‘and looking at me like that, I won’t be able to control myself.’
‘I don’t want you to control yourself,’ she confessed.
His four-letter word shocked her, but only because it excited her beyond her own control.
She almost told him yes, yes, that’s what I want you to do to me. Nothing gentle. Nothing romantic. I want it rough and wild.
‘Tell me you can’t possibly get pregnant tonight,’ came his gruff request.
‘I can’t possibly get pregnant tonight,’ she replied obediently, whilst thinking to herself that it was unlikely. Her period had only just finished a couple of days ago.
But, in truth, she didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything but having him make mad passionate love to her.
‘Thank goodness,’ Jason muttered darkly as he carried her into her bedroom.
The room was exactly what he would have expected her bedroom to look like. Soft and pretty and feminine, with pale cream walls and a buttery cream carpet. The brass bed resting against the far wall looked like a genuine antique. High, but not that wide, with a cream lace valance, cream satin quilt and a mound of matching satin and lace pillows resting against the bedhead. The brass-based lamps sitting on the two antique bedside chests were exquisite, their cream shades edged with long drops of crystal. They were both switched on, casting soft circles of lights over the bed.
The realisati
on that he would soon be on that bed with Leah did little to help Jason’s uncharacteristic lack of control. He’d never been like this with Hilary.
Or even Karen, whom he’d loved. Truthfully, he hadn’t ever been like this.
How on earth am I going to make this good for her? he worried as he carried Leah across the room. Already he was painfully erect, his blood charging through his veins at the rate of knots. He ached to throw her on to that virginal-looking quilt and just do it. Without foreplay. Without anything. Just straight into her. Pounding away.
‘Do you have anything on under that robe?’ he asked thickly as he lowered her to her feet beside the bed.
She shook her head and swayed against him, the silken tips of her breasts connecting with his stomach.
He sucked in sharply. ‘Hell, Leah, I hope you meant it about wanting me to lose control. Because I’m losing it right now.’
‘Good,’ she said, her glittering green eyes not in any way shy, but suddenly surprisingly bold.
Jason needed no further encouragement.
He yanked the robe back off her shoulders, not bothering with the ties. But when he dragged it down her arms, the damned thing stopped at her waist, trapping her arms by her sides and leaving him staring at the most provocative and perfect breasts he had ever seen.
Lusciously full, they were. High-set, not heavy, with large areolae and the pinkest, pointiest nipples.
He had to touch them. Tug at them. Taste them.
‘Oh, Leah, Leah,’ he groaned as he scooped her up and laid her down in the middle of her quilt, his eyes hot on her as he straightened to stand at the side of the bed.
‘No, don’t move,’ he ordered her when her arms wriggled in the sleeves of the robe, clearly trying to extricate herself. ‘Stay exactly as you are.’
He loved the look of her spread out on that sensuous satin quilt, her lower half covered, but her chest and upper arms totally exposed. The paleness of her naked skin against the red silk was incredibly erotic. So was the richness of the red against the pale cream of the bed.
Only one thing was wrong with the picture. Her hair. It should be down.
