by Jennie Lucas
“But in your current state...who will take care of you?”
“Miss Maywood.”
She eyed me dubiously. “What about in the kitchen?”
“In the kitchen,” he said gravely, “as in all areas.”
He didn’t meet my eye, and a good thing too, since I could barely keep from laughing.
“In that case...I’m off.” Mrs. MacWhirter looked relieved. “Happy Christmas, Mr. St. Cyr, Miss Maywood. Take good care of him,” she added with a beady glint in her eye.
“I will,” I murmured, feeling new appreciation for her, now that I knew she’d been caring for Edward since he was a child.
And I kept my promise, all right. I took very good care of Edward over Christmas week. Just as he took very good care of me. We huddled in the warmest rooms of Penryth Hall, lighting a fire with a Yule log, and watched the snow rise in the chilly wind outside.
We had sex for Christmas. Sex for Boxing Day. Sex for New Year’s Eve. In between, we had champagne, opened Christmas crackers, wore paper crowns and gobbled up a Christmas goose we’d prepared ourselves—Edward actually knew how to cook, somewhat to my surprise—and a great deal of trifle.
I’m not going to lie. It was a very naked week. Alone just the two of us, we barely bothered with clothes. Edward said it was more efficient that way, plus he just liked the look of me. We lit fires in every room, in every possible way.
Christmas morning, we made love beneath the tree and it was so explosive that at the critical moment, ornaments and tinsel fell on Edward’s head. Edward looked up with a mix of amusement and annoyance.
“I’ve heard about choirs of angels singing,” he grumbled, looking at the angelic item that just had landed on his back from the very top of the tree, “but this is ridiculous.”
With a laugh, I pulled him back over me, and we wrapped ourselves in tinsel.
But on New Year’s Eve, as all the world looked with anticipation toward the bright, shiny new year, I felt building sadness, the sense that our time was running out. I tried to ignore the feeling, telling myself I should be grateful for the magical weeks we’d spent together. But all I could feel was misery, that soon Edward would return to London, to work long hours at a job he didn’t particularly like, and I would go back to California, to face the scandal I’d left behind, and see if I had the courage to try acting again. Just thinking of it made me want to cover my head with a pillow. And as for the thought of never seeing Edward again, never ever....
“Stop sighing,” Edward said across the table. “I don’t believe it for a second. I’m not going to fall for it again.”
We were sitting in the study, at a folding table we’d moved directly in front of the fire, where for the past hour we’d been playing strip poker. Caesar the sheepdog was stretched out on a rug beside us, ignoring us, clearly disgusted by the whole thing. I sat half-naked in my chair, wearing only panties, a bra, knee socks and Edward’s tie. Which probably sounds grim, where strip poker is concerned. But Edward had only his silk boxers left. He was sweating.
“Where did you learn to play like this?” he demanded, staring down fiercely at his own cards.
“Madison taught me,” I said sweetly. “We used to play all the time.”
His scowl deepened. “I might have known Madison was at the bottom of this.”
“Yeah.” I looked down at my own cards. I didn’t even have a particularly good hand, but due to my confidence—and the straight flush I’d had in the last round—he believed I might. Nothing except a miracle could save him now. Madison had taught me this much about acting—how to bluff.
Madison. I missed her, in spite of everything. I’d called my stepfather on Christmas, on set in New Mexico, where he was filming the latest season of his highly regarded cable TV zombie series. I would have tried to call Madison too, except Howard let me know she’d just left for some ashram in India, to cope with her explosively public breakup with Jason.
“She could use a friend, kiddo,” Howard had told me quietly.
“She doesn’t want to talk to me,” I’d mumbled. “She hates me.”
“No, sweetie, no. Well, maybe. But I think the person she hates most right now is herself.”
Edward’s cell phone rang, rattling violently across the table, drawing me out of my reverie.
“Saved by the bell,” I murmured. “Don’t think it will save you. Those boxers will be mine...”
But he was no longer listening. His jaw was tight as he answered the phone. “Rupert. What the hell do you want?”
Rising to his feet, he kept the phone to his ear as he stalked back and forth across the study, barking angry words into the phone—words I didn’t understand, like EBITDA, proxy fight, flip-over and poison pill. Whatever it meant, it made Edward so angry that he utterly forgot me sitting half-naked in the chair, staring up at him, wearing his tie. He just paced back and forth in front of the fire. Caesar lifted his head and watched his master walk to and fro, as bewildered and alarmed as I was.
“And I’m telling you,” Edward bit out, “if you don’t pull this together the shareholders will never forgive...no, it was not my fault. I set it on target. It was fine in September.” He paused, then strode five steps before turning. His pace was almost a stomp as he said acidly, “Oh, I’m sorry, was it inconvenient to the company that I had to take a few months off when I nearly died? Even half-dead, I’m twice the man you...” He halted, grinding his teeth. “No, you listen to me....” A curse came from his lips that made me flinch. “If the deal is falling apart, you’re the one to blame, and the board of directors will see—” He stopped. His shoulders looked so tight that I was afraid of what he might be doing to the muscles of his shoulders and spine. He ground his teeth. “I know what you’re doing, you bastard, and it won’t work. St. Cyr Global belongs to me....”
