MITCH had showered and shaved, and was now wearing a pair of denim cutoffs and an unbuttoned shirt with his sunglasses stuck in the breast pocket…and male sexuality exuded from every pore of his body with such impact Jessica felt as dazed as if she’d been struck by lightning.
He grinned at her, his golden eyes twinkling. “Don’t stand there with your mouth open, Jess. You look for all the world like a fledgling waiting for a worm.”
With an effort, Jessica regained control of herself, while cursing that part of her that had reacted so visibly to Mitch and his raw male magnetism. Affecting an amused smile, she said, implication obvious in her tone, “So?”
His laugh rolled out. “A worm, am I, Jess? Why on earth would you want to spend time with such a lowly creature?”
He had come right up to her as he spoke and was so close she could smell the lingering hint of his shaving cream. Gillette Foamy, regular. The same brand he’d used when she’d known him before. And as she inhaled the scent, a fragment of memory, as unwelcome as it was unexpected, flashed into her mind.
It was so vivid it swept her backward through time as if she were on a magic carpet: the memory of the two of them together, the morning after they’d made love for the very first time, at his flat in Belgravia.
Mitch with a towel around his waist, drawing the last scrape of his razor over his jaw as he finished shaving.
She standing behind him, naked, her arms clasped around him, her lips pressed against the damp skin of his shoulder.
Their eyes meeting in the patch of bathroom mirror he’d wiped clean with his towel after their shower, his tawny gaze darkening swiftly with rekindled desire…
He’d put down his razor and with a groan had turned and drawn her roughly into his arms. And when they’d kissed, his jaw had been smooth as silk, and his body scent had mingled with the scent of his shaving cream, and she—her senses adrift on a heady cloud of excitement and anticipation—had yielded breathlessly as he’d swept her up and carried her back to bed—
A stab of painful longing slashed through her now but even as she winced from it, she thrust the memories aside. Swiveling away from Mitch, she began walking along the path in the direction of the swimming pool. He would only have to look into her eyes, she knew, to see how much she wanted him. And she acknowledged to herself that she had known from that first encounter the previous day that the old chemistry still sparked dangerously between them, and he wouldn’t be Mitch if he didn’t react to that look in her eyes and drag her into his arms. She was well aware that if he did, she wouldn’t be able to resist him…and she wasn’t ready, yet, to let him come so close.
In a moment or two, she felt in control again, and as she steeled herself, she groped in her skirt pocket for her sunglasses and put them on. At least, no matter how hard he looked, he wouldn’t be able to see her eyes—
”Jess, hold on—we’re not going that way.”
She turned. “But I thought we’d go to the pool.” Her voice had a husky edge. “Or down to the water.”
“I have the Jeep. The Wildings own another private beach a mile or so along the coast—it’ll give us a chance to be on our own.”
Oh, great! Jessica thought with a sense of bleak de-. spair. Just what I need, to be alone, in some secluded spot with this man who can melt my bones just by conjuring himself up in my memories. She took in a deep breath, and, pasting on a bright smile, said, “Oh, lovely. Let’s go.”
Mitch didn’t talk much during the short trip, and Jessica was free to look about her, free to admire the scenery.
The road was dusty and rutted, and looming from it to the left were high-peaked hills, the lower slopes richly verdant with palms and tropical vines, the upper slopes hazing into a soft lilac color as they rose to meet the azure sky. To the right was the ocean, the blue-green water shimmering in the afternoon heat, the sparkling white beaches fringed with groves of palms and mangrove thickets that rooted their way right to the water’s edge.
At one point they drove past fields of sugarcane. At another, past a magnificent white stucco house set above the ocean, its beautifully manicured lawns edged by a profusion of anthuriums and hibiscus. And just two minutes later, past a tiny cottage at the roadside, with a corrugated roof and white-painted fretwork, its walls brilliant with the rosy red blooms of bougainvillea, its side yard teeming with laughing dark-skinned children and playfully barking dogs.
