Malibu Music Page 10

  'Are you going out with him?' He was looking down at her now, standing quite close.

  'No. Of course not.'

  'Why, of course not?'

  'Well, for one thing, I'm going to fix you a pizza tonight.' She smiled at him. 'For another, I'm not interested in seductive movie stars.'

  He cocked an eyebrow at that. 'Ah, he was seductive, was he?' His tone was light, but there was a serious note behind it.

  She laughed. 'He certainly thought so.' Then she sobered. 'I'm not his type anyway. If anything, he was intrigued by a mysterious gypsy who didn't recognise him. He wouldn't give me—the real Bianca Jameson—a second glance.'

  'That must be some costume,' he remarked dryly. 'Well I, for one, prefer this Bianca Jameson.' He gave her a critical look. 'Messy mop of hair, no make-up, baggy clothes and all.'

  She glanced down at her loose cotton shirt hanging over an old pair of shorts. 'Why you…' she cried, reaching out to give him a shove.

  When her hands made contact with the bare flesh of his muscled chest, she drew in her breath sharply as the nerves of her fingers recorded the message of his soft warm skin in her brain. Before she had a chance to put any real muscle into the push, his hands settled on top of hers, holding them and pressing them closely, her palms flat against his chest.

  She could feel the quickening beat of his heart under her fingers. His skin was still warm from the sun and slightly damp with perspiration. Slowly, she raised her eyes to his, and her own pulse began to thud erratically. A slow warmth began to steal through her. She swayed slightly. Her mouth felt suddenly dry, and she swallowed convulsively under his dark gaze.

  'Bianca,' he said softly, and his head slowly came down towards her.

  She closed her eyes, paralysed, unable to move, hardly daring to breathe. When his mouth finally met hers, she couldn't suppress a small, almost inaudible murmur of pleasure. It was nothing like the kisses he had pressed on her before. There was no blatant seductive assault, no thrusting demand, only the delicious taste of his soft sensuous lips moving gently, coaxingly on hers.

  But neither was it merely a friendly kiss. The waves of heated response flowing through her told her that, and when one large hand slipped behind her waist and pulled her to him so that they were joined more firmly together, she could feel the hard, unmistakable evidence of his own arousal, against her bare thigh.

  His mouth was at her ear now, murmuring her name. 'Ah, Bianca, Bianca,' he breathed softly. 'You feel so good. I've wanted to hold you like this for so long. Put your arms around me, darling. Hold me. Love me.'

  Her breath was coming in quick gasps now. The clean smell of his skin, the roughness of the short bristles on his chin, his strong arms holding her, were irresistible. And why should she resist? she asked herself dimly as she raised her arms and slid them up around his neck. It was what she wanted, what she realised now she had wanted from the day she first saw him standing so straight and tall and arrogant in the window of the house next door.

  'Ah, that's the way,' he said when her hands began to move on the back of his neck, then under the loose collar of the shirt to his hard muscular back.

  With both arms enfolding her, he kissed her again. Her fingers raked through the dark hair at the back of his head, thick, silky and vibrant. He opened his mouth slightly, and she felt the tip of his tongue run tentatively over her lips, moist and warm and inviting. When she responded by parting her own lips instead of drawing back in alarm, she heard a low growl deep in his throat and his arms tightened around her, moving his hands over her back from her shoulders to her waist.

  This is Gerry, she thought to herself as she melted against him, and she knew that she, too, had been waiting for this moment as much as he had. The feel of his hard body all along the length of hers, the sweet taste of his mouth, the pungent smell of his skin, were all like coming home, reaching the one place she truly belonged after a long, lonely journey.

  He tore his mouth away from hers and held her chin firmly in one hand, tilting her head back so that she was forced to look up into his eyes, alight with passion.

  'Bianca,' he said hoarsely. 'You know how badly I want you.'

  She nodded and swallowed convulsively. 'Yes,' she murmured.

  The hand on her chin slid down to lightly grasp her around the neck, the long fingers moving in a slow gentle rhythm until they reached the open collar of her cotton shirt. The light in his eyes grew brighter and a muscle along his jaw twitched as the hand then settled over her breast, resting there, the soft fullness fitting perfectly into the curved palm.

