Mr. Loverman

Totally unable to explain to herself, let alone to anyone else, why she should have agreed to such an emotionally insane invitation, it seemed to Laura as if she spent the rest of the day in a completely mindless daze.

Their hotel, on a tiny atoll fringed by totally deserted white sandy beaches and overlooking the crystal-clear waters of a dark blue lagoon, was far more breathtakingly beautiful than she could have ever imagined. However, she was aware only of the tall, dark man who had dominated her dreams for so long. Drowning helplessly in the gleaming depths of his slate-grey eyes as they dined alone on the candlelit terrace of the hotel, of which they appeared to be the only guests, she allowed herself to be led, like a sleepwalker, to the door of his room overlooking the lagoon.

‘It’s not too late to change your mind, Laura, if you think this isn’t a good idea,’ he said softly.

She gave a bemused shake of her head. ‘No, I...er...I think I know what I’m doing...’ she murmured, totally caught up in the magic of the moment.

‘I’m glad someone has their feet on the ground, because I certainly haven’t,’ he muttered thickly under his breath, drawing her into his room and kicking the door closed behind them. ‘God knows, I’ve tried to be sensible—but I simply can’t seem to help myself.’

‘I don’t understand...’ she whispered helplessly as he drew her close to his tall, rangy figure.

‘Surely you must have guessed that I’ve been absolutely crazy about you for the past year?’ The thick, husky tone of his low voice seemed to echo in her ears. ‘I’ll never know how I’ve managed to keep my hands off you for so long...’ he breathed as his arms closed tightly about her slim frame, his mouth possessing her lips in a kiss of passionate intensity.

With her mind and body seized by a raging tide of sexual excitement and desire, she ardently welcomed the fierce, determined possession by his lips and body. Beside the clamouring demand of their mutual desire, all sense of caution or moral precepts seemed totally unimportant and unreal.

Throughout that long night, it seemed to Laura as if she’d become completely lost to all sense of time and place. She was only aware of a compulsive need to respond to the soft, long, sweeping caress of his fingers, purring and glowing with rapture as she unashamedly offered her nude body to his eyes and hands, her own senses delighting in the firm texture of his flesh and the hard muscles of the arms fiercely pulling her towards him.

Beneath the mastery of his touch, it seemed as though she had become a wanton creature, her nostrils savouring his musky, masculine scent, her lips tasting the salty fragrance of his skin, until overwhelming desire yet again claimed them both, a frenzied need not merely to be possessed, but to be totally consumed and fulfilled, the intensity of their lovemaking causing her to cry out loud with joy and overwhelming happiness.

Now, as she looked back on those two, brief days which they’d spent together, scarcely leaving the small cottage at their hotel—other than to wander hand in hand into the calm blue waters of the lagoon, or stroll along the fine, powdery white sand of deserted beaches—Laura found herself wondering if, in reality, it had all been a dream. With her being so madly in love with Jack, maybe her over-fertile imagination really had, somehow, conjured up that blissful, halcyon time of enchantment and rapture.

Because it was the only explanation which appeared to make any sense of what had happened less than twenty-four hours after her return to London. Even now, over three weeks later, she could still almost feel her skin crawling with the humiliation of Jack’s cool, ruthless rejection—a crushing blow from which she was finding it well-nigh impossible to recover.

Slipping on a bathrobe and winding a towel about her damp hair, she wandered disconsolately out of the bathroom, deciding to drown her sorrows in a cool drink. But, just as she was making her way to the kitchen, she heard a ring on the doorbell.

Grumbling under her breath at the repeated, loud buzz of the bell, Laura tightened the belt of her towelling gown and went to open the door.

‘What...what on earth are you doing here?’ she gasped, suddenly feeling quite sick as she gazed through the few inches of open door, which still had its chain firmly in place.

‘To see you, of course,’ Jack retorted, his lips tightening as the pale-faced girl continued to stare at him with shocked, glazed eyes. ‘Come on, Laura,’ he added with ill-concealed impatience. ‘Undo the chain and let me in.’

After a moment’s hesitation, she gave a helpless shrug and did as he asked, stepping back in silence and allowing him to walk past her into the apartment.

‘I still can’t think what you’re doing here,’ she muttered, finding her voice at last as she reluctantly followed him into the sitting room. ‘In fact, you’re just about the last person I expected to see.’

‘I’ve been in the United States for the past few weeks. In fact, I’ve come here straight from the airport,’ he said, brushing a tired hand through his thick, dark hair. ‘As I suspected when we were in Tahiti, it now looks as if the film’s financial problems have just about scuppered Mutiny on the Bounty.’

