They both knew what he was asking, and after only a few seconds' hesitation she nodded.
âI've never strolled on a beach at midnight,' she confessed. He was now standing so close to her that she could feel her nipples hardening, pushing against her shirt, aroused simply at the thought of what he could do to her.
âIt's quite an experience,' he murmured, and his voice was like a caressâa soft, velvety caress.
They silently left the house and walked down to the beach, then down to the water's edge so that the sea lapped against their bare feet. Everything around them was dark. The sea, the sky, the silhouettes of the trees like swaying black figures. They began walking away from the house, until they had left it behind, With every step, she could feel that thread of pulsating excitement growing stronger and stronger.
When he finally turned to her and cupped her face in his hands, she breathed a sigh of satisfaction, tilting her head upwards, parting her lips to meet his mouth as it descended and moved against hers in a soft, lingering, never-ending kiss.
Tomorrow was a point in time which no longer existed. For the first time in her life the only thing that mattered was the here and now, with no plans for the future, no looking ahead.
She wasn't wearing a bra, and a part of her wondered now whether she hadn't already made her mind up when she had changed clothes earlier in the evening.
His hands slid to her waist, circling it, his thumbs meeting and rubbing her navel, then climbing higher, under the baggy shirt, pushing it up until her breasts were exposed.
They sank slowly, entwined, onto their bed of sand, white and flawless in the burning daylight sun, dark with shadows now.
He buried his head between her breasts, then licked them gently, leaving no part of the full, swelling mounds untouched.
Somehow, this time, the embrace of darkness made things seem less frantic, less urgent. Their actions were unhurried, a slow, thorough exploration of each other's bodies.
He sucked on her nipples, taking his time, savouring their sweetness, and she, in turn, ran her tongue along the firm, hard lines of his torso, marvelling at the ridges of muscles she could feel under her fingers.
The build-up was exquisitely unhurried. It seemed as though everything could last for ever.
When he finally nuzzled the sensitised region between her thighs, she had to stop herself from crying out loud in ecstasy. Even then, there was no rush, no fast rhythm to propel her on to a shuddering, urgent climax. He licked and sucked, and she softly moaned as his tongue found the throbbing bud of her femininity and played with it, gently.
The minutes seemed to stretch on into eternity, with the lapping of the water blending with the lapping of his tongue in her moistness.
There was something shockingly tender about their lovemaking.
Even as he entered her, his movements were long and deep, and she felt as though her body had been created just for this: to receive him.
She arched back, and he bent forward so that with every thrust his tongue briefly found an engorged nipple and flicked erotically against it. There was no part of her body that wasn't on fire. If two bodies could fuse, then surely theirs must. They were slippery with heat, and she could feel him burning against her. Finally, when she could hold out no longer, his rhythm altered, speeding up, faster and faster until he tensed with the final pleasure just as she felt her body stiffen in response, and she gave a hoarse cry of fulfilment, rolling over so that she could continue the momentum, shuddering uncontrollably as ripple after ripple of pleasure ran through her.
Later, much later, when she rolled to her side and said to him, âYou're right. One weekend, but a weekend that will become the stuff of memories,' she almost felt as though she meant it. Here, in the middle of nowhere, nothing outside seemed to exist, and all her everyday problems appeared petty and meaningless. She could cope with all that, in time.
âAnd what if I want to see you when we get back?' he asked in a husky voice, and her body stilled.
No, she thought sadly. If only, but what they had here was unique and should remain what it was: a moment in time. She instinctively knew that to prolong their relationship, if that was what it could be called, would be a mistake.
âIt wouldn't work,' she whispered softly, blowing into his ear and feeling him stir into life against her. âYou really don't want someone like me, and I'd rather...'
âQuit while you're ahead?'
âEnjoy what we have for what it is,' she amended. A wave of emotion rushed through her, making her feel giddy and faint, and she blinked it away.
âNo commitment,' she said quietly. âIt's something neither of us needs.' Or did she?
Did she?
No. It had never been part of her master plan. A weekend she could control, but nothing beyond that.
CHAPTER SEVEN
âY
OU'VE been summoned.' Millie's face wore the same anxious, concerned look that it had held for the interminably fraught last couple of months, but at least, Jessica thought, she had stopped asking her repeatedly if everything was all right.
Everything was not all right. It never would be, and she knew that that was reflected in her every expression, in every move she made, but there seemed to be very little she could do to control that.
âI'm too busy, Mills,' Jessica said, sitting down suddenly and giving in to the overwhelming exhaustion that had been sapping her energy ever since she had returned from that fateful weekend abroad. She rested her head in her open palms and shut her eyes.
âI wish you'd tell me what's wrong,' Millie said worriedly, and Jessica sighed heavily by way of response.
âI'll be fine.'
Not long left to go at the company, then her problems would begin in earnest. She didn't know if she had the strength to face them, but there was no way out.
