Indiscretions - Elizabeth Adler [104]
This is ridiculous, Fitz told himself, holding her closer. She’s just a child—Morgan’s girl. He knew that, but then why was his heart beating faster? And why did he have this overwhelming urge to cover the top of her blond head with kisses? He could feel the delicate bones of her back beneath his hands, and glancing down at her face, he noticed the golden-tipped lashes on her closed eyelids. She seemed lost in some kind of dream, her body relaxed against his. It must be this slow sexy music, he told himself, it was too crazy—too crazy that right now all he wanted in the world was to make love to Venetia. Of course it was only the warm tropical night, and the wine and the music—and his memories of Jenny Haven. He was still in love with Jenny.
The music finished and he led her back to their table. She kept hold of his hand and their eyes met. The touch of his fingers sent little electrical thrills up her arm; she was aware of the faint tremor in them as they curled around her hand, and she wanted more, she wanted his arms around her again as they danced, she wanted to be close to him, closer.
They danced some more, slowly, endlessly, just holding on to each other. There was no talk now, nothing, just the two of them in this limbo—and her hair, thought Fitz, smelled of summer meadows.
He shouldn’t be thinking of these things! He’d better get her back to the Fiesta before he made a fool of himself.
“Time to go,” he said gently.
“Ohhh.” Her small sigh expressed infinite regret, but Fitz couldn’t allow himself to be persuaded. He called the waiter over and paid the bill.
The Caribbean Pepperpot was crowded by the time Rory and his entourage got there. He was up for it, really up. He was just thinking he hadn’t had such a good time in ages, and that’s when it happened. He saw Jenny Haven. And then he freaked.
Dirk watched as Rory’s face turned ashen, wondering what the hell was going on. Was the bastard gonna have a heart attack?
Rory grabbed him with a trembling hand. “It’s her, Dirk, oh my God, it’s her! Oh, God, what am I gonna do, what am I gonna do? It’s Jenny, Dirk. You see her, don’t you … or am I the only one? She’s a ghost, she’s gonna haunt me, for Chrissakes.”
“Shut up, Rory,” snapped Dirk, “you’re making an ass of yourself. Jenny’s dead. Don’t you know who that is? Or were you too busy to go to Jenny’s funeral? That’s Venetia Haven. Jenny’s daughter.”
“Her daughter?” Rory laughed, a high false sound that contrasted with the gay music and the happy faces in the crowded entrance. Christ, he hadn’t known she looked exactly like Jenny. “Oh, sure, sure it is.” He pulled himself together, shrugging on his jacket, running his hand through his hair. Delighted shrieks accompanied the gesture; he had been recognized.
“I’ll just say hi,” he said nonchalantly to Dirk, “for old times’ sake, y’know … for Jenny.”
“Sure,” said Dirk, “sure, Rory, for old times’ sake.”
Fitz felt Venetia stiffen as the good-looking young man approached them. Was it someone she knew?
“Hi, Venetia,” said Rory, holding out his hand. “I’m an old friend of your mother’s.”
“I know who you are.” Venetia ignored his outstretched hand, and feeling like a fool, Rory shifted it to his head, stroking back his hair, casually.
Fitz glanced at her sharply. Something was wrong; her tone was icy and her voice trembled just a little.
“I just wanted to say, you know … like I’m sorry about poor Jenny, it must have been an awful shock to you.”
“It was. To all three of us. Good night, Mr. Grant.”
Venetia swept past him, leaving him standing there. Shit, thought Rory angrily, tough little bitch—just like her mother.
“Come on, you guys,” he called, “let’s get this show on the road. Chelsea’s gonna take over this place.” Grabbing Shelly by the hand he pulled her onto the dance floor to the