‘So, what else is new?’ she retorted caustically. ‘Anyone with half an eye could see that the film was going to be a Grade A flop.’

He shrugged. ‘Flop or not, I had to make sure that the financial backers honoured Craig’s contract. However, the time I spent in America wasn’t entirely wasted, because I’ve now decided to open an office in New York.’

‘Yes, well, I’m sure that’s all very interesting,’ she snapped, nervously tightening the belt of her robe and deeply resenting the way his tall figure, formally elegant in a dark suit, seemed to dominate even the large sitting room.

‘However, just in case you’ve forgotten,’ she continued grimly, ‘you sacked me some three weeks ago. So your current business plans have absolutely nothing to do with me. Right?’

‘Wrong,’ he retorted curtly, before giving an impatient sigh at the cold, stony expression on her face. ‘Relax—I haven’t come here to quarrel with you, Laura. So why don’t you come down off your high horse and give me a cup of coffee?’

‘A cup of coffee?’ she echoed blankly, completely astounded by the sheer nerve of the awful man. Did he really imagine that he could just casually swan back into her life, as if nothing had happened?

‘I’m feeling so jet-lagged that either coffee, tea or a stiff drink would be equally welcome,’ he explained with a weary shrug of his broad shoulders.

‘Quite frankly, Jack,’ she retorted grimly, ‘the only thing I feel like giving you is a very hard thump on the nose!’

He gave a short bark of wry laughter. ‘That’s what I love about you, darling—you’re all heart!’ he murmured, his lips curving into such a warm, infectious grin that her pulse seemed to miss a beat and she felt quite dizzy for a moment. ‘However, I would be grateful if you’d put that thump on hold for a while—because not only am I practically dying of thirst, but we obviously need to have a long talk.’

Five minutes later, and furious with herself for being so weak and feeble, Laura was swearing grimly under her breath as she removed two wineglasses from a kitchen cupboard, before moving over to explore the contents of the fridge.

What on earth was wrong with her? Why was she in here, meekly getting the beastly man his cold drink, when she should have given him a hefty kick in the shins and told him to get lost? Because she was spineless—that was why! she told herself glumly.

And what about all that good advice which she’d been giving herself over the past three weeks, and which now seemed to have been a complete waste of time? If all it took to reduce her stomach to rubble was a charming smile and a disturbing gleam in the slate-grey, heavy-lidded eyes of her ex-employer—currently making himself comfortable in her sitting room—it looked as if she was in deep, deep trouble.

On the other hand...tossing Jack out on his ear wasn’t really a viable course of action, she consoled herself miserably. For one thing, he was far taller and heavier than she was. And, if she was really honest, she didn’t entirely loathe the idea of what he’d referred to as ‘a long talk’. Especially as she intended to do all the talking! I’ll tell him his fortune, she promised herself grimly. By the time I’ve finished with that Casanova, he’ll definitely wish that he’d stayed celibate all his life!

‘I’m afraid the cupboard is rather bare at the moment. All I could find in the fridge was a bottle of white wine,’ she told him, carrying a tray through into the sitting room.

‘That’s fine,’ he murmured, rising from the long, comfortable sofa to take the glass from her hand. ‘I didn’t realise that you had such a glamorous apartment,’ he added, gazing up at the high lofty ceilings and the enormous windows draped in yards of billowing white muslin, through which could be seen a panoramic view of the rooftops of Soho. ‘Have you been here for some time?’

‘Unfortunately, no—and I won’t be able to remain here for much longer, either.’

‘Why ever not?’

‘Because the rat for whom I used to work threw me out of my job,’ she told him bitterly. ‘And, since the said rat has also failed to honour his promise of a handsome settlement, I now can’t afford to keep up the mortgage payments. All of which means that this apartment will be up for sale probably as of next week. However,’ she added caustically, ‘since you seem to like it so much, maybe you’d like to buy it for yourself?’

‘Oh, God—I’m sorry.’ He grimaced, brushing a hand roughly through his dark hair. ‘I’ve been so busy that I completely forgot...However, I promise to see that you get a large cheque first thing in the morning.’

She shrugged her slim shoulders. ‘That’s nice, but it doesn’t alter the fact that without a job I’ve got no real hope of being able to stay here. Have you got an answer to that small problem as well?’

‘Yes, as it happens, I think I have,’ he drawled. ‘But, before we get around to discussing the position I have in mind, we need to have a cool, calm and sensible discussion about what has happened in the past. However, that doesn’t seem likely at the moment,’ he added drily, his eyes glinting with amusement. ‘Not if you’re going to remain standing on the other side of the room, bearing a strong resemblance to Joan of Arc at the stake!’