  She couldn't move, could hardly breathe. She wanted to die right there. She hadn't known, hadn't dreamed she could feel like this, like a mindless vessel waiting to be filled. The only reality in the universe was the man holding her.

  He dropped his glance lower, and she closed her eyes, sighing, as she felt his hand move across to her other breast, then slowly begin to unbutton her blouse.

  'I want to look at you,' he muttered as his fingers worked deftly. When he reached the last button, he pushed aside the material and settled both his hands on her bare midriff, just below the filmy bra. Then they inched up slowly to cover her breasts.

  She gasped when she felt his fingers graze gently over her nipples under the thin gauze, felt them harden and grow taut with burgeoning desire, felt his warm insistent mouth on the soft swell above the scant covering of her bra.

  She began to tremble under the sensuous onslaught. She couldn't handle this. The feelings those clever fingers and mouth were evoking in her threatened to overwhelm her. She had no resistance. She knew with certainty that he could do whatever he wanted with her. She wanted it all, had no power to refuse him anything he asked from her.

  His hands came up now to cup her face. 'What's wrong, darling?' she heard him ask. She opened her eyes. Her forehead was drawn in concern. He traced her trembling lips with one finger.

  'I… I…' She couldn't seem to make her throat function properly. She wanted to tell him how much she loved him, desired him, but the words wouldn't come.

  'God,' he breathed, enfolding her in his arms again. 'I've scared you to death.' His cheek was against hers, and he was murmuring in her ear. 'I'm so sorry, darling. I promise I'll never hurt you. I don't want to rush you into something you're not ready for. Just let me hold you. We've got lots of time.'

  Bianca wanted to cry out to him, to tell him she was ready, she didn't want to wait, she wanted him to possess her now. The feel of his warm hard flesh against her bare stomach and half-uncovered breast was torture to her now, and only made her ache for more. But she knew he was right. It was too soon. She was not emotionally equipped to handle the overwhelming sensations he had aroused in her.

  'Gerry,' she said at last against his rough cheek, 'I didn't realise it would be like this. It's just bowled me over.'

  He put his hands on her shoulders and drew slightly away from her. He smiled, kissed her lightly on the tip of her nose and then reached down and slowly, reluctantly, began to rebutton her blouse.

  'You're a witch, you know that?' he said playfully when he had finished and his hands were back on her shoulders again. 'I think you've become transformed into a real gypsy.' He shook his head slowly from side to side with a rueful air. 'The last thing I ever thought would happen to me was to fall in love.'

  'Oh, Gerry,' she breathed happily.

  With a sigh, he pulled her to him and held her tenderly, his mouth in her hair. She slid her arms around his waist and nestled comfortably against him. She wished she could just stay there forever in his arms, and she moved her hands up under his shirt, aching for the feel of his skin.

  He drew back abruptly, and with his hands firmly clamped on her shoulders, held her a little distance away from him. The heavy-lidded eyes were still smouldering, but the jaw was firm, the set of his sensuous mouth determined. She gazed at him in bewilderment. Didn't he want her? Was she being too easy? She reddened. Her body went rigid and she started to pull fart
her away from him.

  But he held her fast, and the grim expression in his face softened at her obvious distress. 'Did you think I was going to let you seduce me so soon?' he asked playfully.

  She lowered her eyes. 'Gerry,' she began.

  He put one finger under her chin and tilted it up so that she had to face him. 'Listen, you little fruitcake, this is no game I'm playing.' The corners of his mouth quirked up in a wry smile. 'Hell, I'm probably out of my mind not to take you to bed right now, but I want more than a quick roll in the hay with you, Bianca, more than a summer affair. I want a commitment, something beyond fun and games.' He frowned. 'Don't you, Bianca? Maybe I'm taking too much for granted. Maybe a girl like you couldn't possibly take a man like me seriously. You really don't know anything about me.'

