Sinful Nights (31 page)

‘I’ll go and make the coffee,’ she said hurriedly.

They had fallen into the habit of continuing the conversation begun over the dinner table through coffee and often until quite late in the evening. Joel was interesting to listen to, and he made Lissa feel that he valued her opinions. She had never enjoyed anyone’s company as much as she enjoyed his and it came to her as she
busied herself in the kitchen that if he were to leave her life now, there would be an acutely painful void. But the fact that she found him good company and mentally stimulating did not account for her rapid pulse and accelerated breathing … neither did it account for the disturbing physical response she had just experienced. She wasn’t totally naive; she had felt physical desire before even if it had only been fleetingly. But this was different … this was Joel. She couldn’t desire Joel. Why not, an inner voice demanded to know? Why
shouldn’t
she desire him? Because … because … Because what? The same voice jeered. Because you’d convinced yourself you hated him? Because you resented the fact that as a teenager he found you totally uninteresting until the night of that party.

Lissa bit down hard on her bottom lip, trying to quell her rebellious thoughts. It was true, she was forced to acknowledge with painful honesty, that on the very brief occasions on which she had seen Joel before that night—and they had been fleeting in the extreme—she had been instantly struck by the masculine aura he carried about him. Amanda had caught her staring at him once with rounded eyes and had teased her about it.

‘For goodness sake don’t go and develop a crush on Joel,’ she had warned her. ‘He eats little girls like you for breakfast.’

Unwilling to follow her thoughts any further, Lissa made the coffee and carried it through into the sitting room. Joel was reading a farming magazine which he put down to take the tray from her, asking briefly, ‘Okay now?’

When Lissa nodded he added. ‘I’m sorry I missed the girls’ bedtime tonight. I’ll be glad when I’ve got the responsibility for the factory off my hands. I’ve been neglecting my own work recently … and I don’t intend to be just a figurehead in the girls’ lives—someone they hear about but rarely see. As my own father was to me,’ he added, surprising her with this information about his childhood.

‘Oh yes,’ he told her obviously reading her mind. ‘Like you, I was very much second best as far as my father was concerned. He and I never hit it off the way he and John did, although my childhood was nothing like as traumatic as yours.’

‘Mine was bad because I reacted too emotionally,’ Lissa told him. ‘I was too sensitive … too easily hurt and confused.’ She got up to pick up the sweater she was knitting for Louise, and as she did so, stumbled against Joel’s chair.

Instantly his hand shot out to steady her, his arm supporting her as she fell, so that somehow she ended up in his lap feeling both stupidly clumsy and flustered, but strangely enough with no desire to shrink away from him; with none of the tension she would have expected to feel.

‘Lissa?’

She looked at him automatically, smiling herself when she saw the amusement lightening his eyes and curling his mouth. ‘Do you suppose Louise is going to expect me to kiss you goodbye every morning?’ he asked her in a lazy drawl.

The teasing amusement in his voice was familiar to
her and she responded to it relaxing in the half circle of his arm, shrugging easily.

‘Umm … well
I
suspect that she is,’ he continued softly, ‘and that being the case I definitely feel our technique could do with a little polishing.’

‘I …’ Whatever objection she had been about to make slid from her mind forever when Joel slid his fingers into her hair, their warmth spread across the back of her scalp, heating her skin, preventing her from moving; from avoiding the sensually slow downward movement of his head, as his lips feathered softly across her skin. First her temple, then the corner of her eye; the vulnerable hollow of her cheekbone where his breath against her ear, coupled with the slowly gentle movement of his fingers against her scalp, made her shiver with pleasure. With
pleasure!
Lissa acknowledged numbly, hearing him murmur her name and responding automatically to the sound of his voice so that she turned towards him unwittingly facilitating the warm glide of his mouth against her own.

She had been kissed before; and had even enjoyed those kisses, before she discovered the truth about herself, but this somehow was different. For a start no one had ever kissed her with such gentle thoroughness; such innate tenderness and yet somehow at the same time conveying that there was a potential within that tenderness for something deeper and far more dangerous. There was nothing intimidating or frightening about the way Joel’s mouth moved on hers, and yet her body was aware with a deep nerve-tingling frisson of awareness
that if she were to signal that she desired it there could be much, much more.

And she
did
desire it, Lissa acknowledged inwardly … Unbelievably she was tempted to slide her arms round Joel’s neck and hold him closer, to press her body against his and feel it harden with masculine desire.

