IT WASN’T true! Mechanically fastening her seat-belt, Tamsin stared out into the darkness as the car moved off. Her temporary amnesia had been induced by weariness and the unaccustomed wine. Nothing to do with Jordan.
All right. She shrugged mentally. She was prepared to admit that she wasn’t completely immune to Jordan but then she wouldn’t be female if her hormones didn’t recognize and respond in some way to his blatant masculinity. Witness every woman in the restaurant tonight. She may not like him, but it would be impossible not to be aware of him as a man. But that was perfectly normal, well within her control.
Tonight was simply a one-off. And it was hardly surprising that she’d been slightly off keel after the emotional traumas of the day. Packing up her childhood home…Andrew in hospital…the shock of having the truth about her father confirmed. Her chest tightened. That was something she just couldn’t think about right now. All in all, it had been a lousy day and the sooner it was over the better.
She wouldn’t go back to the flat tonight. Now that she’d had a chance to think more rationally, it would be simpler just to phone Tom from home. Odd how she still thought of it as home…She suppressed a yawn, exhaustion sweeping over her. All she wanted right now was a long, hot soak in the tub, and then to fall into bed and blank out the past twenty-four hours.
Her eyebrows furrowed together as she suddenly became aware of her surroundings and the direction in which they were heading.
‘There’s no need to take me all the way back to Croydon,’ she protested. ‘I don’t want to—’
‘And how exactly were you planning to get over there yourself at this time of night?’
Jordan’s cool, patronizing tone caught her on the raw. ‘I was going to borrow Mum’s car,’ she lied airily, wondering why on earth she didn’t simply tell him of her change in plan. But he’d sounded so damn condescending.
‘You’re in no fit state to drive anywhere. You’ve had too much to drink,’ Jordan informed her brusquely.
Well, she’d certainly walked into that one, Tamsin admitted ruefully and it was a little late to tell him that she’d had no intention of driving anywhere anyway. But he didn’t have to sound quite so sanctimonious, so disapproving. She may have had more wine than him but she hadn’t exactly finished the evening legless, singing bawdy songs.
This was completely absurd, she thought incredulously as her eyes flicked to the forbidding, shadowy profile. Jordan obviously resented having to make the long detour on her behalf and she didn’t even particularly want to go back to Croydon. Why couldn’t they communicate about something as simple as this? Why couldn’t they ever have an ordinary civilized conversation without it erupting into a battle?
The trouble with Jordan was that he never damn well listened. If he’d let her finish her sentence in the first place, he would have avoided the extra mileage. Well, served him right.
Her eyes moved over the shadowy planes of his face. The harsh male features looked as if they’d been hewn out of granite. He looked tough, uncompromisingly male and as remote as if he were on a separate planet. It was impossible to believe that a short time ago she’d been in his arms…
Damn it all. How dare he simply block her out, act as if she no longer even existed? Just because she’d been the one to initiate the end of the evening instead of him.
‘God, you’re a selfish bastard,’ she exploded. ‘Just because you’re having to put yourself out for me for once…just because the evening didn’t end quite as you’d planned—’
‘And how exactly was that, Tamsin?’
‘I—’ She broke off, registering the dangerous edge to his voice, feeling the quagmire opening beneath her feet.
‘Oh, I see.’ The moment of reflective silence didn’t reassure her one bit. ‘You assumed my dinner invitation included breakfast, hmm?’
‘What? I—’
‘Sorry to disappoint you, Tamsin, but I’m a little fastidious with whom I spend the intervening hours.’
She didn’t believe she was hearing this. ‘If you imagined for one moment that—’
‘Spare me the outraged-innocent routine,’ Jordan drawled. ‘The invitation’s been in your eyes all evening. I could take you to bed any time I choose.’ He drew up at a traffic light. ‘Except I don’t choose.’
Don’t explode. Ignore him. You’ll never win. The words hammered in Tamsin’s head. She didn’t know it was possible to hate anybody as much as she did Jordan in that moment. Couldn’t bear to be with him a second longer than was necessary. Swiftly unclicking her seatbelt, she reached for the door handle.
