“JUST like old times, isn’t it, Jess?”
Jessica opened her eyes, and blinked as early morning sunlight dazzled her. Mitch had one elbow on his pillow, and he was looking down at her, his thick brown hair tousled from sleep. As he moved his head toward her, it blotted out the bright rays and she could see his face more clearly. He was, she saw, smiling, his eyes lazy and warm…and his fingers were gentle as he brushed back the thick strands of glossy black hair that had fallen over her cheek.
She felt as if her heart was breaking, all over again. But that was something he would never know. Must never know.
“Yes.” She tilted her head back on her pillow and looked up at him. “It was just like old times…” Her lips curled in a purely feminine smile. “Only better.”
“Must you go home today, Jess?”
Jessica closed her eyes, lest he see any sign of the anxiety mirrored there. Home. She had to get home, before Eric Trenton did any more damage—
”Jess?” Mitch’s lips touched her brow, and she felt the roughness of his unshaved jaw on her skin. “Do you?”
“Yes.” Her tone was husky. “I’m afraid so.”
“But we’ll see each other again—”
She touched a fingertip to his lips, stopping him. “No commitments, no promises, remember?” Trailing her nail across his lower lip, she blinked back threatening tears and forced a smile. “Let’s make the most of today, and let tomorrow take care of itself.”
She thought she saw a shadow cross his eyes, but a second later it was gone. “If that’s what you want.”
“It is…”
“Then—” he lowered his mouth to hers, his eyes cloudy with desire “—let’s not waste one precious minute.”
This time when Mitch kissed her, she kept her brain alert…something she had not managed to do the previous night, when she had given herself mindlessly to his lovemaking. This time, she forced herself to control that part of her that wanted to float dazedly into a world where nothing existed but the passion flaming between them. She had to think…she had to decide what she was going to do. Mitch would, she was sure, fall asleep again after they made love, perhaps for just a short while, but it would be long enough. Long enough for her to find that sheet of paper that had fluttered to the floor the night before, long enough for her to skim a searching look over it…long enough for her to find the information she needed…
His lips were pressing urgent kisses along her neck, on the sensitive spot just under her ear. Twisting her head, she managed to snatch a glance at her watch, and saw that she still had over nine hours before she left the island.
His hands were pushing back the sheet, his palms skimming over her ribs, teasing, tantalizing, drawing the breath from her lungs. Knowing there was nothing she could do now, nothing she could do till later, Jessica closed her eyes and twined her fingers more tightly into his hair, and gave in to the waves of pleasure already invading her body.
* * *
The paper was lying on the rug, just where it had fallen when it had fluttered from her trembling fingers.
Jessica tiptoed across the floor toward it, her teeth dug into her lower lip, every nerve in her body screaming in silent tension. From the bedroom she could hear the sound of rhythmic snoring, and an image floated into her mind, an image of Mitch lying sprawled across the bed—almost naked but for the sheet trailing around his thighs—as he had been when she’d darted a swift glance back into the room before sneaking so furtively away. The image was vivid, and had the power to melt every bone in her traitorous body…
Drawing in her breath, she bent to scoop up the paper, grasping it carefully, so it wouldn’t rustle at her touch. Her head, she realized, was pounding, and she found it difficult to focus her eyes on the print…it seemed to dance, to taunt her—and then she realized it was her fingers that were shaking, not the typed words on the paper.
Re your offer to purchase the Markington Estate, this is to confirm same delivered by hand, as per your orders, to Lester Forgan’s lawyer in the Regency Tower Building this morning, in the amount of…
Jessica stifled a gasp of shock…shock not untinged with awe…as she saw the incredible sum Mitch was offering for the property in question. The Markington Estate.
The estate was in Wiltshire. She remembered seeing a photograph of its magnificent manor house in a recent For Sale ad in one of the property magazines that crossed her desk in the course of her work…and she also recalled the figure to which offers had been invited, a considerable figure but yet well below the bid mentioned in this fax. No one in his right mind would offer such an astronomical price—not unless money was no object and the person was absolutely hell-bent on owning the estate, whatever the reason. And Mitch was obviously hell-bent on beating out all possible competitors; in fact, with a bid this high, he would feel absolutely confident of leaving them all at the starting gate—
The snoring had stopped.
Jessica froze for a nerve-chilling moment…and then, as she beard the gentle rhythmic sound start up once again, she exhaled a small sigh of relief. Mitch must have turned over in his sleep.
She had to get out of there.
Without a sound, she put the paper back on the floor. She had dressed earlier, the moment she’d been sure Mitch was asleep, and now she crept to the outside door, her bare feet making scarcely a sound.
