True Colors

by Diana Palmer

  "Slide down a little," he whispered, smoothing over one perfect breast with his lips.

  "Don't you mean up?" she asked dazedly, because the intimacy was making her body pulse with fever.

  "No."

  She slid down and only then realized what he had in mind. One steely hand caught her thigh and levered one of her long legs over his hip. In the same instant, his free hand slid to her lower spine. A second later he pulled her body close and she felt him go into her.

  She gasped. "Cy, no, it's too soon !"

  "Shhhh. I'll take the risk." He brushed his mouth over her eyelids, closing them. His body ignited as his hands smoothed and caressed, easing her into a rhythm as slow as the tides, as relentless as time. "Feel me," he breathed against her lips. "Feel how completely I can fill you."

  "Yourback!" she wept.

  He smiled even through his raging desire. His mouth brushed over her flushed face, gentling her as the rhythm continued, soft and slow and worshiping.

  "It isn't hurting me," he reassured her. And it wasn't. He kept his spine straight. The pain had diminished almost completely over the past few days and, except for infrequent muscle spasms, was rapidly becoming a memory. What he was doing to Meredith blotted out pain. All he felt was her soft warmth enveloping him, her body welcoming and submissive. He heard her soft cries as he built the steady rhythm, felt her hands clenching where they held him. He lifted his head, because he wanted to see her face. It was like a mask of unbearable pleasure, her eyes half-closed and blind with need, her teeth clenching with every movement he made.

  "Cy," she whispered brokenly. Her eyes opened. When she spoke, each word jerked out of her in the same rhythm his body was enforcing on her. "Iloveyou!"

  "Yes." His hands tightened on her narrow hips. "Stay with me," he whispered. "Gently, sweetheart. Sogently. Take me. Take all of me, Meredith." Cy slowly deepened the tender movement with his hands as he pulled her closer each time.

  "It willhurt you," she managed, her last sane thought of his safety.

  "If this is pain," he said through a building wave of sensation, "let me die of it, then!"

  She gasped and tears began to shimmer in her eyes as the slow spiral to satisfaction began. She stiffened helplessly, oblivious to everything except what he was giving her. The tenderness was terrible, the ecstasy unbelievable. Nothing they'd ever shared was like this. She hadn't dreamed that two people could join so completely, so that bodies and minds and souls all seemed to merge in one colorful maelstrom of perfection.

  "Let it go, my darling," he whispered as her face began to blur, sweat beading on his forehead, his muscles straining as his hands clenched and his powerful body began to jerk. "Let it go. It's all right, it's all right, Meredith, it's all right!"

  She moaned in anguish and gave in to it. After that, reality blurred into regions of unexplored savage fulfillment. She heard him cry out, but she was beyond anything except pleasure as her own body began to convulse in mindless ecstasy.

  Her nails were hurting him. She knew they were. She forced herself to release them from their stranglehold on his shoulders. She was trembling all over. She couldn't even breathe without gasping. Her body was totally without control.

  "Cy?" Her eyes opened. Her head was lying beside his on the pillow, her hair damp with sweat, as was his. His body was shivering and his eyes were still closed, his thick lashes against pale cheeks. "Oh, Cyare you all right?" she asked in anguish.

  His eyes began to open, slowly. They were almost black, but it wasn't pain that dilated the pupils or caused that slow, tender smile that tugged at his swollen mouth. "Yes," he said, his voice drowsy with exhausted pleasure. "Are you?"

  "I'mfine," she said huskily.

  His lean hand traced her face, lingering on her soft mouth, slightly bruised from his kisses. "Only fine?" he asked.

  She began to color, her cheeks and then the rest of her. Shyly she averted her eyes to the hard pulse in his throat. "I can't find the words."

  "Neither can I." He brushed his mouth against her eyes. "This is what love should be, Meredith," he said softly. "This incredible oneness. What we just did was more than a little casual sex. It was a total giving, and taking."

  "I know. It frightened me."

