Desire And Deception

Before she left, she wandered over to look at her aunt’s painting.

‘Hey,’ she said, surprise in her voice. ‘That’s rather good. You must be improving, Auntie.’

‘Either that, or your taste is,’ Ava countered with uncharacteristic wit. She and her niece exchanged startled glances.

‘Goodness, Auntie,’ Jade laughed. ‘That was quick.’

‘Yes, it was, wasn’t it?’

Jade gave her a considering look. ‘You seem happier, do you know that?’

‘You could be right. The whole house has been happier since Gemma came to live here.’

‘God, not that girl again! I’ll have to meet this paragon of perfection soon or I’ll explode with envy and irritation!’

Now Ava laughed. ‘She’ll have you eating out of her hand in no time, just as she has everyone else.’

‘I wouldn’t bet on that if I were you, Auntie.’ And, thinking darkly jealous thoughts, Jade marched from the room.

* * *

Gemma propped herself up on one elbow and looked down at the naked man sleeping beside her. He was so beautiful.

Her eyes caressed his perfect profile, his gorgeous golden hair, tousled at the moment, and that glorious mouth, full-lipped and sensual but not at all feminine. There wasn’t a feminine bone in Nathan Whitmore’s beautiful bronzed body.

Hard to believe he was thirty-five.

Hard to believe that less than an hour ago she had been a fear-filled, quivering virgin.

Hard to believe he wanted to marry her, a silly little country girl not yet twenty. She couldn’t believe her luck.

‘You’re making me self-conscious, staring at me like that,’ he murmured, his left eye flicking half open.

‘Oh! I...I thought you’d fallen asleep.’

‘Just resting,’ he whispered, and reached for her.

Gemma gave herself up momentarily to the excitement of his kisses, but as soon as he lifted his mouth to take a breath, she wriggled out of his arms and away from further temptation.

‘We have to stop, Nathan,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Kirsty might come back from the beach at any moment. She’s been gone over an hour. It’s nearly three.’

It was only by chance that Gemma wasn’t down at the beach with Kirsty. But she hadn’t liked the sea; hadn’t liked it at all.

‘Kirsty never leaves the beach till the sun goes down,’ Nathan reassured her. ‘Still, it’s possible, I suppose, and I wouldn’t want her to catch us together like this.’ He trickled a hand over Gemma’s breasts, smiling softly as an involuntary tremor rippled through her. ‘My own lovely little Gemma,’ he said, and bent to flick a moist fingertip over the nearest erect nipple. ‘Do you realise we’ll have all night together now that Kirsty’s going to that movie marathon?’

Gemma tried to dampen down her excitement at such a prospect to focus on Nathan’s daughter. ‘I’m not sure Lenore would be happy with Kirsty going to an all-night movie session, Nathan. She’s only fourteen, after all. Not only that, she’s supposed to be grounded for another week.’

At the mention of his ex-wife, Nathan scowled and rolled away, planting angry feet on the floor beside the bed. ‘I’ll make the decisions for my daughter while she’s under my roof. Lenore can go jump.’

Gemma was taken aback by Nathan’s burst of temper, so unlike his usual cool self. Her mind flashed to that kiss she’d witnessed between him and his ex-wife less than two weeks before, on the very first night she’d come to Belleview. It had been one of the main reasons she’d fought her attraction for Nathan, thinking he was still in love with Lenore. The passion of the last hour had deflected her mind away from any earlier doubts, but now the possibility that the man she loved still harboured strong feelings for the woman he’d been married to for twelve years raised its ugly head again.

‘She’s Kirsty’s mother,’ Gemma argued unhappily. ‘I think her feelings have to be considered.’

Nathan started pulling on his clothes, his actions jerky. ‘As if that selfish bitch has got any real feelings,’ he muttered.

Gemma stared at him. When Nathan saw her shocked expression he leant back over the bed to cup her chin and kiss her lightly on the mouth. ‘Not like you, my darling girl. You have more feeling in your little finger than Lenore has in her whole body.’

Then why were you kissing her less than two weeks ago as if you wanted to devour her? she was dying to ask. Instead, she said tremulously, ‘You do love me, don’t you, Nathan?’

‘Love you? I adore you.’ His mouth returned to hers, demanding and hungry. He groaned and pushed her back on the pillows.

‘Nathan, we can’t!’ she gasped.

‘There’s no such thing as can’t, Gemma,’ he growled. ‘Only won’t.’ He buried his face between her breasts, then slowly slid downwards.