Jessica found herself charmed by all of it, and she was lazily watching a frigate bird gliding overhead when Mitch wheeled the Jeep suddenly to the right, his unexpected move taking her by surprise. Frowning, she glanced ahead, and blinked as she saw they were making for what seemed to be an impenetrable jungle.
Mitch must have sensed her unease, because he muttered something that sounded like “concealed entrance.” Jessica held her breath as he battered the Jeep through a tangle of creepers and felt no more relaxed when they came out the other side and he guided the ancient vehicle along a narrow trail under a canopy of greenery that choked out the sun.
“I hope you know where you’re going,” she grumbled.
“O, ye of little faith.” In the shadows, Mitch’s gaze met hers, and she saw a taunting glint. “I know where I’m going, Jessica. The point is…” His tone was light. “Do you?”
He moved his gaze back to the trail ahead, and had Jessica not noticed the darkening of his eyes as he asked the question, she’d have thought it a casual one. But she had noticed that sudden change in his expression, and she knew his nonchalance was only superficial. What on earth could he mean? she wondered. Did she know where she was going? She decided it would be best to take his question literally, as if she believed that was how he had meant it.
“Of course I know where I’m going. You’re taking me to the beach, aren’t you?”
Jessica thought his grip on the wheel tightened.
“Jess,” he said quietly, “you’re a puzzle to me.”
“I am? In what way?”
He shook his head, and she saw his lips twitch, but it wasn’t a smile, not a real smile. “In the old days, I could read you like a book—your eyes were always so clear and honest—no secrets, no devious thoughts. But now…” He glanced at her again. “I can’t read you at all.”
“That’s all to the good, then, isn’t it?” she said flippantly. “If I decide to take you up on your offer of an affair, our relationship will have so much more spice-a woman should always retain an aura of mystery if she wants to keep the man in her life interested.”
“But if you take me up on my offer, I won’t be the ‘man in your life,’ will I, Jess? I’ll just be one of many—no, don’t protest.” He held out a hand to silence her as she opened her mouth to choke out an indignant denial. “That’s no problem. You’ll not be the only woman in my life. Our relationship therefore won’t require that I see you through a lover’s rose-tinted glasses, and it won’t require that I be enthralled by your feminine mystique. What I’ll be interested in will be your body—period. Our contract will be a strictly sexual one, with neither of us pretending it’s anything else. I thought I had made that clear.”
Jessica clasped her hands tightly together in her lap. The man was insufferable. She took in a deep breath and steeled herself for battle.
“You really are a funny old duck,” she said with a purposely brittle laugh. “You suggested that we embark on a new affair, with a different set of rules from last time…but—and do forgive me pointing this out to you-wouldn’t it be exactly as it was last time…though we did, of course, meet more than just once a week then? After all, you must have known I was seeing other men at that time, and you—though you are, I’m sure, far too gentlemanly to admit it—were seeing other women.”
She had half turned in her seat to look at Mitch as she spoke, and felt her heartbeats give a little lurch of alarm when she saw how pale his face had become. Everything around her faded away abruptly and all she was conscious of was the suddenly frozen set of his lean features and the sensation that he had stopped breathing, that although the Jeep was still bouncing its bone-shaking way along the trail, he was no longer exerting any conscious control over the rugged vehicle. And then, just when she realized she had been holding her own breath, she heard his hiss out, and, after swallowing to relieve the tight ache in her throat, she let the air drift silently from her own lungs.
“Jessica Gray.” He didn’t look at her, and she saw that his face was harshly carved into a grim mask. “You really are a first-class bitch.”
Jessica drew on all her self-control. “I am, aren’t I?” she said, a taunting edge to her tone. “But then, you’ve known that for some time, haven’t you?”
