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He had regained his cool control with an insulting ease that infuriated her and underscored how little he actually thought of her. She swung her arm in a smooth arc, her hand connecting resoundingly with his tanned cheek. 'And to think I thought I'd misjudged you, that perhaps you weren't the lecherous liar I had you pegged for,' she spat disgustedly. 'My father was right about you.' She stopped suddenly, afraid of what she might reveal in her angry panic, and appalled at how quickly the anger had flared between them.
The silence that followed her outburst lengthened until the tension was almost tangible. Jacy raised her eyes to Leo's darkly flushed face, noting the imprint of her hand on his tanned skin, and then her eyes met his and she flinched beneath the indomitable anger in their black depths.
'I won't retaliate in kind, not this time.' He hauled her hard against him, his arm around her waist, and with his other hand forced her chin up so she had to face him. 'Because I think that, at last, we are getting to the truth,' he said softly but with a deadly intent. 'You're a sophisticated lady, a delightful companion, and yet all week I have sensed a certain antagonism just below the surface of your so charming exterior.'
Unfortunately for Jacy, she couldn't stop the guilty colour flooding her face; he was much closer to the truth than he realised. 'I don't know what you mean.' She tried to shrug but his arm tightened around her, his hand at her chin sliding to circle her neck, his thumb resting on the pulse that beat erratically in her throat.
'Oh, I think you do. You're twenty-eight, not eighteen any more.' His smile was chilling. 'There have been other men in your life, other lovers over the years, so why this pretence of outraged virtue? It doesn't become you, Jacy. You might try to fool yourself but you can't fool me. I can recognise a sexually aroused woman and I know you're burning with the same sexual frustration I feel.'
If only he knew, she thought helplessly, frightened of the way her body reacted to him. Her knees felt weak and her heart thudded. She lowered her lashes to block out the intense speculation in his dark gaze. He had spoiled her for any other man. Only Leo brought forth this aching response in her traitorous body.
'You mentioned your father,' he said so slowly that she could almost hear the cogs in his brilliant mind ticking over. 'And my womanising ways.'
Jacy flicked a glance up at him and was suddenly wary of the speculative gleam in his eyes.
He laughed softly, his fingers relaxing on her throat and stroking gently. 'Now I get it,' he drawled huskily, obviously having reached a satisfactory assessment of the situation in his own mind. 'You think I'm still carrying a grudge against your father. Is that it, sweetheart?' he asked encouragingly, his eyes defying her to look away from him. 'Well, forget it—I don't give a damn about the past and, anyway, the man is dead.' He bent his head and pressed his lips to the pulse beating madly at the base of her throat. 'Come on, Jacy, you know you want to. Take a gamble on me and I'll bet you will enjoy it.' His teeth bit lightly, teasingly on her neck. 'I won't hurt you. At least, not intentionally,' he added, his voice rich with sensual meaning.
Jacy was stunned into immobility. That he could come up with such a suggestion just about took the biscuit, and his mention of gambling rang oddly sinister in her ears. Leo couldn't possibly know about her bet, could he? She flushed furiously and jerked her head back, fighting down the fierce tide of pleasure that surged through her veins at his caress.
'You carrying a grudge against me?' she said scathingly. 'You've got to be joking. Shouldn't that be the other way around?' She was positively sizzling with anger and resentment. 'As I recall, you walked out on me after feeding me a pack of lies about being a poor fisherman. You—the high and mighty Kozakis—filling in a few weeks with a naive teenager while your lawyers were blackening some poor innocent ex-girlfriend's name back in America.'
It would have been funny if it weren't so tragic, Jacy thought as Leo stepped back, his arms falling by his sides and an expression of shocked amazement on his face. It had obviously never occurred to him that she might consider he was at fault. She was free, but she was also furious.
'Really, Leo, you have a hell of a selective memory. You called me worse than a whore, and you actually expect me to forgive and forget-' flinging out her arm, she snapped her fingers in his face '—just like that?'
