L ily’s car rolled to a stop on the crushed-shell driveway. She cut the engine and pulled her keys from the ignition. Seven twenty-five. She was running late. From the number of cars already parked in the large parking bay, very late. No doubt it would give Jack another reason to take a swipe at her. If her father hadn’t been so adamant about her not seeing anything of Jack she probably would have called with her apologies by now. In fact, torn between going and another night at home alone, she’d prevaricated for the better part of an hour about whether to come, then another hour about what to wear.
A gust of wind whipped around the side of the house and pulled wisps of hair from the pins she’d eventually struggled with in her decision to give everyone what they expected. Lily Fontaine, fashion model and socialite.
He said “dress casual.” So she did. For her. Her strategically torn jeans exposed a glimpse of tanned thighs. The low-slung waist brought attention to the bejewelled belly bar in her navel, while her impossibly high and dainty sandals and silky golden halter top screamed catwalk chic in foot-high letters. Her clothing was her armour and something told her she’d need every link of it tonight. She climbed out of the car and stiffened her spine as she walked toward the sweeping staircase leading to Jack’s front door. This side of the house was no less imposing than the beach frontage; the landscaping around the driveway and parking bay leading to the entrance enhanced the obvious wealth it had taken to create such an architectural dream.
Her heels echoed on the wooden stairs, heels she’d chosen for the advantage of the added height they’d bring to her five-foot-ten. Wearing these she’d almost be eye level with Jack—on a par. The front door swung open as she approached, just as another wickedly intentioned gust of wind plucked at her hair, loosening another strand to fall softly about her face.
Jack stood in the doorway. A sudden hunger painted stark on his features as she approached. His unblinking, burning scrutiny sent a cold bead of fear straight to her heart. Maybe she’d gone too far with her choice of clothing tonight. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out she wasn’t wearing a bra under the sensuously soft fabric of her top, and the dropped cowl neck swayed enough with her graceful movements to reveal the swell of her breasts with each step.
“You’re late.” His words were clipped.
“Yeah, sorry about that.” She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of an excuse. That would imply she cared about his opinion—and she didn’t, not anymore.
“Are you, Lily?”
“Am I what?”
“Sorry.”
She dipped her head, refusing to make eye contact or to acknowledge his question again.
“Come through.” He gestured her through the entrance and down a short passage that opened out into a spacious open-plan living area.
Lounge furniture was arranged in front of the windows in a way that offered every guest a view of the ocean. To the right a formal dining suite sat under a modern iron candelabra-style light fitting. Several people stood in small groups, both indoors and out on the deck. Their silhouettes lit by the sun, low in the sky and casting its gilding light across the calm ocean. A few people turned and stared at her before turning back to their group. Lily’s stomach clenched with nerves.
“This is nice,” she said, looking around the room and noticing the artwork on the walls.
“Its home,” Jack answered noncommittally.
He was right. It was a home. Lily’s experienced eye could just about put a price on every item there and while everything was perfect and in its place there was a genuine warmth about the room and the furnishings that made you feel as if you could flop down on one of the wide leather sofas in front of the cheery glass-fronted wood-burning stove, slip off your shoes and tuck your legs under you in absolute comfort.
“You live here on your own?” Darn it, why did she ask that? It’s not as if she cared.
“For now.”
Well, wasn’t he the master of brief conversation tonight, she thought with irritation. That was going to make things awkward. She’d only just arrived and already she felt like she’d done three rounds in an emotional boxing ring.
She allowed herself to be soothed by the soft song of an Italian tenor played discreetly in the background, the rich timbre of the soloist’s voice weaving around her senses. Jack lifted a bottle of champagne from the ice bucket on the table and filled a slender crystal flute with an experienced hand.
“Champagne?” he asked.
“Thank you.”
Lily assiduously avoided touching his fingers as he passed her the glass filled with the foaming golden liquid.
Jack watched as she took a sip of the wine, a little of the moisture leaving a glistening imprint on her lips. A small tremor shook her hand. She was nervous. Good. The movement of lifting her arm caused the gossamer-fine material of her top to shift again—movement he’d been aware of from the second he’d opened the front door to his house. From where he stood, to the side, he could almost see the lower curve of her breast.
Had that heart-shaped birthmark on the underside of her left breast faded at all in the past ten years? he wondered. Or was it still there, begging to be traced with his tongue? A surge of need coursed through him, sending a flood of desire to pool in his groin. Seducing her would certainly be no hardship. Convincing her, now there would be the challenge, and there was nothing in life that Jack loved more than a challenge.
