Paradise Found (5 page)

‘Looks like a celebration,' she said wryly.

‘Perhaps it is. Perhaps we're celebrating your not getting married.'

Her chin lifted. ‘It's only a postponement. Nothing's altered.'

‘If you say so.' Although his lips lay close together in a straight line, there was a blandness about his expression that hinted at inner laughter.

He was still wearing the jeans he'd put on that morning. The thrust of his hips, the arrogance of his stance, was powerfully potent. His shirt was fastened, but she remembered the masculine virility of that coarse curl of hair, and her fingers tingled again, wanting to—She slammed the door shut on that thought and hastily averted her eyes.

His earthy male sexuality attacked her senses. Though he hadn't put a hand on her, it was as if his fingers had curved around her throat. Breathing was difficult, and the resultant lack of oxygen in her lungs made her head swim. She knew that she had to get away from him for a moment to regain control of herself. In spite of the way her body was reacting to his nearness, she wasn't an empty-headed teenager anymore. She had been affected by his sensual magnetism once, had not put up a struggle against it, and in consequence had suffered the heartache of
rejection.
She had played this scene once and knew the score. To let him get close to her again was to invite a second dose of the pain.

But as her eyes came up again the words of excuse that she had been about to speak were half-strangled by the disturbing scrutiny of his gaze, which was centered on her lips. She had to fight him. Disregarding the aching tightness in her throat, she said, ‘I feel grimy. Do you mind if I freshen up before I start on the meal?'

‘Take your time. I intended to act as chef anyway.'

In her bedroom the world became a less rocky place, although she did have one bad moment when she saw her wedding gown, all ready to slip on, hanging on the outside of her wardrobe. She thought about bundling it back into its box but decided, that perhaps she needed it there as a reminder. Not the most strong-willed attitude, but still, she had never pretended to be heavy on resolution where Matt was concerned. Hoping that he would be different, that this time he wouldn't kiss and run, was on a par with wishing on the wind.

What foolish segment of her heart had been harboring that thought? The wind was changeable; Matt was not. And something else: If she were stupid enough to let there be a ‘this time', it wouldn't stop at kissing. He had walked away from a girl and come back to a woman.

She
stripped off her clothes, deciding to go whole hog and take a shower, hoping it would cool her senses. The tiny bathroom communicated with her bedroom, and she didn't bother to lock the door. Matt was too subtle to burst in on her. The cold water felt good on her skin. She emerged, shivering slightly, and gave herself a brisk rubdown, wrapping another towel round her, sarong-style, while she decided what to wear. The choice was limited because so many of her clothes had already gone to the new apartment and she didn't feel like dipping into her honeymoon suitcase. She could still put her hands on two favorite outfits, both influenced by Eastern culture. A Westernized version of the Japanese kimono and a silk pants and blousesuit in an Oriental peacock print. She selected the latter, thinking that she might be a little too accessible in the kimono, which was held in place only by a wide scarlet sash. Sometimes she cinched in the waist of the pants set with a wide belt, but this time she left the blouse to swing loose, letting its volume conceal her figure. In keeping with the Oriental look, she twisted the heavy length of her hair at the nape of her neck, securing it with pins in a figure-eight knot.

The aroma of steaks sizzling under the broiler met her nose when she went to join him. ‘M'mmm, that smells good.'

He took a couple of paces forward. ‘So do
you.
You don't look bad, either.'

Sidestepping that remark, and him, she worked her way round to the other side of the table. ‘I see you found everything all right,' indicating the place mats and cutlery.

‘Glasses defeated me.'

‘Ah, problem there. You won't find any. I'm afraid every glass I possess is packed and at the new apartment.

‘It'll have to be mugs then,' he said, unhooking two and then deftly twisting the champagne bottle to remove the cork.

‘It's sacrilege to drink champagne out of mugs,' she protested, yet she raised hers to her lips the moment it was filled.

‘Verdict?' he inquired.

