Foolish Deceiver Page 10

  She pulled the plastic covering from her right arm, then looked up at Linc, ready to apologise for alarming him. The words never made it. He was still holding the towel, forgotten, in his hands, and he was staring at her. His eyes lingered over her firm, full breasts, then glided lower to her waist, lower ...

  A hot flush of embarrassment burned over her, then cooled when he raised his eyes back to her face. There was no masking the naked desire that flamed within them. Stunned, Allie stared back at him, her breath growing shallow and ragged. The passionate flame that flickered and flared in his navy eyes arced between them to light an answering one in the depths of her silvery grey ones. All thoughts of the friendly, sisterly attitude she had resolved to take towards him flew from her head. She could never accept him as a friend when every cell within her ached for him as her lover. Nothing else mattered.

  His gaze was drawn to the irregular rise and fall of her chest. The towel falling from his hand, he reached out as though in slow motion and lay his palm over the smooth curve of her breast. Beneath his hand, Allie's heart thundered in a wild tattoo as she swayed towards him.

  'Allie,' he said hoarsely, seeking her eyes again. 'You're beautiful.' His hand moved gently over the satin flesh, his fingers seeking the hard button of her nipple, his palm dropping to cup the weight of her breast. A wordless murmur of joy escaped from Allie as the electricity of his touch sparked through her.

  The sound broke the spell the sight of her nude body had woven over him. Linc tensed, his hand falling to his side.

  'My promise, Allie,' he reminded her, his tone agonised. 'You should tell me to leave. This isn't supposed to happen.'

  For a long, tension-filled minute she gazed back at him, inhibition and desire warring within her. He was giving her a choice. There would be no seduction; the compulsion must be mutual. As she wavered, he made a sudden movement to turn from her. Her doubts dissolved and her decision was made for her. Quickly catching his hand with her left one, she laid it back upon her breast.

  'I don't want you to leave,' she said huskily, her body tensing as she waited for his possible rejection.

  'You know what will happen if I don't?' he warned her. Wordlessly, she nodded. His free hand moved around her, sliding down her spine to splay over the firm roundness of her buttocks. As he eased her closer to him, mindful of her injured arm, he said, 'It's not too late to tell me to go. If I stay, I'll make you mine.'

  The tension drained from her limbs; her body turned to liquid as she leaned against him. She was his. Her heart, her soul was already in his keeping. 'I am yours,' she whispered, raising her face to his, her lips parted softly to receive his kiss.

  He didn't deny her. His mouth covered hers in a warm, tender caress, teasing her lips, stoking the flames of desire. His head moved to permit his lips to explore the smooth contours of her face as he breathed in the scent of her, savouring her taste. With the tip of his tongue, he traced a circle in the pink shell of her ear. 'Let's go to your bedroom.' Without waiting for her assent, he lifted her from her feet and carried her into the next room.

  The satin bedspread was cool and firm beneath her heated body when he lay her down upon it. For a silent moment he stood over her, drinking in the beauty of her supine form. A frown touched his forehead as his eyes rested on her bandaged arm. 'Maybe this isn't such a good idea. I don't want to cause any damage.'

  In answer, Allie sat up, reaching out with her good hand to fumble with the buttons of his shirt. 'You won't hurt me ... unless you leave.'

  His hand captured hers, briefly pressing it against his chest where she could feel the heavy pounding of his heartbeat. 'I'd hurt myself more.' Letting her hand fall, Allie watched him strip the shirt from his hard, muscled torso, then shed the rest of his clothes.

  Slowly and with care, he lay down beside her, his hand stroking her velvet flesh, his fingers moving to explore the intimate recesses of her body. Her left hand made its own excursions, testing the hard nub of his male nipple, burying itself in the carpet of his chest hair.

  The rhythm of their love-play quickened as ardour built to a hard, aching need. The languid petting changed to urgent and demanding caresses, until at last Linc moved over her, spreading her thighs to receive him. Breathless seconds ticked by as he stared down into her eyes, probing their grey depths. She might have only imagined that words of love were torn from his lips as he plunged deep inside her. Perhaps it was only an echo of her own thoughts and emotions.