âShall I tell Mr Carr that you won't be able to see him?' Millie asked gently, and Jessica's head shot up.
âBruno Carr wants to see me?' Her voice was hoarse and shocked, and her secretary's face became pinched with consternation. âWhy?' she demanded. âWhy? Why would he want to see me all of a sudden? I've had no contact with the man for weeks and weeks and weeks! What did he say?'
âI don't know,' Millie stammered. âI'm sorry, Jess... perhaps he just wants to tell you goodbye personally...'
âHow does he know that I'm leaving?' Every aching muscle in her body had sprung into life, filling her with a dreadful sense of apprehension.
How could he still do this to her?
When they had parted company all that time ago, she had cheerfully believed every word she had said to him. She had convinced herself that their very brief fling had been everything and nothing, and all that she had needed. Just what the doctor had ordered, she had told herself, every time his image crept into her head and wreaked havoc with her thoughts.
She barely knew the man, she had thought, and the fact that he seemed to have stuck in her brain was absolutely nothing to worry about. She was not accustomed to having a weekend lover. Of course, she would find it a little difficult to get out of her mind. She wasn't made of stone, after all.
It wasn't even that they were soul mates, she lectured repeatedly to herself, when the hours became days, and the days turned into weeks, and the thought of him still managed to evoke feelings of loss and misery. Time would cure her of her stupidity.
But time, she had discovered, had joined hands with fate and both were conspiring to turn her life on its head.
âHe owns this company, Jess...' Millie's voice was confused and agitated, and Jessica knew just what she was thinking: The boss has finally lost it. She's been a mess for the past few weeks, and now she's finally waved goodbye to her sanity.
Jessica cleared her throat, looked up, and made an attempt to speak with at least a semblance of self-control.
âYou're right. I'll see him right away.' She watched as her secretary's expression of worry changed into one of relief. Of course, she had no intention of going to see Bruno Carr, but Millie wasn't to know that.
She stood up, smoothed her hair neatly behind her ears, and plastered a cheerful smile on her face.
âWhere is he?' Polite look, a little quizzical, but definitely composed. Millie, she thought, must think I'm deranged.
âAt his office. He said that he expects you within the hour.'
Fat chance.
âI'll go immediately.' She glanced at her desk, with the papers covering most of the available free space, and randomly selected a couple which she handed to her secretary. A couple of months ago, she would have been invigorated at the prospect of the work lying in front of her. Now, she couldn't care less. She had an insane urge to sweep her hand across the smooth, hard, wooden surface and watch all those little bits of paper swirl helplessly into the waste-paper basket on the ground. âReply to these for me, would you, Mills? And you'd better cancel my appointment to see James Parker this afternoon. I'm not sure what time I'll be back from seeing Mr Carr. If I get back at all.'
âOf course.'
There, there, there, Jessica wanted to say. Don't you feel better now, Mills? Now that I'm acting in character, even if it's all a charade?
She fetched her jacket from the back of her chair and stuck it on. The weather had finally broken after an endless winter and a spring that had seemed reluctant to part company with the cold. Now it had shed its indecision and was everywhere. New, little buds bursting out in the sunshine, daffodils sticking yellow heads through the grass, coats returned to wardrobes for their annual hibernation. Jessica barely noticed any of it. The sky could have been bright red for all she knew, and the sun could have been purple. She came to work in a daze, worked in a daze and returned home in a daze.
âI'll see you in the morning!' Millie called, and Jessica turned around to look at her.
âOh, yes. See you in the morning.' Then she was gone. Out of the door and the office and walking briskly towards the underground. Several stops, then finally her own. She thought about Bruno, waiting in his office to see her, and shuddered with relief as her house drew closer.
She had yearned to see him. It was unbelievable how much she had yearned to see him. It was as though their one weekend together had opened her up to emotions she had spent a lifetime suppressing.
Now, she could envisage nothing worse.
She slipped her key into the lock, shut the door behind her, and did what she did every evening recently when she returned from work: kicked her shoes off and then collapsed onto the sofa and closed her eyes. There was a lot to do, but the mere thought of doing any of it made her feel faint. The ironing basket seemed to have taken on a life of its own, and was growing daily. If she didn't do something about it, she knew that she would be forced to contact an ironing service to come and take it all away. There were dishes in the sink, and a few of them had been sitting there for the past two days. She hadn't even bothered to soak them in water, and the grime would have hardened so that when she finally did get around to washing them they would stubbornly refuse to release their greasy layers.
None of it seemed to matter. In her head, the problems churned around and around, mutating and changing and shifting positions, but never going away.
How could they?
From her prone position on the sofa, she gave a little groan and rolled over onto her side, feeling utterly horrible in her work clothes. Her hair was coming undone, and she irritably released it from its tightly coiled bun, running her fingers through it and then draping it over one shoulder.
She could feel herself sliding into sleep when the doorbell sounded. It penetrated her fuggy brain like the sudden buzz of a wasp, and as she blinked her way to the surface became shrill and insistent until she could ignore it no longer.