‘It's gorgeous.' She had envisioned drinking champagne that night, but not with Matt.

‘I wouldn't drink too much until you've got some food in you,' he cautioned. ‘Your head will start floating away.'

She met the teasing laughter in his eyes and wondered if he knew that it already was—and taking her ability to think rationally with it. All the good that had been achieved by the short absence from his side was undermined the moment she came within his sphere again.

She occupied herself with tossing the salad while he transferred the steaks from the broiler pan to the plates.

He waited for her to sit down in old-fashioned deference to her femininity. He had
always
had a way of making a woman feel special. She tried to subdue that lifted-to-the-stars feeling. The higher you went, the greater the fall. Regardless, it was good to sit across a table from him again.

She told herself that she felt better when she'd eaten, more able to cope. They washed the dishes companionably, side by side, while waiting for the coffee to percolate. He'd drink his coffee and go. In a little while the ordeal would be over. She was reluctant to say that it had been easier than she had anticipated, but it was true. He hadn't offered to touch her, but she wouldn't feel out of the woods until he was on the other side of her door.

‘Where would you have been now, Zoe, but for events?'

‘Portugal,' she said.

‘Poor Tony. I don't consider a hospital bed a fair swap for a matrimonial bed. And poor little you, contemplating spending the night alone, on what should have been your wedding night, the first night, as it used to be delicately called. Rather an obsolete expression in these days of anticipating marriage. Perhaps you did the same and so your disappointment won't be as keen.'

‘Perhaps.' She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing otherwise. ‘Anticipating marriage—that too has a deliciously, old-fashioned flavor to it in these days of sexual freedom. It's late,' she said, springing to her
feet.
‘I think you should go.'

‘If that's what you want,' he said, setting down his coffee cup and lazily standing up.

He stood facing her but made no offer to go, just looked into her eyes for a long tormenting moment. She knew he was going to kiss her, she wasn't going to be let off without that; and to her horror it came to her that she didn't want to be.

‘I never before realized how very sensuous a woman could look entirely covered up to the neck. It's much more seductive than a neckline slashed to the waist, the kind that leaves little to the man's own imagination.'

‘Cut the talk, Matt.'

‘You prefer the action?'

‘No, that's not what I meant. Stop it, Matt.'

‘Stop what? I'm not doing anything.'

‘You do more when you're not doing anything than any man I know.'

‘Don't you like the way I look at you?'

‘No, I don't.' Neither did she like the husky pitch of his voice; it grated on her senses. Nor the way she wondered if his sons would inherit his dark good looks and proud way of standing with his shoulders back, hips tilted slightly forward and powerful legs splayed at an angle, wondered with a tiny ache low in her stomach that increased as she remembered that the obligatory wife to provide legitimate sons was not in Matt's plan.

She pressed her lips tightly together,
catching
the fullness of her lower lip in her teeth. She did it to ease the dryness; she saw his eyes narrow on the movement but only wondered if he found it provocative when she saw him lift his arm and drag the back of his hand across his own mouth.

Instead of replacing the hand by his side, he let his fingers curl round her neck to draw her gently forward, and although the intolerable wait was over, the teasing had only just begun.

His parted lips moved over her forehead, glancing down her temple and following the outer curve of her cheek. Her lips moved compulsively to meet that kiss, but he defeated them by dropping his own lower to brush across her throat in a series of butterfly caresses that left her insensible. She twisted uselessly to nullify the intensity of what she was feeling. When she felt that she couldn't take it a moment longer the teasing stopped and his mouth clamped over hers. It was like a promise fulfilled, and she reveled in it. Her whole being was centered on the joy of that kiss, and his strategy went unnoticed. Her mind was closed to everything but the sensation of his lips on hers, and so she was barely aware of the hand creeping under the looseness of her blouse to close over her breast. It seemed to swell at his touch, its thrusting tip delighting at the abrasion of his thumb. She knew she should push him away, but she couldn't. Nothing else mattered but
this
ecstasy. His free hand roved over her back, tingling her shoulders and her spine, exciting her hips and bringing her so deliriously close to him that her physical need was almost too acute to bear.