  Dissatisfied by what she saw, Allie studied her reflection in the mirror, knowing that it was getting too late to do anything about it. If she had been going to slice up her arm, why couldn't she have done it to her left one instead of the one she relied on all the time? It had taken several tries to apply her make-up before she'd managed to get it on relatively smudge-free. And the contortions she'd gone through getting into this sundress didn't bear thinking about.

  However, peering at herself critically, she guessed she didn't look that bad. Her nap had washed away the shadows from beneath her eyes, so she didn't really need any more make-up than the touch of eyeshadow and lipstick she'd been able to manage. Her dress was pretty and feminine, a cotton floral print with a full skirt and strapless neckline.

  If only the effect didn't have to be destroyed by this ugly sling! Grimacing,, she glared down at it, tempted to dispense with it for the evening. However, the faint ache in her arm warned her she would be pressing her luck if she did. The afternoon's lovemaking had left it a little sore.

  A secret smile tugged at Allie's lips. Even if her arm fell off as a result of her exertions, the intimacies she'd shared with Linc would still have been worth it.

  Linc wasn't in the living-room when she entered. She had heard the phone ring as she'd walked along the hallway from her bedroom, and concluded that he must have answered it in his study.

  For several minutes, she wandered about the room, taking in the view from the windows, checking out Linc's bookcase. She felt nervous, if the truth were known. Did he feel the same as she did about this afternoon? They hadn't talked much afterwards. Spent, they had lain in one another's arms in a gentle cocoon of fulfilment. Finally, Linc had roused himself, leaving her to dress for dinner.

  Did he see their interlude as a beginning, the start of a commitment, the way she did? Or was it just a moment of passion to him, a moment never to be repeated? How would he greet her when he joined her?

  Suddenly unsure, Allie took the coward's way out by delaying the moment of meeting. Removing herself from the living-room, she went to the kitchen. After all, she did owe Mrs Dorcus an apology for sleeping through lunch.

  The kitchen was a haven of homey warmth and tantalising smells. Given the newness of the house, Allie was expecting to find a modern, laboratory atmosphere in the food preparation area, but the large kitchen had a delightfully old-fashioned air, for ail its modern equipment. Huge beams hung with copper pans and antique china crossed the ceiling. Braided rugs dotted the unglazed tile flooring set out in a cobblestone pattern. Gingham curtains fluttered in the open windows, and a large deal table covered in oilcloth dominated the centre of the room.

  The housekeeper was standing at a large, modern stove as she transferred fried chicken from a well-seasoned cast-iron frying pan to a platter sitting on the marble counter-top. She turned on hearing Allie enter, her expression questioning.

  'I just wanted to tell you I hope I didn't put you out too much by missing lunch,' Allie said. She sensed something off-putting in the older woman's manner and felt her cheeks growing warm. Did the housekeeper know what had gone on between Linc and herself this afternoon and disapprove? On the other hand, the woman had never been the soul of friendliness in Allie's previous encounters with her, so perhaps it was just her manner.

  'It was no trouble. I expect you needed a rest,' Mrs Dorcus replied, turning back to her cooking. 'Dinner will be ready soon.' Her tone was laced with dismissal.

  Allie knew she should leave, but was compelled to stay watchin
g none the less. It was fascinating. The only fried chicken Allie had ever encountered was the sort that came in a cardboard box with the picture of a southern gentleman on the front of it. It was amazing to think that Mrs Dorcus had taken one of those naked things from the shop and turned it into that platter of crisp, mouth-watering morsels.

  Having removed the chicken, the housekeeper added flour to the pan and began whisking it around with the fat. When it was bubbling nicely, she added water from the pot of potatoes boiling on the back burner to the roux.

  As she stirred the mixture, she caught sight of Allie still standing by the table. Her glance was faintly hostile and the girl flushed. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get in your way. I was just watching you make gravy.'

  'I don't do fancy sauces. I'm just a plain cook,' she responded defiantly, taking Allie's explanation as criticism.

