by Sandra Brown
"They swathed my head in bandages, put me in a hospital bed, and shot a few minutes of tape while I lay there motionless. Anytime they refer to Doctor Hambrick, they'll splice in that piece of tape. And while they do, I'll be here with Jennifer enjoying autumn in New Mexico."
"You can do that?" Lauri had only a vague idea of the powers of network television and thought that Drake was taking a dangerous gamble as far as his career was concerned.
He only shrugged. As he did, his head fell back against the cushion of her breasts. Her fingers traced up his jaw, over his temples and rubbed rhythmically. One might imagine that she was holding his head against her, but she knew better.
"For a while," he said, finally answering her question. "In all humility I've kept that show afloat for several years. I've got a few strings I can pull. Besides, everyone knows how temperamental we actors are." He was joking, but the words struck Lauri like a slap in the face. Yes, I know, she thought.
To change the subject she asked, "Where will you be staying?"
He laughed and tilted his head back to look at her, an action that caused her breath to catch in her throat. Did he realize what he had just moved against?
"Where will I be staying?" he mocked. "Well, my room is the large one upstairs. The one with the king-size bed and the mirrors on the closet doors."
Lauri jumped away from him as if she'd been shot. Her mellow mood of a few minutes ago was completely dispelled. "You can't mean that you're staying here!"
"I'm sure as hell not checking into the Mountain View Motel, Ms. Parrish," he said sarcastically. "Of course, I'm staying here."
"But you can't. Not with me living here. We'd be—" She licked her lips nervously and clasped her hands together. "You just can't, that's all." Her words sounded childish, even to her.
"Did you start to say that we'd be living together?" He could barely control the humor in his voice. "Yes, I guess we will. In a manner of speaking."
"That's impossible!" she cried.
"Why?" he asked with feigned innocence. Then his green eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Ms. Parrish, I'm surprised at you. You weren't attaching any illicit connotation to the situation, were you? You wouldn't take advantage of me, would you? Am I in danger of being compromised?"
"No. You're certainly not!" she exclaimed coldly. "Not by me anyway. But you are in danger of being locked up in an insane asylum if you think I'll go on living in this house while you're here. If you stay, I'll have to leave."
"No, you won't," he said confidently as he stood up and flexed the shoulder muscles she had soothed. "Jennifer needs you, and you love her too much to desert her. By the way, I want to see her. Is she in the small room upstairs?"
With characteristic arrogance he dismissed her arguments as if they were nothing and walked calmly out of the kitchen, leaving her standing in the middle of the room, seething with impotent rage.
He was right, of course. She wouldn't leave Jennifer. She had only now won the child's complete trust and affection. If she left, Jennifer might suffer irreparable psychological damage. It was crucial to her development and education that Lauri stay with her and continue as they had been.
But she couldn't live here with Drake! She couldn't reside with any man and remain detached. But to live under the same roof with Drake, who could melt her with one touch, one look, would be unthinkable. His provoking conceit would keep her temper perpetually agitated. What kind of masochistic torture was she subjecting herself to by staying?
But she would stay. She had known it all along, and so had he. Her only rationalization was that he would soon tire of the quiet life in Whispers and be clamoring to return to New York. Until then she would stay away from him as much as possible. Surely he wouldn't be here long. A week? Two?
She walked up the stairs slowly and went into Jennifer's room, where the night-light provided soft illumination. Drake was sitting on the bed with Jennifer clasped tightly in his arms. He was rocking her back and forth, patting her on the back. Lauri withdrew and went into the bedroom that Drake would now use. She began gathering up a few items to take downstairs with her.
"What are you doing?" The deep voice startled her. She turned and saw him lounging in the doorway.
She avoided his eyes and his question as she asked, "Did she go back to sleep?"
"Yeah," he chuckled. "I don't think she really woke up, but now she knows I'm here."
Lauri nodded and turned to pick up the clothes she had laid out on the bed. "What are you doing?" he repeated.
