Maura MacKenzie - (Harlequin) - Sweet Seduction (txt), Ksiazki, txt

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ITS A SETTING FOR LOVE, NOT SCIENCE."Jake's eyes glinted in the moonlight as he spoke."Aren't they similar? " Denise replied, turning away from his gaze. "Scientists are lovers of the sea. They want to explore the hidden depths, the mystery of it, like - ""Like a man discovering the hidden depths of a woman? Yes. But the sea remains cool, whatever discoveries a man makes, whereas a woman grows warm from his touch." Strong hands grasped her waist and moved slowly down her hips."Not all womenl" she snapped, struggling to free herself."You'd have to prove that to me." He turned her to him, and his lips were on hers, the warm hardness of his chest pressing against the softness of her breasts. Wildfire sprang up between them, searing, melting the very core of her being - a core she'd thought was frozen.Harlequin first edition August 1981ISBN 0-373-70.006-7Copyright (c) 198I by Maura Mackenzie All rights reserved. Philippine copyright 198I Australian copyright 1981. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the permission of the publisher. Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.The Harlequin trademark, consisting of the words HARLEQUIN SUPERSOMANCE and the portrayal of a Harlequin, is registered in the United States Patent Office and in the Canada Trade Marks Office.Printed in USACHAPTER ONE"WOULD YOU CARE FOR SOMETHING from the bar?"Denise Jordan turned from her contemplation of cobalt-blue sea that had replaced the turquoise of Florida's coastline, already far behind them. The sun streaming through the small windows in the aircraft struck silver, in her blond hair."Just some orange juice, if you have it," she told the trim flight attendant, whose attention went immediately to the man seated on Denise's left."Certainly. And you, sir?""Bourbon and water."The man's voice was terse to the point of brusqueness; perhaps, Denise thought, from his last-minute rush onto the plane. Now she stole a closer look at her companion and registered the thick dark sweep of hair to one side, the well-tanned features marred slightly by deep grooves running from nose to firmly chiseled mouth. Early to middle thirties, she judged, suspecting that such a man must have been claimed long ago by a woman equally attractive.The neatly sculptured lines of her short hair turned abruptly away from the cabin's interior, her eyes seeking again the swelling expanse of the blue beneath them.The man beside her was around Sam's age - or the age her husband would have been if he were alive - and as dark as Sam had been fair. The two years since his death in a diving accident had done nothing to eradicate her deep-seated sense of guilt about the failure of their short-lived marriage. A failure that had, initially at least, been hers."Your juice, ma'am." The stewardess broke into her thoughts, and Denise reached automatically for the stubby glass of golden liquid, placing it on the armrest between her and the man who accepted his bourbon with a grunt of thanks.Unlike her companion on the flight from San Diego, who had seemed not to notice her disinterest in his life's history, this man obviously had no intention of unburdening himself to a casual fellow traveler. Easing his long legs until they stretched far under the seat in front, he stared moodily at the cabin ceiling while sipping occasionally from the glass he held in his hand. A long, bronzed, well-shaped hand.Her own long, slender fingers reached for her glass, gripping it so stiffly that she only then became aware of the tension filling her.Jet or any other kind of travel was unfamiliar to her, a fact that had been forcibly brought to her attention when the flight attendant at San Diego had had to remind her to fasten her seat belt as the plane left the terminal. Perhaps if Sam had lived....Honesty made her admit frankly, behind her closed and cool expression, that even had Sam lived there would have been no happy trips taken together, no strong male for her to hold on to as the girl across the aisle, obviously a bride, now held on to her new husband's hand. From the sparkling, half-seductive looks the dark girl slanted up into his face, Denise knew their wedding night would be one of blissful giving and receiving, loving and being loved.A stab of bitter envy pulled Denise's head back to the window, where the fluff of white clouds had replaced glittering water.Sam had had a normal man's expectations of a full and satisfying physical relationship with the woman he had married, and instead Denise had presented him with an incredibly naive bride who shrank from his ardently expressed passion on their wedding night. Why had the kisses she had enjoyed during their short engagement turned into a tightening of body and mind when Sam's hand went roughly, possessively, over her, kneading the breasts no man's hands had touched before, seeking the intimate parts of her that had lain in expecr tant dormancy, forcing the heavy weight of his body on hers until she had screamed out her terror and pain?He had been contrite, apologetic, when the act was over, telling her that she would enjoy his lovemaking in future. But she never had. Not all the schooling in the world could relax the instant tightening of her reflexes when Sam reached for her in the wide marriage bed that had been her parents'. Something had frozen within her on that marriage night, and it hadn't been too hard to believe Sam's frequent assertions that she was frigid. She had been more relieved than saddened when he had turned to other women to assuage the amorous urgings of his nature.Maybe it had been a mistake to make their home in the huge estate bordering the ocean in San Diego's most exclusive area. Maybe if their marriage had started in the normal surroundings of an apartment or a modest suburban house there might have been a chance for them.But Sam had seemed to want the trappings of luxury, the ambience of an age gone by, in the home Denise's father had bequeathed to her on his death just before she had met Sam. The house servants she had taken for granted, having grown up with most of them, had seemed to give Sam a sense of importance he had never known before.His upbringing in the Midwest had been as unlike her own as it was possible to be. Strict and highly religious parents had left him with an intense desire to savor all the pleasures in life that his parents had denied. Denise had been three when her young mother had left her much older husband, and through her growing-up years her father had jealously guarded Denise as she became more like her mother - a truly beautiful woman. Her mother had been killed not long after she'd left them, in the company of a man nearer her own age, but Philip Haymes had remained obsessive about his daughter, keeping her under his watchful eye when other girls her age were testing their wings in matters of life and love. He had permitted Denise to go to U.S.C. only because she could come home after classes to the imposing old house set on a hill overlooking the ocean.The ocean that was so familiar to her, a result of her solitary forays along its shores, became her means of escaping the close confines of her father's narrow perimeters. Her graduation as a marine biologist had marked the beginning of freedom for her, and, more importantly, her father's death shortly after had released her from a lifelong guilt about her own femininity. That she had inherited considerable wealth from his banking interests scarcely entered her mind, for her own type of liberation had been far more important than financial independence. Freedoms most women took for granted were heady new experiences for Denise, and she was wide open to the advances of a Sam Jordan who had all the assets of the lover in her illicit dreams.At the time it had seemed like a miracle when Sam had come into her life. Like a newly minted coin, dazzling and bright, he had exuded breezy self-confidence in the cloistered confines of her home. The house itself had lost some of its repressive air of formality under his eager and forceful personality.But not long after their marriage, the loud, recriminatory voices, banged doors and blue shadows under the eyes of their young mistress had made the servants take a second look at Sam. None of them had any illusions about where he spent the long nights when he had left alone his bride of a few weeks, announcing his homecoming in the early morning hours with squealing tires on the graveled driveway - particularly Ellen, the elderly housekeeper. Ellen had acted as surrogate mother to Denise after she had been abandoned by her mother for a man rich enough to provide all the material comforts she herself could not.Denise had known, too, and been ashamed of her relief that at least Sam had satisfied his physical appetite elsewhere. Guilt had added to confusion until she froze completely each time Sam joined her in the wide bed that had become theirs on their marriage.If she had been able to respond to him, be the wife he needed, he wouldn't have died that day in the Pacific Ocean off San Diego - wouldn't hav... [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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