The Final Seduction(12)

'Drew, please-' she managed, wondering whether he knew that those  rosebuds were tightening now beneath the concealing blanket of foam.

'I'd been running and I was pouring with sweat, and I saw you stretched  out on a towel with your arms raised so languidly above your head, and I  could barely move-' It had been one of the most exquisitely frustrating  erections of his life, and in forcing himself to quell it he had only  succeeded in making himself ache all the more.

'Drew, don't-' She moved her hips restlessly. 'Don't … '

Ignoring her plea, he simply stared very hard at her. 'And do you remember what I did next?'

'You shouted at me and threw me your T-shirt,' she responded dully. 'And told me to cover myself up.'

'So I did.' He gave a disbelieving laugh as he recalled the hypnotic  lure of seeing her pale flesh contrasted against the darker curves of  the baking pebbles. That lure had kept him abroad far longer than he had  intended, for he'd seen the danger she represented-a danger he had not  contemplated at that stage in his young life.

Yet, perversely, the more he denied it, the more her allure had  stubbornly refused to go away. And every woman he was intimate with in  those subsequent years wore shiny gold bikini bottoms in the fevered  longings of his mind.

He came and crouched down beside the bath, so that his face was on a  level with hers, and she found that she couldn't look away from the  compelling blue blaze of his eyes. 'God-what a fool I was with you,  Shelley. To be so in awe of your innocence that I let it control me!'

She shook her head, but it felt weighted and useless, too heavy for her  neck. 'Nothing controls you, Drew. You're the one who does the  controlling.'

He reached his hand out and trickled a finger down the damp flush of her  cheek, feeling the unresisting silk of her skin. 'Am I really?' he  questioned softly. 'No, I don't think so. I let my conscience control me  for too long-protecting my innocent bride-to-be, when all the time she  couldn't wait … couldn't wait for marriage and the man she professed to  love. You wanted sex so badly that you were prepared to give yourself to  the first man who came along, weren't you, Shelley?'

She leaned her head back against the bath, too weary to protest, too  comfortable to move. 'I'm too tired to argue with you,' she sighed. 'It  wasn't like that.'

'Oh, yes, it was,' he contradicted forcefully. 'You know damned well it was!'

She shook her head. 'No, Drew. You placed me on an impossible  pedestal-which you seemed to glory in smashing from underneath my feet!  It was all right for you! You'd lived a little; you'd gone travelling  and tasted all that the world had to offer. And then you came home to  your virgin bride-how perfect! But you never gave a thought to my needs,  or my feelings, did you? You couldn't resist those women abroad, but  you could certainly resist me!'

'So the way you behaved was my fault-is that what you're saying, Shelley?'

Suddenly he stood up and moved away and her eyes followed him, missing  him, needing him, wishing that she could travel back in time and that  everything could be so different.

But it couldn't. And she wasn't going to open herself up to more hurt by  hankering after a man who had no interest in her other than sexual.  Especially a man who had once loved her.

He stood there staring down at her, his face a weave of complex planes  and shadows, and she wondered if he was aware of how much she desired  him.

Even after all this time.

'Get out,' she mumbled, her eyelids feeling as if someone had perched lead weights on them.

He frowned. 'I'm not going anywhere until I'm convinced that you're not  going to fall asleep. Do you have any idea of how long you've been lying  there?'

'Not long enough!' She struggled to keep her eyes open and finally got  around to asking what she should have asked the moment he'd nonchalantly  strolled into the bathroom. 'What are you doing here, anyway?'                       
       
           



       

'I thought I'd better check you hadn't drowned.' He looked into her rosy  face, at the dilated pupils of her drowsy eyes. She was looking at him  as though she was drowning, he observed thoughtfully, before closing his  mind to that wide-eyed appeal.

'And did you just happen to be passing?' she asked him sleepily. 'Or do  you go around playing guardian angel to all the female guests? Barging  into their bathrooms and leering at them?'

