the man who was more king of the carpeted boardroom than of the broad savannas. He tingled with all kinds of anticipatory thrills.
“Paul?”
Her voice was hoarse, reedy with emotion. Paul absorbed the sound of it into his expanding fantasy. She was his, if not forever, at least for this last night. All he had to do was stalk... and take. The realization dissolved the last lingering thread of hesitation and doubt. He had spent his life giving. He had surrendered his manhood giving. For this one night, he was finished with giving. He would take anything, everything he wanted. His stride firm, Paul advanced on the woman he could taste with every one of his clamoring senses.
She knew what to expect. With heightened tension, Paul could see understanding flare deep in her eyes. Flecks of gold excitement sparked within the brown depths. She was fighting a battle with self-denial. Paul could actually see the inner war being waged. The visible proof of her struggle against herself increased his own tension to an unbearable heat. And he could see the instant need for surrender weakened her resistance.
As he came to a stop inches from her, Paul threw back his head and laughed; the sound was not unlike the victory roar of the deadly jungle beast.
Karen was his!
His laughter thrilled and frightened her at one and the same time. There was something different about Paul this night; he was not the same man who had drawn her with such care and tenderness onto the floor of the dining alcove that morning. The man she now faced revealed not a trace of tenderness. Sheer male animal gleamed from his narrowed dark eyes, a feral male animal on the scent of his mate. His appearance terrified her with excitement.
Wanting him, and afraid of the intensity of her own sudden wild, inexplicable needs, Karen stopped breathing and slid one foot back, edging away from him. The smile that curved his lips halted her shifting foot. Karen froze for an instant that was an eternity. Then, gasping, she spun away.
Her movement came too late. Paul’s arm whipped out, and his fingers wrapped around her wrist. With the most negligent of tugs, he whirled her around. Her chest collided with his, igniting fires in places in her body that were already warm and willing. Before she could draw a full breath, he was swinging her up into his arms. With three long strides, Paul was by the side of the bed. He grunted, and the sound was one of deep pleasure. Then he lifted her up, high, and tossed her onto the bed.
“Paul!” The cry exploded from Karen, a one-word protest that lacked conviction. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Paul paused in the sublimely casual act of removing his robe to glide a calculating glance at the enticing length of her body. She was clad in a sheer nightgown. One dark eyebrow peaked tauntingly.
“I’m going to give you a memory to take with you to Boston.”
Tension coiled over her shoulders to converge in a knot at the back of her neck. Applying conscious effort, Karen eased the white-knuckled grip she had on the steering wheel. The road undulated in front of her like an unwinding ribbon, moving her toward a reunion with her sons and uncertainty about their father. Behind her, the road of ribbon whipped back, and contained a long expensive car.
Karen flicked a glance into the rearview mirror and felt the knot in her neck contract. The midnight-blue vehicle gleaming in the pure sunlight of a perfect In-dian-summer day trailed her small compact at a safe distance of three hundred feet. But before too long, the road behind her would be empty, regardless of how many vehicles replaced it on the highway. The first leg of her journey lay a little more than an hour away; Paul would be going in another direction after they parted company near the town where the small, exclusive prep school was located.
The edges of the road blurred as a film of tears misted her eyes. Lifting one hand from the wheel, she brushed her fingertips
“Paul?”
Her voice was hoarse, reedy with emotion. Paul absorbed the sound of it into his expanding fantasy. She was his, if not forever, at least for this last night. All he had to do was stalk... and take. The realization dissolved the last lingering thread of hesitation and doubt. He had spent his life giving. He had surrendered his manhood giving. For this one night, he was finished with giving. He would take anything, everything he wanted. His stride firm, Paul advanced on the woman he could taste with every one of his clamoring senses.
She knew what to expect. With heightened tension, Paul could see understanding flare deep in her eyes. Flecks of gold excitement sparked within the brown depths. She was fighting a battle with self-denial. Paul could actually see the inner war being waged. The visible proof of her struggle against herself increased his own tension to an unbearable heat. And he could see the instant need for surrender weakened her resistance.
As he came to a stop inches from her, Paul threw back his head and laughed; the sound was not unlike the victory roar of the deadly jungle beast.
Karen was his!
His laughter thrilled and frightened her at one and the same time. There was something different about Paul this night; he was not the same man who had drawn her with such care and tenderness onto the floor of the dining alcove that morning. The man she now faced revealed not a trace of tenderness. Sheer male animal gleamed from his narrowed dark eyes, a feral male animal on the scent of his mate. His appearance terrified her with excitement.
Wanting him, and afraid of the intensity of her own sudden wild, inexplicable needs, Karen stopped breathing and slid one foot back, edging away from him. The smile that curved his lips halted her shifting foot. Karen froze for an instant that was an eternity. Then, gasping, she spun away.
Her movement came too late. Paul’s arm whipped out, and his fingers wrapped around her wrist. With the most negligent of tugs, he whirled her around. Her chest collided with his, igniting fires in places in her body that were already warm and willing. Before she could draw a full breath, he was swinging her up into his arms. With three long strides, Paul was by the side of the bed. He grunted, and the sound was one of deep pleasure. Then he lifted her up, high, and tossed her onto the bed.
“Paul!” The cry exploded from Karen, a one-word protest that lacked conviction. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Paul paused in the sublimely casual act of removing his robe to glide a calculating glance at the enticing length of her body. She was clad in a sheer nightgown. One dark eyebrow peaked tauntingly.
“I’m going to give you a memory to take with you to Boston.”
Tension coiled over her shoulders to converge in a knot at the back of her neck. Applying conscious effort, Karen eased the white-knuckled grip she had on the steering wheel. The road undulated in front of her like an unwinding ribbon, moving her toward a reunion with her sons and uncertainty about their father. Behind her, the road of ribbon whipped back, and contained a long expensive car.
Karen flicked a glance into the rearview mirror and felt the knot in her neck contract. The midnight-blue vehicle gleaming in the pure sunlight of a perfect In-dian-summer day trailed her small compact at a safe distance of three hundred feet. But before too long, the road behind her would be empty, regardless of how many vehicles replaced it on the highway. The first leg of her journey lay a little more than an hour away; Paul would be going in another direction after they parted company near the town where the small, exclusive prep school was located.
The edges of the road blurred as a film of tears misted her eyes. Lifting one hand from the wheel, she brushed her fingertips
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