by Diana Palmer
A corner of his thin mouth pulled up. He studied her and suddenly scowled. She was wearing a simple gray suit with a pale pink blouse and black high heels. “My God, what’s happened to you?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Did someone die?”
“You said...!”
He moved forward and took her by the shoulders. “Put it back in the box, and don’t wear it again,” he said firmly. “Blind me with colors. Dangle bracelets while you take dictation. Just be yourself. I’ll never make another discouraging remark about you as long as I live.”
She chuckled softly. “Mr. Stuart, you’re weakening.”
“Don’t I know it.” He searched her eyes quizzically. “I have a first name, you know.”
She formed it in her mouth. “Nelson,” she said softly.
He stiffened. It was erotic, hearing his name on her lips.
She recognized the tautness of his face. “Amazing,” she breathed.
“You don’t know the half of it,” he said through his teeth.
Her breath began to jerk out of her throat. She looked at his mouth, and all sorts of unsuitable behaviors occurred to her.
“You could kiss me,” she said outrageously. “I promise not to say one word about sexual harassment.”
“Not even if I bend you back over the desk?” he asked with graveyard humor. “Because that’s what might happen.”
She took a step closer, and then another. Doors were opening in her mind, in her heart. She went right up against him, feeling his sudden arousal and not frightened by it.
He put her away. “No,” he managed.
“I won’t tell if you won’t,” she whispered, lifting her face. She parted her lips and closed her eyes.
Nelson was only human. He groaned. His mouth hit hers with the same ferocity she remembered, except that this time she wanted it. She locked her soft arms around his neck.
He made sounds in the back of his throat that were erotic and arousing. She bit his lower lip and felt his mouth open, felt his tongue thrust into her mouth.
They strained to get closer to each other. Her breasts hurt from the pressure of his hard arms, and it was sweet and heady. She clung, feeding on his mouth, tasting him, while the world went on outside the office.
He put her down abruptly and stepped back until he could lean against the desk. He was blatantly aroused, with no way to hide it.
She didn’t embarrass him by staring. But it was enlightening to know that he couldn’t really resist her.
“This isn’t the place,” he said.
She nodded.
His hands tightened on the edge of the desk that was supporting him. “You don’t want to run this time?”
She shook her head, very slowly. “I’ve kept men away since it happened,” she replied. “I haven’t wanted to know what real intimacy was. But I’ll let you teach me, if you like.”
If he liked. He drew in a breath that was audible. “I’m an old-fashioned man.”
“That’s all right. I have my principles, too.”
“Quiche Saturday night.”
She hesitated. “Tonight, if you like.”
He had no willpower left. “Tonight.”
“Okay.” She left while she still could.
That night they shared a quiche and watched wrestling on cable-TV. Somewhere in the middle of it, she crawled onto his lap and coaxed him until he kissed her.
Neither of them had much practice at it. They spent the evening learning all the soft, sweet ways there were to make two mouths talk to each other without words.
But when she guided his hand on her breast, he pulled away and sat up. And despite all her pleas and coaxing, he wouldn’t go any further.
“We’ll make haste slowly, if you please,” he told her, grinning through his desire. “We’ve got something good here. Don’t let’s spoil it by going too fast. All right?”
She couldn’t argue with that. She moved nearer and closed her eyes, feeling his heart beat under her chest. “All right.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
AFTER A POSTPONEMENT of his appointment for several days that very nearly drove him mad, the examination was finally over, and Josh had been sweating out the results overnight. Today, it was time. He sat reluctantly and restlessly in his doctor’s private office in Nassau.
He used the company doctor in San Antonio for routine examinations, required by the insurance company, but there was a good reason for his visit to this physician. He was having some very secret tests done, and he didn’t want to run the risk of leaks in case his suspicions were confirmed. The Lawson name was well known enough that the tabloids would have loved a shot at him.
He wasn’t a particularly religious man, but he’d done his share of praying. He wanted Amanda. The time he’d spent with her had convinced him that she’d be all he’d ever want. But until he was certain that he could go to her a whole man, could offer her the future she deserved, he didn’t dare talk to her about his worries.
He put down the magazine he’d been trying to read and stared around him irritably, with barely concealed impatience. He hated waiting, especially now. His brother had finally gotten up enough nerve to approach him for help, and he’d turned him down. Now he was worried. What if something happened to Brad and it was his fault?
He’d always had more than his measure of self-confidence, but now he began to question his own attitude toward weakness. He was afraid of vulnerability. Well, except when he was with Amanda, he amended, smiling softly at the memories. It didn’t really bother him to let her see him with his mask off. But Brad didn’t seem to know that he was wearing one. Had he been too inflexible, too impatient, with his brother’s weakness?
The nurse motioned him into Dr. Edmonds’s office, and he went in, frowning worriedly. Dr. Edmonds sat behind his desk and glanced up, motioning Josh to a seat. His eyes were on the test results.
“Well, how am I?” Josh asked impatiently. “I know my cholesterol is high, but I’ve given up cheese.” He leaned forward intently. “Tell me the rest.”
