The Playboy in Pursuit Read online

  ‘Pity,’ he muttered, then slowly, gently, eased out of her.

  She flinched at his withdrawal, plus at the unexpectedly bereft feeling that washed through her, biting her tongue lest she tell him she’d changed her mind, that she wanted him back inside her, that she wanted him to make love to her till she collapsed from exhaustion.

  ‘You do do things to me, darling Lucille,’ he murmured, his mouth still hovering over her ear, ‘that haven’t been done since I was a randy twenty-year-old. Still, you’re quite right to stop me for a while. There’s a delicious dinner awaiting us, not to mention a bottle of Dom Perignon chilling in an ice bucket. I had seafood and salad delivered earlier, with crispy rolls, and a mango cheesecake for afterwards. But I’ll need a few private moments to make myself decent before we adjourn to the dining room.

  ‘I’ll just pop in there,’ he said, nodding towards the powder room which led off from the foyer. ‘Meanwhile, you might like to get yourself decent again too. I don’t think I could cope, sitting sedately at a table with you looking quite as…stimulating…as you do at this moment.’

  He left her alone to stare at herself in the mirror once more.

  Her reflection didn’t bring the word ‘stimulating’ to mind. Stimulated was more like it. Her eyes were gleaming, her cheeks glowing. Her mouth was still swollen, and so were her breasts. She looked the epitome of a woman who’d been thoroughly seduced and totally corrupted. She looked wanton and wild and more than a little wicked.

  Getting herself decent again, she conceded ruefully as she yanked her teddy back up—and down—into place, was impossible. She could cover her nakedness with clothes, tidy her hair and replenish her lipstick. But nothing could change what was going on inside her head.

  The truth was she was in danger of becoming seriously addicted to Val’s lovemaking. Though love had absolutely nothing to do with what he’d just done to her, as he’d pointed out the other night.

  It had been raw sex. Lust, in its most primitive form. Almost animal-like, both in position and intent. There had been no deep or fine emotions involved. No special caring. No…

  Lucille’s harsh thoughts were interrupted by the memory of Val caring enough to stop and protect her when she hadn’t been able to stop. It couldn’t have been for himself so much. After all, he knew she hadn’t been sleeping around with other men.

  That had been a kind of caring, hadn’t it?

  Maybe not, she was forced to accept. He was probably so used to using protection in his promiscuous world of casual sex and musical-chair girlfriends that he did it on autopilot.

  Only a fool would start thinking she might mean anything special to him. Only a fool would start imagining she was anything more to him than a novelty, to be summarily dumped once he grew bored, or someone more…incandescent…came along.

  Like Flame.

  The sound of a toilet flushing had Lucille scooping her jacket up from the floor and hurriedly dragging it back on. As she buttoned it up, she staunchly buttoned up any futile female feelings her thoughts had dredged out of her subconscious.

  Play it cool, she told herself as she smoothed down her skirt and smoothed back her hair. He’s just a male body, to be used for your own pleasure, used as he’s using your body.

  Yes. Keep that thought in your head and you might survive this experience relatively unscathed. At worst, you won’t end up any more screwed up and cynical than you already are.

  When Val emerged from the powder room she spun to face him, her chin lifting in automatic accord with her inner resolutions.

  He took one look at her face and sighed. ‘Oh, no, you don’t. It’s after dark. The ice princess has been put to bed, remember? Hell, leave you alone for a minute and all my good work has gone to waste.’

  Lucille bitterly resented being referred to as some kind of project that had to be worked upon. ‘Leopards don’t change their spots, Val,’ she snapped. ‘I am what I am, just as you are what you are.’

  ‘Ah, yes, I keep forgetting what a worthless, womanising bastard I am. But what does that make you, Lucille? Or daren’t you think about that?’

  She struggled with a stab of shame, but managed to bury it behind the cold-blooded pragmatism she’d set her course upon. ‘I’m a normal woman,’ she pointed out coolly. ‘With normal needs. But I’m also a once-bitten-twice-shy divorcee who has no intention of putting her life—or her happiness—in the hands of a man again. That’s why I tried to keep things between us to a one-night stand on Monday night. Because you’re an incredibly skilled lover, Val, and I was worried I might do something stupid like fall in love with you.’

