The Yuletide Engagement & A Yuletide Seduction (27 page)

“Do you introduce all your friends to them, Gabe?” The derision could be heard in her voice.

He didn't even blink, his gaze remaining steady on hers. “The ones that matter, yes!”

She gave a humourless smile. “We barely know each other, Gabe. Did you introduce Jennifer to them before you married her?” she couldn't resist adding.

And then wished she hadn't! Jennifer had been his wife; their own relationship wasn't in the same category.

“As it happens, yes, I did.” He relaxed back in his chair, smiling lazily. “My father was bowled over by the way she looked; my mother hated her on sight.” He gave a wry chuckle. “I'm sure I don't have to tell you which one proved to be right!”

From what Jane knew of Jennifer Vaughan, men had always been “bowled over” by the way she looked. And the majority of women seemed to have disliked her intensely. Herself included.

“That can't have been easy for you,” Jane sympathised.

“Nothing about that relationship was easy for me,” he
acknowledged grimly. “And you're changing the subject again, Jane—”

“Because I don't want to meet your parents, Gabe,” she sighed, becoming impatient with his persistence.

“Why not?” he came back as bluntly as she had minutes ago.

“Several reasons—”

“Name them,” he put in forcefully, no longer relaxed, sitting upright in his chair, his gaze narrowed on her.

“I was about to,” she rebuked softly; she did not want to get into an argument about this; she disliked arguments intensely. There had been too many of them with Paul. “Firstly, it puts a completely erroneous light on our friendship.” She deliberately used the casual term, knowing he had registered that fact by the way his mouth tightened ominously. “And secondly,” she added less confidently, knowing she was going to have that argument whether she wanted it or not, “I don't think the two of us should see each other again after tonight!” It all came out in a rush, so desperate was she to get it over with as quickly as possible.

Gabe raised those expressive dark brows. “And exactly what brought this on?” he questioned mildly.

“Nothing ‘brought this on', Gabe,” she returned exasperatedly. “I've been telling you to go away, one way or another, since the night we first met!” For all the good it had done her!

“Exactly,” he nodded. “But this time you seem to mean it…” he said thoughtfully.

“I meant it all the other times too!” Jane claimed scathingly, wondering, in the light of the fact that she had now, inwardly at least, acknowledged her attraction
towards him, whether she
had
really meant all those other refusals she had given him…

“Did you?” Gabe seemed to doubt it too!

Of course she had meant them, she told herself strongly. Gabriel Vaughan was a man for her to avoid, not encourage. Besides, she was sure she hadn't encouraged him. Not consciously, at least…

But subconsciously? Had she been forceful enough in telling him to go away? She had thought so at the time. But—

Enough of this! It was just confusing her.

She stood up abruptly, intending to clear their plates. And there would be no cheese or dessert. After this conversation, a little earlier in the meal than she had anticipated, she acknowledged, it was time for Gabe to leave!

“I meant it, Gabe,” she told him forcefully. “I don't want to have dinner with you. I don't want to meet your parents. And, most important of all, I don't want to see you again! There, I can't be any plainer than that.” She looked down at him with challenging brown eyes.

He coolly returned her furious gaze. “And what about the Christmas present I got for you today?” he said softly.

Present? He had bought her a Christmas present? “I think you were a little premature in buying me anything!” she told him impatiently. “But with any luck you'll have found someone else before Christmas that you can give it to instead—after all, there are still a few days to go!”

“Hmm, so we're back to the insults, are we?” Gabe murmured thoughtfully as he stood up. “The present
was meant for you, Jane, not someone else,” he bit out harshly, reaching out to clasp her arms.

Jane suddenly had trouble breathing, knowing it was due to Gabe's close proximity. “I don't—”

“Want it,” he completed harshly. “You know, Jane, determination, and a certain independence of spirit, is to be admired in a woman. But not,” he added dismissively as she would have made an angry reply, “when they are taken to the extreme of pigheaded rudeness! You went past that point several minutes ago,” he added tightly.

