The Friendship Barrier

Stephanie made a sound deep in her throat, barely aware of the animal terror in it, as Jake slid his hands over her back, drawing her body against his. She could have broken away; some part of her was aware of that, just as it was aware that Jake wasn’t using any physical pressure to bring her body close to his, but his eyes seemed to hypnotise her, draining her of the will to resist. She stood within the circle of his arms like a plastic doll, rigid and tense with the enormity of what was happening. Never once, in the two years since her attack, had Jake behaved like this, and part of her couldn’t believe what he was doing now. The glitter in his eyes was that of a man starved too long of something he hungered desperately for—dimly she recognised that fact and then repudiated it, Jake was no sex-starved adolescent. So why was he doing this to her?

His hand spread out against her spine, anchoring her against his lean frame, making it impossible for her to recoil from the intimate contact he was forcing upon her. She could smell the sharp tangy scent of his aftershave, her flesh acutely conscious of the warmth of his beneath the formality of his evening clothes. Without wanting to, she became aware of him in a way she never had before, her heart thudding in a mixture of apprehension and shock. His free hand slid up her spine to tangle in the chestnut thickness of her hair. Her eyes, shocked and hurt, widened as Jake forced her to meet his.

‘Your eyes are the colour of emeralds,’ he murmured, ‘they always go green when you’re emotionally aroused.’

Stephanie jerked against the constraining pressure of his hand in her hair in objection to his choice of words, and then closed her eyes, tensing her whole body, willing him to kiss her if that was what he intended, and end her torment. Unwittingly, she had tensed her hands into small fists, and dark colour surged up under her pale skin as Jake whispered sardonically against her ear, ‘You’re supposed to reciprocate, not clench your fingers in anticipation of some dreadful ordeal. Relax. All I’m going to do is kiss you, Stephanie…’

‘I can’t.’

The husky admission was torn from her aching throat. She badly wanted to cry, not so much from terror now, but from shock and hurt. Why was Jake, the only person she had thought understood and appreciated how she felt, behaving like this? She could hardly equate the cold, mocking stranger he had turned into with the man she had called her friend.

‘Then I’ll just have to help you, won’t I?’ His dark head bent towards her and Stephanie closed her eyes, tensing herself to receive his kiss, her lips dry and stiff… She could feel the heat of Jake’s hand spread against the back of her skull and she jumped nervously when his thumb brushed softly against the delicate area behind her ear. Shivers of reaction spread through her body from that brief point of contact, detonating a trembling response she couldn’t conceal.

‘Jake, please don’t do this…’ The request was stammered and hoarse, her lips almost too stiff to form the words.

‘Open your mouth, Steph, so I can kiss you properly.’ That was his only response, and one that Stephanie knew nothing could make her obey. Strangely enough, her fear that being in Jake’s arms would bring back all her nightmare memories of her attack was unfounded. She was frightened, almost terrified out of her wits, but her fear had more to do with the fact that she found the sudden change in Jake totally incomprehensible than any confusion of his embrace with those she had endured at the hands of her attackers, and her biggest fear of all was that, once Jake kissed her, she would lose him as her friend. Why on earth should he want to kiss her in the first place? Even before her attack, she had been rather withdrawn with men, and never in a million years could she hope to compete with the sexual experience of the women Jake normally dated.

Her lips pressed tightly together to stop them trembling she almost gasped out loud as Jake’s tongue tip brushed seductively over their tense outlines. Quivers of sensation like light, electric shocks rippled through her sensitive skin. Like an arid desert, bursting into full bloom after an unexpected shower of rain, she could feel the tension retreating and her lips softening into compliance beneath the warmth of Jake’s tongue as it stroked them into bemused acceptance of his unspoken commands. Without her even giving it conscious thought, her lips parted, her dark lashes fluttered upwards for a stunned, disbelieving second as she looked into the molten greyness of Jake’s eyes and knew that this was actually happening; that her body was actually quivering heatedly in response to the light play of Jake’s thumb against the tender flesh of her nape; that her mouth was actually moist and warm against his, allowing him to kiss her with an intimacy she couldn’t remember sharing with anyone before.

