by Janet Dailey
"It's possible," he conceded dryly. "But if it gets too dull around here, I have the consolation of being able to sharpen my wits with you."
Why had she ever got involved in a conversation with him in the first place, Mara wondered angrily. He took malicious delight in laughing at her, finding something to poke cynical fun at no matter what she said or did. She turned away and began taking out her displeasure at the situation on the items in the grocery bag.
"I've had a long week, Mr. Buchanan. I'm too tired from taking care of Adam to engage in a battle of words with you," she issued tightly.
His astute gaze investigated her profile, noticing the strain etched in her features but unable to guess that he was the cause of most of it. Her eyes were large black smudges against the ivory cream of her complexion. The line of her finely drawn mouth was tense, her expression rigidly contained to be without emotion.
Sin walked to where the coffeepot was plugged in only a few feet from her. Opening the cupboard door above it, he took out two cups and set them on the counter.
"Why don't you take a break for a few minutes, Mara, and have a cup of coffee with me?" he suggested. "It's fresh and hot. The groceries can wait until later."
Resentment smoldered that he should suddenly begin using her given name and pretend a solicitous concern for her well-being. She flashed him an icy look as he filled the first cup with hot coffee.
"I have no desire to have coffee with you!" The sharpness of her retort flung his invitation back in his face.
The pot was set back on the counter as a heavy silence filled the air, charging the atmosphere. His steady blue gaze was on her, piercing the cool.
"Is it that you have no desire to have coffee with me…or simply that you have no desire?" His question was a low, accusing challenge.
Mara hesitated only an instant before answering coldly, "Both." She continued unpacking the bag her movements as brisk and rapid as she could make them without throwing things around.
"You shouldn't say things like that." Sin's voice changed subtly, an undefinable quality entering its low pitch. "It challenges a man to prove you're a liar."
"Which says something about the arrogance of men, doesn't it?" Mara countered with contempt.
"Or the trait of a woman to be provocative," he suggested smoothly.
"I wasn't lying when I said that." A loaf of bread was in her hand, and she paused before putting it away to turn and confront him. "And I wasn't trying to be provocative."
"Weren't you?" Sin was closer to her than she had realized. She started to take a breath to make a scathing reply to his taunt when his hand touched her neck.
His fingers began tracing the base of her throat, exploring its hollow, and all her muscles constricted. Mara could neither breathe in nor breathe out. Her heartbeat was erratic, speeding up, then slowing down as his fingertips lingered or moved over her sensitive skin. Her gaze was locked with his and she had the sensation of being drawn into the murky blue depths of his eyes.
"I'll bet ice cream doesn't melt in your mouth," Sin declared in a soft, taunting voice that somehow managed to caress.
The straight line of his mouth never varied. There wasn't a hint of a curve nor a smile. He seemed oddly detached, as if conducting some simple exercise that didn't require his concentration. His fingers began outlining the neckline of her madras blouse. At the point, they partially entered the shadowed valley of her breasts before encountering a button. Then they started their upward slant to the base of her throat.
"It doesn't melt." Her voice was choked to a husky level by the confusion of her senses. "I have to chew it up like food."
A crazy wild shaking started in her knees. No matter how she tried, she couldn't make it stop. Not as long as he was touching her, she realized. Initially she had submitted to the caress of his fingers to prove it didn't affect her. Now that she knew better, she had to bring this sudden intimacy to a close.
Fighting the threatening sensation of weakness, Mara reached up and pushed his hand from her neck. Immediately she took a step away and turned her back to him. The grip of her fingers had made indentations in the fresh loaf of bread she held.
"What's the matter?" Sin asked in a voice that said he knew.
"Nothing's the matter." Mara opened a cupboard door to put the bread away. She seemed to lack coordination. Her movements were jerky and out of time. "I'm simply not interested in sex for the sake of sex."
"Oh?" There was a curious, lazy lilt to the sound, a laid-back sort of quality. "When are you interested in sex?"