Mitch rammed his foot down on the accelerator, and there was no doubt in Jessica’s mind now that he knew exactly what he was doing. He was using the Jeep to give vent to his anger and his frustration. It rattled and bounced, and jumped and dove, until she thought her every bone was going to be broken, but through it all she gritted her teeth, knowing the punishment couldn’t last forever. And in the end, just when she was about to scream at him to slow down, they turned a corner, the Jeep leapt out of the shadows into the sunshine again, and the vehicle’s wheels dug viciously into a patch of sand-rimed grass as Mitch slammed his foot onto the brake.
Jessica’s breath came out in a deep shudder, and for a long moment she just sat there, the sound of the engine gradually fading away to make room for the liquid cry of the birds swooping over the pale sand ahead, and for the splash of the frothy waves dancing at the edge of the ocean beyond.
How could it have come to this? she wondered, squeezing back a tear that ached to be set free. How could she ever have believed that she and this man were meant for each other?
Mitch had an admirable ability to regain control of his emotions and—with remarkable swiftness—to conceal them. Jessica already knew that and now he presented her with further proof of this aspect of his character. He gathered up a blanket and picnic hamper from the back seat, and by the time he’d rounded the front of the Jeep to open her door, there was nothing in his demeanor that even hinted at the explosive rage to which he’d given vent moments before.
She, unfortunately, had no such ability. She could feel her lips tremble, could sense that her face was as bleached of color as the fine grains of sand on the beach. Moving stiffly beside him as they walked away from the Jeep, she was acutely aware of the unsteadiness of her breathing, the agitated rise and fall of her breasts as she tried, desperately, to hide her distress. She had to hide it, she knew—she had to convince Mitch she was what he thought she was: a first-class bitch. And to convince him of that, she had to make him believe his outburst had left her unmoved.
Throwing him a glance from beneath her lashes, she made to toss her bag down onto the sand, and said, with forced brightness, “How about here?”
“No, a bit farther along.” Perhaps taking his cue from her, he used a similar nonhostile tone, and Jessica felt some of her tension begin to dissipate.
The sand was light as sifted cake flour, and with each step Jessica took, grains flicked up to tickle her calves. The sun was blissfully warm on her bare arms and legs, the sound of the sea—the whisper of white foam, the splash of warm water—like the strains of some soft and lovely melody in her ears. The air itself was crystal clear, and there seemed to be magic in it. Jessica felt as if all her senses were sharpened, and sharpened so acutely she was aware of things in a way she’d never been before. Mitch wasn’t even touching her, yet she could feel her skin prickle as if he was running his fingers over it; and she could smell the musky scent of his body as surely as if she were nestled in his arms with her cheek pressed to his chest.
“Here we are.”
They had rounded a corner and were now standing at the entrance to another, sickle-shaped beach, bidden from the road above by an outcropping of rock. Fringed with palm trees, it was, Jessica thought with a rush of pleasure, the most beautiful spot she had ever seen. And in the bay, a couple of miles away, was a small island, its white beaches and lush greenery vivid against the translucent waters.
“It’s wonderful.” Jessica’s voice came out huskily. “And this belongs to Ben and Alison? What a perfect spot.”
A perfect spot for seduction? The thought had come unbidden.
“Yes,” Mitch said, “but they keep it for their own private use.”
“But they allow you to use it?”
“Mmm. And the island, too.” His gaze veered over the water as he spoke. “It’s a great place to go when a person feels the need of privacy. There’s a reef most of the way around it—just under the water—and tourists are warned to keep well clear of that particular island.”
“Sounds wonderful.”
“I’ll take you there, if you like,” he offered carelessly. “Tomorrow. Ben will give us a boat.”
Deeper and deeper. She was getting in deeper and deeper. But that was why she was here, wasn’t it? She stubbornly ignored all the warning bells clanging in her head and said, casually, “I’d like that. But you’re sure Ben and Alison won’t mind…your taking me there?” Oh, Lord, surely she could have made a better choice of words?
