One Reckless Night (8 page)

 
'Besides,' he added coolly, 'apart from a few cherished moments, your own attitude has been nothing to write home about. I'll swap my sexual harassment for your sheer bloody aggravation any old time, and call us quits.'

 
'Then I wonder you're so damned keen to keep me here,' Zanna flashed.

 
'I'm also an optimist,' Jake drawled. 'Maybe I'm hoping for a few more moments to cherish.'

 
She said tersely, 'Don't hold your breath.' Then she glanced at the plate of food he'd set beside the coffee beaker. 'And I really don't want anything to eat.'

 
That much was true anyway, she thought. Her stomach was churning. Every nerve-ending in her body felt as if it were stretched on wires.

 
 
'Try your coffee, at least.' Jake took the sofa on the opposite side of the hearth, stretching out his long legs. He'd discarded his jacket already, loosening his tie and casually undoing the top buttons of his shirt. Now he unfastened his cuffs, rolling back his shirt-sleeves to reveal muscular forearms with a faint dusting of dark hair.

 
His voice reached her, edged with amusement. 'I said, do you want some cream?'

 
She hadn't heard because she'd been too busy watching him instead, she thought with vexation.

 
Forcing composure, she shook her head. 'I'll take it black.'

 
It was the right decision, she realized after the first cautious sip. Jake's brew was scaldingly hot, strong and delicious.

 
She needed something to counter the effects of the alcohol-especially that lethal punch. She hardly drank at all under normal circumstances, and she simply wasn't used to it. That was the real-the only explanation for her pathetic and totally uncharacteristic behavior.

 
And if this doesn't bring me to my senses, she told herself wryly, savoring the dark, aromatic liquid, then maybe nothing will.

 
'Are you cold?' His abrupt question broke the silence between them, making Zanna realize that she had unconsciously stretched out a foot towards the fire.

 
'Not really.' She pulled a small face. 'Just making the most of real flames while I have the chance. Central heating is efficient but impersonal.'

 
'A great many things are,' he agreed dryly. He reached for his jacket, extracting a high-heeled shoe from each pocket. 'You'd better have these back now.' He crossed to her and dropped on one knee. 'I'll put them on for you.'

 
She fought the impulse to shrink back in her seat and won. 'I can manage.'

 
'No one could doubt it.' There was an edge to his voice as his hand closed on her ankle, gently but firmly. 'But this is my pleasure.'

 
Zanna sat mute and like a statue as he fitted first one shoe then the other onto her outraged feet.

 
'Thank you,' she said icily when he'd finished. 'If the garage business ever fails, you could always get a job as a shoe salesman.'

 
'Relying on you for a reference? I don't think so.' Jake sat back on his heels, contemplating his handiwork. 'I'll just stick to Plan A and marry a rich woman.'

 
The breath caught in Zanna's throat. 'An admirable ambition,' she said at last. 'Is there a village organization to cover that as well?'

 
'We have our fair share of lonely hearts.'

 
'Including the pretty redhead at the dance?' The question must have been there, lurking just below the surface, all the time, but she could have bitten out her tongue just the same.

 
'That'll be the day,' he returned cheerfully, without the barbed comment she'd been dreading. 'Sal's a party girl.'

 
She shrugged. 'Even party girls settle down eventually.'

 
'But not with me.'

 
'Not rich enough?'

 
'I'll check her bank balance and let you know.'

 
'Not very gallant.' She made her tone light, slightly waspish, trying to conceal the fact that he was still physically far too close for comfort. She was piercingly aware of the lean, graceful strength of his body, of the shadowing of body hair tantalisingly visible through the thin shirt, and that faint, evocative fragrance of cologne.

 
She hurried into speech again. 'I was sure I'd spotted the future Mrs Smith.'

 
'Wrong on several counts, Susie. Including the name. You're Smith, if you remember. I'm...' He paused.

 
'Yes?' she said. 'Exactly what are you?'

 
'Call me X-the unknown factor.' He glanced up at her, not smiling now, the dark gaze intent. 'So, tell me about him, Susie. Tell me about the man who's made you so uptight.'

 
There was a brief silence, then, 'There is no man,' she said jerkily.

 
Jake shook his head, holding her glance with his. 'I don't believe that. You're a beautiful, desirable girl, but you've fastened yourself into some kind of cage. And I want to know why.'

 
'You're being totally absurd again.' Zanna's voice rose angrily. 'You know nothing about me. And you haven't the slightest right to make these assumptions.'

 
'Maybe not, but that isn't going to stop me. Do you plan to spend the rest of your life with iron bars around you? And what are they for anyway? To keep you in or the rest of the world out?'

 
'I have a very good life,' she said raggedly. 'I'm free to go where I want and do what I wish. A freedom I intend to exercise now, incidentally.' She rose determinedly. 'I'd like that key, please. I'm going back to the Black Bull.'

 
Jake got lithely to his feet. He took the key from his pocket and stood for a moment, tossing it in his hand, his expression speculative.

 
'I'm waiting,' Zanna said icily.

 
'Which will do you no harm at all.' The dark eyes flashed at her. 'Or do they all jump to attention in the big wide world when you look and speak like that?'

 
'Until I came here I was treated with the respect I've earned,' she said stonily. Apart from this morning, came the unbidden thought, when Henry Walton looked at you as if you were dirt.

 
'But at what cost to yourself, Susie?'