'No, I make an exception for you, Shelley.' He laughed softly. 'I always  did. As for leering-that kind of implies that it's unwanted attention,  and I certainly didn't hear you objecting a minute ago! In fact, I  rather got the feeling that you were sorry I stopped.'

'Well, you would, wouldn't you? The phrase may have gone out of  fashion-but you obviously haven't moved with the times since you are the  original male chauvinist pig, Drew Glover!'

'Ah, but pigs can be very lovable animals, Shelley! Now why don't you  let that water out and catch up on some sleep before I buy you dinner?'

She very nearly sat up in indignation, but remembered where she was just  in time, and contented herself with a snort instead. 'You have to be  out of your tiny little mind!'

'Very probably.'

'You seriously think I want to have dinner with you?'

He shook his head. 'No, that's just the thing-I don't. Certainly not on  any sensible, rational level. Any more than I wish to have dinner with  you. And yet at the same time there is nothing I want more, and the same  goes for you, Shelley. If I go home and eat supper alone-or even with  someone else-I'll spend the whole evening thinking about you. Wondering  about you. What your life has been and whether it's lived up to all its  promise.'

'I'm flattered!'

'Oh, don't be!' His mouth flattened. 'It's only like the scratching of  an itch, or the slaking of a thirst. I don't want you to be an enigma  any more-so let's have dinner as equals. Simple. An equal I can deal  with.'

'Deal with?' she questioned uncertainly.

'Sure. We both know that there is a sense of unfinished business between  us, and don't deny it, Shelley, because I can read in your eyes that  you agree. It's an interesting but rather annoying dilemma, isn't it?  For both of us to be drawn so irresistibly towards something we'd both  rather forget? But at least this time my desire for you is not  restricted by any outdated morals. So-' he raised his brows '-dinner?'

'What if I told you I'm not hungry?'

'Then I'd be justified in calling you a liar!' he retorted softly,  staring down at the highest cheekbones he had ever seen on a woman. 'But  telling the truth was never your strong point, was it, Shelley?' He  stared down at the pinched paleness of her face. 'You look bloody awful  as it is-and I don't want you collapsing on me.'

'Why should you care whether I collapse or not, Drew?'

'Care?' He laughed, but it was the emptiest sound she had ever heard.  "'Care" wouldn't be my word of choice, Shelley. Let's just say that it's  about time we tied up the loose ends left over from our relationship  once and for all. Maybe then we'll both be free of whatever it is that  still binds us.'

'And for tying loose ends I presume you're talking about sex?'

'Well, I certainly don't mean a restrained courtship,' he answered cruelly. 'Been there; done that!'

'You are a hard, hard man!' she shot back, then wished she could bite  her words back as she saw his arrogant responding smile. She waited for  some remark which was heavy with innuendo.

But Drew was never predictable.

'Just get out of the tub, Shelley,' he growled as he swung out of the bathroom.





CHAPTER SIX




SHELLEY was covered in goosebumps as she climbed out of the bath once  Drew had gone. She dipped her hand in and fished around in the soapy  water to find the plug and let it out. The water was now almost  completely cold! But her teeth stopped chattering once she had wrapped  herself in the monstrous bathrobe which hung on the back of the door.  She stood by the open door of the bathroom, put her head to one side,  and listened.

Nothing.

Her breathing sounded magnified in her ears as she went back into the  lilac bedroom, half expecting to see him arrogantly sprawled out on the  shiny expanse of the bed, but the room looked empty.

'Drew?' Her voice sounded indistinct. 'Are you still in here?'                       
       
           



       

Feeling a little like an amateur detective, she even peeped behind the  silky lilac curtains, until she had satisfied herself that he had  definitely gone!

Except that satisfied was probably as inappropriate a description for  her as 'care' had been for him. She felt far from satisfied-more angry  with herself and with him. And mixed up, too-because, yes, she still  wanted Drew as much as he clearly wanted her. She had known that from  the moment they had seen one another on the beach. Only this time he was  not being held back by some old-fashioned sense of what was right. He  had told her that, too, and with heartbreaking honesty.