‘At least Joan had got her priorities straight,’ Laura lashed back angrily. ‘She knew a slimy Englishman when she saw one!’

‘Why don’t you come and sit down over here and give me a chance to set the record straight?’ he drawled smoothly, clearly refusing to be provoked into a quarrel. ‘Surely it ought to be possible for the two of us to try to act like adult human beings?’

It all sounded very reasonable, but Laura wasn’t fooled by his mild, smooth tone of voice. Not for one minute! If that ruthless operator Jack Wilder thought that he was going to be able to sweet-talk her into putting up with any more of his nonsense, he definitely had another think coming! And it was no good him flashing that engagingly warm, oh, so charming smile in her direction, either. The man was nothing but a two-timing, heartless swine, and she certainly had no intention of forgetting that fact.

Still...well, he had briefly mentioned that he might have a position in mind for her. It was awful to be so mercenary, of course, but with her finances in such dire straits maybe she ought to at least listen to what he had to say?

‘OK,’ she sighed. ‘I’ll give you the opportunity to set the record straight. But you’ll have to cool your heels for a moment while I remove this wet towel from my head.’

Escaping to the sanctuary of her bedroom, and firmly closing the door behind her, Laura knew that she really didn’t have enough time to change out of her towelling robe. And she certainly had no intention of letting Jack think that she was prepared to make an effort just for his sake. All the same, she’d have to do something, she realised as she gazed at her reflection in the mirror, wincing with dismay at the sight of her pale, chalky-white face and bedraggled, wet auburn hair.

However, there was no law that said she couldn’t put on some make-up. And, in fact, now she came to think about it, the American Indians had been absolutely right. Because, when going into battle, a girl definitely needed some war paint, she told herself grimly, swiftly applying colour to her cheeks and trying to control the slim lipstick in her nervous, shaking hand as she brushed a soft pink over her trembling lips.

Well, you certainly look a whole lot better. Maybe you can manage to fool him, if not yourself, Laura silently told her reflection in the dressing-table mirror, only too conscious, as she straightened her gown and tightened the belt, that Jack’s sheer, physical presence was having an alarming effect on her emotions.

Why couldn’t he just go away and leave her alone? It hadn’t been easy, but she’d managed to survive the past three weeks. Mainly buoyed up by her anger and resentment, of course. But at least that had been better than nothing. But now Jack had suddenly materialised—like the wicked demon in a pantomime, trailing green smoke and casting his wicked spell over her once again—and he was obviously quite confident of persuading her that, despite his rotten behaviour, he was really a wonderful human being after all.

Relax! All you have to do is to hear him out—and then show him the door, she mouthed silently at herself in the mirror. Unfortunately, the green eyes gazing back at her were not half as confident as her words. They clearly had severe doubts and dire misgivings about her ability to cope with such an upsetting, emotionally fraught situation.

CHAPTER THREE

DESPITE summoning up all the courage at her command, Laura was still miserably aware of a sick, nervous lump in her stomach as she forced herself to return to the sitting room. Thus, after resolutely bracing herself to face an emotional confrontation, it was maddening to discover the long-legged figure of her ex-employer now lying flat out on her cream leather sofa—fast asleep.

He certainly believed in making himself comfortable, she thought sourly, noting that he’d thrown his jacket and tie onto one chair and his briefcase onto another. She’d spent all day cleaning and polishing up her apartment, and yet, less than half an hour after his arrival, the place was already looking a mess!

Jet lag or no jet lag, there was no way she was going to put up with any of his nonsense, Laura told herself grimly, ruthlessly crushing her first instinctive feelings of concern as she stood at the end of the couch, viewing the lines of exhaustion and fatigue etched on Jack’s tanned features. She didn’t need reminding that a leopard never changes his spots. So it was a complete waste of time feeling sorry for the rotten man.

He might have had a long, tiring flight, but, since he regularly flew back and forth across the Atlantic, there were no prizes for guessing that he’d also been out on the town in New York last night with one of his many glamorous girlfriends. Well, good luck to her—because she’d soon find out that she was merely one in a long, long line of completely bamboozled, foolish women.

‘You’re looking a bit grim.’

Jack’s deep voice cut through her distracted thoughts like a dash of icy cold water. Staring down at his supine figure, she noticed that, despite his lazily yawning and stretching his tall frame, the grey eyes regarding her from beneath their heavy lids were glinting with a sharpness and clarity which did absolutely nothing for her peace of mind.

‘Well, how do you expect me to look? My present life isn’t exactly a bed of roses, you know,’ she retorted bluntly.

