“You're a fool if you get involved with her,” said Foley's
friend Mark. “Look at the damage she's caused already.”
Foley knew this was true. Indiana Sedon was a total
liability and he had done the one thing he had always previously avoided –
fallen in love with an all-time loser, someone surrounded by tragedy and
misfortune.
What had happened to him? What did he think he was doing
putting his career and even his life on the line for someone who could make him
feel lower than a garden gnome and, at the same time, fill him with such
tenderness and desire he kept on forgetting how maddening she could be?
But then Indiana wasn't any too pleased by her own passion
for Foley. He was a neanderthal, ill educated, limited, and haunted by a past
he would never speak about to anyone, not even her. How could such a thing have happened and what
was she going to do when every day she felt herself needing him more
desperately than she had ever needed anyone before?
The sooner she put a stop to Foley the better, especially when he found out what she really
wanted from him and how she intended to go about getting it. Why was it so
difficult to tell him goodbye? And all of this meant nothing beside the danger
she was in, the trap she had walked into and the fact that only Foley could
protect her.
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Disobeying her own rules, she remained
in his arms, lost and bewildered, barely understanding what she was doing and
why his orgasm had affected her in a way quite differently from her own. His
climax made her tender, made her want to become part of him and get him to love
her.
Unlikely, she told herself. Lose
that schoolgirl’s dream.
He fell deeply asleep, his face pale,
and she watched him. From now on she wanted to invigilate every passing moment
of his life so that he could never leave her. But that was impossible. This was
the wrong man, and she must put an end to the affair. Otherwise, the hurt would
become more acute and she would be unable to play her music, mourn for poor
Jack or even survive. This was a wrong choice and she should not have made it.
All that rubbish about only enjoying
sex and not falling in love. That was nonsense. Who could live and love in such
a way? Nobody could, the rules were flawed and stupid and she blushed as she
remembered what she had said to Foley in her pompous little voice, in this same
bedroom an hour earlier.
Very gently she disengaged herself from
his arms and crept away like a thief. In the spare room she lay down, every
nerve tingling from the emotions she had just experienced and, to her dismay,
every part of her yearning to return to his embrace.
This wouldn’t do at all. She had only
got to know him the day before yesterday and she tried to order her thoughts as
she lay there under the cold sheets of the spare bed, shivering from the chill
and desire. On the shelf stood a row of Britton’s antique lead soldiers—
personal possessions, she supposed. Had they come from Foley’s childhood or did
he collect them?
Her chances of winning this man were
hopeless and she had decided in advance she must be cool and controlling if she
were to achieve any mastery over her own feelings and his. But the greater her
need for him became, the less she would be able to control herself in his
presence and she would be bound to flare out or become awkward or worse, let
him see how much she was beginning to love him.
With Jack it had been different. She
had been secure in his response to her extravagance of feeling, her passionate
love for him and her rages at his occasional infidelities. But this man was
guarded, wary. He had suffered, had been hurt. Those scars on his body meant
there would be inner scars as well which he was too proud to show anyone.
Whatever horror lurked in his past life to make him hide so deeply within
himself put him beyond her reach and she would have to win him without
appearing even to want him.
He was considerate, passionate and
loving but he would never love her or any woman, unless that woman was clever.
She would have to be cunning and deceitful, make him imagine she didn’t care,
run the risk of hurting him, simply in order to stay with him. And did she want
that? Was he worth the effort?
All her previous plans for dealing with
Foley stood in disarray. What had happened tonight robbed her of her plan never
to fall in love with him.
I should be with him now,
she thought, trying to control the tears. I should nurse him, cherish him,
smile when he smiles, get what I want from him. But he can’t love me like that,
and after tonight maybe I shall never lie in his arms again.
About the author
J S Goubert lives in East Anglia and has published several
previous books under different pseudonyms and a number of short stories. Indigo
Eyes is her first romantic novel.
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