One Night in the Orient (17 page)

“It’s a wonder I don’t have a complex,” she told her reflections, who all grinned somewhat evilly with her. Then she drew in another deep breath and set her jaw.

Clearly insanity beckoned; only the weird held conversations with themselves.

But a bubble of excitement gave a glitter to her smile that it had never had before, and the anticipation she’d been feeling since Nick had suggested they pretend to be lovers sharpened into something keener and more potent.

That kiss made it seem as though he intended it to be a real relationship, not one in name only.

It was just as well she refused to hope, because back on deck when he said, “Time to go,” his aloof tone set an immediate barrier between them.

They drove back to his house almost without speaking. Once there, Nick said, “I’ve work to do, which will take me at least an hour. What would you like to do? Swim?” He nodded at the infinity pool that seemed to merge with the sea on the horizon.

Several brisk laps of the pool would surely douse the longing that ached through her.

She said, “Yes, that would be great—oh,
bother.”

“What?”

“I don’t have any togs with me,” she said, dismayed. “I knew I wouldn’t be swimming in England, so I didn’t take them with me, and although I collected some gear from home just now I didn’t think of togs.”

Negligently he said, “Swim in whatever you like. The pool isn’t overlooked by any other property, so you’ll be perfectly safe.”

Feeling rebuffed, Siena watched him walk away, all long, smoothly co-ordinated panther strides. Uncontrollable memories of the night they’d spent together in Hong Kong surged up from her wilful unconscious; she swallowed, took a couple of deep breaths, and switched her gaze to the water lapping in the pool.

She needed a swim desperately. It might cool her head—and the other parts of her body that were uncomfortably hot, as though Nick’s presence had set off a chain reaction of tiny electrical shocks.

And it looked hugely inviting out there—the shimmering blue pool surrounded by borders of lush tropical greenery and vivid blooms reflected back like lamps under the water. There was both a shady terrace and one for sun-lovers, furnished with elegantly comfortable recliners, several of them wide enough to take a couple.

He had the complete ensemble—the pool for burning off lust, she thought with a twist of excitement in the pit of her stomach, or recliners for surrendering to it.

Had he made love to anyone here?

No, she did not want to know the answer to that one—unless it was a negative. Even then, it was none of her business. But it took another deep breath and the
very firm squelching of a pang of jealousy before she got to her feet.

But neither the water nor a bout of fierce swimming cooled her emotions. Swimming in bra and pants wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it was better than lounging in the sun and mulling over things she was never going to ask Nick. Better still, it was a way of exhausting herself; surely physical effort would eventually quench the smouldering desire that ate away at her self-control, at her sense of herself?

Questions buzzed through her mind like angry bees. What did Nick intend? She still didn’t know, and he wasn’t giving anything away. Was he regretting the passion they’d shared? The long, maddened hours spent making love?

But there was one question she’d kept closeted in some dark recess of her brain. Now, at what she felt was a turning point in her life, she forced herself to face it.

Why had he made love to her so tenderly when she was nineteen, and then left her?

Had he been bored, or embarrassed by her inexperience?

And why hadn’t she asked him when they’d met again? Shame? Anger? Bewilderment? No, she admitted, stroking more slowly now, it had been fear.

She’d been afraid to ask because whatever answer he gave would hurt too much.

She wished now she’d asked her father more about Nick’s childhood, and then grimaced, because of course her father wouldn’t have told her.

If anyone were to, it would have to be Nick, and why should he? It was clearly still something he didn’t want to talk about.

In the end she scolded herself for being foolishly obsessive, and concentrated with all her will on her breathing, keeping her thoughts at bay by recounting her swimming coach’s instructions.

Until she lifted her streaming face from the water and saw Nick, already in the pool. Startled and suddenly shy, she sank beneath the water.

Seconds later a jerk on her arm opened her eyes wide as she shot to the surface, Nick’s hand locked almost painfully around her wrist.

“Are you all right?” His expression grim, he tipped her head back and examined her face. “What the hell were you doing?”

