No Need for Love

Quickly, she crossed to the dresser. Estrella had put her things away carefully, lingerie in the top drawer, cotton sweaters in the second—and swimsuits in the third. Hannah lifted out a white one, a bikini that was modest by current standards but still more revealing than any suit she’d ever owned.

‘You’ll look gorgeous in it,’ Grant’s sister had insisted. She looked at herself in the mirror. What she looked was half-naked, but what did that matter? She would have the pool to herself.

She left her bedroom quietly. The flagstone floor of the atrium was warm against her bare feet; when she slipped into the water it seemed like silk against her skin. She swam endless laps, until finally she felt the dullness of exhaustion creep into her bones, and she climbed out of the pool to sink on to a lounger.

The sun was hot. Very hot. After a moment, Hannah closed her eyes.

… hands stroking across her, their touch light but exciting. ‘Hannah.’ Hands turning her over, drifting on her skin. Breath whispering against her hair, lips cool and sweet against her own. ‘Hannah, sweetheart.’

‘Hannah.’

‘Mmm.’ Sighing, she let the hands raise her up. She lifted her arms, curved them around the strong, masculine neck, let her fingers curl into the silken hair…

‘Hannah. Hannah, wake up.’

Her eyes flew open. Grant was seated on the lounger beside her, holding her in his arms. His torso was sunhot, naked against hers, his face so close that she could feel his breath on her cheek.

‘Grant?’ she whispered.

He smiled just a little. ‘Yes.’ His voice was soft and deep. ‘You were dreaming.’

She swallowed drily. She felt as if she’d slept days instead of hours. ‘I must have fallen asleep.’

His arms tightened around her. ‘What were you dreaming about?’

Their eyes met. I was dreaming about you, she thought, about you, Grant…

‘Nothing special,’ she said carefully.

‘Really?’ He smiled into her eyes. ‘Then why were you making that little sound?’

She was too confused to pretend she didn’t know what he was talking about.

‘I don’t know,’ she said, ‘I was just dreaming, and—and…’ She fell silent. He was too close to her, much too close. His skin smelled faintly of sun and sweat, a scent more heady and sensual than any ever created by a chemist for a men’s cologne.

She took a steadying breath and pasted a smile to her face.

‘I was dreaming that—that I was drinking a tall glass of iced water,’ she said with a little laugh.

‘I can make that dream come true.’ He smiled and leaned away from her. When he turned around, there was a tall, frosted glass in his hand. ‘Will lemonade do?’

The breath rushed from her lungs. ‘Oh, yes,’ she said. ‘It’ll do very nicely. Thanks.’ She drank half the glass. ‘Just what I needed,’ she said brightly.

‘Yes.’ His hand brushed hers as he took the glass from her and put it on the table. ‘I should have warned you. The sun’s much stronger here than it is back home.’

Hannah nodded. Why did he keep sitting beside her? Why didn’t he get up and sit on one of the other loungers, or slip into the pool?

She ran her tongue across her lips. ‘Have you—have you been into the pool yet?’

‘No, not yet.’

‘Well, you should try it. The water’s wonderful, very cool and—and…’

She was babbling like an idiot. It was his fault, not hers. It was disconcerting to have him sit so close to her, to have to watch the way his dark lashes fanned against his cheeks when he looked down, to have to see the play of muscle in his shoulders.

Hannah swung her feet to the flagstone floor. ‘I guess I’ll go inside now. I——’

‘Come into the pool first.’

She looked up at him as he got to his feet. Her throat went dry. How beautiful he was! She had thought that this morning, when she’d seen him standing by the window wearing a towel; now, in a black Spandex suit, she could see even more of his body, see the narrow male hips, the washboard belly, the rounded convexity that was his manhood.

‘Hannah?’ She looked up at him. ‘You’re all flushed,’ he said softly.

‘Grant——’

‘It’s the heat,’ he said. ‘The sun.’ He smiled and held his hand out to her. ‘Take a swim and cool off before you go inside. You’ll feel better.’

She put her hand in his and stood. Nothing would make her feel better, she thought dizzily, nothing but getting out of this house. But she let him draw her to the rocky steps that led down into the pool, and into the water.

‘You can let go,’ she said with a quick smile when the water was at her waist. ‘I know how to swim.’