Instead of attacking him, her remark had tripped herself. It was a question she couldn't answer and she knew she didn't dare try.
"You've had too many celibate weekends recently," she told him. "Call Celene and have her visit you; then your ego can get fed on all her 'Sin, darlings.'"
He tipped back his head, amused laughter rolling from his throat at her sniping words. "That becomes old quickly, but I never find things growing dull with you. Each time I think l have you trapped in a corner, you come charging at me from another direction."
"I don't happen to be doing it for your amusement," she snapped.
"I'm aware of that." A trace of a smile lingered, but his look was totally serious. "It's a case of self-preservation. You don't want anybody getting too close."
"If you've got the message, why don't you leave me alone?" Mara challenged coldly.
But Sin completely ignored that. "You don't want anyone to be even physically close to you. You're a young, beautiful woman, a human being. That's a statement, not a compliment" he added. "Your body was designed with procreation as the plan. Having sex doesn't necessarily go hand in hand with love. So how do you suppress your biological urges?"
"I don't see that it's any of your business." With curtness, Mara tried to elude the topic that made her feel so uncomfortable.
Pushing the cupboard door shut on the bread, she reached into the bag for a new can of coffee. But when she lifted it out, Sin took it from her hand and set it on the counter, shoving it out of her reach.
"But I want to know," he persisted.
An arm braced against the counter prevented her from reaching the coffee can. When she attempted to ignore him and turn back to the rest of the grocery items in the bag, his other arm blocked her way.
"How do you ignore the restless yearnings for an unknown something?" he questioned.
To brace his hands against the counter, Sin was forced to bend slightly. The result was to bring his gaze eye level with hers. It seemed to probe and bore deep within her to seek out the answer she couldn't voice. There was almost more than a foot of space between them, but the width seemed much smaller. Mara pressed herself more closely against the counter until its edge was digging into the small of her back.
"What do you do about the aching hollow feeling that can gnaw at your insides?" There was less demand in his question. "Or the way your body throbs to hold someone close? Don't you ever long to be caressed?"
His low, murmured questions were seducing her, awakening all the needs and longings that she usually kept smothered. They were all surfacing with a new intensity. She hoped desperately that her mask of poise was in place and that this wonderful bewilderment was well hidden from him.
"And your lips—" his gaze sought their curve and a fluttering weakness, started in her stomach and began to spread "—haven't they ever imagined the pressure of another mouth on them?"
Mara shook her head in denial not of his question but of the wants it was causing. Her sleek short hair gleamed blue black in the artificial light of the kitchen, its waving style sophisticated and becoming.
"Only a saint wouldn't be expected to know the craving to have someone run his fingers through your hair," Sin murmured as he, too, became entrapped in the sensuous spell of his questions. His eyes were half-closed, a glow burning its way out of their depths.
"I am a saint," Mara whispered out of desperation. "Adam will tell you that."
&nbs
p; "No." Sin didn't believe her. "You're flesh and blood…the same way I am, but with a delightful difference."
He leaned closer, his head tipping naturally to one side as his mouth sought the curve of her lips. Her lashes swept closed, but they didn't shut out the image of him from her mind or lessen the potent virility that was his trademark.
The kiss began as a slow yet bold exploration of new territory. Gradually it began to demand more than passivity from Mara. She was to be a participant, not merely a recipient. After a tentative beginning she began to warm to the role. No longer was she pressing herself against the counter. All that space between them seemed unnecessary.
Her fingers trembled uncertainly against his bare chest until they began to enjoy the feel of his smooth, muscled flesh. The pressure of his mouth increased. The exploration was over and Sin was claiming the territory.
His hand curved itself across her back to draw her inside the circle of his arms. Mara felt the hard outline of his body pressed against hers, the heat from it burning through her clothes to her skin. Sin was no longer leaning forward, but standing at his full height. Her head was forced to tilt backward to receive his kiss.
