The Pleasures of Winter (31 page)

In a roundabout way, this was the most personal conversation they had had about their relationship. Abbie had to ask the question that had been plaguing her. ‘So, how do you feel about sharing some Rocky Road? With me, I mean.’

Abbie held her breath, waiting for his reply.

‘I think I’d like that.’ Jack lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it in a gesture that was somehow more intimate than anything else they had done that day. His gaze was hot, almost predatory, and she shivered, wondering just how rocky the road would become in a relationship with him.

He flashed her a smile, the one that never failed to take her breath away. The waitress came to take their order and Jack ignored her ‘don’t I know you from somewhere’ stare. He ordered two Rocky Roads and they ate them in silence. Even though they were eating the same ice cream, Jack insisted on feeding her some of his. She didn’t understand why, but it tasted better off his spoon.

Afterwards, he draped his arm around her shoulders as they walked back to the bike. He gave her a tender kiss before putting her helmet on. When Jack was like this, she felt cherished, as if she were valuable and worthy of protection. His attentiveness was comforting and a little unnerving. She was still uncertain what she had done to earn it or how long it would last.

‘Hey, no more sad faces. I have a surprise for you.’

She couldn’t wait.

Abbie was reading the papers when Jack came into the lounge. He had a grin on his face and was up to something.

‘What are you up to? I don’t trust you when you look so happy. That angelic smile is misleading.’

His smile widened. ‘Angelic? Me?’ He swooped down and gave her a quick kiss. ‘You must be confused. I’m pure devil. But in this case, I have nothing evil planned. I thought you would like this.’ He handed over two tickets.

Abbie read them twice before she believed it.
Romeo and Juliet
. Jack was taking her to a play. She squealed and threw herself at him. ‘You’re taking me to the theatre? That’s fabulous.’

He tightened his arms around her. ‘I promised you a date, didn’t I? An evening at the theatre should count as a proper date.’

She gave him a severe look. ‘You have a lot to make up for, after that performance in the ice cream place. I didn’t know where to look.’

‘As if I could forget. You blush like an angel when you are embarrassed. Or aroused. Which reminds me … have you any marks from yesterday?’

Abbie’s face heated up. She had planned to check in the mirror, but when she woke up cuddled against him that morning, Jack had made such sweet love to her that it had
brought tears to her eyes. She didn’t understand how he could go from being the aggressive Dom who pushed her limits to such a tender lover, but she was addicted to him. Jack Winter had become her obsession. Not that she would ever tell him that.

‘No, I’m fine.’

‘Show me.’

Her eyes widened. ‘What?’

Now he was pure Dom. ‘Show me. I want to see for myself.’

Abbie gazed at him, disconcerted, but he wouldn’t yield. This wasn’t the playroom. This was late afternoon in a lounge that opened out on to his swimming pool; there were other people in the house – the housekeeper, a gardener, Jack’s assistant – anyone might pass by. But Jack’s gaze was a challenge as well as a command. ‘Oh, very well,’ she muttered ungraciously. She turned her back to him, flipped up her skirt and revealed a pair of skimpy blue panties.

He moved in close and, ignoring her squawk of protest, pulled them down and ran his hands over her ass. Against her will, her breathing speeded up and she trembled. She couldn’t control or hide her reaction to him.

‘You’re a bit pink, and here.’ He pressed a spot at the join between thigh and buttock; the sensation made her hiss. ‘You’re going to be tender. But I don’t think you’ll bruise.’

His finger slipped down between her lips and teased her, gliding along the delicate folds and flicking against her clit. She twitched and jumped. God, that man had fingers that should be registered as lethal weapons. She was
so exposed but she couldn’t move away from those hypnotic fingers. ‘Mmm, you’re wet for me,’ he murmured. She shifted, opening herself more fully to him, begging without words for him to increase the pressure. Until he finished by trailing his damp fingers between her cheeks. That made her jump and squeal in protest. He gave her a light smack on her bottom. ‘Go and get dressed. You can’t go to the theatre like that.’

She stared at him, incredulous. ‘You’re going to let me get dressed? Panties and all?’

He pretended to consider. ‘Yes, panties and all. Don’t want you to be embarrassed if a breeze blows your skirt up.’

‘I could wear trousers.’ Even now, she couldn’t resist teasing him. Bratting, he called it.

‘To Shakespeare? I’m shocked at the idea.’

