To Deceive Is To Love (Romantic suspense) (12 page)

She felt embarrassed by her intrusion. His tone had been almost an accusation; highlighted further when he reached across the desk and grabbed a letter which she could just make out was handwritten. Folding it, he placed it into an equally worn and badly creased envelope.

“I’m sorry. If you bring me my clothes and ring a taxi for me, I’ll be on my way.” She kept her eyes lowered and her arms folded across her chest. Slowly, the cold and rising ache in her leg began to take hold.

“Well, you won’t find them in here, as you can see.” He waved his arm about as if to demonstrate the point. “This is a study that I’m in the process of clearing out or was until…” He faltered, his gaze on the envelope in his hand. “It’s surprising what comes to light when you decide to rid yourself of the past. Papers, trivia that you think were thrown away long ago suddenly turn up in a filing cabinet or pushed to the back of a drawer.”

“David, are you okay?”

He jumped up. “I’m sorry. It’s you I should be asking about.” He dragged over a tea chest and insisted she sit down.

Relieved, Chantelle flopped onto it ungracefully. “Some house you’re leaving behind. Where are you moving to?”

He stood looking down at her. “Abroad. This was never a home; it’s been rented out on a yearly basis until I put it up for sale. This room remained untouched and locked, waiting for the day I would finally rid myself of the past.” He moved away from her and went over to the window, his voice becoming more and more detached. “I didn’t even want the damn house. It was a legacy from my father. My mother wasn’t too happy, but then she’s wealthy in her own right and certainly didn’t deserve any more than what she got.”

“That’s a bit harsh.” Chantelle couldn’t help the comment.

He turned away from the window and walked back to her. “As his wife, she should have understood, helped him get through the loss of a career he loved so much. Instead she turned her back on him, the one she claimed she’d love till death do they part. Well, he helped her out on that score.”

“David!” She wanted to snap him out of the melancholy mood that had taken over.

“I’m sorry, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

He smiled. “Now, let’s get you something to eat and no protests.”

Immediately, he bent down and scooped her up in his arms and carried her out of the room, down the corridor and into a kitchen Chantelle’s whole flat would fit into. He placed her down on the edge of the oak farmhouse kitchen table. Her surroundings were very traditional, with a wooden dresser covering an entire wall. An Agar cooker provided a feeling of warmth and homeliness, a complete contrast from the other rooms she had viewed.

“How do bacon, eggs, fried bread and tomatoes sound to you?”

“A recipe for a heart attack, but what the hell? I’m starved.”

“I do have muesli somewhere in this cupboard if you prefer.”

Chantelle screwed up her nose in response. Sliding down from the table, she sat on one of the wooden kitchen chairs. Curiously, she watched David as he made her breakfast.

He was obviously used to multitasking. He fried the bacon, made a pot of tea, set the table and whistled while he did it. With his shirt unbuttoned to his waist, she could see the fine line of dark hair that rose from his navel and spread sparingly over smooth, bronzed chest muscle. One word of encouragement and she would be back in his arms again, her self-respect in tatters.

Pouring the tea, David served their meals and sat across from her. Conversation had been stilted until now, limited to how did she like her bacon and did she take her tea with sugar. Watching as he picked up his knife and fork, she found herself hesitating, her fingers resting on the cutlery.

David’s fork stopped short of his mouth with a mushroom suspended from it. “Don’t tell me you’ve lost your appetite.”

She gave a small smile. “No, it’s just that I haven’t thanked you yet for coming to my rescue. From what I can remember, I was pretty rude to you last night.”

“If you were, it was justified. Now eat before it gets cold and Chantelle” -- gentle amusement entered his eyes -- “It’s not often I get to undress a lady and act the perfect gentleman at the same time.”

“I should think your girlfriend would have more to say on that subject.” She bit into her lower lip and looked questioningly back at him.

He placed his knife and fork down. “I don’t have a girlfriend, wife or lover at present. Catherine, who you had the unfortunate and untimely introduction to, has a husband and her playthings. I was one of the latter.”

“Was or still are?”

“Do I detect an interest in my availability or am I about to be met with verbal condemnation?” He was teasing her now, his eyes challenging a response.

“Depends on your answer.”

“You have my full confession. I made the mistake of bedding a married woman, just the one; the rest I believe were single at the time. Now, let’s hear yours.”

Stalling, Chantelle pushed her empty plate to one side and dabbed her mouth. She might not have had as many lovers as him, since he had eight years advantage on her, but the ones she had were not exactly lasting memories. Commitment she had always felt was a weakness and so she held back, preferring to break and run if a relationship was getting too heavy. It was unpleasant to think she was not unlike him in some ways.

“You’ve gone very quiet on me.”

“I never kiss and tell.”

“Why did you stop me?” His tone turned serious and his hand reached out and touched hers. “We both felt it, wanted it. I’m no fool when it comes to reading signals. But then you froze on me. Is that a regular occurrence on your part?”

“Do you mean, am I a tease? Frigid? Or maybe I went off the idea of being a quick screw in a hotel room?” Chantelle pushed her chair back and went to stand up, forgetting all about her ankle. “Damn.” She gripped the table, taking the pressure off.

