CONTROL....
Alex held on to the need for it with grim concentration as he drove Gina and Marco home from the picnic. It had been a good afternoon. He'd enjoyed being with both of them. He'd probably talked too much about his life, warmly encouraged by Gina, her interest even drawing him into reminiscences about his childhood, but at least talking had kept at bay the rampant desire to touch her, to recapture the incredibly intense sensuality that simmered in his memory.
Just the scent of her, right beside him in this cabin, was making it difficult to keep his focus on the road. Friendship was important, he told himself. It was more important than sex for any lasting relationship. But the very fact he'd felt she was in tune with everything he'd told her about himself this afternoon—understanding, appreciation, amusement so clearly in her eyes—made him want to leap into a deeper intimacy all the faster.
Not in front of the boy, he'd cautioned himself and that stricture still held true. Better to wait until Marco was more used to having him around, accepting him naturally as the man in his mother's life, the man who shared her bed. And picked up his clothes!
An ironic smile twitched at his lips. He'd give anything right now to be able to tear off Gina's clothes and his own, to have all the pleasure of being naked with her, making love. She wanted it, too. Her body signals had been positive towards him all afternoon. He was sure it was just a matter of reaching out, taking...
No!
It could wait. She'd invited him to dinner on Wednesday night. A return of hospitality for the picnic, she'd insisted. Marco would undoubtedly be put to bed at a reasonable time. He would have Gina to himself— a situation she must be thinking of, as well—the two of them alone together in a private place.
Anticipation spread a treacherous excitement. He tried to block his arousal by rushing into speech. "I'll bring a bottle of wine on Wednesday evening. My contribution to dinner."
"If you like. But you didn't let me contribute to the picnic, Alex."
"That was my penance and my pleasure." He shot her a smiling appeal. "All worries gone now?"
Her sigh expressed happy satisfaction. "I've had a lovely afternoon.
Thank you."
The warmth in her voice left him in no doubt of it. As he brought the Land Cruiser to a halt in front of her home, he told himself to be content with having established a good rapport with her. And with her son, who had nodded off in his car seat. If Marco stayed asleep as Alex carried him inside...
No! Don't start something you'll want to finish!
The circumstances were still risky. Just see them to the door and take your leave while the going is good.
With fierce control over almost-irresistible temptation, Alex went through with his plan, aided by Marco's waking up the moment he was lifted out of his seat. The little boy's bright chatter made cheerful goodbyes relatively easy, and Alex was congratulating himself on not having transgressed his own ruling as he walked back down the path to drive away.
A white sports convertible pulled up behind his Land Cruiser as he opened the front gate.
Peter Owen stepped out of it.
Alex paused, tension spiralling through him like a wire spring being compressed, wanting to be released with explosive action. He didn't want Peter Owen with his rotten smarmy ways anywhere near Gina. And what the hell was he doing here? Not content to screw Michelle, he had to try his luck with Gina, too?
"Hi! Been visiting my new partner?" came the casually confident greeting.
Alex unclenched his jaw. "Partner?" he grated out, barely containing the violent feelings this man stirred.
"Gina of the fabulous voice," he rolled out with relish. "Wasn't she marvellous last night? Your grandmother certainly made a great find with her."
"Yes, she did," Alex agreed, but not a find for the likes of Peter Owen. "Thought I'd drop in and line up some gigs with her."
"On the off chance she was here?"
"Well, she is, isn't she?" He nodded to the veranda where Gina and Marco were still standing, waiting to see Alex go...or find out what Peter Owen's arrival meant. "Luck is running with me."
The claim riled Alex further. Owen had the habit of seizing opportunity and turning it into his playground. "Don't press it too far, Peter," he warned. "My grandmother wouldn't like having her find diverted. She's taken quite a shine to Gina Terlizzi."
Amused eyebrows were raised but the eyes beneath them were hard and cold. "Oh, the Kings don't own everything around here, Alex. People can make choices. It's up to Gina what offers she decides to take."
True, Alex privately conceded, and he'd have to trust Gina's judgement on this, but he hated the thought of this slime oiling his way into her life. He remembered she'd said a career singing on the club circuit did not attract her, and hoped Owen could not persuade her otherwise.
"Of course, the choice is hers," he agreed with a shrug, realising to play too protective a hand might well represent a stimulating challenge to a man who thrived on any stimulation to his ego. "Just make sure she knows what you're offering."
A cynical amusement accompanied his retort. "I never promise more than I deliver."
And that was short and sweet in Peter Owen's book. Alex hid his contempt, not wanting to reveal what he'd witnessed the night before. "Fair enough!" he granted. "Though I hope you keep her situation in mind. She's got it tough, being a young widow with a child."
"Well, maybe I can give her a bright spot or two." Alex had to resist the savage urge to smash his face in, wiping out the raffish charm he used so successfully on women. "I'll leave you to it then," he bit out.
Owen raised his hand in a mock salute. "See you around, Alex."
He had to leave. He had no right to block the path to Gina's door, nor forcibly turn Peter Owen away from it. As he moved to get into the driver's seat of the Land Cruiser, he glanced back to the veranda and was surprised to see no one there. Gina had obviously decided to take Marco inside the house, not waiting for his conversation with Peter Owen to end. Perhaps she thought Owen had simply been catching up to him and wasn't here for her. Whatever the reason for Gina's absenting herself from his departure, he still had to go.
It was up to her to decide on any further connection with Owen. It was her choice. Just as Michelle's little peccadillo last night had been a choice, too. People did what they wanted to. He'd find out on Wednesday night what Gina wanted. In the meantime, he had to curb his protective and possessive instincts and wait.
