Past Passion Part 8

It took the sudden realisation that someone was opening her car door to jerk her back to real awareness of the fact that she was parked on a very lonely stretch of road, that it was dark and well past midnight, and that she was completely on her own.

However, no sooner had a series of panicky thoughts started to flood her mind than she realised that the person opening the door was Matt.

"I saw you'd stopped and thought you might be having car trouble," he explained tersely.

It was too late to make any attempt to hide her tears from him. The swiftly comprehensive glance he had given her in the light flooding the car as he'd opened the door must have revealed her tear-stained face quite clearly.

"The car's fine, thanks," she told him.

"It's him, isn't it the boyfriend?" he demanded almost roughly.

"I.

heard you telling Christine that it was all over between you. "

He stood up, closing her driver's door before she could say anything.

For a few seconds she thought he had gone, and then she realised he had simply walked around the car and was now opening the pa.s.senger door and getting in.

While she stared at him, torn between the agonising pleasure of having him there and the realisation of how dangerous to her this kind of intimacy was, she heard him saying huskily, "I know you'll have heard this already, but he really isn't worth it. The man must be a fool if he doesn't realise..."

He thought she was crying because of Gordon. Automatically Nicola turned to him to deny it, but he was sitting far too close to her in the small confines of her compact car and, as she turned her head, he raised his hand, his fingers warm and hard as they slid against her face, his thumb brushing away the damp traces of her tears.

"He isn't worth it," he told her again.

She started to tremble, heat flooding her. Her skin was burning where he was touching it. She had a wild impulse to turn her head and let her lips explore the hand that cupped her face. She trembled again.

"Nicki, don't..."

She had no awareness of either of them moving, but one or both of them must have done because suddenly there was no distance between them at all. Matt's free arm was holding her against him, while his hand slid into her hair, the touch of his fingers against her scalp almost-almost tender, she recognised dazedly.

She looked up at him, mutely searching his face, not really understanding what was motivating his intimacy with, and concern for, her.

Shadows cloaked his features. All she could see was the dark glitter of his eyes, the male outline of his mouth as he turned his head towards her.

Her heart jerked painfully inside her chest. She discovered that, having focused on his mouth, she could not bring herself to look away.

Her throat had gone dry, her lungs seemed incapable of drawing in enough air, her lips parted, a million tiny, aching pulses beating through her body.

"Nicki..."

His voice was rough, its timbre making her shiver as though he had' actually touched her skin, caressing its most sensitive points.

When his lips first touched hers, it was no more than a whisper of sensation, a soft brushing of flesh on flesh, but it sensitised her so much that she trembled bodily.

Immediately Matt made a soft sound of rea.s.surance against her mouth.

His tongue stroked her lips, and instinctively she felt herself trying to get even closer to him. Her arms were wrapped around t1"11' although she had no real awareness of hov^ " ^llad So1there.

The slow stroll of his tongue against her lip8 was dangerously erotic' making her ache fcrr something more intimate. Her muscles clenched fiercely as her $snsesreacted to her mind's imagery of how tt^1 Y^ed-for intimacy would make her feel. Matt wasn't we^S a jacket, and beneath her fingertips she co^ feel the hard PAY of his muscles.

Overwhelmed by her own physical responsiveness to him, she ^aressed his back and then his shoulders, mmdIe^Y ^"g her emotions and desires take contr<71 ^="" her="" this="" must="" be="" s^as="" she="" had="" done="" before,="" surely,="" otherwise="" t^="" would(i="" her="" hands,="" her="" entire="" body,="" yearn="" for="" silo11="" "="">

When Matt's ^"th left hers to caress her throat she made 9 sma11' keening sound of distress, her body tr^^e with urgency, an ache of need coiling tai^ ^" ugh her.

She must have s^ his "'" "e, although she bad no knowledge of bAS done so, because almost immediately his n^0" " '" etumed to hers and he was kissing her ^of as he had done before-gently and explor^^y--1'"I wi an ^vaaa-cy that made her bodY arch and her mouth open 10 eager invitation.

She felt the shU^^ that convulsed him, her own body registering it and reacting in an aftershock of small tremors. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were pressed hard against his body and had started to ache almost unbearably, not from the pressure of their embrace but from a far more private, primitive and sensual cause.

She wanted his hands on her body, she recognised, and not just his hands. She closed her eyes, shivering, drenched by the hot tide of need that rocked through her.

Outside, beyond the intimate darkness of the car, a horn blared, tyres squealing in protest as one car overtook another, the noise shocking her into abruptly focusing on what she was doing.

As he felt her tense. Matt let her go, his voice low and slightly rough as he apologised.

