‘Come now, Eloise.’ He was almost purring as he pulled her on to his lap. ‘I turn you on, admit it.’
Torture by a thousand cuts wouldn’t make her admit to that! The predatory smile on his face and the fact they were isolated by flood water suddenly alarmed her. Even the telephone was disabled. What if he …? Ellie swallowed and closed her mind over the word that entered her head.
She became acutely aware that she wore nothing but a short satin slip under her robe.
He
was wearing even less. His robe had parted, and the soft curves of her buttocks yielded to the harder columns of his thighs. Every individual hair seemed sensitized by the filmy material of her attire, as if reminding her of his gender. Against the side of her leg another reminder of his gender. Soft and warm, one wrong move on her part would turned the sleeping giant into a marauding warrior.
‘Let me go, Patrick,’ she pleaded, trying to ignore the steamy sensation of his breath penetrating the fabric of her nightdress.
How
could
she ignore it? It was bathing her nipples in hot and cold. A warm sauna when he breathed out, a cool shower when he breathed in. She wished he’d stop breathing. It was deliciously tantalizing, but bad for her libido.
‘No way, angel.’ The sauna swept upwards, his lips coming to rest against the hollow of her throat. ‘If you give a man a love-potion you must be prepared to sample the consequences.’ A paroxysm of shivers attacked her spine as his tongue feathered the hollow. His voice dropped to a husky murmur. ‘You smell delicious. Is it some sort of aphrodisiac you’ve whipped up for my benefit?’
She became aware that an aphrodisiac was not needed as his hand caressed a silken journey from her thigh and came to rest on her hip bone. His fingers fanned in all directions, each bent on their own distraction. Both her stomach and waist hollowed obligingly under the attack.
God!
She gasped as one of his fingers just brushed her in the most sensitive spot. She couldn’t remember moving within his reach.
‘Stop!’
Her hand came down on his and missed. He was moving it towards her breast. It kept moving as hers came down over it.
‘I like a women who participates.’
She
wasn’t
participating but she couldn’t tell him that. His mouth had cut off her power of speech. His tongue became a poisoned dart, drugging her into lethargy, his finger- tips, wandering minstrels that made her body sing. She didn’t want it to sing to
his
tune, she wanted
him
to sing to hers.
Desperately she tried to peel the hand from her breast. Like an octopus its tentacles clung. Taking the only option open to her Ellie bit into his lip.
His oath was aptly suited to his intent. Although the bite had a beneficial effect, she knew from the pressure on her thigh that the benefit had mostly been his.
‘You play rough.’ Clasping her under the buttocks he stood up and kicked the chair from under them. His eyes were dark with passion and he gave an evil grin as he backed her towards the wall. ‘What are you waiting for my green-eyed little witch. Don’t be shy.’
Ellie closed her eyes to block out his lascivious expression. Held close against the temptation of his body, her mind refused to obey what seemed a natural progression to a perfect position under the circumstances. She didn’t want to be coupled in lust like a whore. She wanted tenderness. Tears squeezed from under her lids. ‘Don’t do this, Patrick,
please
.’
His fingers tangled in her hair, pulled her head back. Her eyes opened in protest at the discomfort, and encountered a hostile expression. ‘Say again?’
‘Please don’t.’ Damn, her teeth were chattering. ‘I ... don’t have any ... protection.’
His eyes hooded over and the tip of his tongue slid slowly over his bruised lip. ‘Why not?’
Why not? It was obvious why not. Did he think her the type who carried protection in her bag in case of a chance encounter with every randy male she met? Her eyes met his and her lip curled. He was a typical example of male carelessness. He’d had his fun without commitment, without thought. The result was Todd. If he was so overbearingly arrogant to believe every woman took the pill as a matter of course, he could think again.
‘Why don’t you?’
‘It wasn’t me who initiated this.’ He smiled gently as his eyes scanned her tear-stained face. Patrick was in complete control of himself. ‘Any man would jump at what you’re offering.’ She formed a strong suspicion he’d just attempted to teach her a lesson.
‘I’m not offering anything.’
Her nightgown had ridden up, and Patrick’s hands were warm against the cushions they supported. They were brands burning into her flesh. Ellie wanted to grin when the irreverent thought of wearing two permanent handprints came into her mind.
