waited contritely for him to tell her everything was all right again. Dara could have bitten her tongue out for having fought so unfairly. The gray and green eyes were full of her anxiety as she gazed up into his face, her hands still gently framing his hard jaw.
"How can I refuse?" he whispered a little hoarsely, his fingers gliding up her arm to capture one of her hands. "When you say it so nicely." He touched his lips to the sensitive area of her palm, first kissing it and then closing his teeth ever so tantalizingly on the flesh at the base of her thumb. The utter eroticism of the caress chilled her.
"Yale?" The question in her voice was clear and tremulous. He smiled gently down into her face. Without a word he drew her against him and kissed her.
"Do you always go from raging inferno to sweetly yielding female so quickly?" he breathed in amusement as his lips feathered across hers. "I find it fascinating, you know. So much fire and so much warmth."
"Yale, no!" Dara's voice was a plea as her eyes closed involuntarily against the force of her own passion. "I won't let you stay tonight. I can't!"
"We'll talk about it in the morning," he promised thickly. She knew he was letting the arousal he had held in check all evening begin to take command. She could feel it in the growing tautness of his thighs as he used his hand to force her close against him.
"Don't fight me, honey," he begged, shifting his leg so that it thrust between hers. Off balance and terribly aware of her vulnerability in the intimate position, Dara tried to resist.
"I won't let you do it!" she whispered, pushing at him even as her body longed for the embrace. "I won't conduct another...another business transaction with you, damn it!"
"No?" he mocked huskily, his hands moving down her sides, sliding across the high breasts with loving slowness before descending to the shape of her waist. He urged her closer so that his upper thigh pressed heavily against her. The thin fabric of her dress was little protection and Dara was fully conscious of the hard maleness of him.
The undeniable evidence of his physical response to her was a seduction in itself, she realized, alarmed. She felt the rush of longing she had known the night before and began to panic.
"No!" she gasped in answer to his mocking question. "No, I will not allow another business deal between us, because you couldn't afford the price this time!"
The defiant words seemed to scorch the air around them. Dara froze as she felt the savage tension in him. His hands clenched into her soft flesh and his words came back angry and raw.
"What price, Dara ? Name it! We'll find out whether or not I'll pay it!"
She was committed, forced to follow through on her wild threat. She felt backed into a corner and she came out fighting for her very survival.
"The price is marriage, Yale! I don't want you to get the idea I'm still selling myself for anything so paltry as a stock account! You'll have to marry me this time!"
A taunting wickedness flashed in the hazel eyes. "Is that your idea of revenge, little tabby?" he drawled.
"That's my idea of how to stop a Southern gentleman in his tracks!" she flung back, incensed at his barely masked humor. "Force yourself on me tonight and I will demand that you do the honorable thing!"
"I think," he informed her gravely, "that you're in the wrong part of the South. Where I come from we called that sort of thing a shotgun wedding. Have you got a shotgun?" he asked interestedly.
"Push me too far tonight and you'll find out!" A thoroughly ridiculous promise, Dara thought gloomily. How could you force a man to marry you? Unless, of course, his own code of honor required it....
“I do believe you're trying to threaten me, sweetheart," Yale murmured, gliding his hands down her back and capturing her hips in a kneading grip. His lips hovered in the vicinity of her ear and she trembled at the overpowering nearness of him.
"Those are my terms, Yale," she breathed, her
"How can I refuse?" he whispered a little hoarsely, his fingers gliding up her arm to capture one of her hands. "When you say it so nicely." He touched his lips to the sensitive area of her palm, first kissing it and then closing his teeth ever so tantalizingly on the flesh at the base of her thumb. The utter eroticism of the caress chilled her.
"Yale?" The question in her voice was clear and tremulous. He smiled gently down into her face. Without a word he drew her against him and kissed her.
"Do you always go from raging inferno to sweetly yielding female so quickly?" he breathed in amusement as his lips feathered across hers. "I find it fascinating, you know. So much fire and so much warmth."
"Yale, no!" Dara's voice was a plea as her eyes closed involuntarily against the force of her own passion. "I won't let you stay tonight. I can't!"
"We'll talk about it in the morning," he promised thickly. She knew he was letting the arousal he had held in check all evening begin to take command. She could feel it in the growing tautness of his thighs as he used his hand to force her close against him.
"Don't fight me, honey," he begged, shifting his leg so that it thrust between hers. Off balance and terribly aware of her vulnerability in the intimate position, Dara tried to resist.
"I won't let you do it!" she whispered, pushing at him even as her body longed for the embrace. "I won't conduct another...another business transaction with you, damn it!"
"No?" he mocked huskily, his hands moving down her sides, sliding across the high breasts with loving slowness before descending to the shape of her waist. He urged her closer so that his upper thigh pressed heavily against her. The thin fabric of her dress was little protection and Dara was fully conscious of the hard maleness of him.
The undeniable evidence of his physical response to her was a seduction in itself, she realized, alarmed. She felt the rush of longing she had known the night before and began to panic.
"No!" she gasped in answer to his mocking question. "No, I will not allow another business deal between us, because you couldn't afford the price this time!"
The defiant words seemed to scorch the air around them. Dara froze as she felt the savage tension in him. His hands clenched into her soft flesh and his words came back angry and raw.
"What price, Dara ? Name it! We'll find out whether or not I'll pay it!"
She was committed, forced to follow through on her wild threat. She felt backed into a corner and she came out fighting for her very survival.
"The price is marriage, Yale! I don't want you to get the idea I'm still selling myself for anything so paltry as a stock account! You'll have to marry me this time!"
A taunting wickedness flashed in the hazel eyes. "Is that your idea of revenge, little tabby?" he drawled.
"That's my idea of how to stop a Southern gentleman in his tracks!" she flung back, incensed at his barely masked humor. "Force yourself on me tonight and I will demand that you do the honorable thing!"
"I think," he informed her gravely, "that you're in the wrong part of the South. Where I come from we called that sort of thing a shotgun wedding. Have you got a shotgun?" he asked interestedly.
"Push me too far tonight and you'll find out!" A thoroughly ridiculous promise, Dara thought gloomily. How could you force a man to marry you? Unless, of course, his own code of honor required it....
“I do believe you're trying to threaten me, sweetheart," Yale murmured, gliding his hands down her back and capturing her hips in a kneading grip. His lips hovered in the vicinity of her ear and she trembled at the overpowering nearness of him.
"Those are my terms, Yale," she breathed, her
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