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He put his hands on her bare shoulders, toying with the shoestring straps of the chemise. ‘Seeing you in this erotic piece of confection excites me,’ he admitted huskily. ‘I very much want to make love with you. But I wanted you to know why it’s so important to me that there not be any mistake about what you’re really feeling. You need to know what you’re taking on when you invite me to be your lover. I don’t want my first time with a woman to be a one-night stand or a casual fling. For once in my life I want the woman of my desiring to come to me freely—from joy, not from sorrow…’
She bit her lip, torn between fear of the tumultuous emotions his words had aroused and the wild passion urging her to throw caution to the winds and take what she wanted—and worry about having to pay for it later.
Instead of disappointing him, her gnawing teeth, softly furrowed brow and slightly resentful gold stare brought a sultry amusement to his gaze. He smoothed his hands over her elbows and down to the wide swell of her hips, applying enough firm pressure to turn her around to face the way she had come.
‘Of course, I expect the sex to be utterly spectacular when we do get together,’ he murmured in her ear as he gently propelled her to the door, his warm hand curving on her rounded bottom for a final farewell pat. ‘So remind me to make sure those motion sensors are switched off; otherwise, when the earth moves for us, we’ll have a squad of policemen thundering into our bedroom!’
CHAPTER NINE
RACHEL was given no chance to suffer any morning-after awkwardness from the night before.
Surprisingly, considering the state in which she had finally gone to bed, she had slept dreamlessly and well, to be woken next morning by the kiss of dark-roasted coffee on her nostrils. Opening her eyes, she saw Matt, breakfast tray in hand, sitting himself down on the side of her bed. As she struggled upright against the luxurious stack of fluffy pillows behind her he leaned over to place the light silver tray across her lap.
‘Good morning!’ he said with shattering cheerfulness.
Still dazed with sleep, Rachel looked down at the crisp strips of curling bacon and a sunny egg, surrounded by triangles of wholemeal toast and garnished with a yellow rosebud. A glass of orange juice stood beside the gently steaming coffee cup. She couldn’t remember when she had last been offered the luxury of breakfast in bed.
‘I can’t eat all this,’ she protested automatically, tucking the silk sheet modestly across her breasts.
‘I’ll help.’ Matt casually hitched up the drooping left shoulder-strap on
her chemise, and, smiling into her slumberous eyes, filched a piece of bacon, crunching into it with his strong white teeth.
‘Did you cook this?’ she asked, picking up her fork, trying not to notice how sexy he looked in pale blue jeans and a crisp, white cotton shirt open at the throat. She was in danger of getting sex on the brain!
‘Sara did—my housekeeper,’ he said. ‘I had something earlier—but I’ve worked up a whole new appetite waiting for you to wake up.’ Her fork clattered against her plate as his not-so-innocent smile invited her to speculate on which particular new appetite he had in mind. ‘Eat up. We have a busy day ahead of us.’
‘We do?’ Had he guessed she might wake up with cold feet, appalled by the way she had thrown herself at him?
‘Well, a single announcement doesn’t an engagement make, you know. If we want to persuade people we’re a genuine couple we have to act like a proper couple. Fortunately, I’ve never been flamboyant enough to be of interest to the popular press. My PR man had to offer a serious bribe to get that little titbit about us in yesterday’s paper. So if the photos do surface I don’t think even the tabloids will work up any enthusiasm about some boring businessman’s faked-up cavortings with his fiancé…’
Rachel knew when she was being distracted. ‘What do you mean, act like a couple…?’ she asked dubiously.
She found out over the next few days, as all her spare time was reassigned to support the notion of their ‘whirlwind courtship’.
First was their Sunday visit to the hospital, where Rachel had to suffer the embarrassment of being fussed over by Dorothy Riordan, who chided her son for having been in too much of a rush to even buy a ring for his new fiancé.
‘She couldn’t decide which one she wanted,’ he lied with a grin. ‘She’s a hard woman to please.’
‘That’s not true, Mrs Riordan,’ Rachel defended herself vigorously. ‘Matt didn’t even bother to ask me to marry him. He simply announced it to the world!’
There—that had wiped the smirk off his face!
Instead of looking properly disapproving, the other woman was amused by her son’s sudden chagrin.
‘Did he really? What a coincidence—his father did much the same thing when he met me. I must say, it did make for a very exhilarating courtship,’ she added reminiscently, observing the crackling tension between the pair. ‘As I told you the other day, my dear…Matt can be annoyingly managing…’
‘I call it being masterful,’ he said, to which Rachel answered with an inelegant snort.
‘I haven’t mentioned it to your dad yet, darling…you know what he’s like,’ the sprightly lady warned Matt as he prepared to look in on his father. ‘I think we’d better leave it until safely after his operation tomorrow, don’t you? He’s bound to get excited. He still has that crazy bee in his bonnet about…’ She nudged Matt aside and lowered her voice to a stage whisper which was clearly audible to Rachel’s burning ears. ‘About you and you know who…’
Matt patted his mother’s shoulder with a chuckle. ‘It’s OK, Mum, Rachel knows all about Cheryl-Ann. And she’s more than capable of standing up to Dad if he tries to cut up rough. She might not have the social pedigree he’s been touting for, but she has far more enduring qualities. She has the heart of a lion, the strength of an Amazon, the compassion of an angel…all wrapped up in the most gorgeous body I’ve ever seen!’
‘You didn’t have to lay it on so thick,’ muttered Rachel afterwards. ‘You made me sound like a cross between Joan of Arc, Wonderwoman and a Playboy bunny! I hate deceiving your mother like this; she’s going to be so hurt when she finds out this is all a pack of lies.’
‘Why should she? If our engagement doesn’t end up at the altar she’ll be disappointed for me, but I know she’d prefer to see us break up than for me to go through another wretched marriage.’
If…? Not when? Rachel wondered whether to challenge him on his use of words as he continued.
