Desire and Deception
Miranda Lee

www.millsandboon.co.uk

THE STORY SO FAR…

After her father’s death, Gemma Smith made two astonishing discoveries: amongst his possessions she found a priceless black opal, and an old photograph that made her believe that she could be nearly twenty—almost two years older than her father had led her to believe. Gemma decided to leave the Outback to find out more about her mother, who had died when she was born, and to start a new life.

Fate introduced her to Nathan Whitmore, a successful screenwriter and the acting head of Whitmore Opals. Highly attracted to Gemma and struck by her vulnerability, Nathan offered her a reward for the black opal, which he suspected had been stolen from Byron Whitmore, his adoptive father, more than twenty years before. Nathan also offered Gemma a home and jobs in Sydney—first as “minder” to his wayward teenage daughter, Kirsty, and then, when Gemma had mastered Japanese, on the sales force of Whitmore Opals. Gemma found herself falling for her new protector, although various members of the Whitmore household warned her that Nathan was a heartless seducer.

But, to her delight, Nathan proposed marriage, though Gemma still had her doubts: she may have been about to become the second Mrs. Nathan Whitmore, but did she really know her husband-to-be…and what about the intriguing secrets of her real origins, and the black opal?

PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS IN THIS BOOK

GEMMA SMITH-WHITMORE: after her father’s death, Gemma discovers a magnificent black opal worth a small fortune and an old photograph that casts doubt on her real identity. In quest of the truth and a new life, she goes to Sydney, and fate introduces her to Nathan Whitmore, her husband-to-be…

NATHAN WHITMORE: adopted son of Byron Whitmore, Nathan is acting head of Whitmore Opals and a talented screenwriter. After a troubled childhood and a divorce, he is ruthless and utterly emotionally controlled. Will he ever drop that mask and give Gemma the love that she needs…?

JADE WHITMORE: the spoiled, willful only daughter of Byron and late Irene Whitmore (nee Campbell). Her wild-child ways give the wrong impression to everyone except, perhaps, Kyle Armstrong?

KYLE ARMSTRONG: the new marketing manager at Whitmore Opals. He is unforthcoming about his background—does he plan to use the Whitmore family for his own ends?

BYRON WHITMORE: recently widowed, he is the head of the Whitmore family, and a stranger to love.

LENORE LANGTRY: talented stage actress, ex-wife and Nathan Whitmore and mother of Kirsty, Lenore has finally found love with top lawyer, Zachary Marsden.

MELANIE LLOYD: housekeeper to the Whitmores, Melanie has been on emotional autopilot since the tragic deaths of her husband and only child.

AVA WHITMORE: Byron’s much-younger sister, she struggles with her weight, her unmarried state and her fear of failure.

KIRSTY WHITMORE: the wayward fourteen-year-old daughter of Nathan and Lenore.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER ONE

JADE woke to daylight and confusion.

Where on earth am I? she wondered fuzzily, her head thick with the after-effects of sleeping tablets.

And then she remembered.

She was back in her old bedroom at Belleview. Back home.

‘Oh, God,’ she groaned, and rolled out of bed, clutching her pounding temples while she staggered, naked, across the white shag carpet and into her white and gold en-suite bathroom.

‘Oh, God,’ she groaned again when she saw her reflection in the mirror. Her short white-blonde hair was sticking out in all directions, her dark blue eyes like black holes in her pasty face.

But it was her bruised breasts that drew and held her attention. She hadn’t realised...

Jade stared at them for a long moment before shuddering violently. Suddenly, the full horror of what she’d narrowly escaped hit her, and she sank down on the side of the bath, her head dropping down between her knees as the nausea rose from her stomach. For a few seconds, the room spun, but the moment passed. Jade braced herself with hands on knees and slowly lifted her head. She still felt a little clammy and decided to sit there for a while longer.

Her thoughts kept going round, however. Regretful, recriminating thoughts.

She shouldn’t have agreed to let Roberto use the spare room of her unit till he could find a place of his own. She definitely shouldn’t have agreed to his holding a small party last night.

But in truth, she hadn’t seen any danger. After all, Roberto was gay. And so were all his friends. Jade had always found gay men not only sweet, but kind and gentlemanly and very interesting to talk to. They made good friends for women. Safe friends.

But one of Roberto’s friends had not been safe.

The horror washed in again, bringing another wave of nausea.

Jade stood up abruptly and walked over to the shower, snapping on the water and standing there testing till it was hot enough. Stepping into the steaming spray, she shut her eyes and turned her face upwards, closing her mind to everything but the steady beating of its cleansing, reviving heat.

It was a mental trick she had learnt long ago. When things got too painful, she just clicked off her thoughts to everything but the most immediate and superficial needs. Washing. Eating. Sleeping.

For the first time, it didn’t work. She couldn’t seem to forget that hand over her mouth, that steely arm clamped around her breasts, those filthy words whispered in her ear. If she hadn’t managed that lucky kick to her assailant’s groin, God knew what would have happened.

But she had, and unexpectedly she’d been free. Snatching up her car keys from the hall table, she’d bolted for the door, wearing nothing but a silk robe, driving home to Belleview at a speed which owed thanks to its being three o’clock in the morning, with the streets of suburban Sydney almost deserted. Heaven knew what would have happened if she’d been stopped by the police. God, she could see it now, being arrested for dangerous driving and hauled, half-naked down to the police station. Then a sour-faced Nathan arriving the following morning with the family solicitor in tow. Like the last time.

Only the last time her arrest had been for possession of drugs. Zachary Marsden had defended her on that occasion as well.

Of course, it hadn’t been her marijuana in the glovebox of her car. She detested drugs. It had belonged to a so-called friend who’d vowed she’d given up the habit. Luckily, Zachary was a top defender—would her father employ any other kind?—and he’d soon proved her innocence to the satisfaction of the magistrate and the charges had been dropped. Zachary had really believed in her innocence, too, which was more than could be said for Nathan.

What a hypocrite her adopted brother was!

He pretended to be holier-than-thou, just like her father. But she knew what he’d been up to before Byron found him on the streets of King’s Cross. Yet he had the hide to judge her over her supposedly loose lifestyle, to criticise her for being sexually provocative.

Jade had to laugh at that. Nathan oozed sex. Why, there wasn’t a woman within fifty feet of him who hadn’t wanted him at some stage, her own mother included.

Immediately, Jade’s mind closed in on the subject of her mother. In her opinion, she hadn’t had a mother. End of story.

Back to Nathan.

Jade switched off the shower, her generous mouth curving into a bitter smile. She had that cold-blooded devil taped, all right. People felt sorry for him because of his supposedly unfortunate background. Well, she didn’t. No way. He’d loved every minute of his decadent existence with that crazy mother of his.

Yes, Nathan was as hard as nails and an opportunist of the first order, conning his way into her father’s heart, getting Byron to adopt him, securing a cushy lifestyle and a fantastic job that he wouldn’t have had a hope of winning with his pathetic education. People said he was clever and perhaps he was—not many people could whip off an award-winning play every year in their spare time—but he didn’t even have his HSC, let alone a university degree, which was what her father had said she had to have before she was allowed to set one foot inside Whitmore Opals.

Nathan’s cleverness, for want of a better word, lay in his ability to psychoanalyse people and play on their weaknesses.

From the word go, poor Byron had believed Nathan had turned over a new leaf where his morals were concerned. Pity her father hadn’t kept his eyes open to what had happened around his own home from the moment he brought that walking phallic symbol into Belleview all those years ago.

But Byron hadn’t, perhaps because he’d rarely been home himself. The head of Whitmore Opals was a workaholic of the worst kind, meaning well, but invariably neglectful of his family except in short bossy bursts. He was also totally ignorant of their true feelings and real natures. Even when it came to Nathan’s marriage, Byron had a tendency to blame Lenore for everything from its shotgun beginning to its inevitable demise. As if any woman other than the most martyrish could endure marriage to a machine. Yes, Byron was blind to the real Nathan.

But that was understandable. Nathan could make others believe he was something he wasn’t if it meant achieving one of his selfish ends. Look at how she’d adored him for years. Hero-worshipped him. Loved him.

