Beaumont Brides Collection (106 page)

Jack Wolfe shifted uncomfortably. ‘Stop it, Mel.’ She managed to look puzzled. ‘I think you’ve demonstrated that your imagination is in full working order, but the joke has gone quite far enough.’

She regarded him from beneath lowered lids. Not quite. Not quite. ‘That’s why you’re wooing me, of course. For my family connections. And my money. You’ve lured me to paradise in the hopes of getting me to say “I do” beneath a tropical moon before anyone can convince me of the error of my ways. I know they do beach weddings here,’ she said. ‘I saw some photographs in reception.’

Jack almost choked. ‘You’re worth marrying for your money?’

‘Would you doubt it?’

‘I hope I’m gentleman enough to believe that your body would be inducement enough.’

‘How sweet,’ she said, thoroughly enjoying the moment. ‘But I’m afraid it’s definitely the money. After all, I’m here with you, sharing a romantic beach cottage, so you see as far as the world is concerned my body is already yours.’

She spread her hands in a gesture that indicated she had finished, inviting his response. She rather hoped he would be lost for words, but he wasn’t.

‘I think you’d better tell me more about your very interesting family, Mel. If they’re to come racing to the rescue I’d like to know what to expect. Your father, for instance. Is he likely to be wielding a shotgun?’

She leaned forward and lowered her voice in a confidential manner. ‘It’s my uncle you’ll have to watch out for. He’s been in loco parentis for as long as I can remember and inclined to be protective. As for Dad, well, he’s still on his honeymoon, so you’re safe from him. For the moment.’

He held up his hand, finally reduced to laughter. ‘That’s enough. You’ll be telling me next that you’re pursued by every impoverished young man in the land.’

‘Will I? Actually, you’d be amazed at the really rich ones who quite fancy me too.’

‘I beginning to think I’m beyond further surprises. Tell me, have you never been in the least bit tempted by any of them?’

‘Heaven’s no,’ she declared. ‘I’m an only child -’

‘Excepting the two half-sisters and a step-sister?’

‘- and shockingly spoilt which is why, despite all the dire warnings of my family and friends, I’ve chosen to risk my heart on a scoundrel who will undoubtedly break it. Any man who used a girl to cover a doubtful business enterprise would have to be a scoundrel, wouldn’t he?’ she asked, very gently.

His jaw tightened slightly and suddenly he wasn’t laughing any more. ‘Doubtful?’

‘Why else would you need camouflage, Jack?’

‘That’s enough, Mel.’

‘You don’t like your role?’

‘Make up your own stories if you like. Leave me out of it.’ He had begun to enjoy her game until he was cast as the villain, she realized with interest. Had she struck a raw nerve?

‘But all the best stories have a villain,’ she explained. And the best villains were dangerous, exciting men who could curl a girl’s toes with a twitch of a brow, the suspicion of a smile.

‘Maybe. Perhaps you should consider a career writing dizzy romances instead of trying to make it on the stage.’

Dizzy, eh? Mel lay her hand on her heart. ‘But it was the truth,’ she said, earnestly. ‘Every word. Didn’t I convince you?’

‘To be honest, Mel, it’s frightening how convincing you were.’ He regarded her with something like pity. ‘For a moment there-’ He looked up as the waiter approached with their food.

‘Yes?’ Mel encouraged, her eyes sparkling at this evidence of her success.

For a moment he said nothing as doubt gnawed at him. Then he shrugged.

‘It seems that you’re a far better actress than I gave you credit for.’ Good enough to blush on cue? He turned away as the waiter began to serve them, unwilling to let her see how much her charade had irritated him. Then his frown deepened. ‘Don’t look now, but someone’s staring at you.’

‘One of my many fans I have no doubt,’ Mel said, flippantly enough, but nevertheless a nervous quiver rippled her spine. A fan was a complication she could do without. ‘What does he look like?’

‘Mid to late fifties, hair greying at the temples, exquisitely tanned. One of those thoroughly distinguished English gentlemen that you wouldn’t trust with your daughter.’

