Red-Hot Lover

CHAPTER TWO

OUTSIDE the church, Jared beckoned the limousine. Harrison had been sitting on the bonnet in his grey uniform and peaked cap. He had a half-eaten sandwich in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other and a steel flask resting precariously on the bumper.

‘He’s having his break, poor man,’ murmured Clara as Harrison fumbled around trying to get ready to leave.

‘I don’t pay him to make me wait.’ Jared strode across the leafy Kensington road without waiting. ‘He must have seen us coming out of the church. He should have been ready to leave at a moment’s notice.’

Harrison was already behind the wheel by the time they reached the car. He knew his boss too well to even consider getting things wrong when Jared had a face like thunder. Normally even-tempered and goodnatured, Jared in a bad mood was not a man to tangle with. And if he had been in a bad mood this morning, before they left for the church, he was in a much worse mood now as he wrenched open the rear door.

Clara slid in first, and shifted breathlessly along the dove-grey seats as Jared got in beside her.

He slammed the door and bit out thickly, ‘The Ritz!’

‘Very good, sir.’ Harrison murmured, but did not turn his grey head to look at his master.

As they drove away down the little Kensington mews, Jared was already shouldering out of his grey jacket. It was a sure sign of severe muscular tension. He frequently did it after a gruelling board meeting, and his next step was always to loosen his tie, which he was now doing. Clara watched for the final step—unbuttoning the top three buttons of his shirt and all the buttons of his formal grey waistcoat. Finally, he leaned back against the seats, with his arms spread out on either side, and closed his eyes.

Clara watched him with concern. ‘Would you like me to massage your shoulders?’

‘Yes.’ It was a curt reply, and she made a face at him while his eyes were still closed because of it. ‘I saw that,’ he muttered, watching through slitted lids.

‘Well, you are in a horrid mood, darling!’ she said lightly.

‘That doesn’t give you licence to make faces at me behind my back.’

‘Oh, yes, it does!’ she teased, but she also knelt up on the seats to better get to his shoulder muscles. As soon as her fingers began to knead the lock-tight muscles, he gave a deep groan. ‘Oh, that’s lovely…’

‘Does it hurt?’

‘Sublimely,’ he said from deep in his throat. ‘I love it. Don’t stop.’

As she massaged and pummelled and pushed and kneaded, she thought about today’s wedding and tried to hone in on the secret ingredient that had made it so intolerable for him. He should not, after all, feel as though he’d just beaten his arch-enemies in a grim boardroom battle for power. Most people felt light and happy after attending a wedding, especially one as beautiful and simple as Susie’s. If nothing else, it renewed one’s faith in love.

And Jared did have a great deal of faith in love. Oh, he huffed the way most men do—particularly powerful men—and talked a blue streak about weddings being ‘romantic nonsense’ or ‘a trap’. But underneath the hard-headed macho façade, Jared hid a deep romanticism that he was afraid to let anyone but Clara know about. He had to keep it hidden. There were too many sharks in the world of big business and he could not risk letting his enemies see how vulnerable he could be. How could such a sensitive man grow to hate weddings so much that he reacted like a cornered animal to them?

‘It was worse for you today, wasn’t it?’ she said gently as his muscles began to unknot and relax beneath her loving fingers.

‘I hated every second of it.’

‘You always have a bad time at weddings. But there seemed to be something different about today that I—’

‘There was nothing different about today.’

‘Then why are you so tense?’

His eyes flashed open, watching her with a guarded expression. ‘I’m not tense!’

Her pale brows rose.

‘I said, I’m not tense!’ He flushed angrily and shrugged her off. ‘In fact, there’s nothing wrong with me that a large brandy wouldn’t cure!’ Leaning forwards, he clicked open the drinks cabinet.

Clara watched with a frown as he poured himself a measure of cognac. A disciplined man, constantly driven to achieve, Jared rarely drank. In fact, she had known periods of up to four or five months go by without Jared touching even wine. Yet he had so far drunk two glasses of champagne, was now starting on brandy, and it was still only mid-afternoon.

‘Are you sure you want that brandy?’ she asked softly.

‘Quite sure, thank you!’ He glared over the rim of the glass.

Clara met his angry gaze and said, ‘Give me a smile. You look so grim.’

‘Why shouldn’t I look grim?’ He sat back, drank some more brandy. ‘You know I hate weddings. You know they irritate me. And you know I get badtempered just sitting through them. But you deliberately dragged me along to this one. Even though I told you this morning that I knew it would ruin the day for us.’

