Wife in Public (9 page)

Feeling sure that this issue was settled, Jordan switched
his mind to dealing with Olivia and her problem. She was pacing around the lounge in nervous agitation—thankfully without a glass in her hand—when he took in the coffee, advising her to sit down, sip it and compose herself.

He waited until she did so, quelling his own impatience to get on with it, knowing that calm, cool deliberation had to be brought to damage control. He seated himself on the armchair adjacent to the sofa where Olivia had flung herself and thought about how to counter a blackmail threat until his sister could not contain herself any longer.

Having taken one sip of coffee, she threw a look of angst at him and blurted out, ‘He’s got a video of me having sex with him and he’s going to post it on the Internet if I don’t pay up.’

‘Did you agree to the video or did he film it without your permission?’

Her gaze dropped. She plucked at her trousers. ‘I…uh…thought it was fun at the time. Something…intimate…to watch together.’

Jordan shook his head. How many girls and women fell into that trap, letting their boyfriends take naked shots of them, only to find the photographs were not kept private—were posted on the Internet or flashed around on mobile phones? It was rotten behaviour by the guys, but with today’s technology at everyone’s fingertips, the women should wise up to the risk of being put out there.

‘It’s happening all the time, Olivia,’ he said, exasperated by her foolishness. ‘Why not tell him to publish and be damned? There’s nothing shameful about having sex with your husband.’

‘But anyone can look at it,’ she cried, appalled at his
solution. ‘It’s humiliating, Jordan. I can’t bear the idea of lots of people having a peepshow of me.’

‘You’ve got a great body. You don’t mind showing it off. You won’t be the first heiress who’s had to weather baring all on the Internet,’ he said dismissively. And just maybe she’d be wiser next time around.

She grimaced and muttered, ‘It’s not just that.’

‘Then stop pussyfooting around and give me the real dirt, Olivia.’

She erupted from the sofa, throwing up her hands, flouncing around to avoid looking at him. ‘I was out of my mind. Ashton had a friend there, another gorgeous hunk. We were snorting cocaine, high as kites. Anyhow, it got to be a threesome.
That’s
what he’s got on the video.’

‘All of it? The cocaine, as well?’

‘Yes,’ she hissed at him, eyes blazing hatred at having to confess her own sins.

‘Are you in the habit of doing coke, Olivia?’

She stamped her foot at his inquisition. ‘Everybody does at parties. You know they do,’ she shouted at him.

He stared back at her in silent, burning reproof. Many did, but he didn’t and she knew it. Apart from alcohol in moderation he never touched recreational drugs and he didn’t want to see his sister take the downward spiral that so commonly ended in depression and disaster.

‘I didn’t do it much until Ashton started getting regular supplies,’ she said, trying to mitigate her usage.

Possibly it was true. It would obviously serve Ashton’s purpose to get Olivia hooked. ‘Okay,’ he said calmly. ‘I have the picture now. Sit down while I think about how to get you out of this mess.’

Relieved that she had finally loaded it off onto his
shoulders, she dropped onto the sofa and resumed sipping coffee while darting anxious little glances at him.

Jordan mentally plotted the moves that had to be made. Call his lawyer to enquire about all the legal angles. Call his security guy. Olivia would have to be wired and rehearsed into how to get Ashton’s blackmail threat on tape. Once he could be threatened with criminal prosecution, Jordan was fairly sure a reasonable settlement could be reached. Pretty-boy Ashton wouldn’t enjoy a spell in jail. Olivia had to get stone-cold sober and stay sober until the situation was resolved, and then agree to a month in a rehabilitation centre.

He took out his mobile phone and called his mother. Fortunately she was home and, having been apprised of the problem, agreed to look after Olivia and ensure she was sober for a management meeting tomorrow morning. That gave him the rest of today and tonight with Ivy before he had to act for his sister who certainly deserved to stew overnight for being so damned stupid and careless.

He then called Ray to get the Bentley out to drive Olivia to his mother’s Palm Beach residence. He would drive the Porsche there himself in the morning. Having dumped her problem in her brother’s hands and now sure he would
fix
it for her, Olivia meekly followed his orders.

Jordan silently determined she would follow a few more in the very near future, like getting her head together enough to make sensible decisions and not take mind-blurring drugs.

It was all so bloody nasty, he thought, as he saw Olivia off in the Bentley. At least taking care of it could wait until tomorrow. Ashton was not about to go
anywhere, not until he had milked the golden goose for all he could get.