‘Come in a little deeper,’ he said softly, and he led her to where the rocky overhang formed a ledge over which water tumbled into the pool.

The water lapped softly at her breasts as he led her under the coolness of the waterfall.

‘There.’ He smiled. ‘Isn’t that nice?’

It was. But it seemed a mistake to tell him so—and yet wouldn’t it be petty to do anything less?

She smiled, too. ‘Yes. Very.’

‘Your hair’s getting wet,’ he said.,

She laughed, surprising even herself. ‘I don’t mind,’ she said, tilting her head back and closing her eyes. Grant had been right; the water did feel good. It felt wonderful against her heated skin.

‘Hannah.’ She opened her eyes. Grant was watching her, and when she saw his face her breath caught. His eyes were like obsidian, his mouth was a slashing line in his taut face. ‘Hannah,’ he said again, and he reached out one hand, very slowly, and ran it down her wet hair to her throat.

She swallowed hard. ‘Don’t. Please.’

‘Do you know how beautiful you are?’ he whispered. His fingers traced a pattern over her wet skin, skimmed across the rise of her breasts.

‘Grant,’ she whispered.

She wanted to tell him not to do this, but she couldn’t. Her heart was racing as if she’d just climbed the mountain on foot. His fingers felt like tiny flames as they traced a path down her hip, and she felt a need building inside herself, a need that seemed stronger than her determination to stop him.

‘I’ve wondered what you look like naked,’ he said, his voice very soft, so soft she could barely hear it. ‘I’ve imagined your body, the fullness of your breasts.’ She gave a little gasp as his hand brushed across her bosom; she felt the instantaneous lift of her nipples and saw, in the swift darkening of his eyes, that Grant had seen it, too. ‘I’ve pictured the sweet curve of your hips, the slight rounding of your belly…’

Hannah began to tremble. ‘Don’t,’ she whispered, ‘oh, don’t…’

Grant stepped closer. His hands went to her hips, curved around her, cupped her buttocks.

‘I lie awake at night, thinking of what it will be like when we make love the first time.’ A moan whispered from her throat. His hands pressed lightly against her, urging her to him, and she came willingly, moving to him until their bodies touched. ‘Will your thighs open for me?’ His voice dropped until it was like thick, liquid honey. ‘Will you wrap your legs around me and cry out when I enter you?’

Hannah swayed and his arms went around her, one hand dropping to the small of her back, bringing her tight against him. The hardness of his erection pressed into her belly.

‘Hannah.’ His breath whispered against her skin as he kissed the pulse racing at the hollow of her throat.

When his mouth found hers, she could not stop herself from kissing him back with wild, abandoned passion, her mouth open, her hands clinging to his shoulders. It was he who ended the kiss, putting her from him, holding her until her lashes lifted heavily from her flushed cheeks.

She looked at him. He was not smiling with a knowing triumph as she was afraid he might be; he was watching her instead with a look she could not define. Did he know that he could take her now if he wante

d to, here, under the sky, with the sun beating down and the water surrounding them like warm silk?

After a long time, his hands fell away from her and he stepped back.

‘Dinner in an hour,’ he said, very calmly, as if what had just happened had been nothing but a dream.

It was as if she had been set free of a conjurer’s spell. Hannah turned and dived under the water. She surfaced when she reached the edge of the pool, hoisted herself up, and then, without once looking back, made her way swiftly to her room and locked the door after her.

‘Oh, God,’ she whispered.

She knew he’d tried to seduce her—and he’d damned near succeeded.

She made her way unsteadily to the bathroom, stripped off her suit, and stepped into the shower. She turned the spray on full, tipped her head back, and let the cold water beat down on her face and body.

How would she manage four weeks of this? Grant was a master of a game that was new to her. She was susceptible to him, and he knew it.

She turned off the water and stepped on to the tiled floor. Being susceptible was one thing. Being a fool was quite another. Her mouth tightened as she wrapped herself in an oversized towel. How did that old saying go?

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

There wouldn’t be a third time.

He was waiting in the garden when she ‘came outside. She was wearing a lemon-yellow dress and matching high-heeled sandals; she’d brushed out her hair and she had a cool smile on her face.

The smile almost failed her when she saw him, standing tall and dark in a white dinner-jacket and frilled shirt, but then, there was no point pretending he wasn’t handsome.