  'But you're very good,' Allie said sincerely. 'The casserole you served the other night was delicious.' The older woman didn't look mollified, and a sense of helpless desperation washed through Allie. She appeared to have offended Linc's housekeeper in some way, and he wouldn't thank her for that. In these times, it couldn't have been easy for him to find someone to take care of the house and Jason for him.

  Somehow, she didn't think it had anything to do with her and Linc being together earlier either. As the housekeeper turned away, her back rigid with affront, Allie decided the only thing to do was to beat a hasty retreat. 'I'm sorry if you don't like anyone watching you cook. I ... I don't cook much and was just wanting to see how you make gravy. I've never tried it.'

  Before Allie could turn to leave, Mrs Dorcus stayed her. 'You don't make gravy?' she asked, sounding appalled. 'What do you do?'

  'Sometimes I buy the kind that comes in cans,' Allie admitted. 'Mostly .. . well, I eat a lot of TV dinners.'

  The older woman snorted. She couldn't have looked more horrified if Allie had told her she dined on tinned dog food every night. 'Don't you know how to cook?' she asked.

  Chagrined, Allie shook her head. She'd never had an opportunity to learn. Her childhood had been spent mostly in institutions, boarding-schools and college dormitories. The kitchen staff in those places wouldn't have welcomed a child hanging about wanting to learn how to cook.

  'You can't do much with your arm like that, but you can watch me if you want to. Come over here,' Mrs Dorcus ordered gruffly. Despite the harshness of her tone, there was an underlying warmth that had been missing up until now.

  'You saw me put the flour in?' she asked as Allie joined her in front of the stove. 'Make sure you've got plenty of fat, then you let it bubble, stirring it to work out the lumps. Next, you add ...'

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Allie thoroughly enjoyed her impromptu cooking lesson. Mrs Dorcus turned out to be an excellent teacher, with a vast store of patience when answering Allie's questions. Like most highly intelligent people, Allie had never been content with simple explanations. It was all well and good for the cookbook to tell you not to over-mix your baking powder biscuits, but Allie wanted to know why ... and how could you tell when they were mixed enough but not too much?

  Fortunately, Linc's housekeeper appeared to know the answer to these and all Allie's million other questions and, more importantly, didn't resent her asking them. When Linc discovered them together nearly half an hour later, the two were deep into a discussion of the qualities of whipping cream, and how it could be used to produce butter.

  He stood watching for several minutes, until Mrs Dorcus looked up and saw him standing by the door. She glanced over to the kitchen clock, then hurriedly got up from the table where she and Allie had been having their discussion. Wiping her hands on her apron, she said, 'I'd better put the vegetables on to cook. I expect you're wanting dinner soon.'

  'I'm in no hurry. I was looking for Allie to see if she wanted to join me for a drink before we eat.' He stood looking at the two women, a curious half-smile on his lips. 'What were you doing?'

  Allie rose and walked over to him. 'Frances was just giving me a few cooking tips.' His straight dark brows lifted at Allie's use of the housekeeper's Christian name. The older woman had worked for him for several years, and she'd never invited him to drop the formal Mrs Dorcus!

  Allie gave him an uncertain look. It occurred to her that the housekeeper was his employee, and he might not appreciate her coming into the kitchen and bothering her. She wasn't the mistress of his house, and she hoped he didn't think she was trying to usurp that role just because of what had happened between them earlier. 'I hope you don't mind,' she said meekly.

  'No, of course not,' he assured her. His smile took on a mocking tilt. 'She's a brave woman, though. I probably should offer her danger pay.'

  It took a moment for Allie to catch his drift. Then she remembered the incident in Clare's kitchen with the salad dressing. She gave Linc a hurt look and encountered his deep blue eyes, sparkling with devilment. A smile started to replace the frowning set of her mouth as a sense of humour she didn't know she possessed took over. The sight of Linc 'dressed' in oil and vinegar had been rather funny.

  When his deep male chuckle rang out, she found laughter bubbling up in her own throat. He slid his arm around her shoulders companionably, giving them a friendly squeeze. 'How about having that drink with me? It's my turn to have a share of your company.'