And Ivy was waiting for him.

Ivy, who’d told him repeatedly she wouldn’t fit into his social world: the parties, the gossip, the competitive status thing with its bitchiness and back-biting, the high-flying celebrities who did dabble in cocaine or ecstacy or marijuana for their sensory hits. Part of his mind stood back from it all, like a spectator rather than a participant. But if he took Ivy into it…

No, she didn’t fit.

He didn’t want her to fit.

It was the difference in her that he found so be guiling.

Somehow he had to keep her out of it, yet keep her in his life.

And his bed.

Determined on making that happen, Jordan headed back into the house, the adrenaline surge of desire kicking in as he went to collect the woman he wanted.

I
VY
found Margaret surprisingly easy to be with. Aware that the housekeeper had to be curious about the decisions she’d come to in regard to a relationship with Jordan, she’d told her straight out that she owned the rose farm he used for gifts to his girlfriends and hadn’t thought the attraction was worth pursuing, given her inside knowledge of his track record with roses.

‘Good Heavens! And he kept sending them to your mother!’ had been her stunned reaction.

‘Yes, it was great for business, but I had to stop it.’

Margaret had burst into laughter, vastly amused by the piquancy of the situation, her eyes twinkling merrily as she’d commented, ‘So you’re giving him a chance.’

‘I do like him.’ Not to mention wanting him so intensely it was almost frightening, which the housekeeper probably realised anyway. Ivy couldn’t imagine any woman not wanting to experience Jordan Powell in bed. It was his world, not his bed that was the problem.

‘Yes, he’s very likeable,’ Margaret had replied with a fondly indulgent smile. ‘I wouldn’t work for him if he wasn’t.’

This recommendation of Jordan’s character from an employee’s point of view, added to the masterly way he had handled the scene with his sister, had assured Ivy
she wasn’t making too big a mistake in getting more involved with him, even if it proved to be a brief affair in the end. Besides, maybe his previous affairs had been littered with fortune-hunters and she wasn’t one. That might make some difference.

Margaret had produced a platter of nibbles, suggesting it might tide Ivy over until Jordan had finished with his sister and they could then have lunch together. The brie cheese and dates, little balls of fresh melon wrapped in prosciutto ham, marinated sun-dried tomatoes and olives were all very tempting and without any electric sexual tension knotting her stomach, Ivy suddenly found an appetite.

While picking at the platter, she’d asked Margaret what kind of tours she was interested in since the newspaper was open at the travel section. It turned out that the housekeeper had ‘done’ most of Europe, saving up all year for an annual trip overseas. The Americas were next on her list, specifically California and Mexico.

‘I’ve never travelled anywhere,’ Ivy had confessed. ‘Friends of mine were raving about a cruise down the Rhine, and I thought I might try that next year.’

‘Why not this year?’

Her heart instantly leapt at Jordan’s voice and started banging around her chest as he strode into the kitchen, his face animated with interest. Whatever had transpired with his sister was obviously not lingering in his mind. The blue eyes twinkled with happy speculation as he pursued his point.

‘I think they start running those cruises in May. It’s only March now. In two months’ time, we could be sailing down the Rhine together, Ivy. I’d love to share that part of Europe with you.’ He stopped at the island bench, picked a melon ball off the platter, popped it into
his mouth, raised his eyebrows at her stunned reaction to his enthusiastic suggestion as he ate the fruit, then asked, ‘Can you get away from the farm to do it with me?’

He helped himself to some cheese, slicing up a date to accompany it while Ivy tried to catch her breath. Her mind spun around his extraordinary offer. She could imagine a billionaire on a super-luxury cruise ship like the
Queen Elizabeth II,
or a magnificent chartered yacht, but… ‘Is it your kind of thing? I mean…travelling with ordinary tourists?’

‘I’ll enjoy whatever you enjoy, Ivy.’

Would he really? There was not a hint of doubt in his voice and Ivy could well believe he had schooled himself to be master of any situation. He would probably charm all the other passengers on the ship, make his presence a highlight of their cruise. As for herself, it would be great to have Jordan as her travelling companion, and so much time together would certainly sort out their differences, test how compatible they could be. Make-or-break time for their relationship, she thought.