All at once, it was as though all her senses came truly alive, and she was acutely aware of everything about him; from the hard tension of his body against hers, the muscle and bone so different from her own yielding softness; to the musky, male scent of him that somehow excited and yet frightened at the same time.

She must have made some small protest because, suddenly and totally unexpectedly, she was free and Jake was three feet away from her regarding her with a look of mingled contempt and anger. Fear and misery poured through her making her ache in every nerve ending. It was almost as though she had been anaesthetised against pain and feeling, and had suddenly come tinglingly and painfully to life. She wasn’t sure that she liked the sensation. Her self-confidence had been totally undermined, and she was aware, not for the first time, just how emotionally dependent she was on Jake. If he turned away from her…

‘Come on, I’d better take you home,’ Jake’s brusque words cut through her anguished thoughts.

‘Jake…’ she began hesitantly, but he cut through what she was about to say, silencing her with a curt, ‘Look, let’s not have an inquest right now. If you’re looking for an explanation, let’s just say it was an experiment that went wrong.’

Too numb and exhausted by the violence of her own emotions, Stephanie stayed silent as he drove her home. Normally, after a late night, she stayed at the apartment with him, but tonight he had made no such suggestion. Was he growing tired of her as Susy had predicted he would? All the old insecurities she had suffered after the attack resurfaced, and she was glad to escape Jake’s silent presence when he eventually left her at her flat door.

After a night of disturbed and uneasy rest, she finally fell properly asleep in the early hours and woke up heavy-eyed and headachey well after ten o’clock.

‘Well, well, that must have been some night last night,’ Annette commented when she finally got up. ‘It isn’t like you to sleep in.’

‘I was tired,’ Stephanie lied briefly. A glance in her mirror before she walked into the kitchen had shown her an unfamiliarly wan face and pain-haunted eyes.

Somehow she got through the weekend, busying herself with unnecessary chores, and surveying her previous winter’s wardrobe. Her job called for her to be smartly and well-dressed, but as she looked at the sensible suits and severely cut blouses she had bought the previous winter, she knew a vague but definite dissatisfaction. Annette, who had nothing on for the weekend, came into her room to watch.

‘Heavens,’ she exclaimed breezily, examining the growing pile of garments, ‘these are almost like a uniform. If I had a figure like yours you’d never catch me wearing anything so dull. Why don’t you go mad for once and get yourself something really sexy? I would if I had your figure.’

‘Such as?’ Stephanie enquired drily. Annette favoured flamboyant, sometimes frankly gaudy clothes that Stephanie simply could not see herself in at all. Perhaps her clothes were a little on the dull side, but at least when she was wearing them no one could accuse her of trying to attract male attention. Her appearance never presented a sexual come-on or challenge.

‘Like this, for instance,’ Annette pounced triumphantly, flourishing a magazine she had been reading. ‘We’ve still got a couple of hours before the shops close. All the new season’s stock should be in by now, and don’t tell me you can’t afford it… with the salary I suspect Jake pays you…’

Stephanie wasn’t listening. She was staring transfixed at the photograph Annette was holding out to her. Numbly, she read the caption, ‘Susy Waldron, modelling the new Galman autumn range at the home of wealthy Florida businessman, Dale Mather. Another house guest was Susy’s escort, Jake Lorrimer. When asked about their romance, Susy refused to comment, but the couple were seen strolling arm in arm through Dale Mather’s justifiably famous gardens almost every evening of their visit.’

‘Stephanie, what’s wrong with you?’ Annette demanded. ‘What do you think of the dress? I can just see you in it.’

The dress in question was in soft, black angora, cut on deceptively demure lines, but Stephanie paid it scant attention. Jake and Susy together. Was that why he had kissed her? Because he and Susy were apart… because he knew that Susy did not like her. Jake was a man in whom the sensual currents ran strong and deep, and if she hadn’t known it before, she knew it now. Deep enough for him to sacrifice their friendship to his desire for Susy? Had Susy perhaps demanded as the price of her love, Stephanie’s own eviction from Jake’s personal life?