  This sudden burst of uncharacteristic humility, this apparent cracking of that arrogant self-assurance, his letting her see the chink in his armour, was all that it took to clear away any lingering doubts she had about his sincerity. A heady sense of her own power over this man came to her, and she reached out a hand and gently traced it along his finely chiselled mouth.

  'I know all I need to know,' she said in a voice full of love. 'I know you're generous and kind and,' she grinned, 'that you are a very serious person.'

  He grasped her wrist and brought the palm of her hand to his lips. 'You know,' he said evenly, his eyes never leaving hers, 'the time is going to come when I'm not going to want to stop, won't be able to stop. I'm going to have to make love to you properly. Violent, passionate love.'

  'I know,' she said quietly.

  'But not until you're ready.' He inhaled a deep breath. 'When that happens we can decide just what we want to do about it.'

  She nodded her agreement, but in her heart she knew there wasn't the slightest doubt what she wanted to do about it. She wanted to spend the rest of her live with this wonderful man, to make a home for him, have his children. The intense, overpowering love she felt for him was light years beyond mere physical desire, as compelling as that was, even beyond her commitment to music.

  But, she decided, she wouldn't tell him that just yet. She'd do it his way. He was right. She needed time to get her feelings under control. This was her first real experience with passionate love. They had lots of time.

  She fluttered her eyelashes up at him. 'Of course, Gerry,' she said demurely. 'I think you're absolutely right.'

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Bianca floated through the next few weeks in a dream. It was May now. She'd been at the beach for almost four months and had never been happier. The pale depressed girl who had appeared in February had been transformed into a sun-browned, sparkling woman. She enjoyed her playing at Rumania House thoroughly now after those first difficult weeks, and found that it satisfied her artistic drive completely for now.

  She was also falling more deeply in love with Gerry every day. By tacit agreement and sheer power of will, they had managed to keep their desire for each other within bounds. Both were long accustomed to self-discipline, and Bianca guessed that while much of her desire for Gerry was transmuted into the stirring gypsy music she played each evening at the restaurant, he probably put his own frustrated longing into his writing.

  Their daily routine continued to follow the same pattern, but now he was far more open with her than he had been at first. She learned that he came from a small town in northern California, that Flicka was his only sister, that his father was dead, his mother living in Florida, and that he had attended the University of California at Berkeley for two years until his father died and he had to leave to go to work.

  He was full of surprises. It seemed there wasn't anything he hadn't done. One Sunday evening before supper Bianca was sitting at the kitchen table leafing idly through an old vacation travel magazine while Gerry was getting steaks ready to put on the outdoor grill, when she came across some spectacular photographs of Glacier National Park in the Montana Rockies.

  'Oh, look, Gerry,' she cried. 'Isn't this beautiful?' City-bred, she'd never seen such gorgeous scenery. 'Look at that lovely lake and the snow on the mountains.'

  He peered over her shoulder on his way to the refrigerator, one hand resting lightly on the back of her neck as he bent over to look at the coloured photographs. He pointed at the picture of the lake. The snow-capped mountains plunged down steeply to its shores and a chalet-type lodge was at one end of it.

  'That's Many Glacier Hotel,' he said. 'I used to work there in the summertime.' His fingers were working their way up through her short curly hair. 'We'll go there sometime if you like. It's really something. Lots of wildlife. Big-horn sheep, grizzly bears, brown bears, beavers, just about every species of native animal.'

  She twisted around to gaze up at him. 'You worked there?' He nodded, grinning, his hand now gently massaging her back. 'What did you do?'

  'Let's see. One summer I waited on tables in the dining room, another I was a bellhop. It was great. College kids from all over the country worked there. The hotel required some musical talent for employment, and we provided all the entertainment.'

  'And that's where you played piano in the combo you told me about?'

  He nodded again. 'Among other things, other places. I even did a little cooking when I was at Glacier.'

  She stared up at him. 'Is there anything you haven't done?' she asked, almost purring under the sensations the gentle strokes of his fingers were creating in her. The hand had come around now to the front of her neck, the slow motion almost hypnotising her.