‘Think about it first,’ Jordan advised her conversationally. ‘No taxis about. Pitch-dark.’ He smiled and then thoughtfully reached across and opened the door for her. ‘But it’s up to you.’
Face frozen, she swung her legs onto the pavement and hesitated, half in, half out of the car. She didn’t have a clue where she was. And as a grand gesture this was fast losing its impact. With as much dignity as she could muster, she scrambled back into the car and closed the door. Head held high, she focused her gaze directly ahead, willing the journey to end.
After what seemed like eternity, Jordan pulled up in front of the converted Victorian house situated at the end of a cul-de-sac. Wordlessly, Tamsin scrambled out and sped up to the front door, keys clutched in her hand. Pausing on the doorstep, she glanced back over her shoulder.
Jordan had made no attempt to follow her, was sitting as motionless as a granite statue. As she entered the house, she heard the sound of the car driving away.
The end to a perfect evening. Closing the front door, she leaned against it for a second. Her anger had dissipated. She felt drained and empty, inexplicably deflated. How had she really expected the evening to end? a small voice suddenly enquired. She dismissed it ruthlessly. She wasn’t going to dwell on the evening, analyse everything Jordan had done or said, like some adolescent. She was just going to block it out completely. She took a deep breath. And now, she thought unenthusiastically, she had to pacify Tom.
She’d noticed from outside that the light was on in the communal lounge on the second floor, so presumably he was still up. Her other two flatmates were both away for the weekend. Slowly, she made her way up the stairs, reluctantly passing her bedroom en route.
‘Tom, I’m so sorry…’ she began as she pushed open the lounge door and then faltered at the sight of the fair-headed young man slumped dejectedly on the sofa. ‘You lost the match,’ she quipped, instantly regretting her facetiousness as she saw the expression on his face.
‘I thought something had happened to you,’ he said quietly. ‘That you’d had an accident.’
‘Oh, Tom, I’m sorry,’ Tamsin repeated guiltily, moving across the room and sitting beside him. She had half hoped that he would have tired of waiting for her, left a note and spent the evening either commiserating or celebrating with his rugby team-mates. But that patently had not been the case. While she had been dining in an exclusive restaurant, he’d been sitting here worrying.
‘You could have at least telephoned,’ he said evenly.
‘I know. I should have but I just…’ Her voice tailed off. What on earth could she say?
‘You just forgot,’ he completed quietly. ‘You spent the evening with Jordan, didn’t you? I heard his car driving off.’
She nodded dumbly. Yell at me. Tell me I’m an inconsiderate, thoughtless wretch, that you’ve wasted the entire evening hanging around for me. But please don’t look at me like that, she pleaded inwardly, as she saw the pain in his eyes. He was the last person in the world she would ever want to hurt and this was the last way in which she’d expected him to react to her late arrival, she thought miserably, hating herself. She’d expected him to be annoyed with her—justifiably so—but had anticipated that he would soon relent, accept her apology and they would end up having a companionable cup of coffee together.
‘I care a great deal about you, Tamsin.’
Uneasily, she registered both the intensity in his voice and in his eyes.
‘Don’t you feel anything for me at all?’ he muttered huskily.
She cleared her throat uncertainly. ‘I’m very fond of you. As a friend.’ She didn’t want this conversation to go any further, wanted badly to escape. ‘Fancy a coffee?’ she said weakly. She began to rise to her feet.
‘No, Tamsin. Please. Just hear me out.’ Catching hold of her hand, he pulled her back down onto the sofa, turning to face her. ‘I want us to be more than just friends. I wasn’t going to say anything just yet…but I’m so scared once you leave the flat I’ll lose you completely.’ Raising a hand, he gently tucked an errant lock of silky hair behind her ear. ‘You must know how I feel about you.’
Tamsin swallowed hard. This couldn’t be happening. She didn’t want this to be happening. She saw his head lower towards her but her reactions were too slow.
For a moment, she remained passive as his lips brushed against hers. His kiss was warm, tender, and just for one split second she was tempted to launch herself into the comforting security of his arms. But it was a decision she would regret; it wouldn’t be fair to Tom.