They were questions that Stephanie could not answer. She felt as though life had suddenly cast her adrift on unfamiliar and treacherous waters with nothing to cling to for support.

More to keep her mind occupied with other thoughts than for any other reason, she allowed Annette to persuade her to go shopping. They visited the exclusive Knightsbridge store that stocked the clothes featured in the magazine and at Annette’s insistence Stephanie tried on the black angora dress.

‘Stunning,’ was her verdict once it was on. ‘It looks even better on you than it did on the model. The colour brings out the red lights in your hair,’ she said critically. ‘Black suits you. And what about this?’ she brandished a glove-soft leather skirt in a softly muted olive-cum-khaki colour with a toning mohair jumper.

Stephanie stared at her, aghast. ‘Annette, I never wear anything like that,’ she told her distastefully, ‘Leather…’

‘Leather skirts are “in” this year,’ Annette argued firmly. ‘Try it on, at least. This jumper is gorgeous. If we weren’t saving so hard to get married, I might indulge in one myself.’

The jumper was lovely, Stephanie admitted when she had it on. The soft mohair caressed her skin with a sensuous warmth that made her unexpectedly aware of her own body, and, for a few seconds, she wasn’t sure if she liked the sensation. Appreciation of her own sensuality wasn’t something she was familiar with—that side of her nature had been suppressed, partially during her teens when she had only had her grandmother as an example, and then completely following the attack, when she had developed a morbid fear of anyone reading any hint of sexual compliance in her attitude. The satin-winged dragon motif appliqued to the front of the sweater felt unfamiliar beneath her finger tips and she had a sudden and very disturbing notion that Jake’s skin would feel very much the same. Smooth, yet strong. She snatched her fingers away from the satin as though they had been stung, blushing in the privacy of her changing room at the intimacy of her thoughts. What was happening to her? She had never even thought about touching Jake before, even in the most casual of fashions, never mind imagining his nude body, and yet, now… It must be the small enclosed space she was in that was making her feel so hot, she decided, quickly unfastening the studded side fastening of the leather skirt.

Perhaps it was because she was trying to come to terms with her unfamiliar feelings that she allowed Annette to persuade her into buying not only the leather skirt and the sweater, but also a matching silk shirt and the black angora dress, plus an evening suit cut to reveal the soft curves of her body, with a tiny, nipped-in waist and a low, revealing back, although when she was going to wear such a potentially provocative garment she wasn’t quite sure. Even the colour—a rich sapphire blue—wasn’t one she would normally have chosen.

‘You’ll wear it when you go out on these business dinners with Jake, of course,’ Annette chastised her when she voiced her doubts as they headed for the escalator. ‘Come on,’ she added. ‘I’m really getting into the swing of this fairy godmother thing now. I’m not letting you go back to the flat until you’ve bought some new underwear and you’ll need new shoes…’

‘Underwear? But…’

‘You’ll need something to wear under that suit,’ Annette reminded her. ‘It’s practically backless, remember—unless, of course, you’re planning to dispense with your bra?’

There was a wicked twinkle in her eyes as she added this last. Although slightly above medium height with a narrow waist and slender hips, Stephanie had very rounded and full breasts—a fact which she abhorred and did all she could to disguise, always wearing formal blouses and neat jackets.

‘What on earth are you looking like that for?’ Annette grinned. ‘What I’d give to swop my 32A for your 34C! You don’t know how lucky you are. Pity slinky sweaters aren’t in fashion this year. I’d just love to see your Jake’s face if you turned up at the office in one.’ She laughed again at Stephanie’s expression, and took advantage of her momentary lack of concentration to herd her into the lingerie department.

As before, Annette took charge before Stephanie could open her mouth, quickly explaining what was needed.

‘How about this?’ A soft pale grey silk satin camiknicker with a very low-cut back was produced for their inspection.

