A Pretend Engagement (8 page)

Varnie made it to the house and made it to the kitchen. He did not follow. She hastily poured him a cup of coffee and, cowardly or not, made quickly for her room. She knew he was mad, furious, and hoped it was all on account of Neville King daring to come to his sanctuary-daring to seek him out. Suddenly feeling far from cold, but feeling hot, hot, hot all over, she peeled off the heavy sweater she had donned for gardening and, tee shirt-and-trousers-clad, raked distracted fingers through her hair. It was a foregone conclusion that she hadn't heard the last of this little episode, but perhaps if she did not see Leon again for a few hours it would give him time to cool down a little.

Varnie had just straightened her tee shirt when, to her horror, she heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Oh, heavens-he had not even waited to drink his coffee! She stood stock still, listening. Perhaps those footsteps would go on past her door.

They did not. They halted, right outside her door. She watched in fascinated dismay as the door handle turned. She swallowed, hard. Retribution was at hand.

Let him try. She might have skulked up here in the hope of his anger cooling down somewhat, but he would have hit that man, she knew he would, and Neville King had suffered enough. Now that it seemed it was her turn she did not intend to stand there and meekly take it.

Though she had to admit to feeling very much on shaky ground when the door opened and, without so much as a by your leave, Leon Beaumont came in. He was hostile, she could see that he was. It was there in the lines of his body and in the straight look in his eyes.

`Don't you ever knock?' she got in sharply first.

`What? At my fianc�e's door?' As she had suspected, he had not taken that well. Perhaps if she explained why she had done it, why she had said what she had... Fat chance! `I presumed, since you were no stranger to my bedroom, that the same applied in reverse.' He was coming closer and, not giving her the option to explain anything, was informing her heavily, `I am not the marrying kind.'

`Well, of course. I '

`Were I ever to lose my mind so completely as to even think about taking such a drastic course, then trust me, Miss Sutton, you would be the last bride I would choose.'

`As if I'd have you!' she retorted indignantly, then remembered that she was the one in the wrong here, and backed down a trifle. `Look, there's no need to get personal. I only did what I did because-'

`You don't think to claim yourself as the future Mrs. Leon Beaumont might not be a touch personal?' he questioned toughly. He came nearer. Varnie did not like it. She retreated a few steps.

`You were going to hit him,' she said in a hurry.

`What the devil has that got to do with you?' he asked arrogantly.

`He looks beaten already. It's there in his eyes. He doesn't need physical violence as well.'

`You don't know what you're talking about!' Leon snarled shortly.

`I know you would have hit him. He would have hit you,' she answered, stubbornly refusing to back down.

`I doubt it!' he rapped.

Varnie considered he had a point there. Should Leon have landed him one, Neville King would in all probability have been too flattened to have the energy to hit back. `That's not fair!' she erupted. `What isn't?"

'It's too one-sided.'

`One-sided, hell!' Leon gritted. `I've been put in a position here that I very much detest. I have tried to handle Neville King's paranoid jealousy tactfully. Tried to make him see that I have no interest in his wife whatsoever-God knows what far- fetched stories she spins him! I've been hassled by her, badgered by him-is it any wonder that I ran out of patience last week?'

`You knocked him down.'

'I'd had enough. And, for the record, he took a swing at me first.'

`Oh,' she mumbled. The press photographer hadn't caught that one. `Well,' she defended, 'Neville King is only trying to save his marriage.'

`He hasn't got a marriage.'

`He hasn't?"

'You need to open your eyes too. His marriage is over-only he can't see it.'

`Over?' she echoed. `Through you?'

Leon threw her an impatient look. `Not through me! If it hadn't been me his wife set her sights on it would have been some other unsuspecting unfortunate.'

Varnie stared at him. He came closer yet. Close enough for her to see in his eyes that he hadn't yet started on sorting her out for what she had done. She moved to one side, nearer to the window. Leon halted, his grey eyes taking in her wary form.

Varnie knew then that she had to attack ! `Well, Antonia King isn't the only married woman you've-you've-er-had a liaison with,' was the best she could come up with.