That
would take some explaining. Her dangling feet scratched at his shins. ‘Put me down, Patrick. I got your message loud and clear. Besides ... you’re not doing yourself any favors.’
‘Nor you.’ Lowering her to the floor he pushed her to arms length, then grinned before opening the door to the hall. ‘How about conjuring up a pot of tea. I think you and I need to talk.’
He’d gone to cool his ardor with a shower. Ellie could hear the water running as she filled the kettle and set out the tea things. Scruff descended from the shelf and wove ingratiating little circles round her ankles when she opened the refrigerator for the milk.
‘Traitor,’ she accused, topping up his saucer. ‘If it hadn’t been for you this wouldn’t have happened.’ Her glance lit on the disposition elixir then went down to the cat. ‘Just a teaspoon in the interest of science wouldn’t hurt you,’ she murmured. ‘You owe me.’
Patrick was back within minutes. The damp circles of hair visible at the vee of his robe clung damply to his skin. Ellie gave him a nervous glance as he took a chair at the opposite end of the table.
‘You don’t have to worry.’ His smile was whipped cream and made her more nervous. ‘Vera’s a friend of mine. I’m not about to force myself on her niece.’ He picked up his cup and sniffed at it suspiciously. ‘This isn’t doctored with anything, is it?’
‘Strychnine.’
A mental image painted a skull and crossbones on the sugar basin. Ellie watched him add two scoops to his cup. Any minute now he’d turn black and curl around the edges. Her eyes narrowed as he took a couple of tentative sips. She jumped when he clutched his stomach, gave a realistic groan and fell sideways off the chair.
‘Shut up, Patrick.’ Determined not to laugh when he leapt to his feet, Ellie picked up her cup and swallowed a mouthful of tea. ‘If you’re going to rub it in, I’m going to bed. I feel stupid enough as it is.’
‘So you should. Vera will have a fit when she finds out what you’ve been up too.’ Patrick’s smile was smugly satisfied when he leaned back in his chair.
‘You’re going to tell her I dosed you up with love potion?’ Amused, Ellie burst out laughing. Her seventy-year-old aunt was disconcertingly off-beat. She’d thoroughly approve of the action. ‘Go ahead. If she thought I wanted
you
she’d make a stronger one and drip-feed it to you.’
‘If you detest me so much why did you do it in the first place?’
‘It wasn’t intended for you, Patrick.’ She could have bitten her tongue off when comprehension dawned in his eyes.
‘Let me see ... ?’ Her heart sank when his wicked expression returned. ‘You were all dressed up when I arrived. You were expecting my brother, I believe.’ Her heightened color endorsed his speculation. Slanting his head to one side he appeared to think. ‘Yes ... Andrew has a gift for attracting women. The trouble is, green-eyes, you’re not his type, and he’s
definitely
not yours.’
‘Really?” The frosty look she bestowed on him changed to alarm when he elaborated.
‘You’re more
my
type.’
He made her sound like a blood donation. At the stroke of midnight his fangs would descend and pierce her jugular vein. Goodbye Ellie Bryce. She gave a delicate shiver. ‘You weren’t born in Transylvania by any chance?’
‘Glamorgan, in Wales.’ There were no fangs evident in his smile, just a row of perfectly even teeth. This man displayed everything desirable in a male, except ...? Ellie wanted to gnash her teeth in frustration. He was a law unto himself. He’d expect a woman to subjugate herself.
‘What makes you think I’m your type?’ She hoped he didn’t think she was fishing for a compliment when she was merely curious as to his reasoning.
‘I like your independent quality.’ That blew her theory out of the window. ‘You’d treat your partner as an equal instead of a meal ticket.’
There must be a catch. Ellie warily recalled her relationship with David Lessingham. That had started as an equal partnership. They’d kept their living arrangements separate, their relationship private. Weekends were spent at his flat, or at a country hotel.
‘It’s better that way,’ David had said. ‘Your father’s my boss. He wouldn’t like you involved in speculation.’
David had been her first serious male friend. His blonde good looks, his sophistication, had completely bowled her over. In her naiveté she’d been led to expect more than a one-sided love affair. She remembered the callous remark he’d made the last time they’d met. She’d been in tears after he told her he was going abroad the next day.
‘Put it down to experience, Ellie. It’s time for me to move on, marriage doesn’t figure in my plans now the company’s gone bust.’
