One Hour to Midnight (13 page)

"Keep sponging him," the nurse whispered softly. "We have to get his temperature down. The antibiotics aren't working."

For hours Veronica sponged, talking softly to soothe Jordan's wild ramblings.

Leon turned him and changed wet towels for dry ones. He winced when Jordan cried out in pain. Nurses came and went, replenishing water and towels.

Several times during those hours Professor Carey and another doctor examined Jordan, their grave expressions doing little to ease her worry. At intervals a nurse administered antibiotics and replaced the life-giving intravenous drip.

Sometime after the soft grey of dawn crept into the corners, the doctor bent over Jordan, listening to his chest. He glanced from her to Leon, and smiled.

"Keep it up. I believe we're winning."

Veronica saw beads of perspiration break on Jordan's forehead.

For one terrified moment she thought they'd lost the battle but the beatific glow in the nurse's eyes reassured her.
 

Jordan's fever had broken and he was sleeping, harsh breaths eased into a gentler rhythm.

Tears beaded Veronica's lashes. Relief drained her strength. Leon pulled her back against him, resting her head in the crook of his shoulder.
 

"We've done it," he whispered, his breath ruffling her hair.
 

She drew a shaky breath. After the stress and worry of the past hours, her legs had all the strength of cooked noodles.

"You should both go home and rest. I've given Jordan a sedative to ensure he sleeps. Sleep is what he needs most." The doctor folded his stethoscope and gave them both a hard look. "And you both need to get some rest. You've a few rugged days ahead of you."
 

Veronica hesitated, too close to the unthinkable to be comfortable at leaving.

"You're exhausted." Leon gave her a steady look. "If you rest now you can return when he's awake."

Still reluctant, she let him coax her into the scrub room, too weary to protest.

Leon untied her overalls and slipped them off her shoulders. He held out her blouse and she put her arms into the sleeves, standing passive as he fastened the buttons.

"Can you manage your skirt?"

She nodded, pulled the denim around her, but fumbled with the buttons. Her fingers, so nimble and assured when sponging Jordan, were unresponsive. She exclaimed in frustration.

"Let me." Leon fastened the recalcitrant buttons.

She looked down at his dark head and the tanned nape of his neck, bare and vulnerable.

Tears of tiredness and fear were perilously near the surface. Too often in the past, Leon had seen her when she was weak and defenceless. Never again would she wear her vulnerability on her sleeve.

Leon bundled her into her jacket and slipped an arm round her shoulder, leading her from the hospital. Within minutes they were in the Bentley, heading back to Claremont.

Cassie had breakfast waiting for them.

The food was delectable but Veronica had no appetite.

"What's wrong?" Leon lifted her chin with a tanned finger.

For a few moments she met his eyes then with a violent movement, pushed back her chair, uncaring of the wicked scrape on the tile floor, and fled.
 

Before she reached the sanctuary of her room tears streamed down her cheeks. She flung herself face down on the pillows.

The edge of the bed shifted under Leon's weight.
 

"Go away," she cried, burying her face in the pillow. "Go away and leave me alone."

He ignored her protests, lifted her bodily off the bed and cradled her on his lap. She turned her face into his broad shoulder and wept.
 

When her tears stopped she lay limp and exhausted in his arms, too drained to move.

"Better?"

"I'm sorry," she mumbled sitting upright. She knew she could so easily be seduced by the comfort of his arms.

"Why apologise." He shrugged, hand firm on her shoulder. "Tears are a natural release after such an intense period of strain."

"Do you cry?" she asked acidly.

"You don't have the monopoly on hurt and heartbreak," he countered, his expression inscrutable. "I've cried my share of tears. I'd be more ashamed to admit to not caring enough to weep. But that's not the issue is it?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, wary.

Leon's hand glided from her shoulder, up her neck and around back of her head. With a deft movement he freed her hair from its restraint and then threaded his hand through the honey blonde tresses, the heat from his hand a burning brand.

"Why are you afraid to admit to the attraction between us, Veronica?" A smile touched the corner of his mouth.

"There's no attraction." She edged away, staring up at him. The storm of tears had weakened her defences.
 

His eyes narrowed, the hand on her neck tightened slightly, his thumb caressing the hectic pulsing vein in her neck.

"Isn't there?" The whimsical question made her heartbeat accelerate. "We're adults, and now we're both free to explore this compulsion."

"Compulsion?" She swallowed, his words hit at her composure with sure, sharp blows. How long had he known of her hopeless, unrequited love?

"What else do you call it? This intense awareness, this desire? I've felt it for years," he said quietly. "And I suspect you have too."

Leon has you in his sights to replace his darling Julia.
The thought was like a douche of icy water.

Veronica pulled away from him and crossed the room, leaning against the window frame. "Let's not do this."
 

Leon stood up, moved away from the bed and shrugged out of his jacket and laid it across the back of a chair. She sensed him at her back a few seconds before his arms threaded around her waist and he pulled her back against his chest, his shuddering intake of breath vibrated through her.

For a few moments she remained stiff and then with a soft sigh, she sank into his embrace, his hands splayed across her midriff.

A rational part of her mind suspected that what Leon wanted had little to do with sex. What he wanted was comfort, to escape the fear and the uncertainty that dogged his every minute. In the night Jordan had once again narrowly escaped the clutches of death.

Leon wanted to lose himself in her, to forget for a few brief moments, the tenuous hold his son had on life. He wanted, no needed to forget the fear, the sheer sense of helplessness a man with his wealth seldom had to face.
 

He bent his head and kissed the vulnerable length of her neck.