Shoeless, hair everywhere, she stormed to the front door, yanked it open, and then felt her mouth turn to ash.
âI gave it half an hour,' Bruno said coldly, âand then I phoned your secretary, to be told that you had left some time ago. To come and see me. At my office. As instructed.' He folded his arms and lounged against the door-frame.
âWhat have you come here for?' She could control her words, but not the tenor of her voice, and she heard the faint tremble in it with a mixture of disgust and panic.
He was everything and more than she remembered. Taller, leaner, more bronzed, and infinitely more disturbing. She felt suffocated by his presence, literally choking from the impact of seeing him here, on her doorstep. How on earth had she ever been able to tell him goodbye, to inform him that she was not open to his offer of casual mistress once they returned to England, to let him know that he had been no more than a wonderful but temporary liaison? How had she ever thought that she could return to her normal life and put him down to experience?
âTo see you,' he informed her, his voice ice. âI came here because it was obvious that you had left the office with no intention whatsoever of taking a taxi to the City.' He reached inside his trouser pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper. âMind telling me what this is all about?'
It was her letter of resignation. She recognised the paper, and the glimpse of signature at the bottom of the typed page. In the absence of her direct boss, she had made sure to send it to the personnel department, never imagining that it would find its way to Bruno Carr. She should have known better. Hadn't he always made a point of saying how au fait he was with everything that happened in his various companies? Clearly it had been no idle boast.
âCome in.' She stepped aside to let him enter. It was strange seeing him like this after all this time. A wall had developed between them and it hurt to remember how easy they had been with one another. It seemed like a lifetime away. As he brushed past her she could feel her skin crawl, and her pulses began to race.
She didn't know what the hell she was going to tell him, but she knew that he wouldn't leave until she provided him with an answer. Any answer. Any answer but the truth.
âWould you like a cup of tea?' she asked politely. âSome coffee?' With a change of clothes she could be a waitress, she thought, so impersonal was her voice, and by way of response he threw her a dark, brooding scowl, before walking towards the sitting room and making himself comfortable on one of the chairs.
âI'll pass on the drink,' he told her sarcastically. âSorry. I guess that means a little less time for you to try and fabricate an excuse.'
âI wasn't going to do any such thing.' She picked the end of the sofa furthest away from him and sat down. Even at this distance, she could feel him as strongly as if he were touching her.
âHow did you get hold of my resignation?' she asked eventually. It was hard to maintain her composure and she found herself leaning forward, her elbows resting on her knees.
Oh, God. She had never envisaged laying eyes on him again. This was her worst nightmare.
âI keep tabs on everything that goes on in my company,' he informed her icily. âIt's my business.'
âOf course.'
âCorrect me if I'm wrong,' he said, sitting back and tossing her letter of resignation dismissively on the table between them, âbut the last time I saw you, you were perfectly happy with your job.'
âThings change.' She shrugged and threw him an apologetic smile, which did nothing to alter his thunderous expression. The steady, polite smile on her face slipped a little. âI decided that the job just wasn't challenging enough for me,' she told him, thinking on her feet, and steering far away from any possible excuse which might encourage him to smell a rat. âI suppose it was the anticlimax of your court case. I realised that I no longer had anything to get my teeth into.' She could feel herself building up some very convenient momentum with this line of reasoning. It was beginning to sound more and more plausible.
She still couldn't quite meet his eyes though. So, instead, she addressed the space slightly to the left of his ear. Craven but necessary if her heart wasn't to start doing unmanageable things behind her ribcage. She could already feel most of her confident assertions, which she had made repeatedly to herself over the past few weeksâthat he was insignificant in her life, a ship that had passed in the nightâebbing away at a furious rate.
âWhat a period of revelations for you,' he commented acidly.
âYes. Yes, it was! And what's the problem here anyway?' she snapped, going onto the attack. âI assume your employees aren't chained to your companies for life! I assume they're at liberty to move on! Tell me, do you subject each and every employee who has the temerity to try and resign to this kind of third degree?' Her heart was pounding and her face was bright red. She could feel it burning as though her whole body were on fire.
She desperately wanted to be angry with him. If need be, she would generate her own spurious argument, because the anger was her only point of protection. She knew that any other reaction would allow memories to seep through, and she couldn't allow that to happen.
âSo you were suddenly disillusioned with your job. And I take it that you've already found something else? Or were you so disillusioned that you decided to throw it all in and to heck with the possibility of earning nothing? No,' he said slowly to himself, while she listened to his line of reasoning with helpless frustration. âSurely not. You've always made such a point of being in control of your life, of needing to be in control of your life, that you'd hardly pack in a hefty pay cheque on wild impulse. Which leaves us with your new job. What is it? I'm all ears.'
He sat back and allowed himself the satisfied smile of the cat that had successfully cornered the mouse.