hands and mouth on my body. Last night when I got home I couldn’t sleep for thinking about you; wanting you.’
He moved against her and Heather could feel the rhythmic urgency within him. Her own body seemed to surge in response, melting against him, her teeth biting into his shoulder, as his hands swept up her body and she was enveloped in fierce sheets of desire, her senses filled by the sight, smell and sound of him, wanting his possession.
She felt him move purposefully against her, the hard hunger of his body an urgent need, her gasp of pleasure as he licked her nipples making him mutter thickly into her skin. ‘I can’t wait much longer, Heather,’ he warned her, and the sound of his voice brought her wrenchingly back to her senses, fear, and the appalled, bitter realisation of what she was doing tearing through her. She jerked away instinctively, aware of his tensed disbelief and the frustrated rage emanating from him.
‘Something on account,’ she reminded him, hardly recognising her own voice, ‘that was all….’
She heard him swear and flinched beneath the explicitness of the words he used. Pulling on her clothes, her breathing ragged, her every instinct urged her to get away, to escape before it was too late, only one tiny inner voice protesting that it was already too late, much, much too late.
She reached the door before he could stop her, nearly bumping into the manservant who had let her in, in the hall. What on earth must he think, or was he used to half-dressed women coming out of his employer’s office? Had Race used the same ploy with others as he had on her?
The thought made her feel acutely sick. How could she have allowed him to touch her as he had? What on earth had happened to her. She loathed men like him; she hated any man touching her and yet in his arms she had… responded like an intensely passionate woman. She forced herself to admit it as her trembling legs carried her out in to the street.
There was probably a rational explanation. Her reaction could have been fuelled by her anger; anger was a primitive and intense emotion. Race was a skilled lover; it was her body that responded, not her mind, she told herself, but it was not particularly comforting. Neither her body nor her mind had ever responded like that before.
The first thing she did when she reached her flat was to pick up the phone and tell her agent that she wanted to pull out of the Rio contract. He tried to argue her out of it, but she remained steadfast.
‘I want you to ring them and tell them now,’ she told him, refusing to give any explanation for her decision. Once she had finished her call, she paced the flat, tense as a caged animal. She had to get away, to escape before Race found some other way of hunting her down and trapping her. She feared him. She acknowledged it now, and not simply because he wanted her. She feared her own reaction to him, the primitive desire for possession she sensed within him. She wasn’t short of money. She could go abroad… concentrate on her writing.
Yes, that’s what she would do, she decided feverishly. She would give up modelling for good… she could afford to. She was still pacing the floor when Jennifer came in. She took one look at her strained face and rushed over to her in concern.
‘What happened?’ she demanded.
‘Race Williams,’ Heather told her grimly. ‘No… I don’t want to talk about it. Jen, I’ve got to get away,’ she told her cousin. ‘He frightens me….’
‘You should be flattered that he’s showing such an interest in you,’ Jennifer told her. ‘You know, at first I thought he simply wanted to add you to his list of conquests, but now I’m not so sure. I think he’s really fallen for you, Heather.’
Her cousin’s incuarbly romantic nature made Heather groan. there had been no love in the way Race had touched her body; no tender adoration, only angry male need, and she, God help her, had responded to it, had been set on fire by it; the ultimate betrayal, but he would never know that he was the only man who had made her feel like that.
‘Why don’t you give him a chance?’ Jennifer urged. ‘You both got off on the wrong foot. He’s crazy about you, Heather. Terry says he was furious when you ducked out of the foursome the other night. I hadn’t realised he was so involved, but Terry told me that even before he knew we were cousins or that Terry knew you, he was interested in you….’
Through her involvement in the Rio contract, Heather surmised, guessing that she was correct when Jennifer asked ingenuously, ‘He’s even got some magazine pictures of you in his desk. One of the secretaries saw them. I’m sure he’s fallen for you. Just give him a chance! Okay, he frightened you with the sexy come-on, but he doesn’t know that….’
‘I’m still a virgin?’ Heather supplied grimly. ‘No, and I don’t want him to know. Promise me you won’t say a word about it? Promise me, Jen?’
‘Of course I won’t,’ her cousin assured her softly. ‘What do you think I am? But sooner or later you’re going to have to tell him,’ she said mischievously, ‘or he’ll find out for himself. You can’t keep him at bay for ever! Come on, admit it,’ she coaxed, ‘you aren’t entirely indifferent to him. You couldn’t be, no woman could.’
‘Perhaps I’m not,’ Heather agreed, ‘but I’ve no intention of becoming just another bow on his string of women.’
‘I’m sure if you just give him a chance you’ll find out he really cares about you,’ Jennifer assured her.
Heather said nothing, not even pointing out that her cousin had changed her tune. She felt drained of all emotion other than a primeval sense of fear. Race haunted her; every time she closed her eyes she saw his face, saw the passion in it and felt her own heated response. She couldn’t believe what was happening to her.
‘Jen, I’ve got to get away,’ she announced huskily. ‘I need time to… to think. I’ve told my agent to tell them I’m not interested in the Rio contract.’ She saw Jennifer’s expression and smiled. ‘Yes I know, I’ve left it a bit late in the day, but I thought I’d try to get away somewhere, concentrate on my writing….’
‘You mean run away from Race,’ Jennifer said acidly, ‘where will you go?’
‘I’ve no idea. Somewhere remote and quiet. Let me know if you get any ideas.’
‘You know you were saying about going away, Heather?’
Heather raised her head from her newspaper to glance at her cousin. Three days had passed since she had seen Race; three days during which her stomach had clenched each time the telephone rang or someone knocked on the door, but he had made no attempt to get in touch with her. That didn’t mean that he never would; she was sure he was just biding his time, waiting…. He had known she had responded to him. She couldn’t disguise that and like any hunter smelling blood he would track her down, pursuing his kill.
‘Do you still want to? Get away, I mean?’
Surprised Heather nodded her head. Jennifer had been totally against her going away when she first mentioned it. ‘Why?’ she asked. ‘I thought you disapproved.’
‘Mm…. Well perhaps you ought to if it’s what you really want. It’s just that Terry has this cottage in the Highlands of Scotland. He uses it during the summer for fishing, and I’m sure he’d lend it to you if you wanted him to. He was talking about it yesterday, that’s what gave me the idea.’ She flushed as Heather looked at her. ‘I’m only trying to help,’ she assured her, ‘but if you don’t like the idea….’
The Scottish Highlands, all grim grandeur and sullen skies; the scenery suited her mood. ‘Have you discussed it with Terry?’ she asked.
Jennifer shook her head. ‘Not yet, but I’m sure he won’t mind. I’ll ask him tomorrow if you like.’ She seemed unnaturally tense, and Heather wondered if Race Williams had been questioning her again. Jennifer hadn’t mentioned him and Heather hadn’t asked.
‘It sounds tempting,’ she admitted.
‘Oh, Heather,’ Jennifer’s eyes were shadowed,