She had the dizzying sensation that she was teetering on the brink of a discovery. She only had to let go to find out what it was. But she couldn't. With a moaning cry of regret and relief, she broke off the kiss and strained to be free of his embrace. Sin resisted her attempts for a fleeting second, then let her go.
Stepping away from him, she covered her mouth with her hand as if hiding the very nearly devastating effect of his kiss. Her breathing was rapid and shallow. She struggled to make it normal and quiet her pounding heart. Partially succeeding, she took her hand away from her face and lifted her chin in a defensive denial that anything had changed. To reaffirm it, she began unpacking the groceries again and putting them away. Sin watched her but she pretended she wasn't aware of it.
"What happened, Mara?" Sin asked quietly.
She presumed he was referring to the kiss and the suddenness with which she ended it. "Nothing happened," she denied with feigned aloofness.
"I don't buy that," he replied in a hard, decisive voice. "It had to take years to get all your feelings and emotions frozen that solidly. So what happened? Were you jilted? Did some guy leave you standing on the church steps?"
"No, to both questions." The coffee was put away and Mara began emptying the carton of eggs into the egg rack in the refrigerator.
"Did you take a lover, then discover he was married?" he persisted.
"No." Her control was fraying. "And if any of the answers were yes, I still would have told you no because it's none of your business!"
A muscle worked along his jaw as they confronted each other. "Is your father well enough to have visitors?"
The unexpected change of subject caught Mara by surprise. It took her a moment to make the adjustment before she could answer.
"Yes, I think so."
"Good," he nodded, and raked his fingers through his gray hair as if realizing for the first time it wasn't combed. "I'll finish getting dressed and walk back with you."
"What about your coffee?" It was the first protest that came to mind. "There's a full pot here."
"Unplug it, I’ve had all the stimulation I want for one morning without adding caffeine." His mouth quirked at the deliberately suggestive reminder of the kiss.
"It's cold outside. You'd be better off driving," Mara tried another tactic.
"I'm getting used to the chill in the air up here."
"Really? So has Adam," she informed him with a cool look. "He says it's a case of becoming acclimatized to the perpetual draft of cold air whenever I'm around."
"Your father and I share something in common, then, don't we?" Sin gave her a sardonic glance and turned away.
As he disappeared into the bedroom, Mara called after him, "If you aren't ready by the time I'm finished here, I'm leaving without you."
There was no response to her warning and she hurried to make it come true. She had her coat on and was halfway to the front door when Sin joined her.
"I told you I wouldn't wait for you," she reminded him. Before he could accuse her of fleeing, she added in defense. "I left Adam alone in the house. I don't want to be away any longer than necessary."
"That's understandable." His hooded look seemed willing to give her the benefit of doubt.
When Sin opened the front door, Mara was careful not to accidentally brush against him as she went by. The slight flare of his nostrils indicated that he had noticed her caution. He stopped to lock the door behind them and Mara started toward the back trail.
"Not so fast!" Sin called, a thread of impatience in his voice.
"I told you I wasn't going to wait." She didn't check her stride.
After she had taken two more steps, a hand clamped down on her elbow, the thick padding of her parka sleeve lessening its tight grip, and she was hauled around to face him. Her attempt to twist away was thwarted by the hand that seized her other arm. Mara wasn't going to stoop to the indignity of struggling against his superior strength. She stood silently in his hold, glaring up at him.
His features had become hardened with anger, his eyes metallic chips of cold steel. Her heavy parka didn't lessen the impression the unyielding muscles of his thighs were making against hers, nor insulate her from the warmth of his body heat.
"What's the matter with you, Mara?" Sin demanded, his tone harsh and impatient. "I assure you I have no intention of dragging you off in the woods somewhere and raping you, if that's what's frightening you."
"Truthfully, it never occurred to me that you might be that desperate!" she spat out.
