Into Temptation Page 3

  ‘Good evening everyone. Would you all like to come through now please?’

  Amber extricated herself from her latest dance partner, got herself a cold drink and swallowed nearly all of it down in one. Things were going far better than she could possibly have imagined: the speeches had gone off without a hitch, the buffet had been declared superb and the band had not only arrived a quarter of an hour earlier than promised but were going down a storm.

  Not nearly as much as her new look was, though.

  No one apart from Janet had been bold enough to say as much, but it was obvious in the newly enthusiastic responses she was engendering in the men – and the displeased glances of the women. Whereas just a few hours earlier she had been all but invisible, would have been quite prepared to put money on the fact that not one of them remembered her name, now every man in the room seemed to want to talk to her, buy her a drink, dance with her.

  Feeling the force of so many male eyes upon her had distinctly unnerved her at first: she was utterly unused to male attention, particularly in such abundance. But several glasses of champagne had done a great deal to help dispel her discomfort at finding herself the center of attention. And now she was positively enjoying it.

  But she’d been so busy talking that she hadn’t had anything to eat – and was beginning to feel distinctly tipsy. In dire need of fresh air she pushed open a side door and stepped out onto the hotel verandah. Below her the moon gleamed silver on the polished surface of the sea. Above, the climbing honeysuckle smoothed the salty overtones of the sea air with its warm, buttery scent.

  She pressed her cold glass to her hot forehead. Was this what life was like for women like Jessica, she wondered, the tingle of champagne purring warmly and deliciously through her veins. Was this how it felt to be an attractive woman, fêted and admired? It might be shallow to admit it, but if so, she liked it. Very much.

  The door opened suddenly and the music and chatter from the ballroom suddenly swelled out into the quiet night, then retreated again as the door shut.

  ‘Well hello there.’

  Amber looked up and recognised the delegate who’d been rude to her earlier that day. He was carrying a pint of beer, some of which had spilled and was forming into a dark stain on his shirt.

  ‘I wondered where you’d gone,’ he continued, a wide, salacious smile splitting his fleshy features. His thin blond hair was awry, and his face glistening with sweat.

  ‘I needed some air,’ she smiled, instinctively on guard. ‘It’s a bit hot in there.’

  ‘It’s not nearly as hot now you’re out here,’ he said, voice slurring. He moved closer, and she flinched. ‘You’re looking damned sexy tonight,’ he continued, drawing out the words suggestively. ‘Much better than you did earlier. Wouldn’t have looked at you twice then. But you certainly scrub up pretty well.’ Before she could respond his hand suddenly shot out and pinched her bottom.

  ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ she cried.

  ‘Couldn’t help myself,’ he leered. ‘Ripe fruit’s made for plucking after all.’

  She straightened, sobering quickly, and wishing she were more sober still. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back inside.’

  His hand catapulted out and clamped down over her forearm. ‘No need to get huffy. What’s the hurry?’ He slurped a mouthful of his drink. ‘Why don’t you stay out here a while and we can get to know one another properly?’

  She tried to shake her arm free, but the more she tried to extricate herself the stronger his grip grew. She felt a sudden kick of fear. ‘Let me go!’

  ‘Or what?’ he enunciated slowly, in a low, menacing voice, moving deliberately around so that her way back inside was blocked. ‘You don’t have to be so coy, you know, not with me. A woman who gets herself all dolled up like that obviously wants to provoke a reaction.’ He grinned slyly. ‘Or is this little innocent act just a part of your game?’

  Once more she tried to twist her arm free, but her efforts were in vain. ‘I can assure you, there are no games being played,’ she said, trying to keep the rising panic out of her voice. ‘Please let me go!’

  ‘Not until I’ve had a kiss at the very least,’ he growled.

  He pulled her roughly towards him and her heart juddered with pure horror. But then suddenly, miraculously, he staggered back, his glass smashing onto the ground. She turned and saw the outline of a tall, well-built man. A man who must have pushed him away. Oh thank God!

  ‘I think the lady made it clear she doesn’t want your company,’ came a calm, authoritative voice from the shadows.