Immediately David was by her side. Turning her around to face him, he hoisted her back onto the table’s edge. “I don’t want to fight with you; it was a question I’ve been burning to ask to see if you felt the same way. That no, it wouldn’t have been merely a quick screw, lay or whatever cheap word you want to call it. I think we both know that.”

He clasped her face in his hands, his mouth coming down to meet hers. Slow and leisurely at first, his tongue traced the outline of her lips before parting them to plunge deeper, a possessiveness that was both needy and sensual. He broke away abruptly and Chantelle’s eyes opened wide as if she had been cheated.

There was no need for words; she saw it in his face what he was asking. Slowly, her fingers went down to the tie on her bathrobe and undid it. Taking hold of the lapels of the robe, she peeled it away from her shoulders, allowing the garment to slide down her body onto the table. Reaching up, her arms encased his neck, bringing his lips down upon hers with a demanding and wanting equal to his.

Immediately, his large, powerful hands were on her naked skin, his fingers wrapping around the swell of her breasts, the thumbs tantalizingly rubbing the swollen beads of desire. His mouth moved down her neck and replaced his thumb, sucking each one in turn. Experienced fingers traveled down her stomach and then between her thighs, one hand parting her legs while the other delved into the moistness increasing with every feathery touch.

Chantelle had been leaning back, her body arched forward and her head flung back, feeling she was about to burst. With sudden urgency, she came forward, pushing the shirt from his shoulders. Her fingers then pulled at his belt buckle, her impatience causing David to break away and remove his trousers so she could take his pulsating manhood into her hand.

David let out a gasp and in one swift movement, pulled her halfway off of the table. His hands clenching her buttocks supported her weight as he gently glided into her welcoming crevice.

Her sharp intake of breath was followed by exquisite waves sweeping through her as his mouth plundered hers, silencing her cries of release. Frantically, she clung to him, wantonly; her body out of control; nails digging into his back as every thrust grew stronger and drove deeper.

Her legs locked tight around his thighs, matching rhythm for rhythm until David lifted his mouth from hers. A soft, low cry broke from Chantelle as David brought her face into the moist and salty hardness of his chest. His body shuddered at the same time, the spent juices of climax finally coming to an end.

Slowly, he withdrew while at the same time pulling up the bathrobe to cover her nakedness. He gently lifted her chin so she would look at him. “No regrets.”

She gave a small smile. “No, and you?”

He leaned forward and planted a kiss on her forehead. “The only regret is that I can’t have you for always, wake up with you every morning and have this feeling every day.”

“That’s the best kiss off I’ve heard.” Chantelle laughed, hiding her pain. He couldn’t have made it any clearer.

He went to say something when the kitchen door swung open and Danny marched in.

“Well, isn’t this bloody typical? My plane is in pieces stuck in a ditch while my brother is busy screwing the one responsible.”

Grabbing his trousers and hastily putting them on, David faced his brother. “You might still have the key, but this house belongs to me. Now, I suggest you walk out of here and we talk later.”

Having maneuvered herself off the table, Chantelle leaned against it for support and pulled the bathrobe tighter around her. This couldn’t get much worse; Danny was now looking at her with pure disgust. “Danny, I’m so sorry.” Her voice wavered. “I don’t know what happened, the engine basically cut out…”

“I tell you what happened. You should never have been flying her in the first place. And you call yourself an experienced pilot.”

“I think you’ve said enough,” David cut in. “How about cooling it? Forget your blasted plane; the insurance will see you’re all right. You should be thankful Chantelle didn’t lose her life or anyone else’s and that was because of her skill as a pilot.”

Danny let out a contemptuous laugh. “Insurance, what bloody insurance? The plane cleared me out and I wouldn’t say landing nose first into a ditch was a perfect landing.”

“You bloody fool.” David shook his head. “It’s illegal not to insure that plane.”

“Well, it will be me doing the suing. For starters, it will be stealing my plane and taking it up without my permission.”

Chantelle flopped down in the chair, unable to believe what she was hearing. This was not the Danny she knew. His charm, wit and boyish manner were gone. “Danny, you can’t do that! You agreed I could fly it to Manston.”

“Maybe I did, but straight there, not on a pleasure flight all over the country.”

“Why you …” David grabbed Danny by the lapels of his jacket, nearly lifting him off the ground.

“Stop it, you two!” Chantelle screamed.

The two men stared back at each other, Danny’s top lip curling up at the edges as he sensed David’s hesitation. Chantelle had risen off the chair, her weight balanced awkwardly on one foot, her hand reaching forward to touch David’s shoulder. For a moment, it seemed to have calmed him, but his narrow glare remained fixed on Danny’s face.

“Go on, throw a punch,” Danny taunted. “You’re just like him; you settle everything with your fists. Only you were never around to see it, were you?

“You’d believe anything she told you.”

“I was there, remember? You weren’t.”

This was no longer about the plane or the scene Danny had walked in on. This went far deeper, the two of them locked in an emotional battle from the past. All Chantelle could do was stand back and watch, fearful that one word could trigger David into striking Danny.

Danny’s gaze shifted to Chantelle as she leaned against David for support, the gesture revealing the intimacy between them.