The door creaked slightly as she pulled it open, but though she grimaced, she didn’t wait to find out if the noise had disturbed Mitch. She fled along the path toward the side door of the inn, praying it would be unlocked. It was.
Once inside, she put on her shoes, and slowed down, concentrating on regulating her breath, which was coming in great fits and shudders.
Thankfully she didn’t meet anyone on the way to her room, and once safely there, she crossed immediately to the phone. With the time difference, the Trenton Company’s offices would already be open, and the sooner she told Eric Trenton what he wanted to know, the sooner she would feel as if the heavy cloud hanging over her would be lifted.
Moments later the girl at the hotel switchboard connected her with the number she wanted, and with the phone pressed closely to her ear, she heard Jane, the Trenton Company’s senior secretary, say crisply, “Good morning, Trenton Property Company.”
“I’d like to speak to Eric Trenton, please.”
And then he was at the other end of the line. As Jessica heard his familiar voice say, “Trenton speaking,” she took a second to picture him—an overweight, pompous man in a large, impressive office, where almost everything around him was stamped with the Trenton Company logo. A person to whom appearances were vitally important, Eric Trenton liked the company name to be stamped on everything in the building where possible, from the cafeteria staff’s uniforms, to the coffee mugs, to the smallest eraser in the typing pool…and even on the toilet rolls in the washrooms. And everything had to be kept immaculate; as he himself was immaculate, always dapper in one of his many pin-striped suits, with his mustache neatly trimmed, his thin hair smoothly combed, and his nails neatly manicured-nothing in his appearance even hinting at the dark side he kept hidden from the world.
“It’s Jessica Gray,” she said in a low, hard tone.
She could almost hear the tension snapping into place between them. “Yes?” His tone was curt, but there was no mistaking the strain in his voice—a sign of the pressure he was under, in his self-imposed rivalry with Mitch.
Jessica’s fingers curled around the phone, her knuckles white, as despair and self-contempt mingled inside her like a foul whirlpool. Was she really doing this? She’d never believed she was capable of doing something so underhanded, so devious…so despicable. Betrayal. Like blackmail, it was a very ugly word.
But Mitch’s behavior had been ugly, too, five years before. And what she was doing, she was doing for Jason’s sake. Surely, in a case like this, the ends justified the means? She had to believe that. She did believe that. She closed her eyes and swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat as if it wanted to deny her the use of her voice. “It’s—” she slumped down on the edge of the bed “—it’s the Markington Estate.”
She heard a quick hissing sound. “The Markington Estate. My God, of course. What a prize…and what a location for—” He broke off. “And his offer?” he demanded harshly.
Eyes wild and desperate, Jessica looked around the room, as if looking for a way to escape. But there was no escape. She had come this far, she had to go all the way. She mumbled her response.
“For God’s sake, woman, speak up!”
But even as she repeated what she’d said, clearly this time, she knew Eric had heard her the first time, knew he was just digging the knife in. And knew by the elation in his voice as he repeated the amount, that the information she’d given him had made his day.
Just as it had ruined hers.
But better that than put Mitch Carradine into a position where he could infect her son’s life, she reflected with a bitter twist of her mouth.
“Thank you, Jessica, you’ve done well. And in return, I shall-”
“In return, all I want is for you to keep your promise.”
And with that, she hung up the phone, despite knowing how furious he’d be at the way she had thus taken control of their conversation. But she couldn’t help it; she hated him, hated everything he stood for.
But one thing was sure; she would never let herself be put in the same kind of a position again. She had a hold over Eric Trenton now, just as he had had a hold over her. If he stepped out of line once, if he ever tried to use his knowledge to try to blackmail her again, she would threaten him with going to the authorities and spilling the beans about how he’d engineered the bidding on the Markington Estate. She was well aware he would never risk having that become public.
Knowing she had that power now was a consolation, though one that gave her little pleasure. But at least he no longer posed any danger to her. And once she got back home, she would start, very discreetly, looking for another job. Perhaps somewhere in Scotland. Someplace where she need never bump into Eric Trenton again…and someplace where she could hide from Mitch, in case he ever found out she was the reason he had lost the Markington Estate.
After she’d showered and washed her hair, Jessica dressed, and then made herself a pot of coffee in her room. She poured herself a cup, and drank it as she tidied her things.
The phone rang three times, but she ignored it. She hung the Do Not Disturb notice outside her door, and later, when someone knocked, and even turned the door handle, she ignored that, too. It would probably be Mitch, and she was feeling far too vulnerable to see him.