An hour later, she was ready to go, dressed in her favourite silk wrap dress. It was two years old, but comfortable and flattering. She carried a light trench coat – even in LA it got cool in the evening.

‘You look gorgeous. I want to do all sorts of decadent things to you,’ Jack told her. ‘Now, pull your panties down and bend over. I have a gift for you.’

‘You’re kidding. You’re not really going to do more kinky stuff to me, are you?’ But she couldn’t hide the flicker of interest and anticipation.

‘Of course I am. You’d be disappointed if I didn’t.’ He held something up.

Abbie looked at it with curiosity. It looked like a small blue dildo, less than three inches long and quite thin. ‘This isn’t too bad.’ It didn’t look threatening.

‘It’s not.’ He eased her over the back of his overstuffed couch. It was the perfect height for this. She wondered if he had chosen it deliberately. With her head down, she couldn’t see what he was doing, but wasn’t surprised to feel her panties being tugged down to mid-thigh. She grinned. Jack had a fixation with her ass.

She was sure she would be going to the theatre with a warm backside. But no smacks landed. She twisted round to see what he was doing and saw Jack coating the little dildo with lube.

‘What are you –?’ Her eyes widened as comprehension hit. ‘Oh no, no, you are not doing that.’

His large hand held her in place.

‘Too late,’ he told her, and pushed it in. The cold of the lube hit her first, then the sensation of something alien sliding into her butt, where she hadn’t been expecting anything. She wriggled and squealed but was helpless to prevent him.

‘You bastard. You –’ She cursed until he put his finger over her lips and clicked his tongue.

‘Language.’ She glared at him, but let him pull up her panties and help her stand. That small movement made the little dildo shift and move. ‘How does that feel?’

‘Just the way you think it feels, you sadist.’

Jack raised one eyebrow at her. ‘You think this is sadistic? That sounds like a challenge.’

Abbie put up her hands. ‘No, no, I’m sure you are only a semi-sadist.’

He laughed. ‘Don’t worry, it’s not very big, you’ll get used to it.’

‘I doubt it.’ But she followed him out to his limo. As
she lowered herself, the little toy shifted inside her and she hissed. He laughed again.

She tried to ignore it as they travelled into LA. They chatted about her work, especially the story she was building on Tom Breslin, but the dildo jerked inside her when the limo braked or turned a sharp corner.

Abbie loved the Ahmanson with its water fountain, huge columns and modern architecture. It was a theatre that could swamp a small play, but this was
Romeo and Juliet
, played with a full cast. They took their place and the lights dimmed. Jack put his hand into his pocket. The little plug in her butt vibrated.

She jumped and squealed. It was the strangest sensation she had ever felt. ‘What the hell?’ she demanded in a whisper.

He held up a small remote control. ‘Didn’t I tell you that it was a vibrator?’

She gave him her filthiest look. ‘No, you neglected to mention that little fact.’

‘Oh well. I’ve just set it to go off at random intervals, but it’s quiet enough that no one else in the theatre will hear.’

Her mouth opened in shock. ‘Random intervals? During the play? Oh no, you can’t do this to me.’

He put his finger over her lips. ‘As long as you’re discreet, no one will know what you’re doing.’

She gave his finger a sneaky lick, and laughed when he groaned.

The orchestra warmed up, forcing her to stay silent, but she wasn’t going to forgive him for this. She was tense, waiting for it to go off again.

The play was a revelation. It was years since she had been at traditional theatre and she had forgotten the power of a live play. Romeo was a little older than ideal for the role, but the actor was so good it didn’t matter. By the time the tragedy unfolded, she was sniffing into a tissue, despite the intermittent buzzing of the vibrator. ‘That was amazing. I’ve never seen anything like that.’ She stood up. ‘Let’s go backstage and meet the actors.’

Jack rose more slowly. ‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea.’ There was something strange in his expression, a shadow that scared her. She tried to ignore it.

‘I’m a reporter. Right now, I’m working on the Lifestyle section, which means I have to cover this sort of thing. This show deserves a five-star review. And I have to interview Romeo. Come on.’

She headed for the backstage area. Jack followed silently. Her press pass got them through the stage door and as far as Romeo’s dressing room. The name ‘Kieran O’Dwyer’ was on the door.