“No.” Mitch’s cynically amused tone revealed that the slip hadn’t passed him. “They won’t mind if I…take you…there.”
Tiny muscles clenched way down in the pit of her stomach. “Good!” She looked at him brightly. “Then I’ll look forward to it. You’re very lucky that the Wildings are so generous to you. You’re obviously…privileged.”
“Privileged?” Mitch had moved forward as he spoke, and she followed him. “That’s a good word, Jessica, and in this case, an apt one. I feel very privileged.”
“You’ve known Ben and his wife for four years, you said this morning?”
He hesitated, for just a moment, before turning around to face her. “I’ve known Ben only since I started coming to Starlight, but Alison and I…” His mouth twisted in a smile—a strangely mysterious smile, Jessica thought. “We go back a long way. A very long way.”
Jessica couldn’t stop herself. “Even longer than you and I?”
“Yes.” A frown flickered over Mitch’s brow as he looked down at her, and slowly he reached out and traced a finger over Jessica’s upper lip. She managed not to flinch or react in any way. “Yes, even longer than you and I.”
To her dismay, she felt a dull ache wrap itself around her heart. So he had known the lovely Alison for years, had perhaps even been going out with her while she herself had been involved with him. And, of course, he had been sleeping with Amanda then, too…
Abruptly she snapped her thoughts from that depressing path, a path that had caused her so much pain. “Do they have any family, Ben and Alison?”
“You’re not really interested in Ben and Alison, are you, Jess?” Mitch’s tone was cynical. “You don’t have to pretend anymore…at least not with me. The only person you’re interested in is your own beautiful self. So tell me…” He bent to throw out the blanket over the sand, and after dropping the picnic basket on top of it, along with his sunglasses, casually stripped off his shirt. “Tell me all about that beautiful self. How’s your life unfolding these days? Everything going according to plan? Because I’m sure, my love, that you do have a plan!”
“Of course I have a plan.” Jessica felt her eyelids quiver as Mitch stripped off his cutoffs and stood before her in his taupe swim trunks. “I have goals and what use are goals if you don’t set out a plan for achieving them?”
“I can’t argue with that, Jess. So let’s hear more about these goals of yours. You were all set to shoot up the ladder when you worked at the Golden Chain—with your potential you should be at least a department head by now, yet you told Alison you were doing secretarial work? It doesn’t make sense, someone with so much going for her…”
No, it wouldn’t make sense to him…but then, he didn’t know that she had a child.
She had made a conscious decision, when Jason was born, that he would always come first…he would always come before her career. When she had been with the Golden Chain, she had willingly, eagerly, worked many hours of overtime, both in the evening and on weekends, throwing herself wholeheartedly into her job. She knew that if she continued to do that after her baby was born, the child would lose out. So when she had applied for a position with Eric Trenton’s company, she had lowered her sights and said she wanted a nine-to-five job, a-job she could leave behind her when she went home at night. Because she had been ambitious, it had been a sacrifice…but one she had never regretted.
“I’m on holiday, Mitch.” Jessica opened the button securing the waistband of her skirt, pulled down the zipper, and scooped the skirt off. She dropped it beside her sunglasses. Not quite meeting Mitch’s eyes, she went on, “You heard me tell Ben I didn’t want to talk about work…or even think about it…while I’m here. Do you mind…?”
She tugged up the hem of her T-shirt, and in the brief glimpse she got of his face just before she pulled the light garment over her head, she saw that Mitch’s gaze had dropped to her legs. Good, she thought grimly, that’s a start.
A moment later her T-shirt was lying atop her skirt, and though Jessica could feel tension clench again in her every nerve, her every muscle, she somehow managed to stretch her arms above her head in a long, lazy gesture, like a cat who has just come out from cool shadows into drowsy warmth. “Mmm,” she sighed, “this is heavenly.”