He put a hand to her elbow and guided her through the bifold doors that led out onto the spacious deck. “Come and meet everyone. They’re looking forward to seeing you again.”
“I’ll just bet they are.”
Was that fear in her voice or just the cynicism she appeared to wear like a cloak around her slender shoulders these days? Probably more likely the former. Jack knew he should feel some sense of compassion for her but it was a commodity he was very short on when it came to the Fontaines. Charles Fontaine had destroyed his father, ruined his whole family, without a second thought. The man, and his daughter, would pay dearly.
He slid his arm around her lower back and guided her from one group to the other, the consummate host, and introduced her to the people she didn’t already know—reacquainting her with their old friends. Surprisingly it all went extremely well and she slotted into conversation with everyone with a minimum of awkwardness. There was the occasional slanted remark but Lily brushed them all off with a smile and a joke. Jack could begin to see why she’d been so popular in the party circuit overseas. She had a way with people that made them feel comfortable and made them laugh. But something about her laughter, the way she spoke, made him feel like she was putting on an act.
It was soon apparent that everyone there was treating them like a couple and it served his purpose to continue to nurture that misconception. Wherever Lily went, he was never far from her, until eventually she stayed at his side by choice. The simplicity with which it had happened suited him on many levels. Not least of which was that it was the most effective way to dim the avaricious gleam in the eyes of the single, and even some of the married, men there. If his plan was to succeed he’d have to make certain that Lily didn’t hook up with anyone else.
Much later in the night, and long after the last of the dinner leftovers and dishes had been cleared away, those who hadn’t had to dash home to relieve babysitters congregated down on the beach to toast marshmallows over a driftwood fire. Conversation lowered to gentle murmurs. One of the guys had brought his guitar and sat quietly strumming. If they could have turned back the clock ten years it couldn’t have been more idyllic. Except there was no way to turn back time and make things right. The only way to make things right was to take effective action, and that was something Jack excelled at.
“So what brings you back to Onemata, Lily?” a voice called through the flickering flames as they licked their way over the twisted logs.
Jack felt her stiffen at his side. What would she say? he wondered. Would she admit to being virtually broke? Being forced by necessity to come home with her tail between those enticingly long and slender legs of hers. Living, as she had, so prominently in the public eye hadn’t left much to the imagination. And as for any secrets? Well, it was amazing what people would disclose when given the right financial incentive. Yes, he knew her secrets. All of them. No general strategised a battle without sufficient intelligence beforehand. It had cost a small fortune but he was determined to keep the upper hand. He wouldn’t be the loser this time.
“I’d been unwell. I needed a break and, let’s face it, who wouldn’t come here to recuperate,” she answered with a small laugh.
“Nothing too serious I hope,” Jack said softly, turning his head slightly to speak to her and her alone. He knew exactly how serious it had been. Not life-threatening, but certainly enough to disrupt her career and to see her agent release her from their contract. She herself had managed to do the rest of the damage by hanging about with the wrong set, being seen in the right places but doing the wrong headline-seeking things. Her subsequent exposure had had the desired effect from Jack’s point of view. It had seen to the commencement of her fall from grace. It couldn’t have worked better if he’d planned it himself, and it had crossed his mind to do so. In the end, it had all come down to Lily. And she’d delivered in typical Lily style. She’d lived high and she’d fallen low. Now she was back.
She dipped her head, exposing the long graceful line of her neck. Tiny wisps of hair, almost like angel fluff, begged to be touched where they curled against her nape. Without thought, Jack did just that. Winding one of the whirls around his index finger, stroking its softness with his thumb. He felt, rather than saw, the goose bumps raise up on her skin.
“No, nothing too serious. Besides, I’m fine now.” Her voice stuttered slightly, as if she wasn’t quite sure—or instead, as if his touch had unsettled her about as much as it was unsettling him. “Actually, as surprised as you all seem to be to see me here, I was more surprised to see Jack.” Lily turned slightly to face him. “You were more driven to leave Onemata than I was. And here we are—most of us from high school—still here.”
The silence that descended upon the group was uncomfortable. All eyes turned to Jack. Abruptly he let go of the strand of hair.