  ‘What the hell…?’ The drunken man recovered himself, rallied his senses and squared up to the stranger. ‘Who the hell do you think you are?’

  ‘Someone you don’t want to take on. Now I suggest you apologise to the lady, go back inside, buy yourself another drink, and forget that this unfortunate incident ever took place. That’s my advice. Take it or leave it. But I warn you, choose not to take it and you’ll have only yourself to blame.’

  The delegate, who appeared a good several inches shorter than Amber’s rescuer, stared angrily at the stranger for a few seconds, face puckered with malice. ‘Are you threatening me? Because if…’ Then all at once he made a derisive sound of concession. ‘Oh what the hell do I care?’ he spat. ‘She’s not worth it anyway.’ He swung around to leave – but ran straight into the stranger’s hand, which he’d put out to stop him.

  ‘You forgot to apologise,’ he said.

  The delegate looked up at the stranger with a sneer. But what he read in the other man’s face clearly immediately convinced him of the error of his ways, because he turned back, apologised stiffly to Amber, then lumbered back inside.

  Amber, who had only just realised she was trembling, turned gratefully to the man who had extricated her. ‘Thank you! Oh thank you so much! I dread to think what would have happened if you hadn’t…’ The words froze on her lips as the tuxedoed man stepped forward from the shadows, the moon all at once bathing his face in light. He was without doubt the most handsome man she had ever seen: black hair, long, symmetrical face, a wide mouth set in a determined line. And dark, questioning brows hovering above a pair of the most amazing dark eyes… eyes that were slowly raking over her in a look so blatant in its appraisal that it made her suddenly want to cover herself.

  ‘Thank you,’ she managed to say.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ he said. ‘Unfortunately, a beautiful woman in a revealing dress can sometimes give the wrong man the wrong idea,’ he said.

  Somehow she managed to get a handle on her reeling senses. ‘What, you mean it’s my

  own fault I got manhandled?’

  ‘Not remotely. I’m simply saying that men are wired up differently, that’s all. I didn’t mean to offend you. Jack Ward.’ He held out his hand. His touch was warm and firm.

  ‘Amber Dorey.’

  ‘Yes, I know.’

  He knew who she was? But then he must have been at the conference… And if she’d seen Jack Ward before, she would certainly remember it. ‘I haven’t seen you at any of the conference events,’ she said.

  ‘No. I only arrived today.’

  ‘Oh. I see.’ Odd. Still, quite a few of the delegates came for only a portion of the presentations. Or perhaps he’d simply come to tie up some sort of deal. A lot of business was done at conferences. ‘Well you’ve missed most of the presentations,’ she smiled – then immediately wanted to kick herself for saying something so utterly lame.

  ‘Well I guess that’s my loss.’ He looked at his watch, and she felt a sudden dart of disappointment. Was he about to leave? Then, ‘Let me buy you a drink, Amber,’ he said.

  Just the sound of her name on his lips was seduction itself. Excitement shimmered through her. Was this unbelievably gorgeous man actually asking her to join him for a drink? ‘I’d like that,’ she said, trying to sound a lot cooler than she felt, as if she received drink invitations from criminally good-looking, myster
ious strangers every day of her life. ‘Shall… shall we go through to the bar?’ she offered.

  ‘No. Not here. There’s some kind of club place on the beach just a little further along the headland. The Sands, I think it’s called. Do you know it?’

  Know it? Of course she knew it. The Sands was the most exclusive place in Guernsey. You had to be a member to get in. But anyway, that was beside the point. She was the conference hostess. She couldn’t possibly leave. ‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘I have to stay here. It’s my job.’

  ‘It’s half-past eleven,’ he said. ‘The night is over. People are already leaving. You’ve played your part. No one will miss you. We can go now, through the garden.’

  ‘Half-past eleven, already?’

  Then all at once he put a finger under her chin, tilted up her face. The touch immediately oscillated through her, surprising and quickening her.

