Carole Mortimer - Trust In Summer Madness

But it wasn’t now! Dear God, did Bethany have no sense? It seemed not; her sister still had that dreamy enthralled look in her eyes.

Jarrett seated himself in an armchair with a confidence that knew no limits, resting the ankle of one leg on the knee of the other, his gaze steady and assured as he looked up at the two standing women.

‘I—er—I invited Jarrett in for coffee.’ Bethany at least seemed compelled to talk.

‘Really?’ Sian said stiffly, having no intention of going to bed and leaving Jarrett alone down here with her sister. She remembered too many occasions in the past when she and Jarrett had been stretched out side by side on that sofa, their lovemaking silent but impassioned while her father and sister slept on unaware upstairs.

Jarrett’s gaze was narrowed on her face, his brows raised questioningly as her thoughts made her blush. ‘I suggest you go and make that coffee, Bethany,’ he said deeply. ‘For three.’

‘None for me,’ Sian refused abruptly. ‘It’s getting rather late, Bethany,’ she added pointedly.

Her sister flushed resentfully. ‘Jarrett?’

‘I’d like coffee,’ he drawled challengingly.

With a defiant look in Sian’s direction Bethany went off to the kitchen.

Sian was very conscious of being completely alone with Jarrett, of him sitting only a few feet away. And she didn’t like it, she had a feeling of being manoeuvred.

‘Your fiancé has gone?’ he asked softly.

She kept her face stiffly averted. ‘Yes.’

‘He knew about us.’ It was a statement, not a question.

‘Yes.’

Jarrett stood up, at once seeming predatory, and Sian took a wary step backwards. His mouth twisted derisively. ‘I never needed to use force on you, Sian,’ he drawled mockingly.

‘You would now,’ she snapped.

‘If I were interested,’ he watched with satisfaction as she paled, ‘and I am,’ he added softly. ‘I telephoned you earlier tonight, as soon as I got to town, but you weren’t at home,’ he told her huskily, suddenly very near, the heat of his body, the seduction of his aftershave, reaching out to her.

Sian refused to look at him. ‘Why on earth would you telephone me?’ she asked jerkily.

Suddenly he was more than just close, he was dangerously so, the lean length of his body curving into the back of her as his arms came about her waist and pulled her into him. ‘Guess,’ he murmured throatily against her earlobe.

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