Untamed

‘This time?’ He sat back in his chair, totally relaxed. ‘Just tonight. But I may come back,’ he added throatily, his dark gaze intent on the beauty of her face, forcing her to look at him with the insistence that she should.

He was flirting with her, she knew that, with his words but without actually touching her. He didn’t need to touch her, just the warmth of his gaze was like a caress. But he was only here for the one night, and despite what he said to the contrary she doubted he would ever come back here. With his cool sophistication he was more suited to London than this small northern town, and once he got back there he would forget all about Keilly Grant, the woman who had caused a minor stir because she dared to criticise Rod Bartlett, the darling of the film world.

She waited for their meal to be served before speaking again, her voice waspish as she saw the smile he bestowed on the already besotted Brenda. ‘Which newspaper do you work for?’

‘Which——? Oh I’m freelance,’ he replied easily. ‘I write an article and then try and sell it,’ he added by way of explanation.

‘Whatever takes the public’s interest,’ she derided.

‘Which at the moment is you,’ Rick drawled. ‘You’ve caused quite a sensation, little lady.’

Her mouth twisted. ‘Because I don’t happen to think Rod Bartlett is wonderful!’ her tone showed her contempt for such a thing being important.

Rick shook his head. ‘Because you came out and said it.’

‘Isn’t that allowed?’ she taunted.

‘Apparently not,’ he mused, sipping the wine that had been poured for them, consulting her on his choice, not one of those men who arrogantly assumed they knew the likes and dislikes of the person they were dining with and ordered for them. Keilly couldn’t stand such dominating men, and although Rick appeared to be forceful he certainly wasn’t inconsiderate. ‘Yours was the only letter of dissension they received at the magazine about the article. You should have seen the sacks of mail they received from people who wanted to lynch you from the nearest tree once your letter had been published,’ he derided.

‘All of them women,’ Keilly dismissed scornfully.

‘Actually, no,’ he refuted gently. ‘Rod Bartlett has quite a following among both sexes.’

‘Men wishing they were as macho as him,’ her mouth twisted with distaste.

Rick narrowed puzzled blue eyes. ‘He really did do something to upset you, didn’t he.’

She flushed. ‘Don’t tell me you think he’s wonderful too!’

He seemed to hestitate, an emotion that didn’t sit well on such a decisive man. ‘Have you seen “Beginning Again"?’ he named Rod Bartlett’s most recent film.

‘Certainly not,’ she snapped. ‘But you obviously have,’ she looked at him accusingly.

‘It’s a beautiful and sensitive film——’

‘Nothing about Rod Bartlett could possibly be beautiful or sensitive,’ she cut in heatedly, and then wished she hadn’t as he gave her yet another speculative look. She had to remember that no matter how charming and easy to talk to Rick was he was still a reporter, and reporters had been known to forget all ethics if they thought they were on the trail of a story. Rick had only promised not to quote her, not to refrain from writing the story altogether. ‘There’s no room for nakedness in a beautiful and sensitive film,’ she added uncomfortably.

‘How do you know that if you haven’t seen it?’

She flushed at his quiet rebuke, the food on her plate only half eaten as Brenda took them back to the kitchen, although Rick seemed to be experiencing no such loss of appetite, eating all of his food. ‘I thought you said we wouldn’t talk about Rod Bartlett all evening,’ she reminded waspishly.

‘And I don’t intend to,’ there was a dark promise in his steady gaze. ‘Not all evening. But I wondered what your reaction was to him coming back here?’

Keilly raised a stricken gaze to him, sure she couldn’t have heard him correctly. ‘I—Did you say he was coming to Selchurch?’ she swallowed hard.

‘It’s been rumoured that he is,’ Rick nodded. ‘I have a friend on the magazine you wrote to—Jeanie. I think you met her?’

She nodded, remembering the tall blonde woman who had arrived from the magazine to interview her. She wondered how much of a ‘friend’ the beautiful woman was to Rick, and then chastised herself for these ridiculous feelings of jealousy. After tonight she would never seen him again, and one casual dinner together certainly didn’t give her the right to be jealous of the other women in his life.

‘She’s the one who interviewed Bartlett for the article,’ Rick continued softly. ‘Apparently he mentioned that he’s taking a break soon. He hasn’t stopped working for the last five years, you know.’

‘I’m sure he hasn’t,’ Keilly derided. ‘But that hasn’t prevented him playing either.’