His mouth increased its pressure, became more demanding.
‘No, Tom…’ Raising her hands to his shoulder, she jerked him away from her and the ensuing uncomfortable, awkward silence was even worse than she had anticipated.
She couldn’t bear to see the mixture of hurt and embarrassment on his face, couldn’t bear to draw this out any longer. Jumping to her feet, berating herself for her cowardice, she fled the room and rushed down to her bedroom. Sinking on the bed, she buried her face in her hands. She’d handled the whole situation so badly…if only she’d been more prepared…
The light tap at the door wasn’t totally unexpected.
‘I’m s-sorry. I wish I hadn’t…I’ve ruined everything now…’ There was a pause. ‘Can’t we forget tonight? Please. Just go back to the way we were?’
The misery in his voice made her heart squeeze. ‘Yes,’ she agreed quietly, but with a feeling of aching sadness wondered if it would really ever be possible to resume that old, easy friendship. ‘Good night, Tom.’
She heard the sound of his footsteps receding and, rising to her feet, began to pace jerkily around the room. Coming to a decision, she went out into the hall and called a twenty-four-hour minicab service. Then while she waited for it to arrive, she changed into a pair of jeans and a sweater and scribbled a quick note for Tom. It would be easier for both of them if she wasn’t here in the morning.
Jordan wasn’t exactly going to be overjoyed to see her, Tamsin mused gloomily as she mounted the three wide steps to the solid-oak front door. Odds on it would be a grimace and a growled ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ Well, at least the downstairs lights were still on. She pressed the doorbell, turned to give the cab driver a reassuring smile and nearly jumped out of her skin as she saw a shadowy form appear round the side of the house and come towards her.
‘Tamsin.’ The familiar drawling voice evinced not the slightest degree of surprise at seeing her, and as he came closer she could see that Jordan had changed from his suit into jeans and a thick blue sweater. Was he in the habit of taking nocturnal rambles around the garden? Tamsin wondered savagely, her heart still pounding from shock.
‘Let me guess.’ He fished in his pocket for a key and opened the door, light flooding out onto the porch. ‘You think you’ve dropped an earring in the car. It’s not worth much in monetary terms but it was left to you by your great-grandmother and is of great sentimental value and you couldn’t sleep for fretting about it.’
‘Oh, for Pete’s sake!’ This was all she needed. Had some woman in his past actually used that unoriginal gambit to further an acquaintance with him? She followed him into the house. ‘Would you…um…could I…?’ Hell, this was even more difficult than she’d imagined. Unconsciously, she glanced back over her shoulder towards the waiting taxi.
‘Cash-flow problem?’ Jordan murmured sympathetically.
‘I’ve left my purse back in the flat.’ she snapped. A fact she’d discovered to her dismay only a short time ago. ‘Jordan,’ she exclaimed with exasperation as turning on his heel he disappeared into a room on the left.
What did he want? Her to grovel? She was about to dart after him when he reappeared and wordlessly thrust a wad of notes into her hand.
‘Thank you,’ she muttered ungraciously. ‘I’ll pay you back tomorrow,’ she added coolly and sped outside to the waiting driver, apologizing profusely for the delay. Reeling slightly from the amount of money she’d just handed over, she watched the tail-lights disappear around the bend in the tree-lined drive, turned back to the house and looked at the closed door in disbelief.
Chin squared, she reached for the bell and kept her finger pressed on it until the door opened.
‘Still here?’ Jordan enquired mildly.
‘I need a bed for the night.’ She forced the words out through clenched teeth. ‘I’ve left my house keys—’
‘Back at the flat with your purse, hmm?’
‘As it happens, well, yes,’ she admitted and yelped in protest as Jordan’s hand closed round her arm. Slamming the door behind him, he propelled her into the large, spacious lounge and pushed her none too gently into a leather armchair. Striding over to the drinks cabinet, he poured a measure of whisky into a glass and swung round to face her.
‘Right, Tamsin,’ he said smoothly. ‘What exactly are you doing here?’
