Red-Hot Lover

By Sarah Holland

Clara Maye and Jared Blackheath are the hottest celebrity couple of the moment.

In the public eye, Jared is a charismatic multimillionaire, and in the bedroom he's a red–hot lover. Clara just can't wait to marry him! But Jared refuses to consider marriage on any terms. Clara knows there is a dark secret lurking in his mysterious past and she's convinced it is linked to his fear of matrimony.

She must prove her loyalty to him before he will ever trust her with his secret. Only then will they have a hope of walking down the aisle.

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers Australia
• Release date: Jul 1, 2012
• ISBN: 9781460844403

Sarah Holland

Sarah Holland (born November 1961 at Folkestone, Kent, England) is a writer, actress and singer best known for her 22 romantic novels for Harlequin which have been published in over 130 countries, selling millions of copies worldwide. Holland wrote her first book, Too Hot To Handle at 18, and became one of the youngest romantic novelists in history when it was published in 1982.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

CLARA stood in the church with tears in her eyes. Jared stood beside her, tall, powerful and charismatic. He was completely against weddings. He disliked them and did everything he could to avoid them. Whereas Clara loved them. Clara was beatific. Clara was floating along on a dream—lost to everything but the beauty of two lives being joined together.

As the bride reached the groom, the music stopped and everyone sat down. Sunlight shimmered over the twinned heads of the young couple. A blaze of light shafted through the stained glass which soared above a golden altar. Sincerity rang in their voices, and their exchanged vows echoed across the stone arches, pillars and walls of the church. It was a brief shining testament to everything most sacred about being human, needing love and joining together in matrimony.

Tears blurred Clara’s vision. She drew in her breath and struggled for self-control, but a muffled sob came from her as she felt hot tears slide over her lashes and down her cheeks.

Jared glanced down his arrogant nose at her, heavy eyelids drooping over steel-blue eyes. She suddenly felt the cool touch of his fingers and looked up breathlessly. Was it possible? Had he been moved by marriage at last? Had something in the ceremony melted his cynical heart?

‘Your mascara’s run,’ he drawled.

Blushing crossly, Clara snatched the handkerchief he offered and dabbed at her eyes. He watched her with a mocking smile. But she refused to take any notice of him because this wasn’t just any old wedding. No, this was the wedding she had waited all her life to see.

Her best friend Susie was the bride, and Clara had known Susie since the day they’d both arrived at the orphanage at the age of eight. They had become blood sisters a year later, vowing to be in touch with each other for the rest of their lives until they really did become family. Now, here was Clara, at the age of twenty-nine, still playing Susie’s ‘sister’ on her wedding day.

‘With my body, I thee worship…’

‘Probably the only vow he really means,’ Jared murmured beside her. ‘And the only one he’ll keep.’

Clara smiled, her green eyes lifting with sensual response to his. For all his cynicism, she knew how important lovemaking was to Jared. He was a marvellous lover and made her feel like a pampered pussycat with just one touch of his hands.

They had been living together for two years, now. She’d fallen in love with him the day she met him, and he’d insisted she move in with him almost immediately. Ever since then they’d been locked into a wonderful, intimate relationship which just kept getting better. The only low points were when they were at weddings. It was odd, really, because Jared was usually so even-tempered. But get him close to a bride and groom and he turned into a very different person. Today he seemed worse than usual.

‘I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.’

More tears misted her eyes. She sighed and clasped the handkerchief to her bosom. How passionate they were, this bride and groom. She wondered how many children they would have. And she imagined herself becoming a real live auntie for the first time, with little nieces and nephews. Of course, it wasn’t the same as having her own children, but she was confident that that would happen one day, no matter what Jared said to the contrary.

‘Silly besotted fool. Susie’s lovely, but Gareth will regret marrying her.’

‘Honestly, Jared,’ she whispered back. ‘I do wish you’d stop it.’

‘You know perfectly well that most marriages end in div—’

‘Shh! They’re going to sign the register!’ Clara looked resolutely ahead as a singer in a blue dress held up her microphone and began to sing. It was that lovely old classic about a wonderful world. She sang so sweetly, and that, coupled with the bride’s glowing amber head as she bent to sign the register, brought tears to every woman’s eyes. Clara felt her mouth tremble.

