Sentimental Journey Page 10

  Jessica ignored that. "Do you want your bourbon straight?"

  "A splash of water and a couple of ice cubes will do."

  She added two cubes of ice from the refrigerator and set the drink on the counter beside him. Unconsciously her hand moved to hold the gaping front of her robe together.

  "It will only take me a couple of minutes to change. Have your drink. I'll take care of the cooking when I get back."

  "I'll cook," Brodie insisted. "I'm very good. Don't forget I've led the life of a bachelor almost since I learned how to walk."

  As it turned out, he was an excellent cook. The steaks were done to perfection, the new potatoes were steamed to lose none of their flavor. The sauce for the asparagus spears was creamier than Jessica had ever been able to make hers. Dessert was fresh strawberries.

  Not only had the meal been superb, but so had the company and the conversation. They had talked about everything, argued over politics, agreed on musical tastes, had a few favorite authors in common. Over coffee, the subject had shifted to his business and the two men who worked so closely with him; his attorney and financial advisor—both of whom Jessica had met the previous week.

  "Drew has practically become my right arm." Brodie swirled the half an inch of coffee left in his cup. "He's a very valuable man. I don't know how I got as far as I did without him."

  The candlelight flickered and waned. The dancing flames drew Jessica's attention to the carved candleholders in the center of the table, the ones Brodie had bought for her. It seemed appropriate that they should be used for the first time with him.

  "I think Drew has a great deal of respect and admiration for you, too," she commented.

  "Why do you say that?" Their eyes met over the diminishing candles.

  "Marian told me how much he enjoys his work, which has to mean that he enjoys working with you. That kind of feeling only comers when you respect and admire the other person. Besides—" she smiled "—he has to love his work or he wouldn't put up with the schedule you keep!"

  "It gets hectic," Brodie admitted with a wry twist to his mouth. "You lose track of time and cities. All airports look alike."

  Jessica noticed his cup was empty. "More coffee?"

  "Please." He handed it to her in its saucer.

  "Why haven't you ever married, Brodie?" she asked curiously, rising from the table to refill his cup.

  "Who says I'm not?"

  His reply hit her in the stomach. Shaken, she let go of the cup and saucer, which shattered on the floor. She clutched the back of her chair for support. Until that moment, it had never occurred to her that he might be married. Marian had said she'd seen him with other women, but she'd also said that he kept his private life private.

  "You've broken the cup." Brodie rose from his chair and stooped to pick up the pieces.

  Jessica stared at him. His hair gleamed blue black in the candlelight. The white of his shirt stretched across his broad, muscled shoulders and back.

  When he straightened to hand her the broken pieces, she found her voice. "Are you?"

  "Am I what?" A black brow arched in deliberate ignorance.

  "Are you married?"

  "Are you afraid you might be on the verge of having an affair with a married man?" he mocked the ashen color of her complexion, her eyes as green and round as the unbroken saucer. "It wouldn't be proper for a woman tike you to become involved in a triangle like that, would it?"

  Her fingers dug into the wooden back of the chair. "Answer me, Brodie! Don't play games."

  "As it happens—" when she didn't take the pieces from him, he set them on the table "—I'm not married. Does that make you feel better?"

  "Is that the truth?" Jessica continued to eye him warily, swallowing at the tightness in her throat.

  "Don't you believe me?" he taunted softly.

  "I don't know what to believe." She turned away, angry and frightened and uncertain. She crossed her arms, rubbing her hands over her elbows.

  Silently Brodie came up behind her, his large hands closing around the soft flesh of her upper arms. "You can believe this." He kissed her neck.

  Jessica lifted her shoulder to deny him access to her neck a second time, but he moved to the other side. She tried to twist away. Instead she was turned into his arms.

  "And you can believe this." His mouth brushed her lips before she could turn them away.

  "Stop it!" She kept her head lowered and mined to one side, but she didn't struggle.

  "You're hurt and confused, aren't you?" His voice held amusement.

  "Yes, damn you!" Jessica hissed.