‘Darling…’ She was amazed that he could continue to be so unreasonable. ‘This wasn’t just any wedding.’

‘You knew it would ruin the day if I came along.’

‘But the day was the wedding. There was nothing else to the day. Just this. The church, the wedding, the bride, the groom—’

‘Precisely.’

She drew a patient breath. It was pointless arguing with him when he was in one of these moods. And it was true—she had known he would have a difficult time. She just hadn’t been able to see a way round it for either of them.

‘Well,’ she said with a placatory smile, ‘the ceremony itself is over. You can relax and look forward to the reception.’

‘I don’t want to go.’

Clara’s jaw dropped. For a second she just stared at him in speechless disbelief. Had he really said that? It wasn’t feasible. Not today.

Jared’s angular cheekbones ran red as he saw the shock in her face. ‘Look—I’ve had enough. All right? I know I’m not going to enjoy the reception.’

‘But, Jared, I—’

‘No. I’ve had enough. Can’t you see that?’ He sighed, ran a hand over the back of his neck as though the mere thought of the reception was sending his muscles back into a state of rigid tension. ‘It’s not just the marriage bit that I object to. It’s the press attention and the way everyone keeps staring at me.’

Clara found her tongue. ‘But press attention and admiring stares have been a part of your life since you first hit adulthood! In fact, you’ve been famous for over half your life! How can you possibly expect me to believe you’ve suddenly turned camera-shy?’

‘Yes, well, I’m not in the mood for cameras today.’

‘Why not?’

‘What do you mean—“Why not?”’ He threw her a furious look. ‘I don’t have a reason! I just know that that’s how I feel. Today, for my own personal reasons, I hate the attention. I hate being stared at like an animal in a zoo. I hate being photographed. And, most of all, I hate being asked stupid questions by strangers.’ He drank some more brandy, his face tense. ‘I don’t want to continue any further. I want, in fact, to abandon ship. I suggest we bypass the Ritz, turn round at Eros and go straight home. I’ll tell Harrison to—’

‘No!’ The word shot from her like a bullet from a gun and she caught his arm as he moved to lean forward and speak to Harrison. ‘Jared, I’m not going to let Susie down like this! She’s my best friend. She’s the closest thing—’

‘I know, I know!’ he muttered angrily, and after a second gave a deep sigh as he slumped back in his seat. But he glared straight ahead and refused to look at her. ‘All right. All right. We’ll go to the reception, damn it all to hell!’

She moistened her lips. ‘You don’t seriously want us to go home. I know you’re only saying it because you’re upset. You care about Susie, and you’d never do anything to destroy her happiness. It’s just this day, somehow. Something unusual must have happened today that I don’t know about.’ She was thinking aloud, going over the clues without realising what she was saying. ‘Something to do with the wedding photograph. The Llewellyns—’

‘Shut up!’ he bit out thickly, and when she looked up in startled disbelief at him speaking to her like that, she saw the tide of dark red deepening on his cheekbones.

She also saw the look in his eyes.

The black pupils were fully dilated now. The vivid blue surrounding them was shifting, glittering, everchanging like a kaleidoscope. She had seen that look before. It meant he was trying to hide something. Suddenly her confused mind began to click certain things into place.

‘Have you met the Llewellyns before?’ she asked softly.

‘The groom’s family?’ he replied, like a politician, skilfully evading the question, and leaned forward, trying to pretend he hadn’t evaded it. ‘Their Welsh connection just reminded me that I was missing the rugby match, that’s all.’

He switched on the radio while Clara watched him with very thoughtful eyes. He had yet to answer yes or no.

‘And England have won!’ The commentator’s voice burst out excitedly over a roaring, cheering crowd. ‘5-4 to England, knocking Wales out of the running and wiping the floor with—’

‘Great.’ Jared punched it off again but was clearly glad to have an excuse to continue in this badtempered mood. ‘Now Wales have lost. That just about makes my day.’

‘Never mind, darling. It’s only a rugby match. There’ll be others. And besides—we can go and see them play in Wales.’

He tensed and his dark lashes flickered. Clara knew in that moment that all this had something to do with Wales, although she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why meeting a Welsh family should send him into such a strange and inexplicable mood.

‘Wales…?’ he said thickly, staring at her as though she’d just grown two heads.

‘Wouldn’t it be better to see them play on their own home ground? We could drive down to Wales for the weekend and have a deliciously private holiday together, as well as supporting the team.’

‘Sounds like just what I need,’ he drawled unsteadily, avoiding her eyes and breathing a little easier.

Clara could hardly allow them both to turn up at the wedding reception of her oldest friend without first attempting to defuse his intense and explosive feelings.

