CHAPTER FIFTEEN

      JACK’S WICKEDLY SEXY smile did things to Vivienne which were even more wicked. It constantly amazed Vivienne how quickly Jack could turn her on. A moment ago, her mind had been focused on what she would say and do at Daryl’s engagement party. A split second later, she could think of nothing but being with Jack, her body liquefying as various erotic images danced in her head.

      Time to go to the ladies’ room, she decided, making her excuses just as the waiter arrived with a plate of delicious looking herb-and-garlic bread.

      ‘Don’t be too long,’ Jack said as he reached for a slice. ‘Or this will all be gone.’

      She wasn’t long. Just long enough to cool her overheated body, and to change her mind about going to Courtney Ellison’s engagement party. It surprised Vivienne to find that she cared about Jack’s feelings more than her own need to confront Daryl. She hated Jack thinking that she was using him for revenge. Because she wasn’t.

      ‘You’ll be pleased to know,’ she said as she sat down again and reached for one of the two remaining slices of bread, ‘that I’ve decided not to go to that party after all.’

      Jack did not seem as pleased as she thought he’d be.

      ‘Oh? And why’s that?’

      ‘You obviously don’t want to take me. And I don’t want to risk spoiling what we have together.’

      His eyebrows lifted.

      ‘Look, Daryl’s dead and gone as far as I’m concerned,’ she went on firmly. ‘Let’s leave him that way.’

      Jack didn’t believe that for a moment. Darling Daryl wasn’t dead and gone in Vivienne’s mind. He was still there, influencing everything she did. His dumping her so cruelly for another woman was undoubtedly one of the reasons she’d jumped into his bed. Maybe not out of revenge, but there had to be an element of rebound in her actions. Okay, so there was lust, too—though Jack preferred to think of it as passion and need. Vivienne was obviously a highly sexed girl who enjoyed making love in all its forms. No doubt she’d always had a very active and imaginative sex life with Daryl.

      Damn it all, but he didn’t like thinking about her doing the things with that bastard that she’d done with him!

      Still, her being so darned sexy was one of the things he liked about her. That and her undeniable strength of character and courage. If she really wanted to go to that party then who was he to say no?

      ‘I appreciate your concerns, Vivienne,’ he said. ‘And I love it that you don’t want to risk spoiling our relationship.’ Such as it is, he thought ruefully. ‘But I’ve had a few moments to think about the situation from your point of view and I now believe it would be a good idea to go to that party. Otherwise, you’ll never have closure on the matter. You need to have the opportunity to tell your ex what you think of him. And prove to yourself that you’re not a coward,’ he added for good measure.

      He’d surprised her. No doubt about that.

      ‘Then you’re happy to take me?’

      ‘Absolutely. Ah, here’s our dinner.’

      Vivienne had actually forgotten what kind of spaghetti Jack had ordered, her mind having been elsewhere when they’d first arrived at the restaurant. Fortunately, she was not a fussy eater and she loved Italian food. The plate of spaghetti marinara placed before her was a huge serving, with a wide variety of seafood as well as the fish pieces: mussels; prawns; scallops; calamari.

      ‘Goodness!’ she exclaimed as she picked up her fork. ‘It’ll take me all night to eat this.’

      ‘I sincerely hope not.’

      Vivienne’s stomach did a little somersault. She knew exactly what he was referring to and the thought excited her unbearably. Dear heaven, she was turning into a sex addict. She had to do something, say something to get her mind off the subject.

      ‘Jack,’ she said abruptly.

      He swallowed a mussel with relish before looking up at her. ‘Yep?’ he said, and dabbed at his mouth with a serviette.

      Oh, God. Why did he have to do that? She stared at his somewhat hard mouth and thought of the pleasure it gave her. All of it: lips; teeth; tongue. But especially his tongue. She could feel it now, licking, stabbing, sliding inside her.

      The heat her thoughts evoked made her squeeze her thighs and buttocks tightly together. Dear heaven, she almost came then. Putting down her fork, she straightened her spine against the back of the chair, forcing herself to get a firm grip on her wayward flesh.

      ‘I was wondering if you’d heard anything more about Francesco’s Folly today?’ she asked, always having found work a welcome distraction when her emotions threatened to get out of hand. ‘Do you know when I might be able to move in there and start work?’

      ‘Good news there. Things should be finalised by the end of next week. You can move in as soon as you like after that.’

      ‘And my contract?’

      ‘I’ll draw one up for you before that. Which reminds me—I’ve contacted a builder I know who’s going to do the actual work. He’s reliable and has lots of contacts in the area. Knows all the local tradies and building suppliers. I’ve been wondering, since you’ll be living on site, if you’d take on the job as project manager as well as interior decorator? I’ll pay extra, of course,’ he added, and forked in another mouthful of seafood.

      ‘How much extra?’

      He smiled. ‘Lots.’

      ‘Okay,’ she said with a shrug which belied her crippling sexual tension. Talking about work hadn’t distracted her at all!

      ‘Good. Now, eat up. Nothing worse than cold pasta.’

      She did her best. But her appetite still lay elsewhere. She watched Jack tuck into his meal with relish whilst only picking at hers. She did eat the seafood, the pasta part remaining untouched. And she did drink the wine. Most of the bottle; Jack told her he never had more than one glass when driving. By the time Jack pushed his own empty plate aside, the alcohol had driven out any feelings of nerves, leaving her with nothing but the most dizzying need.

      ‘Not hungry?’ he said as he wiped his mouth again with his serviette.

      Vivienne swallowed the last mouthful of wine. ‘Not really,’ she said.

      ‘Do you want anything more to drink? A Cognac? Coffee?’

      ‘No, thanks.’

      He looked hard at her, then nodded.

      ‘Fine,’ he said, and waved the waiter over.

      Five minutes later they were out in the very cool night air, Vivienne shivering as Jack took her elbow and steered her towards the small car park behind the restaurant. His Porsche was parked over in a dimly lit corner, next to a red Mercedes.

      ‘You must be cold,’ he said, walking quickly.

      Vivienne wouldn’t have been as cold if she hadn’t felt so hot. She frowned when he steered her round to the driver’s side into the small gap between the car and a solid wooden fence.

      ‘This’ll have to do,’ he said gruffly, and pushed her back up against the car door. ‘I can’t wait till we get back to my place, Vivienne. You must know that. Drop that bag and kick off your shoes,’ he ordered her in a low, gravelly voice.

      She did so, then stood there,