Rick shrugged. ‘A man needs relaxation of some kind——’

‘So does a woman,’ she bit out.

‘Then no one gets hurt, do they,’ he shrugged.

Keilly gave him a disbelieving look. ‘Is that what you really believe?’ she asked slowly.

‘Keilly——’

‘Do you?’ she insisted he answer, impatient with his reasoning tone.

He sighed, the blue eyes hard now. ‘If a man and woman want to sleep together, for whatever reason, mutual gratification, love, then surely that is their business and no one else’s?’

‘And if only one of them loves?’ Her eyes flashed deeply grey, neither of them making any effort to eat the dessert that had been placed in front of them minutes earlier.

His mouth firmed impatiently. ‘Keilly——’

She moved her hand from the table down on to her knee as he would have grasped it. ‘You were telling me about Rod Bartlett coming back here,’ she prompted stiffly.

Rick shrugged dismissal of the subject, looking at her exasperatedly. ‘He mentioned to Jeanie that he was thinking about it.’ ‘When?’

‘He was only thinking about it, Keilly,’ he sighed.

‘He’ll probably decide to go to the Bahamas instead,’ she scorned.

Rick shook his head. ‘He isn’t that keen on hot weather,’ his mouth twisted at the wind that could now be heard blowing in strongly from the sea. ‘This would suit him a lot better.’

‘He won’t find any bikini-clad beauties down here!’

He smiled. ‘He’ll find one,’ he teased. ‘And very beautiful she is too.’

Keilly blushed at this blatant flirtation, although her thoughts were far from the man seated opposite her. It would be disastrous for the actor to come to Selchurch! Perhaps it had just been a whim, one he had instantly dismissed? After all, he hadn’t been back for twelve years, so why should he decide to come back now? It had probably just been talk, people like him were always trying to convince the public that they hadn’t forgotten their ‘roots’. Nevertheless, her unease about the idea persisted. If he should come back—-

‘Why do I get the feeling I’m rather superfluous?’ Rick drawled self-derisively.

He looked quite put out by the fact that she kept fading off into her thoughts and ignoring him. And she could understand why. He was too attractive, too attentive a companion himself to usually be treated in this off-hand manner.

She gave a light laugh, forgetting the actor for the moment, forgetting the chaos he could cause if he did decide to come back here even if only for a visit, concentrating on the man she was with, intent on enjoying what little time she had left with him. He would be gone in the morning and she would never see him again. ‘You aren’t superfluous at all,’ she told him throatily, looking at him beneath lowered lashes. ‘Not as far as I’m concerned anyway.’ She sat back as the waitress removed their used dishes. ‘Or Brenda either,’ she added as the other girl gave him yet another yearning look. ‘We don’t get many attractive men staying here and——’ she broke off as she realised what she had said, then cursed herself for blushing like a schoolgirl.

Rick’s eyes brimmed with laughter. ‘Please go on,’ he drawled softly. ‘You had got as far as “attractive man”…’

‘Men,’ she corrected, sighing as she couldn’t contain her own humour any longer, meeting the smile in his eyes. ‘You haven’t reached thirty, thirty-two——’

‘Thirty-one,’ he supplied.

‘Well you haven’t reached that age without being aware of your own attraction,’ she dismissed. ‘Or how women react to it.’ She was amazed at herself; she didn’t usually indulge in such openly flirtatious conversations with virtual strangers, in fact she didn’t have conversations like this at all normally. Rick seemed to dispense with all inhibitions, demanding and receiving honesty.

He leant forward now, taking one of her hands as she plucked nervously at the tablecloth, his thumb moving erotically against her palm. ‘How do you react to it?’

She felt uncomfortable under his probing gaze, her hand tingling where he touched her, sending messages of pleasure up through her body. ‘The same way Brenda does,’ she admitted huskily. ‘I just hide it better,’ she added dryly.

Rick continued to look at her for long timeless minutes. ‘Come for a walk with me,’ he requested suddenly.

She gave him a startled glance. ‘It sounds as if its blowing a gale out there.’ The wind could clearly be heard howling around the building, seeming to grow stronger by the minute.