"I'm sorry. I never meant...1 didn't intend..."

This time, the burning sensation under her skin was caused not by desire but by embarra.s.sment, the embarra.s.sment of knowing what Matt was telling her.

"Look, why don't you leave your car here and let me drive you home?"

he continued.

"You're upset and--' " I'm perfectly capable of driving," she told him brittly. She wasn't and she knew it, but she felt as though if she had to spend any more time with him she would shatter like a piece of overstressed gla.s.s.

She still wasn't sure quite what had happened wrapped around him, although she had no real awareness of how they had got there.

The slow stroke of his tongue against her lips was dangerously erotic, making her ache for something more intimate. Her muscles clenched fiercely as her senses reacted to her mind's imagery of how that yearned-for intimacy would make her feel.

Matt wasn't wearing a jacket, and beneath her fingertips she could feel the hard play of his muscles.

Overwhelmed by her own physical responsiveness to him, she caressed his back and then his shoulders, mindlessly letting her emotions and desires take control of her.

This must be something she had done before, surely, otherwise how would her hands, her entire body, yearn for such intimacy?

When Matt's mouth left hers to caress her throat she made a small, keening sound of distress, her body trembling with urgency, an ache of need coiling tautly through her.

She must have said his name, although she had no knowledge of having done so, because almost immediately his mouth returned to hers and he was kissing her not as he had done before-gently and exploratively--but with an intimacy that made her body arch and her mouth open in eager invitation.

She felt the shudder that convulsed him, her own body registering it and reacting in an aftershock of small tremors. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were pressed hard against his body and had started to ache almost unbearably, not from the pressure of their embrace but from a far more private, primitive and sensual cause.

She wanted his hands on her body, she recognised, and not just his hands. She closed her eyes, shivering, drenched by the hot tide of need that rocked through her.

Outside, beyond the intimate darkness of the car, a horn blared, tyres squealing in protest as one car overtook another, the noise shocking her into abruptly focusing on what she was doing.

As he felt her tense. Matt let her go, his voice low and slightly rough as he apologised.

"I'm sorry. I never meant...1 didn't intend..."

This time, the burning sensation under her skin was caused not by desire but by embarra.s.sment, the embarra.s.sment of knowing what Matt was telling her.

"Look, why don't you leave your car here and let me drive you home?"

he continued.

"You're upset and--' " I'm perfectly capable of driving," she told him brittly. She wasn't and she knew it, but she felt as though if she had to spend any more time with him she would shatter like a piece of overstressed gla.s.s.

She still wasn't sure quite what had happened to her, or how what she knew Matt had only intended as a gesture of comfort had turned into the fiercely burning physical desire she had experienced.

If that was how she had behaved that night, no wonder he had looked so--so smug and self- satisfied in the morning, she thought sickly.

She closed her eyes briefly against the hot burn of fresh tears and said thickly, "Please, go...1 want to get home..."

She tensed as she felt him hesitate, knowing that if he argued with her now she would probably break down completely.

"Go, Matt," she demanded.

"Please..."

To her relief he opened the car door and made to get out, pausing to tell her, "I still don't think you're in any fit state to drive, so I'll follow you to make sure you get home safely. No arguments," he added curtly.

"Otherwise, I'll carry you out of this d.a.m.n thing by force if necessary..."

Silently Nicola watched him go, suppressing the temptation to race off into the night before he could return to his own car, knowing that he'd been quite right when he'd said she wasn't really fit to drive.

Luckily the roads were quiet but, despite the fact that she applied all her concentration to the task of driving, she was very conscious of the fact that physically she felt oddly weak, and that her mind kept straying, drawn dangerously into a whirlpool of thoughts and fears which had nothing to do with what she was doing and everything to do with what had happened with Matt.

When she turned into her parents' drive, she glanced in her driving-mirror and saw that Matt's car was parked at the end of the drive.

He had been behind her all the way home, monitoring what she was doing, watching over her. What had motivated him to do that? Guilt, because he felt responsible for her distraught state? But why should he feel guilty when she had been the one.

She shuddered as she stopped the car, remembering how she had moaned beneath his mouth in aching frustration, wanting more. wanting him. Her skin flushed and she was glad that there was no one to see her, to witness her shame and anguish.

That Matt had never intended to do more than offer her a comforting male shoulder to cry on she already knew. Even that first tentative pressure of his mouth on hers had been comforting rather than arousing.

As she went inside, she found herself almost wishing that he had remembered her at first sight. Then, she had no doubt that he would have avoided her like the plague, then there would have been no intimacy between them to taunt and disturb her. Then he would have remembered how she had reacted to him before, even if she could not, and he would have acted accordingly.

