The Friendship Barrier Page 15

  ‘Go on,’ Jake drawled, ‘for a woman who doesn’t want me, you have a very interesting way of showing it.’

  His words were like ice, dripping down her spine, crushing her with their contempt. She pulled away, but Jake stopped her. ‘Oh no,’ he whispered softly. ‘Is this what you want, Stephanie?’

  She moaned softly, hating the searing bitterness in his voice as he held her to the bed and stripped off his jeans, her face turned away so that she would not have to look at him but she couldn’t blot out all the tiny purposeful sounds, and even though she protested huskily when he came back to her, her body couldn’t deny itself the contact it had craved. She wanted to feel his skin against hers, his hardness against her softness, his…

  His hips moved seductively against her, eliciting a soft cry of pleasure. She felt Jake breathe deeply and then his arms were round her, binding her to his body, his mouth on hers in an urgent demanding kiss that she responded to blindly, almost reeling under its hard pressure.

  When he released her, she felt as though she were suddenly surfacing from a long, deep dive, awareness of reality slowly returning, until she became conscious that he was depriving her body of the contact it craved with his, and she cried his name almost without being aware of it, reaching up for him. ‘Jake, please…’

  ‘Please, what?’

  He looked down at her, his eyes narrowed and glittering, and Stephanie knew that it was too late to deny him, and that it had always been too late.

  She closed her eyes on the tears she knew were there and said defeatedly, ‘Please make love to me… please… please love me, even if it’s only this once… even if it’s all make-believe.’

  ‘So, you do want me?’ His eyes were unfathomable, shutting his thoughts away from her.

  ‘You know I do.’ The quiet admission was acutely painful to make.

  ‘I wanted you for two years,’ he reminded her softly. ‘That’s how long I had to wait for you, Stephanie. Two years is a long time for a man to go hungry for a woman.’

  ‘Is that why you’re doing this to me now? To punish me? I didn’t know you wanted me, Jake.’

  ‘Why did you come to me the other night?’

  ‘I wanted to set you free.’

  ‘To go to another woman?’ He bent his head and feathered light kisses along her throat and her body responded mindlessly to the shivering pleasure of his touch.

  ‘Is that what you want, Stephanie?’ he pressed. ‘For me to he go another woman?’

  ‘No.’ The admission seemed to have been wrung from her soul. Tears spilled helplessly down her face, her body aching with a pain of a different kind. ‘No,’ she admitted huskily, ‘I want you to stay with me, to love me as…’

  ‘As?’

  ‘As I love you,’ she admitted painfully, suddenly aware of the tension in Jake’s body, the strain deepening the lines around his eyes.

  ‘Stephanie! My God, at last!’ His voice trembled unevenly over her name, his forehead damp as it rested against hers, and the tension drained out of his body. ‘You can’t know how much I’ve needed to hear you say that; how I’ve almost willed you into saying it at times. I love you.’

  ‘You love me?’ She couldn’t believe it!

  ‘Yes.’

  When she would have spoken, he shook his head and said softly, ‘I fell in love with you the day you walked into my office for the interview, although I didn’t know it at the time. Then, I thought it was just desire. By the time you left I was visualising you not in my office but in my bed, and you seemed to be equally aware of me. Then, that night you were attacked. I can’t begin to describe what I felt; and as the months went by and it became more and more obvious that, physically, you just couldn’t be reached, I told myself my feelings for you would die, but they didn’t. I dated other women—’

  ‘Susy…’ Stephanie substituted, her fingers playing with the dark hair curling against his chest.

  ‘Amongst others,’ Jake agreed dryly. ‘I even tried to make love to them, but… That was when I knew how much I loved you. I couldn’t believe it when I looked up at you one day and caught you watching me… seeing me as a man, and not just as a friend. That was when I began to hope.’

  ‘You were so angry with me, and I was so confused.’

  ‘When a man’s as frustrated as I was, he is apt to become “angry”. The way you reacted to Susy was the most heartening thing of all, but I couldn’t get you to admit how you felt, and then you started dating someone else. I can’t begin to describe how I felt that evening when I drove round to see you and found you in his arms. I wanted to kill the pair of you.’

  ‘I had no idea you loved me, and I was terrified when I realised how I felt about you.’

  ‘But you still came to me and made love to me so sweetly that my guts still ache at the memory of it. When I thought you’d gone from me to Brice, I was like a man out of his mind. When he phoned to say you were spending the night with him…’ Stephanie felt the shudder that went through him and smiled tremulously. ‘The phone line went dead before he could explain the situation… I never dreamed you’d be jealous… I was so busy worrying about stopping you from discovering how I felt. I thought you might feel a responsibility towards me… that you might pity me.’

