Judgement By Fire (15 page)

With a sigh,
Lauren wearily got up and headed for the bathroom and the shower she had
promised herself. Usually the world looks better after a hot shower and some
sweet-smelling shampoo, she thought. At least, she hoped it would.

*
* *

A short time
later, Jon was surprised to see light coming from under the guest room door as
he made his way in darkness along the familiar corridor to his own suite. He
hesitated, knowing how late the hour was, but the desire to see Lauren and to
make sure she was all right drove him to tap softly at the door. Moments passed
before he heard the sound of her bare feet on the wooden floorboards on the
other side of the door, moments made tense by his memories of the terrible
damage inflicted on the studio and Warren Dillon’s analysis of the angry,
possibly deranged character behind that vicious act.

But the sight
of her, haloed by the soft light from the room behind her, cheeks scrubbed pink
and hair glowing like burnished red mahogany against the deep, rich green of
the terrycloth robe, took his breath away and emptied his mind of everything
but her presence, the sight, smell, the
nearness
of her. His breath
thickened as he became conscious that she wore nothing under the loosely belted
robe, and the deeper flush of her cheeks told him she’d read his look.

            He wanted to tell her
he was just checking that everything was all right, after seeing her light
still on. He wanted to tell her that he was just passing. He knew he should say
goodnight and go. Now. Yet an inner need deeper than anything he had ever felt
before, a longing that tore at his innermost core, propelled him towards her.
As he stepped forward, holding her with his eyes, she sighed softly and opened
her arms to him and he was lost.

            Lost in the softness
of her embrace, the sweet floral smell of her shampoo, the deeper womanly smell
of her, Jon stood with Lauren in his arms, rocking slightly as he reveled in
the peace and serenity that enveloped him. Then a nagging, insistent longing
snaked its way through his belly and with a groan, he bent his head and tasted
her lips in a touch as gentle and as worshipping as starlight on snowflakes.

            For Lauren, it was as
though the kiss awakened her to a dream of heaven, a paradise where she was
safely anchored in the harbor of Jon’s arms. Her hands fluttered of their own
accord around his neck, feeling the dampness of melting snowflakes on his coat,
sensing the strength in his broad masculine frame, and inhaling the perfume of
his clean, male scent. But when his lips touched hers, it was like being
brought from the sanctuary of one paradise and shown a glimpse of another,
turbulent, wilder and more impossibly beautiful one just ahead.

            With a soft moan, unable
to resist, she tangled her fingers in the thick hair at his nape as she pulled
his head down towards her. Opening her eyes, she gazed directly into his, and
the swirling desire there took her breath away. The fire that had been banked
in her stomach began to spread, its flames licking her most sensitive parts
until they cried out for a release that only he could bring.

            With a shuddering
breath, Lauren reached up to flick her tongue over Jon’s lips before pressing
her mouth full on his, opening her lips to offer him full rein to roam freely
in the welcoming warmth. The result was like touching a match to the fuse of
the time bomb that had been slowly, inexorably ticking away between them since
their eyes had first locked in that echoing village meeting hall an eternity
ago.

*
* *

            Jon pulled her more
tightly to him, as if he couldn’t seem to get close enough, as if he wanted to
absorb her into himself to assuage the raging longing that swept through him.
The closer he brought her, the hotter the fires burned and the more he longed to
be closer still. He cupped the back of her head, bringing her sweet mouth more
fully to his, and then slowly slid down the slender lines of her neck to rest
on the tantalizingly loose collar of her robe.

Following his
lead while burning with her own needs, Lauren unbelted the robe and brought his
hands inside to rest on the velvet of her skin.

            Her response blazed
through him in its honesty, in its evidence of her need and desire to be with
him as he wished to be with her, and his heart beat thunderously in his ears as
he slowly, lingeringly, slid his hands along her warm, smooth skin until they
cupped her breasts, his thumbs gently massaging the rosy nubs that peaked in
responsive desire.