Her first initial fear on recognising him--that he would remember her and cause her humiliation and embarra.s.sment by doing so, by making her behaviour public--no longer existed. He was simply not that kind of man. Witness his behaviour towards her tonight. His kindness. His concern.

He had even apologised for what had happened when both of them knew that the real blame lay with her.

Ironically, once she was alone and free to cry, she discovered that she no longer had any real desire to do so. Neither, it seemed, was she going to be able to get much sleep, because every time she closed her eyes she was tormented by far too vivid memories of how she had felt when Matt had kissed and held her.

Matthew Hunt . Why was she so susceptible to him? Was it because of the past? As she curled her body into a small, tight ball of distress, she tried to convince herself that, once Matt had left the area, once he was only someone who visited the company at rare intervals, she would soon overcome her present feelings--that, starved of the object of their desire, her emotions would soon be back under her control.

And just as long as Matt thought, as he obviously did think, that she loved Gordon, she would be reasonably safe from the humiliation of his realising how she felt about him.

A tiny, bitter smile curved her mouth. How ironic of fate to send him back into her life like this. How ironic and cruel. The sensuality which she had denied she possessed for all these years had, with Matt's arrival, suddenly burst into eager life, tormenting her with desires and needs with which she was wholly unfamiliar. Even now, hours later, the mere memory of his lips touching hers had the power to make her whole body go taut with aching heat. She even found herself wishing that she could remember that night she had spent with him so that she could. So that she could what? Relive it, if only mentally?

Miserably she closed her eyes and willed herself to at least try to go to sleep.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

'nicola, meet Tim Ford. "

"A rather delayed meeting, I'm afraid," Tim commented as he and Nicola shook hands.

They were in Nicola's office, where she had arrived ten minutes earlier to discover that Matt was already there and that their new manager was with him, having been able to return to work a little earlier than had originally been antic.i.p.ated.

Trying to ignore the shock of anguish that had hit her with the realisation that her daily contact with Matt would soon be a thing of the past, Nicola reminded herself that if she had any sense she would be feeling relieved that Tim Ford had arrived.

Since the night he had followed her home from the dinner party, she had been so acutely aware of Matt that working with him had become an almost unbearable strain.

She was losing weight and growing tense and, even though she knew that her parents and her friends were concerned about her and had erroneously put the change in her down to her breakup with Gordon, she couldn't bring herself to admit the truth to any of them.

It had taken her long enough to admit it to herself. She was in love with Matt.

She looked at him now, a quick, surrept.i.tious glance under cover of the conversation he was having.

During office hours. Matt had made no reference whatsoever to what had happened between them, but on the day following the dinner party he had called round totally unexpectedly to see her. She had been in the garden, picking some peas for lunch, her hair sc.r.a.ped back off her face, and dressed in a pair of tatty jeans and an equally old T-shirt.

His grave apology for what had happened had left her tongue tied with guilt and shame, wanting to tell him that she was equally responsible, but unable to find the words to do so.

He wanted her to know, he had told her, that she need have no fear of suffering the embarra.s.sment of any kind of s.e.xual hara.s.sment from him; he knew she loved Gordon; they were both adults, both aware that the most innocuous of events, when coloured by very powerful emotions, could result in things happening which had never been intended to happen.

What he was trying to tell her was that he had never intended to do anything more than ensure that she was all right. She already knew that, and his apology had made her feel even worse than she had done before, especially when she had happened to look up at him and all too betrayingly remembered what it had felt like to be held in his arms, to have his mouth caressing hers.

When he'd suggested that both of them put the entire incident out of their minds, she'd been only too willing to agree.

She realised that Tim Ford was speaking to her, and quickly dragged her attention back to focus on what he was saying.

He was a pleasant-looking man in his early thirties, whom, she had learned, was unmarried, and who had worked for Matt for several years.

His leg was still in plaster from the accident which had immobilised him and caused the delay in his taking over from Alan.

"Site visits are going to be tricky for a while," he told Nicola ruefully while Matt was taking a phone call.

He then went on to ask her how she was liking the new computer systems they were having installed, and whether she had found them to be of any benefit.

Within half an hour of meeting him, Nicola knew she could work in harmony with him, probably more efficiently than she could work for Matt, with whom she was never free of the tensions caused by her awareness of him as a man.

Matt had finished his call and, when she glanced across at him, unable to resist the temptation of looking at him, she saw that he was regarding them with a slight frown. Her own muscles tensed in response. Had she done something wrong, irritated him in some way?