‘As bad as that?’

‘Don’t look,’ Jack said, catching at her wrist as she began to turn. Mel jumped as if branded and for a moment their eyes locked. Then, very carefully, Jack opened his fingers and let her go. It made no difference. The heat was still there, burning right through her. ‘He’s still staring,’ he said, with studied carelessness. ‘You wouldn’t want to give him any encouragement?’ Or would she? Was this her contact? ‘Would you?’ he pressed.

‘Perish the thought.’

‘My sentiments exactly.’ He indicated her plate. ‘That looks good,’ he said, as if determined to return the conversation to the mundane.

‘It is,’ she replied, wondering whether a comment about the weather would help. She didn’t risk it, but tucked in with sufficient gusto to suggest that she could manage without conversation of any kind for the time being.

For a while he respected her silence, but it was too good to last and when she shook her head at the offer of a pudding, he obviously considered he had been forbearing for quite long enough.

‘Would you like to dance?’ The question was obviously rhetorical since he stood up without waiting for her answer. For a moment she considered declining so that he would have to sit down again, but that would be petty and besides she liked dancing.

‘Will I have to brave my fan?’ she asked.

‘No. He didn’t stay. You’re quite safe.’

That was a matter of opinion, but as they danced on the terrace to the lively rhythm of a local band she decided to forget everything but the fact that the music was good, the night beautiful and by the time the music had changed tempo and Jack drew her closer, Mel had no difficulty at all in laying her head against his shoulder.

‘You know, I rather like it here,’ she said, as she nestled sleepily against him.

‘I’m glad to hear it.’

‘I could almost like you, too.’

He drew back and looked down at her, his shadowed face masking a thoughtful expression. ‘The feeling is mutual, Cinderella, but if you don’t get to bed soon you’ll be asleep on your feet.’

Mel was tired. It had been a long day. ‘Horses sleep on their feet, did you know that?’ she asked him as, with his arm about her shoulders, he led her from the terrace.

‘I had heard. I wouldn’t advise it in your case.’

‘Can we walk back along the beach?’

‘I don’t think so.’

But she giggled and standing on tiptoe, whispered loudly in his ear. ‘But isn’t that what lovers would do?’

He stared down at her. ‘Just how much champagne did you drink, Mel?’

‘Two glasses,’ she replied, without hesitation.

He was sceptical. ‘And the rest.’

‘No.’ She was adamant. ‘I never drink more than two glasses. It goes to my head, you see.’

‘I do see. Especially when combined with jetlag. I’ll make a note for future reference,’ he said, turning her firmly in the direction of the path back to the cottage.

Mel resisted. ‘No, it’s this way to the beach.’

A couple passed them, throwing them an indulgent glance as they went. Jack Wolfe was not accustomed to being indulged and he didn’t like it. Besides, walking along a beach hand in hand with a girl as desirable as Mel Devlin when he was sleeping on the sofa was, in his opinion, above and beyond the call of duty.

Not that she was in any state to stop him sharing the bed.

But until he knew a little more about her, he preferred to wait until she did the inviting before he climbed into the four-poster beside her, even when sleep was the only item on the agenda.

‘Forget the beach,’ he said, roughly, and without warning he picked her up and strode towards the cottage.

Mel, opened her mouth to protest, then deciding that being carried was every bit as enjoyable as walking on the soft sand, she changed her mind, wrapped her arms about Jack Wolfe’s neck, closed her eyes and fell asleep.

Jack Wolfe, his arms full of the most unexpectedly enchanting creature he’d met in years, gave a wry little smile. They might be in paradise, but Eve was apparently beyond temptation. At least for tonight.

CHAPTER TEN

MELANIE, opening her eyes to early morning sunlight was, for just a moment lost. Then remembering where she was, she smiled and stretched beneath the luxurious canopy of the four-poster secure in the knowledge that she didn’t have to scramble out of bed this morning and fight her away across London in a crowded tube train.

