An Indecent Marriage (14 page)

“Maybe he knows you have reason to look that way.”

“Thanks a lot.”

Maddy glanced back at the table and said, “They’re serving dessert. We’d better sit down. This thing is going to wrap up soon.”

Jessica hardly considered that good news. She felt like the woman in
One Thousand and One Arabian Nights
, who kept telling stories to prolong her life. She wished the dinner could go on forever.

But it didn’t. All too soon the guests were saying their goodbyes, as Jean went off with her boyfriend to Claire’s house and Maddy left with her husband. Jack went to settle the bill, and she waited anxiously for the valet to retrieve his car from the lot. Jack arrived just as it was pulling up, and he handed her into it, then went around and took the keys from the boy. Jessica stared out the window as he drove through the dark streets toward his apartment complex on the river, her hands knotted in her lap.

“I had the valet drop your bag off at my place while we were at dinner,” Jack said, breaking the silence.

“Thank you,” Jessica said.

“You didn’t bring much.”

“No.”

“Most women can’t stay overnight someplace without a van to carry their clothes.”

“I have enough.”

“We can stop off and get anything else you need,” he said with impersonal courtesy.

“I’m fine.”

“Jesse, you’re talking to me like I’m your dentist,” Jack said tightly.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Don’t apologize,” he ground out, slamming his fist into the steering wheel.

Jessica jumped.

He looked over at her and saw her expression. “We’ll be there shortly,” he said more quietly.

As if that would comfort her. She nodded woodenly.

“Did you give your sister the phone number?” he asked.

She nodded again.

“Any problem with her staying with her friend?”

Jessica shook her head.

“You’ve decided to solve the problem by not talking at all?” he suggested dryly.

She didn’t answer.

Jack sighed heavily and twisted the wheel violently as he turned a corner. He pulled into his reserved parking place and they took the elevator to his fourth-floor apartment. Jessica had never seen it, and she looked around in silence as he turned on lights and locked the door behind them.

The whole apartment, consisting of a kitchen, living room and dining room, with two bedrooms at the back, was done in Swedish modern decor. The clean square lines of the pieces enhanced the effect of the glowing blond wood. The gray carpeting was complemented by gray, green and burgundy striped drapes, and a matching love seat and ottoman in the same fabric were placed next to the brick fireplace. The coffee and accent tables were glass-topped and sparkling, the television and stereo equipment placed in chrome cabinets. The dining room featured an oval hardwood table and six chairs, the seats upholstered in a gray-and-green hunting print. In the kitchen, to her left, the appliances and countertops were off-white, and the floor was covered with pale green tiles. Everything was glossy, immaculate, decidedly masculine, and it took Jessica a minute to realize what was wrong with the place. It didn’t look lived in; there were no photographs, no personal mementos, nothing to indicate that a human being made his home there. It resembled an exquisitely decorated, exorbitantly expensive hotel suite.

“The bedroom is beyond that door,” Jack indicated, pointing. “You can change in there.”

Jessica followed the direction of his hand and found herself in a room that was as unlike the others she had just seen as it could be. The furnishings were of the same light oak, and the king-size bed had a spread of the same harmonizing colors as the living room. But there the resemblance ended. The clutter was chaotic: floor-to-ceiling shelves crammed with books and stacks of folded shirts, still with the cleaner’s paper band intact, framed family pictures stuck at odd angles among the litter, and piles of towels and sheets, fresh and ready for use. It was as if he lived in this single room and didn’t let anything personal spill over into the rest of the apartment, because someone might come in and catch him off guard.

Jessica felt him behind her and turned to see him in the doorway. He groaned when he saw what she was doing, staring at the mess.

“I should have done something about this before you got here,” he muttered. “It looks like a Chinese laundry.”

“Not at all,” Jessica said, smiling. “It’s kind of charming, actually. The rest of the apartment doesn’t seem like you, at least the way I remember you, but this does.”

He looked at her for a moment and then said, “Your memories of me are misleading. I’ve changed greatly from the gullible boy you recall. You won’t find me such an easy target again.”

“You don’t have to remind me every five minutes,” she said quietly, turning away. “I have received that message.”

“Good. I wouldn’t want to begin this singularly blissful union with any misunderstanding between us.”

Jessica whirled to face him, her mouth open, but he was already gone, pulling the door of the bedroom closed behind him. She sank to the edge of the bed, wondering what the next few hours would bring. Then she heard the sound of rushing water outside the door, and realized he was taking a shower in the hall bathroom, leaving the master bath for her use. She was about to unpack her case when the doorbell rang, and aware that Jack couldn’t hear it, she went to answer the summons.

A waiter from Mario’s, still in uniform, stood in the corridor, holding a silver bucket containing a magnum of iced champagne.

“Mrs. Giotti ordered this for you, to be delivered here,” the young man said.

“Oh, I see. Well, thank you. Just put it on the table, please.” Maddy was trying, in her own way, to add a touch of normalcy to their unusual situation. But Jessica had an idea that her thoughtfulness would be in vain.

The waiter deposited the bucket on the dining room table and turned to go. Jessica looked around for her purse to get a tip for him, and he said, waving her away, “All taken care of, ma’am. Congratulations, and enjoy it. Good night.”

“Good night.” Jessica shut the door behind him and leaned against it, thinking. Then she hurried back to the bedroom and bathed quickly, donning a sheer gown and draping her robe carefully across the foot of the bed. That done, she climbed between the sheets and waited for Jack, every fiber of her being listening for his approach.

