Perfect Strangers. Laura Martin

The dark head shook with disbelief. ‘OK. I’ll go,’ he murmured. ‘But don’t imagine this is the end—’

      ‘I want it to be!’

      Jake’s mouth curved slightly. ‘No, you don’t.’ Dark eyes slid over her bare breasts. He reached forward and stroked a darkened nipple with one finger and Olivia felt the now familiar ache of desire his touch could produce all over again. ‘What we achieved tonight is rare,’ he asserted knowledgeably. ‘Neither of us could deny ourselves the pleasure of such sexual harmony. It has to continue.’

      Words failed her. Olivia opened her mouth to speak, to deny all that he said, but nothing emerged. ‘You see?’ Jake was observing her reactions closely. ‘You know deep down that what I say is the truth.’ He slid his fingers across her breast and adjusted the strap of her bra. ‘I’ll let myself out.’

      She watched him leave the room, rigid with resentment, shocked by what he had said. Did he really imagine that she would be willing to. . .to. . .continue after all that had just been said?

      There was a biting wind outside that howled mournfully through the trees. Olivia drew back the faded bedroom curtains and felt the sharp breeze blowing into the room through the old, ill-fitting windows.

      She shivered, watching silently as Jake placed the sedated dog carefully inside the back of the Range Rover and then covered it with a tartan blanket. There was a brief glow as the interior light went on, a glimpse of Jake Savage’s hard, enigmatic expression. Then darkness, the roar of a powerful engine, a glow of red tail-lights and in the next moment the Range Rover was pulling away into the night.

      

      Next morning it was still raining. Olivia stood at her bedroom window and stared across the fields, watching impassively as the low clouds drifted in sheets of grey.

      April showers, she thought. Except that today was the first day of May, and this definitely was no shower. She glanced around the attic-style bedroom and considered going back to bed. It was early yet, not even seven o’clock, and it was cold and dismal. . .

      He was on her mind, of course. She had dreamt about him in the early hours of the morning; a reenacting of their lovemaking the previous night.

      Olivia wrapped her dressing-gown tightly around her and longed for central heating. Amendment to the list, she thought; get a heating firm to install an efficient system as soon as possible—wood fires in every room were not going to be possible or practical.

      He had left his jacket. It was the first thing her eyes alighted on when she came downstairs. She picked up the expensive suede garment and looked at it for a long while, her mind swinging back to the previous evening, to the shock and pleasure of his embrace. Her body stirred at the memory. The intensity; that had been the thing that had lingered on far into the night, still lingered even now. How could he have told her he wasn’t interested in involvement after making love to her like that?

      The jacket felt soft beneath her fingers; she saw that it was a little worn at the cuffs and guessed instinctively that it was a favoured article.

      Olivia pressed her face against the suede and breathed in the unforgettable scent of him. Smell was important to her, in London the toxic fumes of the street, the impersonal, clinical smell of her hi-tech office had been a continual bugbear. On many, many days during a stifling spell of scorching weather, or during the dank, dismal hours of winter, she had longed for fresh country air.

      And now she had it.

      Olivia tossed the jacket angrily down onto the sofa and walked to her front door. She turned the key and drew back the bolts. It was a dreadful morning but that didn’t matter. She was here in the country at least. She should be feeling happy. Paul had done her a favour—he had precipitated the move here; his callous behaviour had allowed her to see that she had never really loved him.

      But Jake Savage. . . Olivia frowned and closed her eyes, inhaling a deep breath, filling her lungs with the sweet, damp air. She could hardly believe all that had taken place between them. . .

      On impulse she stepped under the porch and out into the pouring rain.

      It was a mad thing to do, but totally invigorating. Olivia tipped her face to the skies and allowed the rain to saturate her. I’m washing away the grime of the city, she thought. Maybe I can wash away all thoughts of Jake Savage and start again. . . She tried not to think about how completely he had possessed her, how much her body had ached with wanting him, far into the night after he had gone. Still ached. . . She couldn’t stop thinking about him. It was infatuation of the most intense kind. ‘Please, don’t let it be love,’ Olivia whispered as the rain drenched her face, ‘don’t let it be that.’

      ‘Is this a ritual you hope to perform every morning? If I’d known I’d have made a point of getting here earlier!’

      Olivia spun around, her heart beating wildly at the sound of his voice. Jake Savage stood a few feet away, dressed in a long waxed raincoat with two golden Labradors sitting obediently at his feet, watching her make an absolute fool of herself.

      ‘Don’t let my presence make any difference,’ he drawled, leaning nonchalantly on the gate. ‘Go right ahead. I never expected this sort of entertainment so early in the morning. It’s quite, quite fascinating.’

      Olivia’s face flamed with embarrassment; she half expected to see steam coming off her body, so great was the blush that enveloped her. ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked in a voice that would have frozen water. ‘It’s rather early in the morning for social calls, isn’t it?’

      ‘I’m walking the dogs.’ Ebony eyes speared her face. ‘Be warned, I do it every morning at around this time. So, if you feel the need to perform this little rite every day and don’t wish me to be a witness, I suggest you either set your alarm clock a little earlier or wait until after breakfast.’