A Stormy Spring (2 page)

For a moment he toyed with the idea of seducing her back to bed but those big eyes staring at him in silent appeal held him back.

He stepped towards her, zipped up his pants and sent her an intimate smile.

Much better to play it cool. Keep it friendly and relaxed.

‘The least I can do after such a wonderful night is to offer you breakfast.’ He picked up the telephone and kept a sharp eye on her. With a little frown wrinkling her smooth forehead she moved towards the centre of the room.

He indicated the couch. ‘Please, Becca, sit down. We can be civilised about this.’

Becca kept a wary eye on him as he ordered enough breakfast to feed a family of four.

Her stomach growled and she took a breath.

Okay, be an adult, you can do this. Eat, do small talk and then leave. No problem.

‘Would you like to shower or have a bath?’

His voice vibrated along her nerve ends. Deep, gravelly and sexy as hell, he could make a fortune as a voice over. She imagined him modelling Speedos lounging on a boat in the middle of the ocean. Those dark sinful eyes curling the toes of every female who watched TV wishing she was there with him. Well, that’s how advertising agencies sold expensive cologne for men. They appealed to the women in their lives. And Becca knew Lucas would appeal to any female with a pulse.

She blinked as he raised a dark brow and she realised she hadn’t answered his question.

‘Thank you.’

He pointed her in the direction of another bedroom.

She wandered through and found an en-suite in black granite with a huge walk in shower.

Stripping down to her skin she wondered again where her panties had gone.

Becca piled her hair on top of her head, suddenly breathless as water shot from six different jets. The designer liquid soap smelt wonderful and she slathered it over her body, stifling a groan as the purely feminine part of her throbbed with desire and an aching need that scandalised her in its intensity.

What on earth was happening to her?

A gasp of shock escaped from her throat as large hands slid gently but possessively over her flat belly and small breasts. How did he know which parts of her were too tender this morning? His fingertips lingered with exquisite care on nipples so delicately sensitized to his touch they were hot-wired to that yearning pulse between her legs.

‘If you want me to stop,
querida
, I will,’ Lucas whispered into her ear.

The man, Becca decided with a low moan, had magical fingers.

She knew she should tell him to stop, but heat scorched over her too sensitive skin wherever he touched her. Her breath caught as his tongue licked her throat and his arousal, thick and hard, pressed into the small of her back.

Lust detonated between her legs as he turned her in his arms, pressed her back against black granite and captured her mouth with his even as her nipples grazed his chest. She parted her lips to allow his thrusting tongue access. God, he tasted fantastic. This time there was nothing gentle in the kiss. There was power, possession and a relentless hunger. That hunger called to her and she answered it with a desperation that verged on insanity.

Was she making those high, keening moans? Her ardour matched his, kiss for kiss, touch for touch.

When his fingers slipped between her legs, slid around that screaming little pearl of nerve ends, her legs gave way as the climax took her breath.

‘Put your legs around my waist,’ he muttered in her ear, his voice was deep the tone harsh as he caught her mouth with his and she did as he asked.

Then, thank God, he was inside her.

She clung to him, legs around his waist, and arms around his neck as he pumped his hips, thrusting into her, gasping desperate words in Spanish into her mouth. Together they soared higher and higher to a place she’d never known existed before last night. The muscles contracting her centre clutched him again and again. Then the world went black as her mind splintered into a thousand stars.

Their hearts hammering as one, Becca realised Lucas was bearing her weight as well as leaning a hand against the wall for support.

Their panting breaths mingled before he groaned into the soft spot under her ear. Pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder, she clung to him and blinked as the water, cool now, battered their skin.

Lucas flicked hair from his face and those dark eyes framed with wet lashes studied her carefully.

He grinned as a hot flush rose from her toes to flood her neck and cheeks.

‘Now
that
is how I want you to look at me,
querida
, not like a scared little rabbit.’ Although his voice was soft, the tone was of a man used to command.

