CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER FIVE
‘H ELLO , P ORTIA O AKHURST SPEAKING .’
There was a brief silence on the other end of the line, a pause just long enough for instinct to tighten her skin and snag her breath.
Then a smooth, deep voice purred in her ear. ‘Portia. I’m pleased to catch you at your desk.’
She sagged back in her chair, trying and failing to control her galloping pulse.
It had been three weeks almost to the day since she’d seen Lex. She’d walked out of his hotel late that Saturday morning without a backward glance, telling herself there’d be no regrets. That night of fantastic sex had finally burnt out the last remnants of her feelings for him.
She’d told him the truth about the day they’d parted, that she hadn’t deserted him, and he’d accepted it easily. Because the feelings they’d once shared were long dead. Now, she’d told herself, she could move on and fully put the past behind her.
But for three weeks she’d started every time the telephone rang. Every time she saw a tall man in a leather jacket. Every time she glimpsed unruly dark curls and a squared jaw. The thought of running into Lex kept her on edge, half fearing and half wishing he’d seek her out.
And here he was, calling her at work. ‘Lex, what a surprise.’ She waited but he didn’t fill the silence. Her hand tightened around the phone. ‘Are you ringing about an upcoming auction?’
This time his silence had a sizzling quality to it. As of annoyance barely held in check.
‘Don’t insult our intelligence by even pretending to think that, Portia.’
Did he deliberately drop his voice as he said her name, making it drawl so low she felt it scrape through her pelvis?
She sighed and tugged her earlobe. So much for pretence. He knew too much about her.
And you know a lot about him. Especially how he likes his sex.
The needy clench of her body reminded her she was nowhere near immune.
Portia looked towards the open door but there was no one nearby. ‘Why did you ring, Lex?’
‘Why do you think?’
She chewed her bottom lip and reminded herself it wasn’t for the pleasure of her company.
‘I don’t have time for a game of twenty questions. I have work to do.’
‘But not on the weekend.’
The silence thrummed with the heavy beat of her pulse. It was Thursday. Was he asking her to spend time with him this weekend?
‘No, I have other things planned.’ Like grocery shopping and cleaning the oven in her small shared flat.
Boring things said a voice in her head.
But sensible and safe.
‘I’m flying to London soon. Can I tempt you to spend the weekend with me? I know a place outside London I think you’ll like.’
Portia put her hand to her chest, trying to still her racing heart. He was right, it was tempting.
That night three weeks ago would, she knew, be emblazoned on her memory for life. The sort of memory she’d take out and dream over when her bones grew arthritic and her body bent. Or probably long before that, because she suspected whatever her future held, there’d be little to compare with the ecstasy, the sheer vibrant joy, she’d experienced with Lex.
That’s because you’ve never let another man into your life the way you let him in. Now that part of your life is over.
Portia grimaced. That was why she had to say no.
Over the years she’d met attractive men but never been tempted to risk herself in another serious relationship. It scared her sometimes, her inability to put herself out there. To trust her heart, even a little, to someone else.
Because she’d spent so long relying only on herself that independence was her default position, a defence against hurt?
Because she couldn’t forget the pain of his desertion?
Or because no other man had made her feel a tenth of what he had?
Fury sizzled under her skin. Could she be that weak?
‘I’m afraid that’s impossible. But thanks for the offer.’ Her mother had brought her up to be polite.
‘You don’t want to spend time with me? You’re saying you didn’t enjoy our night together?’ His tone challenged her to deny it.
‘Oh, I enjoyed it. You’re a very accomplished lover.’
She paused, searching for words that would end this quickly. Because his invitation was far too tempting. The scary fact was she wanted to spend the weekend with him. Her blood fizzed with anticipation at the very idea.
But it would be a mistake. That night together was supposed to have marked the end of the relationship that had haunted her for years. She needed to make a clean break.
‘Well, then—’
‘But I’m not in the market for a sexual relationship right now. That night we were prompted by ghosts of the past. All that emotion around how our affair ended.’
It hadn’t been an affair. For her it had been far more. But that was all she’d admit to.
She hurried on before he could interrupt. ‘It was a...relief to let go of all those feelings. And the remnants of our old physical attraction. But it’s over, Lex. I don’t want to go back.’
‘I’m not talking about going back. I’m just proposing a weekend together.’ His voice dropped low. ‘I guarantee you’d enjoy it.’