“I—”

“Shut up, Jane,” he rasped, pulling her effortlessly towards him.

“You can't—”

“Please!” he added with a groan, his head bending and his lips claiming hers.

Jane melted.

It was as if she had been waiting for this moment since he had kissed her so lightly this morning. And there was nothing light or distracted about this kiss; all Gabe's attention was focused on the passion that flared up between them so easily. Like tinder awaiting the flame. And it seemed they were that flame for each other…

Her arms moved up about his neck, one hand clinging to the broad width of his shoulder, the other becoming entangled in the dark thickness of his hair, her body held tightly against his, moulded to each muscle and sinew.

Without removing his lips from hers Gabe swung her up into his arms and carried her over to the soft gold-coloured sofa, laying her down on it before joining her there, their bodies even closer now, their breath mingling, Gabe's hands moving restlessly over the slenderness of her back and thighs.

Jane gasped softly as one of those hands moved to cup her breast, the gently sloping curve fitting perfectly against his own flesh, the nipple responding instantly to the gentle caress of his thumb, the tip hardening to his touch, a pleasurable warmth spreading through her thighs all the way to the tips of her toes.

She wanted this man!

Not like this, with their clothes between them, she wanted the naked warmth of his body next to hers, wanted to feel his hard possession, wanted to give him the same pleasure he was undoubtedly giving her.

His hand was beneath the woollen cashmere of her jumper now, and he was groaning low in his throat at his discovery that she wasn't wearing a bra, her breast naked to his touch.

Her breasts had always been firm and uplifting, definitely one of her better assets, and she rarely saw the necessity to wear a bra.

She groaned low in her own throat now as Gabe pushed aside the woollen garment, his head bending as his lips claimed possession of that fiery tip, his tongue rasping with slow, moist pleasure across her sensitive flesh.

She was on fire, offered no protest when, hindered by its presence, Gabe pulled the jumper up over her head and discarded it completely. Her gaze was shy as she looked up at him and he looked at her with such pleasurable intensity.

“You're beautiful, Jane,” he murmured huskily. “But then, I always knew you would be!” he groaned before his head lowered, his mouth capturing hers with fierce intensity, passion flaring uncontrollably now, carrying
them both on a tide that was going to be impossible to stop.

Not that Jane had any thought of bringing this to an end. She wanted Gabe as badly as he appeared to want her. She had never known such need, such desire, trembling with anticipation, knowing—

“Oh, Janie, Janie!” Gabe groaned as he buried his face in the warmth of her neck, breathing in deeply of her perfume. “If you only knew how I've wanted this, how long I've needed to hold and kiss you like this.” His arms tightened about her as his lips travelled the length of her throat.

Jane felt cold. Icy.

Janie…

He had called her
Janie
. Only her father had ever called her by that pet name.

It could be coincidence, of course, Gabe's own arousal making him unaware of what he had just said.

Or just carelessness…?

Gabe tensed beside her, suddenly seeming to become aware of the way she had moved as far away from him as she was able on the confines of the sofa, slowly lifting his head so that he could look down at her, his expression—wary!

She wasn't mistaken.

It wasn't coincidence!

She moistened suddenly dry lips. “How long, Gabe?” she demanded coldly.

He frowned. “How long…?” he repeated, that wariness having increased.

She nodded, more certain with every second that passed that she wasn't mistaken in the conclusion she
had just come to. “How long have you known exactly who I am?” she said plainly.

Because he did know.

She was sure now that he did.

So why hadn't he told her that days ago…?

“H
OW
long have you known, Gabe?” she repeated in a steady voice, fully clothed again now, standing across the room looking over to where Gabe still sat on the couch.

He drew in a ragged breath, running agitated fingers through the darkness of his hair. “I—”

“Don't even attempt to avoid answering me, Gabe,” she warned harshly. “We both know—now—that you realise I was once Janette Smythe-Roberts!”