His fingertip stroked a burning path down the curve of her breast to a bullet hard nipple.

Then reality gave her a hard slap.

Becca caught herself and blinked furiously to hide the emotions that flooded her throat and stung her eyes.

Blindly and on legs that were far from steady, she moved out of his arms, out of the shower. With a shudder she pulled on the complimentary thick white cotton bathrobe and wound a towel around her head.

Rolling up each sleeve she refused to look at him as he dried himself.

A quick glance told her his eyes had tightened and his intense gaze made the nerves clutching her stomach grow claws.

She turned away from him.

A firm hand on her arm pulled her back.

Those eyes were not so gentle on her now, but edged with suspicion.

‘I see we have a problem.’ Lucas gripped her other arm and gave her a non-too-gentle shake. ‘Are you in a relationship? or...’ Those dark eyes searching hers narrowed into slits. ‘Are you married?’

Becca went very still, needles of tension prickling up her spine.

His eyes went ice over steel and she trembled.

‘Answer me!’ His voice was a whip lashing across raw emotions.

In her head the last ten hours had assumed a surreal quality, almost like an out of body experience. He shook her again and the cold reality of her situation gave her another slap. This time yesterday she hadn’t set eyes on this man. The way she’d danced with him, kissed him, touched him, in the nightclub had shame burn a scorching path up her neck and into her cheeks.

The way she’d gone to his hotel without a second thought for her personal safety had common sense demand now what the hell had she been thinking.

She’d let a total stranger take liberties with her body. Do things to her; touch her in ways she’d never been touched before... even by... Guilt incinerated her cheeks.

Becca blinked up into a face she didn’t recognise now. He looked too big, too wide, too male. His eyes were cold, hard and absolutely appalled.

How could she have been so stupid to put herself at risk and behave in a way that was so alien to her nature? Humiliation warred with self-reproach and utter fury.

The toxic mix of emotions burned in her throat and Becca hung on to anger like a lifeline.

How dare he treat her like this?

She pushed him, dismayed when he didn’t budge.

Her legs might be trembling, but her chin came up.

‘Let me go,’ she whispered.

Time seemed to stand still before he thrust her away as if she’d burned him. Becca staggered as he turned and stalked out of the bathroom. She nearly jumped out of her skin as the bedroom door slammed like a gunshot.

Scrubbing hot tears from her cheeks Becca wondered what on earth she was going to do.

She towel dried her hair before dragging a comb through it so hard it brought fresh tears to her eyes. No crying. It changed nothing.

For two years she’d held it together. Managed to lock grief into that dark place in her psyche. She’d thrown herself into working ten or even twelve hour days.

But cracks had appeared in her facade when she least expected it. Her behaviour was becoming erratic she realised now. The pressure was getting to her, the stress of delivering to strict creative deadlines again and again like a hamster on a wheel going nowhere fast was taking its toll.

Last night had been her first night out since... The ache in her heart was a physical agony she simply couldn’t ignore. But she wouldn’t think about it. The main thing was to get out of here in one piece and she still had to get past a very angry Lucas.

How could she tell a stranger something she still battled to come to terms with herself? She knew it simply wasn’t logical to feel as if she’d betrayed Rick, but she couldn’t help feeling terribly guilty.

Not only had she had sex with another man, but it been outside any experience she’d had with her late husband. Rick had been a careful, gentle lover. He’d cherished and loved her. What she’d experienced last night had been nothing but lust, the sexual act at its most primitive, most basic.

What did that say about her as a woman?

Grief, still horribly fresh, roared through her system.

Closing her eyes tight, Becca fought for control as she steadied herself.

She desperately needed to find that dark place where she brooded in safe isolation.

The occasional shudder overtook her as she fumbled with the zip of her dress and thrust her feet into her shoes.

She wound the cream cashmere pashmina around her and picked up her bag chanting to herself to get out and away from this man.

With a deep inhale and exhale, she opened the door.