‘Yes, I’m sorry that I’ve caused you so much trouble and worry.’ He frowned. ‘I had no idea...’

‘OK, OK, we’ve already been over that aspect of my current problems.’ She waved her hand dismissively in the air, well aware that her present situation was partly her own fault. Laura knew that if she’d had any sense she would have been more prudent, carefully saving part of her large salary for just such a rainy day. However, that wasn’t something she was prepared to admit publicly—and certainly not to her ex-employer, now lying at his ease on the pale leather couch and looking as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

‘Quite frankly, I’m not interested in listening to any of your usual hearts and flowers nonsense,’ she continued bleakly. ‘So can we please get down to the nitty-gritty of exactly what you’re doing in my apartment?’

Jack’s lips had tightened ominously at her caustic reference to his well-known charm and lifestyle. But it was only a moment or two before he clearly had himself well under control once again.

‘I’ve already told you to relax, sweetheart,’ he drawled, deciding to ignore the obvious rage and fury of the girl now standing at the end of the sofa with her hands on her hips and glaring down at him with such stormy green eyes. In his experience, women definitely did not want to be told that they looked far more beautiful when they were angry. So, for the moment, perhaps it would be as well to tread carefully, and concentrate on resolving some of their problems?

‘I came here today to see you,’ he continued, ‘with the sole purpose of bringing you tidings of comfort and joy.’

She gave a snort of cynical disbelief. ‘That’ll be the day!’

‘“O ye of little faith”!’ he murmured, his lips curving into a broad grin of sardonic amusement.

Maybe it was that arrogant, supremely confident smile that finally pushed her over the edge? Mulling over the unfortunate episode later, Laura would realise that losing her temper with the awful man had not been a good idea. But, suddenly consumed with blind rage at his damned condescension—and the fact that he seemed to be using her home to recover from a night out on the tiles!—she hadn’t given a thought to the consequences.

‘Don’t you dare quote the Bible at me, you...you two-timing Casanova!’ she stormed. ‘And my apartment is definitely not a rest-home for tired old theatrical agents,’ she added furiously, bending down to push his feet off the sofa:

The next few seconds seemed to whiz by in a blur. One moment she was leaning down over the arm of the couch, and then—in what seemed like the twinkling of an eye—she found herself being pulled roughly forward, almost flying through the air, before finding herself lying sprawled on top of Jack’s long, hard body.

‘For heaven’s sake!’ she gasped, lying winded and dazed for a moment. Then panic set in as she felt his arms closing about her. ‘What...what on earth do you think you’re doing?’

‘I don’t like being referred to as either “old” or “tired”. Nor do I care to be shouted at by hoity-toity females!’ he drawled with silky menace, although there was a faint smile on the face only inches away from her own.

‘I can’t think why you’ve suddenly become so choosy. Everyone knows you just love chatting up your difficult female clients,’ she retorted breathlessly, frantically trying to wriggle free from the arms now ominously tightening about her like bands of steel.

‘Ah, but you’re talking about work. While this...’ he gave a low, sensual laugh ‘...this definitely comes under the heading of play!’

‘Not for me, it doesn’t!’ she panted, furious at finding herself so firmly trapped in his embrace and desperately trying to ignore the effect that his hard, muscular body was having on her own, trembling figure.

Jack raised his head, the piercing grey eyes studying her flushed features for a brief moment. ‘Liar!’ he taunted, his broad shoulders shaking with wry amusement as he leaned back on the cushions once more.

‘OK, Jack—you’ve made your point. Now, please let me go!’ she begged huskily.

‘No...no, I don’t think so. I’m rather enjoying myself at the moment,’ he murmured softly. ‘On the other hand, I can’t help thinking that we’d both be more comfortable if our positions were reversed.’

‘No!’ she shrieked. But he was already putting his words into action. A second later, she found herself lying on her back, trapped against the rear of the sofa on one side, with Jack’s broad-shouldered figure firmly blocking her escape on the other.

‘I’m not putting up with this sort of nonsense!’ she declared breathlessly as she struggled to sit up, grimly tugging at part of her long robe which had become caught beneath his body. ‘Let me go!’

‘Not just at the moment...’ he murmured, leaning forward to trap her beneath him, raising his hand to brush a stray lock of hair from her face before tucking it gently behind her ear.

‘Are you deaf? I said that I want you to let me go,’ she hissed, doing her best to ignore the swirling mass of emotions racing through her veins at his soft touch.

Completely ignoring her protests, he slowly and deliberately wound his fingers through her damp hair. ‘The past few weeks have been hell without you, Laura,’ he muttered. ‘I hadn’t realised just how much I need you by my side.’

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