She knocked and a voice said ‘Yes’. She opened the door and stuck her head in. The actor was wiping off his make-up. He grimaced, then looked up, smiled and waved her in. Jack followed her.

Kieran O’Dwyer was tall, blond and aristocratic, a picture of elegant male beauty. He managed to look stylish while leaning against a mirror with half his face covered in make-up remover.

He stood up and bowed over her hand, kissing it with old-fashioned grace. ‘My lady, to what do I owe this honour?’ She hadn’t noticed it on the stage, but he had an accent that sounded just like Jack’s.

The butt plug jerked, shocking her. She glared at Jack. What was he playing at? She turned back to the actor. ‘Mr O’Dwyer, I’m so pleased to meet you. I’m Abbie Marshall of the
New York Independent
. And this is –’

O’Dwyer took his attention away from her cleavage and looked up. ‘Mick. I might have known.’

Abbie looked from one to the other in confusion. Jack pressed the remote control again and she jerked and gasped. She was going to kill him.

Jack leaned back against the door. ‘Long time, no see, Kieran.’

The men knew each other. And didn’t much like each other: behind the fake smiles the animosity was palpable.

O’Dwyer smiled at Jack. ‘It’s great to see Hollywood agreeing with you, Mick. You’ve become quite the urbane man of the world. George Clooney will have to watch his back.’

That was the second time he had called Jack ‘Mick’. What was going on? ‘Mick?’ Abbie looked from one to the other. ‘Who –?’

Jack buzzed her again. She frowned but kept command of herself and turned to Kieran. ‘Why do you call him Mick? How do you know each other?’ She was in full reporter mode, and no annoying little vibrator was going to stop her.

O’Dwyer beamed at her. ‘Oh, Mick and I go way back. I knew him when he was plain old Michael Delaney. Long before – but, no, no point dragging up old times, eh Mick?’

Abbie had whipped out her notebook. ‘Tell me about meeting Mick, Mr O’Dwyer.’ She emphasized the name and ignored him buzzing her again.

Kieran made a dismissive motion with his hands. ‘Oh,
no big secret. Mick and I were in college at the same time. We were all so impressed with him, the boy from Fairview who got a Trinity scholarship. Everyone thought he was destined for great things, until fate took a hand. But, sure, didn’t he end up here, so all’s well that ends well, as the bard himself would say.’

He turned to Jack while Abbie scribbled notes. ‘I caught a bit of
Steel Jacket 3
on the plane here. Fair play to you – it’s certainly the kind of stuff that gets the punters in and keeps them entertained. Bread and circuses and so forth. Good work.

‘But tell me, do you never miss playing decent roles? You know, where it’s not all about how you look and you can really get into character.’

Jack spoke through gritted teeth. ‘I do get into character, all the time.’

‘Of course, you do. Of course. What am I saying?’ O’Dwyer sounded condescending, as if he was talking to a child. He turned to Abbie, handed her his card and told her, ‘Anything you want, anything at all, just call me. I’m entirely at your service.’

She was examining the cursive script on the gilt-edged card when Jack reached for her arm. ‘Come on, Abbie, time to go. You can interview him tomorrow.’ He added another quick buzz to reinforce his order.

She scowled at him, but closed her notebook and asked O’Dwyer if he would be available for an interview the next day. She was leaving when O’Dwyer spoke again. ‘By the way, Mick, I ran into Sarah recently. You’ll be glad to know she eventually recovered from the incident. Your father never got over it, though, did he?’

Jack shoved Abbie out the door, but turned back. ‘You fucking bastard, you had to do it, didn’t you?’

They were in front of the theatre waiting for Ben to return with the limo when Abbie finally managed to wrench her arm free from his grip. ‘Do you mind telling me what that was all about? Why was he calling you Mick? Who is this Sarah? And what was the incident he talked about?’

He set his jaw. ‘It’s none of your business.’

‘It is my business, I’m your –’ She stopped abruptly and looked away. She didn’t know what she was. She didn’t know what to call it, or what she could expect from him. ‘I need to know what he was talking about. I need to know about you.’

‘You don’t need to know about this.’ His voice was hard. ‘Abbie, leave it.’

‘No.’ She wouldn’t back down. ‘As soon as we get back to your house, we will discuss this.’ For the first time, she saw a crack in his façade; she could get an insight into the real Jack.

‘No, we won’t. I think it’s best if you stay in a hotel tonight.’