Desire For Revenge Part 17

"No private bathrooms as yet, I'm afraid," he continued, going back to her bedroom door, 'the only one in use is there. " He pointed to a door across the corridor.

"And in case you're wondering it has a lock on the door. Is your case still in the car?"

"Yes."

"I'll go and bring it up for you. Luckily my study has been finished.

So I suggest we get to work down there early tomorrow morning . say ten-ish? "

Sarah nodded her head, studying her new surroundings as he went back downstairs for her case.

The room was a pleasant size and had the potential to look extremely attractive. She was dreamily mentally re-furbis.h.i.+ng it when Joss came back.

He dropped her case on her bed and then walked over to the door, pausing briefly to drawl, "Sweet dreams, Sarah," and then he walked through it and closed it after him.

Since she had heard him walk back downstairs, Sarah judged that it was quite safe for her to use the bathroom. She had no wish to be caught at the disadvantage of das.h.i.+ng across the landing by Joss when she was only wearing her nightdress.

The bathroom was as old-fas.h.i.+oned as her bedroom, but thankfully there was plenty of hot water. She showered as quickly as she could, removing her make-up and brus.h.i.+ng her teeth, before gathering up her discarded clothes. It was a nuisance that she had no dressing gown.

She didn't need one at the flat, and it hadn't struck her that she would not have the privacy of her own bathroom. Mentally shrugging, she unlocked the door. Her nightdress was made of soft cotton, and was surely modest enough for her not to need to feel so concerned that Joss might glimpse her in it . after all, he had already seen what lay beneath it. And not just seen, she reminded herself, caught off guard by the slow burn of heat flooding over her body.

Despite her physical tiredness it took her a long time to get to sleep.

Her searingly painful jealousy on seeing Helene with Joss was something she was going to have to come to terms with and accept.

Frowning slightly, Sarah acknowledged to herself that it really would be much safer from her point of view if she could find another job. but she had already sworn to herself that she would not allow Joss to browbeat her into leaving Leichner & Holland, and besides, she could not afford to. But every second she spent in his company only added to the trauma and pain she would have to face, when eventually he was no longer there. How could she bear to work with him, when she knew there were other women in his life, when she ached to touch him the way she had done tonight. She would have to find a way, Sarah told herself resolutely . and who knew, perhaps in doing so she might also find a way to destroy her love for him as well. He was not the embodiment of all her secret inward yearnings as he had seemed that first night. he was a man who could be cruel, as he had been tonight. She should be feeling glad that she had had this glimpse of the man he really was, but instead, all she could feel was pain.

She woke up early, so early that a fine spring mist still clothed the fields in the distance. Seven o'clock . far too early to start work and she had never felt less like sleep. On impulse she got out of bed and made for the bathroom. Ten minutes later she was pulling on jeans and a T-s.h.i.+rt, and on her way downstairs, her hair secured in its plait, her face free of makeup.

After a certain amount of trial and error she found the kitchen, taking in Joss's study on the way. His study was really a small library, with some beautiful mahogany shelves running along one wall. The whole room had a decidedly pleasant masculine ambience from the richly coloured Persian rug on the floor to the heavy partners' desk with its leather chairs.

It would be very pleasant to work in an atmosphere such as this.

especially on a cold winter's afternoon, Sarah thought, noting the large marble fireplace. If she closed her eyes, she could almost smell the scent of apple logs. Sighing faintly, she went in search of the kitchen, gazing appreciatively around its s.p.a.ciousness. Plainly no expense had been spared in its remodelling, and Sarah guessed that it had once been several smaller rooms. She liked the solid oaken units and the tiled work tops and the ceramic tiles on the floor.

She was longing for a cup of coffee and she opened a few cupboard doors experimentally, discovering a was.h.i.+ng machine hidden away behind one set and a fridge-freezer behind another. Eventually she managed to locate a filter coffee maker, and some coffee, although from what she could see. Joss had not yet got round to stocking up his cupboards.

He obviously hadn't expected to move into the house as yet, she reflected, remembering what Steven had told her. While she waited for the coffee she looked for some bread to make toast with, but could find none.

By the time she had poured and drunk her coffee it was gone eight o'clock, and she was still hungry, Sarah thought wryly. She opened the fridge door and investigated its contents, frowning over their paucity.

How did Joss envisage they were going to live over the next few days?

She remembered that the local village shop opened early on Sat.u.r.days, and on impulse decided she might as well use her time advantageously, rather than simply waiting for Joss to come downstairs.

The woman behind the counter recognised her and looked slightly surprised to see her.

"I thought your sister was away," she commented, when Sarah gave her her order.

"She is." It was plain that the woman was curious, but Sarah did not explain, simply smiling her thanks as she packed away her groceries.

The shop did not sell bread, but by the time Sarah had left the village store, the small, family run bakery had opened.

