yourself.”
He cocked his head, eyeing her narrowly, as if he saw through the mask of her outrageous humor to the frightened woman underneath.
“After all, you have your life mapped out,” she persisted, moving toward the door. “You might just remind yourself occasionally that you’re engaged.”
His bold, slow gaze moved down her body and back up again, and it was every bit as intimate as his touch had been the night before, in the hot closet. “Why did you let me?” he asked gently, capturing her eyes.
Her lips trembled. She couldn’t get words past them.
“You were lucky,” he said after a minute. “Damned lucky. Or hasn’t it occurred to you that I wasn’t going to stop?”
Her lower jaw dropped slightly. “You…we couldn’t have!” she whispered.
He laughed humorlessly. “Like hell we couldn’t.” He moved closer, looking down at her from a disturbing proximity. “Didn’t you know, my innocent, that people can do it standing up?”
She hated that mocking smile. She hated him, too, for making her vulnerable, for laughing at her. Her face flamed, and she felt her fingers itching.
He seemed to sense that, because he reached down and caught her fingers in his. “He scarred you, didn’t he?” he asked suddenly. “You’re as afraid of your own emotions as…” He didn’t finish the sentence, but she could have done it for him:…
as I am of mine.
It was in his eyes, his face.
“I don’t trust men anymore,” she breathed.
“And I don’t trust women.” He looked down at her mouth and his breathing quickened. “Not one bit.” His fingers tightened on hers.
“Cameron,” she protested in a faint whisper.
That seemed to make it worse. With a rough sound, he lifted her by the waist until she was on a level with his hard, glittering eyes.
“I don’t want you,” he said coldly, desperately, as though he was trying to convince himself. “I don’t want your madcap humor or your quicksilver tongue or this body that makes me ache when I look at it.”
“Then let me go,” she whispered. “And don’t complicate things.”
He drew her slowly against him, brushing her body over his. “Tell me you want to be put down,” he challenged. “Tell me you don’t want my mouth as violently as I want yours.”
“You’re a…levelheaded businessman.…” She faltered.
His head bent. His open mouth bit softly at hers, his breath came fast and ragged. “Open your mouth,” he whispered gruffly.
“No…” It was more a moan than a protest. She tasted him, and felt the excitement all over again. His hands slid around her, bruising hands that lifted and stroked and made her burn with a thousand fires. With a wild little cry, her arms went up and around him and clung. They stood there, clinging, breathing, tasting each other in a fever of need while the grandfather clock in the hall struck and echoed in the silence.
When he finally lifted his dark head, her hands were tangled in his thick hair, her lips were red and swollen from the ardent pressure of his mouth.
“If I let go of you, will you fall?” he asked, sounding shaken himself.
She made a small negative motion of her head and tugged halfheartedly at his hands on her shoulders.
He let her move away. His eyes glittered, his face was hard and strained. He laughed suddenly, bitterly, and his eyes were frankly hostile. “My God, I’m shaking like a boy of sixteen with his first woman,” he said on a harsh sigh.
She fought to keep the tremor out of her own hands. “I think…I should leave,” she ventured.
He shook his head. “Not yet,” he said softly. “Not yet. Don’t run from me.”
“You’ve got Delle!” she burst out.
“Why are you afraid?” he asked. His voice was casual, but his eyes weren’t. “Is it because you think I’m looking for a last fling before I settle down?”
She forced her voice to remain steady. “I’m not wealthy,” she said with a trembling smile. “I have nothing, except my
He cocked his head, eyeing her narrowly, as if he saw through the mask of her outrageous humor to the frightened woman underneath.
“After all, you have your life mapped out,” she persisted, moving toward the door. “You might just remind yourself occasionally that you’re engaged.”
His bold, slow gaze moved down her body and back up again, and it was every bit as intimate as his touch had been the night before, in the hot closet. “Why did you let me?” he asked gently, capturing her eyes.
Her lips trembled. She couldn’t get words past them.
“You were lucky,” he said after a minute. “Damned lucky. Or hasn’t it occurred to you that I wasn’t going to stop?”
Her lower jaw dropped slightly. “You…we couldn’t have!” she whispered.
He laughed humorlessly. “Like hell we couldn’t.” He moved closer, looking down at her from a disturbing proximity. “Didn’t you know, my innocent, that people can do it standing up?”
She hated that mocking smile. She hated him, too, for making her vulnerable, for laughing at her. Her face flamed, and she felt her fingers itching.
He seemed to sense that, because he reached down and caught her fingers in his. “He scarred you, didn’t he?” he asked suddenly. “You’re as afraid of your own emotions as…” He didn’t finish the sentence, but she could have done it for him:…
as I am of mine.
It was in his eyes, his face.
“I don’t trust men anymore,” she breathed.
“And I don’t trust women.” He looked down at her mouth and his breathing quickened. “Not one bit.” His fingers tightened on hers.
“Cameron,” she protested in a faint whisper.
That seemed to make it worse. With a rough sound, he lifted her by the waist until she was on a level with his hard, glittering eyes.
“I don’t want you,” he said coldly, desperately, as though he was trying to convince himself. “I don’t want your madcap humor or your quicksilver tongue or this body that makes me ache when I look at it.”
“Then let me go,” she whispered. “And don’t complicate things.”
He drew her slowly against him, brushing her body over his. “Tell me you want to be put down,” he challenged. “Tell me you don’t want my mouth as violently as I want yours.”
“You’re a…levelheaded businessman.…” She faltered.
His head bent. His open mouth bit softly at hers, his breath came fast and ragged. “Open your mouth,” he whispered gruffly.
“No…” It was more a moan than a protest. She tasted him, and felt the excitement all over again. His hands slid around her, bruising hands that lifted and stroked and made her burn with a thousand fires. With a wild little cry, her arms went up and around him and clung. They stood there, clinging, breathing, tasting each other in a fever of need while the grandfather clock in the hall struck and echoed in the silence.
When he finally lifted his dark head, her hands were tangled in his thick hair, her lips were red and swollen from the ardent pressure of his mouth.
“If I let go of you, will you fall?” he asked, sounding shaken himself.
She made a small negative motion of her head and tugged halfheartedly at his hands on her shoulders.
He let her move away. His eyes glittered, his face was hard and strained. He laughed suddenly, bitterly, and his eyes were frankly hostile. “My God, I’m shaking like a boy of sixteen with his first woman,” he said on a harsh sigh.
She fought to keep the tremor out of her own hands. “I think…I should leave,” she ventured.
He shook his head. “Not yet,” he said softly. “Not yet. Don’t run from me.”
“You’ve got Delle!” she burst out.
“Why are you afraid?” he asked. His voice was casual, but his eyes weren’t. “Is it because you think I’m looking for a last fling before I settle down?”
She forced her voice to remain steady. “I’m not wealthy,” she said with a trembling smile. “I have nothing, except my
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