He sighed. People got so hung up on status-they let it blind them to the things that really mattered and they hid behind it, as if it could protect them from the world.
'Well, that's the beauty of a job like this,' he said expansively. 'Easy come, easy go.'
How casual he made it sound-and yet it was interesting, in a funny kind of way. She never mixed with men who didn't put ambition at the top of their list of desires. 'And have you always done it?' she asked curiously. 'Driving, I mean?'
Jay almost laughed aloud, and if he hadn't been so easy in his own skin he might have taken offence at her assumption. Did she really think that he would have been happy sitting behind the wheel of a car all these years, ferrying around people like her, who were so far removed from the real world as to be on another planet?
His expansive mood evaporated. He threw another log on the fire. He didn't broadcast his past; people-especially women-seemed to be fascinated to the point of intrusion by a life which had been composed largely of excitement and danger and deprivation and discipline. His mouth tightened.
'Not always, no.'
His evasion interested her too, because in her experience men were renowned for wanting to talk about themselves.
'Oh? What kind of things have you done?'
Now she was very definitely patronising him, and it had the effect of making him want to master and subdue her. He suppressed it. For the moment.
'I was in the US Navy,' he said shortly. 'A SEAL.'
Keri screwed her nose up, but he didn't appear to be joking. 'What's that, exactly? I mean, I've heard of Navy SEALs, but I don't know much about them.'
He relaxed a little. She didn't know much about them. This was one of the reasons he'd chosen to come back to England-over here there was none of the SEAL-as-hero stuff which he'd lived with since the age of eighteen.
'What is a SEAL?' He played it down, the way he always did. 'Well, we root and toot and parachute,' he murmured, his eyes glittering as he saw her look of utter incomprehension. 'We're a combination of frog-man and paratrooper,' he explained. 'We blow things up, dive to the deepest depths and jump from insane heights.' And we always get the pretty girl.
'So, were you an officer?'
This time Jay did laugh. He guessed that type of differentiation would be very important to her. One of the ratings certainly wouldn't be good enough for Miss Beauty. 'Yes, Keri,' he answered gravely. 'I was an officer.'
That explained a lot. The strength, the resourcefulness, the cool confidence in a crisis. And the body, of course-hard, honed muscle like that was the result of years of training. She had been right-you didn't get to look like that if you just frequented the gym, no matter how often.
And the US bit explained the slight drawl, the accent she had never heard before-and it might also explain the ease with which he spoke to her, because weren't Americans better at breaking down class barriers than their English counterparts?
'So you are American?'
Her body language was relaxing into the conversation, her long, long legs as coltish as they'd looked in his driver's mirror. Jay remembered the brief, tantalising view of her lacy stocking-tops and he felt the deep beat of his pulse in response. Maybe he would talk all she liked, if that was what it took to loosen her up.
'Half and half,' he said. 'Or maybe neither. That happens sometimes when you're torn between two cultures.' He saw her interested, inquisitive gaze. In any other situation he would have changed the subject-moved it on or away-but this was not any other situation, it was this one, and its very isolation seemed designed to draw out confidences he would usually have kept locked away.
'I grew up in both countries after my parents divorced,' he said tightly. 'My father was American and my mother British-but I hold dual nationality and that's what qualified me to join.' Along with an endurance test designed purposely to weed out all but the very toughest of the tough.
Keri blinked in confusion. Surely being in the US Navy was a lot more preferable to this? 'And did you er, did you have to leave?'
'You mean, was I kicked out?'
'No, I didn't mean that-'
'Oh, yes, you did, and no, I wasn't-it was just time to leave.'
'You'd had enough?'
Yes, he'd had enough. Too many demonstrations of how ultimately frail man could be-too many reminders of the shortness of life and the inevitability of death. It was a young man's game-always had been and always would be-and it needed a young man's vigour and invincible belief in himself. Once that was gone you were no good to anyone-least of all yourself. Or to people who needed you …
'Something like that,' he said shortly, and this time he could do nothing to stop the memories which came back to haunt him-nothing like as powerful as they had been in those early days and nights, but still powerful enough to make him flinch. Memories of death and betrayal which were light-years away from most men's experiences. And honour. Always honour. Honour and service.
'That kind of job has its own limited life-span-a bit like yours, probably.'
A muscle was working in the strong face, and for the first time Keri noticed a tiny, tiny scar which tracked down it. She reached her hand out, as if to touch it, but she did not. 'How did you do that?'
His eyes grew cold and hard, like flint.
'Oh, just something,' he said dismissively.
Keri knew when not to probe any further, and she dragged her attention away from his face, feeling curiously disorientated. She was alone in a deserted place with a man she scarcely knew-a man with muscles which looked real and a scarred face. A real man, not a silk-clad concoction of the city.
She should be scared and on her guard, but she wasn't. Inside, she felt warm and replete from the unexpectedly delicious food, and lulled by the velvet glow of the rich wine. She stretched her legs out, as if testing how far they would reach, feeling at peace, something beyond her control subduing the knowledge that this was somehow wrong-how could it be?
All she was doing was making the best of a bad situation. Only she was fast coming to the conclusion that it wasn't so bad at all. Quite the contrary. The fact that he had been in the Navy gave him a life other than as a driver, and somehow it made her feel safe.
She felt her gaze drawn towards him again and found that his attention was on her. It was a curious yet assessing look, and maybe she should have looked away, but she didn't-didn't want to. His eyes were dark and glittering-she still couldn't make out what colour they were-and all she was aware of was that a ripple of awareness had begun to lick at her skin.
There was a sudden soft hush in the air. Jay saw her relax. Saw the reflex as her fingers lost the tension which had stiffened them, like the way a woman relaxed after orgasm, and he felt the irresistible kick of desire as he put his empty wine glass down in the grate.
There were times to move and times to stay, and he would have wagered every cent he had that she wanted him to move. And why not? They had a long night to get through.
Flopping into her dark eyes was her over-long fringe, and he reached out and touched it, as if to brush it away. But he didn't. The feel of her skin was so soft that he left the tip of his finger right there, began to curl one of the wayward strands around it.
It felt curiously and inexplicably right. She should have shaken her head away, or demanded to know just what he thought he was playing at. And what did she do? She said one little word.
'Jay … ' The word came out as a murmured and breathy little sound; it didn't sound a bit like her.
'Mmm?' He heard the catch in her voice and felt the race of his heart. 'Don't you like me tidying up your hair for you, Keri? It's all mussed.'
But he wasn't tidying up her hair at all, she thought wildly. The hair lay neglected as instead he stroked his fingertips down her face to the line of her jaw, and she shivered beneath what was outwardly such an innocent gesture but which felt like the most erotic thing she had ever felt before. And how ridiculous was that?