  The heat from his body was burning her skin, the muskiness of his male scent like a drug to her senses. She was aware how tantalizingly close his mouth was. All of these things stirred her blood.

  "You're trembling," Brodie accused softly, "but not from anger. I can see that pulse beating in your throat. I make you feel things that you're not sure you should feel, especially with a married man. But if this is sinning, Green Eyes, imagine what heaven must be."

  "Stop playing this cruel game!" She closed her eyes for a second, then opined them to give him a sideways glance. "Are you married or not?"

  "I've already answered that question. Why should I repeat myself if you didn't believe me the first time?" he challenged with an arrogant shrug. "I can't prove it. I don't carry around a piece of paper that says I'm unmarried, do you?"

  "Of course not," Jessica answered impatiently.

  "Then why should I believe that you're not married? Maybe you have a jealous husband lurking in some corner waiting to surprise us when we climb into bed, mmm?" He tucked a finger under her chin and turned it to face him, a wicked light dancing in his eyes.

  "I don't think it's funny!" She flashed him an angry look.

  "Neither do I. I hope to die in bed, but not by the hands of your husband," Brodie mocked.

  "Stop it! You know I don't have a husband, jealous or otherwise," she snapped.

  "What about me?" Brodie tilted his head to one side. "Look at me and tell me you think I have a wife tucked away somewhere."

  Jessica lifted her gaze, but it faltered under his piercing stare, so sharply blue. She shook her head. "I can't."

  "Then if I ask you to have dinner with me Saturday night, you'll accept?" He phrased it as a question.

  The breath she released was a sign of surrender, unwilling but inevitable. "Yes, I'll accept," Jessica nodded.

  "With feeling, Green Eyes," Brodie demanded.

  Defiance flared as she looked up. "Damn you—"

  She heard his throaty chuckle of triumph before his mouth descended on her vulnerable lips, parted in speech. They stayed that way under his direction. His hands moved to her hips, molding them tighter to his thighs. Her fingers, spread across his chest, slipped inside his shirt to tangle themselves in the froth of black hair.

  "I have to leave, Jessica," he finally muttered against her mouth.

  "Now?" Her breath was shaky, her lips trembling against the solid outline of his warm mouth. She couldn't believe he meant it.

  "Yes, now." But his mouth refused to leave the corner of hers. "My plane is waiting for me."

  "Again?" It came out in a moan of protest.

  "I only flew in here to be with you tonight because I couldn't stay away a second longer."

  Jessica could feel the disturbed pattern of his heartbeat. Not very different from her own. "I'm glad you did," she admitted.

  His hands reached up to grip her shoulders and push her away from him. "If I leave now, I'll have just enough time to take a cold shower before we take off." He studied the glazed look of passion in her eyes. "Unless you want me to shower here…with you."

  She hesitated, wavering between the yes of her flesh and the no of her mind. There was a cynical slant to his mouth.

  "One of these days you aren't going to have to think before you answer, Jessica." He let go of her. "Saturday. Eight o'clock."

  "Yes."

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  Chapter Nine

  SATURDAY COULDN'T ARRIVE too quickly for Jessica. She fluctuated between walking on air and dragging herself through the pits of depression. She spent half of her paycheck on a beige pantsuit that looked more like a pair of silk pyjamas, then worried how she would eat.

  Marian's comment about Brodie's constantly changing plans had her listening for the ring of the phone. Pessimistically, she expected him to cancel their date.

  Saturday night arrived and she was ready at seven. The mantel clock ticked away each second, all thirty-six hundred of them. This time Brodie didn't arrive early. He didn't arrive on time, either.

  One minute after eight, Jessica began pacing the floor. She began imagining the reasons he might be delayed. Business, traffic, plane trouble. She glanced toward the phone, wondering if there had been an air crash.

  Five minutes later she reached for the phone and the doorbell rang. She raced to the door and swung it open wide. Then she couldn't move, because Brodie was alive and unharmed.

  "Don't you ever check first to see who's outside?" he smiled.

  "I knew it was you."