How long had he known? she asked herself again. And why hadn't he said so as soon as he made the discovery?

She literally went cold at the only explanation she could think of!

“You still are Janette Smythe-Roberts, damn it!” he rasped, standing up himself now, instantly dwarfing what had already seemed to her to be a space too small to hold them both.

She felt sick, had perhaps cherished some small hope inside her that he really didn't know. But his words confirmed that he did!

“Don't come near me.” Jane cringed away from him as he would have reached out and touched her. “You still haven't told me exactly how long you've known,” she prompted woodenly.

Or what he was going to do about it! He hadn't been behaving like a man still out to wreak vengeance, but perhaps making her want him was his way of exacting retribution…?

Gabe gave a weary sigh, shrugging wide shoulders. “I realised who you were about thirty seconds after I came into the kitchen with Felicity last week,” he admitted quietly.

Jane drew in a shaky breath, her arms wrapped about herself protectively. “That long? How on earth—?”

“Your hair may be a different colour, Jane,” he rasped. “And your face has taken on a certain maturity it didn't once have. But it's still the same face I remember,” he added huskily. “A face I'll never forget.”

She shook her head disbelievingly. “But I never even saw you face to face until last week—”

“But I saw you,” Gabe cut in firmly. “We were never actually introduced to each other, but I saw you at a party one evening with your husband.”

Her husband. Gabe's wife's lover. The man Jennifer had left him for.

She sighed. “I don't remember that evening.” She shook her head; a lot of the time before the accident was a blank to her, her misery as Paul's wife already well established.

“You looked beautiful that night,” Gabe recalled softly. “You were wearing a brown dress, the same colour as your eyes, little make-up that I could see—but then, you don't need make-up to enhance your beauty. And your hair—! I had never seen hair quite that colour before, or that long; it reached down to your waist like a curtain of gold! I didn't need to be introduced to you to
remember you, Jane—you stood out in that crowd like a golden light in darkness!”

Her mouth twisted scornfully. “Please stop waxing lyrical about me, Gabe; I was very unhappy at that time; I probably didn't even want to be there. I no longer loved my husband but felt trapped in the marriage—”

“Until he walked out of it!”

“Until Paul walked out of it,” she acknowledged shakily. “To be with your wife,” she added hardly.

Gabe shrugged. “So the fairy story goes,” he said dryly.

Jane gave him a sharp look. “There was no fairy-tale ending to that particular story—for any of us! And you've been playing with me for the last twelve days—”

“To what end?” he challenged harshly.

“I have no idea.” She sighed wearily. “I presume for the same reason you tried to find me after the accident.” She shrugged.

“The same reason. But not the one you think! And I backed off then when I heard the rumour that you had lost your baby,” he rasped.

“Did you?” she said heavily, no longer looking at him but staring sightlessly at her music centre. The CD had long since finished playing. But neither of them had noticed that fact; they'd been too engrossed in each other at the time. Which brought her back to Gabe's kisses and caresses. Was he still trying to make someone pay for what happened three years ago? “Then you know that if anyone was a victim of my husband's relationship with your wife, Gabe,” she bit out evenly, “it was my unborn baby!”

“Jane—”

“I told you not to come near me!” she flared as he
made a move towards her, her eyes flashing in warning. “What did you think when you met me again last week, Gabe?” She looked at him challengingly. “Did you see I had nothing left to lose and decide to hurt me in another way?”

He became suddenly still. “What way?”

“You tell me!” She smiled humourlessly. “Those conversations we had about Janette Smythe-Roberts.” She shook her head disgustedly. “You were playing with me all the time!” she realised self-derisively. And all the time she had thought she was the one not being completely honest!

“I was trying to get you to defend yourself!” Gabe returned impatiently. “But you didn't do it,” he added disappointedly.