Leon eyed her steadily for some moments. `So you reckoned that by telling her that you and I were-what was it?-live-in lovers, that I was madly in love with you, that-'

`You know why I said that,' Varnie interrupted quickly, backing away again as he took a couple of steps that brought him nearer still.

`For the same reason you've just told her husband that you and I are engaged, no doubt,' he grated.

Oh, mother, he was much too close. Short of bolting from her room-and pride would not allow that-she was running out of space to back into. `No!' Pride kicked in right there and then to demand that she stood her ground. `You know why I told Antonia King what I did!'

`Remind me. That was because...?' He came a step forward.

Her pride stayed high. She reckoned she had retreated enough. `If you remember, I was doing you a favour.'

`Favour!' he scoffed, and was right up to her, looking down into her suddenly defiant wide sea-green eyes.

`Yes, favour!' she exploded. `You wanted her out of your hair I settled it by telling her that you and I were...' she started to falter '-well, you know.' `And for the same reason-to get her husband out of my hair-you told him we were engaged?"

'No. Not that. He was hurting. Is hurting. He needed reassuring that you and his wife aren't er-carrying on behind his back. That's why he drove all this way down here today. Because he wanted, needed, confirmation that what his wife told him last night was true.'

`What a sensitive soul you are,' Leon Beaumont jeered.

Varnie recalled the pain she had witnessed in Neville King's eyes. `It's only natural to feel sensitive, sympathetic to-'She began to defend herself-but was abruptly cut off for her trouble.

`And what about my sensitivities?' Leon demanded, his chin jutting aggressively.

`Wh...? How do you mean?'

`You know damn well how I feel about women. You know because I told you. Your first day here I told you.'

`I know, I know. There's no need to go on about it,' she bridled.

`Yet you deliberately set yourself up as my bed companion!'

`You know why!' She could feel herself going red.

`You deliberately invented emotions I'm supposed to have for you that are pure and utter fantasy.'

That stung. Quite clearly stalactites would become stalagmites before he even got to like her, let alone love her. `You'll note I didn't lie about my feelings for you!' she erupted. `At no stage did I invent that I was head over heels in love with you.' There was no need for him to know she had told Antonia King that they cared deeply for each other. `My imagination just isn't that good!'

`Then you'll just have to pretend that it is!' he retorted angrily, his hands coming to her upper arms and holding her there.

She wasn't running. While admitting that she wasn't too happy that they were standing so close, almost toe to toe, she did not care too much either that until he took those firms hands from her she would not be able to run anywhere anyway-but she wasn't panicking. In all fairness perhaps she had rather overdone it by saying they were engaged.

`I suppose an apology isn't going to wash?' she offered.

`Too true it isn't,' he rapped. 'Antonia King has had since Tuesday to consider whether or not she wants my office, my directors, her fellow executives to know that I'm tucked away in a little Welsh love-nest. The fact that last night she told her husband about it indicates she has told everyone else.'

`Oh, surely not!' Varnie gasped, appalled. `I didn't think of that wh-'

`Then you should have. As, too, you should have thought of the consequences before you blabbed to her husband that you and I are engaged. That snippet, if I'm not mistaken,' he said heavily, in the tone of a man who knew very well that he was not mistaken, `will be all over the top floor come Monday.'

`No!' she gasped, and, swiftly, `You can deny it. Nobody will take her word against yours.'

`If I was going to deny it I would have denied it the minute that ridiculous notion came out from your mouth,' he clipped.

`Why didn't you, then?' she rallied.

`For one, I couldn't believe my hearing! You, Varnie Sutton, have the cheek, the nerve, of old Nick. But, since I haven't denied I've popped the question that would see me tied to one woman for life-' he smiled a grim kind of humourless smile `-I don't see why I shouldn't take up the advantages you have just afforded me.'

Varnie stared at him, puzzled. `I'm missing something here,' she had to admit. `Just what are you saying?' she queried-and very nearly dropped when he told her.

`You have claimed we're lovers.' He shrugged. `But for the life of me I cannot recall ever having had that-' he broke off to survey her figure `-pleasure. I suppose you could be thought quite fetching in that skimpy tee shirt...'