  One jacketed arm curved around her waist while the other pushed the door shut. Jessica's fingers slid along his lapel toward his neck. His hands locked behind her back, arching her to his length. The contact with his hard, muscled body seemed suddenly very intimate. The lines deepened around his mouth, suggesting that he knew exactly the upheaval he was causing to her fluttering heart and weakening knees.

  "One of these days you're going to open that door to a stranger," Brodie warned. "You need a peephole installed."

  "The apartment manager has been promising ones" Jessica admitted.

  While she looked up to his face, Brodie looked down to hers. The peephole was the farthest thing from her mind, but it was impossible to read what was written in his eyes. All she knew was that it was doing crazy things to her, like making her feel that she was wearing nothing beneath her pantsuit with its lacy, ribboned neckline, and she knew very well that she was.

  "You're wearing the necklace I gave you," Brodie observed, but Jessica had the distinct feeling that his gaze was focused lower than the diamond at her throat.

  "Yes." She felt out of breath and tried to control the rapid rise and fall of her breasts.

  "No earrings. Is that an invitation to nibble?" He bent his head to gently take her earlobe between his teeth. The warmth of his breath stirred all sorts of fires.

  "I didn't have a pair that looked right." Desire throbbed in her voice.

  It was a short side trip from her ear to her lips, but Brodie seemed to make it in record time. His mouth moved slowly in reexploring familiar territory, not ending the kiss until he had reinvestigated each curve and line of her lips.

  "We can correct that," he said.

  "Correct what?" What had been wrong? Jessica's quivering lips had found nothing wrong with the kiss. The only thing unsatisfactory about it was that it had ended.

  Without answering, he reached into his inside pocket, his sleeved arm brushing across the front of her breasts. When he drew his hand out, it was holding a small square box. With a deft flick of his fingers, he snapped the lid open and a pair of diamond-studded earrings winked out at her, the brilliant gems as large as the solitaire of her necklace.

  A cold chill ran down her spine, the same as before. She shook her head in a mute, negative rush of feeling. Her throat worked convulsively to ease the strangling constriction.

  "Brodie, don't give them to me," she managed finally.

  "It's a shame to break up a matched set, don't you think?" His arm at her waist made no attempt to hold her when she turned to walk away. "You'd better get used to accepting gifts from me, Jessica, because you're going to get a lot from me. I'll never come to your door empty-handed."

  Jessica glanced over her shoulder, her green eyes rounded and appealing in their confusion. His rough, compelling features were drawn in such grim lines. Why did he have to bring presents, she wondered. Because he had come empty-handed to her sister's door and been turned away? Didn't he realize that for her all he had to have in his hand was his heart? Perhaps he did. Perhaps he was giving her presents because he couldn't give her what she really wanted.

  She controlled a shudder and offered a stiff, surrendering smile. "In that case, I'd better start learning to accept it now." But she wasn't referring to the gift.

  When he walked over, Jessica removed the earrings from their jeweler's case and moved to the mirror to put them on. This time Brodie's reflection didn't join hers in the mirror and she faced him to receive his approval.

  "How do they look?" Her brightness was forced.

  "Beautiful." His response lacked emotion.

  Standing there, with his feet slightly apart and a hand thrust into his pants pocket, he resembled a model out of the latest magazine of men's fashions. Smoke curled from the cigarette in his other hand. His rugged countenance was sternly masculine and forbidding in its expression of indifference.

  Something inside Jessica shivered. "Are we ready to go?"

  Over dinner, the atmosphere changed. Her apprehensions were temporarily forgotten under the spell of Brodie's charm. Again he became the companionable escort. They talked and laughed and discussed any subject. Not once was Jessica subjected to any of his mocking taunts. They seemed to come only when the air, or his thoughts, were heavy with passion.

  It was nearly midnight when they paused at the door of her apartment. Brodie took the key from her and inserted it into the lock.

  "Are you going to pretend to invite me in for coffee?" He pushed open the door and waited.

  "Are you going to pretend to come in for coffee?" Jessica countered.