‘You don't have to be alone tonight. You don't have to be deprived.'

His voice was barely audible through the mists of her desire. Mists of insanity, more like it. She slumped in his arms, all that intensity of feeling shriveling into a tight knot in her throat.

‘No, Matt.' Could that cold voice possibly belong to her?

‘No?'

‘There's something you seem to have forgotten. I'm wearing another man's ring.'

‘I'm not the only one who forgot that.'

‘That's true, and I'm ashamed.'

‘You don't have to be, Zoe.'

‘Don't have to be?' she gasped incredulously. ‘Don't try to explain that, Matt. I don't think you could.'

‘If that's so, it's not for the reasons you think.'

She didn't believe that. Nothing could justify her behavior. He knew she was right; he had just said that to save face. She was furious with him for his part in what had happened and even more furious with herself for letting herself feel that way about him, for enjoying his caresses. Some of that fury turned back on
him.
Her driving need was to punish.

She laughed. Even to her own ears it sounded unnaturally high and brittle. ‘I'm so sorry, Matt.'

‘Sorry?' he queried, frowning.

‘Tony being in hospital is only part of my guilt. I feel ashamed for using you. You hit the nail on the head a bit too accurately. Tonight should have been my wedding night, and I felt angry at having to spend it on my own. A woman dreams about that, even if it isn't a new experience.' She couldn't resist that. Then, on a softer, extra hurtful note, ‘Perhaps
because
it isn't a new experience. So you see, when you started messing around, I thought, why should I be deprived? But it wouldn't be fair to use you because the man I really want isn't available.'

He didn't say a word. He looked as if he didn't trust himself to open his mouth. His anger was like a black volcano ready to erupt. He turned on his heel and left.

It didn't occur to her to wonder how he would get home, but the knowledge came to her anyway when she heard the urgent revving up of an engine. Of course, he'd taken her car.

It was a long time before she managed to drag herself into her bedroom and, ultimately, to bed. The pressures left from the day were unbelievable. Her wedding hadn't taken place. Her bridegroom lay in a hospital. And what should have been her wedding night had
almost
been consummated by another man.

CHAPTER THREE

Matt arrived in her car the next day in time for the afternoon visit to the hospital. The pattern of the previous day was followed. Matt, who drove, parked her car where she had parked it the day before. Nerissa was waiting in the house for them, and Matt drove them to the hospital in his car. If Nerissa noticed the below-zero coldness between Zoe and Matt, she tactfully refrained from making any comment.

Tony was obviously still in considerable pain, despite the influence of painkillers, and Zoe, who was not a very demonstrative type of person in public, surprised even herself by holding his hand in an extra loving way and kissing him with the kind of warmth better saved for private moments. She couldn't make up her mind who disapproved most, Matt or Nerissa.

On the way back they talked between themselves, leaving her feeling curiously isolated. When they arrived at the house Nerissa said, ‘Are you coming in, Zoe?' Zoe was on the point of saying no. Perhaps that was obvious from her expression, because then Nerissa said, ‘I think you should. Practicalities
will
have to be discussed. In any case, there seems little point in your making the journey to your apartment and then coming back here in time to make the evening visit to the hospital. You may as well stay and have tea with us.'

It seemed a rather grudging invitation, but Zoe concurred. Though how practicalities could be discussed without Tony there was a puzzle to her.

Zoe half expected Matt to decline afternoon tea, but he accepted a cup and she was conscious of his eyes on her when he sat down at the other end of the sofa.

Nerissa settled into her favorite chair on the other side of the long occasional table. ‘Now, about the arrangements,' she said, opening the discussion.

‘If it's about when a new wedding date can be set, I feel that it's something which Tony and I should decide on our own,' Zoe said firmly.