            Lauren shivered with
sheer pleasure at his touch, and sagged against him for a moment, her head
resting in the hollow at the base of his neck. Yet her need was only satisfied
for a moment and, taking her arms from around him, she stepped back slightly began
with trembling fingers to pull down the already loosened tie and then to undo
the buttons of his shirt. Jon stiffened and held still against her as she
worked, so that Lauren’s blood thrilled through her pulses as she realized he
was captive in the same throes of need and desire that held her.

When she
finally pushed away the barrier of his shirt and smoothed the palms of her
hands against the hair-roughed skin of his chest, Jon shuddered back to life
and captured her mouth in a kiss that offered all a man could offer a woman,
everything he had to give.

            Crushed against him,
her mouth melded with his, her body separated only by the rough wool of his
pants from his solid masculinity, Lauren clung to Jon as if the world would end
if she loosened her grasp. Never before had she felt such a torrent of desire,
such an absolute need to touch, feel, and join with another human being. With
just a touch of his hands, a pressure of his lips, Jon Rush had aroused in her
more feeling, more need and desire, than she had ever believed she could experience.
Holding him to her, Lauren listened to his ragged breathing, felt his rampant
need, and knew that her reactions were shared.

            Then Jon captured her
roving hands against his naked chest, and stepped back to create a space
between them. His face flushed, his eyes dark with desire, he sighed deeply.
Rubbing the backs of her hands with his thumbs, Jon looked directly into her
eyes.

            “Lauren, believe me,
I promised myself this would not happen. I would not take advantage of your
presence here to…to…God, to make love to you as I’ve wanted to love you since
that first night, there under the stars, outside the meeting hall. Do you
remember?”

            Bereft of the warmth
of his body but heated by his look, Lauren nodded mutely. She remembered every
detail, every nuance of that starlit, frost-rimed night, just as she remembered
every detail of every moment she’d ever spent with this man. His very being was
engraved indelibly into hers, and she desperately wanted to explore everything
he had to offer, to give in return everything she had to give, and she knew
this was plain in her eyes as she held his gaze.

            Still he held back,
her artist’s long-fingered hands captive in his larger ones, the heat of his
body searing her naked skin as she arched towards him. Desire flushed his face,
but he spoke carefully, calmly.

“I want
anything that happens between us to happen because you want it. I don’t want
you to turn to me because you’re afraid or stressed or need comfort because of
everything else that has been going on in your life. Say the word and I’ll walk
away, back to my own bed. But I promise I’ll still be there for you, Lauren.
I’ll support you in any way you ask, protect you in any way I can. No
conditions. No demands. No pressure.”

“Just so long
as you know that sometime soon, Lauren Stephens, we’re going to make love. But
it has to be when you want me as much as I want you, and when you know what
you’re doing.”

            Lauren swallowed past
the tears of joy and trust that seemed to block her throat. Knowing the
strength of his need, aware her own display of abandoned desire, she was
touched to her core that he should be willing to deny his own desire and step
back to be sure that she was ready, that she wanted him as much, as honestly, as
he obviously wanted her. Her heart swelled with pride that he should think so
highly of her, and her answer was to reach up and kiss his beloved mouth.

“Oh, my heavens,
Jon, if you only knew. From the first time I saw you, your image has flickered
through my mind, the thought of your voice, your touch, has driven me insane.
Your business has made me furious, your attitudes have driven me to rage, but
all the while, I’ve wanted to fall into your arms and have you hold me. From
that very first night, you’ve haunted me. I’ve known we were coming to this—and
I want you now, without reservation.”

He stood
motionless, his eyes locked with hers, for a full half-minute. Then, with a
groan of pure joy, he pulled her to him and kissed her, his hands pushing the
terrycloth robe from her shoulders and sliding downwards to clasp her firm,
round buttocks and mould her body to his.

His mouth
still on hers, he swung her into his arms and carried her naked to the bed.
Laying her down, he abandoned her only long enough to take off his own clothes
then, naked and proud, he returned to the bed and to the warmth of her embrace.