That was the trouble. Portia was sure he could. But where would that leave her? Pining for him all over again?
‘Again, thanks for the offer, but you’ll have to look elsewhere for a weekend companion.’
She ended the connection.
Portia sank back in her chair, staring at her computer screen but seeing instead Lex as she’d left him in the hotel. He’d been sprawled, naked, one arm reaching across the bed from where he’d roped it around her waist while they slept. His jaw was darkened with stubble that had left red patches across her throat, breasts and inner thighs. Her sated body had hummed with a sense of well-being, filled with a sweet warmth that belied the need to leave.
She’d stood there on wobbly legs, half hoping he’d wake and stop her going.
That was what had finally given her the impetus to walk out the door—knowing that if she weren’t careful, she’d find herself in thrall again to the only man she’d ever loved.
Lex hadn’t planned on returning to the auction house after she’d refused his suggestion of a weekend together, yet here he was, once more surveying the sculptures coming up for auction.
He’d told himself he’d cancel the trip to London. It had been a spur of the moment decision anyway. True, he’d spent a useful afternoon in meetings, but the impetus for the visit was Portia. Despite her rejection. He just hadn’t been able to keep away.
He’d told himself he needed to forget her.
Six weeks ago he’d woken in his hotel suite, looking forward to a lazy Saturday in bed with her, only to discover she’d abandoned him.
Just like old times.
Except she hadn’t abandoned him that first time. All those years believing she’d made a fool of him, using him for her own amusement, and she’d been a victim of her father’s brutality.
That had to be why Lex’s reaction to her now was so confused. Why he couldn’t just walk away as she had.
Something lingered, some shred of...
He shook his head. There was no connection between them. Whatever emotional bond they’d once shared had been severed. The only thing left was sexual attraction.
That was why he was here, because he still wanted her, physically. Instead of his need abating after they’d been to bed together, the craving had grown stronger.
That was why he’d returned to London. He wasn’t a man habitually driven by hormonal impulses. Portia was the sole exception. It must be something to do with imprinting on her as his first love. Or their affair being cut short so abruptly.
And the fact that she’s a fine woman.
Portia had an allure that even her severe business suits couldn’t dim.
Lex stared at the little white figurine before him. A piece of prehistoric, Cycladic sculpture. The female figure was stylised, its face almost smooth, breasts and hips rounded, arms crossed. But there was something about the figure, something powerful and enigmatic that drew him.
A grunt of laughter escaped. Powerful and enigmatic, that was how he’d describe Portia’s allure.
It wasn’t just her slim body, her feminine shape now more rounded than in her teens. It wasn’t only her passion, her unbridled hunger for him that had met and matched something raw and untamed in himself.
There was something else about Portia, something that had sunk its claws deep inside him and wouldn’t let go.
He didn’t know what it was and he didn’t want to know. He just wanted to sate it so he could move on with his life.
Except she’d refused him.
His lips curved in a reluctantly appreciative smile. It wasn’t often anyone said no to him these days. He’d striven to get where he was, initially with backing from his father, but his success was due mainly to hard work, strategic vision and the ability to negotiate to get what he wanted.
Clearly his negotiation skills were rusty. Portia had been so definite when she turned him down.
He’d withstood temptation for three weeks but then he’d caved and booked a flight to London.
He needed this done. Complete. Then he’d move on.
This being his rampant sexual hunger for her.
‘Mr Tomaras.’ The husky voice tightened his belly. ‘You’ve seen something you like?’
He turned and met familiar velvety eyes that drew him back to that night in bed with her. All that softness. All that eagerness. He’d been so aroused he’d worried he might come on too strong. But Portia had met him with a wild hunger that matched his own.
He couldn’t believe she didn’t want him anymore. Surely he saw a flicker of interest, her colour deepening?
‘Ms Oakhurst. Is that how it’s going to be? No more first names?’
She shrugged. ‘This is my workplace.’
Yet she’d sought him out. She could have slipped past without saying a word while his attention was elsewhere. But then Portia had never been one to shy from a challenge or what she believed to be right.
Something dropped hard inside him. Had she come to tell him face-to-face that she didn’t want to see him again?