‘You...you shouldn’t,’ she managed in a weak whisper, both embarrassed and fascinated by what he was now doing. For a while the embarrassment won, her face flaming, her hands fluttering helplessly by her sides. But then sheer physical pleasure triumphed over any shock or shame. Her fingers started grasping the sheets on either side of her, and her mind spun out into a void of endless delight.

CHAPTER THREE

JADE surveyed her reflection in the mirror with mischievous satisfaction. Melanie had come through with a navy linen suit that would have looked ghastly if Jade had worn the white silk blouse with the tie at the throat that went with it. Instead, she’d filled the deep V neckline with a lacy pink camisole rescued from the depths of Auntie Ava’s wardrobe. The dear old thing had also produced a pair of dainty pink sandals with outrageously high heels, a relic from her partying days.

Digging deep in her own drawers, Jade had come up with some pink multi-disc earrings which she’d adored as a teenager but which hadn’t seen the light of day since. Oddly enough, they looked very effective with her new short blonde hair.

The combination of the sedate and the saucy produced a highly tantalising whole, which hinted—as Melanie and Ava had suggested—but was still sexy at the same time. Of course, Jade couldn’t resist the naughty little added touches, such as painting her toenails a vibrant pink, then leaving off tights. She’d also turned over the waistband of the knee-length pleated skirt a couple of times so that the hem swirled mid-thigh when she turned around. She made a mental note to turn around often.

Only once during her dressing did Jade’s mind whip back to the distressing events of the previous evening. Melanie had lent her a bra—they were around the same size—but Jade found her bruised breasts too sore to tolerate the constriction. For a moment, as she was forced to face her physical damage, fear swept in again, but this was swiftly followed by a bitter fury. Being a quivering victim was not Jade’s style. She gritted her teeth and vowed she would not let some pervert damage her mind. He could damage her body—that would heal!—but not her mind. Her mind was her own. She refused to have it warped or twisted. If she did, she might end up like her mother. Now there was a warped and twisted mind if ever there was one!

So with her freshly shampooed and moussed hair teased to its maximum height on top of her head, and enough Spellbound perfume on to cast a thousand spells, Jade swanned downstairs and along to the formal drawing-room where Melanie said her father was having pre-dinner drinks with his guest. The grandfather clock in the hall donged seven-thirty as Jade passed. Dinner had been ordered for eight.

Both men were sitting down when she sashayed in, her father on the green velvet sofa that faced the fireplace, while Mr Cool occupied one of the overstuffed brocade armchairs that flanked the marble hearth. There were no guesses which one drew her attention first.

Hell, but he looked as lethally attractive sitting there, sipping his drink, as did the drink he was sipping. By the colour, it had to be straight Johnny Walker. Jade conceded she could have done with a stiff drink herself right at that moment, her courage in danger of failing her. What was it about this man that rattled her so—the fact that she fancied him so badly, or that he didn’t fancy her at all?

She resisted licking suddenly dry lips and kept moving into the room, her skirt swishing around her bare legs, her eyes still on Kyle Armstrong, waiting for—no, hoping for—a favourable reaction to her vastly changed appearance.

His eyes lifted as she approached, locking with hers. They remained perfectly steady, showing nothing in their coal-black depths that she could read. But he didn’t turn his eyes away and oddly she gained the impression he was challenging her, no, compelling her to keep looking at him. Suddenly she felt the power of his mental strength, and her knees almost went from under her. This most uncharacteristic weakness unnerved Jade, unnerved then annoyed her.

Gathering herself, she shot him a bold smile, hoping to ruffle his equilibrium as much as his gypsy-eyed stare had ruffled hers. But he didn’t smile back, merely lifted his drink to his lips again, keeping up his cool assessment of her over the rim.

Jade found her smile fading and an amazing blush heating her cheeks. Totally rattled now, she wrenched her eyes away from him to land on her frowning father, who couldn’t seem to make up his mind whether he liked how she looked or not. She appreciated his ambivalence, and found amusement in it, thank heavens. She needed something to break this awful tension that had been invading her since entering the room.

‘Good evening, Father, dear,’ she said, abandoning her usual address of Pops. ‘Kyle,’ she added, inclining her head their guest’s way without actually meeting his eyes.

Both said good evening back as she continued over to the rosewood drinks cabinet, where she mixed herself a triple Scotch and ginger ale, taking a deep swallow before returning to make the twosome a far from cosy threesome.

Her father clicked his tongue impatiently when he had to move his cane for her to sit down next to him. ‘Did you finish whatever it was you had to finish?’ she enquired casually, crossing her legs and tucking her ankles back toward the base of the sofa.

‘I think we tied up everything to our mutual satisfaction, wouldn’t you say, Kyle?’ Byron conceded, his reply not really telling her anything.