However, there was one problem he was overlooking. The pipe dream of a marvellous trip together deflated as the reality of her world kicked in. Jordan was undoubtedly accustomed to travelling wherever he wanted whenever he wanted, but…

‘We can’t do it,’ she said with a rueful shake of her head. ‘Not this May. You have to book about a year ahead to get on these cruises.’

Determined purpose flashed in his eyes. ‘There are always cancellations. Leave it with me and I’ll see if I can find us a berth on one.’

He was intent on going and taking her with him. So intent, Ivy suspected he would
buy
a cancellation. It
made her feel uncomfortable about it. Why did it matter so much to him? Was he so used to getting his own way nothing was going to stop him? How ruthless was he in wielding his wealth to get what he wanted?

So many questions…and he kept munching away on the hors d’oeuvres as though everything was already settled, his eyes teasing her with the confidence of solving any problem she might still raise. She had succumbed to the power of the man without knowing nearly enough about him, yet the lure of knowing more of him was too strong for her to back off now.

‘Okay,’ she said slowly. ‘I can arrange time off from the farm, but if you do manage to get us on a cruise, Jordan, I insist on paying for my own plane ticket there and back and my share of the tour package.’

No way would she let him think he was
buying
her. Besides, she needed to be independent of him, in case she ended up disliking how it was between them and want ed to walk away.

He grinned, triumphant delight dancing in his eyes. ‘Whatever you say, Ivy. I just want us to have this time away together.’

She did, too. It provided a relatively quick proving ground. Not like two years with Ben before finding out he would let her down when she most needed him to be there for her.

‘Had enough to eat?’ Jordan asked, and her stomach instantly clenched.

No more food.

He wanted sex with her.

‘What have you done with your sister?’ she asked, sure that he would have already ensured no further interruptions, but curious about the outcome of that meeting.

He grinned and held out his hand to help her off the kitchen stool. ‘Sent her home to Mother. Come on. I’ll show you the rest of the house. Do you want Margaret to prepare lunch or shall we have an early dinner?’

She took his hand, acutely aware of it enfolding hers as she slid off the stool, wanting to feel him touching her all over, remembering how it had been and eager to experience it again. ‘I’ve had enough to eat for now,’ she said, flicking a quick grateful glance at the housekeeper. ‘Thank you, Margaret.’

‘An early dinner then,’ Jordan swiftly instructed.

‘Give me a call when you want it,’ Margaret drily replied.

Of course she knew what they were about to do, Ivy thought. It was probably a very common scenario with Jordan and she couldn’t help wishing it wasn’t so. Needing to block out his past and concentrate entirely on the present, her mind snatched at the distraction of his sister and her problems.

‘Have you passed the blackmail business over to your mother, too?’ she asked as they walked back into the foyer.

‘No. I’ll deal with it tomorrow when Olivia is sober.’ He shot her an apologetic grimace. ‘Which means cutting our weekend together short. I’ll have to go to Palm Beach in the morning for a family meeting.’

‘I hope you can sort something out,’ she said sympathetically, thinking it would be horrible to be blackmailed by one’s own husband, a man whom Olivia had obviously trusted, however unwisely.

‘Don’t be concerned about it, Ivy. It will be sorted, one way or another,’ he said dismissively. ‘In fact, it should be a good lesson for my sister. I intend to make it
one, that’s for sure,’ he added in a tone of determination that would brook no nonsense.

He led her straight to the staircase, no detouring to ‘show her the house.’ That would come later, after…

Her pulse drummed a faster beat as they mounted the stairs.

‘Olivia won’t speak to you like that again, either,’ he tagged on.

She sighed, relieving the tightness in her chest before slanting an ironic little smile at him. ‘I guess all your social set will think the same things about me, Jordan.’

He squeezed her hand hard. ‘What
they
think isn’t important. Only what
we
have together matters.’

The intensity in his voice sent a quiver of excitement down her spine. She wanted what they could have together, wanted it as much as he did. They reached his bedroom and
nothing
else mattered. They were both insanely lustful, kissing as though there was no tomorrow, removing clothes in urgent haste, falling on the bed in a tangle of legs and arms, reaching for each other, gripping, clinging, caressing with fierce possessiveness, passion pumping through their bodies, fuelling the need to take, to give.

Jordan muttered a curse as he remembered protection, tearing himself away long enough to grab it from a drawer in a bedside table and sheath himself. A weird stab of sadness went through Ivy’s heart. No baby with Jordan. That would never happen. It wasn’t what this relationship was about. But she had accepted that, hadn’t she? And she accepted him now with an intense shaft of pleasure as he came back to her and thrust deeply, driving to the edge of her pulsing womb.