  His hand tangled in her hair and brought her face to lie in the curve of his throat. "There's nothing to be afraid of. Not ever again. We belong to each other so completely now that there can't be anyone else for either of us. Not for the rest of our lives."

  Her heart almost stopped beating. She burrowed closer, careful not to jar him any more than necessary. He was hinting at total commitment, but she was afraid to trust it. He'd been without a woman for a long time, and she'd satisfied him. If it was more than that, it would be everything she could ever want. But she was uncertain of him.

  He felt her hesitation, but he only smiled. He could have her, now. It would take time, but she'd given herself completely, without reservations. She was his. He felt the joy of it all the way to his soul. He drew her even closer with a triumphant laugh.

  "Is your back really all right?" she asked, trying not to react to his laughter because she was afraid that it was mockery.

  "My back is fine. I didn't damage it. I told you we could make love, if we went about it the right way." He drew back, his soft eyes searching his. "It was what I promised you, too." He drew a finger under her eyelids and it came away wet. "You cried from the pleasure."

  "Yes." She couldn't look away. Her body throbbed from the pleasure of such a tender encounter. She drew in an unsteady breath. "It wasnever like that."

  "I know." He looked down at her body, his own desire kindling again. He laughed with self-mockery. "My God. Even after that, it's still hungry."

  She smiled shyly. "It always was."

  "Not like this." He searched her eyes. "It isn't the same hunger. Before, it was for physical satisfaction alone."

  "And now?" she asked, her voice hesitant.

  He placed a hard thumb against her soft lips and caressed them. "Now," he said huskily, "it's for something that I don't think I can even express in words." He held her eyes. "I didn't pull away, at the last," he whispered. "I couldn't. I'm sorry. I meant what I said beforeI didn't deliberately plan to make you pregnant without giving you a choice."

  She hesitated. Her eyes lifted to his. "Cyif a baby comes from this; II"

  His heart began to pound. "You wouldn't mind, would you?"

  "No," she said breathlessly.

  "Neither would I," he replied just as breathlessly. His eyes were fierce and unblinking. "Because I've never been able to give myself completely before, even to you. But this was two halves joining to make a whole. This was everything physical love should be."

  She buried her face against his broad chest, her lips brushing through the thick, damp hair to his dark skin. "I thought it was only physical with you."

  "If you still think it, after what we just shared, I'll jump off the damned roof."

  She smiled against his skin. "You really do care, don't you?"

  His heart leapt under her mouth. "I care. It took long enough for you to realize it."

  "I'm not the only one. You never thought I was capable of it."

  "Now I do. You proved it to me when you sat up with me, night after night. I stayed alive because of you. Maybe I always have."

  She nuzzled closer. "I stayed alive because of you," she replied.

  "Marry me."

  She wanted to. More than anything. But there was still the matter of the proxies, of her takeover plans, of Don's treachery.

  "It's the corporation, isn't it?" he asked, irritated when she didn't agree immediately. He hated thinking her job meant more than he did. Well, he had the advantage now. He laid a heavy hand on her belly and moved back so that he could smile down at her. "All right, do what you have to, but make it quick. I don't want you walking down the aisle to me in maternity clothes."

  "It was just the once," she said, hesitating.

  T
he smile grew wider. "How long did it take you to get pregnant with Blake? If I'm counting right, it was the first time we made love."

  "I might be less fertile now," she muttered.

  "You might not be." He smoothed back her hair, and the smile faded. "You've got some hard choices to make. You can't live in Chicago while you're pregnant with your second child. I want you with me. I want to watch you grow big. I want to sleep beside you, and feel the baby kick. I want all the things I didn't have when you were carrying Blake."

  She sighed, because she wanted that, too. She smiled at him. "Give me a few weeks."

  He nodded. He was too close to risk losing her now. She loved him. He could afford to give her enough rope. If she wanted a fight for control of the company, she could have it. It wasn't too soon to show her that he was always going to have the upper hand in business, if nowhere else.

  She saw that grin and understood it. He thought she was going to be a pushover. But, then, he'd only seen her in action once. He had some lessons coming.