The Bahamian doctor, who was even younger than Josh, raised his dark head and grimaced. “I don’t like giving prognoses like this,” he said quietly, his very correct British accent crisp in the silence.
“I’ve got a week to live,” Josh guessed cynically to cover up his sudden fear.
“No, nothing fatal.” He tossed the file onto the desk and leaned back. “You’re in perfect health except for one thing. That fertility test you had us conduct. I’m afraid it came out negative. You have a sperm count that is almost nonexistent. Did you have any childhood diseases late in your youth?”
Josh felt his blood run cold. All his adult life he’d suspected that he was sterile, because there had been occasional lapses with women and no one had ever brought a paternity suit or mentioned being made pregnant by him. He’d always suspected. Now he knew. His face went taut with disappointment. “I had mumps when I was in high school.”
“You do realize that mumps can cause sterility?”
“Yes,” he said dully. “I hoped it was an old wives’ tale.”
“I’m afraid it’s documented. It can, and does, cause it. You won’t be able to have children.”
Josh felt the hope drain out of him. He couldn’t father a child. He would die without issue. There would never be a son or a daughter with his blood. And because of that, he couldn’t rob Amanda of a normal life. He had to let her go, forever.
“Sweet Jesus!” he whispered, and it sounded like a prayer for mercy.
“You can get a second opinion,” Dr. Edmonds continued. “In fact, I’ve sent your tests to a colleague myself, just to make sure there’s been no error.”
Josh didn’t answer. He stared into space, stricken.
The doctor looked worried. “Josh, it isn’t the end o
f the world!”
To Josh, it was. He stood up on unsteady legs.
“Let me give you something,” Dr. Edmonds said.
“I’m all right!” Josh’s cold eyes glared at him. “You said so, didn’t you? There’s nothing wrong with me, after all. Only a nonexistent sperm count!”
“In time, you’ll adjust to this,” Dr. Edmonds told him. “You have to believe that you will, given time.”
“Like hell I will.” Josh turned on his heel and left the office, his mind in limbo. Sterile. He heard the word with each step he took. By the time he reached the cab he’d taken from the airport, he was hearing it with his heartbeat.
“Drive until I tell you to stop,” he told the driver as he closed the door and leaned back against the seat.
* * *
BACK IN SAN ANTONIO, Brad and Amanda were having a meal together in an exclusive restaurant downtown on the Paseo del Río. It was a nice night, very starry and warm, and Amanda felt comfortable with Brad. She always had. He was a sweet man.
He sipped his white wine and smiled at her. “Isn’t this nicer than work?” he remarked.
“Yes. I’ve been busy almost every night this week.”
“Too much work will dull your brain. Look at Josh.”
Her heart skipped. She kept her eyes on her place setting. “How is he?”
“I haven’t heard from him since I left Nassau,” Brad said tersely. “And I don’t care if I never do again. I’m sick to death of big brother reading me the riot act.”
“You know you’d die for him,” she teased.
“Not today I wouldn’t.”
“You look worried,” she said.
“I am. I can’t beg, borrow, or steal enough money to clear my slate in Las Vegas,” he said. “I’m at a dead end right now.”
“Did you talk to Josh again?”
“Finally,” he said irritably. “And of course, he said no. He says I’ve got to get myself out of it. Fine thoughts, if they don’t find me floating in the canal one night.”
“They wouldn’t kill you,” she faltered.
“Wouldn’t they?” He smiled cynically. “You’re incredibly naive sometimes, Amanda.”
She grimaced. “I suppose I am.”
“That’s why Josh fancies you, I imagine,” he continued deliberately. “His women are always like the beautiful Terri, very svelte and sophisticated. You’d be a novelty in his bed.”
She stiffened. “That’ll be the day.”
He turned away before she could see his face. He wanted to keep her from getting involved with his brother. The more time he spent with Amanda, the more she meant to him. Why, why had it taken so many years for him to realize that of all the women he knew, she was the only one he could ever really care about?
“Suppose we go dancing after we eat?” he asked quietly, smiling as he turned back to her. “You’re divine in that dress. I can’t wait to get my arms around you.”
She laughed, but she didn’t flush or stammer. Brad was a tease and a playboy.
The laughter hurt Brad. She wouldn’t take him seriously, and it stung his pride. “You don’t think I mean it?” he asked.
“I’m sure you always mean it, Brad,” she replied. “You like women.”
He stared at the tablecloth. “I like you especially, Amanda.”
She touched his hand, smoothing over the back of it with affection. “I like you, too.”
He held her clear green eyes for longer than he ever had before, and something stirred inside him. But she didn’t tremble or flinch or retreat from the sudden hot glitter of his eyes. She simply pretended not to see it.
He didn’t like his own reaction, and hers was insulting. He withdrew his hand with a forced laugh. “How long have we known each other?” he asked.
“Since I was in grammar school,” she recalled. “Since we were both in the same grammar school, that is.”
“You and your friend Mirri were inseparable,” he mused. “But you were both a couple of years behind me, and I never associated with children.”
She laughed delightedly. “You snob, you. Mirri had a crush on you.”
“I know. But she was too shy to suit me.” He shook his head. “I saw her a few weeks ago in a restaurant. What an amazing change. She’s the most flamboyant little heartbreaker I ever saw. Incredible that she was sitting alone.”