As she finished her coffee, Jessica glanced frowningly at her watch. She was scheduled to catch the five o’clock ferry, but now that she had accomplished her mission, there was no need to stay. There was an earlier ferry, one that was due to sail in about twenty minutes and if she left now, she could probably make it, and not have to spend the rest of the day trying to avoid Mitch—
But she’d have to hurry.
Without giving herself time to change her mind, she called the desk and asked for a porter to be sent up to her room in five minutes. Then she went through to the bathroom and cleaned her teeth quickly, before zipping up her sponge bag and tucking it into her case, along with the rest of her clothes. She was just locking the case when she heard a tap on the door.
“Coming,” she called as she crossed the room to open the door for the porter—
But it wasn’t the porter. It was Mitch who stood there, leaning against the doorjamb with a lazy smile.
Jessica felt her pulses lurch forward in panic as she stared at him. He was looking devastating in a stonecolored shirt and white shorts, and her heartbeats thudded painfully as she recalled the night of love they had just spent together. Everything in her—every uncontrolled and wanton cell in her—hungered to reach out and put her arms around him. She dug her hands into the slash pockets of her linen trousers.
“Surely you’re not leaving, Jess? As I passed the desk, I thought I heard someone say you’d called for a porter.” He came closer, and his familiar male scent drifted to her, tantalizingly, invitingly.
Like sweet petals exposed to sunshine, her own skin gave off an answering scent, something totally beyond her ability to control. “I’ve decided to take the next ferry to Guadeloupe, do some shopping and sight-seeing at Pointe-à-Pitre—I’m spending the night there and flying out early, to Antigua—my connecting flight to Gatwick is at eleven—”
“You were going to leave without saying goodbye?”
She took a deep breath. “I…did look for you.” Liar.
“You didn’t answer my calls earlier. You didn’t come to your door when I knocked.”
“Mitch, I-”
“The little island—I promised to borrow Ben’s boat and take you there today. Come, Jess, it’ll be fun.” He reached out and twined a lustrous lock of her loose hair over the back of his hand, capturing it, and drew her gently toward him. His lips were only a breath away, his eyes so deep she could feel herself drowning in them. “What are you running from, sweet Jessie?”
“I’m…not running—”
“Last night…” His voice was husky, his breath tender and warm against her cheeks. “Oh, Jess, last night—”
“Last night was…one for the road, Mitch.” Jessica felt her brow dew with perspiration. “Or…one for the scrapbook. Memory’s scrapbook.”
“We can make more memories. I want to make many, many more memories with you, sweetheart. You said you’d think about my offer. Have you…thought about it?”
Jessica felt as if his fingers were tugging desperately at her heart as she looked at the stark expression in his eyes, the lines of strain around his mouth, the rigid set of his shoulders. Did he really want to get involved with her again, in a “permanent, temporary affair”? And did he want her to stay, today, as badly as he appeared to? Oh, she must be wrong. Mitch Carradine wasn’t capable of feeling any kind of deep emotion, any kind of lasting true emotion. She knew that, if she knew nothing else. And yet, at this moment, he looked as if she was putting him through the worst kind of hell.
“Oh, I’ll think about it,” she murmured evasively, “if it’s what you really want—”
“What I really want, at this moment, is to spend the rest of today with you.” The hand twined around her hair pulled her even closer. “Just one day,” he urged, his voice husky with invitation, “is all I ask. One day out of time.”
One day out of time…
What do you have to lose?
The treacherous voice in her head was in league with the treacherous stirrings in her heart. She might have withstood one, but how could she withstand both? Oh, not with Mitch’s fingertips caressing her nape, with his body lightly, seductively brushing against hers…
“That sigh, Jess…” His voice was like warm syrup running over her skin. “It seemed to come from the depths of your soul. It’s not a life or death decision, is it? To spend a few more hours with…an old friend?”
“All right.” Had she really said that? “I’ll stay.” Yes, that was her voice. “But you’ll get me back by five, so I can catch the last ferry?”
“On my honor as a Scout,” he said gravely, raising his right hand in an impressive salute.
“You were never in the Scouts,” she protested, but before she could say more, a porter suddenly materialized beside them.
Mitch gave him no time to speak. “Here.” He slipped the man a generous tip. “Change of plan,” he explained. “The lady won’t be leaving this morning after all.”
Smiling widely, the porter left, and as he did, Mitch glanced down at Jessica’s linen trousers and silk shirt and said, “I’ll give you ten minutes to get changed into something more casual while I go back to the chalet for my trunks, and order a packed lunch. And this time,” he flung back over his shoulder, his eyes dark with promise, “I’ll make sure we both enjoy it. See you out front in ten minutes.”