One thing was certain.
He was not going to be part of a triangle with a man he despised.
"Which video would you like? Jungle Boy?" It was Marco's favourite, and Gina hoped it would keep him occupied while she spoke to Peter Owen.
"Yes, Jungle Boy," he agreed, settling himself on the lounge in ready anticipation.
Despite his nap in the Land Cruiser on the way home, he was still tired from all the excitement and activity of their picnic and it was highly probable he would doze off in the TV room while watching the video.
Which would wreck his usual bedtime. Better that than giving Peter Owen fuel for gossip, Gina decided.
He was a gossipy kind of man. During their rehearsals last week, his conversations with her had been peppered with titillating bits about people he knew. Amusing but with a slight touch of malice in them. Gina didn't like the idea of being his newest bit of news, speculation running rife since he certainly knew of Alex's engagement to Michelle Banks. Being branded "the other woman" would be horrible.
It was disturbing enough that he'd turned up just as Alex was leaving. She had the strong impression Alex hadn't liked the coincidence, either. His back had gone quite rigid as Peter Owen had stepped out of the car and from what Gina had observed of their conversation, it hadn't relaxed him one bit.
It worried her what had been said. No doubt she'd find out soon enough. Her own urge to keep her relationship with Alex King private had driven her into the house, firstly to settle Marco out of the way, and secondly to put her bag out of Peter Owen's keen sight. His curiosity would be stirred enough at finding Alex here.
The doorbell rang just as the video came on. "Stay here, Marco," she firmly instructed. "Mama has to talk about singing with Peter Owen. It's business, okay?"
"Okay." His gaze was already glued to the screen.
Gina did her best to control her nervous apprehension as she went down the hall. This was nothing but a professional call, she told herself, though Peter Owen's decision to visit without telephoning first, didn't seem properly professional. In fact, she didn't like it at all. It was downright presumptuous of him to think he would be welcomed at any time. In fact, she didn't feel inclined to ask him into her home. It felt like an intrusion.
As a result, when she opened the door, she stepped straight out onto the veranda to do whatever talking was needed. "This is a surprise, Peter," she started off. "What brings you here?"
"The sweet smell of success," he answered rather grandly, accompanying the words with a smile full of charming appeal. "We were a hit last night, you know."
"I'm glad you think so, but..."
"Oh, I was lunching in the area and it occurred to me I should strike while the iron is hot, so I carried on here to lay out some ideas to you," he rolled out, explaining his presence and holding out the bait of future work with him.
Somehow the idea of being paired with Peter Owen—even professionally—made her feel uncomfortable. Last week she'd been focused on performing at the castle, in front of Alex King. Right now...maybe she was foolish to turn down a connection like this. Probably the more sensible course was to put the whole issue off until she could give it more consideration.
"I'm afraid this isn't a good time," she said apologetically. "Marco is tired and about to become fractious. I've settled him in front of the TV, though it may not hold his interest for long and..."
"Alex just brought you home from the castle?" Peter interjected, avid curiosity underlining every word.
"It's been a long day," she replied with a weary sigh, leaving the question unanswered.
"And you're feeling frayed," he chimed in understanding.
She offered an ironic smile. "I am a bit. Was there anything urgent you had in mind, Peter?"
He reached out and ran a finger down her cheek as he pressed his interest. "Just don't forget how good we are together. I think we can capitalize on our duet act, Gina. Think about it. I'll call you during the week."
"All right," she agreed, though she didn't care for the over-familiar gesture.
His smile beamed approval. "Good girl!"
Inwardly she bridled, feeling she was being patronised, which of course she was, since he was the professional singer and much older than she was. All the same, he had come to her, not the other way around.
"I think I should tell you I only do weddings, Peter," she blurted out. "Performing in clubs is not for me."
"Ever tried it?" he bounced right back. "No."
"You have a great voice, Gina Terlizzi. Time you let more people hear it." He slid out the understanding smile again. "I realise you're tired right now and your son takes up a lot of your day, but you have a life to live, too, and a gift that shouldn't be squandered." He raised his hand to ward off any further protest from her. "Sleep on it. I'll be in touch." His argument carried the same attitude held by Michelle Banks. Gina pondered this as she watched Peter return to his car. A gift...wasted. But was it really? She enjoyed singing, and she couldn't deny a good performance in front of an audience gave her a buzz. It was nice to be applauded, nice to give people pleasure.
Nevertheless, she had no delusions about how much work would have to go into pursuing and forging a career, and from all she'd read about the music business, there were far more lows than highs in it. Even with the step up Peter Owen might be able to give her, wouldn't he want favours in return for any success he brought her?
He drove off in his dashing white sports car—a status symbol proclaiming how successful he was? But how happy was he with his life? Two divorces behind him...
Gina shook her head as she went back inside her home and closed the door on an afternoon which had been more eventful than she could ever have imagined. She might have been more open to listening to Peter Owen, if not for Alex King's advent in her life. The chance of a relationship with him was more important to her than anything else and she didn't want to mess it up by not being available when he wanted to be with her.
Hardly a feminist viewpoint, she thought ironically, walking down the hall to the TV room. Marco had fallen asleep on the lounge. As she looked at her sleeping son, she saw Angelo in him so clearly, her heart turned over.
He deserved to have a father. She wanted a husband.
Was Alex King the man who could give them the love and caring they'd lost? Or was she chasing rainbows?