East End boys’ club. Very laudable—and she believed him even as she missed him. But her inability to dismiss completely the conversation she had overheard on the day of her uncle’s funeral was a constant source of unease.
She was a practical girl—with egotistical film-star parents she had had to be from a very young age. She knew she was being silly, letting Sara Blacket’s catty remarks get to her. Justin loved her. They were married for heaven’s sake!
But, however much she tried to convince herself, the doubt lingered. It didn’t help that Justin seemed to spend longer and longer in London. He was working far too hard, but nothing she said could make him change.
She was smiling as ‘she spun the wheel of her Mini Metro and headed up the drive to come to a halt, with a screech of brakes, outside the front door of the house. She had spent the day in London, and had had the rare pleasure of lunching with her husband at an exclusive restaurant before raiding Harvey Nichols. The baglying on the passenger seat contained the most exotic gown she had ever owned.
She picked up the carrier-bag and chuckled as she dashed out of the car and into the house. She could not wait to see Justin’s face when he saw her new dress. She wouldn’t give a cent for his iron control tomorrow night—her birthday party. The gown was guaranteed to knock him dead. But why did she need to? The question hovered on the fringes of her mind, undermining her confidence.
Not bad—not bad at all, she thought, posing naked in front of the mirrored wall of the bathroom, sucking in her stomach, her small breasts rising enticingly. Were they bigger than usual? she wondered idly. Probably Justin’s expert massage was to blame. She giggled and, with a happy smile illuminating her small face, spun round as the object of her thoughts strolled in.
‘I didn’t hear you,’ she said delightedly. She had not seen him since last night and her eyes drank in the sight of the large, splendid bulk of him, clad in a plain black towelling robe that stopped mid-thigh, the deep V of the front exposing his broad, hairy chest. Her heart jumped in her breast as, eyes shining, she walked towards him, ‘You must have got back when I was in the shower.’
‘Mmm,’ Justin grunted, his gaze sweeping slowly over her silver-blonde hair, the perfect oval face, the finely arched brows, the huge, thick-lashed eyes, the small, straight nose and the wide full-lipped, rosy mouth, curved in a warm smile of welcome. His gaze lingered on the lips, then moved almost as if against his will down to the high, full breasts, the tiny waist and flat stomach, the softly flaring hips, his eyes darkening to black in the process.
Zoë, seeing his reaction and thrilled by it, moved closer and slipped a hand under the lapel of his robe. ‘Thank you for the card and the roses. I love them,’ she husked, thinking of the magnificent bouquet of red roses that had been delivered to the house earlier.
‘My pleasure, birthday girl’ he drawled none too steadily.
She felt him tense as her fingernail scraped supposedly accidentally over a small, pebble-like male nipple. Perhaps she had been wrong about Justin; perhaps her fantasy of them in the shower was not so unlikely, she thought, excitement sizzling in her veins.
‘Shall I help you to shower?’ she asked throatily, glancing up at his tough face through the thick veil of her lashes in what she hoped was a seductive fashion.
His eyes flashed gold lightning as his arm swept around her waist and hauled her into his hard body, while his other hand caught her wandering one beneath his robe. ‘You little devil,’ he rasped, before covering her mouth with his own in a long, hard kiss.
When he finally released her she was dazed and breathless and aching. ‘Justin…’ She sighed his name. But, to her chagrin, he spun her round, patted her naked bottom, and almost pushed her out of the door.
‘Tempting though the offer is, it’s late. The guests will be arriving any minute. Get dressed and allow me to do the same.’
‘Spoilsport,’ she shouted back cheekily, regaining her equilibrium and shooting him a flirtatious glance over her shoulder.
Justin tossed back his black head and laughed out loud. ‘Hold the thought till later, darling, when I have time to do it justice, hmm?’
His parting words filled her with confidence as she stood in front of the cheval-glass, turning this way and that, a complacent grin lighting her face. So much for a Dresden doll, she thought triumphantly. Tonight no one would be in any doubt she was all woman.
The black dress was like nothing she had ever owned before—a sophisticated designer original with tiny, narrow straps supporting the pure silk bodice. She wore no bra because the back was non-existent except for a very broad, sequin-encrusted belt in gold, which nipped her tiny waist and pushed her firm breasts higher— almost empire-style—revealing the curve of the milky white orbs and a tantalising shadowy cleavage.
The skirt was straight to her ankles and figure-hugging, with a teasing fish tail at the back. Matching four-inchheel satin sandals on her feet gave her an illusion of height, as did the heavy sweep of her blonde hair piled up on the top of her head in a chignon, a few strands of hair pulled free to curl enticingly around her face and the back of her neck.
She did not need foundation, simply a good moisturiser and the lightest trace of blusher to add colour to her fine pale skin. She had paid more attention to her eyes, and, with the careful use of a coloured eyeshadow and the addition of a brownish-black mascara to her long lashes, she knew she had never looked better.
‘My God! What on earth are you wearing?’
Justin’s horrified cry broke into her reverie. She turned slowly around and spread her arms wide. ‘Don’t you like it?’ she asked as she pirouetted again, then stopped in front of him, grinning wickedly up into his stunned face.
He looked magnificent in a black dinner-suit, white silk shirt and black bow-tie—all elegant, sophisticated male—and for once Zoë thought she matched him. But, if the look in his dark eyes was anything to go by, maybe she was wrong. She saw the muscle in his strong throat move as he swallowed hard. ‘Justin?’ she queried.
‘Like it…? It’s indecent. You will give every man in the place a heart attack—me included.’ His dark gaze lingered on her shadowy cleavage. ‘Why not wear the romantic thing you wore on Valentine night?’ he suggested hoarsely.
‘Don’t be so staid,’ she teased, adding, ‘In any case, it’s too late to change now.’ She slipped her arm through his. ‘Let’s go down; we can’t keep our guests waiting.’
‘Wait.’ He closed his large hand over hers and turned her towards him. ‘I have something for you.’ His eyes dipped to her breast and then returned to her face. One dark brow arched sardonically. ‘Though I didn’t have a neckline like that in mind when I bought it,’ he said drily, slipping his free hand into his jacket pocket and withdrawing a long jewel case. He held it out to her.
She opened the box and gasped. ‘It’s unbelievable,’ she cried, her eyes dazzled by the blaze from a magnificent diamond choker set with sapphires falling like tear-drops all around—a perfect match for her engagement ring.
‘Happy birthday, Zoë.’
She looked up into her husband’s dark, serious eyes, her own filling with moisture. How could she have ever doubted that he loved her? she thought wryly.
‘I love it, Justin, as I love you. You darling man.’ And, reaching up, she kissed the highest point she could reach—his chin.