  ‘Heaven forbid you’d do something that stupid,’ he said testily.

  ‘For pity’s sake, I wouldn’t have taken you for a man who’d be so super-sensitive. If you must know, I don’t want to fall in love with any man, not just you. Anyway, I’ve had some time to think about things since last Monday, and I’ve realised my fears about falling in love with you were way over the top. I mean…I fancy you like mad, Val, but love is a different kettle of fish entirely. I was just a bit confused by all the great sex. I’ve never enjoyed making love so much before with a man whom I wasn’t in love with. It took me a while to get used to the fact that I could have such strong physical feelings without love.’

  ‘But you finally managed it?’ he said drily.

  Lucille refused to react to his sarcasm. ‘Yes. I’ve finally managed it. When you rang me today, I was actually thinking about ringing you.’

  Now that was an outright lie, but a girl had to have her pride. Couldn’t have him thinking just the sound of his voice had obliterated her vow never to see him again.

  ‘Get to the bottom line here, Lucille, if you don’t mind. What is it that you want of me?’

  Lucille composed herself to take the plunge. ‘I want what you offered me on the phone.’

  ‘And what was that? Please remind me. After all, that was several hours ago. A lot of water has gone under the bridge since then.’

  ‘A strictly sexual and very private affair,’ she bit out, well aware that he was trying to humiliate her for some reason. Ego, probably. He liked calling the shots where his sex life was concerned and didn’t like any woman stating the terms under which he could have her.

  ‘Ah, yes,’ he drawled. ‘I do recall. I’m to be your secret lover and you my secret playmate. So for how long would you envisage this…arrangement…lasting?’

  For ever, came the involuntary thought.

  Lucille’s heart lurched. Lord, but she was even more addicted here than she’d realised.

  ‘For as long as we both find it mutually satisfying,’ she managed to say, gritting her teeth hard.

  ‘And is this to be an exclusive arrangement?’

  She blinked, then stared at him. ‘You…you want to see other women at the same time as me?’

  ‘I didn’t say that. Actually, I’m overwhelmingly enamoured of your charms at the moment. But anything’s possible, I suppose. Do you want the right to see other men?’

  ‘No!’ she denied, far too heatedly, before she could think better of it.

  His eyes glittered, but with what emotion she couldn’t be sure. Possibly anger. ‘I’m flattered that you wish to be faithful to me. But I would have imagined faithfulness was out of sync with a strictly sexual affair.’

  ‘Maybe, but I’d still rather you didn’t see anyone else,’ she grated out, hating the thought of him with any woman, but especially with that Flame female.

  ‘Why?’ he mocked. ‘It can’t be because you’d be jealous. Only lovers in love get jealous. Worried another woman might take some of the steam out of me, is that it? I can appreciate why. It takes quite a bit to satisfy you, once we’ve gotten the ice princess out of the way.’

  ‘If you’re going to insult me, Val, then I’m out of here.’ As if to make the threat real, she snatched her briefcase up from the floor.

  ‘If I’m going to insult you! Now that’s a laugh. You’ve be
en doing nothing but insult me since we met.’

  ‘I’ve only been honest.’

  He glowered at her, then sighed. ‘Yes. Yes, you’ve only been honest. But do you have to be so brutal? Here, give me that stupid damned thing. You’re not going anywhere, except inside here with me.’ He took her briefcase and tossed it in a corner again, then took her elbow and steered her into the living room and over to one of the bar stools.

  ‘Sit,’ he ordered.

  Lucille sat. He was so right. She hadn’t really been going anywhere.

  A bottle of Dom Perignon was sitting in an ice bucket at one end of the bar, two fluted glasses at the ready. Val walked round to lift the bottle out. He wiped it with a striped teatowel and began unscrewing the top.

  ‘Look,’ he said firmly as he worked to release the cork. ‘Let’s stop this fruitless game of one-upmanship. I can’t stand it. Honesty I don’t mind, but not nastiness. Or vindictiveness. I realise you’ve been hurt in the past, Lucille, but I haven’t hurt you, have I?’

  ‘No…’ she agreed, but warily. Because he would, if she let him. She just knew it.