Equal partners? Where did equality begin and end? In bed? A tight smile stretched across her lips. ‘Explain your idea of equality to me, Patrick.’
‘Give and take.’ Patrick shrugged, seemingly uncertain. ‘You would demand back as much as you put into a relationship.’
‘Is that wrong?’
‘Did I say it was?’ Finishing his tea he stood up. ‘I’m trying to point out that Andrew wouldn’t be able to give you that. He takes the line of least resistance. You’d walk all over him and hate him for it.’
‘But
you
wouldn’t let me.’ His strength of mind seemed to match her own and she felt a sneaking admiration for it.
‘No, I most certainly wouldn’t.’ He leaned over and kissed the top of her head. ‘But before you start getting ideas, I’m not in the market for a women, and if I were you’d be well out of my league.’ His smile was almost a grimace as it landed on the book. ‘Next time you weave a spell, aim for a man who can give you the lifestyle you’re accustomed too. This one can’t afford expensive trinkets.’
His description of her blew her mind. Who asked? What did money have to do with love anyway? Patrick suffered from inverted snobbery. Some devil in her made her rub it in.
‘I could afford a trinket like you, Patrick.’ Eyes loaded with mischief she ignored his frown. ‘I could set you up in a
pied-a-terre
in Melbourne. In return you could escort me to social functions, and ...?’
Take this you dishy blue-eyed monster!
‘ … you could perform duties as required.’
‘That’s enough, Ellie!’ How harsh his voice sounded. ‘You’re coming across as cheap.’
‘Make up your mind.’ Her eyes collided with his as she stood and faced him across the table. ‘A minute ago I was classified as an expensive trinket. If you can’t take the heat don’t dish it out, Patrick.’
‘I keep forgetting you believe in reciprocal arrangements.’ Amusement flared in his eyes, as though he’d seen the humor in the situation. Even so, they remained challenging. She discovered why two seconds later. ‘You’re on. I accept your offer.’
‘What?’ Very funny, Patrick she silently fumed.
I suppose you expect me to renege on it. Be damned if I will. It’s you who can eat crow.
‘What about Todd?’
‘Where I go, Todd goes.’
Knees feeling weak Ellie subsided back in a chair and stared dumbly at him.
‘Of course … if you don’t want him?’
Don’t raise an eyebrow at me, you unprincipled rogue!
His shoulders were shaking with laughter now, his chuckles coming one after the other. He could laugh on the other side of his face for all she cared. ‘I’d love to have Todd.’ Ellie raised a smile of her own when Patrick’s laughter stopped. ‘He can come to the child-minding center with me whilst you do the housework. He’ll enjoy having other kids to play with.’
Speculation narrowed Patrick’s eyes, his voice was softly menacing. ‘I guess he would at that. Right. You’re on, Eloise. I have a couple of jobs lined up after this one, then I’ll be all yours.’ He was heading for the door when he turned and smiled. ‘I’ll let you know when I’m free.’
‘Sure he would.’
She grinned at the specious statement. Patrick had maneuvered himself into a corner, and then deftly climbed through a crack. He’d be ninety-nine and confined to a wheelchair before he showed up.
* * * *
Ellie woke to rain pounding on the metal roof. Todd’s bed was empty, and instinct told her she’d slept in. Her run-in with Patrick the night before had resulted in a rush of adrenaline. After he’d gone to bed she’d remembered the washing machine was still full of jeans, her dresses still soaking in the sink.
The washing machine had been choked with paper, money, and bits of tissue from the pockets she’d forgotten to empty. It had taken an hour to pick off each individual piece before hanging the pants on a rack in the kitchen to dry.
Her Liz Davenport had turned out to be beyond hope, but she was still optimistic of saving the white dress. She’d spread the money and paper on the bench to dry, tidied up the kitchen, and gone to bed about three.
Feeling decidedly lethargic, she was about to turn over and grab another forty winks when a knock at the door drove the foolish notion from her head.
‘I thought it was time you were awake.’
The man had an in-built radar system. It was a pity his thought hadn’t coincided with her intention. He also had two steaming mugs on a tray. Ellie regarded him in a more kindly light.
‘Todd said you’re a grouch without two cups of tea to start the day.’ He grinned as she struggled upright and silently held out her hand for it. ‘You look as though you had a night on the tiles.’