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Not that she would ever have been tempted to try to appeal to this particular specimen of it, she decided, abruptly changing her mind about her admirer’s potential as she observed the smug satisfaction in his eyes—and the lack of humour or intelligence. She might not want to form any kind of permanent or emotional bond with a lover but she enjoyed the spine-tingling ritual of foreplay as much as any other woman, especially when it was spiced with intelligent conversation and laughter.
As she broke eye contact with him with a coolly dismissive look that told him he was wasting his time, she realised that she could still hear the whiny voice of the child behind her and her mother’s reproach as she demanded, ‘Oh, Ginny, why did you say you wanted the. bathroom if you don’t? Your father... Oh...’
Star frowned as the woman’s tone of voice changed, all its former irritation and lethargy replaced by an almost breathless note of sexual excitement and warmth as she exclaimed, ‘Oh, Kyle! Where did you come from? I didn’t see you. Clay is—’
‘I know where Clay is. I’ve seen him,’ Star heard a coolly incisive male voice interrupting, and she could tell from the way he drawled the words that he knew exactly what Clay had been doing and, moreover, did not approve.
The voice sounded interesting but the man, Star suspected, who not really her type. He sounded far too disapproving and moralistic.
She was just about to walk away and refill her glass with the rather good champagne cocktail that she had been enjoying when a purposeful quartet comprising the two adults she had just heard talking plus the two children—or, rather, a slightly uncertain trio shepherded by an extremely large and very determined sheepdog in the form of a man who would normally have caused her more than a single heartbeat’s recognition of his masculine appeal—crossed her line of vision heading towards the man who had just been trying to attract her attention.
There was really no comparison between the two men, Star decided. Clay now looked sulkily, almost seedily unappealing as he ignored his wife’s outstretched hand and frowned impatiently down at his two children, whilst the man who had sounded so determined to remind him of his marital and parental status looked...
He looked like the very best kind of sexy American male, Star admitted to herself.
Tall, lithe in the way he moved, he had a sheen of good health on his thick, well-cut dark brown hair and on his forearms where his flesh was exposed by the short sleeves of his snowy-white T-shirt.
She didn’t miss, either, the brief glance he gave her as he restored and reunited the small family group—a look which told her how thoroughly he disapproved of what had been going on.
In a flash, the automatic flare of sexual awareness she had felt was submerged by a much stronger flare of resentful anger as she recognised what he was doing. The fact that she herself had already decided that she wasn’t remotely interested in the sexual invitation being handed out to her was forgotten as she rose to the challenge of his interference.
Just what the hell did he think he was doing? Star asked herself wrathfully. She had a deeply rooted resentment of other people trying to make her decisions for her, to control her life for her, especially her sex life, and if he thought for one moment that if she’d really been interested in Clay she would have allowed him or that theatrical piece of byplay of his to stop her...
Frowning, she started to turn away, shrugging aside her irritation.
It wasn’t like her to let anyone get under her skin so easily, especially a male anyone...and especially a male anyone whom she didn’t even know and with whom she had barely exchanged more than one assessing glance.
Her frown deepening at the realization that she’d let herself waste time thinking about a man whom she was hardly likely to see again, Star was startled when the subject of her thoughts suddenly appeared in front of her, blocking her path.
Star focused cool aquamarine eyes on him without smiling.
‘We haven’t been introduced yet,’ he began, smiling at her.
His teeth, Star was surprised to see, did not possess the uniform perfection that she had grown used to seeing in American adults. In fact, one of the front ones had a small but very definite chip in it. His smile was slightly lopsided as well, making him look vaguely boyish—something which might appeal to those members of her sex who enjoyed having someone to mother, Star decided scathingly, but she personally preferred her men to be totally and uncompromisingly adult, thank you very much.
‘No, we haven’t, have we?’ she agreed in answer to his comment, with a pointed and wholly unfriendly baring of her teeth, but as she made to sidestep him he stepped with her, still blocking her path.
Star stepped the other way and again he followed her.
‘You’re in my way,’ she told him sharply.
‘Your glass is empty,’ he commented, ignoring both her comment and her hauteur. ‘Let me get you another drink.’
‘Thank you, I can get my own drinks and anything else I feel I might need,’ Star told him evenly.
To her surprise, instead of being offended, he laughed.
‘Ah, you’re annoyed with me over Clay,’ he said, knowingly shaking his head as he added, ‘I’m sorry about that, but you would have been rather disappointed. He isn’t—’
‘Really? You certainly are a very perceptive man,’ Star marvelled sarcastically, ‘if one look is all it takes for you to know immediately exactly what another person wants.’