Without waiting for Mitch to respond, she sauntered away along the beach…and noticed, with a sinking feeling, that the Sumo wrestlers had begun to stir once more. With a sigh, she pressed the flat of one hand against her stomach. She was not, she decided tautly, cut out to play the femme fatale. It was one thing to drape her body in an alluring swimsuit, a swimsuit cut to tantalize; it was quite another to flaunt that body in a way that was designed to make Mitch burn with desire. Teasing any man was a dangerous game, but teasing a man like Mitch Carradine was tantamount to waving a red rag before a bull—
”You look different, Jessica.”
She hadn’t heard him come up behind her. Turning her head sharply, she found him taking his place by her side. She kept walking.
“Different? In what way?” she threw up at him coolly.
He slowed his stride to keep pace with her easy steps. “It’s hard to pin down, but there seems to be a subtle change in your figure—you will forgive me, I hope, for looking at it, but it seemed, actually, as if you were wanting me to.”
Did the man have invisible antennae? “Mitch, darling.” She spoke in a tone that was lightly reproachful but gave no sign of her very real irritation. “You are the one who invited me to go for a swim. You are the one who chose this isolated beach. And you’re implying that I’m the one who wants something? I thought you got the message four years ago…but since you didn’t, let me deliver it one last time. I want nothing from you, Mitch.” She averted her face quickly just in case he caught a glimpse of the naked truth in her eyes. She did want something from him, something that was of the utmost importance to her; something that would protect her, and would assure her that Eric Trenton would never tell Mitch that she had borne his child—
”But it’s not only that your hips have become more rounded, your breasts more lush and more…womanly, there’s something different about the way you move. Before, there was always a certain nervous restlessness about the way you walked. Now you go forward like a woman who’s been places and knows exactly where she’s heading. Have you been places, Jessica,” he continued softly, “since last we met?”
Oh, yes, she’d been places. But how could she tell him? He was the last person she could tell. She had been to hell and back since last they met. Months of hell, during which time—like some movie soundtrack playing over and over and over again—she had heard Amanda’s voice, and then Mitch’s, drifting to her disbelieving ears as she had, on her own, explored the heated greenhouse at Stokely Manor.
“…I thought Garth would be able to handle it, Mitch, but he can’t. It’s eating at him, making him—”
“Would it help if I were to talk to him, Mandy? I might be able to convince him that once the baby’s born, he’ll think differently about it, feel differently—”
“No, it won’t do any good. Might even make matters worse.” Amanda’s voice was dull with despair. “And I can understand how he feels. Because, after all—let’s not try to pretty up the facts—the child I’m carrying is yours.”
“I’m not denying that, but—”
Jessica shuddered inside as she recalled how she had pressed her fist to her mouth to stifle her horrified gasp, and shuddered again as she recalled how she had cringed back among the perfumed orchids, her eyes wide and disbelieving and almost blinded by tears, as Mitch and Amanda walked by, just feet from where she was standing. He had his arm around her, cradling her against his tall figure…and he was brushing a kiss over her hair, soothingly.
“Oh, Mitch, what are we going to do?” Amanda’s voice was just a whisper. “I never guessed it would turn out this way. The last thing I wanted was for Garth to be hurt…”
“We can’t go back and change the past. What’s done is done, and we’ll all have to live with it.” Mitch’s tone had a grim edge. “Best thing for me to do is remove myself from the picture—at least temporarily. Perhaps that way, in time, Garth will be able to look on the child as his…”
Their voices became unintelligible, and within moments, Jessica heard the greenhouse door close behind them…and she was left standing there, tears rolling down her cheeks, her heart feeling as if it had splintered in a million bleeding pieces…
She never did know how long she stood there, shivering, in that shocked state after Mitch and Amanda left, but what she did know, and with bitter certainty, was that for the rest of her life, the scent of orchids would bring back memories of that darkest of all dark moments—
”Jessica?” Mitch’s voice came to her through what seemed like a thick wall of pain. “Are you still with me? I asked you…have you been places since we last met?”