‘I wish they’d get a move on,’ Jared said impatiently.

‘Well, they’ve got to sign the register!’

‘I want to listen to the rugby on the way to the reception.’

Clara sighed. Normally he wasn’t obsessed by sport, but today England were playing Wales, and, as a Welshman, Jared naturally intended to cheer for his side. The odd thing was that he had spent the last few days rattling on about it as though he was deeply patriotic. Clara had never noticed any patriotism before this particular rugby match. Far from it. He rarely mentioned Wales. While she found his behaviour over the match rather odd, she dreaded to think what a foul temper he’d be in if they lost. Or, worse, if England thrashed them.

Suddenly the bride and groom were at the altar, the organ played and the bells pealed out.

Clara and Jared got to their feet. He towered beside her like a giant. At six foot six, he was more than a whole foot taller than her. Jet-black hair, a tough face and a scar on his right cheek—he was as passionate as he was masculine. His suit was expensive grey teamed with a dark red silk tie, stylishly knotted. Gold cufflinks flashed against crisp white cuffs. He looked just what he was: a multi-millionaire, and one of the most powerful men in Europe.

As soon as the bride and groom had left the church, Jared took Clara’s slender wrist in hard fingers. ‘At last. I thought it would never end.’

Clara swayed down the aisle beside Jared. Her blonde beauty had always drawn admiring looks from men, but her fame as a television actress drew just as many. Long sunshine-yellow hair fell in curls to her narrow waist and the wide-brimmed cream hat gave her an air of mystery that enhanced her natural glamour. She wore a cream silk dress which hugged her slender curves. And she was ravishing. Her face was heart-shaped. Luminous green eyes invited love. A full pink mouth invited kisses. And Jared was the recipient of those kisses, every man seemed to think, staring at him with a mixture of awe and envy. He was as powerfully masculine as Clara was sensual and feminine.

Outside in the sunlight, the London churchyard was filling up with well-dressed guests. A trestle table stood close to the arched doors, covered in linen, champagne, glasses and silver ice-buckets.

Jared spotted the champagne immediately. ‘Perfect! Just what I need after all that romantic nonsense.’

‘I thought it was a beautiful ceremony.’

‘You would,’ he drawled, and strode purposefully to the trestle table to get himself a glass of champagne.

Clara waited by the steps of the church, studying the handsome man who was her lover and the only man she’d ever truly loved. If weddings upset him this much, there didn’t seem any chance he’d ever propose to her. Yet Clara couldn’t understand why. Jared had such sensitivity and intelligence. He’d moved naturally into love from the beginning, and Clara had barely to lift a finger to find their relationship flowing freely with love and trust. So why, she wondered, should he hate weddings and marriage with equal passion? He was already living with Clara as though they were man and wife. Clearly it wasn’t living with a woman that put him off marriage—so what could it be?

He came back, handed her a glass of champagne. ‘Here’s to getting out of this delightful little churchyard as soon as possible.’

‘Honestly, Jared! Why are you so anti-weddings?’

‘Because I’m a normal red-blooded male and you wouldn’t have me any other way.’

She laughed softly, eyes tracing his handsome face with love. ‘Well, I can’t deny that. I’m rather partial to your red blood. In fact, it preys on my mind night and day. But seriously, darling—can’t you see how lovely all this is? The bride, the bridesmaids, the—’

‘Looks like an extravagant waste of money to me.’

‘Coming from a multi-millionaire with two private jets, two private yachts and several homes around the globe—’

‘I can afford to waste money.’

‘So can the groom’s family.’

His face tightened. ‘Will you shut up about it?’ he bit out as anger flared in his eyes without warning. ‘I’m sick to death of this damned wedding! You’ve talked of nothing else for weeks! Let’s just get it over with as fast as possible and get home!’

Stunned, she just stared at him, her lips parted in shock. He had been agitated for the last few days, veering sharply between loving behaviour and sudden bursts of temper. She had put it down to the wedding, because he always played up at weddings. But now she wondered if there was something else on his mind. Something at work, perhaps? Maybe even something to do with money. But how could money be bothering him? He had more of it than Midas.