  ‘Surely, then, behind these closed doors at least, we can be friends as well as lovers.’

  ‘Friends?’ she echoed blankly.

  His smile was wry. ‘People who like each other. People who trust each other. People who are actually nice to each other.’

  Lucille was truly taken aback. ‘I…I’ve never been friends with a man before,’ she hedged.

  Now he was the one who was taken aback. ‘Not even your husband?’

  ‘Him least of all.’

  ‘Then why not start with me? I make a good friend to a woman.’

  ‘And why would that be?’

  ‘Because I like women.’

  ‘That is a good start,’ she conceded, thinking what a strange turn-up for the books this was. She’d come for sex and now he was offering her friendship as well.

  ‘I also like the things women like,’ he added.

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Music. Dancing. The theatre. Films. Books.’ The cork popped and he poured the sparkling liquid into the crystal glasses.

  ‘What about cars and golf and your mates?’

  ‘I don’t own a car. I can’t play golf, and I have no mates, as such. I’m not much of a man’s man, I’m afraid.’

  ‘I’m never going to tell Michele any of this,’ she muttered.

  ‘Who’s Michele?’ he asked as he pushed her glass in front of her and began sipping from his own.

  ‘My best friend.’

  His eyebrow lifted, and so did his mouth. ‘And I’m to be a secret from her as well? I find that hard to believe, knowing women as well as I do.’

  ‘I couldn’t possibly tell her about you. She’s trying to find me a boyfriend before Christmas. She’ll think you’re perfect.’

  ‘Silly Michele.’

  ‘She’s not at all silly. She’s an advertising executive. And smart as anything.’ Lucille took a deep swallow of the champagne. God, it was delicious. ‘But she’s a hopeless romantic.’

  ‘Now that’s a dreadful disease to suffer from, being a hopeless romantic.’

  She eyed Val reproachfully. ‘I thought you said no more remarks like that.’

  He actually looked guilty. ‘You’re right. That was uncalled for. Please accept my apology.’

  ‘Accepted,’ she said, and smiled.

  He cocked his head to one side. ‘You know, you don’t smile nearly often enough.’

  ‘I haven’t had much to smile about,’ she said ruefully. ‘Till now.’

  ‘Wow! That sounded like a genuine compliment.’

  She blinked, then smiled, a bit surprised herself. ‘It was, wasn’t it?’

  ‘I’m going to drink to that. You too. Drink up, darling.’

  Lucille winced at his easy use of that word. She knew it didn’t mean anything, but she wished she wouldn’t say it all the same. ‘I’ll get drunk if I drink any more on an empty stomach,’ she told him.

  ‘Does it matter?’

  ‘I guess not. I don’t have to drive home later.’

  ‘You’re planning on staying the night?’ He was obviously startled.

  Lucille hoped she didn’t look as hot as she felt all of a sudden. ‘I came in a taxi. I don’t like to drive into the city alone on a Friday night.’

  ‘Sensible. Well, stay the night anyway,’ he suggested casually. ‘Stay the whole weekend if you like.’

  If she liked. Dear God…

  It was a struggle to look nonchalant.

  ‘We’ll see,’ she said. ‘I might have to go home at some stage.’

  ‘True,’ he drawled. ‘You might need some sleep before Monday.’

  Their eyes met over their glasses of champagne. He smiled a slow, sexy smile, and her stomach flipped right over.

  ‘You’re a wicked man, Val Seymour,’ she chided.

  ‘And you’re a wicked woman, Lucille Jordan.’

  Her chin tipped up saucily. ‘We’re a good match, then, aren’t we?’

  His smile widened. ‘Actually, I was just thinking the same thing myself.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  ‘YOU’RE looking extra fab for a Monday,’ Michele said as she joined Lucille at their usual lunch table.

  Her eyes had narrowed on Lucille’s new suit, which, though quite plain in design, was a brilliant turquoise colour which looked even more brilliant in the sunshine. It also fitted like a glove, showing every curve of her curvy figure.

  ‘Is there anything you should be telling me?’ Michele asked suspiciously.

