FORGOTTEN LOVER, Carole Mortimer [chrysanthemum read aloud TXT] 📗

he probably had to shave twice a day. Above that strong jawline his top lip jutted out determinedly, the lower lip fuller, hinting at a deep sensuality. He had wide powerful shoulders, tapering to a narrow waist and lean hips, and he was probably the most handsome man Velvet had ever seen. The white trousers fitted to his muscular thighs, the dark blue shirt was partly unbuttoned down his chest, his skin was deeply tanned, as if he lived a lot of his life out in the sun.

Yes, he was very handsome, excitingly so, being in his late thirties or early forties, she would say, having an assurance and confidence about him that pointed to him being unnerved by little. He was also acting as if he knew her, and much as she would like it to be true, she knew she had never seen him in her life before. He just wasn’t the sort of man you forgot once you had met him.

‘Velvet!’ He grasped both her hands in his, searching her face with those deep blue eyes as if he intended memorising every feature. ‘My God,’ he choked, very pale beneath his tan, a haggard look to his face. ‘It really is you!’ His hands tightened on hers.

She gave a polite meaningless smile, trying to extricate her hands without causing a scene. Men had tried to pick her up in this way in the past, but never anyone like this man. ‘It really is me,’ she agreed lightly. ‘Now would you mind …?’ she looked pointedly at their joined hands.

‘God, Velvet,’ he groaned, making no effort to release her, ‘you don’t know what it does to me to see you here!’

She was beginning to, his hold on her hands was painful now. ‘Could you please let me go?’ she winced.

His hold relaxed a little, but he didn’t release her. ‘Velvet …’

She was becoming angry now, aware that they were attracting more than their fair share of attention. ‘I think we’ve established that that is my name,’ she said in her coldest voice, realising this man was going to be a difficult one to shake off.

‘It happened, of course, men claiming they knew her. In her profession it was bound to; men saw her photograph in a magazine and thought it entitled them to claim an acquaintance with her.

Not that this man didn’t look as if he would be interesting to know, he did. But she was here to work, and the sooner the work was finished the sooner she would be able to get back to Tony. Tony! Goodness, if she didn’t soon make that call Simon and Janice would have gone to bed too!

‘It’s been pleasant meeting you, Mr—er—But I have to go now,’ she finally managed to release her hand. ‘If you’ll excuse me …’ and she turned to leave, already dismissing him from her mind.

A strong hand came out to stop her, blue eyes narrowing as the man moved to stand in front of her. ‘Velvet, I know things ended abruptly between us, but I thought you understood—’

‘Now look, Mr—’

‘Jerard,’ he put in tersely.

‘Mr Jerard,’ she said impatiently. ‘You—’

‘Just Jerard,’ he snapped. ‘Don’t play games, Velvet, not now, and not with me.’

She pulled out of his grasp, knowing there would be bruises on her wrist tomorrow. Paul would love that! ‘I don’t play games, Mr—Jerard,’ she snapped. ‘And I don’t particularly like the people who do.’

‘I don’t play games either,’ he rasped. ‘I never have.’

‘Then I wish you wouldn’t now,’ she rubbed her tender skin. ‘I’m in a hurry, and I really don’t have the time to talk to you right now.’

‘Velvet!’

She glared up at him. ‘Will you please leave me alone!’

He frowned. ‘Why are you pretending you don’t know me?’

‘Because I don’t!’ she cried her exasperation. ‘And if this is a pick-up it really isn’t a very original one,’ she dismissed scathingly.

‘Pick-up!’ he exploded, his eyes blazing, a pulse beating irratically at his jaw. ‘Don’t do this to me, Velvet. I may deserve it, but don’t do it.’ His expression was haunted.

She shook her head. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

‘I’m talking about us,’ he sighed. ‘You and me.’

‘There is no you and me. Now if we’re supposed to have met in the past, then I’m sorry, but I don’t remember the meeting.’

‘You do remember,’ he snarled, very tense. ‘You’re just trying to punish me.’

She bit her lip at the savagery of his expression. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about. But you and I have never met before. Now I really do have to go.’ She brushed past him, and this time he made no effort to stop her.

She was shaking as she stepped into the lift, turning to press the button for her floor, seeing the man called Jerard still standing where she had left him, looking as if she had struck him a physical blow.

What had seemed to be a conventional pick-up, a ‘haven’t we met before’ approach, had turned out to be something else entirely. The man had to be insane, or else genuinely suffering from mistaken identity. And yet he hadn’t seemed mistaken, he had even called her by her name. But she didn’t know him, would never forget such an intense personality. Unless …? No, no, it wasn’t possible she had ever met him before.

She put the call through to Simon once she reached her room, just managing to talk to Tony before Janice put him to bed. His lisped question of when she was coming home brought a lump to her throat, and she quickly reassured him that it would be soon. She had only left him twice before, and each time it had only been for two days. Talking to her son like this, made conscious of the miles separating them, made her wish that she had never come to Fort Lauderdale.

‘How are you, love?’ her brother asked once Tony had gone off quite happily with his aunt.

‘I’m fine,’ she told him huskily.