  He tilted his head and seemed to be giving her question serious consideration. 'Well,' he said at last, 'I've never been a brain surgeon or a bank robber.'

  The hand had slipped down now inside her blouse to cover her breast and began to move lightly from one to the other. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back over the railing of the chair. His mouth came down on hers, then, and the hand on her breast tightened, cupping the fullness.

  'I'd better get these steaks on,' he murmured against her lips. His mouth nipped at hers. He took her lower lip gently between his teeth and she felt his tongue glide back and forth over the sensitive skin. 'There's no telling where this will end if I don't.' Reluctantly, his hand slid back up to her cheek.

  She opened her eyes and stared up at him. 'You look funny upside down,' she said with a nervous giggle.

  'Oh, yeah?' he jeered. 'I'll show you funny!' His hand snaked down to her ribs and started to tickle her unmercifully until finally she had to beg him to stop.

  Later that night, after he had gone back to the house next door and she was getting ready for bed, she found herself wishing so strongly that he had stayed with her, that for a moment she was tempted to call him and tell him to come back, or, better, go next door herself to surprise him. It was getting harder and harder to let him go each night, for him, too, she knew, and she wondered where it was all going to end. She had the feeling he was waiting for something before carrying their relationship on to the next logical step. But what was that step? He didn't want an affair, she was certain of that. Marriage? Was Gerry the kind of man who could settle down to one woman?

  As she sat at the dressing table brushing her hair, she thought about the differences in their backgrounds. He had been on his own from the time he was nineteen and had a wide and varied experience of life. She had the feeling that no matter how forthcoming he was about his past, she still hadn't begun to discover all there was to know about him. There was a strangely elusive quality to Gerry, as though he was doling out information piecemeal, never revealing everything.

  Well, she thought dreamily, as she settled into bed and turned out the light, I'll just have to trust him. Isn't that what love means? And she did love him. Of that she was certain. With her whole heart and soul she felt committed to him, and she had no doubt that he loved her. With that to bind them together, what could possibly go wrong?

  The next night was a work night. Bianca had arrived at the restaurant and was sitting at the cluttered dress
ing table in her costume applying her stage make-up when Madame Tedescu burst into the tiny room calling her name in an agonised voice.

  'Bianca, a disaster. A terrible thing.'

  Bianca glanced up in alarm at their reflections in the mirror. The little woman was wringing her hands, her wrinkled face contorted. Bianca whirled around on the narrow bench. 'What is it? What's happened?' She had visions of a serious accident, a death in the family, an invasion from Mars.

  Madame Tedescu groaned and flung her head back dramatically, one ring-encrusted hand pressed to her forehead. 'What has not happened?' she cried. 'The chef has cut himself boning chicken for the paprikash. Diane has sprained her ankle jogging.' The bright black eyes widened in horror. 'Jogging! Can you imagine anyone inflicting such torture on herself? As if that weren't enough,' she went on in a rush, 'Dino has called in sick. A virus!' She spat out the word with venom, as though it were a malediction from the gods.

  Bianca relaxed and expelled the breath she had been holding all during the excited recitation. Really, the woman was so dramatic. She should be used to her theatrics by now.

  'Well, now, Madame,' she soothed, 'it's not as bad as all that. It's only Tuesday night. We don't get a very big crowd during the week. Barbara and I can cover the music all right, but I'm afraid I can't help you in the kitchen. Can't someone else do the cooking?'

  Bianca's matter-of-fact tone seemed to have a calming effect on the distraught woman. Heaving a dramatic sigh, she pulled herself up to her full five feet and placed her hand over her heart.

  'I will do the cooking,' she announced. Her voice rang with renewed courage, as though she had just declared her intention of storming the Bastille singlehanded. Her sharp little eyes fastened on Bianca. 'You are sure you and Barbara can manage without Dino and Diane?'

  Bianca shrugged. It would be a long night, and she would especially miss Dino. A good accompanist was a tremendous help in covering up little mistakes, especially towards the end of the evening when she was tired. She decided not to mention this to Madame Tedescu, however. It would only set her off again.