Hunter's Moon. Carole Mortimer
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‘Young Grey, I suppose,’ he grated, his gaze narrowed on her speculatively. ‘Oh, yes, Cassandra, I’ve heard the rumours of your affair with him.’ His mouth twisted contemptuously.
‘My what?’ she gasped incredulously. ‘I’m not having an affair with Simeon!’ she protested irritably. ‘He and I are friends——’
‘You go out together,’ Jonas accused.
‘Well—yes,’ she acknowledged, colour entering her cheeks. ‘But as friends. Not that I can see what it has to do with you anyway——’
‘You’re my brother’s widow, the mother of my niece, of course it interests me what men you have in your life——’
‘I don’t have “men” in my life,’ Cassandra protested heatedly. ‘Only Simeon. And he——’
“‘Only Simeon”,’ Jonas echoed tauntingly. ‘What is it, Cassandra? Is he no danger because his tastes don’t run to women?’
‘Simeon has a normal interest in women as far as I know,’ she defended, indignant on his behalf; just because Simeon was involved in the fashion business didn’t mean he was automatically homosexual.
‘As far as you know,’ Jonas repeated softly, moving in that stealthy way of his now, suddenly standing very close to her. ‘Hasn’t he tried to make love to you yet?’ he challenged.
She swallowed hard, her cheeks feeling very warm now. ‘Of course he hasn’t!’ she snapped, wishing he wouldn’t stand so close to her; she was starting to feel very hot indeed, all over!
Jonas’s hand came up to cup one side of her heated face, his eyes narrowed on her widely distressed ones. ‘Why don’t I believe you?’ he murmured softly. ‘Possibly because of the passion I see here.’ His thumb-pad moved caressingly close to her wide golden eyes. ‘And the promise I can feel here.’ That thumb moved over her bottom lip now. ‘And the desire that pulses here.’ His hand moved down to the hollows of her throat, gently caressing still. ‘I was right about this dress, Cassandra,’ he told her softly, looking down at her body sheathed in the gold-coloured gown. ‘You do look like a high priestess in it.’
He was standing so close to her now that Cassandra could feel the heat of his body, and the touch of that marauding hand was doing strange things to her limbs; she was having difficulty standing up! She swayed slightly towards him, and as she did so she saw the light of triumph in his eyes, starting to pull back as she did so.
But it was too late; Jonas had already thrust her away from him, looking at her coldly now. ‘No,’ he rasped harshly, ‘I don’t believe you at all, Cassandra.’ He looked at her contemptuously. ‘You and Charles must have made a great pair, he so self-centred and you so glad to give him what he wanted as long as you got what you wanted in return!’
‘Get out,’ Cassandra choked. ‘Get out of my house.’ It was still hers—just!
Jonas’s mouth twisted. ‘Quite like old times!’ He taunted, reminding her of the fact that she had thrown him out the first time he had come here too. ‘Oh, I’m going, Cassandra, don’t worry. I had wanted to talk to you again before I left for the States in the morning but——’
‘You’re going to America tomorrow?’ Cassandra gasped incredulously; he had given no indication of that earlier today.
His eyes narrowed. ‘Is there some problem with that?’
‘Well, no… But——’
‘Good,’ he accepted with brisk dismissal. ‘We can talk again when I get back.’
Cassandra hurried after him as he strode over to the door. ‘But——’
‘Yes, Cassandra?’ He turned so sharply that she almost walked into him. She looked up into the hard coldness of his face, shivering slightly at the cruelty she could see there; he knew exactly what he was doing, was well aware of how worried she was about the conversation they had had earlier. Damn him!
‘Nothing,’ she told him through gritted teeth. ‘It can wait until you get back.’
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