“Hiding,” she said succinctly, colour burning along her cheekbones.

He let his eyes drop, and something kindled in them, banishing the last of his concern. Loosening his grip, he asked quietly, “Why?”

“I didn’t expect to see you here.”

His brows drew together. “I live here, remember? And don’t tell me you’re afraid of me, because I won’t believe you.”

Of course she wasn’t afraid of him; she was afraid of what her aching, vulnerable heart might lead her to say … to do.

“It can’t be an hour since I got in the pool,” she accused, defiantly refusing to let her gaze linger on his broad, bronzed shoulders and chest.

“I cut things short. I also said I wouldn’t look, so you didn’t need to sink to the bottom.” The pause that followed gave his next words extra emphasis. “And you may be noticing that, apart from once, I’ve very nobly—and with great difficulty—refrained from anything
more than one glance, just to reassure myself you were still breathing.”

Colour burned through her skin, but before she could say anything, he went on with an edge to his tone, “Although why are you worrying? Not only have I seen every inch of your delectable body, I’ve kissed almost all of that exquisite skin. At the time, you didn’t seem to mind.”

S
IENA’S
eyes widened and colour flooded her skin as she searched in vain for some snappy comeback.

Nick’s laugh came from deep in his throat. “I didn’t know you could blush all over.”

“You said you wouldn’t look!” she accused, hot-cheeked and agitated.

“I’m only human. It’s like watching a white rosebud turn pink. Did you put sunscreen on?”

The abrupt shift from darkly sensual appreciation sent an odd little shiver though her. “Of course I did,” she muttered.

He turned her around and said, “But you can’t reach the centre of your back. I’ll get it.”

Siena watched him take two strokes to the side of the pool and haul himself out. Although he was wearing togs, they revealed far more than they hid as water streamed in sheets of silver light over a body honed and muscular, sleek yet powerful.

A disturbing mixture of excitement and apprehension churned beneath her ribs, as though she was about to take the biggest decision she’d ever made—a huge step into an unknown, exhilarating future, shadowed by the prospect of shattering pain.

But there would be no disillusion. Nick made no vows. It would be an honest relationship—on his part, she admitted.

Because she didn’t dare tell him she loved him. She suspected that if she did he’d close her out without even thinking about it.

Nick turned, catching her eyes on him. He looked quizzical, and there was an undertone she couldn’t place when he said, “What big eyes you have.”

“You know the answer to that one,” she said without thinking.
All the better to see you with …

His mouth hardened, then relaxed into a smile that promised everything she wanted, the satisfaction of all her desires—except the most important.

But love had no place here.

He said, “You need to dry your back before I put this on.”

“Yes,” she said, recklessly casting the dice.

Nick stooped and took her outstretched hands, pulling her easily out of the water. She glanced down and realised her bra was totally transparent, but even as colour surged back up he turned her away.

When his hands came to rest on her shoulders she shivered deliciously.

His grip loosened a fraction. “Cold?” he asked softly.

She licked her lips, then said on the same quiet note, “No.”

One finger eased beneath the catch of her bra. “Good. Because it would make things much easier if I took this off.”

Beneath the even, humorous tone of his voice she heard a raw note of authentic passion.

And everything came right in her world. She
relinquished every last scruple, because this was what she wanted. If she let her fears and concerns steer her away from Nick she’d always regret it. So she’d follow her heart.

She looked over her shoulder, the sensuous flutter at the base of her spine burning into a conflagration when she met his unfathomable green gaze.

A delicious languor melted her bones and she had to swallow and clear her throat before she could say huskily, “All right, then. Take it off.”

It was free in an instant, falling loosely around her. She dragged in a deep breath, her breasts rising and falling sharply at a light kiss on one shoulder. It lasted only a second, and desperate to feel his arms around her she began to swivel, only to squeak when his teeth grazed the place he’d just kissed.

“Siena?”

“Yes.” Nerves singing, she turned to look up at him.

