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His muttered, ‘God, Tara,’ sent tiny, explosive waves of response shuddering through her, her body pliant in his arms as he dropped on to her bed, taking her with him.
‘Tara…’ His voice was hoarse, forcing apart her closing eyelids, making her focus on the darkly aroused face. ‘Undress me,’ he commanded huskily. ‘Before, you were too shy, too… unknowing, so nervous in my arms that I was terrified of hurting you, but now we meet as equals, capable of giving equal pleasure.’ His hand reached for the brief laciness of her bra, unclipping it to expose the creamy contours of her breast with their rosy aureole, his quick, sharp breath shivering across her already aroused flesh. When he bent his head to touch his lips to first one hardening nipple and then the other pleasure surged through her in a wave that was almost painful in its intensity; almost too much to endure as he repeated the caresses with growing urgency, his body hardening against her in unashamed arousal.
Lean fingers stroked softly over the gentle swell of her stomach and painful emotion shivered through her.
‘Tara, I want you… don’t make me wait too long,’ James muttered against her skin. ‘You’re a woman now, not a girl, and…’
‘And that means you can take what you want from me?’ Tara demanded bitterly as his words sank in. Anger and remorse filled her. What a fool she had been, to be so easily beguiled by the desires of her own flesh—no, not simply her flesh, she admitted with a sinking heart, but her mind and heart as well. Her reaction to James hadn’t changed at all, nor the reason for it. Brought face to face with that knowledge, she was forced to admit to herself why she had rebuffed all the men who had approached her; why she had refused to allow any other man into her life—she still loved James. Loved him and resented him for his callous desertion of her, and now he was back, making it plain that while he despised her, he wasn’t immune to her body. She would be a fool if she fell into that trap again.
He felt her body stiffen and raised himself on his elbows, staring into her eyes, desire giving way to biting contempt as he enunciated with icy cynicism, ‘So that’s the kind of game you like to play, is it? I think I preferred you as you were…’
He was up on his feet, his back to her as he tucked his shirt into his jeans, turning swiftly as she reached for her sweat-shirt, disdainful eyes raking the slender vulnerability of her body.
‘Why did you encourage me to follow you up here? So that you could turn me down? You needn’t have bothered,’ he told her insultingly. ‘Sooner or later I’d have remembered that taking you means taking something that’s been had by God knows how many others before me—and desirable though you are, I’ve discovered a certain fastidiousness that prevents me from fully enjoying your undoubted charms.’
His lips curled back from his teeth as he watched her, lying stricken like a wounded doe, unable to take in the enormity of his insults. He had reached the door before she recovered her voice, her bitter, ‘A very recent fastidiousness, I would venture to suggest—it certainly didn’t worry you when you married Sue’s mother…’ ‘Why, you…’
For a moment Tara thought he was actually going to strike her and cowered back, fear mirrored in her eyes, but with an almost superhuman effort he seemed to gather himself together to thrust out of the room, leaving her alone as she listened to his footsteps descending the stairs, and the harsh slam of the front door, followed within seconds by the soft purr of the Rolls.
CHAPTER EIGHT
SPRING had given way to summer; in his newly relaxed mood Chas had made no demur when Tara had asked him for time off to be with the twins during the holidays. Today he was in a particularly good mood, she reflected as she heard him whistling in the other studio and wondered now much his benign humour had to do with his growing relationship with Nina, the petite dark-haired model.
He had brought her round to see Tara only the previous weekend, grinning as foolishly as any teenager, and Tara had a strong suspicion that his bachelor days were numbered. At Nina’s insistence he had brought the twins a present each; a complicated building kit for Simon and a nurse’s outfit for Mandy. As always the twins had been cool towards Chas, although they had both taken Nina to their hearts.
‘Doing anything special tonight?’ Chas enquired as she went into the studio to tell him that she was on the point of leaving. When she shook her head he muttered something to the effect that he might call round later, although he didn’t say why.
Tara had planned to spend some of the summer holiday with her family, but when she reached home there was a letter waiting for her from her aunt telling her that their plans had had to be cancelled owing to the fact that her uncle had suffered a minor heart attack.
A brief phone call to her aunt assured Tara that her uncle’s condition was not too serious, but of course it was out of the question to visit him with two boisterous children, and her heart sank as she replaced
the receiver.
She was still feeling depressed when Chas arrived, grinning from ear to ear as she let him into the house.
‘What’s wrong?’ he demanded as she made him a cup of tea. ‘You look as though you’ve lost a tenner and found ten pence.’
Briefly Tara explained. ‘The children get bored cooped up here all through the long summer holiday, and Simon in particular enjoys staying in the country.’
‘Can’t you wangle another few days with that friend of yours?’ Chas suggested, eyeing her thoughtfully when she shook her head with vehemence. Tara felt sure that Sue would generously welcome a visit from them, but there was no way she wanted to stay with her friend again as long as there was the slightest chance that she might see James. Her face burned as she remembered their last confrontation. And to make matters worse the twins never tired of singing his praises.
‘Hmm, well, perhaps this has arrived just in the nick of time,’ Chas suggested, handing her a plain thick, white envelope with her name scrawled across the front.
Puzzled, Tara took it from him, putting down her mug of tea as she turned the envelope experimentally in her hands.
‘Come on, open it,’ Chas demanded impatiently. ‘It won’t bite!’
Slowly she did as he instructed. Inside the envelope was a piece of matching notepaper folded in half. A cheque fluttered out as she opened it and fell to the floor.
Totally bemused, Tara bent down and picked it up, her eyes widening as she saw the amount and her own name inscribed on it.
‘Before you say a word, it’s a bonus you’ve well and truly earned,’ Chas told her firmly. ‘Some of those shots you suggested for that last Vogue assignment were pure inspiration, and the commissions resulting from it ought to make me feel ashamed that that cheque isn’t twice the size it is.’
‘Chas…’ Words formed a tight lump in her throat and she spread her hands despairingly, knowing that tears weren’t far away.
‘Use it to give the kids and yourself a damn good holiday—you need it,’ Chas told her, adding wickedly, ‘Believe me, I’ll get more than my money’s worth back in the long run.’
It was silly to cry, but the cheque and Chas’s warmly friendly manner, both so very welcome after the traumas of the last few months, overwhelmed her.