Was she really that ill-informed that she didn’t know why he’d stayed? Why he hadn’t pursued his dream and left the town they’d both found stifling? Anger roiled deep in his gut. How could she not know about his father’s death, about her own father’s hand in what came after? Or was she applying her own special brand of torture in the way that only a Fontaine could? He would show her who was in charge. Before he could say anything, however, a clutch of his guests made their excuses and headed off. Once a few had gone, the rest soon followed until eventually it was only Lily and Jack left.
“Come on.” He rose to his feet in a shower of sand. “Let’s go for a walk.”
“I should be going to. It’s getting late.”
“It’s just a walk,” he coaxed.
Silently, Lily placed her hand in his and he enveloped her slender digits in his own much larger ones, pulling her to her feet. He hooked her against his body. Without those sexy ice picks on her feet she fit perfectly against his side. His body remembered hers as if it were only yesterday they’d been together instead of a decade ago.
The tide was out and the moon gleamed like a far-flung silver orb in the sky, sending glimmering light across the wet sand.
“Jack? Did I say something wrong back there?” Lily asked carefully. “I seem to have generated a mass exodus of your guests.”
“You really don’t know?” he answered, forcing himself to keep the anger from his tone of voice.
“Know what? Obviously I put my foot in it, judging by everyone’s reaction.”
Jack turned her in his arms so that her body lined up against his. “I had to stay. My father died.”
Her soft cry of distress pierced his chest. She really hadn’t known. He supposed that while she had been up in Auckland, getting ready to give away their child, a short piece in the national newspaper detailing a road fatality was insignificant. Rage boiled beneath the surface.
“I’m sorry, Jack. I had no idea. You must miss him very much.” She lifted her hand to stroke his cheek with the back of her fingers. His skin burned at her touch.
“We got through it.”
The words didn’t do justice to the pain his family had gone through, not only at the loss of their much loved father and husband, but the financial strain had been immense. Charles Fontaine had annihilated his father—both personally and professionally—and then, with his lies, he’d systematically removed every last defence the Dolan family had had to survive.
As the oldest of four kids, most of the responsibility had fallen on Jack’s twenty-year-old shoulders. It was a weight he’d willingly taken on, sure in the knowledge that one day providence would come full circle. That circle was just about complete.
“It must have been hell for you. All of you,” Lily commiserated, her voice soft, her breath a light caress against his throat.
“Hell would be a picnic by comparison.”
She had no idea. But she would. Very soon, she would.
It was time to put phase two of his plan into action. Let the seduction begin.
Jack pulled her more firmly against him, cradling her against his hips. He bent his head and took her lips with a kiss that sent a sizzling line of heat through his body. She tasted of smoky marshmallow and good wine, of the past and of forbidden love. He captured her lower lip and drew it softly between his, grazing it gently with his teeth. Her body melted against him and his deepening want for her grew hard and heavy. He swept his tongue across the lightly abraded surface of her lower lip and her mouth parted, giving him free entry into the soft recess beyond. Her tongue met his, taste for taste, probe for probe.
He fought to remind himself why he was doing this, to remain in total control, but his body reacted on a far baser level. It recognised the feel of her, the line of her frame as it pressed against his. The V of her groin as her heat burned through the clothing they wore and seeped into his skin as insidiously as his need for her had ruled his life before.
He slid one hand across the bare skin of her belly, his fingers tangling in the jewelled belly bar that had tormented him with its winking reminder of the softly rounded surface of her lightly tanned skin. He’d recognised her strategy in dressing the way she had from the minute she’d set foot through the front door, in the way she’d flirted and teased with his guests but remained aloof. “You can look but don’t touch” had been all but imprinted on her forehead. As if she was better than the rest of them.
All night his hands had itched to slide inside the deep cowl of the halter neckline and caress her breasts, to prise away the fabric and lower his lips to the crest. To take her nipple into his mouth and wait for her gasp of need—of her desire for him.
Following the path of his thoughts he did exactly that, his fingers questing inside her neckline. A rush of satisfaction bloomed in his mind as his fingertips found her nipple, already hard and pointed. He brushed the flat of his palm against the sensitive peak. She arched against his hand with a throaty sigh, pressing harder, seeking more.
Jack curved his free arm around her waist, supporting her as he lifted his face from hers and trailed a line of kisses down her throat, working inexorably to his intended target. Her hands clutched at his shoulders as she arched further back, giving him full access, offering herself to him in the moonlight.
