A Man Without Mercy

‘And you forgot to mention why, after you made good, you still didn’t have time for marriage and children. Let’s face it, Jack, you’ve been at the top of the building ladder for some time now.’

‘True. But getting there was a hard slog. Then there was the responsibility of looking after my two younger sisters and my mother. My mother in particular. Mum’s not the strongest woman, emotionally. After my dad died, she totally fell apart. Even now, she has a tendency to fall into a depression at the drop of a hat. Some people are like that, you know. It’s hard on them and hard on the people who love them and care about them.’

‘Yes,’ Vivienne said with more empathy than he could possibly realise. ‘I’m sure it is.’

‘It’s a difficult situation to understand unless you live it,’ he said, assuming—mistakenly—that she wasn’t personally acquainted with such problems. ‘Anyway, like I said, by the time I was making serious money I just didn’t want to take on any further commitments or responsibilities. I still don’t. I... Hell, Vivienne,’ he broke off suddenly, his blue eyes startled. ‘Why on earth am I telling you all this?’

Vivienne rolled her eyes. Truly, anyone would think he’d committed a crime by unburdening his soul a bit. At least he had one. Unlike some people!

‘For pity’s sake, Jack,’ she said, a little more sharply than she intended. ‘Don’t go all “macho male” on me. There’s no harm in expressing your feelings occasionally. Women do it all the time. You should hear Marion and me when we have a girls’ night out. If you must know, I think it’s sweet the way you’ve looked after your family, especially your mother. As for your not wanting marriage and children... Well, there’s nothing wrong with that either. You have the right to live your life as you see fit. I was just curious. After all, you’re quite a catch. I dare say you’ve had loads of women running after you over the years.’

‘I’ve had my moments of being targeted.’ He opened his mouth to say something more then shut it again. Vivienne was wondering what he’d been about to say when their meals arrived—his and hers lobsters, along with French fries and side salads.

‘Oh my God,’ she said with a groan as she salivated over the food. ‘I didn’t realise till this very moment just how hungry I was.’

‘You and me both. Come on, let’s stop with the chit-chat and tuck in.’

Tuck in they did, all conversation ceasing as they went about the all-consuming task of totally stuffing their faces. Vivienne gave the occasional satisfied sigh whilst Jack did nothing but crunch and munch. It wasn’t until there wasn’t a morsel of succulent flesh left on her lobster that Vivienne lifted her head, only to find that Jack had just finished his lobster as well and was licking his fingertips with relish.

No, not licking. Sucking.

‘That was seriously good,’ he said between somewhat noisy sucks.

Vivienne didn’t say a word. Because she was staring at what Jack was doing and having the most inappropriate thoughts about his fingers. His amazingly long, thick fingers...

When a decidedly kinky fantasy involving herself and Jack filled her head, Vivienne sat up straight, pressing her spine hard against the back of the chair. She was totally rattled, not just by the erotic nature of her thoughts, but by the way her muscles had tightened deep inside her, as though in anticipation of being invaded by Jack’s fingers. She took several deep, calming breaths whilst she struggled to make sense of her behaviour. This was the second time that day that Jack had somehow turned her on. Not consciously, of course. Or deliberately. He would have no idea what mad thoughts he’d been evoking, first about his having a mistress stashed away somewhere, and now about his doing seriously intimate things to her with his fingers.

She wondered dazedly if her focus on things sexual had something to do with Daryl leaving her. Vivienne had been plagued over the past month by thoughts that she hadn’t satisfied him in bed, despite his always having said that she did. She’d wondered, during her think-fest in the bath, if Courtney Ellison did kinky things to Daryl that he’d always secretly craved, and which he now couldn’t live without. Maybe her own weird behaviour today was a rebound or a revenge thing, a crazy desire to prove to herself that she could be as wildly sexual as any woman.

Whatever, Vivienne could not deny that she was turned on at this moment. If only Jack would stop sucking those damned fingers!

She turned her eyes away, then did what she always did when life threatened to overwhelm her: she concentrated on work.

‘So, Jack,’ she said, looking back at him with her business face on. ‘Tell me exactly what the terms of my employment will be.’

Jack frowned as he picked up his white linen serviette and wiped his fingertips.

‘I can’t really give you specifics yet,’ he said. ‘Not till I see the place again. If you come with me tomorrow, you can inspect Francesco’s Folly for yourself and tell me how long you think the job will take to complete. I always prefer to pay designers a lump sum rather than so much per hour. At the same time, given you would be doing me a special favour by taking this job, I am prepared to be generous.’

Vivienne’s eyebrows lifted. Jack Stone was not known for his generosity. He was a fair businessman, but tough.

‘How generous?’ she asked.

‘Very generous.’

‘But why? I’m sure you could get any number of up-and-coming young designers to do the job for next to nothing. It would be a feather in their cap.’

‘But I don’t want any other up-and-coming designer, Vivienne. I want you.’

CHAPTER FIVE

WHEN JACK SAID he wanted Vivienne, he’d meant it as a strictly professional statement, the same one he’d made to Nigel earlier that day.

But as he looked deep into her gorgeous green eyes—eyes which had widened slightly at his words—the thought hit Jack that he didn’t want Vivienne just professionally, but physically as well.