She’d thought he’d at least liked her back. What he’d liked was wallowing in her unthreatening adoration, the adoration of a little girl. Now that she was a woman, with a woman’s needs and desires, he’d turned on her. Not because he didn’t desire her. She knew he did. My God, he’d had to scrape up every ounce of that amazing will-power of his to stop making love to her that afternoon a few months ago. But he’d managed, because an affair with her would have endangered what he desired more: Whitmore Opals. The Whitmore fortune.

With Jade being Byron’s only natural-born child and a female to boot, Nathan probably figured he had a good chance of inheriting at least control of Whitmore’s. Byron was a chauvinist of the first order who believed a woman’s place was in the home, most certainly not in the boardroom of a company! His tirades against women like Celeste Campbell were never-ending.

Jade secretly admired the female head of Campbell Jewels. The woman was bold and beautiful, and more than a little brazen in the way she conducted her private life. But so what? If she’d been a man, there wouldn’t be a whimper of protest or criticism. Alas, however, Celeste was a woman, and the old double standards applied. Her usually younger lovers were denigrated as toy-boys. She was slyly called a slut.

Which was what Nathan had said she was in danger of becoming, Jade recalled with a twisting inside. Now that was the pot calling the kettle black in her opinion! And not true, either. She could count her so-called lovers on one hand, and still have enough fingers left over to play ‘Chopsticks’!

An angry indignation had her grabbing a towel from the nearby rail. But when she started vigorously rubbing herself dry, her bruised breasts moaned a protest. Looking down at them again, she suddenly burst into tears.

It took quite a while before Jade felt sufficiently in control to leave the sanctuary of her bedroom and face her family.

The house seemed unnaturally quiet as she made her way slowly down the huge sweeping staircase. Where was everyone? Sighing, she headed for the kitchen and laundry wing, where Melanie was sure to be located.

Jade was right. Belleview’s highly efficient housekeeper was filling the dishwasher, looking her usual stark self, and quite out of place in the newly renovated all-white kitchen with its bright shiny surfaces. One could well imagine Melanie, with her solemn Madonna face, prim black top-knot and severe black dress, as the housekeeper in a Gothic novel, gliding silently through dimly lit rooms, the only lights in those dead black eyes of hers the flickering reflection of the candle she was holding.

Jade gave a little shiver at this highly evocative and almost frightening scenario.

Melanie straightened, turned and saw her. ‘Hello, Jade,’ the housekeeper greeted her in that expressionless voice of hers. ‘I put your car around in the garages for you. You seemed to have a little trouble finding them last night,’ she finished drily.

‘What? Oh...oh, yes. Thanks, I was a little—er...’

‘Blind?’ Melanie suggested.

Jade laughed. If there was one thing she could count on at home, it was everyone’s bad opinion. There would be no sympathy here, no understanding. Her reputation was totally shot around Belleview. What would be the point in telling Melanie that the sight of home with its solid safe walls had flooded her eyes with tears last night, making her run off the circular driveway, across the front lawn and into the cement surrounds of the large, lily-filled pond? Or that, still terribly shaken from her ordeal, she’d left her car there and staggered inside, taken more sleeping tablets than was good for her and crashed into blessed oblivion?

‘Will you be staying for dinner tonight?’ the housekeeper asked.

‘If it’s all right with you.’ She was hoping to inveigle Nathan into going back with her to her unit tomorrow to see if Roberto and co were still there. Big brothers—even adopted ones who despised you—had to be good for something.

Melanie shrugged. ‘Whatever. I have tomorrow off, though. You’ll have to do for yourself or get Ava to cook for you.’

‘Good God, no. Auntie’s cooking is even worse than her watercolours. I’ll rustle something up myself. Where is the old dear, by the way? And everyone else, for that matter? This place is like a morgue today.’

The housekeeper looked up with those dull black eyes of hers, giving Jade a droll glance before turning away to start loading the dishwasher. The clock on the oven said two-fifty, Jade noticed. The sleeping tablets had knocked her out for nearly twelve hours.

‘Nathan’s not here, if that’s who you’ve come looking for,’ Melanie informed her. ‘He’s taken Kirsty and Gemma with him to the beach-house at Avoca for the weekend.’

‘Gemma?’ The name was vaguely familiar but she couldn’t place it. ‘Who’s Gemma?’ Jade asked, ignoring Melanie’s assumption she’d come visiting just to see Nathan.

‘Kirsty’s minder. Kirsty’s living here for a while.’

‘Oh? Why’s that? Lenore found herself a lover at last?’

Jade suspected that after twelve years married to Nathan Lenore might find it hard to replace her husband with another man. From what she’d heard—and her own limited experience with him—the man was dynamite in bed.

‘I have no idea what Lenore’s private life is like,’ Melanie said with cool rebuke in her voice. ‘She was simply fed up with Kirsty’s behaviour and thought a few weeks with her father might do her good. But with Nathan working late at Whitmore’s every day, he felt he had to hire someone to personally supervise Kirsty before and after school.’

Jade laughed. ‘I’ll bet Kirsty just loves having a minder at fourteen.’ Suddenly, the penny dropped on where she’d heard that name. ‘This Gemma person wouldn’t happen to be a lush young thing with big brown eyes, would she?’

Melanie’s eyes snapped round, confirming Jade’s intuitive guess.

‘I happened to drop by a couple of weeks back,’ Jade elaborated wryly. ‘Nathan was just getting out of his car with the aforesaid nymph sitting in the passenger seat, looking as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. Nathan was doing a good imitation of a protective father figure but he didn’t fool me for a second. I take it she’s living in?’

Melanie nodded, and so did Jade. Slowly. Cynically.

‘I’ll bet she’s not the same innocent young thing today that she was a couple of weeks ago.’

‘I wouldn’t bet too heavily on that,’ Melanie said. ‘Gemma’s a strong-minded young woman with a wealth of character.’

‘She’ll need to be,’ Jade muttered, surprised by Melanie’s defence of this Gemma. And her confidence in the girl’s will-power. Despite her deadpan exterior, Melanie was still a woman. She couldn’t be ignorant of the magnetism of Nathan’s sex appeal, even if only as an observer. The answer to the housekeeper’s high opinion of the girl had to lie in the girl herself.

‘So tell me about her,’ Jade resumed, her curiosity piqued. ‘Where did Nathan come across this gem of a Gemma?’

Melanie looked up. ‘Careful...your claws are showing.’

Jade laughed, recognising the truth of this statement. Her feelings for Nathan perhaps weren’t as vanquished as she’d thought they were.

‘OK, OK,’ she agreed. ‘I sound like a jealous cat. So where does she come from?’

‘Lightning Ridge.’

‘The opal town way out back of Bourke?’

‘That’s the one. Nathan was out there buying opals for Byron and Gemma sold him some. It seems her father had just been accidentally killed—fell down a mine shaft—and she was selling up everything to come to Sydney. Nathan made her the offer of a job if she ever needed one.’

‘Which she took him up on, of course,’ Jade said ruefully. ‘What girl wouldn’t, after meeting Nathan? Say no more, I get the picture entirely.’

The housekeeper’s sigh sounded exasperated.

‘You can sigh, Melanie, but I saw the way that girl looked at Nathan the other week. Are you telling me she’s not smitten by our resident Casanova?’

‘All I’m saying is that she’s not a pushover.’

‘Meaning I am?’

Melanie gave her a sharp look. ‘Don’t go putting words into my mouth, Jade. You know better than anyone what sort of girl you are. I wouldn’t dream of making such a judgement. I’ve only known you two years, six months of which you haven’t even been living in this house. You weren’t home much, even when you were living here.’

Jade’s laugh was wry. ‘I don’t need to live here in person for you to have found out all the dirt on me. My mother used to adore telling everyone how bad I was. And it’s all true. The climbing out of windows to meet boys in the middle of the night when I was only fifteen. Everything! I’m a bad ‘un, Melanie. No doubt about it.’

‘You and I both know you’re not nearly as bad as you pretend to be, Jade,’ Melanie astonished her by saying. ‘Your teenage rebellions were revenge on your parents for their supposed lack of love, as well as some other imagined—or even real—transgressions.’

‘My,’ Jade returned caustically, ‘What are you? The resident psychoanalyst around here?’

‘I’ve had my share of experience with analysis,’ Melanie said with not a flicker of retaliatory emotion.

Sympathy for this sad, soul-dead creature replaced Jade’s anger. She knew about Melanie’s past, how her husband and baby son had been killed in a car accident right before her eyes. It had been a horrific tragedy.

