Jennifer Taylor - Playing at Love

The door closed softly, the sound echoing almost painfully in the sudden silence. Louise took one long deep breath, then another for good measure, then pushed herself out of Wyatt Lord’s arms.

‘I don’t know what that was all about, Mr Lord,’ she began stormily, twin spots of colour burning angrily in her cheeks, ‘and I don’t think I really want to know! I just want to tell you that I have never...never...been so...so...insulted in the whole of my life!’

‘No?’ He raised a mocking brow, his eyes cold as they skimmed her flushed face. ‘If you carry on living the way you have been, then I’m sure time will remedy that.’

He turned to walk back through to the bathroom, but Louise caught his arm, her fingers leaving white pressure marks against his tanned skin. ‘And what do you mean by that? Look, you’ve done nothing but throw veiled insults at me since we met, but why?’

‘I think this discussion can wait until I’m dressed, don’t you?’

She hung on tightly, her face burning with anger as she glared back at him. ‘It’s not waiting for anything! Understand? I spent the best part of the night here taking care of you, and all I get for my pains is insults, and I want to know why. The same as I want to know what you thought you were doing telling that woman that we...we...’

She couldn’t quite bring herself to say the words, but he had none of her reservations. ‘Slept together? Come on, why put on this little act? Outraged virginal modesty sits oddly on your shoulders, Louise. Why pretend that we don’t both know what you’re up to here in this hotel?’ He held her gaze for a second, then removed the towel from around his hips, smiling coldly at her shocked gasp as he strode naked as the day he was born to the wardrobe and pulled out underwear and jeans and a pale blue T-shirt.

He stepped into a pair of white boxer shorts, watching her steadily as he drew them up around his slim hips. ‘What, no more maidenly protests? Of course not. You’ve probably seen more men naked than a dozen women would see in their lifetime, isn’t that right? So let’s stop all this play-acting, shall we?’

Too late Louise realised that she’d been standing there staring at him. She spun round, closing her eyes as she tried to compose herself again, but all she could see behind her closed lids was a picture of Wyatt Lord standing there naked, his broad chest tanned under the thick pelt of hair, his hips paler than the rest of his body. She swallowed down a soft moan of protest, then turned round to face him again, knowing that somehow they had to sort this mess out.

‘Yes, I’ve seen men naked before, but that doesn’t mean that I appreciate your acting this way. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this sort of treatment, Mr Lord; I don’t really care. All I want is for you to set the record straight and tell Carling Hutton the truth.’

He zipped the jeans, then pulled the T-shirt over his head, finger-combing the thick, glossy strands of black hair back into place. ‘That is something I have no intention of doing. I’m quite happy to have her think that she interrupted a tender little scene here in this room.’

‘But why?’ Louise ran a shaking hand over the creased folds of the thin blue robe, her fingers worrying the soft fabric. ‘I just don’t understand any of this, not what you told that woman, nor all the horrible things you keep on saying to me.’

‘The truth hurts, eh? It’s easier just to pass off what you’re doing without really thinking about it, isn’t it?’ His eyes traced her slender body with open contempt. ‘You are a beautiful woman, Louise, but you don’t need me to tell you that. You are well aware of your own charms, and use them.’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘No? Then explain to me why you are staying in this hotel, a hotel that caters for a clientele far older than you. You must be...what, twenty-three...four?’ At her nod he continued, ‘Are you really here just to enjoy a holiday in luxurious and peaceful surroundings, as the hotel brochure boasts? Or are you here to use that beauty of yours to ensnare some rich old man who’ll provide you with the luxury you want from life?’

‘What? No!’ Horrified, she stared back at him. ‘You’ve got it wrong! I can’t imagine where you got such a ridiculous idea from!’

‘Can’t you? Not so ridiculous when I have seen and heard evidence to back up every word I just said.’

‘What evidence? What are you talking about?’

He folded his arms and leant easily against the wardrobe. ‘You should be more careful, Louise, if you hope to maintain this pretence of innocence. You forget that our rooms adjoin and that sound carries through the walls.’ He raised a dark brow, then continued when she made no attempt to speak. ‘The day I moved into this room I heard you—how shall I put it delicately?—entertaining a gentleman friend. Monday, it was. Then there’s been all the frequent comings and goings to your room at odd hours, coincidentally by a gentleman of advanced years. I heard him talking about you by the pool the other day. It was most enlightening. He was most complimentary about your sensitive hands and your touch like an angel, if I remember his words correctly.’ He shook his head so that the light from the window bounced flashes of blue fire off its raven darkness. ‘I never imagined that it was possible to come up with so many glowing compliments, but he managed it. He seems truly besotted, so all it needs now is for you to choose your time and then get him well and truly hooked.’

Louise stared at him in dumb silence when he stopped speaking, her mind racing in a dozen different directions as it made sense out of what he’d said, but a far different sense than he’d made!

The man he was talking about, a certain Mr Holden, had fallen and cut his leg badly on the way to the airport. Louise had sat next to him and his wife on the flight over and offered to change the dressings when his wife had confessed that she hated the sight of blood! The cut had been healing nicely, thanks to her attentions and the frequent changes of dressings.

It was such an innocent explanation to a far from innocent accusation, leaving only the mystery of her ‘entertaining’ in her room, and that could be explained very simply: Carol and Simon. Louise had found them in the room when she’d got back from a solo sightseeing tour on Monday, and had steadfastly turned a blind eye to their rapturous expressions!

It was all so simple to explain in just a few brief sentences, yet, looking at Wyatt Lord, Louise knew without the shadow of a doubt that he would never believe her. He seemed determined to see her in the worst light possible, although for the life of her she couldn’t understand why.

‘Look, Mr Lord, you seem to have got an entirely wrong impression here.’

‘Wyatt.’ He stood up straight, flexing the heavy muscles in his shoulders. ‘You may as well get used to calling me that right from the start. And to answer your statement, Louise, I don’t think I’ve got anything wrong. On the contrary I can see quite clearly what’s been going on here in this hotel.’

He was so pigheadedly arrogant! He’d formed this ridiculous opinion of her, and nothing, not even the truth, was going to make him change his mind. Louise drew herself up to her full five feet five and glared back at him. ‘I can see it’s pointless trying to talk to you. You’re entitled to your opinions, but it’s just a pity if they are the wrong ones.’ She started to walk past him, stopping abruptly when he caught her arm. ‘Do you mind?’ she demanded haughtily, staring down at his large hand fastened around her forearm. ‘I want to go back to my room. This discussion is over and done with as far as I’m concerned.’