  It disturbed her to think of beating him, because he had the usual masculine pride and ego. But he was enough of a man not to feel overly threatened by her and to accept defeat gracefully if he had to.

  She couldn't give him the proxies, because Don was behind them. It was important to her to show her brother-in-law that she wasn't a figurehead, that she'd earned the position Henry had willed her. Her ego demanded it. Anger mingled with the need to come out on top. She'd trusted Don and he'd betrayed her. No way was he getting away with that!

  After she regained control of her division, she could retire gracefully and give Cy those children he wanted. Surely Harden Properties was big enough to allow her a job if she wanted it. But in the meantime she could have the luxury of enough time to watch Blake grow to young manhood, to raise the child she might be carrying. Business was well and good, if it was all you had. But a child was a precious trust. He deserved enough of his mother's time to give him a good start in life. Not that he didn't need his father. She was impressed with the way Cy reacted to Blake, with the time he spent with him. It was going to be a good life, now that she was finally sure of his feelings, secure in them. But she wasn't going to hand him everything on a platter.

  "I have to go," she whispered, reluctant to leave his arms.

  "Do you?" he asked drowsily. "Why?"

  "Because when Mr. Smith gets back from taking Blake to school, he might come along to check up on you, or your mother might decide to have a little chat with you."

  He tilted his head with a rueful smile. "I suppose that's inevitable, isn't it?"

  "You won't really mind, will you?" she asked gently, and he smiled. "Your mother isn't a bad woman. She had a lot of justification for her actions."

  "Is this really you, singing my mother's praises?" he asked with dry humor.

  "It really is. It's going to hurt her to have to tell you the truth, because she doesn't know I've already told you. You're doing the same thing to her that I tried to do to you. But I had reasons that you didn't know about. The same is true of Myrna."

  "I suppose so." He sighed, cradling her close. "Reality keeps getting in the way of my dreams."

  "Mine, too." She kissed his hard cheek and searched his eyes, awed by the open warmth in them, the softness. She leaned close and kissed him with breathless tenderness.

  He returned the soft pressure. "Dream of me tonight, when you go to sleep."

  "I wish I could sleep with you," she said.

  "Come to me when the rest of them have gone to bed," he whispered. "I'll love you again."

  She swallowed hard. "I can't. Darling, I can't. I won't put you at risk again. If anything happened to you now, I couldn't bear it."

  Her concern made him feel warm all over. He smiled wryly. "All right. I'll settle for stolen kisses and fantasy for a while."

  "Once you're completely well, I'll make you glad you waited," she promised.

  He whistled softly. "I don't know if I can handle all this excitement."

  She grinned. "Oh, you'll manage, I think."

  She got up and dressed in the track suit, with his quiet, hungry eyes on her. She tugged on her sneakers and took him his pajamas and robe. "Want me to help you into them?" she teased.

  "Only if you want me to help you back out of those," he returned with a slow smile. "Get out of here."

  "I get it. Now that you've had your wicked way with me, I'm persona non grata, is that it?" she murmured with mock anger.

  His eyes slid down her body and back up. "Never that," he said dryly. "Feed me. A man gets hungry when he has to exert so much energy, and all I had was coffee for breakfast."

  She laughed with pure delight. "Does he really? What do you want?"

  "Dr. Bryner said lots of protein makes better muscles." His eyes teased hers. "Bring me a steak. I have to get stronger fast."

  She flushed. "In that case, I'll see about a side of beef," she promised. "Now get some rest."

  "Want me to call Dr. Bryner and ask him if making love qualifies as part of my therapy?"

  "Better not," she mused, opening the door. "He might think you had evil intentions toward Mr. Smith."

  "Damn you !" He flung a pillow after her, laughing uproariously.

  She met Mr. Smith coming down the hall and had to stifle a grin at the thought of Cy making eyes at the burly ex-merca ladies' man if ever there was one.

  He raised both eyebrows. "Guerrilla warfare?"

  "Only a pillow fight," she said with a straight face.