‘Ah. Discretion.’ He nodded as if it made sense, when the only thing that made sense to him right now was the need to gather her close and kiss her until neither of them could remember their names. ‘To answer your question, yes.’ Deliberately, he lowered his voice. ‘I see something I want.’
She blinked, pupils dilating, and there it was. Desire.
He saw it in her parted lips. In the sharp rise of her breasts, betraying her breathlessness. In that now smouldering look that didn’t belong in a workplace. She might protest, but she couldn’t hide her response to him.
If he’d doubted, even for an instant, his continuing need for Portia Oakhurst, the leaping arc of heat between them proved him wrong.
Breathing deep through flared nostrils she turned to survey the spotlit figurine. ‘You’re a collector?’ She frowned. ‘It doesn’t really fit with the oil painting you bought here. They’re very different styles.’
Lex shrugged. Was she really so interested in his taste in art? Or was she finding words to fill the silence?
‘That was a spur of the moment decision.’
He’d regretted it soon after, for he didn’t have space in his life for sentiment. The painting had taken him back to a time when he’d been young and vulnerable. When he believed in...
But Lex didn’t do regrets. Especially when that purchase had led him directly back to Portia.
‘As for the figurine, I can see that in my home.’ It was easier to talk about it as a furnishing than a piece of art that resonated with him at a primal level. His emotional response to the ancient artefact was something he preferred not to admit. ‘I might loan it out for a while to a museum in Athens. If I buy it.’
From the corner of his eye he saw Portia turn and tilt her head, as if to view him better. ‘So you’re a philanthropist as well as a collector?’
He shrugged. ‘I think those with the money to own significant art should share their good fortune.’
‘Unlike my father.’
‘He is very possessive.’
Once his wife died, Portia’s father had refused to open his home for any charitable functions or for the village fair that had been held in the grounds for as long as Lex could recall. The man had broken with centuries of tradition, jealously guarding his property for himself.
‘He was possessive. He’s dead.’ Her voice was toneless.
Lex swung around to face her, shocked. Her father wouldn’t have been that old.
He tried to read her expression. But she didn’t meet his eyes, staring instead at the sculpture behind the toughened glass. Her blank expression deliberately concealed her emotions.
‘I’m sorry.’ Lex had hated the man but he’d been the last of her family. He remembered how devastated she’d been when her mother died. ‘That’s why the painting was auctioned? The estate’s being sold?’
She shook her head and turned away from the display. ‘No. Most of the estate is entailed. It’s gone to my father’s second cousin. That painting was my inheritance and I sold it.’
Lex scrutinised her taut features, knowing there was more here that he wanted to understand. Her words made it sound as if she’d inherited only the painting, which made no sense.
Surely not all the contents of her home had been entailed? And why sell the picture? He knew how much it meant to her. She’d spoken of it when she was young, calling it the perfect view of her home, the first thing she’d save if Cropley Hall went up in flames.
Maybe she needs money.
Lex frowned, testing the idea. He’d assumed she was a wealthy woman, inheriting money from her mother. Then, surely there’d have been something from her father, something more than a painting.
He realised there was so much about Portia that he didn’t know. Things he wanted to understand.
‘I’ll leave you to your art,’ she said, turning away.
‘You’re leaving? But you came to me.’
He glanced at his watch, realising it was after the gallery’s official closing time though no one had come to hurry him on his way. One of the perks of being wealthy.
‘It’s late, Lex.’ Her tone, or maybe it was the serious expression she wore, imbued the words with extra weight. ‘I assume I won’t see you again. I wanted to wish you...well.’
She was saying goodbye. A permanent goodbye.
Lex’s stomach knotted and he was surprised to feel pain catch under his ribs. Surprised at the abrupt feeling of loss.
‘Wait!’
His hand shot out, snagging hers. Instantly he felt that jolt of physical connection, like an electrical charge. He pulled his hand back, flexing his fingers and saw her do the same, eyes widening.
He breathed deep, centring himself.
‘It’s still there, Portia.’ Slowly she shook her head, whether in disagreement or in disbelief, he didn’t know. ‘You feel it too, don’t try to pretend you don’t.’
Her head jerked up, eyes flashing, but when she spoke her voice was low, reminding him they weren’t totally alone. One of her colleagues might appear at any moment. ‘I’m not pretending anything. I’m just being sensible.’