  Lucille produced a face which would have convinced anyone—even the knowing and cynical Erica—that she was as pure as the driven snow. In the three short weeks since she’d met Val, she had learned to become an actress worthy of an Oscar nomination. No one would know that she was leading such a wicked double life. At work she remained Ms Jordan, super-cool consultant from Move Smooth. In her leisure hours she was Val’s hot-blooded lover. Sizzling. Sensual. Sexy beyond belief.

  Her heart skipped a beat just thinking about some of the things she’d done.

  ‘Like what?’ she asked, having a struggle to keep her voice and eyes ingenuously innocent.

  ‘Like where you were all weekend, for starters. I rang once on Friday night. Twice on Saturday and at least three times on Sunday. But I never seemed to catch you in.’

  ‘Really? Oh, well, Friday night I saw a movie, then Saturday I went shopping nearly all day. Christmas is only a few weeks away, as you know, and I like to get my present-buying in early. I’m not sure what could have happened on Sunday, though I was tired from all that shopping and napped quite a bit. Maybe I was asleep and didn’t hear the phone. I keep the ring turned down pretty low. When was the last time you tried?’

  ‘About nine-thirty last night.’

  ‘Oh, well, I was definitely in bed by then.’

  Technically, everything she’d said to Michele was the truth. She had seen a movie on the Friday night. Titanic on cable TV. Or she’d sort of seen it. When the heroine had taken off her clothes for the hero to paint her in the nude, Val had decided he wanted to do the same to her. Only once she was naked, and draped artistically over the sofa, he had confessed he didn’t have any proper paints but would a bottle of perfumed bath oil and her make-up brush do?

  The rest of the film had been a bit of a blur.

  Then, on the Saturday, she had gone shopping all afternoon, whilst Val had been busy at a full dress rehearsal for the show. He’d sent her off with his credit card, squashing the objections she’d raised by saying she never let him spend any money on her by taking her out, so the least she could do was let him buy her a couple of sexy negligées which she could swan around the apartment in, instead of always wearing his dressing-gown.

  So she’d come back with some very naughty Femme Fatale label lingerie and nightwear, plus the turquoise suit she was presently wearing, which she’d paid for herself.

  T
hen, on the Sunday, she had spent quite a bit of time sleeping. Just not in her own bed. She’d been exhausted after Val had been positively insatiable on the Saturday night, courtesy of the Femme Fatale gear.

  When he’d finally arrived home from rehearsals around seven, he’d been suitably impressed by the slinky black lace robe she’d been wearing, but totally speechless when she’d slipped it off her shoulders and revealed what was underneath. Anyone would think he’d never seen a black leather-look corset before. The kind with a built-in push-up half-cup bra from whose highly inadequate confines her voluptuous breasts had been spilling.

  Lucille had every intention of buying some more Femme Fatale items in the not too distant future, if that was the effect they had on him. It was a pity that she couldn’t recommend them to Michele. But how could she? How could she tell her anything?

  Michele would be flabbergasted. And possibly quite shocked.

  Lucille might have been shocked too, if she could come down to earth long enough for such feelings. At the back of her mind she knew she was on a one-way trip to disaster, but it was just too exciting a journey to stop now. She was already chronically infatuated with Val and his lovemaking. Infatuated. Addicted. Maybe even obsessed.

  But, oh…what a magnificent obsession!

  ‘What did you want me for?’ she asked Michele, hoping she didn’t sound too distracted. It had been a mistake to start thinking about Val and sex. Hard not too, however, when she was planning on meeting him straight after work, only a few short hours away. That was why she was wearing the showy turquoise suit. And precious little else.

  ‘I had some news to tell you which couldn’t wait till today,’ Michele said.

  Lucille did her best to focus on her friend, but her mind kept drifting. ‘Oh? Good news, I hope.’

  ‘Very. I’m going to have a baby.’

  ‘A baby!’ Lucille was suddenly very, very focused. ‘But…but you’ve only been married a few weeks,’ she said, frowning.

  Too late, Lucille realised this wasn’t the reaction Michele was hoping for.

  Seeing the hurt in her friend’s eyes, she did her best to make amends. ‘Well, aren’t you the clever couple!’ she exclaimed, smiling brightly despite her instant doubts and fears. ‘It takes some people years to conceive. Is Tyler pleased?’