  ‘Don’t you ever do anything on the spur of the moment, Amber?’ he asked, his voice soft, but loaded. ‘Don’t you ever just decide you want something, and simply take it?’ He smiled, challenge in his dark eyes. If a wolf could smile, it would smile exactly like that, she thought suddenly, her senses resonating with danger – and excitement.

  ‘Well… that is… No, not really,’ she whispered, ‘I don’t suppose I do.’

  ‘Well perhaps tonight you should,’ he said, taking her face softly between his hands. A moment later his beautiful mouth was on hers, his tongue probing between her lips. She could scarcely breathe with the sheer, overwhelming power of it. Rory’s kisses had never been anything like this, she thought dimly, drowning in desire, unaware of anything but her sudden, overpowering need for this intoxicating man, Jack Ward, whoever he was, to go on kissing her, like this, forever…

  ‘Well?’ he asked eventually.

  ‘Well?’ she parroted, as if in a trance.

  ‘Will you come?’

  The voice of common sense, usually so insistent in her brain, was foundering, sinking, silenced by the whirling emotions assailing her. He was right: everyone would be leaving. It wouldn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Nothing except that she must stay with him and drink down more of whatever delicious magic potion he was using to enslave her with. ‘Yes,’ she breathed. ‘I will.’

  He reached for her hand. ‘Then let’s go.’

  Fifteen minutes later they were seated at the bar in The Sands Club.

  ‘A bottle of Roederer Cristal ‘96,’ he told the waitress. Then he turned back his bold, scrutinising gaze to her once more. In the soft lights of the bar she saw with a prick of excitement that his eyes were not black, as she had first thought, but a deep blue, framed by long lashes. His skin was lightly tanned, and his exceptionally well-cut tuxedo was teamed with a pair of very expensive, obviously handmade black shoes.

  This must be a fantasy, she thought hazily. A delicious dream. What was she, sensible Amber Dorey, doing sitting here in The Sands with this ridiculously handsome man – a man who seemed only to have to snap his fingers to get into an exclusive, members-only club. And all the while the conference hadn’t officially ended. The conference she was meant to be hosting. And she couldn’t summon up an ounce of guilt!

  Still, if it were just a fantasy, she didn’t want it to end. She felt as if she were literally floating on the soft summer evening. The terrace doors had been flung wide open, letting in the sound of the gentle lapping waves, and a band was playing smooth jazz hits in the corner. Would he kiss her again? She certainly hoped so… And soon.

  The waitress came back with the champagne.

  ‘So you’re in the insurance business then?’ she asked, wanting to break the charged silence – then immediately regretting the banality of her comment once again.

  ‘I have to buy a great deal of insurance for my business,’ he replied, taking the bottle from the waitress and filling her glass, ‘so from that point of view you could say so. But let’s not talk about business.’

  She took a sip of the vintage champagne. It was incredibly good. ‘What shall we talk about then?’ she asked.

  ‘Let’s talk about you.’

  ‘About me? What do you want to know?’

  ‘Well for instance, do you habitually dress like a mouse for work but then turn into a siren at night?’

  ‘How do you know what I wear for work?’

  ‘I noticed you earlier.’

  Her skin prickled hotly. ‘Well… It was a bit of a special occasion. And you should always make an effort for a special occasion, don’t you think?’ she babbled.

  There was that smile again – and that bold, appraising look, imprisoning her in its hold. ‘Yes. And it suits you very well,’ he said. ‘Very well indeed.’ She watched as something slid into his eyes, some sort of resolution. He put down his glass and extended a lean hand. ‘Let’s dance.’

  He led her not to the dance floor, where several couples were already swaying in time to the music, but out through the terrace doors and onto the beach outside. The jazz tinkled out into the warm night air in a lazy waterfall of melody. She took off her shoes and he took her in his arms. Then they began to move to the music. Suddenly she laughed.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ he asked, his dark eyes locking with hers.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Or rather, I do: this. This whole, surreal situation. A few hours ago I was getting ready for an insurance conference reception I didn’t want to go to, mixing and making small talk, introducing speech after boring speech. I wanted the day to be over before it had even begun. And now here I am, dancing on a moonlit beach with you – a stranger I’ve known for less than an hour. Things like this don’t happen to me. It doesn’t seem real.’