‘I’ve already told you,’ she snapped. ‘I—’
‘Half an hour after I’d dropped you off at the flat, you were suddenly attacked by an overwhelming sentimental desire to spend one last night in your old home. And in your maudlin state you quite inadvertently forgot both your purse and keys.’ He raised a sceptical dark eyebrow.
‘Oh, go to hell!’ And thanks a bunch for the drink. Tamsin’s eyes suddenly widened. ‘My God, you arrogant, egotistical…you think that this is some devious, subtle feminine plot to—’
‘To what, Tamsin?’ Eyes gleaming at her sudden discomfort, he tossed the whisky to the back of his throat, poured another measure into the glass and carried it across the room.
‘Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten the punch-line?’ Sitting back in the armchair drawn up opposite hers, by the redbrick fireplace, he crossed one lean leg over the other and surveyed her with inscrutable dark blue eyes.
‘I’d rather sleep in a hedge than under this roof.’ Tamsin jumped to her feet. ‘It’s been a bloody day and I’ve had enough—’
‘Lovers’ tiff with Tom, hmm?’
Tamsin froze, slumping back into her chair. How on earth…? ‘Tom and I aren’t lovers…we’re just f-friends.’ She regretted the instinctive denial immediately as she saw the glint in the blue eyes.
‘But Tom doesn’t see it quite like that?’ Abruptly, he threw back his head and roared with laughter. ‘So the faithful hound has finally shown his teeth. And it all came like a bolt out of the blue. You had absolutely no idea of the way he felt.’
Tamsin’s mouth tightened as she looked back at the dark, mocking face, heard the derision in his voice, unhappily aware of the betraying colour flooding her face. Hadn’t she had her suspicions about Tom for some time now, alerted by the occasional expression in his eyes, the tone in his voice?
‘But you preferred to ignore it. Pretend it wasn’t happening because you didn’t want it to. You enjoyed having your faithful swain as long as he didn’t make any emotional or physical demands on you.’
‘That’s a revolting thing to say and it’s not true!’ Tamsin’s hands gripped the arms of the chair, her nails sinking into the soft leather.
‘Did Tom hurt you in any way tonight? Try and rape you?’
‘Of course not! You’ve got the foulest mind—’
‘So why exactly did you feel compelled to run away?’ Jordan asked conversationally.
‘Because I thought it would be easier, less embarrassing if I wasn’t there in the morning,’ Tamsin snapped back.
Jordan smiled. ‘Easier for whom?’ he drawled softly. ‘Tom? Or you?’
‘I…’ she faltered. She broke his gaze and stared down at her hands.
‘You’re twenty-three years old and you’re still living in cloud-cuckoo-land.’ The contempt in the grating voice cut through her like a knife. ‘Anything unpleasant and you run away, avoid the issue. Your father…Tom…’
‘No,’ Tamsin muttered, but she could feel the fight draining away from her and realized to her horror that tears were trickling down her face.
‘If that’s my cue to rush over with tissues and sympathy, forget it, Tamsin.’
Dashing at her face with her hands, Tamsin jerked her gaze to Jordan, registering the complete detachment on his face.
‘You’re the last person in the world I would expect sympathy, understanding or compassion from. You’re like a machine. Devoid of all human emotion.’
Jordan’s expression didn’t alter. ‘Oh, go to bed,’ he said dismissively. ‘Go and wallow in self-pity in private.’
‘You’re a bastard, Jordan.’ Rising to her feet with as much dignity as she could muster, she walked towards the door. ‘And how a courteous, kind, gentle man like Andrew ever fathered a son like you is incomprehensible.’
‘Possibly because he didn’t. Andrew is my adoptive parent, not my natural father.’
Tamsin whirled back round, wondering if she’d misheard the dry, clipped words, and as she saw the shutters slam down over the blue eyes, the chiselled male features form into a forbidding granite mask, frustration tore through her. She felt like marching over to him and shaking him with all her strength. He did this to her every time. Made some tantalizing personal comment and then shut her out, retreated back into his lair.