 
It was the sudden gentleness in his voice which proved her undoing.

 
Her throat tightened uncontrollably. She said in a muffled voice, 'Oh-go to hell,' and burst into tears.

 
From some place of stark and desperate loneliness she felt his arms enclose her. Her hands reached for his shoulders, clutching them as if he were a rock in a stormy sea. Sobs were torn out of her from some aching depth she had not known existed. She was blinded and deafened by the force of her own emotions. Dimly she was aware of being lifted-held, rocked and soothed as if she were a child again.

 
 
Not the child she'd actually been, the bewildered thought came to her, but a child who was allowed to be hurt, to be vulnerable, to show pain like other children. A child who was allowed to fail, who had the right to be comforted.

 
A child who was a stranger. And Zanna wept for that strangeness.

 
Yet slowly, gradually, the tempest of tears began to ebb. Her body might still be shaken by long, quivering sobs, but control was returning. And full awareness.

 
She was on the sofa, held closely in Jake's arms, cradled across his thighs. Her wet face was pressed against the curve of his throat and his hand was stroking her hair.

 
'Oh, God.' Confused, she tried to sit up-to disentangle herself. 'I-I'm sorry...'

 
'Relax.' He made no attempt to release her, his hand gently urging her head back to its former resting place. 'You don't have to apologize.'

 
'But I don't understand.' There was a catch in her voice. 'I've never behaved like this before.'

 
'I guessed that already.' His tone was wry. 'You don't have to explain either. Or be afraid. You're safe.'

 
Safe? She thought. Safe? With a man who called himself X, the unknown factor? There was no safety here. Especially when the warmth of his body seemed to be invading every fiber of her being, tempting her to stay where she was, enticing her to turn her head and press her mouth to his skin. To feel the strong pulse in his throat beating against her lips, finding its echo in the surge of her own blood.

 
But that was sheer insanity, and she knew it. And prudence insisted that she distance herself from him without delay.

 
Only, detaching yourself and sitting up with dignity on a man's lap had its own inherent problems, she discovered. Especially when you were trembling so much inside you felt as if you might shatter into a million tiny pieces at any moment.

 
'Will you let me go, please?' She'd intended that to sound positive and self-possessed. Instead it had sounded more like a dying wish, she realized, vexed.

 
He said, slowly, 'Any form of intimacy really bothers you, doesn't it?'

 
'No, of course not.' She tried to laugh. 'I'm just- seriously embarrassed by all this. I don't know what can have come over me.'

 
'You came into contact with real life.' He shrugged, and the slight movement of his body against hers sent a disturbing tremor through her senses. 'And your protective shell wasn't as strong as you thought.'

 
'You really think you have me all worked out,' she said bitterly.

 
Jake shook his head. 'No, Susie. I suspect that would take a lifetime.'

 
'Well, my life is all worked out, thanks.' She drew a deep breath. 'And now I really do have to go.'

 
'We still,' he said, 'have to discuss my fee for the work on your car.'

 
¦v 'Yes, of course.' She tried swiftly to reckon how much cash there was in her wallet. Under normal circumstances she'd have paid by cheque or credit card, but they had her real name emblazoned on them. And she was determined not to reveal that. Nor must she forget that there'd be a bill from Trudy Sharman to settle too, she reminded herself with faint dismay. She rallied herself.

 
'How much do I owe you?' she asked, aiming for her old briskness.

 
'One kiss,' he said softly. 'And we'll consider the matter settled.'

 
"What?" she almost shrieked. Outrage provided the impetus she needed and she leapt to her feet, glaring at him. "That is a disgusting suggestion.'

 
Jake shrugged again. He looked totally relaxed, completely unabashed by her reaction.

 
'OK,' he said equably. 'Two hundred pounds.'

 
Zanna froze. 'That is a joke, I hope.'

 
'It was a fiddly, time-consuming job,' he said. 'Labour is costly, especially when it includes call-out fees, overtime-and a percentage for aggravation,' he added gently. 'Maybe you should have asked for an estimate before I began.'

 
'You can't possibly justify such an amount,' she protested angrily.

 
'I don't have to. It was an emergency job, according to you, and that's the price I'm charging for it. Unless, of course, you want to reconsider the alternative,' he added meditatively.

 
The silence between them was suddenly electric, crackling with tension.

 
'You must be mad,' she said finally, unevenly. 'Two hundred pounds-for a kiss?'

 
'Why not? It will be worth every penny to taste you, Susie-to touch that delectable mouth you keep so tightly buttoned and find out if, somewhere, there's honey beneath the acid.' He shook his head again. 'I don't think there's a man born who could resist such a challenge.'

 
His slow smile reached out and touched her, reawakening the inner trembling, the strange, enervating weakness which seemed to pervade her body when their eyes met.

 
'After all,' he added softly, 'what's a kiss between friends?'

 
What, indeed? It was ridiculous that her heart should be pounding like this. She'd been kissed before, for heaven's sake. But not often, and admittedly not well. Usually a brief, embarrassed brushing of the lips that signified thanks after dinner or a visit to the theatre or cinema. Thanks and generally goodbye.

 
This, if she permitted it, should be no different. A way of extricating herself. A final conclusion to a bewildering episode. The full-stop at the end of the sentence, that was all.

 
So why should she be so sure that if she allowed Jake to possess her mouth, even for an instant, life would never be the same again?