Yet while Jade could appreciate the numbing effect that would have on any wife and mother, it had been years now, for heaven’s sake. Time to live again. Either that or put yourself out of your misery and throw yourself off a cliff or something.

Jade knew she herself would never commit suicide. She refused to let life get her that down. Life was meant to be lived, and, goddammit, she was going to live hers. To hell with her father, and Nathan, and even what had happened last night. And to hell with her mother. Irene was already probably in hell, anyway!

‘Are you all right, Jade?’ Melanie asked.

‘Yes, of course.’ She blinked rapidly, then tossed her head in memory of when her hair had recently been long and brown. After Nathan’s rejection she had gone out and had most of her hair cut off, the remainder dyed whipped-cream blonde, shaved at the sides and spiked on top. Oddly, the outrageous style and colour suited her. Men now pursued her even more than they had before. ‘I’m fine,’ she lied blithely.

‘You don’t look fine. You look terrible.’

‘Oh, that’s just because of the sleeping tablets I took last night. They always leave me dopey the next day.’

‘You shouldn’t be taking sleeping tablets,’ Melanie reproached seriously. ‘You shouldn’t even have them in your possession. They’re like having a loaded gun around. People say they never mean to shoot anyone but if they didn’t own a gun they couldn’t. Same thing with sleeping tablets.’

Jade stared at the housekeeper, and wondered if she had once overdosed on sleeping tablets. Unexpectedly, Jade felt the urge to try to make friends with this woman whom she’d always pitied but never really liked. Now, she wanted to extend the hand of friendship, to see if she could help her in some way. But what to say, how to start? They were hardly of the same generation. Melanie had to be over thirty. If not, she sure looked it!

‘Let’s not talk of nasties,’ Jade started up in her best breezy voice. ‘How’s things going with Auntie Ava? I presume she’s up in that studio of hers, fantasising about Prince Charming sweeping into her life on a white charger. Has she finished any of those infernal paintings of hers, yet?’

‘I would have thought your first concern would be your father, Jade, not your aunt.’

‘I said no nasties, remember. Hopefully, Pops will stay put in that hospital a while longer. I can just about tolerate visiting him there. It’s rather amusing seeing him trussed up in that pristine white bed with his leg in a sling. Of course, I haven’t seen him for over a fortnight. We had the most frightful row over my appearance and that was that. What’s he done? Has he been a bad boy? Banged up his leg again trying to seduce one of the nurses? He certainly wouldn’t have tried it on the matron. What a tartar that woman is!’

Melanie smiled at Jade’s ravings, shocking Jade. Why, the woman was quite striking when she smiled, with dazzling white teeth and eyes like glittering jet jewels. Not only striking, but sensual. The mock scenario of Byron trying to seduce the nurses seemed to have tickled the housekeeper’s fancy, lending a decidedly sexy flavour to her smile.

Now Jade was floored. Melanie... Sexy? The idea was preposterous. And yet...

Jade looked at the housekeeper, really looked at her, mentally stripping away that shapeless black dress, trying to see the real woman behind the sexless façde. Her slender shoulders were broad, her breasts full, her waist and hips trim. And when she bent down over the dishwasher, her buttocks showed shapely and firm through the black gabardine. Her knees—what Jade could see of them—were very nice indeed. As were her ankles. Those ghastly thick beige stockings distracted from, but not entirely hid, the slender coltish lines of the legs inside them.

Jade tried to imagine what Melanie would look like in a slinky black dress, scarlet gloss on that sultry mouth of hers and sexy earrings swinging around that long white neck she had. Everyone’s eyes round Belleview would fall right out of their sockets, her father included. He wouldn’t recognise his prim and proper housekeeper.

A sudden memory stabbed at Jade’s heart before the corner of her mouth lifted in a cynical smirk. It was just as well, perhaps, that Melanie was as she was, considering what had happened between the last housekeeper and the master of Belleview. Catching her father with that woman in his arms had come as a dreadful shock to Jade. Her god of a father, high on his pedestal—or was it podium?—always preaching about character and control and moral standards. Her father, having an affair with his housekeeper while his manic depressive wife was safely installed in a sanatorium somewhere.

He’d tried to explain everything away, saying he hadn’t actually slept with the woman, saying he’d kissed her in a moment of weakness. Jade had not accused. She’d simply stood there, not listening, refusing to understand, unable to forgive, regardless of the circumstances. She couldn’t abide parents who had the policy of ‘don’t do as I do, do as I say.’

She’d been just twenty at the time. Her father had dismissed the unfortunate woman—another injustice, she believed—and hired Melanie. But Jade had never looked at her father in the same way again. Neither had she taken a blind bit of notice of anything he tried to tell her. She went her own way, did her own thing. She had her own code of right and wrong, and had never hurt anyone as she was sure he had. He, and Nathan. They were the hurters, the despoilers.

Jade frowned as her mind shifted uncomfortably to her mother.

No, she decided abruptly. I will not make excuses. For either of them. For any of them!

An alien tap-tapping sound click-clacked somewhere in the house. Not recognising it, Jade swivelled on the kitchen stool she was perched up on, only to see her father making his way across the family-room, a walking cane in his right hand.

Their eyes met simultaneously through the open doorway, Jade’s widening as Byron’s narrowed. He looked hopping mad.

‘You didn’t give me a chance to tell you,’ Melanie said quietly from the other side of the breakfast bar. ‘Your father came home from the hospital yesterday.’

CHAPTER TWO

‘YOU’VE changed your mind, it seems, about darkening this doorstep again,’ Byron barked at his daughter.

‘And hi to you, Pops,’ Jade said with a flipness she fell into when at her most stressed. What on earth was her father doing home from hospital? A fortnight ago they’d said his leg wasn’t mending properly and he’d be stuck in there for another month at least. She should have known he’d prove them wrong. ‘You thinking of auditioning for the part of Long John Silver?’ she quipped airily, waving at the walking cane.

Byron hobbled into the kitchen, still scowling at his daughter. ‘One day you’ll use that sassy mouth of yours on the wrong person. I hope I’m around to see it. Melanie, I’m expecting a visitor shortly. A Mr Armstrong. Show him into my study when he arrives, will you? And we’ll be wanting coffee. Or tea, if he prefers. Ask him.’

‘Certainly, Bryon. Will this Mr Armstrong be staying to dinner?’

‘Maybe. Maybe not. I’ll have to let you know.’

‘And who is Mr Armstrong?’ Jade asked, the name not at all familiar.

Byron’s hard blue eyes swung back to his daughter. ‘No one you know.’ He looked her up and down, his upper lip curling with disgust at her appearance. ‘Good God, girl, don’t you ever wear a bra?’ And, spinning round on his good leg, he limped off.

She pulled a face at his disappearing back. She did wear a bra...once every hundred years or so.

Admittedly, the ribbed pink vest-top she was wearing moulded her well-rounded breasts like a second skin, her nipples outlined and emphasised. But she hadn’t brought any clothes with her and all that was in her wardrobe were things she hadn’t worn for years, most of which were a little tight on her. She’d gone through a semi-anorexic stage back in her teens, till the loss of half her boobs had brought her up with a jolt. Horrified, she’d quickly eaten up till she was back to her shapely self, substituting the dieting with aerobics and weight-training. Her figure had steadily gone from gaunt to good to great. She was quite proud of it and had no intention of hiding her hard-earned shape under dowdy matronly clothes. Lord, she was only twenty-two, not fifty-two!

Sliding from the kitchen stool, however, reminded her that the jeans she had on were close to obscene, they were so tight. Maybe she should hunt out something of Auntie Ava’s to put on. The old dear was always buying things in sales that were several sizes too small.

Jade was on the way through the family-room, heading in the direction of the front hall when the doorbell rang. ‘I’ll get it, Melanie,’ she shouted back over her shoulder. ‘It’s sure to be the mysterious Mr Armstrong.’

‘Find out if he’s staying to dinner, will you, Jade?’ Melanie called back. ‘And if he wants tea or coffee.’

‘Will do.’

She was whistling when she opened the door, her whistle changing to a low wolf-whistle as she took in the man standing there. God, but he was gorgeous! Tall, without being too tall, black curly hair, olive skin, lean saturnine features and piercing black eyes. His thick dark eyelashes were curly too, the bottom ones resting on high cheekbones that looked as if they’d been carved in stone.