What had she let herself in for? Jessica wondered dazedly as she slumped sideways against the doorjamb; and why had she let Mitch take over the way he had?
Oh, she knew the answer to the second question, knew it only too well. When he had pulled her against him, when he had teased her with his body, he had beguiled her in a way she found impossible to resist. Lily-livered. That’s what she was, succumbing without a whimper to his potent sex appeal.
But as for the first question—what had she let herself in for?—time alone would come up with the answer to that.
“Here we are, Jess…ours for the day, thanks to Ben.”
Mitch switched off the outboard motor, and as the sound faded away, to be lost in the swish of the wavelets dancing on the shore, he jumped out into the shallows.
Jessica took off her sandals and clambered out after him, wading up the gentle slope and then slipping on her sandals again while Mitch hauled the boat out of the water. Once it was safely beached, he unloaded the picnic hamper and led the way across the white sand toward the coconut palms fringing the beach area.
“Ben built a cabin here a long time ago,” he said as he took her along a shadowy path. “He and Alison used it quite a bit when they were younger, though very rarely now. Once in a while, they rent it to a honeymoon couple…”
Jessica was listening to Mitch, but only with part of her mind. In the other part, the deep and emotional part, she felt a persistent niggling, as if her intuitive senses were trying to tell her things were not as they seemed.
But what could be wrong? She certainly hadn’t felt that way when Mitch had come to her room to invite her out on the boat, yet when he’d picked her up, a bare ten minutes later, she’d sensed something different about his attitude. The change was so slight that had she not been so attuned to his moods, she would probably not have noticed it. And even now, she couldn’t put her finger on what was wrong, what was off-key. He was talking away nonchalantly, and his manner was friendly, as it had been during the short boat trip.
On the surface.
Jessica frowned and bit her lip. Why did that warning bell keep sounding in her head? What could have happened during those brief ten minutes when they were apart? It could have nothing to do with the Markington Estate bids, because the deadline was not till tonight at twelve, and the bids would all remain sealed till then, so there was no way he could have discovered his bid had been unsuccessful.
Oh, she must be imagining things—probably because of her guilty conscience! Good Lord, she had even thought, on their way here, that Mitch’s eyes had seemed icy cold on one occasion when she’d turned unexpectedly and caught him looking at her—but it must have been a trick of the light, because even as she blinked in response to the blast of hostility she thought she’d seen, he’d taken one of her hands in his and, turning it over, had brushed a casual kiss across the fine-veined skin at her wrist.
“This is it, Jess,” he was saying now. “What do you think of it? Quite a hideaway, hmm?”
With a determined effort, Jessica pushed her doubts to the back of her mind as she and Mitch came out into an open area. A day out of time, he had said. That’s what they were going to have, and now that she was here, in this paradise, she would be a fool not to enjoy it! Her gaze traveled delightedly over the tiny log cabin straight ahead, with its quaint thatched roof and scarred, emerald-painted wooden door. “How lovely!” She turned to Mitch impulsively. “May we go inside?”
“Of course.” He took a key from the pocket of his shorts. “Here—” he handed it over “—it’s all yours.”
With a feeling of anticipation, Jessica stepped across to the door and after a brief struggle with the lock, opened it. Inside it was shadowy, and surprisingly cool, and as she walked forward, Mitch said from behind, “It’s pretty basic. Just this room, a small bedroom, and an outdoor toilet. Kitchen facilities are minimal.”
“I can see that,” Jessica said wryly as she noted the dented white enamel basin set on the counter. “No plumbing? No fridge? No running water?”
Mitch threw open a small cupboard by the shuttered window. “Nothing but some cutlery and china. Can’t leave fresh food lying about in this climate. Anyone using the cabin has to be self-sufficient, has to enjoy roughing it.”
“Honeymoon couples, I’ve heard, don’t do very much cooking or entertaining,” Jessica said.
“You’ll never know, will you?” Mitch said lightly as he dumped the hamper on the countertop. “Since you’re—”
“Never going to get married. Right. But how about you, Mitch?” she asked archly. “Do you think that one day you and a beautiful young bride will spend your first nights of wedded bliss here—” she moved across to the open doorway leading to the bedroom “—on this very bed?”
The bed wasn’t very big—not quite a double, Jessica reflected, but wider than a single. Mosquito netting hung around it, to protect the occupants while they slept…or, she took in a deep breath as she sensed Mitch coming up behind her, as they made love.
