Substitute Lover. PENNY JORDAN

mind, Gray. I’m tired—it must be the hot weather.’

      She had to avoid looking at him as she gave voice to the small lie. She never went to bed early on the first night of her visits. She and Gray normally stayed up until the early hours of the morning, catching up on one another’s news, teasing each other, talking … But tonight, for some reason, she was conscious of an air of constraint between them, and almost every time she looked at Gray, she couldn’t help mentally picturing him with Carla, his body as magnificently nude as it had been earlier, its muscled hardness covering the blonde’s more delicately female shape.

      Gray didn’t say a word about her unusual decision to go to bed early, but as he walked her to the door and opened it for her, Stephanie glanced up at him and saw that his dark eyebrows were drawn together in a heavy frown.

      Instinctively, without thinking what she was doing, she raised herself up on tiptoe, and pressed her fingertips to the frown lines, tenderly smoothing them away. Her gesture was completely unselfconscious, born of her desire to restore their relationship to its normal footing, but from the way Gray reacted her touch might have burned his skin like acid.

      Lean fingers clamped round her wrist, his head jerking back as though he loathed the physical contact between their skins.

      The pain of his bone-crunching grip was nothing to compare with the anguish of rejection which Stephanie suffered, when she saw the look of revulsion in his eyes.

      ‘Gray!’ Shock rounded her eyes to deep violet pools of pain, humiliation sending a burning wave of scarlet across her skin. Her arm throbbed from the tightness of his grip, and a terrible feeling of nausea churned in her stomach. What was it she had done?

      Blue eyes narrowed sharply on her face, a hard burn of colour darkening the taut thrust of Gray’s cheekbones. More than ever he reminded her of a beast of prey, a dangerous jungle cat, waiting to pounce on its victim.

      ‘What did I do wrong?’

      The words whispered past lips trembling slightly with the aftermath of shock.

      Stephanie saw Gray’s lips twist. ‘Twenty-eight years old and you have to ask me that? You haven’t done the male sex any favours by living like a nun since Paul’s death, Steph.’

      The violet eyes betrayed bewilderment and he made a sound of self-derision deep in his throat, caught midway between anger and amusement.

      ‘For God’s sake, do you want me to spell it out for you?’

      Something dangerous had been let loose in the room: Stephanie could sense it and yet she didn’t know where the danger came from. She touched the tip of her tongue to her trembling lips, moistening them, in an acutely nervous gesture, blinking a little as she saw the flat hardness compressing Gray’s mouth as he watched her movements like a hawk.

      Her voice in a husky whisper she protested, ‘Gray, I only touched you. I’ve touched you before.’

      ‘Now it’s different.’ His voice was flat, metallic almost, as though he’d deliberately forced every iota of emotion out of it. ‘Then I wasn’t suffering from the frustration that’s eating into me now.’

      The shock of it tensed her muscles. Gray had never spoken to her like this before, never mentioned his physical desires, or the women he shared them with.

      She wet her lips again, conscious of a strange heat burning through her veins. She didn’t want to hear about Gray’s sex life, but for some reason she heard herself saying slowly, ‘Carla …?’

      ‘Carla’s married, Steph.’

      Numb with shock, Stephanie heard him swear. For some reason her heart was racing, her nerve-endings pulsingly conscious of Gray’s tension. She saw him move and stiffened with shock as his fingers bit into the tender flesh of her upper arms.

      ‘You don’t even know what I’m talking about, do you?’ His voice was thick and unfamiliar, and for the first time since she had known him, his movements were less than perfectly controlled. She could actually hear the fierce thud of his heart as he closed the distance between them, so loud that it drowned her instinctive gasp of shock.

      ‘This is what it’s all about, Stephanie. This, and this.’ He pulled her so close to his body that she could feel its heat; so close that, shockingly, she was aware of his physical arousal. If just the thought of Carla could affect him like this … Icy cold with shock, she shuddered. Instantly Gray released her, an expression of cold withdrawal icing over his eyes.

      ‘I’m sorry.’ His voice was curt. ‘I shouldn’t have done that.’

      He turned his back to her, and part of her ached to reach out and comfort him. Instead she said shakily. ‘It’s all right, Gray. I … I … understand. At least, I think I do.’

      ‘Do you?’ He turned to look at her, searching her face with hard eyes. Stephanie made herself hold that searching gaze.

      ‘I think so. You love Carla, but she’s married to someone else. You love someone who’s out of reach.’

      ‘I certainly do.’ The look he gave her was wryly sardonic. ‘Go to bed, Stephanie,’ he told her tiredly. ‘I don’t think there’s any point in discussing things any further.’

      Despite her original claim that she was tired, Stephanie couldn’t sleep. It had come as a shock to learn that Gray was in love with Carla, and it hadn’t been a pleasant shock. In fact, she was stunned to discover just how resentful and unhappy she felt. She loved him as a friend, as a brother—so why did she feel like this?

      Of course, it was because Carla was married. That was the explanation! Poor Gray, what a terrible situation for him. She knew how devastating jealousy could be, and he must be jealous of Carla’s husband—jealous and frustrated. Her face burned as she remembered the way he had demonstrated that frustration to her. She had never known Gray behave with anything other than calm, brotherly affection; had never before seen him like this, driven, and almost aggressive towards her. She hated the thought of their relationship changing; of another woman coming between them.

      She told herself she was being unrealistic, selfish even, but it didn’t help.

      ‘I’m sorry about last night—things got a little out of control.’ Gray grimaced faintly as he handed Stephanie her breakfast. ‘I don’t normally let go like that.’

      He was watching her covertly, as though expecting … expecting what? Despite her own complicated feelings last night, Stephanie had made a vow that she would give Gray all the emotional support she could to sustain him during what she knew from her own experience would be a very traumatic time.

      ‘Carla’s husband and I are financial partners in the boat I’m sailing for the Fastnet—that’s how I met her.’

      Stephanie knew that her disquiet must have shown in her eyes, because Gray’s mouth twisted. ‘We can’t all love to order,’ he told her, curtly turning away from her. ‘We’ll leave for London this afternoon to collect your stuff. We’ll stay at your place overnight.’

      ‘You’ll have to sleep on the settee,’ she warned him.

      ‘It won’t matter for one night, and besides, I’d never get an hotel room at this time of year.’

      ‘No. London is packed with tourists. Have you much business to do?’

      Gray shook his head, pouring them both a second cup of coffee. ‘No, I should be through it by lunchtime, and then we can head back here in the afternoon. By the way, you’ll need a room to work in while you’re here. There’s an empty office down at the yard, will that do? I could show you it later.’

      This was more like the Gray she knew, and although it hurt her that he didn’t want to discuss Carla with her, part of her was glad. She was growing to hate the sound of the other woman’s name.

      She thought she’d been successful in keeping her thoughts hidden from him until he said softly, ‘What is it,