His face angular and tightly controlled, he seemed to be waiting. Siena lifted her hand and placed the sensitive palm in the middle of his chest, where his heart was thudding heavily.

Breathy and sensuous, her voice startled her when she said, “You are magnificent.”

His gaze fell to her breasts. “So are you. Exquisite in every way.”

The impact of his scrutiny was like a caress, heating her skin, bringing the tight little tips of her breasts to full alert.

“Are you sure, Siena?”

She gestured vaguely. “Can’t you see?”

Adrenalin burned through her at the flare of dark fire in his eyes.

But he didn’t move. In a voice that came close to being guttural, he said, “I’ve been wanting this since Hong Kong.”

“So have I.”

His cheek creased in a smile that held wry amusement. “Idiots, both of us—although the wait was necessary.”

Siena nodded, hope stirring in the depths of her heart. He had understood feelings she barely recognised, the need to put her own stamp on the end of one relationship before she could give herself fully to another.

He said smoothly, “And if I carry you across to the lounger over there—” he was sweeping her into his arms as he spoke, making her squeak again and clutch his shoulders “—that white skin of yours will be protected from the sun, and the sunscreen can wait …”

Water slicked their skin, somehow linking them, so that when he deposited her on the broad length of one of the big recliners she felt abandoned—a feeling abruptly terminated when Nick came down beside her, his arms closing around her in a grip that didn’t feel as though he’d ever let go.

A fierce delight surged through her and her bra dropped unheeded to the ground. Here—in Nick’s arms—was the only place she ever wanted to be.

For long seconds they lay together, heart against heart, their pulses slowly synchronising until wonderingly she could hear and feel only one—a beat that increased yet again when he tilted her head back and looked into her eyes.

Siena’s breath came quickly through her parted lips. Nick’s face was drawn into a mask of passion, yet his
mouth on hers was almost gentle, as though afraid of hurting her.

Lost to desire, Siena closed her eyes and surrendered to the hunger uncoiling through her in a surge of hot, wildly sweet passion.

When he lifted his head she smiled, letting the air out of her lungs in a lingering sigh. Her lashes quivered against her cheeks; she didn’t look at him in case her eyes gave away her new-found love.

“Siena?”

Why did some lucky men have the sort of voice that made women’s toes curl? Deep and cool and spine-tingling … Desire—insistent, compelling—throbbed through her.

“Siena, look at me.”

She resisted for a few seconds longer before dragging in a fortifying breath and obeying him. “You keep saying that.”

“It’s so I can make some attempt to find out what you’re thinking.” Nick’s eyes were penetrating. “How did it feel to see Adrian Worth this morning?”

A chill ran through her. In the strong sanctuary of his arms her mindless surrender to passion would temporarily banish any thought of a future without Nick—would overwhelm everything beyond the hunger that ached through her in a surge of painful longing.

But she could feel the strength of his determination, a force she had no power to shatter. And she understood it was important to say what she had to say.

“Strange,” she told him unevenly. “Like looking at the old photos in my parents’ albums and realising how different I was then, how much I’ve changed since they were taken. How everything has changed.”

Adrian is the faded past,
she wanted to say;
you are the full-colour present.

But she couldn’t. She didn’t dare. Soon she might be an old photograph in Nick’s album, and she was just learning that without him there would be no more colour, no true pleasure in life. Her heart quailed.

“What is it?” Nick asked abruptly, his face intent, almost predatory. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” she said steadily. No matter how this ended, she’d go on, and she’d find satisfaction in her existence.

Loving Nick had changed her fundamentally. She had quite literally become a different woman from the one who’d thought she loved before. Against what she felt for Nick that illusory love had been weak and temporary—a practice run rather than the real thing.

She looked up into half-closed eyes, intent and glittering. Quietly she said, “Nothing’s the matter. Whatever we had wasn’t strong enough to meet any challenges. We’re not the same people we were when we got engaged, and I don’t love him any more. It’s gone, over, finished.”

“And how do you feel about that?” Nick probed relentlessly.