When he entered the bedroom she actually caught her breath. He was wearing nothing but a bath sheet draped around his waist, and his naked torso was beautiful. It tapered from broad shoulders that were lightly speckled with freckles, to a trim middle, his flat stomach ribbed and corded with muscle. Dark hair fanned outward from a thin line disappearing below the towel to a thatch between his nipples, and it appeared finer than that on his head. His upper arms were well developed, with heavy biceps, and the veins on his forearms were thick and pronounced with long years of physical activity. He had toweled and combed his hair, but it was still damp, slicked back from his forehead, darkened with water. His skin shone in the subdued lighting, and his amber eyes searched hers as he walked toward the bed, his lips parted, his cheeks flushed from the heat of the shower, and perhaps from something else.

Why, he’s nervous too, Jessica thought. Then her hands clenched on the top sheet, her heart pounding as he reached for the wall switch with one hand and dropped his towel with the other.

Chapter 7

When he lifted the covers to get in beside her, Jessica could feel the heat radiating from him, almost scorching her. He smelled clean and soapy from his shower, and even in the semidarkness she could see a fresh dusting of powder muting the fading summer tan on his throat. He loomed above her, supporting himself on one arm, big and formidable and thoroughly male. For just a second his expression was open, vulnerable, and she could see in him the boy he had once been. Then he blinked and it was gone. He became once more the adult Jack; professional athlete, business entrepreneur, the semi-stranger she had married.

Jessica stared up at him, as rigid as wood. When he slipped one arm under her to draw her to him she tried not to resist, but he felt her hesitation. He didn’t say anything but began to stroke her back lightly, using long soothing motions that relaxed her until she was clinging to him, her head on his shoulder. It was the first tenderness of any kind that he had shown her, but she knew it had a purpose. He was gentling her so that he could take his pleasure, much as a rider soothes a horse to coax it to carry him. His skin was as smooth as a flat, sea-washed stone, and every time he moved his arms she felt their muscular motion against her sides. Apprehension began to transmute into desire; this was Jack, after all, and she loved him. It was easy to forget their true circumstances as he held her so closely, so protectively, and she desperately wanted to forget them. When he set her easily on her back and began to kiss her with light, feathery touches, she was soon turning her head to seek his mouth with hers.

Jack knew what he was doing. He was an accomplished lover, and he used every ounce of his expertise to bind Jessica to him in the only way he could. There might not be love between them, but she would want him. He would make damn sure of that.

She was growing impatient, trying to kiss him more deeply than he would allow, and he finally held her still, his hands on her shoulders, and opened her lips with his tongue, exploring, tasting. Jessica sighed with satisfaction. Her fingers crept up the strong column of his throat and sank into the shining hair at his nape. He moved closer, his upper body pressing hers, and she slid her arms around his neck.

The gown Jessica wore had a snap at the apex of the deep V neckline, and Jack drew back to open it. The silken material separated almost to her navel. He slipped one hand inside the gap and cupped her breast, his sturdy brown fingers showing dark against her milky skin. She gasped as he found the nipple, teasing it, rasping it with his thumb. She turned her head away from him on the pillow, awash with the exquisite sensation.

Jack pulled her gown aside, bending his head to put his mouth where his hand had been. Jessica moaned, closing her eyes as he sucked lightly, then with increasing pressure, finally using his teeth as she writhed beneath him, pinned by his weight. Overcome, Jack dragged the gown from her shoulders and shoved it down to her waist. He laved one rigid peak with his tongue, then the other, rubbing his cheek over the surface of her flesh as if he could never get enough of its creamy texture. His hands encircled her waist, lifting her off the bed as she held his head against her. His hair was drying into finger-width strands, and Jessica pressed her lips to its sable softness, on fire at his touch.

Talk to me, Jack, she begged silently. Tell me that you remember the first time, the way I do. But he remained mute, letting his actions speak for him, conveying a deep, profound need he would never express in words. He cradled her in the curve of one arm and peeled the gown from her quickly as she hid against his chest, suddenly shy. He caressed her belly, her thighs, until her reserve left her and she shuddered with the sheer pleasure of his large, capable hands upon her body. When he slipped his hand between her legs, she sighed and shifted to accommodate him, pressing into his palm. He gave her what she wanted, and she opened her mouth luxuriously, dragging her lips across the surface of his breast. He gasped, letting her slide back to the bed. He rolled onto her, embracing her fully, and Jessica made a sound deep in her throat as she felt him, aroused and ready, his legs tensed and heavy as they imprisoned hers.

He began to kiss her again, but more wildly now, walking the narrow edge of control. Jessica’s response was thoughtless, elemental, as basic as breathing. She clutched him to her, running her hands down the spare column of his spine, slick with perspiration. He sank his fingers deep into her hair and crushed her mouth with his as she wrapped her legs around his hips in unmistakable invitation.

But he was not ready to take her yet, though every nerve in his body cried out for him to do so. He knew the allure of the wait, the powerful eroticism of delayed satisfaction. He wanted her needy, begging. She had left him, forgotten him once. She would not do so again. Jack lifted himself off her and she rose with him, reaching out to caress him intimately. He trapped her hands with his and uttered a single, guttural word. “No.”

Jessica stopped, startled, the rhythm of their lovemaking altered, broken.

“Don’t touch me,” he said huskily.

Jessica’s hands fell away. She knew why he was holding her at this distance; she might urge him into losing command of the situation, and he would never tolerate that.

He pushed her down flat, almost roughly, and slid his arms around her waist, pressing his flushed face to her abdomen. His skin seared her, and then he drew his tongue from the valley of her navel to the juncture of each thigh, avoiding contact where she most desired it. She thrust upward, whimpering, and he moved lower, slowly, his mouth moist and hot. She was so primed for his first caress that when it came she groaned aloud, arching off the bed. He teased her relentlessly until she was frantic, digging her nails into his shoulders and surging restlessly against him. When he knew that she was on the brink he moved back from her deliberately, and she threw her forearm across her eyes, her whole body quivering with thwarted anticipation.