‘Good night, Jordan. I hope I can reciprocate your warm hospitality one day.’
Slamming the door behind her, Tamsin moved into the hall and slowly made her way up the imposing, carved staircase. Was it common knowledge that Jordan was adopted? Was it only with her that he was so unforth-coming? Her hand tightened on the polished banisters. How could she have not known something as fundamental as that about him? The inexplicable stab of aching emptiness caught her totally unawares, was like a physical pain.
Reaching the top of the stairs, Tamsin surveyed the array of closed doors leading off from the wide, highceilinged landing. Presumably, since Jordan hadn’t allocated a specific one to her, she had a choice of rooms. Her footsteps silent on the oatmeal carpet, she pushed open a door at random and flicked on the light switch.
Stepping over the threshold, she stopped abruptly, her eyes moving slowly around the room, absorbing the kingsize bed, the dark suit hung on the wardrobe door, the white shirt discarded casually over the back of the elegant fireside chair, the assortment of male toiletries on the dressing-table.
It would seem that she had inadvertently stumbled into the lord and master’s inner sanctum. And the sooner she beat a hasty retreat the better. Not that she would be the first woman, discounting the housekeeper, to enter this particular domain, she mused acidly. Her eyes flicked back to the huge bed, the cream-and-dark-green duvet reflecting the room’s dominant colour scheme.
How many women had shared that bed with Jordan? She recoiled immediately from the insidious question. It was of no concern or interest to her if Jordan chose to spend every night of the week with a different woman. Although somehow she doubted it. One-night stands wouldn’t be his style. It was impossible to envisage Jordan living the life of a celibate but he was too fastidious, too selective to be promiscuous. And what exactly was she doing, for heaven’s sake, standing in the middle of Jordan’s bedroom, speculating on his sex life?
Her gaze fell on a collection of framed photographs displayed on the rosewood writing desk under the sashed window. She hesitated and then berating herself for her weakness gave in to the temptation, drawn irresistibly across the room.
Slowly, she inspected the photographs in turn. Andrew, easily recognizable, his arm around the shoulder of a smiling, curly-headed woman. Jordan’s adoptive mother. Tamsin’s eyes darkened with compassion for the woman whose life had ended so prematurely in a car crash.
A black Labrador looked up into the camera with soulful brown eyes. Jordan’s childhood pet? She didn’t even know he liked dogs, had assumed he would regard them merely as an unwanted tie.
Swiftly, she passed over the photograph of an unknown man and woman, her attention caught by a holiday snap of a group of children of mixed ages playing on a beach. She pored over it but if Jordan was amongst them she couldn’t identify him. A school trip? Her heart gave an involuntary squeeze. Or an outing from a children’s home?
Her forehead furrowed. This collection of photographs indicated a side to Jordan of which she would never have suspected. Yet it was completely characteristic that they weren’t displayed in the more public rooms downstairs but here in private, as private as the memories they evidently evoked. Away from inquisitive, prying eyes, she reminded herself guiltily, started to turn away and stiffened.
A youthful, oddly gentle-looking Jordan grinned down at a laughing, dark-haired girl by his side. The colour print must be well over ten years old, but there was no mistaking Jordan’s companion. Sara Lyne.
The woman with whom Jordan had once lived. The woman who had evidently remained important enough for him to have kept a constant reminder of her. And now that woman was back in his life…
‘I keep my personal correspondence in the drawer on the left. It’s not locked.’
Burning with embarrassment and shame, Tamsin spun round and saw Jordan blocking the open doorway, his eyebrows drawn together in a thunderous black line.
‘I’m s-sorry,’ she muttered inadequately, wondering if she’d ever felt so small in her entire life. ‘I opened the door by mistake and…’ she faltered, her eyes dilating as he moved purposefully towards her, the ominous expression on his face far from reassuring.
‘Jordan, I’ve said I’m sorry—’
The words strangled in her throat as he reached out an arm and pulled her roughly against him, his mouth covering hers in a brutal, savage kiss that was as punishing as a physical blow. Then raising his head, he spun her around in his arms and ejected her through the open door, slamming it behind her.
