The Gift Read Free Page A

of here.
    Where was Kat? They’d shared a taxi here. She’d have to tell her friend she was leaving.
    She’s probably getting it on somewhere with Greg.
    A sudden, sharp image of herself getting it on only heightened the spiralling sexual mayhem. She swayed as images rushed in again, but not the usual fairly soft-focus ones of her mysterious rescuing prince from years ago, or the occasional movie star or actor. No, this time the scarred and bearded stranger who’d just left her was centre stage. And he was touching her in a way that no imagined or remembered lover ever had. Doing things her cook had described getting up to with her sexually adventurous boyfriend, who worked here at the Waverley part-time.
    Swiftly, she moved away from the photo of Signor Guidetti and walked purposefully in the direction of the exit to the hotel’s reception area. Her feet screamed blue murder but she ignored the gathering pain.
    ‘Leaving so soon?’ enquired a voice in her ear as she attempted to sidestep a chattering knot of guests that barred her way.
    Her mystery man of scars was holding out a glass to her. The wine in it was effervescing, and an exquisite pale gold. She had a feeling it wasn’t from the general vat of industrial Chardonnay that everyone else was slurping. It looked as if the stranger had brought her a glass of Champagne.
    ‘Thanks.’ She took it from him, careful to avoid touching his fingers this time. She didn’t want to spill a fine vintage all over him. ‘And no, I wasn’t leaving. I just thought I’d slide outside and get some air.’
    It’s December, Sandy. He’ll think you’re nuts!
    Grey eyes like brushed steel narrowed infinitesimally, as if he didn’t believe her story, and their controlling expression compelled her to turn back towards the centre of the room.
    ‘And you were confident I’d follow and find you then?’ He clinked his glass to hers, and then took a sip of his wine. ‘Mm … that’s better. Drink up!’
    Sandy sipped, and then sighed spontaneously. Oh, what a pleasure! The Champagne was superb, dry and crisp yet almost buttery, the very essence of French glamour in a glass.
    ‘Thanks,’ she said again, with much more fervour, ‘this is delicious. Thank you very much.’
    ‘You can thank me properly by telling me your name.’
    The steely eyes challenged her. Sandy felt her stomach flip. If names were exchanged, the game was on in earnest. She couldn’t just walk away, because it wasn’t just a casual but disquieting moment any more.
    ‘I’m Alexandra Jackson. It’s a pleasure to meet you.’ She shuffled the strap of her bag on her shoulder, swapped hands with her glass, and then held out her right one to him. He swapped his glass to his other hand far more smoothly than she’d managed to, then offered a large tanned right hand that seemed to dwarf her slender paler one. There were even crooked white scars across the backs of his knuckles.
    ‘I’m Jay Bentley. And the pleasure is all mine.’ There was a wealth of meaning in the low gravelly words, and Sandy stifled a gasp as, between her legs, her sex fluttered.
    ‘Er … is that a capital “J” or like the bird?’ she burbled, saying the first thing that came into her head to cover her confusion.
    ‘Jay’ laughed, his sharp eyes narrowing. ‘Either. Or both. I’ve never thought about it. You choose.’
    Surely you know your own name?
    ‘Like the bird then.’
    ‘“Jay” it is then, Alexandra.’ Reaching forward, he finally took her hand.
    His skin was warm and smooth and dry, and Sandy was instantly aware that her own palm was sticky with nervous perspiration. She tried to snatch it back, but Jay held on, staring directly into her eyes as if engaging her in a contest.
    ‘It’s “Sandy” … my friends call me “Sandy”.’
    ‘So I’m your friend then, am I, Sandy?’ He tilted his closely cropped head on one side, still holding her hand, still pouring a stream of electricity into her body