It was a stunning realisation, one which left Jack speechless. After all, not until today had he seriously fancied Vivienne. Okay, so he’d been aware of her good looks, and had occasionally given her a second glance as she’d walked by.

But she’d never given him a hard-on. Not once.

Yet she’d already done that twice today. Once, when he’d seen her naked in the bath, and right now, here, in this restaurant.

It was this second unexpected erection which totally threw him, because there was nothing happening which should have stirred lust in him: no nakedness; no flirtation. Hell, they were just discussing business.

But lust was very much in control of Jack’s body at that moment. And his mind. Effortlessly, it stripped Vivienne of her clothes until she was naked before him, the mental image of her sitting there in the nude bringing his arousal to an almost painful level.

God in heaven, he thought frustratedly, what on earth am I going to do now?

Absolutely nothing, he decided ruefully. Because there was nothing he could do. To make a play for Vivienne in her present emotionally charged and highly vulnerable state was both unconscionable and extremely unlikely to be productive.

But what of later? he wondered. The job he’d asked her to do would take weeks. No, probably months. Could he wait that long before making his move? Probably not, if the bulge in his jeans was anything to go by. Hopefully, it wasn’t Vivienne herself sparking all this urgent desire, but his long stint of celibacy.

‘But why do you want me?’ Vivienne persisted.

Jack hoped his face didn’t betray the thoughts which immediately ran through his head. Because they had nothing to do with work.

‘Why? Because you’re seriously good,’ he replied, all the while wishing that she wasn’t. At this moment, he wished she were seriously bad. The Courtney Ellison type of bad. If that were the case, the possibilities were endless.

The waiter arrived fortuitously at that moment, sweeping away their plates and asking them if they wanted dessert. Vivienne declined. So did Jack, briskly ordering them coffee instead. By the time they were alone again, he’d managed to stop the X-rated images bombarding his brain, his conscience castigating him at the same time for reducing a nice girl like Vivienne to little more than a sex object.

Vivienne was seriously glad that the waiter arrived when he did, stopping her from making a fool of herself by asking more stupid questions as to why Jack wanted her specifically for the job. What had she been expecting him to say, for pity’s sake? She already knew that he liked her work. He’d said so on many occasions. Had she been looking for more praise? More ego-stroking? Or something else—something which she hardly dared admit, even to herself...

When another embarrassing wave of sexual heat started flowing through Vivienne’s body, she stood up so abruptly that her chair almost tipped over backwards. She grabbed it just in time, throwing Jack a weak smile as she excused herself and headed for the rest room.

It was a flushed and confused Vivienne who leant on the washstand and stared into the wall mirror above the twin basins. Lord, what was happening to her here? First, she’d entertained kinky fantasies involving Jack’s fingers, then she’d started hoping he’d say he wanted her and her only for the job because he wanted her. Which was even crazier, considering any female with a brain in her head knew when a man fancied her. And Jack didn’t. Never had. The same way she’d never fancied him. Until today, that was. Suddenly, she seemed to be finding him extremely attractive. No, not just attractive—sexy. Dead sexy.

The logical part of Vivienne’s mind told her this definitely had something to do with Daryl leaving her. His desertion had unhinged her and she’d become desperate. Desperate for someone, if not to love her, than at least to want her. Women sometimes did stupid things after being dumped. A girlfriend of hers had once cut her hair very short and bleached it white. Another had gone out and had a boob job. A third had slept with a different man every night for a month. You didn’t reach the age of twenty-seven without having witnessed a few of your female friends lose the plot over men.

Vivienne had no intention of cutting her hair. Or of going blonde. Or having a boob job. Neither was she about to cruise bars every night in search of one-night stands. But she was awfully tempted—awfully, awfully tempted—to try to make Jack Stone want her for more than redecorating Francesco’s Folly. She wanted him to look at her with fire in those hard blue eyes of his. Wanted him to want her so badly that he’d stop at nothing to have her.

Vivienne shook her head, her shoulders slumping. Who was she kidding? None of that was ever going to happen. She wasn’t the kind of girl who could turn a man’s head against his will. She wasn’t a flirt, let alone a femme fatale. Before Daryl, she’d had less than a handful of lovers. She was, if truth be told, on the shy side when it came to bedroom matters. Daryl had been the one to pursue her, to seduce her, to make her fall in love with him.

Vivienne frowned at this last thought. Was that true? Had Daryl somehow made her fall in love with him? How odd that sounded, as though she hadn’t had any choice. If there was one thing Vivienne was proud of, it was her ability to make choices in life. To decide. That was what she’d been doing in the bath today—deciding what to do with the rest of her life. Not that she’d come to any solid conclusion in the matter. She’d still been too upset to think rationally. In the end, she’d just lain back in the warm water and listened to music, unaware of time passing and the water cooling.

Jack breaking down the door had shocked the life out of her, not to mention seriously embarrassed her. She hadn’t enjoyed his getting an eyeful of her bare breasts. An exhibitionist, she was not! Which made her subsequent sexual responses to him even harder to fathom. None of it made any sense at all!

When another woman came into the rest room Vivienne scurried into one of the cubicles where, with a bit of luck, she could sit and think in peace. She hated not being able to think clearly.

So what are you going to do about this job offer from Jack, Vivienne? came that stern voice that would pop up in her head on the rare occasions she began to waffle over something. You don’t have to do it. He can’t force you. Come on, girl, make a decision!