Moving closer, she put a loving hand on his cheek. ‘Darling, you will tell me if something’s wrong, won’t you?’ Her eyes scanned his face. ‘I mean—you won’t just hide it and try to deal with it alone, will you?’

‘All that’s wrong is that I need to peel that lovely dress off you,’ he drawled, and slid one strong arm around her waist, pulling her slowly towards him. ‘I’ve wanted to make love to you since I woke up this morning. But all you could think of was the wedding, the wedding, the damned wedding!’

‘I’ll make it up to you as soon as we get home,’ she promised huskily in his ear.

‘Make sure we get home quickly, then.’ His mouth moved over her cheek; his breath fanned her naked throat. ‘I want you as soon as possible. Naked but for creamy stockings and that hat. I’ll enjoy all that ladylike elegance as I push you over the bed…’

She responded instantly, fire in her blood. Erotic images exploded in her mind and excitement glittered in her half-closed eyes. She forgot all about her fear that something was wrong, because now she knew precisely what it was. He needed her. That was all that was bothering him. Her body curved seductively against his and she shivered at the touch of his hot mouth on her skin. Eyes closing, head tilted back, she must have looked as though she was already naked in his arms.

‘Would you like that, darling?’ He let one of his long fingers slide down her naked throat, ‘Because as soon as I get you home I’m going to do all of that to you and more—’

‘Jared, darling!’ Susie’s voice rang with happiness as she interrupted their private loveplay. ‘Stop seducing my sister in front of half of London!’

Jared’s whole body tensed. ‘Ah!’ he drawled, lifting his head with a tight, set face. ‘The radiant bride.’

Clara came out of her sensual reverie with a dazed look in her eyes. She heard the faint bite of his tone. A frown touched her brow.

‘That sounds as though you’re saying: Ah! The piranha!’ Susie looked as thrown by his remark as Clara felt. She looked from one to the other, then gave a bright laugh, trying to soften the edge that had crept into the sunny afternoon. ‘Surely even you don’t begrudge my radiance on what is, after all, my wedding day?’

Jared smiled, but his body was tense and Clara told herself it was because of desire. He often got like this. He was sometimes a walking volcano when it came to physical tension. Many times he had come home from work at the end of a long day and made love to Clara for hours, sometimes four or five times a night. He released emotion through making love…

‘Of course not.’ Jared’s impeccable manners returned and his cool voice said, ‘You have my very best wishes and congratulations.’

‘Thank you.’ Susie beamed.

‘I just wish we could all get to the reception as fast as possible,’ Jared said with a tight smile. ‘That’s all. I’d like to sit down, have a drink—’

‘More champagne, Mr Blackheath, sir?’ An usher popped up, brandishing a jeroboam.

Jared watched furiously as he poured.

‘There, you see?’ Susie said when the usher had gone. ‘You’ve just been sitting down and now you’ve got champagne flowing wherever you turn! What more could any man ask for?’

‘Privacy. You forget—there are photographers around. I always feel uneasy when they can take pictures of Clara and I without my permission.’

Clara frowned. He didn’t mind publicity. On the contrary—he actively sought it. It helped his businesses. Publicity always did. The higher the profile, the more business he attracted. That was the way it worked in any sphere of life, and Jared was nothing if not an arch self-publicist. So why was he lying? More to the point—why was he so tense and edgy? Her instincts were buzzing at her from the back of her mind. But no matter what she did or how she looked at things, she could not find a rational explanation for his agitated emotional state.

Susie bit her lip. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to pose for the wedding pictures in a minute. Will that be a problem?’

‘The photos,’ he muttered thickly, and his hand tightened on Clara’s waist as he stood stiffly, his arm around her. ‘I’d forgotten about them…’

Concern lit her eyes as she studied him. ‘Is anything wrong, darling?’ she murmured.

‘Why should anything be wrong?’ he demanded tersely.

‘So you will pose with us?’ Susie said at once. ‘Oh, good, because I must have Clara in the photos, and it’ll be bad luck if you don’t stand beside her.’

‘Will I have to pose with the whole family?’ Jared looked at Susie with a brooding expression. ‘I don’t want to be here all afternoon. I wanted to leave early so