Varnie looked down to where her white tee shirt was clinging to her breasts-and alarm bells began to belatedly clamour. She gave a jerky tug to pull away from him. He held firmly on to her. He looked into her eyes, and seemed to enjoy the dawning look of alarm to be seen in them.

`I think I might as well have a sample now,' he commented, and began to draw her relentlessly up to him.

`No!' Varnie whispered, part of her still refusing to believe what was happening.

`Oh, but yes,' Leon mocked, his hold travelling to her shoulders.

She started to panic, started to feel desperate. `I told you I was off men,' she hurriedly reminded him.

`It didn't do me much good telling you I was off women, did it`?' he challenged, and instructed harshly, `Get your mouth ready to receive, sweetheart.'

`You don't mean...' She found a stray strand of courage. `Don't be ridiculous!' she ordered. `Ooh... !' she exclaimed, and, as he hauled her into his arms and his mouth came over hers, she was unable to exclaim anything else.

His lips were warm against hers, and for a stunned moment she did not react at all. Then her body stiffened, unresponsive in his hold for a second, but a moment after that and she was pushing at him with all her strength.

`Don't!' she yelled at him when his lips left hers. `Don't do this!' she ordered furiously.

`But why?' he mocked. `You've claimed we're lovers. I should hate to think you're a liar.'

`Damn you... !' was as far as she got before his mouth once more claimed hers.

He pulled her close up against him, his mouth lingering over hers, stunning her with shock when she felt his hands on her back, on her bare skin under her tee shirt as he caressed and kissed her.

Again she jerked her head away. `Don't!' she cried.

`Why not? I like the feel of your lovely silken skin.'

`You mustn't...' she tried, rather desperately.

`Oh, I think I must,' he drawled. `How well I remember your nakedness, your beautiful body.' Oh, heavens! Her face burned at the memory of strolling into his bedroom that day with not a stitch on-all too obviously he had never forgotten it either. `Surely, after all we have been together, you wouldn't deny me the right to touch that which I have only so far seen but not touched?'

She stared at him, her sea-green eyes huge in her face. `No,' she whispered.

He smiled a smile she had no belief in. `Darling,' he murmured, with about as much sincerity in that word as when she had used it on him, and his head came down once more.

Varnie wrenched her mouth away from his. She did not want him to kiss her, and wriggled wildly as she tried to break his grip. For the briefest of moments she thought she had twisted free, but she had only managed to twist round in his hold, and when she went to fly from the room it was to discover that she was going nowhere. Leon had caught her-her back was to him. And she knew when he held her there that he had not the smallest intention of letting her go.

`Where do you think you're running off to?' he taunted against her ear. `We haven't finished yet.' He held her firmly against him and she felt the hardness of his body against her and she almost died when he placed his lips caressingly against the back of her neck, and breathed softly in her ear, " In fact, sweetheart, we've barely started.' And then he stunned her into utter silence by moving his hands round to the front of her and unerringly cupping her breasts in his hands.

She gasped out loud. She had not even known he had undone her bra, but he had, effortlessly, and she felt the warmth of his palms moulding her full breasts, could feel his fingers as they teased at the hardened peaks.

She started to tremble and doubled over in an agitated bid to dislodge his hold. `Don't!' she begged. `Oh, please don't!' she cried, only to have her pleas ignored. He seemed to enjoy the feel of her breasts-she tried to get angry. `Don't!' she yelled.

`That's better. I should hate you to be passive,' he jibed, and very near terrified her when, because she was small waisted and the waistband of her trousers gaped a little, he was able to transfer one of his hands inside the band of her trousers. He seemed to like the feel of her belly because, while she was still gasping at this new turn of events, both his hands were all at once inside her trousers, exploring.

She called out in alarm as his too intimate touch caressed her warm belly. `No!' she screamed, as his hands searched lower. `No!' she implored again, in true alarm, and started not to merely tremble but to shake, the whole of her body visibly shuddering.

She knew the instant that her shaking had communicated itself to him, because Leon stilled in his intimate searching-and the next moment he had wrenched his hand from the inside of her trousers and, gripping her arms, had turned her to face him. There was no mockery in his expression as his eyes raked her face, as if to judge if she were play-acting.