Between the Lines

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  “Content?” Gray tasted the word curiously.

  Exasperated, Amber lifted her eyes beseechingly toward heaven and wondered why everyone, her sister, Roarke and now Gray, kept stumbling over the word. “Yes, content. Happy, satisfied, committed. I am not looking for an affair, nor am I interested in relighting old flames. I met Roarke at the mall and made that quite plain to him. I told him to stay out of my life.” Amber paused and then added meaningfully, “I was hoping that would be the end of things.”

  “The mall? You met him at the downtown shopping mall?” Gray looked unexpectedly amused.

  Amber frowned. “Well, where else should I have met him? At a motel?”

  The amusement that had lit his eyes faded at once. “You shouldn’t have agreed to meet him anywhere.”

  Her jaw set stubbornly. “I didn’t want him showing up here. That’s what he threatened, Gray. The last thing I wanted was to have to deal with some sort of unpleasant scene between a new husband and an old boyfriend.”

  “I doubt that he’d have carried things that far. Very few men are that stupid. When you’re out to steal a woman away from her husband, you work covertly. Subtly. You sneak around. You don’t show up on the husband’s doorstep and risk getting your face smashed in. He bluffed you with the threat, and you apparently fell for it.”

  Amber stared at him. “I know Roarke. You don’t. I don’t think it was a threat. It’s the kind of thing he’d do. Roarke Kelley would be quite certain he could handle any mere husband. Knowing Kelley’s penchant for drama, he’d probably enjoy causing such a scene. His reputation thrived on that sort of thing.”

  Gray studied her for a moment and then said gently, “Don’t worry about it, Amber. If he shows up I’ll take care of the matter.”

  Her mouth tightened. “I’ve already handled it.”

  “Have you?”

  “Yes, damn it, I have. Stop looking at me like that, Gray. I’m a grown woman, perfectly capable of dealing with old problems from my past.”

  “You’re a married woman. That means you’ve got a husband to help you deal with any old problems that arise.” The inflection of Gray’s soft, deep voice didn’t change, but his next words were quietly underlined with steel. “You won’t see him alone again, will you, Amber?”

  She lowered her lashes to conceal both the surprise and the resentment that flared to life within her as she absorbed the implications of the coolly given order. Gray had phrased those last words as a question, but there was no doubt they were meant as a command.

  Her surprise stemmed largely from the realization that in the three months she had been with him, Gray had never commanded her to do anything, not even type a letter. When it came to business, they worked together as a team; there was no need for orders. Amber simply did what needed to be done, following Gray’s suggestions when she was involved in something new or difficult. In their private life he was equally easygoing and polite. He had always treated her with respect and consideration. Friendship underlay every element of their relationship. Friends did not give orders to each other.

  As far as Amber was concerned, she didn’t approve of husbands giving orders to wives, either. But she was willing to acknowledge that a husband who found himself in a situation such as Gray had just experienced might believe he had reason to be somewhat concerned. She tapped one fingertip on the arm of the chair.

  “I have no intention of seeing Roarke again,” Amber finally said diplomatically. She refused to directly acknowledge Gray’s quiet command, but she didn’t mind admitting that the last thing she wanted to do was see Roarke Kelley again.

  Gray’s eyes flicked briefly to the tapping finger and then went back to her face. He nodded once, as if satisfied with her somewhat oblique response to his equally oblique order.

  Amber had the odd sensation that her new marriage had just traversed a somewhat sticky spot. She wasn’t quite sure how to interpret the event, but she sensed that on some level something had changed. It had to do with the fact that she was accepting Gray’s right to occasionally indulge the possessive side of his nature. Beyond that she didn’t want to explore too thoroughly. Instinctively she knew that acknowledging such basic factors as masculine possessiveness and husbandly rights added a new and more volatile dimension to a marriage that was supposed to be founded on friendship and quiet contentment.

  “What exactly did Kelley say to you, Amber?”