Dazed, feeling as if her legs were going to give way, Tamsin stood motionless on the landing. Tentatively, she ran her tongue over her sore, bruised lips. A kiss that had been prompted and executed without desire or passion but purely from anger. And justifiably so…
No! Jordan’s action wasn’t justifiable or excusable. Did he think he had some open mandate to kiss her, touch her whenever the mood suited him? Adrenalin surging through her, she swung back round, gave a perfunctory knock on the door and burst into the room.
‘I’m sick to death of you mauling me about, manhandling me. Okay, I looked at a few lousy photos…that doesn’t give you the right to—’ She stopped, realizing that she was talking to thin air, and then her eyes flew across the room as she saw Jordan emerging from the en suite bathroom. He’d removed his jumper and was in the process of unbuttoning his shirt.
‘I’m afraid I missed most of that.’ Reaching the final button, he shrugged the shift from his powerful, bronzed shoulders. Bare chested, he turned to face Tamsin. ‘I’m just about to take a shower. If you’re planning a replay, perhaps you’d care to join me?’ Casually, his hand dropped to the buckle of his jeans.
He wouldn’t…damn exhibitionist! As she turned and fled down the landing, Tamsin heard the mocking laughter echoing after her. She should have stayed and called his bluff, she thought bitterly, instead of letting him, yet again, reduce her to the level of a stammering, crimson-faced adolescent.
She flung open a door to her right and momentarily forgot everything as she gazed with pleasure at the white sloping ceiling, the delicate pattern of wild flowers on the wallpaper, the warm, glowing oak furnishings. Crossing the thick green carpet, she knelt on the window-seat and gazed out through the latticed window and discovered that the room overlooked the swimming pool, the water shimmering far below in the moonlight.
Unbidden and unwanted, a memory stirred. Jordan patiently teaching her to perform a racing dive, teasing her unmercifully for her ungainly bellyflops into the water. Had the Jordan with the dancing blue eyes, warm, infectious grin ever really existed, she wondered wryly, or simply been a figment of her imagination? She’d spent that whole summer laughing with him…but that too had been an illusion. Jordan hadn’t been laughing with her but at her. She winced. Had her ridiculous infatuation been so pathetically obvious?
Kicking off her shoes, she padded across to the en suite bathroom, pleasantly surprised to find it was as well-equipped for a guest as a first-class hotel. Thick, fluffy towels were folded neatly over the heated rail and an array of expensive toiletries including toothpaste and sealed brush were displayed on the shelf above the marble basin.
Stripping off her clothes, she had a quick shower and, clad in the white towelling robe she discovered on the back of the door, returned to the bedroom. She frowned, puzzled by the glow of light outside the window, and moved across the carpet to investigate. The floodlights around the pool had been switched on, illuminating the solitary swimmer.
He was mad. Stark, staring mad. Who in their right mind went swimming at this hour of the night or, to be precise, early morning? The water might be heated but it was still only March. Perhaps he was on some sort of macho keep-fit jag…
As Jordan reached the far end and pulled himself out, Tamsin felt her stomach lurch, totally unprepared for her reaction to the almost naked masculine body. For a brief second, he stood poised at the edge of the pool, moonlight playing over the naked width of his shoulders, and then executed a perfect dive back into the water.
Tamsin’s breath caught in her throat. Beautiful was normally the last word she would use to describe a man but there was no other adjective to describe the bronzed male form powering himself with effortless ease through the silver water.
Kneeling on the window-seat, chin cupped in her hands, she watched him tumble turn and come back towards her. Her stomach muscles cramped into a fierce, yearning knot. More than anything in the world, she wanted him to look up at her with a slow, lazy grin and invite her to join him in that enchanted moonlit world beyond the window.
And she’d mentally accused Jordan of being deranged! An enchanted world? she mocked herself. Freezing cold water and an equally chilling companion? Abruptly, she pushed herself to her feet, drew the curtains and, removing her robe, padded across to the bed.