He seemed to release much of his anger in an impatiently sighed breath. "Then why do I get the feeling you're running from me?" He released her elbow and started to slide his fingers through her sleek black hair.
Mara had not recovered sufficiently from his previous caresses to withstand another. She twisted her head away from his hand in rejection of his touch.
"Let me go and leave me alone!" The instant the demand was out, she was angry. "Damn," she swore softly. "Why do you always make me sound like some Victorian virgin?" Resentment flashed in the look she sent him.
Sin did as he was asked and took a step away from her, a certain grimness to his mouth. "I wouldn't worry. You're neither meek nor mild, two essential ingredients to be classified, as belonging to the Victorian era."
Hiding her clenched fists in the pocket of her jacket, Mara started again toward the trail. "I don't know where my place is, but it isn't under any man," she declared, fighting the shaky feeling inside her.
"Literally or figuratively, is that it?" Sin taunted.
"That's it." The flat statement seemed to echo laughingly in her ears.
Mara set a brisk pace, as if trying to escape whatever was pursuing her. Sin easily kept stride with her, his long legs capable of outdistancing her if he chose. But they walked without talking.
Entering the brick house through the rear door, Mara paused to hang up her coat on the empty hook by the door. She flicked a glance in Sin's direction that didn't quite reach his face. It stopped somewhere between the second and third button of his jacket.
"Why don't you take off your coat and hang it on the rack while I see if Adam is awake?" Her voice was stilted and brittle after the long silent walk.
"Thank you, I will."
Her peripheral vision caught his movement as he started to unbutton his coat, but she was already walking toward the swinging door that led to the rest of the house. Her father's bedroom was on the ground floor. When she entered his room, his eyes were closed. She was half-afraid he was asleep. Uncertain whether to wake him or let him rest, she walked to his bed.
He opened his eyes and smiled wanly. "You're back."
"Yes, how are you feeling?" Her gaze inspected his face. She thought his color had improved considerably.
"Hungry," Adam said to confirm her silent assessm
ent.
"I'll fix you some broth. By the way, you have a visitor," she added, her lips curving into a stiff smile.
"A visitor?" he frowned. "Who—Hello, Sin." He was looking beyond her to the door. "What are you doing here? Or have I lost a day?"
"You didn't lose a day. I decided at the last minute to come up a day early," Sin explained.
"I'm glad you did. Come in and sit down—not too close, though. I don't want you catching this cold," Adam laughed in warning. He glanced at his daughter as Sin sat in a straight-backed chair near the foot of the bed. "Mara was just going to bring me a cup of broth. Would like something? Coffee? Tea?"
"No, thank you," Sin refused, and didn't even glance toward Mara as she left the room.
It was a relief to have her hands and mind occupied with fixing the broth, even if it was a simple task. Unfortunately it was too quickly accomplished. She turned off the heat under the pan and poured the broth into a mug.
Her reappearance in the bedroom brought a momentary lull in their conversation. She cranked Adam's bed up so he was seated more upright and positioned the lap table in front of him.
As she walked over to get the cup of broth from where she had left it on a side table, Sin began speaking to her father. "I'd thought I would enlist your expert services this weekend to take me on a tour of the battlefield."
"Now, I would enjoy that," Adam replied.
"You probably would." Mara set his broth on the table in front of him. "But you can't do it this weekend."
"I feel fine." He dismissed her assertion with a positive nod.
"Mara's right." The agreement came unexpectedly from Sin. "It wouldn't be wise for you to be out, as cold as it is. There's no need to risk a relapse."
"You're outnumbered two to one, Adam." Mara adjusted the pillow behind his head to give him more support.
"I may be," Adam conceded, "but I hate to think that Sin is going to miss out on the tour. He's in the mood now. Who knows when he will be again?" he jested. "I've got the solution!" he declared, glancing from Sin to Mara with a bright gleam in his eyes. "Mara knows almost as much as I do about the Gettysburg battle. She can take you this weekend."