In her neat jacket and trousers of dark forest green and her hair up in some neat bun arrangement, she did look sensible. Except for the flush climbing her throat and the light in her eyes.
‘Sensible because you see no future for us.’
She inclined her head. ‘We agreed that we lead completely separate lives now.’
‘And yet there’s still this.’
Deliberately he stroked his finger down the side of her hand, watching her flinch and bite her lip. He knew what she was feeling because he felt it too, the sizzling tingle spreading from that point of contact, radiating through his body.
‘It doesn’t mean anything.’
‘Stop pretending, Portia. Of course it means something. It means that, whatever the rights and wrongs, we still have unfinished business.’
She shook her head. ‘No. If we ignore it, it will go away.’
Lex shoved his hands in his trouser pockets, watching the way her gaze followed the movement then lingered at his groin before slowly climbing. Just that look, and the realisation she shared this preternatural awareness, had his body hardening.
‘How’s that working for you, Portia? You’re more on edge now than you were before. It’s getting worse, isn’t it? Not better. I can read the signs.’
He stepped closer, lowering his voice to a whisper, suppressing his own shudder of longing as he caught a drift of her scent, bluebells and intriguing woman. ‘Your lips are parted. You’re flushed. Did you know you’re leaning towards me?’ He watched her straighten and his mouth curled in a too-tight smile.
‘You’re trembling, Portia and—’ he touched her again, this time lightly clasping her wrist ‘—your pulse is racing.’ He watched her swallow. ‘Your skin’s tingling, isn’t it? Your breath is quickening. You want me to touch you. Not just your hand but—’
‘Stop!’ Her voice sounded strangled. Yet she didn’t immediately pull her hand away.
She closed her eyes, drawing a breath that lifted her breasts against her jacket. At the open neck of her shirt he saw her pulse throb, matching the frantic beat he felt at her wrist.
‘I can’t do this here.’ Her voice was raw, her eyes huge and he felt—almost—like a brute for forcing the issue. But he was only acknowledging the truth, something she tried to avoid.
Lex released her hand and stepped back, ignoring the silent howl of protest as he denied himself. He half turned away, catching sight of someone down the corridor switching off an office light.
She was right, this wasn’t the place.
About to invite her somewhere quiet to talk, he stopped. The first time he’d bought her a drink she’d walked out on him. The second time they’d spent the night in his bed, and still she’d walked away the next day.
His breath stuck in his lungs, his chest seizing.
Maybe she’s right.
Maybe the only sensible action is to separate.
Every instinct screamed against the idea. He wanted more. He wanted to slake his thirst for her, have her again and again until the unrelenting need finally faded.
But it was Portia’s choice too. If she said no, and she had, that was her right. He’d have to live with it.
Suddenly his boundless certainty faded.
Lex refused to become a man who’d pursue a woman against her wishes.
He’d intended to make her admit the truth—that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He’d planned a weekend that would allow them time to give in to every erotic impulse until there was nothing left.
A weekend of pure indulgence, where you got everything you wanted.
But Portia said no. Suck it up and walk away.
There was a metallic taste on Lex’s tongue and a sick feeling in his belly.
‘You’re right. This is your workplace. I shouldn’t have come.’
He inclined his head, stiff neck muscles straining. One last look into those beautiful eyes and he dragged his gaze towards the exit.
In the distance two people stood in the reception area, studiously not looking this way. Too studiously. He’d drawn unwanted attention to Portia, making no secret of his interest. She deserved better.
‘If I decide to bid at future auctions I’ll do it online. You won’t have to worry about me turning up here again.’ He half turned towards her but didn’t meet her gaze. ‘I wish you well, Portia. Goodbye.’
He’d taken three steps when something touched his hand. Warm fingers slid over his then pulled away.
He halted, turning and there she was, heart-stoppingly sexy in her plain business clothes and neat earrings. He recognised them, he realised. They were tiny golden roses, the last gift she’d ever received from her mother.
The sight reminded him that while he’d known her long ago, they were strangers now.
She opened her mouth and he fixed his own in a slight smile ready to acknowledge her farewell.
But his smile solidified when she spoke. ‘You’re right, Lex. We can’t go on like this.’ She breathed deep. ‘I need time to pack and I need to be back to London on Sunday evening.’
It was so unexpected it took a second to understand.
‘I’m accepting your invitation, Lex. I’ll spend the weekend with you.’