‘Yes, we could go to Wales, watch the rugby, see the sights—’

‘What sights?’

‘And even visit your mother.’

His mouth tightened. ‘Oh, yes…’

Clara frowned, studying him. Three times a year his mother, Lily Blackheath, made the train trip to London alone, staying in five-star luxury at the Dorchester.

A tall, slender and striking woman, Lily had kept her hair dyed jet-black and looked much younger than her fifty-seven years. But she never visited Clara and Jared at their Regent’s Park home. Jared didn’t want her there and Lily seemed to agree with that. They had a strange relationship, mother and son. Tied to each other by ropes of steel, yet so distant with each other it was as if they were bound by some dark secret. And when Clara tried to probe, they united against her. That was when they really did seem like mother and son. When they joined hands to ward off danger and keep their secret. Of course, Clara could not be sure that that was the case. She could only suspect.

‘Well,’ said Jared after he’d had a moment to think, ‘Lily wouldn’t really want us there. She’s got her own life. She’s a busy lady. She wouldn’t want us barging in on her uninvited.’

‘Have you ever asked her?’

‘Besides,’ he continued, as though she had not spoken, ‘I’m much too busy with work at the moment. I can’t take any time off. Don’t forget I’m going to Texas on Monday, then San Francisco. I’ll be away for at least a fortnight. And after that there’s the usual round of board meetings and London business, and then I’m off to Hong Kong, Tokyo…’

Clara suspected he was dodging the issue, but couldn’t prove it any more than she could have done when he avoided answering her question about the Llewellyns. It could be true that he was too busy. He was, after all, a very busy man, with an action-packed schedule. But he was the kind of man who moved mountains when he wanted something. If he wanted to go to Wales and visit old haunts, watch the rugby, see his mother—he would go. But, of course, Wales was a no-go area…

Jared flew to every country of the world except the country of his birth. And Clara’s career did sometimes permit her to go with him, to leave London for weeks at a time, travelling the world in stretch limousines and private jets with the man she loved. It was just as exciting as working in television, although Clara couldn’t help needing the security that only a career could bring. So she always made sure she kept on working. And her agent, Mitch, was very good at keeping Clara in work as often as possible.

Once or twice a job had come up for her while she was away with Jared, and Mitch had called her with the news, no matter where Jared had taken her—whether Mombasa or Dubai or Venezuela. She had flown straight back for the auditions and got them. But, no matter where Jared had taken her, he had never so much as suggested they set foot in Wales together. Not since the day she met him. Jared’s company had offices in almost every capital of the world. Even such far-flung places as Cuba, Taiwan and Latvia were on his annual visiting list. But never Wales. Never Rhossana Bay. Not even to visit his mother.

Now she saw the connection between Wales and Susie’s wedding for the first time.

Funny the things you miss, she thought, when your own feelings are so deeply involved, as mine are with Susie. I never gave it a second thought that she was marrying a Welshman. I just thought, What a coincidence that she should love a Welshman, too! And that was that.

But, after Jared’s complex and unfathomable reaction to the Welsh presence at the wedding, she knew she must find out what his real reasons were, or there was trouble ahead for both of them. If Jared continued to feel this way about the marriage, she could see arguments looming—most notably at the reception.

For that reason, she pushed on with her pursuit of the subject. It was the only sensible thing to do.

‘We ought to go to Wales anyway, even if it’s not until next year.’

He rapped long fingers on his thigh. ‘What’s the big deal about Wales all of a sudden?’

‘I still haven’t seen the place where you were born. Rhossana Bay, wasn’t it?’

‘Rhossana is a dead-end seaside town with absolutely nothing to recommend it.’

‘That’s not what my guidebook says.’

He turned slowly to stare at her. ‘You’ve got a guidebook? On Wales?’

‘I bought it as part of a set on the UK when I was trying for that job as a presenter. I had to have a wide knowledge of the country because it was a travel programme on—’

‘You didn’t need a wide knowledge of Rhossana Bay!’ He gave her an arrogant look. ‘I could have told you all you needed to know. For instance—it would only take you half an hour to walk from one end of town to the other! It’s not exactly the big metropolis.’

‘Yes, but as I had the book I took a quick look to—’

‘Don’t give me that! The truth is, you’ve been checking up on me out of sheer female nosiness.’

‘I admit I was curious, but—’

‘Nosy,’ he accused, glaring at her. ‘Like all women, you assume that there’s something wrong with me. That I need fixing and that you’re the girl to do it. Well, let me tell you, Little Miss Fix-It, there’s nothing wrong with me that another stiff brandy wouldn’t cure!’