The scent of bacon and freshly ground coffee made her stomach heave.

Lucas was sitting at a desk writing on a sheet of hotel paper.

He wore soft blue jeans and a black sweater. His feet were bare.

The logical unemotional part of her brain, the part that got her through every endless day, noticed the way his black hair clung to his skull and that he had the most beautiful hands.

He turned and saw her.

Becca kept her eyes on his chin.

The atmosphere was so icy she shivered.

‘Rebecca, what?’ The words, quietly spoken, vibrated with suppressed fury.

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Your surname.’

‘Wainwright,’ she whispered.

‘That would be Mrs Rebecca Wainwright?’

She nodded. It was the simple truth.

‘Won’t he be wondering where you are?’

The burn of utter grief in her throat made speech impossible, so she merely gave a jerky shake of her head.

He folded the paper and placed it in an envelope. All the while those dark eyes stayed on her face.

‘You are a piece of work, Mrs Wainwright. I do not suppose I am the first to be taken in by those big eyes? Or do you have the usual sob story about how your husband does not understand you?’

Becca blinked and opened her mouth to tell him the truth then closed it. What had happened to her was none of this man’s business.

Common sense told her she’d done nothing wrong, but her heart told her she’d betrayed Rick by acting like a common whore. She’d let Lucas Del Garda touch her in ways, kiss her in ways that had broken every link in the chain of her self control. Rick would never have bent her over the arm of a sofa, thrusting into her, rutting like an animal, so hard that his balls slapped against her sweet spot. Self-disgust burned her cheeks as she admitted to herself she’d loved every single second of the experience.

What she’d wanted, needed, had been a physical connection, an intimacy with another human being. She’d been starving for it Becca realised now with the benefit of hindsight.

This man, who had swept her off her feet last night was physically overwhelming and an expert in seduction. He’d played her body like a violin, knowing precisely which strings to pluck to make her soar to his tune. And God, she’d soared to dizzying heights. Heights she’d never reached with the love of her life.

Her womb clutched again as she stood there just staring at Lucas and she wondered if she would ever be able to forgive herself for still having lingering erotic feelings of desire for a total stranger.

‘I’ve never done anything like this before.’

The effect of his dark nerve-shredding stare was devastating.

The hold on her emotions became shiveringly unstable.

Heat scorched her cheeks as his gaze ran over her body possessively.

She caught a glimpse of the thundering pulse in the hollow of his throat before he swallowed and took a deep breath.

His hand fisted on the table.

‘Can I call you?’ The words were spoken so softly she strained to hear him.

The room was so quiet she might have heard a silkworm breathe.

Feelings all over the place with everything that had happened in the last few hours, initially her mind refused to compute.

Good God, he believed she was married and was willing to have an affair? Disappointment with him warred with a righteous anger that she’d behaved like a wanton with a man who appeared to have no respect for women or the sanctity of marriage. Becca didn’t take much notice of the tabloids, but it appeared they’d been spot on with this guy and he’d had the gall to say that she was a piece of work?

What kind of man was he?

She shook her head as the mounting fury with herself turned outwards. Anger felt a hell of a lot better than guilt.

Her throat was dust dry. ‘I don’t think that would be a good idea.’

His eyes were cool now and remained on her face as he stood and moved towards her.

For a moment she thought he was going to argue, but he handed her the envelope.

‘If you ever change your mind.’

Heart thundering in her ears, she stared at the envelope before dropping it at his feet.

Opening the door Becca looked back and tipped up her chin, finding it hard to focus through swimming emotions.

‘Don’t hold your breath. I’m not married.’

She blinked rapidly to clear her vision and saw his eyes narrow before she continued, ‘He died. And he was worth ten of you.’

Shock held Lucas paralysed.

Christ, for a parting shot that one hit the bull’s-eye.

He’d gone from satiated lust to heartbreaking fury, to shamed surrender and stunned hope within the space of a few short minutes. No way would he permit her to walk out after that statement.