He didn’t know about Mirri, and it wasn’t Amanda’s place to tell him. She only shrugged it off and changed the subject.
They went dancing at a popular nightclub. Brad was actually a much better dancer than Josh. But it was Josh’s arms she remembered, and her heart ached.
“You’re very quiet,” he said at her temple. The feel of her slender body in his arms was doing strange things to him. He’d never felt desire for her before. How odd that it should happen now, when his life was fraught with complications.
“I’m dreaming,” she murmured.
“About what?”
She couldn’t admit that. She lifted her dancing green eyes to his face and laughed. Her black hair was loose tonight, falling softly down her back almost to her waist. Brad looked at it and pictured it haloed around her soft oval face on his pillow. The hunger it kindled in his body made him stiffen.
“I was thinking about my job,” she remarked without noticing his momentary hesitation. “I think I’m making some headway.”
“You watch out for Johnson,” he cautioned. “He’s a shark. He’ll nibble you to death if you threaten his job.”
“I know that.”
“And don’t ever think Josh would take your side against him,” he continued coldly. “He may employ women executives, but only because his image requires it. Privately he has nothing but contempt for women in business.”
She didn’t agree with that, but she didn’t argue. She smiled up at him dreamily. The liquor and the music were disarming her. “I don’t want to talk about Josh,” she murmured, and linked her arms around his neck. “Let’s just dance the night away.”
His heart was beating double time. She was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. Impulsively he bent and brushed his lips sensuously over hers.
“Hey, cut that out,” she teased, lowering her cheek to his chest. “Honestly, Brad, you’re impossible.”
His face tautened until it was almost painful as he moved in time to the music. He didn’t understand what was happening. He’d only recently considered Amanda in a romantic sense, yet he’d expected her to trip over his expertise and fall into his arms. She hadn’t. She seemed immune to him. She was more than special; she was a challenge. He couldn’t let it alone. He tried again, and again she parried his efforts.
Frustrated, he laughed and teased and pretended that it didn’t matter. But it did. When he took her home and she offered him her hand instead of her mouth, it took all his willpower not to drag her into his arms and kiss the breath out of her.
He drove back to his house so fast, he got a speeding ticket. Nothing seemed to be going right for him!
Brad didn’t sleep very well that night. When the phone rang in the early hours of the morning, he’d only just drifted into oblivion. He cursed and grimaced when he saw the time.
“Lawson,” he said into the receiver, his voice slurred with sleep and alcohol.
“Brad? It’s Ted Balmain.”
He sat up. “Yes, what is it?”
“I think you’d better come down here to Opal Cay. Something’s wrong with Josh.”
“What?”
“He’s drunk as sin and locked up in his den with a gun. None of us can get him to come out or talk to us. I’ve never seen him so out of control.”
The speech didn’t penetrate. He was too sleepy to understand what he was hearing. “Josh doesn’t drink and you know it. He’s just had a tiff with one of his women or somet
hing,” he said irritably. “He’ll be all right in the morning. Go to sleep, for God’s sake.”
He slammed down the receiver. Josh was a painful reminder that Amanda didn’t want him, that she did want Josh. He couldn’t have cared less at the moment if Josh drowned himself in a gin bottle. In fact, he thought angrily as he pulled the pillow over his head, he’d enjoy it! Damn Josh for being in the way!
* * *
TED HESITATED, STARING at the telephone receiver in his hand. If Brad wouldn’t listen, somebody else had to be made to realize how dangerous the situation was. In all the time he’d worked for Josh Lawson, he’d never seen the man so agitated.
That doctor must have said something terrible to him. Josh needed someone who cared about him. There was only one other person he could call. He searched on Josh’s desk for the number and dialed it with controlled haste.
Several frantic hours later, Amanda got off the plane in Nassau and climbed aboard the helicopter Ted had sent to bring her to Opal Cay. She was still half-asleep, her face devoid of makeup and her hair long and loose because she hadn’t had time to do more than run a brush through it. She’d had to drag Mirri out of bed to tell her she was on the way to Opal Cay, so her friend wouldn’t worry. She’d already phoned Ward Johnson, who’d made a grumpy remark about being shorthanded and slammed the phone down on her. He’d pay for that one day, she promised herself.
Mirri had tried to tell her something about Nelson Stuart, but Amanda had cut her off. Time was precious. Josh was in bad shape, and she couldn’t waste a second getting to him. She hoped she’d made that clear to a sleepy, puzzled Mirri, but it didn’t matter right now. Nothing did, except getting to Josh.
Ted had mentioned that Josh had gotten some test results that afternoon. Amanda knew about his physical, and her blood ran cold. He’d been hinting about some condition. What if he had cancer? He’d said he didn’t, but that was before the test results. He smoked those cigars. He kept threatening to quit, and presumably he’d gone to that smoking seminar. What if it was that or something worse than that? What if one of the women he’d slept with had given him some killer disease?
She’d never been one to bite her nails out of nervousness, but by the time she arrived at Opal Cay she’d gnawed them all off just barely above the quick.