frowned at her before saying stiffly, ‘Spare me the shrieks of maidenly modesty; this isn’t some kind of sexual come-on. I’d be saying exactly the same thing to another man, and, given the choice between a man, a woman or a dog to share the sleeping-bag with me right now, I’d prefer the dog.’
Emily was quite sure that he would, and she knew what he was saying was the only sensible course of action open to them. Even so, something vulnerable and tender inside her shrank from the intimacy of what she knew must be done. To sleep so physically closely to this hard, cynical man, who had shown her so clearly what he thought of her and of her sex, was so directly opposed to all the dreams she had once held and cherished that it was as though that part of her emotions she had managed to blank off when Gerry hurt her had suddenly sprung into painful, hurting life; and, she thought miserably, how typical of her it was that the first time she should share such intimacy with a man had to be with one who had made it witheringly plain just how unappealing he found her.
What did she want, she asked herself crossly—to make love here in this cold, uncomfortable vehicle, with a man who was a stranger to her? Or was it simply that she wished for once in her life to see herself as desirable in a man’s eyes? Did she simply ache for the panacea of knowing that, had she wanted to pursue it, the opportunity to arouse him sexually was there?
What was happening to her? she wondered nervously. Was it because she had spent the last four days witnessing the very obvious sexual chemistry between Gracie and Travis? Was it because she had known that at night the two of them were wrapped in one another’s arms…sharing the kind of ecstasy she herself had once dreamed of knowing?
Horrible to see herself as the kind of person who could feel envious of another’s happiness…who could actually bitterly resent the unfairness of a fate that had given her such yearning romantic ideals and, at the same time, ensured that her looks and her personality must make the fulfilment of those ideals nothing more than an impossible fantasy. Far better if she could have, as her mother had once said, settled for a dull, pragmatic husband and an equally dull, placid life, instead of yearning for the intensity of passion and desire.
She was quiet for so long that Matt actually began to think she was going to refuse. Idiotic woman, he fumed. Did she really think that he would actually want to take advantage of their intimacy, here in this uncomfortable and unromantic setting?
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, wishing he had not had a sudden and disconcerting image of her lying on soft, clean sheets, her silky hair tumbling round her shoulders the way it had done while she was asleep, those amazing grey eyes slumberous with passion, that delicate, feminine body arched in eager supplication towards his own.
He ground his teeth, infuriated by his own weakness. It was that damned perfume she was wearing…it was conjuring up all manner of erotic images.
‘Look, if you imagine that—’
‘I’m not imagining anything,’ Emily lied quickly, adding as calmly as she could, ‘Of course, you’re right. We have no option other than to share the sleeping-bag.’ She gave a small shiver, aware that already she was getting cold and, worse, that her legs were slowly growing almost numb. It was that knowledge that provoked her into action.
‘I’m afraid I’m going to have to take off my jeans,’ she reminded him nervously.
‘Yes,’ he agreed tersely, wondering why on earth he was behaving like such a fool. Did he really prefer to risk suffering hypothermia than to matter-of-factly point out to her that both of them were likely to remain far warmer inside the sleeping-bag if they both removed their jeans and sweaters and allowed their combined body heat to circulate between them more effectively?
Emily’s heart sank as he grimly announced these facts. She knew that he was speaking the truth, but the thought of lying next to him stripped down to her bra and briefs was a very daunting prospect.
‘I think perhaps we should have a cup of coffee and a sandwich first,’ she suggested hesitantly, waiting for him to mock her obvious reluctance to undress—but to her surprise he agreed, almost as though he felt as uncomfortable with the situation as she did herself.
It was a novel thought. Her only experience of male sexual behaviour was restricted to Gerry, and Gerry would have been very quick indeed to torment someone in her position. Gerry enjoyed inflicting emotional pain. She had quickly recognised that once the scales had been ripped from her eyes.
A little to her own astonishment she heard herself saying quietly, ‘My father is in a local voluntary rescue team. I know he’d be the first to agree with everything you’ve said.’
His head came up and he looked at her. ‘In that case I’m surprised he allowed you to drive anywhere tonight.’
Emily didn’t tell him that her parents had themselves been on the verge of leaving, this time for the rain forests of Brazil. Instead of telling him this she said coolly, ‘I’m an adult, not a child. I make my own decisions.’
She watched as his mouth compressed. He had a rather nice mouth beneath that straggly beard. His bottom lip was full and curved. She wondered hazily what it would feel like to touch it with her fingertips, and then swallowed nervously as her stomach plunged in shock at her own wayward thoughts.
‘An adult! You’re, what…eighteen? Nineteen?’ He was scowling at her again.
‘Actually,’ she told him shakily, ‘I’m twenty-six.’
Twenty-six! He stared at her. It must be because she was so small that she looked so much younger. Twenty-six…a woman, not a child…and so not innocent, either, despite the fact that those huge grey eyes seemed so unaware and unawakened.
‘I’ll get the coffee,’ he told her austerely. ‘You’d better get those jeans off.’
For such a large man he was surprisingly light on his feet, Emily reflected, as he managed to manoeuvre himself between the two front seats to crawl into the rear of the vehicle.
Her own hands had become awkward and clumsy, or perhaps it was the thick and unfamiliar fabric of the jeans that waywardly refused to respond to her demands. Whatever the cause, it seemed to take her ages to tug off the clammy fabric.
Once she had done so she was grateful for the huge oversized sweatshirt, which reached down almost to her knees…and not just for the warmth it offered, but because it concealed the minute briefness of her underwear which had been chosen because she had liked the pretty delicacy of the embroidered satin, and which she had never intended should be exposed to anyone’s view other than her own. The cut of the briefs was such that they emphasised the feminine roundness of her hips and the length of her legs in a way which she was suddenly aware was very provocative indeed.
‘Coffee?’
The curt voice from behind her made her swing round, causing Matt to wonder what on earth had put that look of sick misery in her eyes, unable to know that she had been thinking of Gerry, remembering how he had taunted her so cruelly, how he had found her so undesirable.
‘You’d better get in the back,’ Matt announced brusquely. ‘It’s getting dangerously cold in here. The sooner we’re in that sleeping-bag, the happier I’ll be.’
Acknowledging that he was right, Emily started to crawl awkwardly into the back of the Land Rover, totally unaware that, as she did so, the front of her sweatshirt was trapped beneath her body causing the back to ride up, so that Matt, automatically glancing into the driver’s mirror, had a very clear and erotic
