Dangerous Nights

mouth to protest, on fire with humiliation, then found herself hauled hard against the full length of his body, and crushed there mercilessly.

‘Maybe you need teaching a lesson, little Lolita,’ he murmured laconically against the loose, silky chignon of her hair. His breath was warm against her ear. ‘The lesson is don’t play games.’

‘Oh!’ The choked gasp was forced out of her as she registered the hardness of his body, lifted her arms to push him away without success. ‘Please, let go of me…’

‘Let go of you? When you’ve been busy giving me the come-on since we met this afternoon? Play fair, sweetheart. I’m only human…God, what the hell are you wearing under here?’ The taunting, amused growl of sensual discovery made her feel quite faint. Her raised arms had lifted the cropped hem of the lace top, baring a wedge of soft, warm midriff.

‘No, please…!’ At the touch of his fingers on her naked skin, her strangled shudder was utterly ambiguous. Eyes squeezed tight shut, she was drifting in a torment of self-doubt, outrage, and newly awakened need. She wanted this to stop, right now. And she wanted it to go on and on forever…

She was rigid with shame, but awash with sensation as his hard hands moved irresistibly upwards to caress the narrow expanse of her ribcage, not quite reaching the small, high jut of her breasts, then sweeping down again to mould her close against him.

Her choked moan was neither rejection nor invitation, nor was her convulsive writhe against the heat of his body. But with an abrupt oath he dropped his mouth to plunge his tongue arrogantly between her parted lips. He kissed her with a hungry power that made her head spin, and she found herself kissing him back, shudders of response rippling through her. More incriminating still, as she lifted her arms to cling to his shoulders, the short skirt rode higher. Jed’s abrupt sweep of her body terminated in long bare thigh, and the temptation to slide higher to the curves beneath the silk was clearly one he didn’t intend to resist…

When his stroking hands became bolder, arrogantly exploring the length of her spine to cup the petite swell of her buttocks in their skimpy triangle of cream lace, crushing her punishingly against the hardening bulge of his own body, fear and self-preservation came to her rescue. Blindly, she wrenched her mouth free, aimed a fiercely furious kick at his shins, and began to thump and pummel his chest with her fists.

‘Stop it, stop it…!’ she was half sobbing in the darkness.

‘You’re not playing this game any more?’ The tersely teasing words were bitten between clenched teeth.

She found herself released unceremoniously.

‘OK,’ he told her bluntly. His eyes were moving over her dishevelled, distressed state without compunction. ‘Tonight’s your lucky night, lady. You’re dealing with someone who abides by the rules. Usually. Treat that as a lesson in consequences.’

‘Consequences…?’ She could hardly speak.

‘Of your own actions. Save your flirting games for the boys in your drama class, Ana.’

He’d said he’d teach her a lesson—and he had, she reflected bitterly, the tears drying on her white face as he turned and walked away.

And even if he’d left it there, stayed right away from her from then on, it would still have been a lesson she’d never have forgotten…

How had he become so…embittered? Ana wondered now, huddled in the early morning chill of the kitchen, gazing through the spiral of steam from her mug of tea. The promise of another glorious September day was gilding the scene through the window, but she didn’t see it. All she could see was that ruthless glitter in Jed’s eyes as he’d demonstrated his superior strength, annihilated her self-esteem…

There was nothing soft about Jed Steele. Nothing warm. And by the time he’d finished amusing himself with her that fateful weekend every one of her fragile, youthful emotions seemed to have iced over to match…

The knock at the front door brought her back to the present with a jolt. Nine o’clock. Not an accepted time for callers on a Sunday morning…

Her shock at seeing Jed, calmly standing on the doorstep, was swiftly followed by horror at the state she was in. Pale and sleepy, hair wildly awry, the crimson dressing-gown bundled round her anyhow, she glared at him furiously. He looked impossibly attractive, in close-fitting Levis, white shirt and thick-ribbed navy jersey. A soft fawn suede jacket was slung over his shoulders. In daylight, the crisp, wind-ruffled brown hair had subtle gold-bronze lights in it. The cool green gaze and strong, tanned features were even more painfully familiar.

