Irresistible Temptation (23 page)

Then the world steadied, and she felt the reality of his sweat-slicked shoulders under her hands as she floated back to earth.

A long time later, Declan said, 'I thought at one time I'd have to build a willow cabin.'

'A what?' She turned her head and stared at him, then remembered.
Twelfth Night.

' "And make the babbling gossip of the air Cry out, 'Olivia!' ",' he quoted softly. ' "O! you should not rest Between the elements of air and earth, But you should pity me!".'

She stretched bonelessly, like a kitten. 'Is that all it was—sympathy?'

He laughed, and drew her closer. 'I can think of no other reason.'

Her hand smoothed his hair-roughened chest. 'That's the kind of modesty that's almost immodest'

'Then I'd better change tack.' He dropped a light kiss on her mouth. 'Have some more champagne.'

'Mmm.' Olivia sighed luxuriously as he refilled her glass. 'This is incredibly decadent.'

'Well, make the most of it, woman,' he said with mock severity. 'Next time it's a cup of strong tea and a bacon sandwich. I need to keep my strength up.'

She grinned impishly at him. 'Sounds good to me. I'm starving.'

'Ah, God, my perfect girl.' He kissed her again, spilling her champagne down her body.

'Oh, look what you've done,' she scolded. 'I'm soaked.'

'What a waste entirely,' he murmured. He sighed, lowering his mouth to her breasts. 'I'll just have to salvage what I can…'

The bacon sandwiches were wonderful, and Olivia demolished every scrap.

'You're a great chef.'

'Hmm.' Declan frowned critically. 'The bacon could have been crisper. I need more practice.' He smiled at her across the table. 'like every night for the rest of our lives.'

She felt the colour rise in her face as she smiled back at him, her heart lifting.

She thought—This, I shall remember always. This moment of complete happiness. For the times that aren't so golden.

And stopped, as a faint shiver of disquiet stirred deep within her. As if, she thought, some shadow had indeed fallen across her joy.

But that, she told herself, was nonsense. Because she and Declan belonged to each other now. And nothing could spoil that. Nothing.

When she awoke, the room was full of watery sunlight, and she was occupying the big bed alone.

She propped herself up on her elbow, wondering where Declan had gone and taking her first good look at the room in which she'd spent the most heavenly night of her life.

It was large and airy, with a big window framed in long cream drapes. The walls were a pale terracotta, and the wooden floor was covered in Mexican rugs in primitive earth colours. Apart from the bed, with its cream covers, the room contained little furniture. There was a television and video unit on a stand, a pair of night-tables in some dark wood, and an antique chest of drawers.

It was a very calm, uncluttered room, she decided, rather like the rest of the house.

And very much as she herself felt on this fine Sunday morning, she thought, with a small private smile. But wasn't terrific sex supposed to iron out the creases and make you see with a new clarity?

I never knew, she thought shaking her head. I never realised how it could be.

None of her previous limited experience had prepared her for the totality of her response to Declan's lovemaking. For her unexpected capacity to give and receive delight.

And she had delighted him. He had told her so in a hundred different ways—and not just in words.

She ached pleasurably in all kinds of places, she realised as she stretched languidly. But that was to be expected, considering they'd eventually fallen asleep in each other's arms in complete exhaustion.

She heard a rustle of paper, and, turning her head sharply, saw that her outflung hand had encountered a note pinned to the adjoining pillow.

She unfolded it and scanned the brief message: 'Gone to buy us some breakfast. Stay where you are for room service.'

She was tempted, she thought as she pushed back the covers, her mouth curving reminiscently. But the least she could do was put the coffee on.

She showered swiftly, slipping into her underwear and shoes, which she'd left in the bathroom. Until she could find her dress, it would have to be Declan's robe again, she decided, fastening the sash as she went downstairs.

She'd just reached the hall when the front door opened behind her. She spun round, smiling mischievously, intending to tell him he'd returned five minutes too soon. And then the words and the smile died on her lips as she found herself facing Jeremy.

For a moment there was total silence. Olivia stood as if rooted to the spot, her lips parted in shock. Jeremy looked her over, eyes narrowed, his mouth twisting unpleasantly.

'Well, well,' he said softly. 'Who'd have thought it?'

She found her own voice. 'What are you doing here? And how did you get in?'

'The door was on the latch. And I could ask what you're doing, too, but I don't have to, because it's bloody obvious what's been going on.' He gave a sneering laugh. 'You were too pure and righteous to let me put a hand on you, and now you're sleeping with the boss. Tut, tut, Livvy. What a little hypocrite you are.'

The robe covered her from her throat to her feet, but she felt naked suddenly. And ridiculously scared.

She lifted her chin defiantly. It has nothing to do with you…'

'Now that's where you're wrong. It has everything to do with me, as I've just realised.' He began to laugh. 'My God, I knew Declan would do a lot for his beloved cousin Maria, but I never dreamed he'd go to these lengths. Yet I should have known, because he told me what he intended to do— right here in this hall. Only I was too dumb to see it— then.'

'What are you talking about?'

'Bait, sweetie,' Jeremy said contemptuously. 'Declan decided he was going to split us up by leading you astray. Giving you a taste of his famous sexual prowess. Except that he served up the full banquet by the look of you. So, he offered himself as bait, and you couldn't wait to wriggle on to his hook—could you, darling? He even moved you into his office to make sure of you.'