Leo swung on his heel and crossed the room to stand in front of the elegant Georgian window, his back to Jacy. He savagely pulled a cord and the heavy cream velvet drapes slid back to reveal the flickering glow of the street lights of London.
Jacy saw his dark head shake slightly. His broad shoulders looked oddly taut. She knew that now was her chance to leave, walk out and never see Leo again; but for some reason her feet were reluctant to move. Her gaze wandered around the room, lingering on the huge, over-stuffed, soft cream hide sofa and its smaller matching counterpart, then moved on to the ornate marble fireplace, the functional antique walnut desk and occasional table, where coffee-cups and the glasses and bottle of wine that they'd shared half an hour earlier still stood, looking somehow intimate.
A crack jerked her attention back to the man who stood by the window. Leo, one hand balled into a fist, slapped the palm of his other hand. 'My God, I never realised...' He stopped, but Jacy knew that he hadn't been speaking to her. Suddenly he swung back around, his dark eyes clashing with hers.
For a second Jacy could have sworn she saw pain etched into his handsome features, but it vanished as his dark brows drew together in an angry scowl as he searched her pale face with unwavering scrutiny. Nervously she ran her damp palms down over her slender hips and, unable to hold his gaze, dropped her eyes to stare at the floor.
'Now I understand, Jacy. This past week has been your way of seeking revenge for what you obviously saw as my scornful treatment of you in the past,' he said icily.
'No, of course not,' she denied, but her denial didn't carry much conviction.
'How long did you think you could string me along with the promise of your body?' he asked silkily. 'A month?'
Her head shot up; why had he picked a month? 'No, I never thought... I...' She stopped, eyeing him warily as he walked towards her.
He placed his large hands on her shoulders. 'You never thought... Yes, I can believe that. In my experience, women rarely do.' She almost sighed with relief, but then was stunned as he continued, 'I never realised until tonight how I might have hurt you by my furious outburst years ago.' Like a sheep she allowed him to lead her to the sofa and pull her down beside him. One strong arm rested on her slender shoulders. She stiffened at the enforced intimacy, then relaxed as he said, 'We need to talk... You were very young, and perhaps I was a little hard on you. Maybe I treated you shabbily. But it was a difficult time for me.'
Maybe! There was no maybe about it... And he had been having a difficult time? What about her? Jacy wanted to ask. She couldn't see Leo ever finding life difficult: he strode through it with money and power and a blatant masculine chauvinism that prevented anything or anyone ever hurting him... She glanced sideways at him. 'You, in difficulties—I don't believe it's possible,' she said drily.
'I know. I didn't think it was possible either, but I can assure you it did happen.'
Her lips quirked in a grin at the arrogance of his statement. She might have guessed that Leo wasn't the sort to admit to a weakness like lesser mortals. At least not for long.
'I never explain my actions to anyone, but in your case I am willing to make an exception, and then hopefully we can get back to what we really want-each other.'
'Big of you,' she snorted inelegantly.
'Yes, it is rather,' Leo drawled mockingly, and Jacy felt like hitting him. But, guessing her intention, he settled his arm firmly around her shoulder while his free hand caught her hand in his. 'Listen ...' he said, and she did.
'I don't know how much you know about the trial I was involved in. But, for a start, the lady concerned was no innocent young girl.' His mouth twisted with cynical humour. 'I, on the other hand, was twenty-four, and in America for the first time—sent by my father to head up our business interests there. I met Lily in a nightclub; she was a singer and a good ten years older than me. We were lovers. But I only saw her on my infrequent trips to California, a month or two at most in any one year. Anyway, I had known her for almost two years when she told me she had been thrown out of her apartment, the building having been taken over by a development company, and I, feeling sorry for her, told her that she could stay in the Kozaki
s company apartment until she found something that suited her. My one mistake.' He shrugged his shoulders. 'I thought it would cost me nothing; in fact, it was a hell of a lot less expensive than the jewellery I used to give her. I wasn't quite as wealthy then. My father was still in charge,' he said with blunt practicality.