‘It’s untamed, like you,’ he told her intently, standing up, her hand still held firmly in his as he pulled her towards him. ‘When I saw you on the beach tonight I could see you belonged here——’

‘I was born here——’

‘I didn’t mean that,’ Rick dismissed shortly. ‘You belong here, in this environment, with the sea and the wind as your friends.’ His hand came up to frame her face as he held her gaze up to his. ‘Your eyes remind me of the sea on a day like this,’ he murmured softly, seeming to devour her as he sought to commit the mental image of her to memory. ‘They’re deep and dark, deep enough for a man to lose his soul in.’

‘Rick——’ She broke apart from him as the kitchen door swung open behind them, Brenda coming to a self-conscious halt as she saw them standing so closely together. Keilly blushed a dark red, knowing it would be all over the town tomorrow that she had been seen kissing one of the guests in the dining room. The fact that she and Rick hadn’t actually been kissing each other was irrelevent, all three of them knew that if Brenda had come in a few seconds later they would have been. ‘We’ve finished now, thank you, Brenda,’ her voice was sharp before she turned to leave the room knowing, but not seeing, that Rick was at her side as she did so.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said softly after several silent seconds.

She came to a halt in the reception area, turning to look at him. ‘For what?’

He shrugged. ‘The dining room of your aunt and uncle’s hotel isn’t the place for me to attempt to seduce you,’ he derided. ‘I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.’

‘You didn’t,’ she returned abruptly. ‘Thank you for dinner, Mr Richards,’ she held out her hand politely. ‘I hope you’ve enjoyed your stay here with us.’

He looked down at the hand she held out to him, ignoring the fact that she expected him to shake it, taking it firmly in his left hand to pull her against his side. ‘I believe I suggested we go for a walk,’ he reminded throatily.

‘It’s cold and windy——’

‘You love it like this,’ he dismissed. ‘In fact, I bet you revel in it. I can just picture you now, walking along the beach on starlit nights, defying the elements, the sea.’

Keilly stared up at him in surprised wonder. No one else had ever realised the challenge she found in a night like this, the battle she had with the sea each time she swam in the winter evenings. The rest of the family and her friends just thought she was a ‘health nut’, none of them had ever realised how she really felt about it. Rick had only known her a couple of hours, and yet he had guessed, he knew.

‘I’ll go and get my coat,’ she told him quietly.

He nodded, pleasure flaring in his eyes to make them appear sapphire blue. ‘And I’ll get mine.’

He was waiting outside for her when she came through from collecting her thick woollen coat, pulling the tie-belt tightly about her waist as she looked up and met his gaze. During their few minutes apart she hadn’t liked to allow herself the time to think, hadn’t wanted to, for once just wanted to enjoy the moment, of being with someone who knew her so totally. He held out his arms to her now and she didn’t hesitate about moving into them, her head bent back as she raised her mouth for his kiss, receiving no gentle exploration to her trusting gesture, swept away on a tide of passion so strong it equalled the force of the wind that whipped her hair about their faces, touching the hardness of Rick’s cheeks as if in a caress.

They didn’t speak as they drew apart, turning as if by tacit agreement to walk towards the cove, Keilly snuggled against the warmth of his coat as his arm remained possessively about her shoulders.

She felt warmed, protected, braving a glance at the enigmatic man who made her feel that way. He walked strong and proud, his head into the wind, as if he too enjoyed challenging the elements—although unlike her, he seemed confident he could win!

‘You’re right,’ she broke the silence between them as they stood at the top of the cliff looking down, the white surf of the wind-tossed sea crashing against the sand. ‘It doesn’t tickle,’ she added almost shyly, his facial hair feeling softer than she had imagined, not rough at all.

Rick smiled at her with complete accord, moving off again, taking her down the moonlit pathway to the beach below. It wasn’t windy against the cliffs in the shelter of the cove, a strange stillness all around them.

Once again Keilly felt compelled to raise her face to him, her lips parted to the sensual assault of his, her arms clasped about his neck as she stood on tiptoe, held fast against him by the strong arms he wrapped so possessively about her slender body.

She felt herself lowered lightly to stand on the ground as his mouth travelled across her cheek to her throat, her arms against his shirt beneath his jacket, her head thrown back as he released the top two buttons to her dress, exposing the curve of her breasts beneath the black lacy bra, his lips moving across their exposed fullness before capturing hers once again.

This time he kissed her deeply, intimately, the smoothness of his tongue entering her mouth to run lightly along the edge of her inner lips, plunging deeper as she groaned her surrender, the tautness of his thighs so hard against hers heady to her already aroused senses.