I couldn’t listen anymore. Sliding miserably off the chair, I grabbed my clothes that had been flung so eagerly to the floor. Shivering, though I was near the roaring fire, I pulled his tie off my throat. Edward’s eye caught me, now standing in front of the enormous fireplace that was taller than me, and his expression briefly lightened as his eyes approvingly traced the scarlet lace bra and panties that had been a Christmas gift. From me to him. His forehead furrowed into a frown as, without answering his smile, I turned away and silently pulled on my long cotton sweater and black knit leggings.
“I’ll be there tomorrow,” he snapped, and clicked off the phone. Coming toward me, he said, “What are you doing?”
“That should be obvious,” I said.
“Take your clothes back off,” he said huskily, pulling me into his arms. “We’re in the middle of a game. There’s no reason for you to quit. You’re winning.”
Winning. The word made me shudder. Because when he was on the phone, talking to that man—his cousin?— Edward’s voice had sounded different. Harsher. Like someone who cared about winning. At any cost.
I’d come to see another side of Edward over the past few months. Even Jason Black, the man I’d thought I’d loved, now seemed like a pale shadow of memory compared to the devilish, sexy, arrogant man who’d become the center of my life. Edward knew the best of me—and the worst. For weeks now, I’d tried not to think about how soon I’d be leaving this magical place and returning to California, to face the real world. But now...
I pulled away from his embrace, avoiding his gaze. “You’re going back to London.”
“That multibillion deal I told you about is falling apart,” he said grimly. “I’m going first thing in the morning.”
“On New Year’s Day?”
“My cousin,” he spat out the word, “is trying to sabotage it. I’ve been gone too long. Once the deal’s back on track, I’ll get the stockholders together and see about eliminating him....”
“Eliminating?”
He snorted a laugh. “From the board of directors. What did you think I meant?”
I licked my lips. “Well...”
“You really do think the worst of me,” he said, sounding amused rather than offended. “But Rupert has a wife and young children he barely sees. I’d like to free him from all the pesky duties of COO, so he could devote more time to his family.”
“You could do that yourself,” I pointed out.
“Ah, but I don’t have a family,” he said lightly. Leaning forward, he kissed my nose. “I couldn’t be responsible for a houseplant.”
“That’s not true.”
“Sadly, it is.”
“What about Caesar?”
The dog lifted his head at hearing his name. Edward looked down at him affectionately. “This lazybones? You know he’s technically Mrs. MacWhirter’s dog, not mine. And she’ll be back from Scotland tomorrow. There’s no help for it.” Edward stared down at me grimly. “I need to go back.”
In spite of his words, as I looked at his body posture, I’d never seen any man less keen to do anything.
“I understand.” I kept my voice even, squaring my shoulders and trying to look calm, though I wanted to cling to him and whimper. “I’ll go pack my things.”
“Good.” He looked distracted. Geez. It’s not like I expected Edward to say he was wretchedly heartbroken, and that he’d miss me desperately, but...
I suddenly realized that was exactly what I’d expected. We’d had a torrid ten day affair, months of friendship before that, and I’d actually thought I meant something to him. In spite of the fact that he’d warned me that I wouldn’t. In spite of his warnings, in spite of my promise, I’d come to care for him. Really care.
I was so stupid!
Trembling, I tried to smile. “I’ll go see about the next flight to L.A.” I bit my lip. “It’s good timing, really. I should be thanking that cousin of yours. My stepfather invited me to spend a week on his set as an extra. It’ll be fun to be a zombie. And I’ve heard New Mexico is beautiful....”
Edward focused on me. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re going to London tomorrow.”
“Yes.”
I licked my lips. “So there’s no point in me staying here.”
“None.”
“Right.” I set my shoulders and tried to arrange my face into a calm, pleasant, totally unfazed expression. “That means this is goodbye.”
His dark eyebrows raised. “You’re abandoning me?”
“You just said there’s no reason for me to stay!”
“There’s no reason for you to stay at Penryth Hall,” he said with almost insulting patience, “because you’re coming with me to London.”
I stared at him. In spite of his almost rude care in speaking the words, it seemed he hadn’t said them carefully enough, because I still couldn’t understand them.
“You want me to come with you?” I said dumbly. “To London?”
“Yes-s-s,” he said, enunciating even more slowly. “To London.”
I tried to ignore the rush of relief that went through me, the pathetic joy in my heart that he wanted me, that the moment of separation could be avoided for a bit longer. “But what on earth would I do there?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “I could hire you back as my physio.”
“Come on. You can jog now. You don’t need a physical therapist anymore.”
“Then,” he said huskily, “come as my full-time lover.”
“I’d live in London and just—spend time with you in bed?”
“Think of it as a vacation.”
“You won’t be on vacation. You’ll be working all the time.”
“Not at night.” He gave me a wicked grin. “I’ll be your toy boy then, what do you say?” He came closer. “You’ll have me all night. Isn’t that what you love about me?”
I love everything about you, I wanted to say. The way you touch me. The sound of your voice. The way you make me laugh. Everything.