Switching off the light, she determinedly closed her eyes, but exhausted as she was, sleep eluded her completely. She stared up into the darkness and then turned over onto her stomach and plumped up the pillow. Restlessly, she curled up on one side and then the other. It was impossible. The oblivion she so desperately craved escaped her completely.
Flicking on the light, she stretched out a hand and selected a book at random from the catholic selection on the bedside table. Resolutely, she opened the covers but the words made no sense, were superimposed with the image of Jordan. Every angle and plane of his face, every fluid line of his body burned in her brain.
Snapping the book closed, she sat up. She just couldn’t get comfortable in this damn bed. She was too hot, waves of heat ebbing and flowing through her body. Her breasts ached, felt unnaturally swollen. There was a knot in her lower abdomen twisting tighter and tighter and her stomach kept dipping as if she were at sea in a force ten gale.
Irritably, she tossed back the duvet and padded to the chair where she’d left her clothes. Slipping the baggy Tshirt she’d worn under her jumper over her head, she reached for her jeans and tugged them up over her slim hips. Hot milk. Cocoa. Weren’t they the standard remedy for insomnia? Although what she really craved was a long, cold drink to ease the dry tautness in her throat.
She darted over to the window, ascertaining with relief that the outside lights had been turned off, and left the room. The last thing she wanted was to encounter Jordan, for him to think she had deliberately come downstairs in search of him.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she headed down the hall towards the kitchen and stopped. The door to her left, which led to the covered passageway connecting to the swimming pool and changing area, was open, light streaming out. So presumably, Jordan was still up after all.
She hesitated. She could just imagine his acerbic comments if he discovered her rummaging around in the kitchen. It might be more diplomatic, not to mention courteous, she admitted grudgingly, to ask him first. Grimacing, she walked through the door, down the passage and through a second door, the carpet underfoot giving way to cream tiles. Directly ahead, French windows gave access out to the darkened swimming pool; to her left, the doors of the four changing rooms, each equipped with a shower, lay open, the interiors deserted.
Process of elimination. Jordan must be in the sauna. Resignedly, she pushed open the fifth door.
‘Jordan, may I—’ The words froze in her throat as her gaze simultaneously encompassed the brief black swimming trunks discarded in the middle of the tiled floor and the bronzed, naked male body lying stretched out on the wooden slats. Oh, God, why didn’t she ever think…?
She couldn’t move, remained rooted to the floor, mesmerized by his body, her breath catching in her throat. In the same split second, she recognized her own body’s immediate feminine response. Her stomach muscles tightened, her ribcage rose in time to her erratic breathing, lifting her taut breasts, rubbing the swollen nipples against the thin material of her T-shirt.
Then, as Jordan reached for a towel, knotting it around his waist while swinging himself into a sitting position, she broke from her trance.
‘I’m sorry…’ She didn’t need to see the expression on his face to know that her aroused feelings were as tangible as his. But she could do nothing to stop them. Blindly, she turned towards the door.
‘Tamsin.’
The urgency in the husky voice halted her. Unsteadily, she turned round, feeling as if her legs would give way as she saw the raw, naked hunger in the dark blue eyes. His gaze dropped, moved to the swell of her breasts, as visible as if the T-shirt was a second skin, his breathing as erratic, as ragged as her own.
‘I need to look at you…I need to see you…’
The hoarse words should have shocked her back to reality but they didn’t, merely intensified the furnace raging inside her; the knowledge that she could affect Jordan like this was more heady than any drug. Never before had she felt so conscious of her own body and the pleasure it could share with a man. No, she amended dazedly as Jordan moved towards her. Not a man. Not any man. But this man. Jordan…
She shuddered convulsively as he drew her slowly into his arms, her eyes locking into his, drowning in the blue, shadowy depths. She offered no resistance as he gently eased the T-shirt over her head and dropped it to the floor. Then, at the last minute, the instinct to cover herself in the classic gesture proved too great.
‘Put your arms down…look at me.’
Taking a deep breath, Tamsin did as he asked, the open desire in his eyes as they moved over her naked, creamy breasts making the blood roar in her ears.