  Her eyebrows came together impatiently. “Not much.”

  Gray smiled fleetingly. “You can’t blame me for being curious.”

  Her frown deepened. “I don’t see the point in rehashing the whole conversation. It’s over. I told him I was married and intended to stay that way.”

  “Did he ask you to go away with him?”

  “The conversation didn’t get that far!” Amber snapped resentfully. “For heaven’s sake, Gray, I told him I wasn’t interested in him and that was the end of it.”

  “How did you convince him that you weren’t interested in him?”

  Amber’s uncertain mood was about to explode in a rare burst of feminine temper. “Roarke’s as egotistical as they come. He’s also highly competitive. Hardly surprising since he makes his living in such a competitive sport. I hit him at his most vulnerable spot by drawing up a quick list of points that compared him to you and made it clear he was a noncontender.”

  Gray winced. “Uh-oh.”

  Amber glared at him. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Your strategy might not have been the best, honey. You said yourself he’s highly competitive. Making him look like a loser was probably not the best approach under the circumstances.”

  “Nonsense,” she retorted. “I know what I’m doing.”

  “Is that right?” Gray looked faintly amused. “In what way did you compare the two of us?”

  Amber flushed, remembering. “It’s not important.”

  “Maybe not, but I’d like to know.”

  Temper and tension came together, and the resulting explosion left Amber with almost no control over her tongue. She came up out of the chair in a restless surge of energy and stalked to the window. “All right, if you must know, I told him that he was weak while you were strong, that his sense of honor was open to question while yours was solid gold and that, while he was good-looking, you were the kind of lover for whom a woman would willingly commit murder. There. Satisfied? That was the essence of the whole conversation. I got up and left him sitting alone with his cup of coffee. The entire meeting didn’t last more than fifteen minutes, and it took place in full view of everyone in the mall who happened to be strolling past the café.”

  She sensed rather than heard him move. Amber didn’t turn around as she felt the comforting large shape of him directly behind her. Then his blunt, wonderfully sensitive fingers lightly touched the curve of her throat. Instantly the resentment and tension faded. She wanted nothing more than to let herself sink into the tender strength of Gray’s arms. It had been a very trying day.

  “Tell me again,” Gray murmured, “about how good a lover I am. Would you really commit murder to get into my bed?”

  Amber pivoted and found herself folded in his arms. “Egotist,” she grumbled happily against his chest. A vast sense of relief welled up inside her.

  He laughed softly and kissed the top of her head. His hands moved deliberately down the length of her back. “What did you expect after telling me that? I have a strong urge to maintain my status on your list.”

  “Right now?”

  “Right now. One of the advantages of working out of one’s own home. Come away from the windows, my love. I don’t want to share you with some jerk in a boat who has a pair of field glasses.” He drew her back from the panoramic view and then stopped to explore the nape of her neck with his lips. Amber shivered with pleasure, and Gray felt the reaction instantly. “I love the way you catch f
ire when I touch you. I can’t get enough of it.”

  Neither could she, Amber realized with a sense of wonder. She was indeed quite content in her marriage. At the moment she didn’t want to think beyond that single word. Everyone else might find it a curious description of her feelings, but she was satisfied with it. When Gray’s fingers found the hem of her gold sweater and lifted it over her head together with the camisole she wore underneath, she closed her eyes in pleasure.

  Using a rapidly developing sense of touch, Amber began to unbutton Gray’s shirt and unbuckle the belt of his slacks. They undressed each other with growing hunger, and when their clothing was scattered in an untidy heap on the floor, Gray pulled Amber down onto the leather couch.

  She landed in a sensual sprawl on top of him, thoroughly enjoying the freedom of movement the position gave her. The warm excitement in her eyes made Gray laugh huskily.

  “What’s so funny?” she demanded, punishing him lightly with her teeth.