"I'm getting out of your way," she answered. "If you can wait till the morning to unpack, I'll move my things downstairs then. I'll only take what I need with me now."
"That isn't necessary. Leave everything where it is," he said sharply.
"But I told—"
"I'll sleep in the room downstairs. There's no sense in your moving again."
"But this is your room, Drake. I wouldn't feel right taking it, since the other one is so small."
"I'll adjust. Besides," he said, sauntering into the room, "I like the idea of having you in my room. In my bed." His voice had become husky as he came nearer. It intimated that he would be in that bed too. Lauri's blood pumped like molten lava, and her legs were barely able to support her when he reached up and cupped her head with his hands, sliding his fingers under her hair.
"Your hair is almost dry," he whispered. "I liked it wet too." He caressed her cheek with his lips. "Don't think that bulky shirt hides your figure. I know exactly what your breasts look like, after seeing them covered by only that inadequate damp towel."
His lips toyed with hers, tuning them as one does an instrument before a concert, preparing them for his complete possession. When it came, her lips were ready, and welcomed the indelible imprint he branded onto them that seared into her soul.
His hand moved languorously down her spine to the small of her back. Pausing first for a brief massage, it slipped to her hips and drew her against him. The contact with his body left no question in her mind about his driving desire. Answering with a natural, reciprocal need, Lauri rubbed against him and heard him gasp with pleasure.
Thrusting all her previous caution aside, she matched his kiss with unreserved ardency. Her tongue and lips couldn't taste enough of him. When he lifted his head to caress her cheek with his free hand, she raised up on tiptoe and, with the tip of her tongue, outlined his upper lip just below the brush of his mustache.
"Lauri," he moaned, before he captured her mouth again and searched each secret crevice with an insatiable tongue.
His hand slipped down between their bodies and caressed her collarbone with sensitive fingers. Then they traveled lower until he encountered the first button of her shirt. He opened it expertly and smoothed the top curve of her breast, made more pronounced by being pressed against his chest. His fingers were warm velvet against the honeyed satin of her skin. Under his manipulation, the second button fell away as easily as the first.
Lauri breathed his name when he buried his face in the hollow of her neck and covered her breast with the palm of his hand. He stroked it, pressed it, teased it, until it throbbed with an aching that spread to the center of her body.
Cupping the soft mound, he lifted it free of her shirt. He held it in his hand like a precious treasure. "I adore these freckles," he whispered and lowered his head. He paid them far more homage than they warranted. The kisses he planted into her flesh made her head reel, and she laced his hair with frantic fingers, pulling him closer.
The tickling mustache and nibbling lips rid her of the ability to think, to reason. She didn't want to emerge from this euphoria. She wanted to stay in it until she knew the full glory of making love to Drake.
As if reading her mind, he settled his lips a breath away from that bud on her breast that was desperate to feel the dewy touch of his tongue, but had to be content with the caressing mustache.
"Lauri, let me know your sweetness," he pleaded. "Now. Please. I need your softness. I want you."
>
His words pierced through that cocoon of sensuality he had spun around her and stabbed through her brain like a laser beam.
Need. Want. Yes, he wanted her. His physical reaction to their embrace was all too evident when he held her this tightly. Why then did she hesitate to surrender completely?
His avowal that he wanted no emotional attachments had brooked no speculation to the contrary. What he wanted and needed wasn't Lauri Parrish the person, the spirit; he wanted her body – and only that. He needed a cradle for that masculine force whose entreaty for release was inexorable. Should she grant him that, his need would be appeased. But there would be no outpouring of thoughts – or feelings – of the essence of the man himself.
Drake Rivington didn't love her. He still loved his wife. The one time he had spoken of Susan, the personal pain of his loss was heartbreaking in its intensity and embarrassing for the one who witnessed it.
As much as she wanted him, she couldn't take him on those terms. But how could she refuse him now? Her desire was all too real. He held her virtually naked and pliant in his arms. His deft fingers were loosening the remaining buttons of her shirt. He would never believe that she had suddenly come to her senses and developed a guilty conscience. Her only recourse was to feign anger. That he would believe.