He laughed again. 'Poor, naive little Livvy. All the bastard had to do was reel you in. And now he'll throw you back with the other little fishes.'

She drew a deep, painful breath. 'I don't believe you.'

Only she did believe it. She'd even thought of it herself, she remembered frantically. Considered it as a possibility. Then discounted it. And now it was back to haunt her as grim reality.

'You forget I've lived with him.' His tone was vindictive. 'I've seen how he operates—and I'm a mere beginner by comparison. Let's see—he romanced you into bed last night, and now he's out buying the usual croissants and Buck's Fizz for your farewell feast All quite routine, I assure you.'

'You've lied to me for months—and you're lying now.'

He shrugged. 'I've no reason. Actually, I feel sorry for you, allowing yourself to be taken in like this. Face it, love, if he wasn't so devoted to my bitch of a wife and her interests, he wouldn't have given you a second lode Declan dates models, actresses, girls who're at the top of their particular tree—like that blonde designer he was seeing.'

He shook his head. 'You fell for the dangerous charm, darling, and failed to see the barracuda underneath. But then the devious bastard's been making fools of us both.'

'Stop it.' Olivia tried to cover her ears with her hands.

'Oh, dear,' Jeremy mocked. 'Getting through to you, is it, that you haven't been the world's cleverest bunny? But cheer up. You've been laid by an expert, and that kind of education is never wasted. The next guy along will be incredibly grateful.'

'You disgust me.'

'Now that's not very kind.' He couldn't control his malicious glee. 'He's the one who's conned you—used you.'

She looked at him steadily. 'And you didn't?'

'Guilty as charged,' he said nonchalantly. 'But you have to admit you were the perfect decoy—the old childhood friend—needy and a little sad—who wanted a brotherly shoulder to cry on. Even the most suspicious wife wouldn't have worried about that. You were the perfect alibi.

'Oh, I'm not saying I wouldn't have had you if you'd been available,' he added with another shrug. 'And the rent would have been useful. But you were fixated on love and marriage, and that's not my scene.

'And it's not Declan's either—in case you were stupid enough to hope.'

She said, 'Get out.'

'Willingly. I only came round to do you a favour.' He held up a plastic carrier, 'Your jacket Melinda doesn't want it cluttering up the flat. I couldn't get an answer at your place, so it occurred to me that Declan could return it to you at work tomorrow. But this is better still.'

He tossed the carrier to her, and she caught it, hugging it against her breasts as if it were a shield.

'So tell me about him, Livvy.' His voice was low suddenly. Suggestive. 'Give me a few tips. Make me eat my heart out. What does he do in bed that keeps his women hanging round panting for more?'

She felt as if she'd been covered in slime. She stared back at him, sickened, unable to speak.

'Although I wouldn't bother in your case, darling,' he went on. 'I doubt if you've made his A list. Because he has one, and he gives his women scores out of ten. Maria told me that ages ago. It's the only time I ever heard her disapprove of him. Think about it.'

He blew her a kiss, and went.

Olivia stood for a long moment, staring into space. She felt numb, but that wouldn't last. Soon—too soon—there would be unbearable pain. And a sense of humiliation going too deep for words.

She thought, I have to get out of here. Now. Before he comes back.

Her bag was in the dining room, and she found her dress draped over a clothes airer in the small laundry room that opened off the kitchen.

She took off the robe and threw it down, feeling her skin burn where it had touched. But at least she could change down here, she thought as she zipped up her dress. She didn't have to die the death of going back to Declan's bed—the scene of her bitter, unforgivable betrayal.

She heard herself moan softly, and dragged her jacket out of the bag, shaking out the creases.

'Olivia?' She'd been so intent on making her escape that she hadn't heard his return, but he was standing in the doorway watching her, his brows lifted questioningly. 'You're dressed. What happened to breakfast in bed?'

'I changed my mind.' How could her voice sound so normal? 'I don't really care for croissants and Buck's Fizz.'

'Fair enough,' he said equably. 'Because I've brought a stack of bacon—in case we need more midnight snacks— plus eggs, tomatoes, and sausages. The full Irish breakfast Oh, and a couple of baguettes with some pat
é
and fruit for lunch.'

'I won't be staying. Not for breakfast, lunch, or even another minute.' She shrugged on her jacket.

'What the hell is this?' He was frowning now. 'And where did that come from?' He pointed at the jacket.

'Jeremy brought it round. Wasn't that kind of him? You left the door on the latch and he just walked in.'

'Oh, God, I'm sorry.' He sounded genuinely remorseful, she thought with incredulity. 'It never occurred to me he'd have the brass face to turn up here. But surely he can't have upset you again?'

'On the contrary.' Inside the pockets of her jacket, her hands were balled into fists. 'He's done me a number of favours. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be going.'

'Not like this.' Declan stepped forward, taking her by the shoulders. 'I won't let you.'

'Don't touch me.' Olivia recoiled, shaking herself free almost violently. 'You'll never lay a hand on me again.'

For a moment he stared at her in total disbelief, then he took a careful pace backwards, raising his hands in the air.

'You're free.' His drawl held menace. 'But I think I merit an explanation.'

She walked past him, careful to avoid even the slightest contact. She couldn't afford to remember even fleetingly how his body had felt against hers—inside hers. Last night he'd turned her into his creature—wild, uninhibited, sobbing with ecstasy in his arms. This morning she belonged to herself again.