  "Of course." His arm curved around her waist to guide her inside.

  Closing the door, Brodie returned the key to her. Jessica dropped it in her bag and started toward the kitchen, but he caught her hand to stop her.

  "Where are you going?"

  "To put the coffee on."

  "Pretend it's already on and we're waiting for it to be made." He kept a firm hold on her hand, drawing her with him as he walked to the sofa.

  He sat down and pulled her onto his lap. He wasted no more time on talk or preliminaries, his mouth unerringly finding hers in the dimness of the room. Her arms wound around his neck as she returned the slow-burning fire of his kiss.

  All her nerves and senses were vibrantly alive and glowing under the golden heat of his kiss. Its warmth melted her inhibitions and a languorous passion was stealing through her bones.

  His hand slid under the silky hem of her pantsuit top to reach her bare skin, setting her flesh on fire. With unhurried progress, his touch moved to the confining material of her bra. His fingers circled inside to cup the swelling roundness of her breast. A gasping sigh of sweet pleasure was muffled by his possessing kiss.

  She was forced backward, onto the cushions of the sofa. Brodie followed her down, his length stretching partially on and beside her. His hands were stroking and molding her hips and thighs, arousing and satisfying the desire to fit her to every bruising contour of his body; A primitive need ached through her, a throbbing to have the expertise of his lovemaking brought to consummation.

  "I want you, Green Eyes." Brodie nuzzled her neck, his voice thickened to a husky level. "For God's sake, don't say no!"

  Jessica breathed in sharply, but it wasn't his request that was affecting her. His mouth had brushed her ear and she felt the cold metal of the diamond studs, precious gold and brilliant gems, so very expensive.

  With a sudden twist she rolled away from him, stumbling upright to take a shaky step away from the sofa. She was hot with shame and a sense of degradation for the commitment she had almost made.

  "I can't," she choked the denial. Her trembling fingers fought their way through the thickness of her blond hair to an earring. They made her feel like a mistress who had been rewarded in advance s of pleasure given. "I…I feel as if I'v
e been bought."

  A pair of hands swung her violently around, sending the earring flying from her fingers. "Dammit, Jessica!" Brodie exploded with a fury that took her breath away. "We've been through that before!"

  Nothing masked the fiery blast of rage in his eyes. "I…I know, Jessica stammered through her shock, intimidated by this profound display of emotion when she had almost believed him incapable of feeling anything deeply.

  "The jewelry was a gift!" he snarled. "Not a payment for services!"

  "I know." Her head bobbed in admission of what he had previously told her.

  Brodie released his bruising hold of her shoulders with an obvious disdain. His carriage was rigid with anger as he stalked to where the earring lay, a sparkling treasure in the threads of the shag carpet. He picked it up and held it out to her.

  "Here," he challenged, his tone icy.

  Hesitantly, Jessica reached out and took it from his hand. She stared at the diamond, believing him and knowing she had accused him unjustly. Her conscience, her own sense of guilt, had caused the words.

  "I'm sorry." She whispered the words, her head lowered, blond hair swinging forward to conceal her colorless cheeks.

  He lifted her chin. "We'll have dinner next week. I don't know which night—I'll have to call you."

  All she had to do was tell him not to bother and she knew she would never see him again. "Yes," she agreed, because the thought of not seeing him again was worse than the gifts she was loath to accept.

  Holding her chin, Brodie pressed a cool kiss on her mouth. "Good night."

  She murmured an answer as he walked to the door. He paused to send her one last look, his expression unreadable. Then the door was closing behind him.

  DURING THE NEXT MONTH Jessica saw Brodie at least once a week, sometimes twice. Always he brought a gift, a jade bracelet one time, a cashmere sweater another. Jessica never made any protest, accepting them and concealing, she hoped, the heaviness of her heart.

  The sky outside the glass doors of her balcony was ink black. A crash of lightning illuminated trees whipped by the wind. The violent burst of light was followed by a roar of thunder that rumbled to shake the ground and rattle the glass in the windows. Rain lashed the panes, driven by a savage wind.