  He pulled her suddenly, roughly, to him. The feel of his long muscular frame pressed suddenly so intimately against her made her shudder with desire. Perhaps he felt her response, for he drew her closer still. And then his mouth came down once more over hers, this time much harder, bending her neck back, his hand cupping her buttock, pushing her up against him, leaving her breathless. Then suddenly his fingers brushed across her breasts. Unable to contain the chaotic feelings she cried out, pressing her hips up against him. He locked a hand into her hair and gently pulled up her head to his. She saw that his eyes, glittering in the moonlight, were heavy with desire. Something powerful, insistent, and very male radiated from him, making her quiver deep inside.

  ‘So,’ he asked, ‘was that real enough for you?’

  She swallowed hard. ‘Yes,’ she whispered.

  ‘I want you Amber,’ he said, his mouth close to her ear. ‘Now.’

  ‘Now?’ she repeated incredulously. ‘But…’

  ‘But what?’ he whispered, voice thick with need. ‘The beach is deserted. It’s warm, and the sand is soft.’ He kissed her neck, sending arrows of pure lust shafting through her. ‘There’s no feeling quite like sex in the open air.’

  Chapter Three

  She ought to refuse. Not only refuse, but slap him across that arrogant, handsome face of his. This was madness. He was a stranger she had only just met, a man she knew absolutely nothing about. And sleeping with strangers – however ridiculously, outrageously bloody handsome they might happen to be – wasn’t the sort of thing she did.

  But oh! If only she didn’t ache for him. If only he didn’t make her feel more alive than she’d ever felt before in her life. She thought she might pass out from sheer desire.

  ‘Jack, I…’ she stammered, ‘I…’ And then, as his tongue once again forced her lips apart and her body automatically jolted into response, emboldened by the champagne, her instincts were silenced by a rush of pure, elemental need. She knew what she would do. She would make love with him. Yes. Oh God yes.

  Suddenly she was sick to death of commonsense, dull Amber, leading her safe, unchallenging existence. The Amber that everyone, apparently, thought constantly had her nose to the grindstone. The Amber who’d saved herself for one man – who’d of cheated on her without a second thought. Naïve, blind, t
rusting Amber, who’d kept her virginity wrapped up in a box like something precious – only to have it thrown back in her face. Exactly where had her precious scruples got her?

  Tonight, decked out in borrowed finery, she’d had a glimpse of a whole new existence. An Amber that men no longer saw straight through; an Amber who danced, laughed, had fun – tantalised and flirted. Didn’t she deserve, for just one night, to feel special? To know what it felt like to be made love to by a man like Jack Ward?

  And no one need ever know. He was just a guest at the conference, here today and in all likelihood gone tomorrow. All it would be was a delicious, private fantasy made real for one night.

  And it would mean, in an odd sort of way, getting her own back on Rory. He would no longer be the only man she’d ever slept with.

  Registering her silence, her unstated agreement, he led her back up the beach to a dark, deserted sand dune, sheltered beneath a clump of rocks, then took off his jacket and laid it on the soft sand for her.

  ‘It’s not exactly the Ritz,’ he said in a low, edged voice, ‘but I can’t wait for you any longer, Amber. You’re driving me insane.’

  His mouth once again came down over hers, robbing her of breath. He slid down the spaghetti straps of her dress, then felt for her bra and deftly undid it. Her breasts were exposed, gleaming softly like two satiny white peaches in the moonlight. She shivered as the warm breeze brushed across them, teasing her nipples into stiffness, making her ache for his touch.

  His mouth finally releasing hers, he went first not to her breasts, but to the smooth, sensitive white expanse of skin underneath, kissing her, running his tongue over her, exquisitely probing, making her stomach clench with longing. Then his fingers grazed over one burning, sensitised nipple and she almost cried out. He toyed with first one, then the other, his face so close to her skin that she could feel his breath across her breasts. She ached for him to take them into his mouth, but he was prolonging her pain, protracting it until she thought she could stand it no more. Then at last, roughly, he took one swollen bud into his hot mouth.