  “Some day I’ll tell you,” he promised. His fingers slid along her spine and paused to draw slow, compelling circles at the sensitive point of her lower back.

  Amber arched like a sleek cat, wanting to demand a more complete answer to her question but too consumed with desire to insist on one. Gray could occasionally be quietly, but firmly stubborn. Besides, there were more interesting things to do at the moment. She splayed her fingers on his chest, enjoying the feel of him. “I think I like being on top.”

  “I’ve noticed. There’s an assertive streak in you, lady.” His eyes gleamed. He trailed his fingers a few inches farther, tracing the curve of her buttocks until Amber gasped and wriggled against him.

  She could feel the full shaft of his manhood stirring against her lower body, and the knowledge that she had such an immediate and powerful effect on him pleased her enormously. She moved again, this time with sensual deliberation, and was rewarded by a low groan deep in Gray’s chest.

  Slowly she used her flattened palms to push herself up until she was sitting astride Gray’s strong thighs. Watching him through half-lowered lashes, she stroked her fingertips down his body until she was touching him intimately, teasingly, tantalizingly.

  “Sweetheart, you’re playing with fire.”

  “I know.”

  “You’d better be prepared to douse the flames.” He fit his hands to her hips, lifting her easily until she was positioned just above him.

  “Any time,” she promised. Amber felt the first probing touch of him against her, and her nails sank convulsively into the muscles of his chest. Then the probe became a fierce, blunt pressure that made her tighten with excitement. “Ahh, Gray,” she whispered thickly as he lowered her slowly downward until he was buried in her.

  She took charge then, delighted in being able to set the pace. Gray seemed content to let her until the last few moments when his own passion threatened to erupt.

  “Now, sweetheart,” he urged roughly, the gold in his eyes very intense.

  “Are you sure?” She couldn’t resist teasing him, even though the tightening coil of sexual tension in her lower body was about to snap.

  “I’m sure.” His fingers clenched into her thighs. “Soon,” she murmured, slowing the pace just enough to frustrate him.

  “I can’t wait any longer.”

  “Yes, you can.” She slowed the rhythm a bit more and then cried out softly as his fingers tightened in response.

  “I think I’ve had about all I can stand of your brand of teasing, honey.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  His laugh was very low and very sexy. “You bet your sweet tail it is.”

  He moved then, lifting her, sliding out from under her and pinning her beneath him in one swift, powerful motion that made Amber’s senses spin. She moaned with excitement and pleasure as he parted her legs and again surged into her. Her head went back over his arm, her eyes tightly shut and her hair fanning out around her in a soft tangle.

  “Wrap your legs around me,” Gray ordered, his voice taut with passion. He kissed the tip of her breast as she willingly obeyed. “That’s it. My God, you drive me crazy.

  “Oh, Gray, I can’t wait any longer.” Now it was Amber who was pleading for release. She strained against him, seeking to force him more deeply into her hot, damp warmth. Her breath came in quick, pulsing beats.

  “Soon,” he said, pulling back slightly.

  “No, now.”

  “You can wait.”

  “I can’t possibly wait. If you don’t finish this, I’ll fall apart.”

  “You’ll fall apart, anyway. You always do in my arms. I’m getting addicted to the response I get from you.” He tormented her further by again withdrawing until he was just barely inside her.

  “Gray, please...?” She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or scold. She was delirious with desire. A fire was consuming every nerve ending in her body, and she knew she had to quench it or go mad with frustration.

  “You’re not the only one who can tease.” But his own face was a mask of barely checked passion. It was all Gray could do to draw out the suspense even a few more seconds.

  “You’re not teasing me, you’re torturing me!’

  “Never,” he assured her with a gently mocking sensuality that made her nip at him with her sharp little teeth. “Ouch!”

  “Do your husbandly duty or I’ll take another bite,” she vowed.

  “I shouldn’t surrender to threats. It sets a bad precedent.”