‘We can’t make love here!’ he groaned as he bit into her earlobe, tracing the gentle curve with his tongue.

‘No,’ she agreed, his chest bared to her questing hands and lips.

‘The sand is probably as damp as hell,’ he muttered between fevered kisses on her bared shoulders.

‘Yes,’ she said again, gasping slightly as he bit into her tender flesh, hearing his groan of satisfaction seconds later as her tongue sought and found the male nipple, feeling it harden beneath her caresses.

With the minimum of movement he had thrown off his sheepskin jacket and was lowering her down on to it, smoothing aside the unbuttoned front of her dress, releasing the fastening of her bra to bare her breasts to his avid gaze.

The sky could have fallen in on them at that moment and neither of them would have cared, Keilly arching up as his mouth claimed moist possession of one rosy-tipped breast, teeth closing about the nipple to bite down gently as ecstasy flooded her lower limbs, a slow warmth invading her thighs, the pleasure ten-fold as his hand claimed the other breast, his thumb moving roughly across the tip.

Both were oblivious to the storm rolling in off the sea, lost in a tempest of their own making, moist lips claiming other welcoming lips, hands avidly searching the pleasure spots of their bodies.

Rick’s hand was on her knee now, travelling slowly up her thigh, closing possessively over the delicious mound that lay beneath black lacy panties, the warmth increasing in Keilly as he slowly caressed her there, his hand moving surely beneath the lace to the waiting flesh below.

The storm of their making may have been strong, but the storm above them wasn’t to be denied any longer, huge drops of rain falling coldly on their heated flesh, Rick’s shirt soaked and clinging to his back within seconds as he lay across her. Even so he was loath to relinquish her mouth, leaving her with a frustrated groan, quickly buttoning her dress for her before pulling her coat warmly about her.

‘Your coat——’

‘I’ll see to that in a minute,’ he dismissed, his hair looking as black as her own now that it was wet. ‘Keilly,’ his hands framed her face, seemingly oblivious to the rain that was fast drenching them both. ‘No matter how much I wanted you just now I wouldn’t have taken you here,’ his gaze held hers steadily. ‘Making love on a beach, fumbling about in the dark as if we’re guilty of something, it isn’t how I want our first time together to be.’ His head bent and he kissed her slowly, lingeringly. ‘I’m going to give you champagne and roses when I make love to you. And a bed,’ he added meaningly.

She was warmed by the sincerity of his words, knew that the rain, the frantic haste to straighten their clothes, had dampened things in more ways than one. Rick taking the time—and getting waterlogged into the bargain!—to reassure her of his feelings made everything seem good again.

‘A bed can be made of many things, Rick,’ she sat up to assist him with his coat, although it was much too late to prevent him being soaked to the skin. ‘Down or sand, the important thing is who you share it with.’

He smiled, his eyes a deep warm blue. ‘My untamed witch!’ He bent to kiss her with lingering tenderness, his gaze intent for long breathless seconds before he quickly stood up, pulling her lightly to her feet. ‘Are there any caves along here where we can wait until the rain stops?’ He narrowed his eyes along the cliff face.

‘No caves,’ she took his hand and began to run. ‘But there’s an overhanging rock where we can take shelter.’

They reached the rock within minutes, huddling close together to avoid the worst of the rain.

As they stood there waiting for the onslaught to ease, reaction began to set in for Keilly. It was inevitable that it should, in all of her twenty-two years she could never remember behaving this wantonly before, and with a virtual stranger. She had been out with quite a few men, and several of them would have liked the relationship to progress further than the goodnight kisses she allowed them, but always in the past she had held out, knowing that most of them were just out for another conquest, someone they could tell their friends about afterwards.

But Rick was much older than any of the other men she had dated, was surely past the stage in his life where he needed to boast about physical conquests in order to feel good. And she believed him when he said he hadn’t intended making love to her on the beach, knew that no matter how aroused he had been he had also been completely in control, that he had had no intention of making their lovemaking into something childish and illicit.

‘I won’t come to your room tonight,’ she murmured against the dampness of his coat. ‘I know that.’

‘And you aren’t coming to mine either!’

‘No. Keilly,’ he raised her face gently with his hand. ‘I told you, I’m coming back, And I meant it.’

Happiness glowed in the darkness of her eyes. ‘When?’