  He grinned to himself as he went on to Cy's room. If they were able to laugh together, things were definitely on the mend.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  » ^ «

  Cy had promised that his back wasn't hurt, but the unfamiliar exercise had made it sore and brought back some of the pain. He could hide it from Meredith, but not from Mr. Smith.

  "You've been overexerting," the older man accused.

  "Maybe a little," Cy muttered without admitting anything.

  "From now on, think before you try doubling up on those exercises, will you?" Mr. Smith said firmly. With a wry smile, Cy agreed that he would try to slow down again.

  But when Mr. Smith happened to mention that Cy had suffered a minor setback, Meredith felt guilty. She avoided going in to see Cy, finding a legitimate excuse in business matters.

  Cy noticed, and it made him irritable. So did a phone call he made to his office early the next morning, to Brad Jordan, his executive vice president.

  "There are rumors that we're about to be taken over," Jordan reminded him. "Employees are going around in a panic, and someone's spreading tales that you aren't able to come back to work."

  Cy was furious. "And who the hell's spreading these rumors?" he demanded.

  "I don't know. I'm trying to find out. Proxies and stock are changing hands daily. I can't even keep up."

  "It's your job to keep up," Cy reminded him. "I'll be back next week, doctor or no doctor. You tell my staff that. And heads are going to roll if I find out that anybody is trying to undermine my business," he added with cold authority.

  Jordan laughed. "I'll do that little thing. Are you improving?"

  "Daily. The pain's almost gone except for a few twinges, and I'd run if these damned doctors would stand back and let me."

  "Kindly do what you're told," Jordan replied. "I don't relish having to have you carried in to the next board meeting in a body bag."

  Cy grimaced. "Well, I can still use a telephone. I'll work on some of those proxies myself. Maybe I can provoke Lawrence into throwing in with me if I promise him a new bull."

  "Bribery," came the dry reply.

  "Anything, if it works," Cy said with graveyard humor. "I can't lose to Tennison International now. Keep me posted."

  "That's my job. Get better."

  "I'm doing my best."

  Myrna went up to check on Cy minutes later and found him morose and depressed. "Something's wrong," she said.

  Cy
wouldn't answer her. He wasn't going to involve her in this fight. It was his baby. He lit a cigarette, the first he'd had since he'd been back home. "Get me an ashtray, please," he said curtly.

  She found one and put it on the table by his chair, making no comment about the bad habit, even though she hated it. She sat down on the chair opposite him, her hands folded primly in her lap.

  "I've been putting this off," she said at last, her eyes staring blankly toward the window. "I thought I was doing what was best for you, by biding the truth. I seem to have done quite a lot of that over the years." She smiled apologetically. "Sometimes it's hard to remember that the tiny little boy you used to rock late at night is a grown man who no longer needs protection. It will be that way for you, one day, with Blake."

  He was beginning to realize that. Discovering his own parenthood had made him less judgmental about his mother's actions. Even if he hadn't quite been able to put it into words. It was hard to talk to her, suddenly. He felt as if he didn't really know her at all.

  "I'm getting a crash course in fatherhood," he admitted. He studied her closely, watching her face go pale at the scrutiny. "You had something to tell me, you said."

  "It's aboutFrank," she began.

  He laughed shortly, pretending ignorance. "He had other sins on his conscience besides unfaithfulness?"

  "No. But I have." And then she began her story. Her son listened raptly for the next half hour as Myrna repeated what she had told Meredith.

  When his mother was finished, Cy drew in a sharp breath. "Why didn't you tell me this years ago?" he asked.

  She shrugged. "I had to learn that respectability is something you earn, not borrow from someone else," she said. "It was a long, hard, painful lesson. I'm sorry. I've cost you more than I can ever repay."

  "Did you love my father?" he asked.

  Her eyes went sad. "No. I'm sorry. I never did. But I loved you. As much as Meredith loves you, although in a more motherly way," she added with rare humor.

  He whistled softly through pursed lips. "That's a pretty powerful emotion."