*
* *

           
He prowled the
darkened room like a tiger, the dangerous energy radiating from him almost
visible like sparks of fire. Pacing backwards and forwards, backwards and
forwards, he tortured himself with images of nakedness and passion. It all came
down to this, all over again.  Jon Rush had stolen what was rightfully his,
just as Jon Rush’s father had cheated his to leave his son disinherited.

            So many had danced
sycophantically at Jon Rush’s beck and call, even when these same people
ignored him, shunned him, laughed at him behind his back. He’d set out to prove
them all wrong, to prove his power, to prove that it was he, not the other, who
had the abilities for greatness.

            And she was to
have been an essential part of it. Indeed, after only a few moments in her
presence, she became the reason for what he had already started.  Beautiful,
talented Lauren. Lauren, who he had thought could see through to his very
central being, his real self. He had been prepared to offer her everything, to
give her himself and all he was capable of, to lay the power he knew would be
his at her feet.

            Just as he had
laid his hopes at her feet—and she had trampled on them, dashed them into muddy
ruins in her headlong flight to throw herself at Jon Rush. Images of Rush’s
hands on her beautiful body, of Rush enjoying the silken loveliness that was to
have been his, caused the anger to boil almost out of control. The man rammed
his fist hard into the plaster wall so that the immediate physical pain might
dull the mental anguish that threatened to swamp him.

*
* *

            Lauren stretched
deliciously in the warmth of the soft sheets and satin covers. Keeping her eyes
closed, she reveled in the laziness of simply being, until the awareness of why
she felt so good came to her. Her body felt heavy with a muscular arm thrown
across her waist, the large hand resting tenderly between breasts that still
tingled from the loving attention they’d received. As she slowly stirred, the
arm tightened and pulled her towards the wall of masculine hardness that curved
around her, and Lauren opened her eyes to look into Jon’s smiling, smoky blue
gaze.

            “Well, well,” he
said, dipping his head to kiss her gently. “Look who’s back in the land of the
wakeful. You certainly seem to have slept well,” he teased, the hand on her
breast now joined by another, the two barely touching her flesh yet their
rhythmic massaging was hypnotizing her into a state of heady desire. She
wriggled backwards to press more fully against him, and was delighted by the
readiness she found against her soft flesh.

            “What, again
already?” she asked, smiling up at him.

            “Oh, love, the effect
you have on me, I think I could go forever,” Jon replied huskily.

            “Braggart,” she
laughed, but the laughter was shot through with desire and her own hands were
already reaching for him.

            “Oh, I think I can
prove it,” he muttered against the hollow of her neck as he gathered her into
his arms and set about doing just that as the early morning sun pressed its
brightness against the peach satin drapes.

            Lauren awoke again
much later, and this time she was alone in the love-rumpled bed. The sun
skimming off melting snow shone through the sparkling glass of the windows
where someone, presumably Jon, had drawn back the drapes to let in the day.

            A cooling cup of
coffee sat on the night table with a folded sheet of beige notepaper leaning
against it. On the paper was one word, her name, Lauren, in strong, bold
script. Opening the note, she read Jon’s apologies that he had had to go in to
Toronto to an early meeting, and the promise that his security chief, Warren
Dillon, would drop by about 11 am and escort Lauren back to her studio in West
River. He’d added that he would prefer that she stay as his guest for the
weekend, but would understand if she needed to go to her home.

            And at the very
bottom of the sheet, written in capitals and underlined were the words: NEVER
LIKE THIS WITH ANYONE, NEVER BEFORE. And he’d signed simply: Love, Jon.

            Lauren snuggled back
against the pillows, the note in her hands as she breathed in the lingering
aroma of their passion and smiled to herself.
Never like this with anyone,
never before
. She didn’t have much of a platform of experience, but she
knew enough to know that Jon was a skilled lover. Yet their lovemaking had been
seasoned with something more than experience or technique. The depth of emotion
that had arced between them had caused hidden fires to burn out of control, so
that touch, taste, and smell were all enveloping and the world beyond their
embraces had ceased to exist.