‘Oh, it’s mouthwatering, Steph, isn’t it?’ Annette drooled. ‘And just look at this!’ She held up the garment so that Stephanie could see the delicate lacy panels that comprised the top of the camiknicker. ‘Go and try it on,’ she urged. ‘Take the suit with you to make sure the back’s low enough.’ The suit was produced for the saleslady’s inspection, who agreed that the stock of low-backed bras they had in would not be low enough to wear under it, and, as Stephanie walked past her, Annette murmured wickedly, ‘You’re going to cause quite a stir the next time you go to an official dinner with your boss. I can’t see much business getting done—the men will be too busy wondering whether you are or aren’t and if you, are, what—it would send their temperatures rocketing if they ever found out,’ she added mischievously.

The camiknickers fitted perfectly, the delicate lace cups moulding the full curves of her breasts so that her skin glowed mother of pearl through them, her nipples a deep rosy pink. The sensation of the lace and satin so close to her skin was infinitely disturbing. The garment was far too erotic for her simple tastes, Stephanie decided, but it did fit very neatly and discreetly beneath her new suit, and, in the end, she allowed Annette to badger her into buying it.

On the way home, Annette oozed self-satisfaction. ‘I’ve been dying to get you out of all those dull correct clothes you favour for months,’ she admitted cheerfully, as they prepared their evening meal, ‘and those camiknickers!’ She rolled her eyes and grinned. ‘Personally, I’ve always been something of an underwear freak—nothing gaudy, or openly sexy; it’s just that I adore the sensation of silks and satins next to my skin. It makes me feel good, and yet rather naughty at the same time, if you know what I mean. It’s my only extravagance that Roger approves of.’ She spluttered with laughter when she saw Stephanie’s expression, shaking her head a little over her reserve, and Stephanie wondered a little bleakly if Susy Waldron wore silks and satins next to her skin and if Jake enjoyed touching them before he touched her.

It was alarming and extremely disturbing to find she had come so far down a road she hadn’t even been aware of setting out on. Somehow her life had taken an unexpected turning, and she wasn’t sure yet herself just what it was leading to; all she did know was that she feared the changes heralded, and that if she could she would have gone back to the security of a friendship with Jake which had no overtones of sexuality. How had they come to be there in the first place? It was a question she just couldn’t answer.

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_bad24daf-c765-5c77-aebe-a87ba54e18fb)

WHEN Stephanie went back to work on Monday morning she admitted to a butterfly feeling of trepidation. All weekend she had kept remembering the scene at Jake’s apartment—the way he had spoken to her. And the way he had kissed her, she forced herself to acknowledge.

A quick flick through her diary—an almost automatic first-thing job once she had taken off her coat—showed her that Jake had an early dental appointment. She grimaced faintly as she checked through the mail, sorting it into neat piles. Jake hated visiting the dentist, and his mood was likely to be none too good when he did arrive.

She had dealt efficiently with what she could of the post, dealt with several phone calls, including one from a would-be house seller who wanted Jake to go round to value what sounded to be an extremely promising Thames-side property, and was sitting neatly in front of her typewriter, sipping a cup of coffee, when Jake finally arrived. One side of his jaw was faintly swollen, his eyes a dark and threateningly stormy grey. He flung down his Burberry with a lack of his normal precision, his frown deepening as his glance swept over Stephanie’s calm face and neatly clad body.

What was he looking for, she wondered, hanging grimly on to the calm smile she had been practising all weekend as his scrutiny raked her, as potentially dangerous as a sharply honed razor. Even allowing for the dental visit, there was something about him this morning that sparked warning signals in her own defence system. She had been right to dread this meeting. Subtly, unbearably to her mind, and possibly irretrievably, things had changed between them.

‘Messages?’ Jake flung the demand at her as he walked through into his own office. Normally, his abrupt manner didn’t bother her but, for some reason, this morning she found herself flushing angrily, not so much at the curtness of his voice but at the way his eyes lingered for that extra half a second on the soft swell of her breasts before he strode past her. Never once in the past had Jake ever, by so much as a glance, indicated any sexual awareness of her, but this morning… The buzzer on her desk distracted her and she picked up the phone.

The buzz had signalled that it was an internal call and, as she listened to one of the other partners requesting an urgent meeting with Jake, Stephanie tred to dismiss from her mind her turbulent feelings.