“Didn't defend myself against being thought a cold-blooded, manipulative gold-digger? Someone who would take money from my parents and leave them almost penniless?” Jane looked at him scathingly. “As I told you once before, Gabe, you sweep through people's lives, uncaring of the chaos and pain you leave behind you—”

“That isn't true!” His hands were clenched angrily.

“Perhaps uncaring is the wrong word to use,” she conceded disgustedly. “You're simply unaware of it! Which is perhaps even worse. What do you think happens to people when you've stepped in and bought their company, possibly their life's work, out from under them? Do you think they simply shrug their shoulders and start all over again?” she challenged.

“It's business, Jane—”

“So my father said when he tried to explain your behaviour to me!” she scorned. “But I call it something else completely!”

Gabe drew in a harsh breath. “Let's not lose sight of the real villain here, Jane,” he rasped. “And it wasn't me!”

Paul… It always came back to Paul. And with thoughts of Paul came ones of Gabe's wife Jennifer…

“If you're going to blame Paul for this then let's include your wife in it too,” Jane said with distaste. “Who do you think he was trying to impress with his gambling and high living?”

Gabe became suddenly still. “I accept Jennifer's blame—”

“Do you?” Jane gave another mirthless smile. “She was beautiful, immoral, utterly uncaring of anyone but herself. She knew of my pregnancy, too, because Paul had told her, but it made no difference when she decided she wanted my husband—”

“Jennifer couldn't have children herself,” Gabe put in softly. “She'd had tests. She was infertile. Pregnant women represented a threat to her.”

Jane felt the momentary sadness that she would for any woman unable to have children of her own. But it was only momentary where Jennifer Vaughan was concerned. “That didn't give her the right to entice away the husbands of those women!”

“I agree.” Gabe sighed heavily. “But it's an inescapable fact that that's exactly what she did. With dire results in your particular case.”

Jane stared at him as she fully registered all that he had just said. “Are you telling me that that wasn't the first time Jennifer had done something like that?” It seemed incredible, but that was exactly what it sounded like he was saying!

He ran a weary hand across his brow. “Jennifer was
a very troubled woman. The fact that she couldn't have children—”

“I asked you a question, Gabe,” Jane cut in tautly.

He looked at her steadily. “I believe I've already told you that Jennifer was much more interested in other women's husbands than she was in her own—”

“But pregnant women in particular?” Jane persisted.

“Yes!” he acknowledged harshly, turning away. “To Jennifer there was nothing more beautiful than a pregnant woman. To her they seemed to glow. More importantly, they carried life inside them. A pregnant woman became the ultimate in beauty to her.”

“That's ridiculous!” Jane snapped. “Most pregnant women don't feel that way at all. Oh, there's a certain magic in creating life, in feeling that life growing inside you,” she remembered emotionally. “But for the most part you feel nauseous, and in the beginning it's a nausea that never seems to stop. And, added to that, you feel fat and unattractive—”

“Pregnant women aren't fat,” Gabe cut in softly. “They're blossoming.”

“That's a word only used by people who aren't pregnant,” Jane put in dismissively. “Believe me, most of us just feel fat!” And that feeling hadn't been helped, in her case, by the fact that Paul had obviously found her condition most unattractive!

“Maybe,” Gabe conceded with a sigh. “But to a woman who has never been pregnant, and who never can be, that isn't how pregnancy appears at all. Oh, I'm not excusing Jennifer's behaviour—”

“I hope not,” Jane told him tightly. “Because it isn't a good enough excuse as far as I'm concerned!” She had
lost her baby—the only good thing to come out of her marriage—because her husband had left her for Jennifer Vaughan, and the two of them had subsequently died together in a car crash. There was no excuse for that!

“It isn't a good enough excuse for any woman,” Gabe accepted heavily. “But it's what Jennifer did.”

“Then why didn't you leave her?” Jane frowned. “Why did you stay with her, and in doing so condone her behaviour?”