‘Do you always wake up happy, or is it the prospect of a week in my company that makes you smile like that.’

Her smile was rapidly replaced with an expression of horror as, sitting bolt upright, Mel discovered that she had an audience, had apparently had one for some time judging by the relaxed manner in which Jack Wolfe was stretched out across the foot of the bed, his back propped against one of the posts, his bare legs crossed, a cup of tea balanced on the palm of his hand.

‘What the devil do you think you’re doing in here?’ she demanded.

Jack grinned. ‘Taking refuge. I didn’t want to be caught sleeping on the sofa by the maid when she brought the tea. A thing like that causes gossip.’ He raised his cup. ‘Can I pour one for you?’

‘Isn’t it a bit early, even for early morning tea?’ Mel asked, pulling the sheet up to her chin, quite unnecessarily in view of the demure nature of her nightwear. ‘Under the circumstances.’

‘There’s no compulsion to get up but since the circumstances would seem to preclude all the more entertaining possibilities of spending the time, I thought you might like a swim before breakfast.’

She relaxed a little. ‘That’s the first good idea you’ve had since I dropped that duster at your feet.’

‘I don’t know about that,’ he demurred. ‘When it comes to thinking on my feet I believe I’ve had an unexpectedly good week so far.’ Of course he could be kidding himself.

She watched uncertainly, as Jack eased himself off the bed and poured her a cup of tea from the tray, handing it to her before retrieving bathing trunks from a drawer and heading for the bathroom. He reappeared a few moments later wearing it and a towel around his shoulders, nothing else and Melanie decided that all her fantasies about his body had been right. It was sun darkened and teak hard.

‘I’ll see you on the beach,’ he said, heading for the door. Then he turned and paused in the opening. ‘Oh, and before you join me please hide that thing you’re wearing.’

‘Thing?’ Mel looked down at her t-shirt, anywhere to avoid the almost magnetic lure of the black strip of cloth bisecting his narrow hips. She swallowed. ‘I’ll have you know that this is my favourite nightshirt.’

‘Really? Well it takes all sorts, I suppose, but I’d hate to frighten the chambermaid.’

‘Why would it frighten the chambermaid?’

‘It frightened the hell out of me.’

‘You?’ She glanced down at it, her forehead creased in a tiny frown.

‘Don’t be long, darling. It’s a beautiful morning.’ With that he was gone and the room seemed suddenly very empty.

Mel sipped her tea slowly, then knowing she wouldn’t be disturbed by her very disturbing companion, took her time about covering as much of herself as she could manage with a high factor sun cream.

It was pure luxury not to be in a rush. A simple pleasure, one that she could never have anticipated when every morning had begun in this leisurely manner.

She hesitated for a moment between two bathing suits, then chose a demure one piece in colours like those of the beckoning sea, pale turquoise at the shoulders, darkening to midnight blue at the hips. She brushed out her hair, slipped her feet into a pair of sandals and taking a towel from the bathroom followed Jack down onto the beach.

The sand was soft and white and she immediately abandoned the sandals, longing to feel it between her toes as she walked, lifting her face to the fresh breeze coming in off the sea. After the weeks of mind-numbing drudgery she felt suddenly released and foolishly grateful to Jack for his trickery. Not that she was about to tell him that.

Jack hadn’t waited for her on the beach. She could see his dark head as he cut through the water in an economical and decisive over arm stroke. So, the wolf could swim as well as bite. The thought disturbed her for a moment, then, as the warmth of the sun began to heat her shoulders, she dropped her towel and ran across the sand eager to throw herself into the curling Atlantic rollers. For a few minutes she swam vigorously, enjoying the warmth and clarity of the water.

After a while she paused for breath, treading water, looking about her for Jack. He was nowhere to be seen and she looked towards the beach half expecting to see him standing there, laughing at her.

Somehow he was always laughing at her. It was empty but for a couple of youths raking the tide line. She turned in the water, looking about her, seized by a sudden anxiety at his disappearance.