“If this bed could only talk.” His voice was amused, but the fingers he curled around her shoulder were firm and hard. “It would have some tales to tell.”
“It’s just as well it can’t, then,” Jessica countered, “because I, for one, wouldn’t want to listen.”
“But you like to eavesdrop, don’t you, Jessie, dear?” His fingers tightened on her flesh. “You had no qualms about listening to my conversation with Alison that night on the beach?”
She jerked her shoulder free of his grip, turning abruptly to stare up at him with a flare of anger in her eyes. “That was accidental,” she snapped. “I’d never purposely try to overhear—”
“Just as well,” he said softly, “since you have a gift for misunderstanding what you do hear, and putting the worst possible interpretation on it.”
“If you’re going to be nasty and bring all that up again, we might as well call this whole thing off.” Shoving her way past him, Jessica stormed outside, making her way back toward the beach. But before she had gone ten yards, he had caught up with her, and strode easily alongside her.
“You won’t get very far on your own,” he said with a chuckle, “unless you’re a powerful swimmer. It’s a long way to shore…and I have the only key to the outboard motor.”
She stopped short, and glared up at him. “Take me back, then,” she snapped. “I wish to heaven that I’d left on that early ferry as I wanted to. Why I agreed to come here with you, I don’t know! I—”
“Don’t you?”
The blunt question stopped her dead in her tracks. Perhaps later she would be able to come up with some snappy comment that would have put him in his place, but right now, impaled as she was in his tawny gaze, enmeshed as she was in his sexual web, she had no such repartee available. To her dismay, she felt her throat tighten, her eyes sting.
“I think we both know the answer to that question,” he said simply. “But for now—I think we would be wise to leave it. Let’s have a dip before lunch.”
He took her by the hand and led her back to the boat, where they had left their towels and swimsuits. Jessica felt like a child on an outing—a child who’d had a tantrum, a tantrum that was not forgotten, but had been put temporarily on the back burner.
A few minutes later, however, as she splashed into the water alongside Mitch and he threw her a heart-stopping grin, she pushed any lingering anxieties to a far corner of her mind, and set out to enjoy herself.
* * *
After a long, lazy swim, they ate lunch under a palm tree on the beach, chatting about nothing in particular, then lingered over the last of a bottle of red wine. Only after repacking the picnic hamper with some biscuits and fruit, and half a flask of coffee—the remains of their lunch—did Mitch begin to talk in a more serious vein.
“Tell me, Jess,” he said. “How are your sisters? What were their names again—Antonia, I believe…and Fen? Antonia was the one who lost her husband just before you and I met. What’s she-doing these days? Didn’t she have two small children—twins?”
“Mmm—a boy and a girl. Fen’s fine, still running her bookshop up in Scotland, and Tonia’s doing well now, too, though she had a rough time in the beginning—she found it hard coping with Dominic and Rebecca without Tom to help. Fortunately Tom had life insurance, so at least she’s had no money worries.”
“Does she have a job?”
“No, but she plans to go back to teaching after the summer, when the twins start school. She’s already sent in application forms to several school boards.”
“And is there a man in her life?”
Jessica smiled wryly. “I’m afraid not.” Her smile faded and she gathered up a handful of sand, and with a thoughtful frown, let it sift through her fingers. “It’s a bit of a worry to me, actually—the way she won’t let go of the past. Oh, I know Tom was wonderful, and he was so good to her, but…”
“Memories don’t keep you warm on a winter’s night, or something like that.” Mitch’s voice was quiet. “So, she doesn’t date, doesn’t go out with men at all?”
Jessica shook her head. “No, she just smiles that charming smile of hers and tells would-be suitors that she devotes all her spare time to her children, that they need her. And what man can argue with that?”
“Does she still live up in Yorkshire?”
“No, she moved three years ago.” The conversation, Jessica realized, was taking a dangerous direction; it was time to guide it elsewhere. And as she decided exactly where she would steer it, she felt her heart start to hammer erratically against her ribs.
“When we were talking about Amanda the other day…” casually she gathered up another handful of sand “…you mentioned she had a little girl. I remember what lovely blond hair Garth had—does Megan take after him?”
Mitch’s lips twisted in a slightly mocking smile. “It would have been something of a minor miracle,” he drawled, “if Megan looked like Garth.”
Jessica couldn’t have been more surprised if he’d come right out and told her about his affair with Amanda. Yet even as she let what he had said sink in, she found herself despising him for the casual way he was discussing the situation.
“Just what are you implying?” she asked, purposely lacing her tone with disbelief. “That Garth was not Megan’s father?”