Not Even for Love(30)

Jordan couldn’t help the slight flutter in her throat. Angry as she was at him, she was more so with herself for responding to his bold sexuality. Even as she admired the well-tailored clothes, she was thinking of the body underneath them and of how it ignited her with consuming flames of passion.

The couple were on their way into the bar when Helmut spotted them. “Reeves,” he called across the posh lobby of the famous hotel. “Reeves Grant.” Jordan quailed. Vainly she had hoped they could leave without being seen.

Reeves jerked his head around and his face lit up in a disarming smile. “Hello, Helmut, Jordan.” He didn’t take his arm from its firm position around the redhead’s waspish waist. “My favorite subjects. What are you two up to?”

“We were invited to a dinner party,” Helmut said.

“Oh, yes.” Reeves snapped his fingers. “I remember now you saying something to that effect.”

He’s lying, Jordan thought. He knew exactly what they were doing here. He hadn’t looked her in the eye since Helmut had caught their attention.

“I want you to meet…uh… Diane? Yes, Diane… uh…?”

“Moffett,” the woman supplied, and dug into Reeves’s ribs with her elbow as though to say, You naughty boy. Jordan clenched her fists. Couldn’t the woman stand upright? Must she recline against Reeves that way?

“Yes, Diane Moffett,” Reeves said, and now he looked at Jordan with a triumphant gleam in his eyes. “Diane, this is Mrs. Jordan Hadlock and Mr. Helmut Eckherdt. Diane’s practically a neighbor of mine. She’s from Los Angeles. Isn’t it lucky we ran into each other this afternoon?”

Jordan couldn’t bear to look at his gloating expression any longer and shifted her eyes to the woman, who she thought seemed incredibly stupid. “Hello, Miss Moffett,” she said with cold politeness.

“Hi. I like your dress,” the woman replied cheekily.

“Thank you.” Jordan was glad she had worn this particular dress because she knew it was flattering. It was black sleeveless satin with a ruffled collar that plunged deeply between her breasts. Her waist was cinched with a shocking pink cummerbund. She had pulled her hair into a sleek knot at the back of her neck. Diamond studs in her ears were her only jewelry. Except for Helmut’s ring.

“We were on our way to the bar for a nightcap. We’d love for you to join us,” Reeves said.

Jordan almost gasped at his audacity. Rage boiled up in her chest until the pressure was painful. The man was totally without morals. How could he? How could he pick up another woman so soon after leaving her? Or was that his custom? Out of sight, out of mind? And he had had the gall to play the injured party just a few hours ago!

Helmut turned to her and asked, “Jordan?”

“I really don’t think so, Helmut. We’ve had such a full day, with this morning on the mountain …” Her voice trailed off, seemingly with a regretful declination. Actually, the memory of the intimacy she and Reeves had shared in the cable car and at the summit of the mountain had clogged her throat with remorse, and speech was rendered impossible.

“Please excuse us, Reeves, Miss Moffett.” Helmut bowed to them. “It seems that my lady is tired. I’d better take her home.” He smiled graciously and shook hands with Reeves. He raised the back of Diane Moffett’s hand to his lips and kissed it lightly. She giggled.

“Good night then, Helmut, Jordan,” Reeves said.

“Good night,” Jordan mumbled, and risked looking at him. That was a mistake. His lips were curled derisively and his eyes mocked her. Clearly he was saying, Coward.

She raised her chin haughtily as she walked away under the protective guidance of Helmut’s arm. But on the inside her heart was breaking. She had been right all along. He was out for thrills. Their night together during the storm had meant no more to him than this redhaired pickup did tonight.

Jordan all but crumpled into the back seat of the limousine and was silent during the ride home. She was amazed at her own absolute despondency. Had this man come to mean so much to her that the idea of him with another woman could reduce her to this stratum of misery?

Even when Helmut escorted her the few remaining blocks through the alleys of the old town, she didn’t feel inclined to speak. He attributed her silence to fatigue.

While her lips remained sealed, her mind was working furiously. She argued with herself. She really should tell Helmut now that she didn’t intend to marry him. He had asked her earlier in the evening if she had notified her parents yet of their engagement. Evasively, she had reminded him of how busy they had been the past couple of days. He was anxious to make their engagement public.