Her skin, which had been gilded with the golden light of the fire only moments ago, now gleamed with the caress of the moon’s silver reflection. But instead of being cold, as the silver tint would have suggested, her skin was searingly hot. Hot and enticing and exuding a subtle fragrance—a blend of sweet and spicy perfume and the scent of pure Lily—that wound through his senses and deep into his heart.
When his lips closed over their prize he felt the shudder ripple through her body. He pulled with his tongue, drawing the tight bead further into his mouth, nibbling gently with his teeth until she finally released the gasp he recognised as her surrender. Her legs buckled slightly and he was forced to brace his legs further apart to support them both. The change in position put his aching arousal directly at her core. He flexed his hips against her, then laved his tongue across her nipple again and again before tracing a line under the curve of her breast where he knew she was incredibly sensitive.
Lily’s hands left his shoulders and he felt her working at the knot that bound her halter top at the nape of her neck. Suddenly, with a sultry slither of cloth, both her breasts were bared to his sensual assault.
He didn’t aim to disappoint her silent plea. He transferred his attentions to her other breast, affording the nipple the same tortuous attention as he had its twin.
His heart pounded in his chest and he could feel the answering beat of hers in the pulse at her neck as he let go her nipple and pressed his lips beneath her ear, hitting every erogenous zone in her upper body he remembered.
“Let’s take this inside,” he growled. He was so achingly hard it would be a killer to make the short walk back to the house, but what he had planned demanded more finesse than a quick romp in the sand. He wanted Lily boneless with need, limp with pleasure. Totally at his command.
Lily stiffened with awareness as his words filtered through the layers of desire that clouded her mind. Her body shrieked, “Yes!” Already he’d brought her so close to climax with his touch, with his lips, with the hard pressure of his arousal against her aching core. He’d forgotten nothing about what turned her on. But her clouded instincts warned her to pull back as the reality of her uninhibited behaviour with him, a man she’d sworn to herself not to trust again, closed in on her with suffocating reality.
“N-no,” she stuttered as she lifted shaking hands to retie her halter top. It was lopsided but right now she didn’t care. Right now all she wanted was to get away—fast. “I’m sorry, Jack. I shouldn’t have let you do that—led you on like that. I…”
Lost for words, she turned and dashed through the sand as fast as the loose purchase would let her.
“No need to run, Lily. I’m not going to force you into anything you don’t want.” His voice carried across the sand, straight to her soul.
And that was the trouble. She did want him. Badly. So badly she hesitated for an infinitesimal moment. It was long enough for Jack to catch up with her.
“We’re not strangers, Lily.” His voice was soft, almost enticing, as if he was putting every ounce of persuasion he could into its tone and bend her to his will. “We used to be so good together. We can be again. No strings.”
She should never have let him catch up. She knew if he touched her she’d capitulate, no matter how much she felt he’d let her down. She was an adult. Capable of making her own decisions. Capable of choosing her own lovers to satisfy her needs. And right now she needed him with all of the aching teenage angst that had resided in a black hole where her heart used to beat only for him. He was waiting for her answer and she had made her decision.
“No, Jack. We’re not strangers. And that’s exactly why I’m leaving now. Thank you for tonight.” She hesitated and fired him the inscrutable smile she’d spent years perfecting. “For everything, tonight.”
His pupils dilated, consuming the amber glow of his irises that reflected the dying fire. She saw the muscle working in his jaw as he absorbed the deliberate hit.
“You haven’t changed a bit, have you?” A humourless smile crept across his face and his gaze narrowed.
“Changed? Yeah, I’ve changed. A lot, actually. Enough to know when to walk away from something or someone before things get out of hand—before someone gets hurt.”
“Walk, Lily? We both know that’s not your style.” Bitter vitriol stained his next words. “You run. Just like you always did. To me. From me. It makes no difference. Deep down, where it counts, you haven’t changed at all. You’re still a spoiled irresponsible tease who puts her needs first and acts without consideration of her actions. Frankly, it’s time you grew up.”
He picked up her evening bag and shoes from where she’d left them by the fireside.
“Here. You’ll need these.”
She accepted them in silence and made her way around the bottom level of the house to where her car stood on its own in the wide turning bay. His words rang in her ears. How dare he accuse her of being spoiled? Of being a tease. She hadn’t started that scene on the beach. She’d ended it. Just like she’d end it if the situation that had flared between them ever rose again—wouldn’t she?