He looked as if he’d been carved in stone, so still was he. And so totally unaffected by her none too subtle whistle.

Jade thought she detected the slightest flicker of something when his hard gaze raked over her eyecatching form. But if he was in any way impressed by what he saw he certainly didn’t show it. Instead, there was a fractional lifting of his already sardonically arched eyebrows before he spoke in a voice reminiscent of Melanie’s for its lack of emotion.

‘Good afternoon,’ he said coolly. ‘Mr Whitmore is expecting me. Kyle Armstrong.’

I wonder if there’s a Mrs Armstrong, was Jade’s first thought, not at all put out by the man’s apparent indifference to her charms. Nothing like a good challenge. It would make for a pleasant change. But she never tampered with married men. That was one of the lines she drew.

Pity other people didn’t, she thought bitterly.

Her attention returned to the man before her. He wasn’t wearing a wedding-ring but he was too good-looking not to be married. Taking a wild stab at his age, she came up with somewhere between twenty-eight and thirty-two. She was always hopeless at ages. She’d thought Roberto around thirty and he’d been closer to forty!

‘Good afternoon, Mr Armstrong,’ she greeted, holding out her hand and flashing him one of her most winning smiles. Her dentist had every reason to be proud of the perfectly even white teeth she displayed. ‘Yes, my father mentioned he was expecting you. Do come in. I’ll take you to him.’

Her smile turned slightly smug at Mr Armstrong’s startled reaction to her announcing her relationship with the man he’d come to see. Possibly, he expected any daughter of the wealthy Byron Whitmore to be dressed a little more classily. Or maybe he hadn’t known Byron had a daughter?

Now that was an interesting speculation. Still, Jade appreciated her father wouldn’t go round proudly showing her photograph to every Tom, Dick and Harry. He was probably terrified one of them might recognise her as the little bit of fluff they’d had one night. After all, if she’d slept with as many men as her father and Nathan presumed, Byron was bound to come across one sooner or later!

Jade brushed aside the jab of dismay this thinking brought and wondered for the first time what business the gorgeous Mr Armstrong was in. He had to be calling on business. Why else would he be dressed in a dark grey suit on a hot Saturday afternoon? Besides, her father was not one for male friends of the personal kind. He was close to Nathan, and had a type of friendship with Zachary Marsden. But that too was partly business. Zachary had been the Whitmores’ legal advisor for as long as she could remember.

Jade shut the front door and turned to their guest. He was no longer looking at her but was glancing around the house. Assessingly, she thought.

‘This way...’ She waved him along the downstairs hall that went under the staircase. Byron’s study being the second last door on the right. ‘Mr. Armstrong...’ She began as they walked side by side.

‘Kyle,’ he returned coolly. ‘Call me Kyle.’

‘How nice. Kyle, then.’ She smiled over at him. ‘And I’m Jade.’

‘Jade,’ he repeated, but said nothing more. He didn’t smile back, either.

Jade felt a momentary irritation. She didn’t like men she couldn’t read, or who didn’t react the way she expected them to. It came to her abruptly that she didn’t like men who were challenges after all. She much preferred men who fell victim to her charms immediately, and who pursued her doggedly. She enjoyed leading them a merry dance, making them almost beg for her favours, favours she did not bestow left, right and centre, au contraire to popular opinion.

She slid a sidewards glance over at the man beside her. In profile, he was not as pretty. His nose was sharp. His chin jutted stubbornly. He was not a man to beg for anything, of that she was certain. He was also staring steadfastly forward as they walked along the hallway together.

But if Jade’s mind found Mr Armstrong’s rude indifference highly offputting, her body did not. Just looking at him was making her stomach curl with a quite alien sensation. Dear God, but she would give anything to have him want her as she was suddenly wanting him.

Jade only managed to stop herself gasping in shock. For she had never really wanted a man like that in her entire life!

Oh, yes, she’d once been mad about the opposite sex, thriving on the dizzying excitement of being desired and needed and loved. But she’d been very young then, a teenager desperately looking for love and attention and approval, finding substitutes for all three in the kisses and arms of her boyfriends.

But she’d only had two actual lovers during her teenage years, not a zillion, her last serious relationship breaking up well before Nathan came back to Belleview to live after his separation from Lenore. That was when Jade’s hero worship for her adopted brother had flared to a full-blown infatuation, and, while her feelings for Nathan had seemed part sexual at the time, she could see now that they hadn’t touched the surface of real desire. Real desire was what she was feeling at this moment.

Yes, she’d tried to seduce Nathan, but not looking for sexual satisfaction—frankly, she’d never found intercourse at all memorable—but as a way to recapture his love and attention, the love and attention he’d once bestowed on her as a child and which had made her young life bearable. Admittedly, after that first bold kiss of hers, he’d quickly turned the tables on her, taking the initiative and managing to arouse her quite stunningly before he’d abruptly terminated the encounter. Her body had undoubtedly been left aching with physical frustration, which might explain why she’d raced precipitately into the arms of a new admirer a couple of days later.

The next morning, however, she’d felt ashamed of herself for the first time in her life. She’d only met the man the previous night at a party, where admittedly she’d had too much to drink. Not that that was any excuse. At least, she hadn’t gone out with him again.

There had been several admirers since. But none had persuaded her into his bed.

Jade conceded, however, that Kyle Armstrong would not have much trouble doing just that.

Suddenly, she hoped he was married. That would put an end to this amazingly intense desire he’d somehow managed to spark in her. Her whole body felt tense and tingling by the time she stopped outside the study door and knocked.

‘Yes,’ boomed her father.

Opening the door, she popped her head inside. ‘Mr Armstrong is here.’

‘Well, bring him in, girl. Don’t stand there looking ridiculous.’

Gritting her teeth, Jade threw open the door and waved their visitor inside.

He went, not giving her a second look. She was disgusted to find her heart was still racing and that her eyes were clinging to the back of that dark grey suit, to the way it fitted his nicely shaped shoulders like a glove. Jade had been on the end of undressing eyes from men before, but she’d never been guilty of doing such a thing herself. She was very definitely undressing Kyle Armstrong in her mind at that moment, however, and the results were unnerving. How was he managing to exude such a potent sexuality without even trying?

‘Don’t get up, Mr Whitmore,’ Kyle said when Byron started struggling to his feet behind the huge desk. Striding over, he outstretched his long arm to shake Byron’s hand. ‘I’m so glad to meet you at last, sir. Talking on the telephone is not the same, is it?’

Jade saw her father look his guest up and down. Clearly, he liked what he saw almost as much as she did.

‘It certainly isn’t, my boy,’ he said.

Jade dropped his age down to twenty-six or -seven. Her father would not call a man close to thirty...my boy.

‘You were just leaving, Jade?’ Byron snapped, making her seethe inside. How dared he dismiss her so rudely?

She delivered a saccharine smile his way. ‘Melanie asked me to ask if Kyle was staying for dinner. Also, if he preferred tea or coffee.’

‘You know Kyle here?’ Byron ground out.

‘Not till a minute ago,’ she replied sweetly. And make of that what you will, you horny old hypocrite.

‘Ah...’

His obvious relief infuriated the life out of her. ‘Well?’ she said sharply.

‘What about it, Kyle? Can you stay for dinner? I’d like you to. I doubt if we’ll have finished our discussions till then.’

‘I’d love to stay,’ he replied politely, still not looking at Jade. Suddenly, she felt like slapping his coolly supercilious face. Though poisoning would be better. She might slip some hemlock in his wine tonight.

But then she thought of a better vengeance for this snooty pair. Her father wanted her to wear a bra. Well, she would! At dinner tonight. A quite spectacular bejewelled corselette number that she’d bought for a fancydress costume a few years back and which would undoubtedly be at least one size too small. By God, if those unflappable dark eyes didn’t fall out of their sockets when she walked into the dining-room wearing that, then she wasn’t the girl voted most likely not to be a virgin in her last year at St Brigit’s girls school.

‘Tea or coffee?’ she asked with the simpering sweetness of a Southern belle, fluttering her eyelashes when Kyle turned to glance her way at last.

‘Coffee. Black, no sugar.’

Not a twitch. Not a flicker, either of irritation or amusement or anything. The man was a robot, she decided. A cold lifeless sexless robot. How could she have possibly thought he was sexy a moment ago?

But he was, she groaned silently. He most definitely was. God!