‘He’s a married man,’ he returned quietly, the good humour dying from his eyes. His eyes were a very deep, dense blue, shaded by thick dark blunt lashes which, for some odd reason, Star felt compulsively tempted to reach out and touch to see if they felt as soft as they looked.
‘Yes, I rather assumed he was,’ Star agreed. ‘Which was what attracted me to him in the first place,’ she added with blithe disregard for the truth. No one, but no one had the right to make her decisions for her and she was determined to make sure that this interfering would-be knight in shining armour was made aware of that fact.
‘Married men make by far the best lovers,’ she went on in deliberate provocation. ‘They’re normally so grateful to have a receptive, responsive woman in their bed after being frozen out sexually by their wives that they’ re only too willing to please, and, of course, once the fun is over you can send them home.’
‘Fun? You think of sex as fun—something recreational like baseball?’ he questioned sharply.
‘Yes,’ Star agreed, pleased to have pierced the armour of quiet self-assurance that he seemed to wear so easily and so irritatingly.
‘Don’t you?’ she challenged him mockingly.
‘No,’ he retorted immediately, ‘I don’t. So far as I am concerned, sex without emotion, without love, without all the things that bond two people together, is like a flower without perfume, initially appealing but on closer inspection a disappointment.’
‘That depends, surely, on your outlook?’ Star argued, adding when he looked questioningly at her, ‘On whether or not you want your flower to be perfumed. Some people don’t; some people are allergic to perfume.’
Trust her, she was thinking ruefully. Outwardly this man, whoever he was, had all the male attributes that most appealed to her. Pity that he’d had to go and spoil it all by opening his mouth and voicing his opinions. An amusing thought suddenly occurred to her, making her eyes sparkle warningly. He deserved to be punished a little for his interference and his high-handed, moralistic manner and she certainly deserved to have a little fun.
She couldn’t remember the last time she had devoted her energy to anything other than her work. Her last relationship had been over for—Oh... She was startled to realise that it was almost two years since she had told Jean Paul that their long distance affair was over.
She had been celibate for two years! Amazing... Oh, yes, it was high time she had some fun.
So he didn’t believe in sex without emotion, did he? Well, she didn’t believe him. No doubt he found it a good line with which to blind other women to the truth, but she was not like other women. No man really wanted commitment... No man really wanted a woman’s lifelong love. Oh, he might tell you he did at the start of a relationship, but sooner or later- he would revert to type—to want the challenge of someone fresh, someone new. Star had seen it happen so many, many times.
Yes, it would be amusing to teach this man a lesson, to let him believe that he had deceived her with his insincerity, and even more amusing to bring him to the point where he was forced to admit just how good sex could be—for its own sake—and she would make him admit it; Star was determined on that point.
‘It’s normally my sex who express those particular views,’ she told him, letting her voice soften and become slightly husky, her eyes sending deliberately sensual messages to his as she played with her empty glass. Then she breathed, ‘Perhaps I will have that drink after all.’
It never mattered how blatant you were or how insincere, Star reflected grimly as he fell into step beside her, guiding her through the crowd to a hovering waiter with a full tray of freshly poured cocktails. Men fell for it every time, greedily swallowing bait that surely in reality should have choked them.
There hadn’t been a man born yet whose sexual ego didn’t outweigh his brains, she decided as she accepted the full glass he was handing to her..
As she took the brimming glass from him a few drops fell onto her skin. Laughing provocatively, she made to lick them off, and then, looking straight into his eyes, offered him her wrist instead and whispered suggestively, ‘You do it...’
To her chagrin, instead of taking up her sensual invitation, he produced a large white handkerchief and carefully dried her skin, telling her quietly, ‘I’m afraid it’s going to stay slightly sticky. Did any spill on your dress? It might—’
‘No, my dress is fine,’ Star told him angrily, snatching her wrist away from him, her skin burning slightly with an emotion that she realised with shock was humiliation.
No man...no man had ever reacted to her like that...rejected her like that, and this one was certainly not going to be allowed to be the first.
Stifling her pride and staying where she was instead of turning on her heel and storming away from him proved harder than she had anticipated, but somehow she managed it.
‘Are you a member of Brad’s family?’ she asked him, subtly studying the contours of his body as she waited for him to reply.
Those muscles were certainly solid enough. What did he do? she wondered. Something that involved being outdoors a good deal of the time, perhaps.
‘No, I’m not. Are you related to Claire?’
