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PROLOGUE
THE DOOR TO Rex’s room stood open, and that was an invitation Carmen couldn’t resist. She and Rex had already come close to being lovers—Carmen knew it would happen soon. With that thought teasing her senses, she paused at the top of the crescent-shaped staircase of Burlington Manor and stared across at Rex’s room, exhilaration coiling inside her. The music from the party on the floor below faded away into oblivion as she anticipated swinging that door wide open and joining Rex in his private space.
As she strolled across the landing she wondered if he was dressed yet. The notion made her smile. She liked the idea of catching him prowling around his room half-naked, and she was pretty sure he’d gone to get changed for the party. Maybe he was waiting for her to arrive. Her pulse raced. She straightened her dress. Her new high heels made her feel sexy, and the compliments she’d just received from Rex’s university buddies did, too.
As she closed in on his bedroom door something caught her attention.
Pausing, she listened. The sound issued again. Carmen knew what it was. Her entire skin tingled with awareness. Unable to stem her curiosity she kept moving, slowly, until she glimpsed through the half-open doorway.
Her blood raced, her body going hot and cold all over. She wondered if she was imagining what she saw. But no, it really was happening. The noisy woman lay on her back on Rex’s bed, naked. It was Carmen’s best friend, Amanda. Between her open legs, Rex was stripped to the waist, his jeans hanging open and barely latched on his hips as he fucked her. Transfixed, Carmen watched the virile male figure arched over Amanda’s body. She knew she should walk away but she was mesmerized by the image and the way it made her feel—crazy with lust, desperate with jealousy.
His hands moved around Amanda’s hips, where he grasped her buttocks and lifted them easily off the bed, moving her so that she almost sat in his lap and his knees were beneath her bottom. Carmen ached to be handled that way, by a powerful man, a man rock hard with need. That should be me, Rex. I want you.
Amanda’s legs moved on either side of him, her toes pointing. Lace panties trailed from one ankle—as if the two of them had been unable to wait until they were fully undressed to get at each other.
Rex groaned and pulled out—far enough that Carmen saw the girth of his cock. Instinctively she covered her mouth with her hand in case she made a sound. The sight of him erect riveted her. Her core responded, and her clit grew tight as a drum, aching to be touched.
But Rex’s face was cast in shadow as he bent over Amanda. He stroked her peaked nipples, making her moan aloud. That sound.
Carmen’s eyes flashed shut. Between her thighs her body was instantly hot and damp, craving some of what she could see. Tormented emotions assailed her. She wanted Rex. Amanda knew she did.
Just at that moment Amanda’s body arched and her head rolled against the bedcover to face the door. Carmen moved to one side, concealing herself. Pressed against the wall outside his room, she listened to Rex’s approving murmurs as he made love to her best friend.
Her fingers stole underneath her skirt and between her thighs. Cupping her pussy, she listened and imagined it was her in there, under Rex.
“Oh, you’re good at this, Rex Carruthers,” Amanda blurted, “just as good as I knew you would be.”
Angry tears smarted at the back of Carmen’s eyes, even while her body ached for him. Her breasts, crushed as they were against the wall, needled with desire. Pulling her dress up, she shoved her hand inside her panties and rubbed her swollen clit.
In the room beyond she heard Rex speak brusquely, his words rasped in between panting breaths. Amanda urged him on gleefully. Carmen almost felt his thrusts, imagined their raw energy inside her, much as she had done so often alone in her bed whenever he was nearby. It was too intense. She pushed her hand deeper, her fingers sliding against the slick wetness of her sex, desperate for relief. The raucous sounds they made as they both reached their peak were the last straw.
Cursing him silently—cursing them both—Carmen rubbed frantically until she reached climax, then dropped her dress into place. She loved him. Now she only felt betrayed and hurt, pushed aside. As she walked away she swore she would never let Rex Carruthers make her feel that way ever again.
CHAPTER ONE
Nine years later
REX CARRUTHERS STARED down at his father’s coffin being lowered into the ground, and felt nothing. Beside him, the vicar of Saint Mary’s Church in Beldover parish spoke gently as he addressed the gathering. The crowd was deep and they stood on the hillside in the early-September midday sunlight to pay their last respects.
The vicar’s words faded in and out of Rex’s consciousness.
“An upstanding member of the community, much respected.”
Rex still felt nothing.
When the vicar gestured at him, Rex stepped forward, lifted a handful of earth and threw it onto the coffin. The irony struck him. He hadn’t seen his father in over eight years, and yet here he was leading the proceedings. Rex was his father’s only child. That meant that he was called upon, despite the fact they were estranged.
Rex’s mother had offered to be at his side, even though she hadn’t spoken to his father for much longer, not since their divorce was finalized. Rex declined her offer and he’d come alone, knowing that she would find it even more difficult an
d awkward than he did.
All around him were curious and concerned people, faces he remembered from his childhood and teenage years. Villagers, local farmers from the surrounding Oxfordshire countryside, staff from Burlington Manor and family friends. They seemed vague and dreamlike to Rex. It wasn’t until he looked across the grave and saw her—Carmen Shelby—that the experience became real and meaningful for him.
The lovely Carmen Shelby.
After a moment, she met his gaze, and he saw concern and curiosity in her eyes. Rex nodded at her. She returned the subtle communication, lifting her chin to indicate she’d noticed. Rex’s attention lingered on her.
Carmen, so unobtainable, so elegant and ethereal.
How beautiful she looked.
Rex calculated her age. He was about to hit thirty, so he estimated she was twenty-five, maybe twenty-six. All he knew about her these days was that she lived in London, where she managed her deceased mother’s business interests. She seemed to be standing alone. He glanced down at her hand and saw no wedding band. He supposed he would have heard. People did like to pass news on, and they still had mutual friends.
“I’m so glad you came, Mr. Rex.” The voice of Mrs. Amery, his father’s housekeeper, drew his attention. She shook his hand.
Her husband, Bill, stood beyond her. Rex nodded at him. “Bill. A few more gray hairs in the old beard, I see.”
It was something Bill used to say to Rex when he was a boy, a reference to how he measured time. Bill Amery nodded and smiled, then reached out and shook Rex by the hand. “Good to see you, sir, despite the circumstances. Will you be coming back to the manor afterward?”
“Bill,” his wife chastised.
“I’m not sure,” Rex answered.
They moved on, making way for the stream of well-wishers who had similar, curious questions. Rex managed to pass each one off with a casual, noncommittal remark or comment.