The delicious smell wafting through the open door was far too tempting to resist. Sarah went in and emerged several minutes later carefully carrying a bag containing freshly made croissants, and another with still-warm whole meal bread.

She had no idea what, if any, plans Joss had made for their meals, but at least she would not starve, she decided cheerfully as she started up the Metro.

A little to her surprise there was still no sign of Joss when she returned.

It was gone nine o'clock now and she still had not had her breakfast, and according to Joss they were starting work at ten. Shrugging mentally and telling herself that it was no part of her dudes to act as Joss's unpaid housekeeper, Sarah set about making fresh coffee, and then her conscience smote her. It wouldn't kill her to go upstairs and ask him if he wanted a drink. She had turned the oven on to warm her croissants, and the smell filling the kitchen was making her practically dizzy with hunger.

Sighing faintly, she hurried upstairs, stopping abruptly when she realised she did not even know which was Joss's room. As she hesitated she heard the bathroom door open and she turned round, her eyes widening slightly as she took in the powerful breadth of Joss's shoulders; the tiny droplets of water that still clung to the smooth suppleness of his skin. Helplessly her glance skittered over his body, naked apart from the towel wrapped round his hips. A great wave of intense longing hit her, obliterating everything else, including the reason she had come upstairs in the first place.

"That's no way to look at a defenceless man, Sarah."

The mocking words filtered past the shock of seeing him and remembering. The hand she had automatically lifted to touch his skin fell to her side, her face white with shock. It was impossible for her to speak; her throat seemed to have closed up completely, the weakness was.h.i.+ng over her, frightening in its intensity.

"Breakfast..." she managed to say weakly eventually.

"I...1 didn't know if you were awake ... if you wanted any breakfast..."

"Breakfast..." He laughed softly.

"And what were you proposing to give me, sweet Sarah? The bewitching nectar of your mouth? The honey sweetness of your skin?"

At his words a deep, flooding tide of aching desire spread through her body. He was making love to her as surely and as effectively as if he were touching her, Sarah thought despairingly, and she was powerless to stop her body's response to him.

"You want me, Sarah..." The arrogant certainty in his voice brought her back to sanity and reality, desire changing to bitter anger as she looked at him and saw the mockery in his eyes. Suddenly she wanted to hurt him as badly as he was hurting her. Her anger was so intense that it blotted out everything else, she moved instinctively, reacting to the pain tearing at her, only realising what she had done in the thick silence that followed the sound of her palm against his skin. In sick dismay she looked at the spreading imprint of her hand, her eyes cloudy and dazed, unable to accept that she had actually hit him. Suddenly, the dangerous elemental quality of the silence enshrouding them struck her and she took a step backwards, but Joss moved faster, imprisoning her wrists with cruelly hard fingers, no trace of amus.e.m.e.nt or mockery in his eyes now. They were as dark and unreadable as the deepest ocean and she s.h.i.+vered beneath their cold bleakness.

"Don't take your frustration out on me, Sarah," he told her grimly, shocking her with the brutality of his judgment.

"At least not in that way... What's the matter?" he goaded softly, watching her with eyes as merciless as those of a falcon guarding its prey.

"Too shy to ask for what you really want?"

This couldn't be happening, Sarah thought despairingly. Why, oh why, had she come upstairs? Why hadn't she stayed in the kitchen where at least she had been safe? She gave a small moan, a release of pain both physical and mental, closing her eyes as she tried to blot out the sight of Joss's bitterly derisive face.

"Don't do that, you little fake." He muttered the words against her ear, causing s.h.i.+vers of fear to spread through her.

"We both know this haunted pallor and mock martyr air are false. No woman hits a man unless she either wants him to hit her back or kiss her... Now which was it, Sarah? Are you going to allow me to make my own choice?"

She struggled then, tugging desperately to be free, hating him for what he was doing to her and hating herself as well, for her inability to forget what it had been like to be held in his arms as a lover.

It was pointless to struggle. He dragged her against his body, freeing her momentarily to secure her there with the arm he closed round her waist, holding her so tightly against him that it was too dangerous to struggle. His free hand imprisoned the back of her neck, his mouth descending to hers with punis.h.i.+ng fierceness.

His grip on her was so tight that she could feel his heartbeat thudding into her body; the heat coming off his naked torso; the male strength of him compared with her own vulnerability. And she could also feel the potent force of his desire. It made her go weak with tormenting memories, her mouth opening beneath his, reality fading.

Humiliatingly it was Joss who dragged his mouth from hers, lifting his head and breathing hard as he muttered savagely, "Oh, my G.o.d...

that..."

His harsh voice was all it took to remind her of the truth. His grip had slackened sufficiently for her to pull away from him, which she did, her body trembling as she forced herself to say huskily: