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'I said, is that OK?' He drew the word out slowly as though he were talking to a child, and Katy saw red.
'Fine, Jake.' She smiled brilliantly into his dark eyes, and, reaching across him, carefully placed the plate down on the cabinet. She turned and deliberately trailed her greasy fingers straight down the front of his immaculate silver-grey jacket. 'Perfect.' She viewed the long dirty streaks with glee, and, turning limpid green eyes up to his, she reiterated, 'Just perfect.'
Katy chuckled. Jake's expression was comical. He looked down at his jacket, up at Katy, then back to the jacket again. Her chuckle turned to a full-blown laugh. Served him right...
'I don't believe you did that.' The puzzlement in his tone set Katy off laughing harder. 'This is a new Armani suit. You've ruined it.'
'Oh, you poor boy!' she managed to drawl between giggles. 'But then a mistress is a notoriously expensive item, and you have to keep her amused.' She collapsed back down on the bed; she felt guilty about spoiling his suit, but it had been worth it for the look on his face, and it had certainly got his attention.
'You little devil!' Jake roared; it was like a volcano erupting. 'Want a laugh? I'll show you. Laugh!' And, flinging himself across the bed, he trapped her beneath him. 'I seem to remember you are ticklish here, and here.' One hand curved round her side and the other stroked down and around her knee.
'No, no! I'm sorry, truly sorry!' she cried, then laughed.
They rolled around the bed in a hilarious game of catch and tickle. It was as though the years had r
olled back and they were young lovers again. Suddenly the laughter stopped and they stared at each other.
An hour later Jake once again sat down on the edge of the bed, a navy three-piece gracing his magnificent body. His dark eyes roamed lazily over the lovely woman lying there.
Huge seductive green eyes stared back at him. 'You're going to be very late, Jake.'
'And whose fault is that?' Dropping a hard kiss on the softly pouting lips, he stood up. 'Witch.'
Jake had dismissed all her arguments against going to Venice with him, and now, after a smooth flight in, to Katy's amazement, Jake's private plane, which he piloted himself, they were now seated in a motor launch, heading for his grandmother's home.
Katy was sitting on the edge of the seat, incapable of relaxing. It was dark, and the lights of the buildings danced in a multitude of colours on the water, but she was unable to appreciate the beauty of her surroundings. She was too tense, and Jake, lounging in negligent ease beside her, his long legs stuck out in front of him, was not helping at all.
She had dressed carefully for the journey, and she knew she was looking good; the winter white wool suit with the black trim was a Claude original. She had teamed it with a plain black silk blouse and matching black bag and shoes.
She had aimed for a smart conservative look, because she was dreading meeting his relatives. It could only be humiliating for her as her place in Jake's life became apparent to them. In fact she could not understand why Jake would introduce his mistress to his grandmother.
'Where is your grandmother's home, Jake? Are you sure she won't object to my presence? I-----'
'Stop worrying, Katy,' he cut in. 'We aren't going there tonight in any case. We are staying at the Cipriani,' and, putting an arm around her shoulder, he pulled her back in the seat.
Katy turned her puzzled gaze towards him. 'I understood it was an emergency. You were needed urgently.'
'So it is,' Jake drawled softly, and, tightening his hold on her shoulder, his lips caught and captured hers in a long, drugging kiss. He raised his head, his black eyes gleaming devilishly. 'But I have a much more urgent need of my own,' he murmured the words against her cheek. 'And in my grandmother's house it will be separate rooms and celibacy.' He kissed her again.
"Then why?' Why had he bothered bringing her? she pondered. It didn't make sense.
'Katy, stop with the questions. We have arrived.'
She looked around and saw the landing stage. She began to rise, but Jake pulled her back. 'No, there are people around,' she remonstrated, believing he was going to kiss her again. Instead he took her hand and slid a ring on the third finger of her left hand. She looked down: diamonds and emeralds glittered back at her; it looked very old and very valuable. 'Why do... ?' She never finished the question as he kept a tight hold on her hand and led her on to dry land.
'Jake, wait a minute! Why the ring? It looks very expensive. I don't want-----'
'Katy, shut up. It is for appearances' sake only. I am well known in Venice and I would not insult my grandmother by introducing her to my mistress. For the duration of our visit you will be my fiancee. As for the expense, it's a second-hand ring for a second-hand woman—very appropriate,' he said curtly.
In her modelling career Katy had stayed in some of the great hotels in the world, but the Cipriani must rank among the best, she thought wonderingly. Situated on Giudecca Island and set in beautiful gardens, it had everything.
Jake, with his hand at her elbow, kept up a running commentary on the delights of the place, a swimming pool and tennis court—the only ones in central Venice— a health studio and sauna, and situated only a brief boat ride from St Mark's Square.
The receptionist treated Jake as an honoured and obviously well-known guest. Katy felt a swift stab of—could it be jealousy? He must have entertained plenty of other women here, she thought balefully, to be so instantly recognised.
The suite the porter, showed them to was stunning. Katy, her curiosity aroused, wandered around as Jake dealt with the porter and their luggage. A sitting-room, a bedroom with an enormous bed centred on a raised dais, and a positively decadent bathroom. She had an impression of polished marble, rich fabrics and subtle colours blended to give an ambience of exclusive grandeur.
'Do you want to dine here or down in the restaurant?'