She wanted him to make love to her! Immediately she tensed and he let her go. Instinctively she veiled her eyes from him, frightened of what he might see in them; that he might guess what she was feeling. And what? she asked herself. Take advantage of it? Feel sorry for her? She scarcely knew which she disliked the most. Somehow she managed to scramble off his knee, and outside the inner turmoil of her thoughts she was aware of the sound of her own voice, high and tense, gabbling inanities about the time, desperately trying to provide a smokescreen for her to hide behind.

She knew that Joel was studying her, watching her with unnerving narrow eyed scrutiny. What was he thinking? Why had he kissed her? If it had just been a game then it had been a cruel one, and somehow unlike the man she knew him to be.

‘Lissa, sometimes I’ll have to kiss you,’ he said quietly at last. ‘It’s expected occasionally of married couples, even in these enlightened times.’

That drew a shaky smile from her, and he smiled too. ‘Surely it wasn’t so bad?’ There was a whimsical quality to his smile that relaxed her.

‘No, of course not.’ So that was it. Joel was just trying to accustom her to the social kisses they might have
to exchange, but there had been a warm persuasiveness in the movement of his mouth against hers that had reminded her that he was a powerfully virile man and so she said awkwardly, ‘Joel … what will you do … what will happen …? You can’t live the rest of your life in celibacy,’ she managed at last.

‘Lissa, I’ve got so much on my mind at the moment that there just isn’t room for sexual frustration,’ he told her drily. ‘When there is …’ He shrugged and then said tightlipped, ‘Well let’s just say I won’t burden you with it.’

T
HE NEXT MORNING
Louise didn’t have to remind Joel to kiss her. He bent automatically and dropped a light caress on Lissa’s cheek as he got up from the table, and she told herself that it couldn’t possibly be disappointment that coursed through her at the lightness of that brief, preoccupied touch.

Joel was late coming home again. Louise pouted a little when she discovered that he wouldn’t be there to read her bedtime story, but eventually settled down. In fact Lissa was delighted with the way both little girls had adapted to their new environment. Whenever Louise mentioned her parents Lissa made a point of talking to her about them, encouraging her to keep their memory alive without touching on the tragedy of their death. Louise seemed to have accepted the fact that they were gone from her life in the physical sense, although sometimes she betrayed a tendency to cling to either Joel or herself, Lissa acknowledged.

At eight o’clock Joel rang to say that he was on his
way home. He sounded tired and yet good humoured. ‘I’ve settled on someone for the Managing Directorship,’ he told her. ‘He starts next week.’

‘Louise will be pleased,’ Lissa told him. ‘She was complaining tonight because you weren’t here to read her story.’

Anyone listening to them would think them a long married couple, Lissa reflected when she replaced the receiver. But they were not married. Not in the real sense. What
would
Joel be like as a lover? Considerate, skilled, passionate …? Stop it she warned herself. Why was she continually exhibiting this desire to dance with danger … to flirt, even if it was only in the privacy of her own mind, with the idea of Joel as a lover?

Perhaps it was because the thought that he never would be piqued her interest. But it wasn’t pique alone that was responsible for the surge of physical awareness she felt whenever he was in the room.

She heard his car draw up as she was putting the final touches to their meal. He walked into the kitchen, surprising her with a brief kiss on her exposed nape, the way in which her bones turned to melting heat surprising her even more.

‘Champagne,’ he told her with a grin, showing her the bottle. ‘I thought we’d celebrate the end of my career with Hargreaves International.’

Lissa laughed, catching his mood, banishing him from the kitchen while she finished what she was doing.

They had the champagne before dinner—and after it, and although Lissa demurred Joel insisted on her drinking some wine with her meal.

By the time she got up from the table she felt distinctly lightheaded, but in such a relaxed carefree way that she couldn’t refuse when Joel refilled her champagne glass. ‘We’ve got to finish it,’ he told her, ‘otherwise it will go flat.’

The golden bubbles tickled her throat, sliding smoothly down it inducing a sensation of relaxed light-heartedness inside her. Even her blood seemed to be fizzing slightly. They talked, or at least Joel did, while she listened in a hazy cotton wool, other-worldly cloud of relaxation. Occasionally she had the impression that he was watching her … waiting for something … but she dismissed it as imagination. At ten o’clock she started yawning and when Joel suggested she go to bed she didn’t demur.

‘I’ll clear these away,’ he told her, indicating the empty glasses. ‘Sure you can manage?’ He grinned as she stood up and promptly wobbled slightly.

‘If you’re suggesting that I’m tipsy, then you’re quite right,’ she told him, ‘and what’s more it’s all your fault.’

‘Want me to carry you upstairs, or can you manage on your own two feet?’ He said it teasingly, and yet when he looked at her Lissa felt the most unexpected surge of desire kick upwards along her nervous system. She giggled nervously to conceal it and shook her head.

Once upstairs, she showered languidly, studying the smooth slickness of her wet skin as she stepped out and reached for a towel. Her body was something she rarely looked at as a rule, but tonight she found herself studying it, aware of a certain sensuality to it that she had never noticed before. Fleetingly she wondered if Joel
still found her desirable, trying to dismiss the thought as she towelled herself dry and then slipped on her cotton nightie, but unable to do so. She was like a child, excited by the thought of playing with fire, even while she knew that parental rule protected her from doing so she thought, angry with herself, trying to shake off the languorous indolence of her movements.

She had just climbed into bed when Joel came in.

‘I’ve brought you a nightcap,’ he told her, handing her another glass. ‘The last of the champagne. Drink it, it will help you sleep.’

The glass was three quarters full and Lissa sipped at it, watching him move about the bedroom. He took off his shirt and as though she were an observer to her own reactions she found herself monitoring her own physical response to him. His skin was faintly olive, tanned and sleek, his muscles hard without being over-developed. He disappeared into the bathroom, and Lissa heard the shower running.

She had just about finished her champagne when he came back and she watched him walk towards her.

‘Finished?’ As he got into bed beside her, he turned towards her and took her glass. She was still sitting up and as he turned away to put the glass on the tray his hand rested lightly on her shoulder preventing her from lying down. The bedside lamps were still on and as Lissa reached out to snap hers off, Joel reached across her, his arm a dark bar against the whiteness of her nightdress. For some reason Lissa seemed unable to take her eyes off it. Her light went out, Joel’s arm moving against her body. Wonderingly she touched the olive
skin of his forearm, completely absorbed in the sensation of his skin beneath her fingertips, warm and vital. She looked up at him, his face half in the shadow thrown by the other lamp. He leaned forward and his lips brushed hers. Curiously she was neither surprised nor apprehensive. It seemed as though some part of her mind had known that he was going to kiss her and directed her to turn into his kiss rather than away from it. His hand left the lamp and curled round her, turning her, but all her concentration was fixed on and fascinated by the slow movement of his mouth against her own and her own response to it. Easily, fluidly, she felt the natural reaction of her body to his proximity. Her mouth parted at the gentle insistence of his tongue, her senses half bewildered and totally confused by the delicately explorative way he ran it over her lips. She wanted more … more than this lightly arousing intimacy she realised inwardly, but that knowledge did not shock or frighten her. On the contrary, it seemed completely natural and right. So much so, that her hands lifted to Joel’s neck, her lips parting yearningly for his kiss.

But he didn’t kiss her. Instead he lay down, pulling her down on top of him, burying his face in her hair, tightening one arm round her waist while the thumb of his free hand, probed and stroked the vulnerable skin of her neck. Tiny frissons of pleasure shivered through her and while she knew Joel must be aware of them, she didn’t feel ashamed or embarrassed, instead she arched closer to him, closing her eyes and abandoning herself to the shivering delight he was arousing.

‘Lissa … Lissa, look at me.’ His lips brushed lightly
over her closed eyelids and dutifully she opened them drowning in the deep gold pools of his. He kissed her cheek, lightly, trailing tantalising kisses to the corner of her mouth. Lissa gave a small tormented moan. She wanted him to kiss her properly. Almost as though he knew how she felt his mouth touched hers. But the contact was too light … to fleeting. He kissed her again just as lightly and Lissa could feel the blood drumming frantically in her veins. Her fingers curled protestingly into his shoulder, her lips clinging pleadingly to his when he kissed her again. Her small moan of protest when the pressure she craved for was removed was checked as his mouth returned to hers, this time satisfying the hunger inside her. Lissa gasped, reality melting like snow in the desert sun. Suddenly nothing was more important than that Joel kept on kissing her as he was doing right now. When he slid her nightdress straps off her shoulder she shuddered in reaction to his fingers against her skin but it wasn’t a shudder of rejection. How had she never known until now how right it would be to feel his hand against her breast, slowly stroking its rounded shape. She made a sound beneath his kiss, suddenly hating the intrusion of her cotton nightdress for coming between his touch and her skin, and when he released her mouth she tugged ineffectually at the fabric protesting huskily, ‘It’s in the way Take it off.’