She closed her eyes and ate it, afraid to see the mocking look of triumph in his, but sheer greed-a new and rather frightening animal-took over and she gave an instinctive little moan of pleasure.
'Like it?' he murmured.
Her eyes snapped open, but it was not triumph she read in his eyes, but relish, as if he was pleased to see her discovering the delight of indulging her hunger and then satisfying it.
Keri shrugged and gave him a rueful look. 'It's delicious.'
He put some more on the fork and held it up to her. 'See what you've been missing?'
She shook her head. 'No, honestly, I couldn't … '
'Shut up,' he said, but gently. 'And eat.'
The second forkful went the way of the first, and two more followed. She shook her head. 'I mustn't have any more-really, Jay-I'm eating all your supper!'
He considered telling her that he had deliberately put enough food on the plate for two, but decided against it. If she thought it had been pre-planned then her defences might go up, and that he most definitely didn't want.
The heaped fork moved from where it hovered close to her mouth back to his, and his lips closed round it. Something about that gesture was deeply erotic. There was silence, save for the spitting of the fire, and her eyes were fixed to his, as if they had drawn her in by their sheer, mesmeric power, rendering her incapable of breaking the gaze.
He licked his lips and smiled. 'One for me, and one for … you.'
Keri opened her mouth like an obedient child, feeling both weak and strong as he fed her again. The food was filling her full of warmth and energy, but it was an odd, slumberous kind of energy, and with it came helplessness as she recognised that never before had she realised that eating in itself could be a very sexual act.
Very soon the plate was completely clean, and Jay surveyed it with satisfaction and then looked at her. 'What a pity it's all gone. I was enjoying that.' He meant the feeding, not the eating.
Another gulp of wine. 'Yes.'
He glanced down at the dish of peaches-all golden and glistening and slickly luscious-and the stealthy beat of desire grew even stronger. 'We've still got pudding,' he said softly, and his eyes gleamed out a silent challenge. 'Your turn now.'
But Keri couldn't. Just the thought of slipping the soft fruit into his mouth was enough to make her feel very churned up indeed. Her hand would shake-she just knew it would-and then he might get some inkling of what was going on inside her head.
And her body.
Her limbs felt weighted and deliciously lethargic, and yet there was the sensation of blood beating like thick syrup through her veins, of her fingers and toes inexorably unfurling, along with her senses.
She shook her head, grounded and yet unbearably dizzy. 'Not for me, thanks, I'm full-but help yourself.'
Jay didn't want the peaches, not unless she was going to feed them to him the way he had done to her, but his brief feeling of disappointment was replaced by an infinitely better one of expectation. He thought of the blonde who had been pursuing him these past months-she wouldn't have fed him the peaches either, but by now she probably would have had half his clothes off and be busy feeding herself on his body.
It had been a long time, he realised, since he had wanted something he wasn't sure he was going to get.
'I'll pass too,' he said idly, and leaned back against the sofa instead, cradling the claret in his hand and watching the living beauty of the fire. 'So, how long have you been a model?'
The question broke the mood she had longed to be broken, but Keri had to fight her unreasonable sense of dismay. Conversation like this was safer by far-and surely that was preferable?
The wine had made her garrulous. 'Since I left school-well, actually, that's not quite true-I was still at school.' She thought how at ease he looked, lying there, one leg bent at the knee as he balanced his weight negligently on his elbow, the wine sending out dappled ruby reflections over his strong fingers, and she found herself imagining those fingers running with instinctive mastery over her body. Oh, for heaven's sake, Keri, she chided herself-since when did you start having fantasies like that?
'Mmm?' He raised his dark eyebrows, as if to prompt her, trying to rid himself of the image of her in pigtails and a school uniform.
With an effort she dragged her mind back to the subject in question. 'I was visiting London with my sister-'
'Is she a model too?'
Keri shook her head. 'No, she's a mother.' And a widow. She rushed on, the thoughts of that too painful. 'We were just having a coffee at Waterloo Station when a woman came over and asked if I'd ever thought about modelling.'
'The way it happens in all the movies?'
'Sort of.'
'And had you thought about it before that?'
Keri shrugged. 'It had crossed my mind from time to time-other people were always telling me I should try-but … '
His eyes gleamed. 'But?'
'Well, what I really wanted to do was interior design. Added to that I was very tall and very skinny, and that makes you kind of self-conscious.'
'Not the best quality for someone hoping for a career in front of the cameras, I would have thought,' he observed thoughtfully.
She had thought that too, but had soon discovered that a skinny and insecure girl who towered over her peers could become someone else in front of the camera. When it was make-believe it was easy to pretend that you were supremely confident and at ease with yourself.
'I was lucky,' she said truthfully. 'All that self-consciousness just vanished in front of the lens-and my face is one of those which looks better in photographs than it does in real life.'
He didn't agree. He thought she looked softer and more touchable in real life-far more of a woman when she wasn't acting up for the lens. 'The camera loves you, you mean?'
She nodded. 'So far-touch wood.'
'And what happens when it no longer does?'
Keri frowned. With uncanny precision he had alighted on every model's most abiding fear-of being last-year's face, the face the public have tired of. 'Some people go on for years,' she said defensively.
'That isn't what I asked,' he mused. 'I was asking when-because presumably few continue into old age?'
Keri sipped at her wine again, because that seemed easier than answering straight away. He really did seem uncomfortably good at asking the right sort of questions. Or the wrong. She couldn't think of an answer that would satisfy him-or herself. That occasionally she dreamed of a 'normal' life? If she said she wanted to get married and start a family it would sound needy, as if she was unfulfilled because she didn't have a man.
And that wasn't true-she couldn't even lose herself in the everywoman fantasy about one day falling in love with a man who matched her every emotional and physical need. The two seemed intertwined; you couldn't have one without the other-and when you had never had one in particular …
She was aware that he was still looking at her questioningly, and she hoped that those discerning eyes hadn't noticed the fact that her cheeks had grown warm-but even if they had she guessed she could always blame it on the fire.
She stared into the flickering flames. 'I've never really given much thought to the future.'
'So the interior design went by the wayside?'
'I guess it did.' She looked up at him and met the question in his eyes with a shrug. 'I've done a few projects-just for fun, really-my own apartment and my sister's house, and I loved doing those.'
'So why not switch careers?'
'Because I haven't quite reached the stage of ageing has-been,' she remarked sardonically. 'And even if I wanted to it's notoriously difficult to break into something like that unless you have experience, and to gain experience you have to start at the bottom of the ladder.' She gave a grimace. 'And I'm not sure I'd want to do that. Not now.'
'You could always branch out on your own,' he suggested.
Keri frowned. Since when had he become an expert on careers? He was hardly in a position to offer advice! She switched the interrogation from him to her. 'And what about you? I mean, do you plan to be a driver for the rest of your life?'
Her subtle emphasis on the word driver didn't escape him, and Jay smiled as he refilled their glasses. She wanted to put some distance between them, to tell him that he was stepping out of line by asking such searching questions, particularly given his lowly status.