FORGOTTEN LOVER by Carole Mortimer (the reader ebook .TXT) 📕

‘There’s nothing to explain,’ he dismissed harshly. ‘You once again seduced me into your bed—’

She sat up indignantly, hastily pulling her gown up over her bare breasts. ’I seduced you?’ she exclaimed. ‘Well, I like that!’

‘So do I,’ he mocked harshly. ‘Which is why I have to get out of here.’

Velvet frowned as he walked to the door. ‘Was—this the reason you came down here?’ she choked.

He gave a derisive smile. ‘No. Believe it or not I came down to apologise for my behaviour earlier. Vicki assures me that I certainly “pulled a face” at you.’

Her face softened as she thought of the little girl. ‘How is she now?’

‘Asleep,’ he said huskily. ‘Maybe I should apologise for what happened just now too, but as I enjoyed every minute of it I would only be lying if I said I wished it hadn’t happened. You’re as beautiful as ever, Velvet. I thought after all this time that I must have imagined the taste and feel of you—if anything I’d forgotten some of your beauty.’ He shook his head. ‘I wish—I wish you’d still loved me, Velvet.’ He closed the door quietly behind him as he left.

She collapsed back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, still quivering from Jerard’s caresses. Her hand trembled as she pushed her hair back from her face, a curious ache in the region of her stomach, a longing for—for—

She suddenly sprang up from the bed, pushing these tortuous thoughts to the back of her mind, knowing her body was aflame with what her mind refused to remember. Her body remembered Jerard Daniels, it ached for him, each nerve alive and waiting, waiting …

Well, it would wait for ever! Jerard Daniels might have caught her unawares just now, but that would never happen again, that scene on her bed would never happen again.

She went out on to her balcony; the view from her ninth floor window was quite spectacular—the ocean looked dark and beautiful, the clear moonlight picking out the white crests of the waves before they crashed against the golden sand. The palm trees gently swayed in the breeze, the air was warm even at this time of night.

What had happened between Jerard Daniels and herself just now couldn’t really mean anything, not emotionally mean anything. She had just been a normal young woman responding to a yearning that hadn’t been satisfied since Anthony died, a yearning she hadn’t even realised existed.

But of course it existed! She was twenty-two, not ninety-two, and she had a need to be loved and made love to like any other healthy woman of that age. Paul had been trying to tell her that earlier, and she hadn’t wanted to listen to him. How silly she must have sounded when she told them Tony was all she needed! Of course she needed more than that, needed a man in her life. But Jerard Daniels couldn’t be that man, not with the past hanging between them like a threatening shadow.

She sighed, going back into her room and closing the doors to begin preparing for bed. A cold shower was supposed to be good for what she was suffering from—or did that only apply to men? Oh well, it was worth a try. If she didn’t calm down, couldn’t calm this mad excitement in her veins, then she was never going to get to sleep tonight.

She did sleep, eventually, although it wasn’t until she had relived every touch, every kiss Jerard Daniels had given her. She experienced them again and again in her mind, her sleep one of erotic dreams, the promised loving fulfilled. She was in such a pleasant state of euphoria that when the telephone rang in her dream and she picked it up to hear Jerard’s voice on the other end of the line she wasn’t in the least surprised or dismayed.

‘Hello, darling,’ she greeted dreamily.

‘Darling?’ he echoed sharply. ‘This is Jerard,’ he explained tersely.

‘Yes, I know,’ she said softly.

‘Velvet! Velvet, are you awake?’ he rasped.

The fog cleared from her numbed brain, only to realise that she was actually talking to Jerard Daniels on the telephone. ‘I—You—What time is it?’

‘Three o’clock in the morning,’ he growled. ‘Were they pleasant dreams?’ he asked tauntingly.

‘Yes. I mean—No. I didn’t have any dreams!’ she denied heatedly.

‘I’ll bet,’ he drawled. ‘Velvet, I need you.’

She swallowed hard. ‘I—I beg your pardon?’ The dreams seemed so vivid, so real, that for a moment she was having trouble distinguishing them from reality.

‘Not for my own sake,’ he dismissed coldly. ‘It’s Vicki. She’s damn near hysteria. She woke up screaming, now she just keeps crying and asking for you.’

‘For me? But—’

‘She needs you, Velvet.’

‘Of course,’ she threw back the sheet, swinging her legs to the floor. ‘I’ll come up immediately.’

‘Velvet!’ He just caught her before she put the telephone down. ‘Take the time to dress first,’ hmm?’ he suggested tautly.

‘I was going to!’ she said indignantly.

‘I hope so. It’s my daughter you’re coming up here to help, not me.’

‘How could I help—Oh!’ She slammed the telephone down as she realised in what way he was implying she could help him.

Their personal differences, or mutual attraction, had to be put to one side. Vicki was the one who counted now, the one they had to concern themselves with.

She was to wish she hadn’t loved Vicki on sight at a later date, although she had no way of knowing that now. If she had known she might have ignored the first cry for help—although she doubted it.

Vicki looked a sorry sight when Jerard let Velvet into his apartment, a small figure dressed in a cotton flowered nightgown, her hair wild across the pillow, her face red and swollen from the tears she had shed. But she was quiet now, staring straight ahead, her eyes a dull uninterested blue.

Velvet frowned at Jerard. ‘What happened?’ she whispered.

He was pale, obviously deeply distressed by his daughter’s condition. ‘Shortly after I called you she went