It struck Jade quite forcibly then that he couldn’t be married. Married men always showed interest in her. Always.

She stared at him for a long moment with angry eyes, then, whirling, left the room, slamming the door behind her. ‘Pompous fool!’ she muttered aloud. ‘Arrogant bastard,’ she amended as she marched along the hallway. By the time she reached the kitchen, various other unprintable descriptions had found favour, the last one bringing Melanie’s eyes snapping up with startled surprise.

‘Goodness! Who are you referring to? Surely not your father!’

‘No. Kyle Armstrong. Mr. Cool-as-a-cucumber.’

‘Oh, I see. You found him attractive and he didn’t respond accordingly.’

When Jade glared outrage at Melanie, the housekeeper actually laughed. Once again, Jade was struck by the transformation in the woman once she abandoned her icy façade. What Melanie needed to snap her out of the past was some man to come along who could make her smile and laugh again. Laughter made life bearable.

Jade wagged a finger at Melanie. ‘I haven’t given up yet,’ she warned. ‘Mr Armstrong’s staying for dinner.’

‘Is he, now? And what are you going to do, come down to dinner in your birthday suit?’

‘Not quite.’

‘Has it ever occurred to you that some men just don’t like women who are obvious in their pursuit of them?’

Jade declined telling Melanie that it didn’t work if you dressed like a nun and acted like a corpse, either. ‘I don’t intend chasing the man. I simply want him to see what he could have if he chased me!’

‘And what if he doesn’t choose to chase you? What if he likes more subtle women whose clothing hints at their charms rather than shoves it in their faces?’

‘I don’t shove my charms in men’s faces!’ Jade protested.

‘Don’t you?’ Melanie’s eyes slid drily over the skintight jeans and top. ‘Look, Jade, you can get away with things at university that the more mature world won’t tolerate kindly. How old is this Mr Armstrong?’

Jade shrugged. ‘Late twenties, I think. But he acts like he’s pushing forty.’

Melanie smiled. ‘In that case, if you want to attract his attention, perhaps you should adopt a more mature fashion sense and attitude.’

‘I’d rather be dead than dress and act like some snobbish society bitch,’ she pouted. ‘They all look the same, as if they’ve been poured out of a mould. If Mr Kyle Armstrong doesn’t like the way I am then he can drop dead. I won’t play ice princess for any man.’

‘Then you’d better resign yourself to losing out this time.’

‘We’ll see,’ Jade bit out, and went to leave. ‘Oh, by the way,’ she added, stopping to look back over her shoulder. ‘He likes coffee. Black, no sugar. Same as me.’

With that, she stalked from the kitchen, determined strides carrying her across the family-room to the front foyer, up the stairs two at a time and along the picture-lined gallery down to Ava’s studio. Bursting in without knocking, she threw a greeting at her startled aunt before plonking herself down on the much used divan. With a disgruntled sigh, she rearranged the many pillows and lay down, stretching out her long legs.

‘I’ve had it with Pops, Auntie,’ she grumbled. ‘Really had it!’

‘Tell me something new, Jade, dear.’ Ava put down her paintbrush and wandered over to stare down at her niece. She took one look at the dark smudges under the girl’s eyes and felt a surge of sympathy. She’d always liked Jade, felt the girl had got a raw deal in life with Irene as a mother and Byron as a father. Things hadn’t improved much with Byron bringing Nathan home, either. Having someone like Nathan as an adopted brother was no help at all. Ava had been relieved when Jade finally left home. Nothing like having to do for oneself to make one grow up, and grow.

Ava silently wished she had the courage to buck her big brother’s controlling hand and do the same. But it was too late for her. Far too late...

‘At least you don’t have to stay, if your father annoys you, dear. Why are you here, by the way? Melanie told me at breakfast that you’d come home during the night.’

Ava was shocked by the haunted, almost horrified look that zoomed into her niece’s dark blue eyes. But the fear vanished almost before Ava could be sure that was what she’d seen, replaced by one of Jade’s nonchalant c’est la vie expressions. Ava had always admired the girl’s courage and spirit, but it worried her that she buried far too many problems behind that good-time-girl persona. Clearly, something had happened last night to send Jade running for home like a frightened child. But she knew Jade too well to hope she’d confide in her stuffy old aunt.

‘Oh, just thought I’d drop in and see how the old family was doing,’ Jade said, waving an airy hand. ‘I didn’t know Pops was home, of course. Or that Nathan had escaped to Avoca with his daughter and his girlfriend.’

Ava frowned. ‘Girlfriend? Oh, you mean Gemma. She’s not Nathan’s girlfriend, Jade, she’s—’

‘Kirsty’s minder,’ Jade broke in drily. ‘Yes, I gather that’s the occupation she goes under. But you and I both know, Auntie, that she’ll be providing some extra services before long.’

‘I think that is Nathan and Gemma’s business, don’t you?’ Ava rebuked gently. ‘After all, Nathan’s divorced and Gemma’s single.’

‘Single! She’s barely out of nappies.’

‘She’s nearly twenty, Jade, only two years your junior. You didn’t seem to think Nathan was too old for you a while back.’

‘Auntie!’ Jade mocked. ‘Have you been spying on me?’

‘One hardly needs to spy on you, Jade, dear. You flaunt your feelings for all to see. You flaunt your other attributes as well,’ she added, casting an acerbic eye over the girl’s eyecatching and obviously braless figure.

For once, her niece seemed bothered by criticism over her appearance. Normally, she responded by being even more outrageous.

Jade sat up, glancing down at her body with a frown on her face. ‘Melanie was saying much of the same a minute ago,’ she muttered unhappily. ‘But honestly, Auntie, I don’t like stuffy clothes. And I don’t like stuffy people, especially stuffy men!’

Ava laughed. ‘What man’s been putting your nose out of joint?’

‘Some nerd Pops is holed up with in his study. Do you know him? He goes by the name of Mr Kyle Armstrong.’

‘Ah...the whizkid from Tasmania.’

‘And?’

Ava walked back over to sit down at her easel. She picked up her paintbrush and started dabbing before she satisfied Jade’s curiosity. ‘Can’t tell you much. He’s a marketing expert your father is thinking of hiring to jazz up Whitmore Opals.’

‘Jazz up? That man couldn’t jazz up anything. If Pops wants someone to jazz up Whitmore Opals why doesn’t he hire someone with a bit of flair, someone modern and really young? Someone like me! I’m specialising in marketing at uni this year. I’ll have my degree in November. God, I don’t believe this. I’m so mad I could spit.’ She jumped to her feet and started pacing the room.

‘One is hardly likely to hire an undergraduate for head of marketing, Jade,’ her aunt advised logically.

But Jade didn’t feel logical. Fury and resentment were firing her blood. Not only did she have Nathan coveting control of the entire Whitmore fortune—the family had fingers in many pies besides opals—now she had her father overlooking his own daughter to hire some pompous upstart into the very job she’d been going to invent herself after she’d gained her marketing degree. Up till this point, Whitmore Opals didn’t even have a marketing section, let alone a head of it. Byron had been only too happy to be head of everything: managing, selling, marketing, buying, advertising.

Jade’s temper was reaching boiling point when she suddenly realised this could be turned to her advantage. Why, if she played her cards right, she might be able to get the super-cool and undoubtedly ambitious Mr Armstrong on her side. By reminding him on the sly that she was the boss’s daughter and a marketing undergraduate, she might be able to con him into letting her work part-time in the office, so gaining some valuable training. Maybe once she showed her father she could be as clever and competent as any man, he would relinquish that stupid old-fashioned idea that a woman had no place in business.

Of course, to achieve such an end, she would have to present a slightly more conservative image, as Melanie had suggested. Any thought of wearing that ridiculously provocative corselette would have to be abandoned. She might even have to wear a normal bra.

‘Auntie,’ she said slowly, ‘you wouldn’t mind if I looked through your wardrobe, would you? I might borrow something for dinner tonight. Mr Armstrong is dining with us.’

‘I think you’ll find it a bit depleted, dear. I gave everything that didn’t fit me to Gemma.’

Jade couldn’t believe it. What kind of girl was this Gemma person that everyone was so taken with her? No doubt her own father thought she was just the ants’ pants, not like his own cheap, vulgar tramp of a daughter. God, she hoped Nathan hurried up and corrupted that girl. And she hoped everyone found out about it, including her father.

