'I paid the cab fare from Heathrow, my treacherous little Katy, and now you are going to pay me.' He tore the jacket from her shoulders and the blouse followed suit.
'No...' She struggled, but her effort was soon dashed as he swung her high and carried her into the bedroom, dropping her unceremoniously down on to the wide bed.
Jake towered over her, huge and terrifyingly menacing. Never had she seen him so consumed with anger. There was a barely controlled violence in the way he looked at her. She raised a hand to her throat in an involuntary gesture, betraying her fear.
'Yes, my darling Katy, I could throttle you with my bare hands, but first...' his eyes raked her crumpled form and with a minimum of effort he stripped the clothes from her body '... I am going to expunge the touch of your friend Claude from every pore of your body.'
'No, you've got it wrong!' she cried. 'Let me explain!' But she was too late.
Jake lowered his body on to the bed, trapping her slender body with his own. His mouth covered hers, insensitive to the pain he was causing as he savagely kissed her until she felt the taste of her own blood on her tongue. But the ravishment did not stop with a kiss.
His mouth searched and found the rosy tip of her breast while his hands roamed the length of her body with devastating thoroughness, teasing and tormenting until she whimpered in despair at her own frailty. Mindless, she wrapped her slender arms around him— she had no idea when he had shed his clothes—and her nails raked his broad back. She almost screamed as his mouth travelled lower to achieve her ultimate devastating capitulation. She heard her own voice begging him to take her.
Jake complied with one single savage thrust; her body arched off the bed and her long legs wrapped around his waist. Her keening cry was trapped in her throat as his mouth closed over hers again.
Later, how much later she had no idea, Jake rolled off the bed and stood looking down on her nakedness.
'You're a beautiful woman, Katy, but with the soul of a whore. I thought I could...' He stopped.
Katy flinched at the unadulterated hatred that shone in his dark eyes. 'Could what?' she whispered.
'Nothing. Pack your bags and get out. I never want to set eyes on you again.' And with that, totally unconscious of his own magnificent nudity, he casually picked up his clothes. He cast her one contemptuous glance and added, 'I want you out of here in half an hour. Anything you leave I will send on to your apartment,' and he walked out of the room.
She squeezed her eyes tightly closed. She would not cry. This was the end and perhaps it was for the best. At least she still had some pride. He would never know how much she loved him. Or that she was having his child. A harsh dry laugh rattled in her throat. The decision of whether to tell him about the baby was made for her. She had been frightened he would insist on marriage for the child's sake. When in reality if Jake knew he would probably insist on her getting rid of it. He would never tolerate a woman of her supposedly lax morals having his child...
CHAPTER NINE
Katy dragged herself up and swung her long legs over the side of the bed. She paused for a moment, her head bowed, her long golden hair falling like a tangled curtain either side of her face. Jake had told her to leave. It had had to happen some time, but like acid dropping on a stone the reality of her situation was seeping into her tired mind. The injustice of his remarks, his fury because she had gone to Paris and stayed with Claude, suddenly struck her as totally unfair.
So what if Jake did imagine Claude was her old lover? He never gave her a chance to explain; instead he had... She shuddered. The force of his lovemaking had totally swamped her feeble resistance, and her body had betrayed her yet again. She lifted her head, tossing the hair from eyes that were narrowed in fury. But not any more, she vowed silently.
She got to her feet and with quick, jerky movements she gathered underwear from the drawer and threw it on the bed. She selected a pair of briefs and a bra, and headed for the shower.
Five minutes later she returned to the bedroom, and, flinging open all the wardrobe doors, she methodically removed dresses, skirts, all her own clothes, and tossed them to join the rest on the bed. She took particular care not to include any of the garments Jake had tricked her into accepting on their visit to Venice.
With the hectic pace of their social life in the past few weeks she had been forced to wear some of the evening clothes, as her own wardrobe was of excellent quality but quite meagre.
She dragged the suitcases from the adjoining dressing-room, cursing Jake under her breath. 'The swine, the flaming hypocrite.' She stopped long enough to pull on a pair of jeans and a soft blue lambswool sweater. Then, picking up a hairbrush, she savagely brushed the tangles from her hair and fastened it back in a pony-tail with a pale blue silk scarf. She didn't care what she looked like. She just wanted to get out.
Katy swept her arm along the dressing-table, emptying the bottles and jars into the suitcase. She hesitated at the small black lacquered jewellery box, her attention caught by the glitter of diamonds. She picked out the ring Jake had given her. A prop to fool an old lady. Jake's devious idea. Like all his other ideas, the devil!
Her lips tightened in disgust, with herself as much as him. She had allowed Jake to blackmail her into being his mistress, and had actually nursed the hope that by some miracle he might care for her, even though she knew his motive was revenge.
She had actually been prepared to forget his original reason for seducing her years ago. A smokescreen to deceive her father while sleeping with his wife Monica. God, but she had been a fool for far too long. A flash of green, and the pendant he had given her for her eighteenth birthday went into the pocket of her jeans along with the ring.
Well, Jake Granton was in for a big surprise, Katy thought furiously. All the hurt and humiliation he had inflicted on her bubbled to the surface and she physically shook with the force of her rage. She would leave all right. Haphazardly she packed the first suitcase, snapped it shut and dragged it to the door. The next followed very quickly.
Katy was panting, her face red with her exertions and a fiercely burning anger. She marched down the hall and into the lounge, her green eyes shooting fire; for once in her life she was going to tell the arrogant, devious bastard just what she thought of him.
'Good, you're ready. I'll call a cab. Your apartment, or the airport and Claude?' Jake enquired silkily.
Katy looked at him. 'You supercilious swine!' She couldn't control her reaction. He was leaning negligently against the window-sill. Clad in a casual white sweat-shirt and hip-hugging black jeans, he looked wickedly attractive; a swift stab of regret pierced her anger, but she quickly stamped on her wayward feelings.
His autocratic profile tautened. 'I should have remembered the old adage, "One cannot make a silk purse out of a sow's ear.'' It was a mistake for me to try. Once a whore, always a whore,' he drawled insultingly and stepped away from the window.
His last insult was too much for Katy's fragile self-control. She dashed across the room and slapped her slender hand over his on the telephone.
'Not so fast!' she spat.