Pregnancy of Revenge

The heat in her stomach turned into a cold knot of hu­miliation as it slowly dawned on her she had overstayed her welcome and he was trying to give her a polite brush-off. Rising to her feet, she avoided looking at him. 'I'll just be a minute. I need my shoes and bag from the bedroom, then I'll leave you in peace.'

As she attempted to walk past him Jake closed a strong brown hand around her wrist and prevented her from mov­ing away. He saw the hurt she could not hide in her ex­pressive eyes and he knew exactly what she was thinking.

'Peace is not something I will ever associate with you, cara,' he said with a rueful shake of his dark head. Wanting her was a weakness. He had every reason to dislike her, but she turned him on like no other woman he had ever known, and he'd wanted her from the minute he had set eyes on her. He still wanted her and only a fool turned down what she was offering. He was no fool, though he had been acting like one for the past half-hour, torn between conscience and chemistry. Chemistry won as Jake curved her own wrist around her back and drew her close to him again. 'Your effect on me is quite the opposite, and I like the way you make me feel.'

'You really do?' Charlie queried uncertainly, a tide of red sweeping up over her pale face as her body responded with quivering eagerness to the powerful strength of his embrace. She was hopelessly confused. She couldn't understand why he blew hot and cold. She couldn't understand men, full stop! she thought helplessly.

With a husky chuckle Jake bent his dark head, if you need me to confirm it after the past few hours, then I ob­viously have not fulfilled your expectations.' And he took her shocked open mouth with his in a display of erotic ex­pertise that left her in no doubt of his desire for her

'This is madness ' Jake groaned a moment later, lifting his head to look down at her with stormy black eyes. 'But you are a fire in my blood and I can't resist you.'

Charlie should have been flattered by his comment, but there was something suspiciously like resentment in his dark gaze that sounded warning bells in her head. He was a gor­geous virile male, streets ahead of her in experience and sophistication, and yet he said it was madness. Perhaps it was! She had fallen headlong in love with him but what did she really know about him? Other than that he was a fabulous lover and they had come together with what some, herself included, would say was unseemly haste, since meet­ing two days ago!

'Maybe I should leave," she said stiffly, it's late.'

After he had admitted he was burning for her, not a con­fession he usually made, Jake was disconcerted by her sud­den about-face. Dark colour flared over his high cheek­bones, and he drew in a ragged breath and relaxed his hold on her. Having spent years calling the shots with the women in his life, he found it a salutary experience to have Charlotte do the same to him. His heavy-lidded eyes half closed as he stepped back and glanced at his wrist-watch. 'You're right, it's after one—there's no point waiting for a cab. I'll drive you home.'

Charlie thought she had offended him, so the relief she felt was immense when he drew up outside the apartment block with a squeal of brakes and turned to her. 'Thank you for a wonderful day, Charlotte, and an even better evening. Give me your number and I will call you tomorrow. Something so good should not be ignored.' He grinned.

Quickly she withdrew a business card and pen from her purse, and wrote Dave's number on the back. She also took out her door key.

'Home and here,' she murmured as Jake took the card from her fingers, and slid out of the car to walk around the bonnet and open the passenger door.

'Come on, Charlotte.' He held out his hand and, relieved, she took it and walked up the steps to the entrance foyer.

She swiped the card through the slot, and the glass doors slid open. "Good evening, Miss Summerville,' the security guard on the reception desk called out. Charlie returned the greeting, and then glanced back at Jake, reluctant to part from him but not sure how to proceed. Stupid, she knew, when not long ago she had been in bed with the man but she couldn't help it. Before Jake she had imagined love to be some perfect life-enhancing dream: the insecurity she now felt had not been part of it.

Sensing her dilemma, Jake cupped her face in his hands, and brushed his lips to hers. 'Goodnight.' He felt her trem­ble and smiled. 'I'll call.' And he left.

His smile and gentle kiss lingered on her lips like a ben­ediction and when she reached her apartment she fell into bed and slept like the proverbial log.

Charlie yawned and stretched, then groaned. She ached in places she never knew she had. Jake. She murmured his name, and images of the previous day ran tike a video re­cording through her mind. A deep, shuddering sigh escaped her and even the line cotton cover felt too warm on her overheated flesh.

She glanced at the bedside clock, and looked again. Ten o'clock! She had overslept big time Jake might have al­ready called, and, leaping off the bed, she dashed into the shower. She dressed with feverish haste in her favourite blue jeans and a white cotton shirt, and swept her hair up in a pony-tail. She looked at herself in the mirror as she rubbed a light moisturiser into her face and paused, noting the spar­kle in her eyes, the flush of excitement along her delicate cheekbones, and marvelled at the difference having a man in her life had made. Her total transformation from a brisk, efficient young woman to the hungry, sensuous creature that smiled back at her took some getting used to. Still smiling, she walked into the tiny kitchen and pressed the call retrieve button on the wall-mounted telephone. Her smile faded as the automated voice informed her, 'No messages.'

She switched on the coffee percolator and consoled her­self with the fact Jake had said he was going to work. Then she discovered she had no milk. She disliked black coffee, but she managed to drink one cup, and ate an apple, the only food in the place. She really should do some shopping, but she was too afraid to leave the apartment in case she missed Jake's call.

She washed her cup before strolling back into the living area. It took her all of ten minutes to tidy it up, then, as­cending the stairs to the galleried sleeping area, she made the bed. For the next two hours she paced the apartment, one minute elated, sure he would call, and the next moment in despair, convinced he wouldn't.

Finally by midday she realised she was behaving like a besotted idiot. She needed milk, and, grabbing her bag and keys, she took the lift to the ground floor. The doorman told her where the nearest convenience store was and she stepped out into the spring sunshine, telling herself if Jake did call he would probably leave his number and she could call him back, no problem.

The store was a lot further than the doorman had made it sound, and it was an hour later when Charlie, a carrier bag in one hand, her head bent in gloom, trudged back into her apartment building.

'Buon giorno, cara. ‘The deep, melodious voice was mu­sic to her ears, and her head shot up. 'I see the wanderer has returned."

Jake was waiting in the foyer. He strolled towards her and stared down at her from his great height, a slow smile curving across his handsome face. 'Charlotte.'

As he said her name Charlie's heart beat a frenzied tattoo in her chest and she blushed, as the memory of last night seemed all too real. He was here, inches away from her; she could reach out and touch him.

'Let me help you with that.' He took the carrier from her hand, and smiled wryly when he saw the expression on her face. His dark head bent and he brushed his lips lightly against her cheek. 'I called to see if you would like to have lunch with me.' His deep accented drawl and the promise in the dark eyes that met hers made her ache for so much more.

'Jake. You're here.' She finally found her voice. 'I thought you were going to ring.'

He straightened up, and the eyes that held hers were sud­denly dark and unfathomable. 'I hope I have not called at an inconvenient moment, interrupted anything.'

'No, not at all,' she hastened to reassure him, her eyes sliding lovingly over him, taking in the casual cream trou­sers and the open-necked, slightly darker polo shirt that re­vealed the perfect musculature of his chest. She swallowed hard and said, 'Come on up. I only have to put the milk in the fridge and then I'm yours.'

'You're sure about that?' Jake demanded, if you're in­volved with someone else, say so now, Charlotte.'