‘Not you again!’ she managed, raking an unsteady hand through her hair.

‘Can I come in?’

He didn’t wait for an answer. Overpoweringly blocking the hall, he eyed her up and down wryly.

‘I had some interesting dreams last night. How about you?’

‘Mine were nightmares,’ she supplied shortly. ‘What do you want, Jed?’

‘I came to find out what actresses do on Sundays.’

‘This one usually sleeps in late, then catches up on the jobs she hasn’t had time to do in the week.’

‘I hope I didn’t get you out of bed?’ He didn’t sound particularly repentant.

‘No. I was awake.’

‘Bacon, eggs and coffee would go down well.’

‘Jed, I really…’

He’d strolled into the kitchen, and was investigating the decidedly sketchy contents of the fridge and larder.

‘Go and get dressed, Ana,’ he ordered with a grin, shutting the fridge door with a slight shake of his head. ‘I’ll take you out for breakfast.’

‘I don’t want to go out for breakfast.’

‘Well, I do. And I didn’t forgo the full English version at my hotel to make do with half a bowl of cornflakes and a slice of mouldy toast. So move it.’

Her jaw dropped, but suddenly words failed her. Curiosity, strong, potent and dangerous, had begun to consume her. Whatever had brought Jed determinedly back into her life, he appeared to have some purpose. And she might have grown a protective shell these last four years, but the sight of Jed lounging nonchalantly in her small kitchen, professing a desire to eat breakfast with her, was more than her embattled defences could stand.

‘OK,’ she agreed flatly, swinging out of the door to hide her eyes from that probing, all-seeing gaze. ‘If having breakfast with you is what it takes to get rid of you, fine. Breakfast it is. Just breakfast…’

‘Just breakfast,’ Jed agreed easily. But something in the wry tone of his voice made the soft hairs all over her body prickle into red alert…

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_cd386a13-8365-5fce-8e9b-cee35f73ffe0)

THE short drive to Jed’s hotel was accomplished in chilly silence. He was staying in one of the most luxurious hotels in the town, a half-timbered Elizabethan affair set in its own grounds. The dining-room was elegant, overlooking the river. Pale green damask cloths adorned the tables, with china bowls of russet chrysanthemums.

While Jed calmly consumed bacon, sausage, egg, fried bread and grilled tomatoes, Ana tried valiantly to do the same. But she was too tense to eat. To avoid eye contact, she kept her eyes on the view through the small leaded-light windows. The tranquil River Avon flowed very close by. She could see sunlit willows across the river, stroking the water with their lacy branches. A swan glided by, its beady eyes scanning the banks for tourists bearing bread.

‘Eat your breakfast,’ he ordered, shooting her a bleak grin.

‘I did tell you I wasn’t hungry.’

‘So you did.’ Leaning back in his chair, he scanned her impassively. Wriggling slightly under that cool scrutiny, she gazed about the room. There were guests at several of the tables near by. An American couple, and Germans, French and Japanese, Ana deduced, from the rich blend of languages and accents. Part of the ever-present pageant of tourists, flocking to experience Shakespeare’s county, to absorb the atmosphere left by the centuries. Stratford’s lure for visitors from so many different countries and cultures never failed to give her a warm little glow of pleasure.

Until now. Right now, she could think of nothing except devising some casual, uninterested-sounding excuse to escape from Jed’s company…

‘You look tired, Ana,’ he murmured, pushing his knife and fork together and lifting a hand to summon the waiter. ‘I imagine acting is an exhausting profession?’ There was no expression in his voice.

‘It can be very tiring,’ she agreed equally tonelessly. The waiter poured more tea into her cup, topped up Jed’s black coffee, then disappeared obediently in search of more toast. ‘You don’t get much time off. But I love it…’

‘When did you last take a holiday?’

She shrugged slightly, irritation creeping in. ‘Heavens, I can’t remember. I’ve got a free ten-day slot coming up soon, I think. Another play’s preview week. But it’s possible to do the entire season without a holiday. It’s just the luck of the draw.’

‘Is that why you’re looking like the walking dead?’