He sounded more polite than genuinely interested but Star refused to be put off.
‘No. I’m actually a friend of Sally, Claire’s stepdaughter,’ she explained. ‘In fact we’ve been friends since our schooldays; but I’m not just here as a friend—I’m here on business as well. I’m a consultant and Brad’s been asking my advice on how to improve the image of their British distribution arm...’
A slight exaggeration of the truth but justified in the circumstances, Star excused herself. She was not normally given to exaggerating her own importance—in any area of her life. It was not normally necessary and she recognised that she was being far more forthcoming, supplying him with far more information about herself than she would normally have done.
But then this was not just about sex, just about meeting an attractive and very sexy man and wanting to go to bed with him, it was about proving a point, about confirming one of life’s realities, about making him back down and admit that he was lying when he pretended to be so emotionally correct and right on!
Engrossed in her own thoughts, Star missed the sudden, startled flare of recognition that darkened his eyes as he listened to what she was saying.
‘So...you won’t be attending the family dinner later this evening, then,’ Star commented, and offered temptingly, ‘Neither shall I.’
In point of fact she had been invited but she knew that Sally and Claire would understand if she didn’t go.
‘No... No, I shan’t,’ he was agreeing, his impossibly dark blue eyes—in a woman Star would have instantly suspected coloured contact lenses but something told her that this man would never fall victim to such vanity—meeting hers and causing her pulse to race a little faster. Oh, yes, he was quite definitely her type, physically at least.
‘So both of us will be at a loose end,’ Star prompted. She was beginning to wonder if she had imagined the intelligence she had seen in his eyes earlier, he was so slow on the uptake.
‘Yeah, I guess it looks as though we will...’ he agreed in a slow drawl.
‘We could have dinner together,’ she persisted, ‘at my hotel; I’m staying at the Lakeside,’ she added, mentioning the town’s most luxurious hotel.
‘The Lakeside...’ He glanced at his watch—a plain, no-nonsense affair with a worn leather strap, Star noticed. ‘I could meet you in the foyer at eight?’
‘Eight will be fine.’ Star assured him, wondering what on earth she was letting herself in for.
She said as much to Sally a few minutes later when her dinner date had excused himself and she had bumped into her and Chris walking across the lawn.
‘I hope I don’t have to work as hard in bed as I had to do to get him to have dinner with me,’ she told her friend feelingly.
Sally laughed, although Star could see that Chris looked slightly uncomfortable. Men didn’t like it when a woman was sexually aggressive, it made them feel uneasy... threatened.
‘Where is he?’ Sally demanded. ‘Point him out to me...’
‘I can’t; he’s disappeared,’ Star told her as she searched the crowded lawn.
‘Perhaps he’s got cold feet and decided to make his escape,’ Chris suggested.
Star gave him a cool look.
‘If he has, there are plenty of others to take his place,’ she responded.
She could see Sally biting her lip and giving Chris a warning look as he opened his mouth to say something else, but she waited until Chris had excused himself and left them on their own before telling her friend gently, ‘It’s all right Sally, you don’t have to protect me from Chris. I know he doesn’t approve of me.’
‘It’s not that,’ Sally protested. ‘It’s just...’
‘It’s just that he doesn’t like it when a woman behaves like a man?’ Star suggested.
‘You deliberately try to give him the wrong impression,’ Sally defended her husband. ‘You make him think...’
‘Make him think what?’ Star taunted her. ‘I make him think that I like sex...that I like men.’
‘But you don’t, do you?’ Sally countered swiftly, shocking Star into silence. Then seizing the advantage she had gained, she continued, ‘You don’t really like men at all, Star; you despise them. You think that all men are like your father,’ she added sadly, ‘and they aren’t. They—’
‘No?’ Star fought back. ‘Tell me that again in ten years’ time, Sal!’
‘Oh, Star,’ Sally protested under her breath as she watched her friend stalk off.
‘Where’s Star gone?’ Chris asked his wife a few minutes later as he rejoined her. ‘Off on another manhunt?’
‘Oh, Chris, she isn’t like that. Not really,’ Sally protested. ‘She just...she’s just so vulnerable, really. She was hurt so badly when her father left her mother and rejected her, trying to claim that she wasn’t his child, and then there were so many bad relationships in her mother’s life, so many love affairs that went wrong, that it just reinforced her belief that men can’t be trusted. She tries to pretend she doesn’t care—she even jokes that she can’t remember any more how many step and half brothers and sisters she has got because there are so many of them—but deep down inside, I know that she does care, that she—’
‘You’re far too soft-hearted,’ Chris told her lovingly, curling his arm around her and swinging her round so that they were face to face. ‘I don’t know whether it’s all this fresh air or not, but suddenly I am very, very hungry.’
