Melinda Hammond, author

MOONSHADOWS

The lounge of the Old Manor was quiet and welcoming after the smoky after-dinner atmosphere of the banqueting room. Jez chose her favourite spot on one of the sofas by the fire.

“Brandy, coffee or both?” Piers noticed her hesitation and added, “I’m having both.”

“Then I’ll have the same, thank you.” She leaned back against the cushions and gave an exaggerated sigh. “This is heaven. So peaceful.”

Piers settled himself on one end of the sofa and turned so that he could watch her, one arm resting along the back of the cushions and a faint smile in his dark eyes. “You wouldn’t prefer to finish the evening clubbing in Birmingham?”

“No way. I’m not a party animal. I prefer a small gathering of friends, or even curling up at home with a good book. Very boring. But what about you, what do you do when you are not working?”

“When I can take a few weeks off I like to go sailing, or skiing. Do you sail?’

“No, but I’ve been skiing a couple of times.” She sipped at her brandy and looked up to find Piers giving her an appraising glance. Was he thinking how good she would look in ski pants? The thought warmed her even more than the spirit in her glass.

“What about when you’re in London?” she asked. ‘“Where do you go?”

“I rarely go out in town, except for a meal with a few close friends, maybe.”

“But there’s so much going on in London! What about the theatre? You must have the best shows in the country. Just think of it, all those plays and new productions, not to mention the musicals. Then there’s the ballet and opera—God, if I lived in London I’d want to go to something new at least once a week!”

“Not much fun on your own.”

She laughed at him.

“Poor little rich boy! Don’t tell me you can’t find someone to go with you. You are always being photographed with some gorgeous blonde on your arm.”

Hell, she shouldn’t have said that, he would think she was jealous. She put down her glass. The brandy was making her reckless.

Piers merely shrugged. “Yes, but that’s usually when I’ve been invited to attend something as Chairman of CME, not plain old Piers Cordeaux. Besides, most of ’em don’t actually like the arts much.”

She said quietly, “It must be very lonely at the top.”

“You get used to it. Now what’s wrong—are you feeling sorry for me?”

Alarm bells were clamouring in her head. The conversation was getting dangerous. Jez sought frantically for a flippant response.

She opened her eyes wide. “What, impoverished Jez Skelton pitying the rich Mr. Cordeaux? Impossible!”

“I’m not so sure you’re impressed by my money.”

“I’m not. I’m more impressed that you are such a nice guy, despite your money and power. At least you don’t flaunt your success in people’s faces.”

“Thank you.”

“Sorry. That sounds like I’m creeping.” She looked up to find him watching her, smiling. Her stomach lurched and dissolved within her. She looked away quickly from those disturbing deep blue eyes. “Is that the time? I’d better get some sleep if I’m going to be fit for anything tomorrow.”

“I’ll see you to your room.”

The thick carpets deadened their footsteps in the empty corridors as they made their way through the old house. With Piers at her side, Jez’s nerves were at full stretch. She wanted to take his hand, put her arm through his. To belong.

“Um—are we meeting up with Lavinia tomorrow? I’ll need a lift back to Filchester.”

“They will be having a sales briefing first at their hotel. Don’t worry. I’ll drive you home.”

“Thank you.”

They had reached her room but before Jez could speak again, Piers wished her good night and was walking away. She stepped inside and closed the door.

“Damn, damn, damn!” She threw her bag down in disgust. Here she was, dressed to kill and she had let him walk off without even a goodnight kiss. Perhaps he didn’t fancy her—but that was not the point, she argued with herself. She knew she looked good in the cream dress, she had been aware of him looking at her several times during the evening. So why hadn’t he tried anything?

Because you told him you’re not available, came the obvious reply, but it did not satisfy her. She paced the room restlessly. “Oh this is stupid!” she said aloud. “Go run yourself a bath and forget it. You know very well you can’t have him.”

But she had never felt such a strong attraction before, not even for Harry when they had first started going out together. She perched on the edge of the bath, watching the hot water pour in. It was obviously a case of wanting what was not available. She reached for one of the complimentary packets of bath oil and poured it into the water. She might as well pamper herself.

As she was about to step into the bath, there was a sudden knock at the door. Jez froze. Excitement swept through her. Calm down, she told herself sternly. It’s probably room service with the wrong number. Probably.

Pulling on her robe, Jez opened the door cautiously. She was expecting to find Piers there but even so, when she saw him in the doorway, her heart gave a somersault. She fell back automatically, and he stepped into the room. He was still wearing his dinner jacket, but he had discarded the black tie.

He held up the bottle of champagne and glasses that he was carrying. “I thought this might just finish off the evening.”

Jez’s insides were mimicking the fizz of the champagne as she looked up at him. The glint in his eyes sent a shiver through her.

“I—um—I was just going to have a bath…”

His mouth curved into a slow grin.

“Then we can share that, too.” He kicked the door shut. “Champagne now, or shall I put it in the minibar for later?”

She couldn’t take her eyes from his face while her brain seemed to have stopped working. Piers was here, in her room. She watched, rooted to the spot, while he put down the champagne.

“I’m breaking my own rules here,” he said, reaching for her.

“R-rules?”

“I never mix business with pleasure. At least, I haven’t until now.”

As he drew her towards him Jez felt a wave of joyous exultation. It was a heady mix of excitement, pleasure and, yes, lust. She lifted her head, her lips parting to receive his kiss. The touch of his lips shocked her. This was no gentle, exploratory caress: it was demanding, possessive, reaching to her very core. She gave herself up to him willingly, winding her arms around his neck and kissing him back with a passion she did not know she possessed. She stifled a moan of disappointment when he lifted his head. His hold did not slacken and he looked down at her, his eyes as black as coal. His breathing was as ragged as her own.

“Let’s not rush it,” he muttered. “I’ve waited a long time for this. I want to make it special.” Almost reluctantly he put her away from him. “Finish running that bath. I’ll join you in a moment.”

*   *   *