The Heat Of Passion

Her nails skidded down the long sweep of his back and he moaned against her mouth, biting erotically at her lower lip in punishment. Rawly impatient hands dealt with the scrap of silk that was all that shielded her from him. When he found the damp, eager heat of her, a wild cry escaped her. She was poised like a diver on the edge of a deep, beckoning abyss and she knew she would throw herself off even though she couldn't swim. The sheer primitive need she was controlled by was closer to agony than ecstasy.

'You're mine... from this moment on,' Carlo spelt out roughly, 'you are mine.'

She collided with glittering dark eyes, unreadable in the moonlight, and her mouth ran suddenly dry, a shaft of returning sanity tightening her every muscle in rejection.

But his hand slid over her quivering body, shattering her with her own response. There was a buzzing sound somewhere in the background. She closed it out but after a while Carlo began to tense. Abruptly, he lifted his dark head and swore viciously under his breath. A second

later, he rolled away from her and the light went on as he answered the phone.

It took several seconds for Jessica to appreciate that Carlo was talking in fast, urgent Italian. He cast aside the phone, his starkly handsome features pale and rigidly cast, his brilliant dark eyes hooded. Without a word or a glance, he strode out of the room.

Jessica was in a passion-induced daze, only slowly fumbling her way back to the real world. But at Carlo's exit she sat up. Dear God, had he had bad news about his father? In confusion she absorbed her own nudity and, hurriedly vacating the bed, found a robe to pull on. She wanted to go to Carlo, offer sympathy and comfort, and the instant she recognised that need within her, she collapsed down on the edge of the mattress and covered her face with unsteady hands.

Dear heaven, what was happening to her? What was going on inside her head? For six years she had told herself that she hated this man and yet a mere second ago her most driving urge had been to rush to his side and ease his pain by whatever means were within her power. Suddenly, she was plunged into complete turmoil by the conflicting signals between her thoughts and her emotions. Fearfully she sought to rationalise her feelings.

So much had happened so fast, she told herself weakly. This whole situation put her under severe strain. In addition, she was deeply ashamed of the fact that she could not withstand Carlo's blatant sexuality. Really it was hardly surprising, she decided, that her emotions should become wildly confused as well. She was only now learning the kind of things that most women already knew by their late teens. Desire was not love but maybe her puritanical inner self wanted her to behave as though it were. Was that what was the matter with her?

She didn't know how long she had been sitting there when she glanced up and saw Carlo framed in the doorway. He was still and silent as a statue.

Jessica swallowed hard, intimidated by his aggressive stance. 'What’s wrong?'

Carlo released his breath with an audible hiss. 'Why didn't you tell me that your father was in a nursing home?' he demanded.

'How did you find out?' Sharply disconcerted, Jessica stared at him wide-eyed.

'My PA, Spiros, attempted to contact him this evening. He called to let me know and I have just finished speaking to Dr Guthrie on the phone,’

Jessica lost every scrap of colour.

'Why didn't you tell me?' Carlo thundered with sudden raw condemnation. 'Why didn't you tell me that he was in an unstable frame of mind?'

Jessica rose unsteadily upright, shattered by his fury.

'I didn't think '

'What didn't you think? That it would make any difference to me?' Carlo's outrage was so great, he could barely vocalise the question. Strain had etched lines into his sun-bronzed skin, flattened his sensual mouth. 'Is this your opinion of me? That I would happily drive a man to suicide?'

Jessica trembled. Voiced like that, it sounded ap

palling. 'I only thought you wouldn't consider it... rel

evant '

'Relevant.' Carlo only got the repetition out with the greatest of visible difficulty, his accent scissoring along the syllables like a cut-throat razor.

‘My father insists that he was not trying to harm himself,' she heard herself protesting weakly. Carlo was looking at her as if he had never seen her before. And it was equally obvious that he did not like what he did see.

'Last night you made no attempt to tell me that your father was in such extreme distress... not once did you even hint of such a danger!' he spelt out with sizzling disbelief.

'I didn't think you'd care,’

Carlo went white and spun away from her, both hands clenched into fists. 'I don't think I have ever been closer to physical violence than I am now,' he bit out in seething incredulity. 'How dare you say to me that I would not have cared? Dio... to think I almost made love to you! What did I ever do that you should view me in such a light?'

Jessica bent her head, attacked by sudden shame and

confusion. Carlo was so absolutely appalled by what he

had learnt. 'I... I ‘