He reached for the top button of her jeans and then began to draw down the zip, sliding the jeans over her hips. Her breathing grew more and more shallow as she stood motionless in front of him, that wantonness excited to fever pitch as she watched the expression on his face while his eyes caressed her body, lingering over the curve of her taut breasts.
‘You’re beautiful. So beautiful. Just as I imagined.’
Jordan had imagined her like this…As he reached out and took hold of her hand, gently drawing her even closer, she felt weak, dizzy with anticipation.
Raising her hand to his mouth, he touched the palm with his lips and then his teeth closed over her index finger, biting it gently before drawing it inside the hot moistness of his mouth. Her eyelashes flickered downwards.
‘Jordan…’
He touched her face, traced the outline of her cheekbones, probed the delicate, sensitive whorls of her ear before dropping to her mouth. Her lips parted instinctively, closing over his finger, her tongue moving against it, imitating what he had done to her, his rapid breathing telling her that it gave him equal pleasure.
His hands moved, trailed an expert path down her throat, over the silkiness of her shoulders, dropped to her ribcage and then slowly and languorously circled her breasts, teasing them until they burned from his touch.
‘Jordan,’ she begged her need, swaying towards him.
‘Don’t move, Tamsin. Just stand there,’ he muttered.
He began a slow, feathery massage over the flat, satin skin of her stomach. Her muscles contracted. She could hardly bear it, this exquisite form of torture. His light, sensuous touch continued and finally moved lower but only to touch her legs, caressing her calves, moving up over her knees and back down again.
‘Jordan…’ she moaned his name deep in her throat.
‘Tamsin.’
It took a second for the husky voice to penetrate her head, her body reeling from shock as the hands that had driven her to fever pitch were now pushing her away. Coherent thought gradually took form, her eyes flickering open. If this had just been another of his power games…if he’d simply set out to humiliate her…
She forced herself to meet his gaze, witnessed the naked passion in the narrowed, half-closed eyes, and despite the warmth from the sauna, she shivered. This was no game.
‘I want…I need to make love to you, Tamsin.’ His voice was ragged as he rose to his feet, towering above her, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the towel had slipped over his hips to the floor.
This was the time to come to her senses. He was giving her a chance to escape, to back out before it was too late.
Her eyes locked into his, only inches separating her from the satin strength of his body. She could no more walk away now than fly to the moon.
Slowly, she stretched out a hand and touched his face, traced the tenacious line of his jaw, the firm, straight mouth. That longing to feel his mouth against hers, to melt into him, was unendurable.
‘Kiss me. Please,’ she implored shakily and froze with stunned disbelief as he abruptly pushed her hand away.
‘Get out, Tamsin,’ he rasped. ‘Go.’
She stared at him uncomprehendingly, her eyes wide with shocked confusion. What was happening? Jordan’s eyes, his body, flagrantly contradicted those harsh words of dismissal.
‘Don’t you understand what I’ve been trying to tell you?’ he thundered. ‘I hadn’t planned…I’m not prepared …and if I start to kiss you, touch you again, I’m not going to be able to stop!’
Comprehension finally dawned, mingled with incredulity that this strong, invincible man should so doubt his own self-control where she was concerned. At the same time came the knowledge that she was glad Jordan wasn’t ‘prepared’, reinforcing her suspicion that his media playboy image was exaggerated, that he wasn’t in the habit of indulging in casual sexual encounters.
‘Tamsin…for God’s sake…go.’
‘It’s all right.’ Her voice cracked, every nerve ending in her body raw, alive to the sexual tension emanating from Jordan. ‘I’m on the P-pill,’ she mumbled.
As she saw the sudden shadow flit over his face, she stiffened. Was that disapproval? How dare he judge her, condemn her? That the doctor had in fact prescribed the Pill purely to regulate her periods was neither here nor there.
‘You damn hypocrite,’ she flared. ‘You’re like something out of the Ark. I didn’t think men like you still existed in this day and age…’
Her words choked in her throat as she saw the reflection of her own anger in his eyes. Anger that suddenly erupted into a volcano of desire as their mouths locked together.
Sweeping her up in his arms, Jordan carried her towards the door…