And in a way she was angry. She hated herself for not being able to accept him on any terms when her body longed for him. But she had been down that treacherous road before. Paul had used her sexually as a balm for his pain, his agony. What about hers? Who had been there to ease her suffering?
Never again.
"Drake, Drake," she strangled out and used what little strength her resolve provided her to push him away. "No."
His eyes were glazed with passion, and it took a moment for him to clear his head and realize that she was forbidding him cessation of a physical torment.
"What's the matter?" he asked, still stunned by her unexpected denial.
She buttoned her blouse with clumsy fingers as she stepped away from him and turned her back. "I can't – I don't want to sleep with you," she said euphemistically.
"Like hell you don't," he said, lunging for her. She eluded him and held up hands that warded him off. "Don't you touch me again. I meant what I said," she said in a rush.
His eyes glinted like green ice. He was understanding her now. "And I meant what I said," he growled. "You want me as much as I want you."
"No, I don't," she said heatedly.
"Your body says otherwise, Lauri," he said with captivating serenity. "I can feel how much you want me. My hands have brought you to a fevered pitch of craving, and my mouth can do more."
"No—"
"And I want to do more. I want to do everything. I want—"
"Sex!" she interrupted him with an exclamation she hoped would override his seductive language. "I resent your thinking I would be so willing to give myself to you when you've made it eminently clear that you want nothing but sex from a woman." She took several deep breaths.
"I said I wanted no emotional entanglements. That doesn't mean when I hold a very beautiful and desirable woman that I wouldn't like making love."
"Love!" she cried. "You said you loved your wife—"
"Leave my wife out of this," he snarled.
His reaction was so feral that Lauri took a backward step. She should have known better than to taint his wife's memory by bringing her into this sordid discussion. That thought made her angry, and she raised her chin in defiance.
"I'm not one of your fluttering admirers," she said scathingly. "I'm your employee – and I expect you to treat me as such." She hoped her words held more conviction than she felt. Even now, with his hair in disarray and his clothes rumpled from her exploring hands, she wanted to run to him and beg him to kiss her again. She couldn't let him know that. She held the muscles of her face rigid.
"All right," he said tightly. "Even Doctor Hambrick hasn't resorted to rape, and Drake Rivington doesn't have to." He turned away and strode toward the door. Before he went through it, he faced her again with a smirk curling his lip. "Don't feel too victorious. You want me, and I'll have you yet. It's only a matter of time."
He closed the door with more force than was necessary.
* * *
Chapter 6
«^»
How dare he talk to me like that! Lauri kept thinking.
She had thought a night's sleep might mitigate some of her anger over Drake's departing words, but she found upon awakening that her fury had only increased. He had caught her vulnerable and unawares with his sudden arrival. He was charming, devastatingly handsome, virile, and accustomed to women falling all over themselves for him.
Well, he'd soon learn that Lauri Parrish wasn't susceptible to his charm. It would be a cold day in hell before she would fall into bed with Drake Sloan.
She wore a look of grim determination when she descended the stairs and walked toward the kitchen. A cursory glance in Jennifer's room had verified Lauri's prediction that the little girl would already be awake and in the company of her father.
She pushed open the barroom doors that separated the kitchen from the dining alcove and strolled with affected nonchalance into the sunlit room. The scene that greeted her was too tranquil and pleasant to perpetuate anger, and the rebellion slowly seeped out of her, gradually deflating her like a leaky balloon.
"Good morning," Drake said in sign as well as verbally. "Jennifer is having cereal for breakfast, and I'm having toast and coffee. What do you want?" God, he was gorgeous, Lauri thought. His hair sparkled with silver lights from the sun that was streaming through the window. The sleeves of his sport shirt were rolled up to his elbows while the shirttail had escaped the confines of his jeans. The threat she had seen on his face when he left her last night had been replaced by a dazzling smile that was even more disarming.