Clara released his hand as he leant forward to angrily open the cabinet again.

‘No. This isn’t what I need.’ Slamming the cabinet shut, he turned round and reached for Clara, eyes burning with a rush of angry desire. ‘This is what I need most.’

He pulled her into his arms and she gasped in surprise. His mouth closed over hers. She felt the warmth of his skin through his shirt. It was a delicious way to be silenced.

As Jared pressed the electric button which operated the dark screen window between chauffeur and passengers, she realised what he was planning. She gave herself up to it, eyes closed and head tilted back, the kiss stirring pulses in her body. He was stirred too.

His hands moved passionately over her. Her hat fell softly backwards, tipped onto the seat.

Clara moaned, pulses quickening rapidly. He was so gorgeous when he was in a temper. Try as she did to soothe him, she really did find him irresistible when he grabbed her like this for a quick, fierce kiss. He pulled her closer. He deepened the kiss and his breathing quickened. Clara’s heart was pounding madly. Everything grew dark and sensual. Images flashed through her mind of the four-poster bed at home…

‘Oh, Jared…’ she whispered thickly.

‘Just turning your body on and your brain off, baby!’ he muttered passionately against her mouth, and his hand moved up to close over her breast, making her moan as he kissed her deeper, his long fingers stroking her erect nipple through her clothes. ‘Like that?’

‘Yes… I’m on fire…’

‘So am I.’ His voice was hoarse and his face darkly flushed with excitement. ‘In fact, I want to make love to you—right here and now…’

Moaning, she kissed him sensually. ‘Oh, yes, please…’

He gave a rough groan and plundered her mouth. The car was slowing down now, inching through traffic while Jared obliterated Clara with the sheer power of his kiss. His hand was on her thigh, stroking the pale flesh above the lace top of her stocking.

‘I want you so much,’ he ground out as his hand slid slowly higher up her stockinged thigh. ‘Let me take you home. Let me make love to you.’

‘We can’t,’ she murmured through passion-bruised lips. ‘We must attend the reception. But I’ll make it up to you when we get home, I promise.’

‘I’d much rather you made it up to me now.’

‘So would I.’ She lay back, dazed and flushed and over-excited, her hands in his thick dark hair. ‘But we can’t…’

‘Yes, we can. You can come home with me now and not attend this blasted reception.’

The car stopped outside the Ritz. Jared was watching her intently. His face was dark with sexual excitement, yet the black pupils of his eyes were surrounded by a glittering kaleidoscope of blue which told her he was trying to hide something, trying to get his own way and trying to cope with an emotional chaos she could only guess at.

He was determined to avoid the reception.

Clara tried to get her breath back. He’d always known how difficult she found it to resist him. That was why he’d pulled this stunt just before they reached the hotel. He knew it would put the greatest pressure on her to do as he asked.

‘Jared, we’re sitting on the top table with the bride and groom. We’re here as Susie’s only family. We have to attend. There simply isn’t any choice. Not for me, at any rate.’

His fists clenched. ‘Clara…I want to go home.’

She tried to sit up, breathless. ‘Look—Harrison’s getting out to open the door.’

‘He can just damned well get back in.’

‘No, he can’t.’

‘I want to leave.’

‘Jared, Susie is my—’

‘I am not attending—’

Harrison opened the door.

Dishevelled and loveswept, Clara hesitated. But only for a moment. Jared was on the brink of ordering Harrison to drive them straight home and she couldn’t let him do it. Not at this wedding. Susie wouldn’t just be disappointed. She’d be heartbroken. And in that moment of hesitation all Clara could think of was the little red-haired girl in the playground of St Winifred’s, who had hurled herself fiercely at the boy who’d just broken Clara’s doll. Susie had leapt to Clara’s defence on the day they met. The very least Clara could do now was return the favour—twentyone years later.

Fumbling for her hat and bag, she stepped out onto the hot pavement while Jared watched her with brooding temper. She avoided his gaze. He could glare at her all he liked. She wasn’t getting back into the car.

‘Clara.’ Jared’s voice was almost drowned out by the sound of traffic. ‘Get back in the car.’

She pretended not to have heard him, and stepped back to let the traffic drown his voice to nothing. Staring resolutely at the curly green writing on the Lebanese restaurant across the road, she continued to avoid his eyes. He was trying to will her back into the car.

Eventually, he got out. Women walking past stared at him with admiring recognition. He stood smouldering with bad temper as he shrugged his grey jacket back on.