  “But you will surrender, won’t you?” she pleaded softly as she tightened her legs around his waist and lifted herself once more.

  “Oh, God, yes,” he groaned and let slip the last of his control. He poured himself into her, sheathing himself to the hilt in the snug velvet channel.

  Amber sucked in her breath and then she was whispering Gray’s name over and over again in a litany of release and satisfaction. Her own name mingled with his as Gray groaned and shuddered heavily against her. The climax caught them both and whirled them through the frenzied rapids of release and into the quieter waters of relaxation that followed.

  For a long time Amber lay beneath Gray’s heavy, utterly replete body and gazed dreamily up at the ceiling. Her fingers drifted in lazy, languid patterns on his back as she thought about the man who held her now and the man who had thought he could seduce her this afternoon.

  The list of comparisons she had drawn up on the spur of the moment to convince Roarke that he didn’t stand a chance was only the beginning, Amber realized. She could have gone on and on making such comparisons, and Roarke would have fallen short on every point. It was hard to imagine how she could once have been so captivated by Kelley. She had been a fool, little knowing what had waited for her in the future. If she had, she wouldn’t have wasted so much emotion on a good-looking race car driver whose only real assets were the ability to drive a car and sell motor oil.

  Then again, Amber thought with sudden insight, perhaps she wouldn’t have been able to appreciate what Gray had to offer if she hadn’t been through that traumatizing experience with Roarke. Life had a way of teaching its lessons very thoroughly. Impulsively she put her arms around Gray and hugged him.

  He reluctantly lifted his head and looked down at her, a smile playing at the edge of his mouth. “What’s that all about?”

  “Nothing, I’m just happy.”

  “Content?”

  She smiled, not noticing the watchful, appraising gleam in his eyes as he studied her. “Very.”

  * * *

  The new issue of Radiant Sunsets arrived the next morning. Amber found it immediately in the pile of mail she had retrieved from the mailbox and raced back into the house waving the small journal triumphantly.

  “It’s here! Ms Abercrombie’s article is here. I’m going to read it first. I can’t wait to see what she had to say.”

  G
ray lounged back in his swivel chair and groaned. “You might as well read it aloud. I want to see just how nutty Honoria Tyler Abercrombie really is.”

  Amber grinned and sat down in her own chair, tossing the remainder of the mail carelessly on the desk. Eagerly she opened the little journal to the table of contents. “Here it is, ‘The Use of Erotic Metaphors in the Poetry of S. U. Twitchell.’ Page twenty-three.”

  “I’m getting incensed already.”

  “I haven’t even started,” Amber assured him with relish.

  He cocked one brow. “You haven’t even started?”

  “I meant I haven’t even started to read it.”

  “Oh. Well, don’t keep me in suspense.”

  Amber began to read the article in a grave tone. The piece was every bit as serious as any of the ones Gray had written. Ms Abercrombie cited the same poems Gray had referenced in his last article, drawing entirely different conclusions. The piece concluded on page twenty-five, and Amber finished reading it with barely repressed jubilation:

  “It is obvious from the above examples of Twitchell’s art that he was not simply a balladeer or a teller of legends. His goal was far more complex and sophisticated. The subtle, erotic quality he brings to such poems as ‘The Ballad of Billy Ballantine’ and ‘Gunslinger’s Lament’ are not isolated examples. His poetry is infused with similar sexual metaphors.

  “Twitchell was clearly obsessed with ways of equating guns with manhood. The weapons of the Old West are classic phallic symbols in his work. But in this respect he simply shares in the ubiquitous male mystique perpetrated by later chroniclers of the West.

  “S. U. Twitchell’s unique quality was in taking the erotic references much farther than other Western poets have done. He doesn’t limit himself to using guns as sexual metaphors. No, indeed, Twitchell goes beyond that. He uses practically every landscape description, everyday Western artifact and every heroic confrontation in a metaphoric sense. Each line is laced with sex.