"Good morning," she said and then leaned down to hug Jennifer who was scooping spoonfuls of cereal into her mouth.
She turned to Lauri excitedly and said in sign, "Daddy is here, Lauri."
"I know," Lauri answered. "Do you feel sad?"
"Noooo," said Jennifer. She liked to say that word and it was easy for her, so she dragged it out.
"Are you mad?" Lauri asked. They had had a lesson on basic emotions a few days ago, and Lauri was putting her student through a test.
Jennifer giggled and said, "Noooo."
"Then how do you feel about Daddy being here?"
Jennifer paused a minute and groped for the right sign in her mind. "I am happy," she said, and laughed as Lauri applauded the correct sign. Then she asked her teacher, Are you happy that Daddy is here?
Lauri straightened up quickly, hoping that Drake wasn't watching. He was. His thick, expressive brows raised in query.
"Well? Answer Jennifer. Are you happy that I'm here?"
He had put her on the spot. Jennifer was looking up at her with eager expectation. Grudgingly she signed and said, "Yes. I'm happy that Drake is here." Jennifer was satisfied and went back to her cereal.
"You may want to check her hearing aid. I'm not sure I put it in right," he said. Lauri lifted Jennifer's curls and checked the placement and volume gauge on the aid, which was molded into Jennifer's ear. "It's fine," she said.
"Good. What do you want for breakfast?" he asked as he liberally spread butter on the toast.
"I don't eat breakfast," Lauri said. "Coffee is enough for me."
His eyes traveled the length of her body in a perusal that made her blush hotly. "Is it abstinence that keeps you so trim?"
Retreating from his knowing eyes, she went to the countertop and poured coffee into a mug that shook in her trembling hand. As he passed her on his way to the table, he slapped her playfully on the rump. resting his palm against the firm flesh for a moment longer. "Abstinence from too many pleasures can make you nervous, grouchy, and old beyond your years."
She had a perfect retort on the tip of her tongue, but Betty chose that time to fling ope
n the back door and bounce through it with her usual exuberance. Pink curlers were radiating from her head at varying angles. The quilted robe had been secured at her thick waist with a careless knot. Furry slippers increased the size of her feet to an alarming proportion.
She halted and stood stock still when she saw Drake sitting at the table. Her wide brown eyes stared and her mouth opened and closed like a fish washed ashore. If her expression hadn't been so comical, Lauri would have felt compassion for her friend.
She was biting back laughter as she introduced them. "Betty Groves, this is Drake Rivington. Drake, this is the neighbor I was telling you about."
"Good morning, Mrs. Groves," he said, standing and going toward Betty with an outstretched hand. Betty raised her hand like an automaton and Drake shook it lightly. "Lauri's told me what a help you've been to her and Jennifer. I want to thank you for looking after my girls in my absence."
Lauri gasped at the implication, but before she could protest, Betty groaned loudly, "Oh, my God! I look terrible! I just ran over to borrow a cup of sugar. I had no idea you would be here, Doctor Ham – Mr. Sloan – Mr. Rivington. Why didn't you tell me he was going to be here, Lauri?" she asked accusingly.
"I di—"
"You look lovely, Betty. May I call you Betty?" Drake interrupted Lauri before she could defend herself. "Where's our sugar, Lauri?"
Our? My girls? He was doing everything in his power to make it seem like they had set up housekeeping together. She shot him a deadly look over Betty's shoulder, but his eyes only shone with amusement and were free of contrition.
"It's in the pantry," she answered frostily. Neither Betty nor Drake noticed.
"Would you get some for Betty, please, while I pour her a cup of coffee," he said offhandedly as he escorted the enamored Betty to the table. He was playing his charming-celebrity role and Lauri was disgusted by it.
"You look just like yourself," Betty simpered as she sat at the table under Drake's direction. "Really, I shouldn't take up your time. My kids are waiting—"
"Please, as a favor to me, share a cup of coffee." Drake's practiced smile would have talked an angel out of its wings. "Didn't Lauri tell me last night that you had two children?"