Grumbling under her breath, she decided there was nothing else to do but go downstairs and throw herself on Melanie’s mercy. The woman had to have something in her wardrobe besides those hideous black dresses she always wore.

Before she left, she wandered over to look at her aunt’s painting.

‘Hey,’ she said, surprise in her voice. ‘That’s rather good. You must be improving, Auntie.’

‘Either that, or your taste is,’ Ava countered with uncharacteristic wit. She and her niece exchanged startled glances.

‘Goodness, Auntie,’ Jade laughed. ‘That was quick.’

‘Yes, it was, wasn’t it?’

Jade gave her a considering look. ‘You seem happier, do you know that?’

‘You could be right. The whole house has been happier since Gemma came to live here.’

‘God, not that girl again! I’ll have to meet this paragon of perfection soon or I’ll explode with envy and irritation!’

Now Ava laughed. ‘She’ll have you eating out of her hand in no time, just as she has everyone else.’

‘I wouldn’t bet on that if I were you, Auntie.’ And, thinking darkly jealous thoughts, Jade marched from the room.

* * *

Gemma propped herself up on one elbow and looked down at the naked man sleeping beside her. He was so beautiful.

Her eyes caressed his perfect profile, his gorgeous golden hair, tousled at the moment, and that glorious mouth, full-lipped and sensual but not at all feminine. There wasn’t a feminine bone in Nathan Whitmore’s beautiful bronzed body.

Hard to believe he was thirty-five.

Hard to believe that less than an hour ago she had been a fear-filled, quivering virgin.

Hard to believe he wanted to marry her, a silly little country girl not yet twenty. She couldn’t believe her luck.

‘You’re making me self-conscious, staring at me like that,’ he murmured, his left eye flicking half open.

‘Oh! I...I thought you’d fallen asleep.’

‘Just resting,’ he whispered, and reached for her.

Gemma gave herself up momentarily to the excitement of his kisses, but as soon as he lifted his mouth to take a breath, she wriggled out of his arms and away from further temptation.

‘We have to stop, Nathan,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Kirsty might come back from the beach at any moment. She’s been gone over an hour. It’s nearly three.’

It was only by chance that Gemma wasn’t down at the beach with Kirsty. But she hadn’t liked the sea; hadn’t liked it at all.

‘Kirsty never leaves the beach till the sun goes down,’ Nathan reassured her. ‘Still, it’s possible, I suppose, and I wouldn’t want her to catch us together like this.’ He trickled a hand over Gemma’s breasts, smiling softly as an involuntary tremor rippled through her. ‘My own lovely little Gemma,’ he said, and bent to flick a moist fingertip over the nearest erect nipple. ‘Do you realise we’ll have all night together now that Kirsty’s going to that movie marathon?’

Gemma tried to dampen down her excitement at such a prospect to focus on Nathan’s daughter. ‘I’m not sure Lenore would be happy with Kirsty going to an all-night movie session, Nathan. She’s only fourteen, after all. Not only that, she’s supposed to be grounded for another week.’

At the mention of his ex-wife, Nathan scowled and rolled away, planting angry feet on the floor beside the bed. ‘I’ll make the decisions for my daughter while she’s under my roof. Lenore can go jump.’

Gemma was taken aback by Nathan’s burst of temper, so unlike his usual cool self. Her mind flashed to that kiss she’d witnessed between him and his ex-wife less than two weeks before, on the very first night she’d come to Belleview. It had been one of the main reasons she’d fought her attraction for Nathan, thinking he was still in love with Lenore. The passion of the last hour had deflected her mind away from any earlier doubts, but now the possibility that the man she loved still harboured strong feelings for the woman he’d been married to for twelve years raised its ugly head again.

‘She’s Kirsty’s mother,’ Gemma argued unhappily. ‘I think her feelings have to be considered.’

Nathan started pulling on his clothes, his actions jerky. ‘As if that selfish bitch has got any real feelings,’ he muttered.

Gemma stared at him. When Nathan saw her shocked expression he leant back over the bed to cup her chin and kiss her lightly on the mouth. ‘Not like you, my darling girl. You have more feeling in your little finger than Lenore has in her whole body.’

Then why were you kissing her less than two weeks ago as if you wanted to devour her? she was dying to ask. Instead, she said tremulously, ‘You do love me, don’t you, Nathan?’

‘Love you? I adore you.’ His mouth returned to hers, demanding and hungry. He groaned and pushed her back on the pillows.

‘Nathan, we can’t!’ she gasped.

‘There’s no such thing as can’t, Gemma,’ he growled. ‘Only won’t.’ He buried his face between her breasts, then slowly slid downwards.

‘You...you shouldn’t,’ she managed in a weak whisper, both embarrassed and fascinated by what he was now doing. For a while the embarrassment won, her face flaming, her hands fluttering helplessly by her sides. But then sheer physical pleasure triumphed over any shock or shame. Her fingers started grasping the sheets on either side of her, and her mind spun out into a void of endless delight.

CHAPTER THREE

JADE surveyed her reflection in the mirror with mischievous satisfaction. Melanie had come through with a navy linen suit that would have looked ghastly if Jade had worn the white silk blouse with the tie at the throat that went with it. Instead, she’d filled the deep V neckline with a lacy pink camisole rescued from the depths of Auntie Ava’s wardrobe. The dear old thing had also produced a pair of dainty pink sandals with outrageously high heels, a relic from her partying days.

Digging deep in her own drawers, Jade had come up with some pink multi-disc earrings which she’d adored as a teenager but which hadn’t seen the light of day since. Oddly enough, they looked very effective with her new short blonde hair.

The combination of the sedate and the saucy produced a highly tantalising whole, which hinted—as Melanie and Ava had suggested—but was still sexy at the same time. Of course, Jade couldn’t resist the naughty little added touches, such as painting her toenails a vibrant pink, then leaving off tights. She’d also turned over the waistband of the knee-length pleated skirt a couple of times so that the hem swirled mid-thigh when she turned around. She made a mental note to turn around often.

Only once during her dressing did Jade’s mind whip back to the distressing events of the previous evening. Melanie had lent her a bra—they were around the same size—but Jade found her bruised breasts too sore to tolerate the constriction. For a moment, as she was forced to face her physical damage, fear swept in again, but this was swiftly followed by a bitter fury. Being a quivering victim was not Jade’s style. She gritted her teeth and vowed she would not let some pervert damage her mind. He could damage her body—that would heal!—but not her mind. Her mind was her own. She refused to have it warped or twisted. If she did, she might end up like her mother. Now there was a warped and twisted mind if ever there was one!

So with her freshly shampooed and moussed hair teased to its maximum height on top of her head, and enough Spellbound perfume on to cast a thousand spells, Jade swanned downstairs and along to the formal drawing-room where Melanie said her father was having pre-dinner drinks with his guest. The grandfather clock in the hall donged seven-thirty as Jade passed. Dinner had been ordered for eight.

Both men were sitting down when she sashayed in, her father on the green velvet sofa that faced the fireplace, while Mr Cool occupied one of the overstuffed brocade armchairs that flanked the marble hearth. There were no guesses which one drew her attention first.

Hell, but he looked as lethally attractive sitting there, sipping his drink, as did the drink he was sipping. By the colour, it had to be straight Johnny Walker. Jade conceded she could have done with a stiff drink herself right at that moment, her courage in danger of failing her. What was it about this man that rattled her so—the fact that she fancied him so badly, or that he didn’t fancy her at all?

She resisted licking suddenly dry lips and kept moving into the room, her skirt swishing around her bare legs, her eyes still on Kyle Armstrong, waiting for—no, hoping for—a favourable reaction to her vastly changed appearance.

His eyes lifted as she approached, locking with hers. They remained perfectly steady, showing nothing in their coal-black depths that she could read. But he didn’t turn his eyes away and oddly she gained the impression he was challenging her, no, compelling her to keep looking at him. Suddenly she felt the power of his mental strength, and her knees almost went from under her. This most uncharacteristic weakness unnerved Jade, unnerved then annoyed her.

Gathering herself, she shot him a bold smile, hoping to ruffle his equilibrium as much as his gypsy-eyed stare had ruffled hers. But he didn’t smile back, merely lifted his drink to his lips again, keeping up his cool assessment of her over the rim.