  ‘Pity you?’ His eyebrows arched. ‘The only person I can find pity for right now is me. Starting now, you owe me two years of loving, and I fully intend to charge interest on the debt. You can make a start by promising to marry me the moment we get back to London, and then I think we’ll take a long, long honeymoon so that you can start making interest payments on the capital.’ When she didn’t respond, he tensed and said roughly, ‘Stephanie, you will marry me, won’t you? Dear Heaven,’ he groaned, ‘I don’t think I could stand it if you won’t.’

  ‘Oh, Jake, there’s nothing I want more than to be your wife.’ She caught her breath as he moved against her and admitted huskily, ‘Well, almost nothing. It wasn’t very fair of you to force me to admit how I feel.’

  His warm laughter brushed her skin. ‘Oh, Stephanie. If you weren’t such a blind idiot, you’d have guessed months ago that I love you. Every time my body touches yours it’s an admission of love. Let me show you,’ he whispered against her ear. ‘Let me show you, in all the ways there are, just what you mean to me. I love you so much.’ His voice was raw with emotion, his arms tightening round her as he silenced her small murmur of pleasure with his mouth.

  ‘You asked me to love you,’ he murmured, moments later. ‘I do, and I will.’ His fingers touched her bruised forehead, his expression tense as he remembered the accusations he had thrown at her. Reading his mind, Stephanie caught his hand in hers, pressing her lips to his palm. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she told him softly, releasing his hand to open her arms to him, her rescuer, her friend, her lover.

  ‘All that matters is that we’ve found each other. Even now, I can’t believe I’m not dreaming.’

  She felt Jake smile. ‘Then let me prove it to you,’ he murmured, softly taking her in his arms ‘Love me, Stephanie,’ he begged against her skin ‘Love me as much as I love you.’

  ‘I do,’ she assured him softly.

  ‘Then show me.’

  ‘We came here to work—remember?’ Stephanie teased him long moments later.

  ‘So we did,’ Jake agreed, ‘but this is far, far more important and certainly far more enjoyable, don’t you agree?’

  She did, and she proved it to him by reaching out to pull him down against her body, knowing that this time she could show him without restraint that her love was as deeply intense as his.

  * * * * *

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  THE INNOCENT’S SECRET BABY

  CHAPTER ONE

  ROME AGAIN… ROME again…

  The City of Love.

  Wrapped in a towel, and damp from the shower, Lydia Hayward lay on the bed in her hotel suite and considered the irony.

  Yes, she might be in Rome, and meeting tonight with a very eligible man, but it had nothing to do with love.

  There were more practical matters that needed to be addressed.

  Oh, it hadn’t been said outright, of course.

  Her mother hadn’t sat her down one evening and explained that, without the vast and practically bottomless pit of money that this man could provide, they would lose everything. Everything being the castle they lived in, which was the family business too.

  And Valerie had never said that Lydia had to sleep with the man she and her stepfather were meeting tonight.

  Of course she hadn’t.

  Valerie had, however, enquired whether Lydia was on the Pill.

  ‘You don’t want to ruin your holiday.’

  Since when had her mother taken an interest in such things? Lydia had been to Italy once before, on a school trip at the age of seventeen, and her mother hadn’t been concerned enough to ask then.

  Anyway, why would she be on the Pill?

  Lydia had been told to ‘save’ herself.

  And she had.

  Though not because of her mother’s instruction—more because she did not know how to let her guard down.

  People thought her aloof and cold.

  Better they think that than she reveal her heart.

  And so, by default, she had saved herself.

  Lydia had secretly hoped for love.

  It would seem not in this lifetime.

  Tonight she would be left alone with him.

  The towel fell away and, though she was alone, Lydia pulled it back and covered herself.

  She was on the edge of a panic attack, and she hadn’t had one since…

  Rome.

  Or was it Venice?

  Venice.

  Both.

  That awful school trip.

  She had said yes to this trip to Rome, hoping to lay a ghost to rest. Lydia wanted to see Rome through adult eyes, yet she was as scared of the world now as she had been as a teenager.

  Pull yourself together, Lydia.

  And so she did.

  Lydia got up from the bed and got dressed.

  She was meeting Maurice, her stepfather, at eight for breakfast. Rather than be late she just quickly combed her long blonde hair, which had dried a little wild. She had bought a taupe linen dress to wear, which had buttons from neck to hem—though perhaps not the best choice for her shaking hands.

  They are not expecting you to sleep with him!

  Lydia told herself she was being utterly ridiculous even to entertain such a thought. She would stop by for a drink with this man tonight, with her stepfather, thank him for his hospitality, and then explain that she was going out with friends. Arabella lived here now, and had said they should catch up when Lydia got here.

  In fact…

  Lydia took out her phone and fired off a quick text.

  Hi, Arabella,

  Not sure if you got my message.

  Made it to Rome.

  I’m free for dinner tonight if you would like to catch up.

  Lydia

  And so to breakfast.