Wild excitement coursed through her with each re
peat ed plunge, the rhythm of it rolling through her in euphoric waves, cresting in marvellous peaks, finally carrying her to an explosion of utter ecstasy and a flood of sweetly lulling peace.
Yes,
she thought blissfully. It was worth any hurt later to have this with Jordan now.

She lay with her head resting over the strong beat of his heart, smiling as she listened to its pace gradually lessen to a quiet, steady thump.
Peace for him, too, after the long waiting,
she thought, and was glad she had surrendered to his patient pursuit. His hands start ed gliding over the curves of her back and her skin tingled with pleasure. He picked up her plait, removed the rubber band that kept it fastened, and slowly unwound the skeins of her hair, fluffing it out with his fingers when it was freed of its constriction.

‘With your hair and skin, you could have posed for Botticelli’s
Birth of Venus,
’ he murmured. ‘It’s a wonderful painting, displayed in the Uffizi Gallery in Florence. We could go on to Italy after the cruise and…’

‘I don’t think so,’ Ivy stirred enough to protest. ‘We’ll be away for a month as it is.’ She lifted her head to give him a teasing look. ‘And you haven’t even shown me all the paintings in this house yet.’

He laughed, raking her hair out on either side of her face. ‘You outshine them all, but when I summon up the energy and the inclination I’ll give you a tour.’

‘Mmmh…I’m not in any hurry.’

‘Good, because I don’t want to hurry anything this time.’

He kept every kiss and caress deliciously sensual. They moved around each other in a long, languorous dance of gliding, nestling, touching, feeling—a glorious sexual wallowing that simmered with excitement without blazing into imperative need.

He spoke seductively of the fantastic sights they would see and the pleasures they would share in Europe: the amazing array of statues in Prague, the magnificent Schonbrunn Palace in Vienna—‘I’ll dance you around the gold ballroom’—the vineyards climbing the hills in the Wachau Valley—‘We’ll go wine-tasting’—the amazing amount of castles along the Rhine, the totally eye-popping quantity of gold decorating the cathedral at the Melk monastery.

‘You’ve seen it all before,’ Ivy commented ruefully at one point.

‘Not since I was in my teens. My parents took Olivia and me on a world tour as part of our education.’

Not with another woman then,
Ivy thought with a rush of relief. It was ridiculous wanting something exclusive to herself, knowing how very experienced he was, yet she instantly felt happier in her anticipation of their travels together.

‘Besides, I’ll enjoy it so much more being with you,’ he said, smiling into her eyes, making her heart melt with longing for that to be true.

‘Talking of paintings, why did you choose to hang Sydney Nolan’s Ned Kelly images in this bedroom?’ she asked, wanting to understand more of the man. ‘Do you feel some affinity with our famous bushranger or do they simply complement the decor with him wearing his black armour?’

He sidestepped the question, asking, ‘Do you like them?’

‘They’re great, but I thought you’d be more into nudes in here.’

He grinned. ‘I don’t need that kind of stimulation.’

She laughed, well aware that he had no problem
with impotence. ‘You still haven’t told me why Ned Kelly?’

His eyes were hooded as his fingertips feathered her lips. ‘He reminds me always to be armoured. Especially in the bedroom. Only you have ever made me forget that, Ivy.’

He kissed her, as though wanting to draw that power from her soul, be the man who never lost control again. The simmering excitement instantly escalated, compelling them into another climactic union. It wasn’t until long afterwards that Ivy thought about what he’d said about always being armoured.

A billionaire’s son, a billionaire in his own right—a target for people who wanted a piece of him for their own ends, in the bedroom and out of it. She imagined very few people would ever fool him in business, but there was a natural vulnerability with intimacy, a wish to trust. Jordan had seen his sister be a victim of it three times because of her wealth.

Was it any wonder that he’d chosen a playboy lifestyle?

Essentially a lonely life,
Ivy thought,
always armoured.

And she was lonely, too.

She enjoyed his company on the tour of his house, enjoyed his company over the delicious dinner Margaret served them, enjoyed the seductively sensual skinny-dipping in the solar-heated pool later in the evening and revelled in the lovemaking that followed. She didn’t feel lonely with him and she hoped he didn’t feel lonely with her.