Jade found her smile fading and an amazing blush heating her cheeks. Totally rattled now, she wrenched her eyes away from him to land on her frowning father, who couldn’t seem to make up his mind whether he liked how she looked or not. She appreciated his ambivalence, and found amusement in it, thank heavens. She needed something to break this awful tension that had been invading her since entering the room.

‘Good evening, Father, dear,’ she said, abandoning her usual address of Pops. ‘Kyle,’ she added, inclining her head their guest’s way without actually meeting his eyes.

Both said good evening back as she continued over to the rosewood drinks cabinet, where she mixed herself a triple Scotch and ginger ale, taking a deep swallow before returning to make the twosome a far from cosy threesome.

Her father clicked his tongue impatiently when he had to move his cane for her to sit down next to him. ‘Did you finish whatever it was you had to finish?’ she enquired casually, crossing her legs and tucking her ankles back toward the base of the sofa.

‘I think we tied up everything to our mutual satisfaction, wouldn’t you say, Kyle?’ Byron conceded, his reply not really telling her anything.

‘Yes, indeed,’ came Mr Cool’s equally uninformative remark.

Piqued, Jade decided to put this chauvinistic pair on the spot. ‘Auntie Ava says Kyle is going to be the new head of marketing at Whitmore Opals—is that right?’

‘Damned woman,’ Byron muttered under his breath.

Jade laughed. ‘Did I hear right, Father, dear? Are you calling me a woman at last?’

His hard blue eyes turned her way. Clearly, he would have liked to tear strips off her for her impudence, but the presence of a guest stopped him. With a great effort of will, Byron relaxed back on the sofa and found a smile that should have warned her what was coming.

‘A real woman is more than a set of curves, daughter, dear,’ he said with poisonous pointedness.

‘So true, so true,’ she returned airily after taking another deep swallow of her drink. ‘And a real man is more than an impressive set of—er—muscles. Don’t you agree, Kyle?’ she finished, flashing him a mock-innocent smile.

Good God, was she imagining things or was that actually a twinkle of amusement in those implacable dark eyes of his? His mouth, however, maintained its habitual straight line, though he did cover it slightly by lifting his drink to his lips once more.

The glass retreated and yes, his mouth was as unmoved as before. ‘I most certainly do agree, Jade,’ he said smoothly. ‘And you’re right about that other matter as well. Byron has offered me the position as marketing manager and I have accepted.’

Most Australians didn’t move their lips much when they spoke. Kyle Armstrong, however, had a surprising mobile mouth when he talked, his voice clear, cultured and well enunciated, like an actor. It drew one’s attention to his mouth, and his lips.

Intriguing lips, those, Jade realised, her gaze fastening on them, the top one thin and cruel, the bottom soft and sensual. Which was the real man? God, she just had to find out. But how? He wasn’t at all impressed by her. Or interested.

Or was he?

Her eyes lifted to that enigmatic gaze of his, only to find it fixed on the expanse of tanned thigh she was showing. Jade’s heart began to beat faster. Maybe he was a little interested. Maybe he was just good at hiding it. Maybe it was only her father’s presence that stopped him from showing any interest. What was he wondering while he looked at her legs? Was he speculating what it might be like to get lost between them?

Jade found herself pressing her thighs tightly together, appalled by the escalating explicitness of her thoughts.

So this was lust, she thought dazedly.

This was one of the seven deadly sins.

No wonder people fell prey to its seductive power. She’d never felt so excited, so driven.

Once again, she started hoping that Kyle might be married, so that she had a good reason to fight this alien force that was possessing her.

‘Are you married, Kyle?’ she asked abruptly.

‘No,’ he said, his brows drawing slightly together as his eyes lifted to hers. ‘Why do you ask?’

Perversely, she was relieved by the news, which didn’t augur well for her future behaviour. Jade suspected she was about to embark on a course of action even more outrageous than any she’d ever been accused of. ‘I was just wondering what your wife—if you had one,’ she added with a husky laugh, ‘might think of her husband moving interstate for a job.’

‘How did you know that...?’ The corner of his mouth tipped up into the tiniest of rueful smiles. ‘Ah...your Auntie Ava again?’ he suggested drily.

‘Of course.’

‘I’ll never tell that infernal woman another damned thing!’ Byron pronounced testily from the other end of the sofa.

‘Poor Auntie,’ Jade muttered before rounding on her father, her voice sharp. ‘Why all the cloak and dagger stuff, anyway? Who’d care if Mr. C—?’ She broke off, her eyes widening. My God, she’d almost called him Mr Cool out loud! Clearing her throat as a cover, she said ‘excuse me’, then sipped her drink. A fit of mad giggles sprang to her throat but she managed to stifle the urge and continue in a surprisingly normal voice. ‘I was going to say why shouldn’t other people know about Kyle’s appointment?’

‘Because I don’t want Celeste Campbell to get wind of it, that’s why!’ Byron snarled.

Jade raised her eyebrows. She often wondered what had happened between her father and Celeste Campbell to make their relationship so vitriolic on his side, and continuingly vengeful on hers. Celeste was, in fact, Jade’s aunt, being her mother’s half-sister. Her mother, Irene, had been Stewart Campbell’s first-born child, but his wife had passed away within weeks of Irene being born and the widower Campbell had subsequently remarried and had two more children, Celeste and Damian.

Jade found the antagonism between her father and Celeste Campbell quite perplexing. The ancient feud between their fathers, David Whitmore and Stewart Campbell, was well known, though not the reason behind it. Something to do with an opal, she had heard once, a very valuable one which had disappeared or something.

Whatever, after the two men passed away, her parents’ marriage had seemed to heal the rift between the families to a degree. Enough, anyway, for the old animosity to die down to nothing but normal competition between business people who shared a common trade. Apparently, however, when Celeste had taken control of Campbell Jewels about ten years ago, she’d found cause to resurrect the old feud between the Campbells and Whitmores.

It was a mystery all right and one which she didn’t think she’d ever solve. Her father was not about to confide in her. Neither was Celeste Campbell. Maybe they just hated each other’s guts. Or, more likely, Jade’s mother had stirred up some trouble. Irene had bad-mouthed Celeste every chance she got.

‘I doubt Ms Campbell could do much more to Whitmore’s than she’s been doing,’ Jade commented wryly.

‘You don’t give an enemy any advantage,’ her father snapped.

‘But why is she your enemy, Father? What did you do to her, or vice versa? I’ve always wanted to know.’

‘I do not wish to discuss this topic at this juncture, thank you, Jade. Kyle doesn’t want to hear our family dirty linen aired, I’m sure.’

Dirty linen? That sounded intensely personal and far darker than anything she’d been imagining.

Jade stared at her father for a second before recovering. ‘I’m sure Kyle would like to be acquainted with the nature of the competition between Campbell’s and Whitmore’s. He needs to know what he’s up against.’

‘He already knows what he’s up against. Celeste Campbell is a conniving, ambitious, vengeful bitch who will stop at nothing to ruin me. There’s no more to be said!’

Melanie’s entering the room at that precise moment to announce dinner was a frustration to Jade. For there was a lot more to be said. The frown on Kyle’s face showed he agreed with her. Maybe he was even having second thoughts about the difficult job he was taking on. Jade suspected that if the family had had to rely on the profits from Whitmore Opals over the past few years they would be in deep financial straits. Fortunately, during the good years, both Grandfather Whitmore and her own father had diversified their investments into property and blue-chip stocks and shares.

Not that Jade had to rely on her family—or her father—for money any more. When she’d turned twenty-one last year, she’d inherited a substantial income from a trust her grandmother had set up for her before she was even born. This had been added to with her mother’s recent estate, which included a lot of valuable jewellery.

Unhappy about taking anything from her mother, Jade had left the jewels to languish in the family safe. Thinking about them now, she decided she would give them all to Auntie Ava. The poor dear had to ask Byron for every single cent, her big brother having been made executor of her inheritance till she married, a most unsatisfactory arrangement for any self-respecting female. No wonder she buckled under his will all the time. She would advise Ava to sell some of the jewellery and do something with the proceeds. Go to a proper art school. Or take off on a world cruise. Who knew? Maybe she’d even meet her Prince Charming if she got out and about. And maybe she’d lose some weight!

‘This way, Mr Armstrong,’ Melanie was directing their guest in her cool, slightly imperious manner. ‘I hope you like lamb...’

Jade was left to help her father struggle to his feet. ‘Here, lean on me, Pops,’ she offered.