But I knew it was the last thing that he wanted to hear. It was supposed to be a physical affair, nothing more. I looked at him in the flickering firelight of his study. He was still dressed only in silk boxers from our strip poker match, and my gaze lingered at his powerful torso, hard-muscled biceps and thickly hewn thighs. Sex was enough, I told myself. It had to be enough.
“Diana?” He was staring at me. I realized I’d taken too long to respond.
“Of course that’s what I love best,” I said, tossing my head. “What else is there about you to love?”
“Such a heartless woman,” he sighed, then drew closer. Nuzzling me, he cupped my breast through my thin cotton sweater. My nipples turned instantly hard, pressing up through the red lace of my bra, thrusting visibly against the sweater. He whispered, “Allow me to serve you, then, milady....”
Falling to his knees in front of me, Edward suckled me, pressing his mouth over my nipple. I gasped as I felt his hot mouth through the thin cotton and fillip of red lace beneath. His free hand wrapped around my other breast, then a moment later, he moved to that side.
My sweater disappeared, then the red lace bra. With a growl of satisfaction, he lowered his mouth to my bare skin. My head fell back, my eyes closed. His lips were hot and soft, satin and steel. When he drew back, I was shivering with need, just like the first time he’d touched me. As though we hadn’t been making love four times a day, every day, for the past ten days.
“So we’re agreed,” he murmured. Rising to his feet, he pulled me into his arms. “You’ll come with me to London.”
“I can’t just go there as...as your sex toy,” I said in a small voice, my stupid, traitorous heart yearning for him to argue with me, to tell me I meant more to him than that.
“I know.” He suddenly smiled. “London has a thriving theater scene. You can live at my house as you audition for acting roles.”
“Audition?” I said, trying to keep the fear from my voice.
“It’s perfect.” Running his hands down my back, he kissed my cheek, my neck. “By day, you pursue your dreams. At night...you’ll belong to me.”
Cupping my face, he kissed me, hot and demanding. I wrapped my arms around him, kissing him back recklessly, ignoring my troubled heart.
I couldn’t give him up. Not yet. Not when I could still live in his world of passion and color and desire for a little while longer. I wanted to be the bold woman who wore red lace panties for her lover, and paraded around nearly naked. I wasn’t ready to go back and be that invisible girl again. Not yet. I needed to be in his arms. I needed to be with him, one moment teasing each other, playing like children, and the next bursting into flame in the most adult way possible. It reminded me of the old definition of love—friendship on fire...
No. My eyes flew open. I cared about Edward, sure. I liked him a lot. But that wasn’t the same as being in love.
I couldn’t let it be.
I like him, that’s all, I told myself firmly. We have fun together. It’s not a crime.
I pulled away. “All right,” I said, keeping my voice casual. “I’ll come to London.”
“Good,” he said, with a low, sensual smile that said he’d never doubted he could convince me. Leaning me back against the poker table, he got me swiftly naked beneath the bright heat of the fire and made love to me.
And so the next morning, under the weak pink light of the dawn, I was packed up in his expensive car, along with the rest of his possessions, and driven east across the moor. Toward civilization.
CHAPTER FIVE
“WOW. YOU’RE NOT looking so great.”
The girl sitting beside me on one of the plastic chairs lining the hallway had a concerned look on her beautifully made-up face.
“I’m fine,” I replied, trying to br
eathe slowly, fervently trying to believe it. It had been two months since we’d arrived in London, and I’d felt strangely queasy, almost from the day we’d arrived here. I’d thought it was from fear, and also the guilt of lying to Edward about how I actually spent my days. But today, I’d finally faced my fear. For the first time, I was actually forcing myself to stay through an audition, rather than chickening out and fleeing for Trafalgar Square like a safely anonymous tourist.
For an hour, I’d sat here in the hallway, practicing my lines in my head and waiting for them to call my name. Shouldn’t the queasy feeling have gone away?
Instead, it had only increased as I waited backstage at a small, prestigious West End theater, surrounded by beautiful, professional-looking actors, who were loudly practicing their lines and doing elocution exercises, and taking no notice of me whatsoever. Except for the American girl sitting next to me.
“Are you feeling sick?” she asked now.
“Just nerves,” I said weakly.
“You look like you ate a bad curry. Or else it’s the flu.” Wrinkling her nose, she leaned away from me ever so slightly. “My sister looked like that the first three months she was pregnant....”
“I’m fine,” I repeated sharply, then swallowed, my head falling back as another wave of nausea went through me.
So much for my acting skills. Clearly not fooled, the girl looked nervously from side to side. “Oh. Good. Well. Um... Please excuse me. I have to practice my lines...over there.”
Getting up, she left in a hurry, as if she’d found herself sitting next to Typhoid Mary. I couldn’t blame her, because I felt perilously close to throwing up. Leaning my head against the wall, I closed my eyes and tried to breathe. I was so close to auditioning now. In a moment, they would call my name. I would speak my lines on the stage.
Then the casting agents would tell me that I sucked. It would be hideous and soul-crushing but at least I could slink home afterward and no longer be lying when I told Edward that while he was working eighteen-hour days at his office in Canary Wharf, I’d spent the day pursuing my dreams.