A nerve pulsed in his tightly clenched jaw. “I didn't condone it, Jane. I would never condone such behaviour. But I thought that by staying with her I could—” He shook his head. “I don't believe in divorce, Jane,” he told her abruptly. “And neither did Jennifer,” he added softly.

She became suddenly still, her frown deepening. Jennifer didn't believe in divorce…? “But she left you…”

Gabe sighed. “No. She didn't.”

“But—”

“I know that's what Paul told you three years ago, and it's what everyone else thought at the time too, but I can assure you, Jennifer was not leaving me.” He shook his head. “There were so many times I wished she would,” he admitted harshly. “But I was her safety net, the let-out when any of her little affairs became too serious. As Paul did…”

Jane was having trouble absorbing all of this now. Was Gabe really saying what she thought he was?

Paul had said he was leaving her, that he and Jennifer were going to be together.

“Are you telling me—?” She ran her tongue over suddenly dry lips. “Are you saying that Paul and Jennifer weren't going away together?”

“That's exactly what I'm saying.” Gabe nodded grimly. “Jennifer was furious the day of the accident. Paul had telephoned her to say he'd left you, and now he expected her to do the same to me. She met him that day only so that she could tell him what a fool he was, that she had no intention of leaving me, that he had better hurry home and make it up with his wife before she decided his leaving had been the best thing that ever happened to her! Her words, Jane, not mine,” Gabe told her bleakly.

But it had already been too late for Paul to do that. She might not already have realised that Paul's leaving “had been the best thing that ever happened to her”, but Paul had been in too deeply in other ways to backtrack on his decision. As her father's assistant, he had stolen money from the company, and in doing so had brought that company almost to the point of ruin.

“I've often wondered if it was an accident,” Gabe murmured softly, as if partly reading her thoughts.

Jane looked at him dazedly. Not an accident? What was he saying, suggesting? But hadn't she just told herself there had been no way back for Paul, that he had already burnt his bridges, both professionally and privately? But could he have thought that there was no reason to carry on? No, she wouldn't believe that! Paul had been too selfish, too self-motivated, to take his own and Jennifer's lives.

“It's something we'll never know the answer to,” Gabe continued gently. “Probably something best not known.”

Jane agreed with him. That sort of soul-searching could do neither of them any good. No matter what the reason for doing so…

“Love is a very strange emotion,” she said dully. “It appears to grow and exist for people who really don't deserve it.” And Jennifer Vaughan certainly hadn't deserved Gabe's, or any other man's, love. And yet who but a man in love could ever have thought her the “perfection” he had once called her?

“Death is rather final,” Gabe muttered. “But you're still well rid of Paul Granger!”

“I've never—” She shook her head. “We're getting away from the point here—”

“Maybe I caught that from you.” Gabe attempted to tease, although he couldn't even bring himself to smile, let alone encourage her to do so. “What is the point here, Jane? You tell me.” He shook his head. “Because I've certainly lost it!”

For the main part, so had she! Except that Gabe had known exactly who she was for the last twelve days. And for reasons of his own he had chosen to keep that fact to himself!

She looked at him coldly. “The point is that for me the past is as dead and buried as Paul himself is. Why do you think I've been asking you to go away for the last twelve days? Because you remind me of a time I would rather forget,” she told him bluntly.

Gabe looked pale now. “I didn't imagine what happened between us a short time ago—”

“It's been a long time for me, Gabe,” she said scornfully. “My marriage may have been a mistake, but despite all that I'm still a normal woman, with normal desires, and you—”

“Just happened to be here!” he finished disgustedly. “Is that it, Jane?”

No, that wasn't it! She had met plenty of other men
over the last three years, much more suitable men, men just as handsome as he was, just as interested in a relationship with her. And she hadn't responded to any of them, hadn't allowed any of them as close to her as this man had got in a matter of days.