‘So it’s “Pops” now, is it?’ he frowned. ‘What happened to “Father dear”? Or was that only to impress our visitor?’

‘Naturally,’ she grinned, and hoisted her father’s arm around her shoulders. He grunted with real pain when his weight shifted across his bad leg.

‘I’ll bet you signed yourself out of that hospital too soon, didn’t you?’ Jade accused.

‘Bloody hospitals should be banned. Torture chambers, all of them.’

Jade laughed.

‘You have a nice laugh, daughter, do you know that?’

‘You certainly haven’t told me before. Watch the edge of that coffee-table!’

They watched it together as she manoeuvred Byron into clear territory. The drawing-room was rather cluttered with a myriad antiques and expensive knickknacks.

‘You’re strong, aren’t you?’ Byron commented with surprise in his voice. ‘You have broad shoulders. Must take after your father.’

‘Part of what you’re feeling is shoulder pads,’ she said, not sure how to take this shift in the conversation. If she didn’t know better, she might think her father was trying to make up with her after their last row, not to mention his earlier rudeness.

‘I can manage by myself now,’ he said curtly, as though embarrassed by his conciliatory behaviour and taking it back. ‘Hand me my cane.’

She did. Smiling.

He caught the smile and smiled back.

Jade’s heart contracted. Why did she love him so much when he was such a cantankerous bastard, and when he lived his life by typically male standards? Did he honestly think she believed that one incident had been his one and only transgression with other women while her mother was alive? Good God, just look at him! Fifty years old with a bung leg and a scowling face and he’d still stop most women dead in their tracks at a single glance. His body was still hard, his head still full of hair. And those hard blue eyes were so damned sexy it was sinful.

‘You’re a good girl,’ he said. ‘Underneath. And you look very nice tonight.’

Jade’s smile widened.

‘What’s the private joke?’ he demanded to know.

‘It was the underneath part. I still haven’t got a bra on, you know.’

‘No, I didn’t know. And neither would any other man looking at you in that rig-out, which is exactly how it should be. The only man who should see a woman’s bare breasts is her husband!’

‘I’ll keep that in mind, Pops.’

Jade resisted telling her father that the last thing she was ever going to have was a husband. Marriage, in her books, was not the key to eternal happiness. She couldn’t deny men filled a necessary niche, every once in a while. But as a daily diet?

Good God, no. Marriage was not for her. No way. She did her own thing, ran her own race, thank you very much. Imagine being married to someone like Mr Cool. In no time, he would be telling her what to wear, how to act, how to vote, even! Men like him couldn’t seem to help taking on the role of bossy-boots. The poor darlings actually thought they knew best, that the world would stop spinning if they didn’t spin it personally.

No, she was not interested in marrying Kyle Armstrong. She simply wanted to sleep with him. There! She could admit it now and not tremble with shock. And if she could wangle a position for herself at Whitmore Opals at the same time, then so much the better!

The grandfather clock slowly and sombrely donged eight as they passed, as though giving her a grave warning about something. Jade ignored the omen. She didn’t believe in such things.

* * *

Eight o’clock found Gemma finding a temporary sanctuary in the swimming-pool. She stroked up and down, up and down, wishing she could recapture the euphoria she’d felt earlier that afternoon in Nathan’s arms. But reality had come back with a rush and it was impossible to stop all the doubts and fears from crowding her mind.

What was everyone in Belleview going to say when she and Nathan announced one day in the near future that they were married? Maybe Byron wouldn’t be too surprised—she had an odd feeling he already knew there was something between herself and Nathan. Neither would Ava or Melanie be too shocked. But they wouldn’t be at all pleased. They might start thinking she was a little schemer, that she’d inveigled her way into Belleview in order to entrap Nathan into marriage.

She could perhaps endure that. Kirsty’s reaction, however, loomed as a major problem. Nathan’s daughter was going to feel betrayed. Gemma had become the girl’s friend, more than her minder. How was Kirsty going to react when she found out Gemma had married her father, the father she still hoped would be reconciled with her mother?

Gemma hated even thinking about it. She also hated having to pretend there was nothing between herself and Nathan till they were safely married. She’d always believed honesty was the best policy. Deception and lies were wrong.

But Nathan insisted they keep their relationship a secret till after the event. He wanted no fuss, he said. No arguments. People would try to talk them out of marrying if they knew beforehand.

Which people? she’d asked as soon as Kirsty had left the house to go to the movie marathon with her friends. Was he talking about Byron? Ava? His daughter? His ex-wife? Was it himself he feared could be talked out of the marriage. Or herself?

Nathan hadn’t really answered her. He’d diverted her questions by making love to her yet again. Afterwards, while he was in the bathroom, she’d slipped on her swimming costume and fled to the pool, anywhere where she could think. The suspicion that Nathan might deliberately have used sex to silence her arguments was now teasing the edges of her mind, and, while she automatically shrank from the idea, Gemma found it wouldn’t let go. If anything, it was growing.

A splash behind her had her feet searching for the bottom of the pool. But she was at the deep end, so she was madly treading water when Nathan swam underneath her feet and surfaced in front of her.

‘I couldn’t find you,’ he said, slicking his hair back from his handsome but angry eyes. ‘Why didn’t you tell me where you were going? I wouldn’t have known where you were if I hadn’t looked out of the study window.’

‘I...I needed some air,’ she answered breathlessly, already feeling tired. She wasn’t the strongest swimmer in the world. If there hadn’t been a learn-to-swim programme at school she never would have learnt at all. Lightning Ridge did not abound in water.

‘Have you changed your mind?’ he asked coldly. ‘About getting married.’

‘No, of course not. It’s just that it isn’t going to be easy. I...I’m worried about what Kirsty’s going to say.’

‘Kirsty will adjust. So will everyone else. Just do as I say and everything will be fine. Here, you’re sinking. Put your arms around my neck and wrap your legs around my waist.’

She went to do so but jerked back as though stung. ‘You’re...you’re naked!’

‘Uh-huh. And so will you be...once I get you out of this strait-jacket.’

Gemma gasped as her breasts burst free of her costume, Nathan peeling the purple maillot downwards till it was dragged right off and let go of, to float away. For a while she trod water again, her flapping arms and legs making her even more aware of her abrupt nudity. She glanced nervously around, happy to see that the trees and shrubbery around the edges of the garden gave them privacy from neighbors. The sun had not long set but the evening was warm. Stars twinkled overhead in a clear sky. A half-moon bathed the water in its soft glow.

‘I...I’m not used to this kind of thing,’ she babbled.

‘I know,’ he said, and caught her to him.

His mouth was wet and warm and wild. Gemma wanted to push him away, to say she had things she needed to talk about, but she soon ran up the white flag. Making love with the man she loved was too new and too wonderful and too exciting to replace with serious discussion. That could wait, she supposed. After all, they did have all night.

With a sigh, she moved to fit her body to his, to entwine her arms and legs around his hard lean torso. Nathan groaned deep in his throat and clasped her even closer. Gemma’s head whirled and she pushed all thought of Kirsty aside. It was a night made for love, a night made for lovers. She would worry about tomorrow...tomorrow.

CHAPTER FOUR

JADE watched Melanie steering their dinner guest into the dining-room ahead of them, her conversation obviously finding favour with Mr Cool, since he was smiling over at the housekeeper. A pang of jealousy was quickly followed by a surge of annoyance. What was wrong with her today, becoming fixated on a man who obviously did not return her interest? A challenge was all very well but when it started affecting her total equilibrium then it was time to call a halt!

Besides, she couldn’t possibly be wanting Kyle as much as she thought she did. Sex for sex’s sake had never held any fascination for her. How could it when the physical act left her unmoved? It was male attention she occasionally craved, not male bodies.

Nathan was the only man ever to have really aroused her. But then Nathan was an enigma in that regard. Men like him should be banned from female company. They were far too dangerous.

As for men like Mr Cool...Jade was at a loss to understand why she was finding him so physically fascinating. One would think that after last night her susceptibility to the male sex would have to be at an all-time low. Yet here she was, being plagued by feelings she didn’t want, and desires that were so alien to her that she didn’t really know how to handle them.

Feeling irritated and somewhat bewildered, Jade fell uncharacteristically silent. Too bad her father wasn’t similarly content.

‘Well, what do you think of him?’ he demanded to know as they made slow progress together towards the dining-room.

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