 
"Leon," she closed her eyes, panic replacing excitement. "Don't do this to me."

His smile softened into tenderness, his lips caressed the throbbing vein below her ear. "It's okay to feel."

 
The quiet words pierced the icy veil shielding her senses.

It's been so long since I've allowed myself to feel. Anything.

He undid the buttons of her blouse and slid it off one shoulder, his tanned hand dark against her paler skin. His lips nuzzled at her creamy flesh. A shudder of sensation slid through her as heat seared a pathway to her heart. His hands moved up her sides moulding her waist, her ribs, her breasts.
 

A ragged heartbeat later, his long, supple fingers moulded and shaped her breasts through the black lace of her bra.

 
"I've wanted to do this from the moment I saw you in that nightclub," he murmured against the column of her throat.

"You thought I was a tart."

"What a deliciously old-fashioned word." He kissed her throat, hot open mouthed kisses. "You've been around your schoolmarm friend too long."

It took a few moments for the words to penetrate the erotic haze he'd created. She stiffened in his arms and turned, searching his face. "Kathleen?"

He nodded the glint in his grey eyes disturbing.

"When did you talk to Kathleen?"

He grinned, the glint in his eyes more pronounced. "You mean, when did she talk to me?"

"Kathleen rang you?" Heat that had nothing to do with sex, and everything to do with embarrassment coursed through her entire body. Veronica covered her hot cheeks with her hands, recalling Tania's words.
She threatened to cut off his balls and shove them down his throat, and she meant it.
 

"She did." He grinned, his teeth a white slash in his tanned face. "I was shocked to think a lady possessed such creative thoughts."
 

A chuckle escaped her. "Shocked? You?"

"You wound me." His laid a hand on her cheek, his expression suddenly very serious. "I'm so glad to see the old Ricki's still in there."

Unable to maintain eye contact, Veronica suddenly developed an intense interest in the buttons on his shirt. The pressure of his hand forced her to look up but she closed her eyes unable to meet his steady gaze.

"Open your eyes," he commanded softly. She obeyed, helpless to resist. "You've done ten years penance, don't you think that's punishment enough for one juvenile fall from grace?"

Is that what I've been doing?

"You don't understand," she stammered, desperate to free herself from the thrall of her senses, not certain she should let this moment go further.

"Don't I?" A grim smile touched his mouth. "You allowed yourself to be seduced by the phoney promises of a married man and reaped such a bitter harvest. Now you won't allow any man close, afraid another mistake will inflict further crushing pain."

She paled. His devastating accuracy left her nowhere to hide. How did this man know the secrets of her heart better than she did herself?

"It's time, Veronica." He laid a tender kiss on her temple, "Time to throw off the constraints of the past, and live again."

Can I? Dare I?

He bent his head and caressed the tender flesh above the lace of her bra with hot, open mouth kisses. Sensation made her tremble and her knees went weak.

But the thrilling intensity had no sooner registered than he was kissing her, his hand working free the front clasp of her bra. He slipped if off her shoulders and tossed it onto the chair on top of his jacket.

"Your turn," he murmured against her mouth.

Veronica had never been bold and for a few moments her hands fluttered like helpless butterflies. Leon caught one and guided it to the front of his shirt.
 

"Undo the buttons. I need your hands on me," he murmured as he skimmed his lips down her neck.
 

Her fingers fumbled and then the buttons easily came undone and exposed the expanse of his chest. His hands left her and the shirt was gone, carelessly tossed aside. Veronica spread her hands across sleek, taut muscles. Heat radiated from him. Her fingernail scraped a small male nipple and he shuddered.

Leon caught her hand and guided it to his belt and her courage faltered.

This is sex, Veronica, hot monkey sex.
 

Leon's lips on hers drowned out the echo of Tania's mocking words, and then she was beyond thought as she lost herself in the passion they generated. They fumbled with each other's clothes while their lips clung and their hands caressed newly exposed skin.

He was all tension and heat, and the need to be in his arms became as essential as her next breath. When all the barriers were gone, he eased her away from the window. She couldn't tell if she was floating or falling but she was lying on the bed, her body stretched the full length of his, intimate and exposed, without even the barrier of clothes.

That inner demon sank its claws into her. She was playing with fire, and would surely end up so burned, she'd never recover.

They were so close he sensed her retreat and refused to allow it.

He lay beside her, gathered her soft curves against the hard, honed length of his, and tangling his fingers in her hair, tilted her head so he could devour her mouth.
   

His hunger changed to raw, aching need. His arms tightened around her, their bodies strained towards each other. Her nipples, abraded by the hair smattered across his chest, tightened into tiny, achy nubs. Leon's hands stroked the sensitive skin of her breasts, his long fingers gentling them into flowing life.
 

With a keening sigh, she gave herself up to the sensuous pleasure, succumbed to the wondrous sensations wreaked by his inventive mouth. She revelled in each caress, demanding fulfilment of every erotic fantasy she'd ever indulged.

As he explored her body without inhibition, she reciprocated, blossoming under his sensuous whispers, the gentle demand of his inventive fingers. Then, overcome with need, she tugged at his body with feverish impatience.

"Please..." she whispered, planting intense little kisses along the sharp angle of his shoulder, wanting, no demanding more than the caresses that were driving her wild. "Leon...please... hurry..."

He absorbed the kittenish sounds as he eased her onto her back, rolled on the condom he'd pulled from his wallet and put on the bedside table. He'd told her they had plenty of time. He lied. Her soft hands tugging at his shoulders, the taste of her, the sounds she made, had his control hanging by a thread.