  Allie absolutely loved the possessive way he had said that! Linc's arm didn't drop from around her until they had reached the living-room. When he released her to go and fix the drinks, Allie's eyes followed him with loving adoration. She almost felt like pinching herself, to see if this was a dream. Linc was everything she—any woman—could want in a man. Strong and sexy, he was intelligent, witty, kind ... and she loved him. Even more, she felt in her heart that he loved her as well.

  Rejoining her, Linc handed her the glass of orange juice she'd requested. 'Honestly, I was quite surprised to find you in the kitchen with Mrs Dorcus. She's usually a real bear when anyone invades her domain.'

  'She didn't seem too pleased to see me when I first went in,' Allie admitted. 'She was really nice to me after the first few minutes, though.'

  'I'm glad you get on so well, since you're going to be staying for a while. She and Elaine are usually at daggers drawn. Elaine won't even set foot in the kitchen when she's there, because Mrs Dorcus has turfed her out so many times.'

  Finding her glass of great interest, Allie wished he hadn't brought up Elaine. She preferred not to even think about the other woman in his life. Not that she was that sure Elaine was the other woman in his life. It could very well be that she was just a friend of Linc's and the rumours Allie had heard were just that—rumours. Linc seemed to have too much character to be the sort of man to start an affair with one woman while heavily involved with another.

  Glancing at him through her lashes as she took a sip of her juice, Allie was sure that he just wouldn't do it. There was too much integrity written in the lines of his decisive features and direct dark blue eyes for him to be a rake.

  Feeling happier, Allie permitted herself a tiny, smug smile. Even if Elaine wasn't her rival, it was none the less ego-satisfying to know that the other woman didn't get along with Linc's housekeeper, while she and Frances had hit it off like a house on fire.

  Recalling those first few minutes she'd spent in the housekeeper's company, Allie didn't need any of her college degrees to figure out why the woman didn't think much of Elaine, either. Frances had told her she was a 'plain cook' who didn't do 'fancy sauces'. It wasn't hard to imagine Elaine with her art deco fruit salad sweeping into the kitchen and trying to take over. Allie didn't blame Frances for chucking her out. No one wanted to be around a person who made them feel inadequate or inferior.

  Not that Mrs Dorcus need ever feel that way about her cooking. When they sat down to dinner a little while later, Allie decided that the chicken looked just as delicious on her plate as it had in the kitchen. As she had missed lunch, Allie felt more than able to do justice to the cris
py chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy and new peas and carrots the housekeeper had prepared. She was only going to save enough room for some of that strawberry shortcake she'd watched Frances make for dessert!

  Her plate loaded, Allie sampled the vegetables, then glanced over to Linc. His knife and fork were poised over a succulent piece of breast meat as he prepared to cut off a bite. She looked down at her own plate and the drumstick reposing on it. With her arm in a sling, she couldn't wield a knife and fork if her life depended on it. She had hoped that they were going to consider the chicken finger-food. Although, taking in the lovely china and linen tablecloth that graced the table, that would be rather incongruous.

  'Is anything wrong?' Linc asked suddenly, noticing her expression. 'Your arm? This afternoon ... your stitches didn't get torn out, did they?'

  'No ... no, I'm fine.' Looking down at her plate to hide the flush of heightened senses brought about by his reference to their afternoon's lovemaking, Allie said quickly, 'Everything certainly looks delicious.' Taking up a forkful of the potatoes, she shoved it in her mouth while she decided how she was going to ask him to cut her meat for her. It was embarrassing, and made her feel like such a baby—especially when she wanted him to see her as all woman.

  He didn't say anything for a moment, then suddenly set his knife and fork aside. 'You know, Mrs Dorcus's fried chicken's just about my favourite food.' Using his hands, he picked up the breast piece and bit into it. After chewing, he swallowed and set the piece back on his plate. Licking the grease from his fingertips with obvious enjoyment, he said, 'It's messier this way, but for some reason it always tastes better if you eat it with your fingers.'

  Allie stared at him doubtfully for a moment, then saw one of his eyelids drop in a slow wink. She grinned back at him, then picked up her drumstick with her left hand and took a big bite from it. It tasted heavenly.