Desire Never Changes. Penny Jordan
Читать онлайн книгу.
into it, leaving the other girl outside. As she pressed the button for her floor she sank back against the metal wall, trying to compose herself. Her legs felt as weak as jelly, her breathing uneven. She had never in her life participated in the kind of row she had just had with Judith and it left a sour taste in her mouth. So Chase Lorimer photographed the women he made love to, did he? She shivered suddenly, stumbling out of the lift when it reached her floor. It isn’t too late to turn back, a tiny inner voice urged her, but to turn back meant admitting that every humiliating insult Judith and Andrew had thrown at her was true; that she didn’t have what it took to be a real woman, and she was determined to prove them wrong.
In her room she riffled through her suitcase until she found what she was looking for, a bikini she had bought in the south of France the previous summer when she was on holiday with Claire. Claire had persuaded her to buy it, and she had only worn it once, scandalised by the brevity of the pink and black striped cotton fabric. She tried it on in front of her mirror, refusing to flinch away from the sight of her barely clad body. The triangles of fabric that tied in bows over her hips revealed the slender length of her legs and far more of her than Scottish prudence thought wise, but how could she expect Chase Lorimer to take the bait unless it was presented to him temptingly? she asked herself with a sudden new cynicism. Judith wouldn’t have wavered for a moment and, in fact, would probably have dispensed with the top half of the bikini altogether. As Judith had told her Chase Lorimer was a man used to the company of beautiful women; he was also a man who was probably not used to a celibate existence, even for a short period of time, and he was alone at the hotel, now that the models had returned to London.
Carefully packing her beach bag with oil, towels, a paperback and other bits and pieces Somer firmly refused to listen to the tiny corner of her mind still pleading sanity, telling herself that there might never be an opportunity like this again. If she failed with Chase Lorimer…But she would not fail. He was a man who needed women and the look in his eyes yesterday had told her, despite everything that Judith and Andrew had said, that he had been interested enough to study her carefully.
Pulling on a pale pink cotton top and matching shorts, and throwing a casual button-through dress into her bag, Somer slipped on her mules, and headed for the door. A glance at her watch confirmed that she still had fifteen minutes to go before she was due to meet Chase. Just enough time to have a cup of coffee in the Continental coffee shop on the ground floor of the hotel.
Somer ordered a cup of coffee and some toast, trying to stem the growing protest of her nerves as the minutes ticked by. Eight o’clock came and went, and perspiration broke out on her skin. He wasn’t coming. He had changed his mind. She wanted to be sick, and kept imagining Judith’s gloating face. She had a good view of the foyer from where she was sitting, and she could see everyone who came in or left.
At ten past eight she conceded defeat. No doubt he had never meant to meet her, and had merely agreed out of politeness. Sick with humiliation and misery, Somer searched feverishly through her bag and withdrew her small make-up mirror, flicking it open to scrutinise her too-pale features and tell-tale bruised eyes. A surreptitious glance into the foyer assured her that at least Judith wasn’t there to witness her humiliation, although no doubt she would get to know about it and she and Andrew would laugh about it together. Too engrossed in the bitterness of her thoughts to hear the footsteps approaching. Somer tensed in shock as she felt the cool drift of lean fingers against her arm, whirling round, white-faced to confront the inscrutable features of Chase Lorimer.
‘So this is where you’re hiding. Have you forgotten about our date?’
He had changed into slim fitting off-white jeans, a black shirt open at the throat, the sleeves rolled back. A gold watch glinted through the dark hair on his arm, and Somer had the sudden panicky impression of a man who for all the trappings of modern-day sophistication was as much a pirate in his way as the inhabitants of this particular stretch of Jersey coastline had once been.
‘I…I hadn’t forgotten. I just didn’t see you in the foyer.’
‘I’ve just been out to put some petrol in the car, that’s why I’m a few minutes late. This yours?’ He picked up her bag, and stood waiting for her to join him, and Somer knew that now it was too late to listen to all those warning voices she had ignored so strenuously earlier on.
‘I hope you’ve brought plenty of suntan cream,’ he warned her. ‘I’ve been told that this particular cove is a sun-trap and quite remote. There’s no shop or cafe there.’
Did his warning hold another meaning? The suggestion that perhaps he regretted allowing her to come with him and that he would prefer to spend the day alone? As Somer knew from past experience, the path down to the beach was narrow and in places almost unsafe. She had gone there at Easter with Andrew, and although it had been a pleasant, warm day, she had come back feeling edgy and yes, disappointed. Because Andrew hadn’t made any attempt to make love to her, she acknowledged, filled with bitter resentment again. The cove was an almost idyllic place for lovers; secluded; sheltered, not overlooked by houses or roads.
‘Here we are.’ She came to an abrupt halt as Chase Lorimer stopped beside a gleaming black Porsche with the top folded back. ‘Are you going to wear your hat, or shall I put it in the boot?’
‘I…in the boot please,’ Somer mumbled handing it over to him and then snatching her fingers back as though they had been burned the moment they came into contact with his. It had been the briefest contact imaginable and yet she had shied away from it like a…like a terrified virgin, she castigated herself mentally. How on earth did she expect him to make love to her when she recoiled from even the slightest physical contact with him?
‘I’ve had the hotel pack us up some lunch. I take it you do plan to spend most of the day there? There’s no public transport there…’
And by inviting herself to join him as his guide, she had also invited herself to be his companion for the day, or as much of it as he chose to share with her, Somer acknowledged. ‘I’m in your hands completely,’ she responded daringly, holding her breath and looking away when she felt him move towards her, but he stretched past her, opening the passenger door, and she slid inside the car on shaky legs, wondering if there was ever going to come a time when she felt completely at ease in the company of men like Chase Lorimer, able to flirt and tease them in the way that seemed second nature to the Judiths and Claires of this world.
‘It all depends how long it takes me to take the photographs I need,’ Chase told her as he slid into his own seat and slipped on a pair of sunglasses. ‘I want to take some background shots to use in the studio, just in case any of the work I’ve already done doesn’t work out. Ready?’
Somer nodded, carefully giving him instructions as to their route as he turned out on to the road that led away from the hotel.
‘Left here, is it?’ he checked once they gained the main road. Somer nodded, her hand going up to secure her hair, already thoroughly tousled from their short drive. If she’d known he was driving an open-topped car she would have tied it back with a ribbon, but it was too late to do anything about it now, other than to try and keep it out of her eyes.
‘Leave it,’ Chase ordered softly when she made another bid to capture the errant strands. ‘With it loose and tousled like that you look the epitome of wanton innocence. Is it naturally that colour?’
‘Yes.’ Somer’s cheeks stung with bright colour.
‘No need to look so outraged, most models tint theirs, these days, and it isn’t often you see someone with true blue-black hair and such a pale skin. Coupled with your eyes, I’d say that was a Celtic heritage, Irish perhaps?’
‘Scots,’ she corrected him briefly. This man knew far too much about her sex, far, far too much, and she shivered slightly despite the growing heat of the sun. What had she committed herself to? Why had she allowed her fiendish MacDonald pride to hold sway the way she had? She had been warned on many occasions by her father to treat the MacDonald curse carefully, but she had ignored him, and now she was seated in this car with this stranger heading for a remote beach where she had planned that he would make love to her.
What