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Bess frowned. There was something in his tone she couldn’t identify. Something that sounded like strong emotion. Yet for Jack their relationship wasn’t about emotion. Pragmatism yes, convenience and even sex, but not emotion.
Her head whirled as she struggled to absorb what he’d said. He’d missed her, he’d actually admitted it. He’d sent people searching for her.
Excitement bubbled but she forced it down. It wasn’t her, Bess, he missed. It was his well-groomed, well-connected partner, adept at softening business with hospitality and charm.
She stood taller though he still towered over her. ‘Actually, Jack, I’m very tired. Let’s not do this now. We can meet for breakfast.’
When it would be broad daylight and she wouldn’t be so hyperaware of his physicality. Of how very much she wanted to lean against his hard, enticing frame.
For she’d missed him too. So much. And now he was so close it threatened to overwhelm her.
She couldn’t handle this, couldn’t trust herself. Despite knowing he could never be the man she wanted, he was the man her body craved.
Fear propelled her. Without waiting for his response, she straightened, pushing away from the tree behind her. But she miscalculated for instead of obligingly stepping backwards, Jack stayed where he was.
Her momentum made her breasts graze his torso and as she stepped forward her leg slid between his.
Bess froze, stunned. The reality of his iron-hard chest and thighs, burning with that familiar male heat, tore free something she’d tried to keep bound tight inside. She gasped, shocked at the too-familiar sensations rocketing through her, undermining every good intention.
‘I have a better idea.’ He inclined his head, his voice dropping to a note that turned her willpower to water. ‘We sort this out now.’
‘This? The divorce?’
Jack shook his head. ‘No, my darling wife.This.’ He wrapped one arm around her back, his other hand supporting her head as he leaned in and kissed her.
CHAPTER THREE
LATERBESSBLAMEDthe worddarlingfor the way she froze.
Jack had never called her that before. He’d called her sexy or very occasionally sweet Elisabeth, but endearments weren’t his thing. Even one like this, meant as provocation, undid her. For instead of sneering, his voice had sounded rough with something beyond anger, something that plucked at the taut threads of her control.
Before she had time to ponder what that was, or move out of reach, it was too late—he was holding her, his head swooping down to hers.
More to the point, she didn’twantto move. What she wanted, with a yearning that belied all her stern self-talk, was to be right where she was.
His powerful arm wrapped around the bare flesh of her back and it felt like heaven as he pulled her to him. Heaven and hell together, for despite her excitement she knew she’d regret this when sanity returned.
Yet knowing and acting sensibly were two separate things.
His other hand gripped her skull and tilted it back as his mouth found hers.
There was no hesitation, no bumping of noses, no instant of shock and denial. Instead it felt like the inevitable culmination of every taut, breathless moment she’d endured since he’d prowled across the terrace to where she sat at the pool.
As if she’d been waiting for just this!
His kiss, his embrace felt right.
So right it would have terrified Bess if she’d been thinking straight. Instead she acted on primal, urgent instinct. The fingers of one hand splayed across his chest, picking up the quick, hard thrum of his heart. Her other hand slid around his neck, tunnelling through springy, thick hair to tug him closer.
That hard mouth softened. This wasn’t a punishing kiss. It didn’t feel like retribution or anger, but something she’d missed and yearned for since Paris.
Tenderness. Companionship. Mutual pleasure.
A shudder racked her body and for a moment she even thought it originated in Jack’s tall frame.
He moved his mouth, sliding it along hers, slipping his tongue between her lips, and without thought she opened for him, her heartbeat swelling to a triumphant rhythm as he took what she offered.
Yet it wasn’t really taking. This was mutual. The tangle of tongues, the slow exploration was a dance of give and take as if they relearned each other. It was as familiar as breathing but new too, rich with appreciation of what they’d missed.