‘I’m not sure yet—I will be back, Keilly,’ he insisted as disappointment clouded her face. ‘Now that I’ve found you I’ll let no other man tame you but me!’ His arms tightened painfully. ‘All that wildness and fire is going to be for me,’ he ground out fiercely.

She didn’t know if she were relieved or disappointed when it at last stopped raining ten minutes later, relieved because they could at last go and get out of these wet clothes, disappointed because she didn’t want this time with Rick to end.

He seemed to share her reluctance, for all that they were both wet and cold their walk back to the hotel was slow, their arms wrapped about each other hindering their speed even more. And neither of them minded in the least, stopping outside the hotel to kiss once more.

‘I was going to organise a search-party,’ her uncle Bill sighed his relief as they entered the hotel, a small wiry man with sandy-grey hair and twinkling blue eyes. ‘You had better go upstairs and shower, Keilly, before you catch pneumonia.’

‘She doesn’t even catch cold,’ Rick murmured, his gaze still locked on her flushed cheeks.

‘That’s true,’ her uncle nodded. ‘By the way, there was a telephone call for you while you were out, Mr Richards.’

Keilly felt the way Rick suddenly stiffened with tension, looking up at him enquiringly.

‘For me?’ he frowned. ‘Are you sure?’

Her uncle smiled. ‘Well you are our only guest, and the lady was quite clear about the name. She left a message for you here somewhere,’ he looked through the papers on the desk. ‘"Call Barbie”,’ he read. ‘Urgent, she said it was,’ he frowned.

‘Thanks,’ Rick nodded abstractedly. ‘I’ll call her as soon as I’ve changed.’

Keily could still sense his tension as he held on tightly to her hand. ‘Anything wrong, Rick?’ she prompted softly.

‘No,’ he shook his head. ‘Barbie—sometimes finds work for me,’ he explained abruptly. ‘We had both better do as your uncle suggested and take a shower.’

‘Separately, I hope,’ her Uncle Bill put in dryly.

Keilly’s indignant gasp was drowned out by the men’s shared laughter, and with a fierce glare at both of them she walked off to take her shower—alone! Really, she couldn’t imagine what had come over her uncle for him to make such a personal remark.

One look in the mirror once she reached her bedroom on the top floor showed her exactly why he had done it. Despite the wet slickness of her hair, slightly smudged make-up, and limp clothing, it was possible to see she had been thoroughly kissed, and by an expert too if the glow in her eyes was anything to go by.

‘Keilly?’ A knock sounded on the door to accompany the soft calling of her name. ‘Keilly, I have to talk to you.’

Rick! ‘I meant what I said earlier,’ she spoke to him through the thickness of the door.

‘I know, darling,’ he sounded amused. ‘But I have to return to London tonight, and I——’

‘Tonight?’ she had the door open before he could even finish what he was saying. ‘Tonight, Rick?’ she groaned her, disappointment, uncaring that she was revealing too much of her feelings; she had thought they had until tomorrow morning at least.

He was still as wet as she was, although his shorter hair was drying quicker than hers. ‘I decided to call Barbie right away, and—I have a job to do back in London,’ he shrugged. ‘I’ll be leaving as soon as I’ve changed and packed.’

She couldn’t even manage a smile. ‘Barbie is—just a friend?’

He smiled gently, pulling her into his arms. ‘Just a friend—my little witch.’ He sobered suddenly. ‘I don’t want to go now, but I have to. You do believe I’ll come back?’

At the moment she wanted to believe anything he told her, nodding before she found her mouth claimed by his, kissing him back as if she never wanted him to stop.

They were both breathing hard by the time they pulled apart, Rick resting his forehead momentarily on hers before moving away from her completely. ‘I’d better go—or I won’t want to,’ he added ruefully. ‘I’ll call you, okay?’ He touched her cheek with gentle fingertips.

She swallowed hard. ‘Okay.’

With one last rakish grin he was gone, leaving Keilly wondering if she had imagined it all, if Rick Richards had just been a wonderful dream. But the tingle all over her body told her he couldn’t have been, and when she undressed the slight redness to her breasts where his beard had scraped her more tender skin more than convinced her that he had been real.

But would he really come back or had she just been an interlude to him? Worse still, would she find a story about herself emblazoned across some newspaper in the next few days, Rick Richards’ personal—very personal, interview with the woman who had scorned at Rod Bartlett?