‘No, you can not. A new car was a necessity; that old rust-bucket of your father’s is ready for the scrap heap, and you can’t risk your baby’s life, let alone your own, in that thing.’
Some of the shine went out of the gift for Josie at his comment. ‘Well, thank you again; it’s very nice.’
‘You can thank me properly when I get back—or improperly if you like,’ he drawled sexily.
Her stomach clenched with a shaft of longing so intense, she almost moaned. Instead she wriggled under the bedclothes and the safety of the distance between them gave her the confidence to respond daringly. ‘I might just do that, Conan. But what exactly do you mean by improperly?’ She heard his swiftly indrawn breath, and grinned.
‘Josie! Now you ask, when the Atlantic is between us! What are you trying to do to me?’
‘Encourage you to return. This bed is far too big and cold for me alone.’ She chuckled out loud at her own audacity.
‘Why, you little tease!’ Conan laughed. ‘I hope you’re as brave when I’m in bed with you.’ His voice dropped. ‘Every luscious inch of you naked, exposed for my eyes only. I want to sip at your breast, and taste you with my tongue until you’re delirious with desire.’ It was his turn to tease and it was Josie’s turn to catch her breath at the image he evoked in her mind’s eye.
‘Yes, well... Do you realise what time it is? One o’clock in the morning,’ she said inanely to cover her pounding heart.
‘The next time we talk at one in the morning I’ll be in bed with you, and I won’t let you change the subject so easily—that’s a promise,’ he declared huskily. ‘But I’m sorry for waking you, though I wouldn’t have missed this conversation for the world. I’ll be back as soon as I can.’
‘Make it quick,’ she breathed, her body flushed with heat, and then a sudden attack of nerves had her adding, ‘Happy Christmas, but if you don’t mind...’ She paused.
‘You’re tired; I understand. Give my regards to the old men. And, Josie I really am sorry I can’t be with you, but Angela has tried everything without success.’
Josie stiffened, the mention of Angela enough to cool her overheated flesh. ‘Tell her thanks, but...’ she yawned loudly ‘...I really must get some sleep.’
‘I know, darling. Merry Christmas. I’ll be thinking of you, and I’ll be back by next Tuesday at the latest.’
‘Don’t hurry on my account,’ she said, more sharply than she had intended, but the mention of Angela had been enough to dent her optimism.
‘I’ll see you soon,’ were the last words she heard as she replaced the receiver.
Josie curled up in bed, and replayed the conversation in her mind. She loved Conan, totally, and the sound of his voice alone was enough to make her ache with frustrated desire. But it was going to be almost another week before she saw him. In the meantime he was with Angela! Though that did not necessarily mean he was sleeping with the woman, she told herself staunchly. Whatever the reason for their marriage, Josie knew when Conan held her he wanted her. Even a man of his experience couldn’t fake his body’s reaction so convincingly. She had decided it was time to give Conan the benefit of the doubt, and their marriage a chance, and she was not going to change her mind now. When he returned she would be a loving, sexy wife and maybe propinquity would do the rest.
By the following Monday, when she drove her new car into Cheltenham to work, she was almost happy. But when the telephone rang at nine the next night the burgeoning hope she had entertained of starting a meaningful relationship with her husband was killed stone-dead...
It was Angela, calling from London. Conan had asked her to relay a message. He was still delayed in America, but he hoped to be back by the weekend. Josie might have believed the message was genuine, had it not been for the background noise of a party in progress, and a whispered aside she was not supposed to hear.
‘Shhh, Con; she might hear you and guess you’re already back,’ Angela drawled huskily.
Josie carefully replaced the receiver, and, using tiredness as an excuse, she said goodnight to the old men and walked upstairs.
Stripping off her clothes, she asked herself, Why? Why did she torture herself so? She had known from the start her love was hopeless. Josie stared at the engagement ring and gold band on her finger. They were only for appearance’s sake, as was her marriage. She had to stop fooling herself. She had to block Conan out of her mind once and for all.
Josie tried. She drove the Major and her father down to Southampton for their cruise, and waved a cheery goodbye. The weekend came and went with another brief telephone call from Angela. Conan was still delayed. With a heightened sense of determination Josie spent her time reading the book on childbirth she had bought, and started massaging her swollen stomach with baby oil religiously every night. The baby was her only priority.
Walking into the kitchen on Wednesday morning, Josie sighed at the grim expression on Mrs M.’s face. The old lady did not approve of her working, and Josie listened in silence as the housekeeper declared that it had snowed all night, and Josie had to be mad to go out.
Ignoring the dire warning, and driving in to the office, Josie told herself she felt better than she had done in months. A new year, a new life, new hope. Who needed a man?
But at five-thirty in the evening, when she parked her car and walked into the dimly lit hall of the Manor, her confidence took a nose-dive.
‘So you’re finally home!’
She jumped in surprise, the familiar deep, sexy voice shaking her to the core. Conan was leaning nonchalantly against the wood frame of the sitting-room door. Over six feet of solid muscle that the conservative business suit he wore could not tame. Every nerve in her body tightened in direct response to the sensual impact of the man. Nothing had changed. Josie swallowed a groan, frozen to the spot, intensely aware of him.
‘What are you doing here? I didn’t see your car,’ she said, her voice higher than she would have wished.
‘I parked it round the side,’ Conan straightened and moved towards her, his dark golden eyes glinting with mocking amusement. ‘I thought to surprise my wife, but then I was expecting a more enthusiastic greeting from you,’ he drawled, and, pulling her unresisting figure against the hard length of his, he covered her mouth with his own.
Only when she was breathless and trembling in every limb did he break the kiss. Looking down at her and noting her dazed violet eyes he said smoothly, ‘That’s more like it. Happy Christmas, Josie.’