  Lydia stepped out of her suite and took the elevator down to the dining room. As she walked through the lavish foyer she caught sight of herself in a mirror. Those deportment classes had been good for something at least—she was the picture of calm and had her head held high.

  Yet she wanted to run away.

  * * *

  ‘No, grazie.’

  Raul Di Savo declined the waiter’s offer of a second espresso and continued to read through reports on the Hotel Grande Lucia, where he now sat having just taken breakfast.

  At Raul’s request his lawyer had attained some comprehensive information, but it had only come through this morning. In a couple of hours Raul was to meet with Sultan Alim, so there was a lot to go through.

  The Grande Lucia was indeed a sumptuous hotel, and Raul took a moment to look up from his computer screen and take in the sumptuous dining room that was currently set up for breakfast.

  There was the pleasant clink of fine china and a quiet murmur of conversation and, though formal, the room had a relaxed air that had made Raul’s stay so far pleasurable. There was a certain old-world feel to the place that spoke of Rome’s rich history and beauty.

  And Raul wanted the hotel to be his.

  Raul had been toying with the idea of adding it to his portfolio, and had just spent the night in the Presidential Suite as a guest of Sultan Alim.

  Raul hadn’t expected to be so impressed.

  He had been, though.

  Every detail was perfection personified—the décor was stunning, the staff were attentive yet discreet, and it appeared to be a rich haven for both the business traveller and the well-heeled tourist.

  Raul was now seriously considering taking over this landmark hotel.

  Which meant that so too was Bastiano.

  Fifteen years on and their rivalry continued unabated.

  Mutual hatred was a silent, yet daily motivator—a black cord that connected them.

  And Bastiano would be arriving later today.

  Raul knew that Bastiano was also a personal friend of Sultan Alim. Raul had considered if that might have any bearing on their negotiations but had soon discounted it. Sultan Alim was a brilliant businessman, and his friendship with Bastiano would have no sway over his dealings, Raul was certain of that.

  Raul rather hoped his presence at the hotel might cause Bastiano some discomfort, for though they moved in similar circles in truth their paths rarely crossed. Raul, even on his father’s death, had never returned to Casta.

  There had been no respects to pay.

  Yet Casta had remained Bastiano’s base.

  He had converted the old convent into a luxury retreat for the seriously wealthy.

  It was actually, Raul knew, an extremely upmarket rehab facility.

  His mother would be turning in her grave.

  Raul’s black thoughts were interrupted when the portly middle-aged gentleman sitting to his right made his disgruntled feelings known.

  ‘Who do you have to sleep with around here to get some service?’ he muttered in well-schooled English.

  It would seem that the tourists were getting impatient!

  Raul smiled inwardly as the waiter continued to ignore the pompous Englishman. The waiter had had enough. This man had been complaining since the moment he had been shown to his table, and there was absolutely nothing to complain about.

  Raul was not being generous in that observation. Many of his nights were spent in hotels—mainly those that he owned—and so more than most he had a very critical eye.

  There were certain ways to behave, and despite
his accent this man did not adhere to them. He seemed to assume that just because he was in Rome no one would speak English and his insults would go unnoticed.

  They did not.

  And so—just because he could—Raul gestured with his index and middle finger towards the small china cup on his table. The motion was subtle, barely noticeable to many, and yet it was enough to indicate to the attentive waiter that Raul had changed his mind and would now like another coffee.

  Raul knew that his preferential treatment would incense the diner to his right.

  From the huff of indignation as his drink was delivered, it did.

  Good!

  Yes, Raul decided, he wanted this hotel.

  Raul read through the figures again and decided to make some further calls to try to get behind the real reason the Sultan was selling such an iconic hotel. Even with Raul’s extensive probing he could see no reason for the sale. While the outgoings were vast, it was profitable indeed. The crème de la crème stayed at the Grande Lucia, and it was here that their children were christened and wed.

  There had to be a reason Alim was selling, and Raul had every intention of finding out just what it was.

  Just as Raul had decided to leave he glanced up and saw a woman enter the dining room.

  Raul was more than used to beautiful women, and the room was busy enough that he should not even have noticed, but there was something about her that drew the eye.

  She was tall and slender and she wore a taupe dress. Her long blonde hair appeared freshly washed and tumbled over her shoulders. Raul watched as she had a brief conversation with the maître d’ and then started to walk in his direction.

  Still Raul did not look away.

  She made her way between the tables with elegant ease and Raul noted that she carried herself beautifully. Her complexion was pale and creamy, and suddenly Raul wanted her to be close enough so that he could know the colour of her eyes. She lifted a hand and gave a small wave, and Raul—who was rarely the recipient of a sinking feeling where women were concerned—felt one now.

  She was with him, Raul realised—she was here to have breakfast with the obnoxious man who sat to his right.

  Pity.