‘Hungry...?’ Sally gave him a startled look. ‘Chris, we’ve only just eaten that wonderful buffet; you can’t possibly—’
‘Who said anything about being hungry for food?’ Chris whispered in her ear. ‘It’s you I’m hungry for... Mmm...and you taste very, very good as well...’
‘Chris!’ Sally protested as he started to nibble her ear, but she was laughing as she tried to push him away.
On the other side of the lawn someone else observed them. He had been watching too when Star had been with them, had seen her stalk away from Sally in obvious high dudgeon.
It was funny, but although he had heard quite a lot about her both from Sally and from Claire he still hadn’t recognised who Star was until she had made that comment about doing some PR work for Brad, Kyle acknowledged.
Listening to Claire and Sally describing her and her background as they’d explained the events surrounding the throwing of Sally’s wedding bouquet and the trio’s avowed determination to remain unwed despite having caught it, he had felt mildly sorry for the unknown Star and, if he was honest, a little smugly self-satisfied that he was too well balanced to share her warped outlook on life—and he could have done, given his own family history.
His mother had regularly dumped him on whoever she could find to take charge of him whilst she went off with her latest lover. His father had finally and unwillingly taken him under his own roof whilst making it clear how little he wanted him. But happily the bitterness which could have tainted the whole of his life had never been allowed to take root, had in fact been washed away, flooded out by the outpouring of love he had received from his stepmother’s older sister, the woman who had become a surrogate mother to him and whom he still gently mourned.
But now... now he had met Star, had witnessed at first hand the powerful, turbulent, magnetic pull of her sexuality, had felt his body respond to it and to her! And it had responded to her... Was still responding to her, if he was honest.
Intellectually he might be aware of all the pitfalls involved in following through on what was running through his head right now, but physically...
He had seen the look she had given him when he had stopped Clay from making his play for her, and the even more contemptuous one she had sent him when he had informed her of his views on sex without emotion. He suspected he knew exactly why she had been so determined to get him to have dinner with her—and it didn’t have anything to do with any desire to get him into bed. He only wished that he could say the same about his own motives in accepting.
Right now the thought of all the ways he would like to pleasure her if he had her spread out on a bed underneath him was driving him wild, with the kind of ache that was rapidly becoming a sharp urgency.
For starters he certainly wanted to see that smooth hairstyle all mussed and soft and those challenging sea-green eyes hazy and dazed with the joy of what they were both experiencing, and he surely wanted to feel those full, firm lips quivering eagerly beneath his, clinging to his, whilst he slowly stroked her silky skin. Oh, yes, he surely wanted that.
He wanted to peel her clothes from her body and share with her that spiralling, giddying, breathtaking climb through the delicately, deliberately erotic foothills of shared foreplay, across the plateau of escalating desire and then on to the heights where they could look down on the rest of the universe and momentarily believe that they were superhuman, immortal; but for that it was necessary to reach out and share yourself mentally and emotionally as well as physically and Star had made it more than plain that that kind of intimacy was not on her agenda.
And he had spoken the truth when he had told her that, to him, sex without emotion was like a flower without perfume, and he felt as sad and compassionately sorry for someone who had been denied the ability to experience that emotion as he did for someone who had been denied the gift of sight.
Of course, there had been occasions when he had been growing up when he had thrown himself wholeheartedly into the experience of exploring his sexuality, but since then there had been only two serious relationships in his life—one with a fellow student whilst he’d been at college, which had ended shortly after their graduation by mutual consent, and another which had been over for several years now and which had ended when he had moved from New York City to set up in business here in this quiet, sturdily American small town.
He remained on friendly terms with both his ex-lovers and was godfather to both their eldest children.
It had been the death of Grace, his ‘surrogate’ mother, that had prompted the heart-searching which had led to the ending of his New York relationship, bringing about as it had the admission that the emotion which he felt for Andrea had become that of a close friend rather than a lover. She had begun to feel the same way, she had confessed when he had finally brought himself to broach the subject with her.
He had promised himself when he’d left New York that the next time, the next love, would be his last, his for all time and beyond time, and, perhaps because of that, or perhaps simply because he was older and wiser and maybe tired too, he had found himself reluctant to embark on any new relationship, sensing that ultimately it would not fulfil his need to form a lifetime bond with that one special woman who would accept him and love him as he was and for what he was, as he would her.
