Books By Diana Palmer

by Palmer, Diana

  His elbows caught his weight as he eased down on top of her, his long legs cradling hers in a silence tense with promise. His eyes dropped to her mouth.

  "This is as good a time as any for you to start getting used to me," he whispered. His hips shifted slowly, first to one side, then to the other. The faint movement aroused him and he tensed as the familiar heat shot through him like fire.

  Fay watched his face contort slightly even as she felt the changing contours of his body. Her lips parted on a held breath.

  "A hundred years or so ago, when I was young and hot-blooded, that was a frequent and worrying occurrence. These days," he mused, watching her flushed face, "it's more of a delightful surprise. I like the way my body reacts to you."

  "It doesn't...react to other women like this?" she asked, torn between embarrassment and curiosity.

  He shook his head. "Only to you, apparently. I must be getting old. Either that, or a diet of virginal shock is rejuvenating me."

  "It isn't shock. Well, not exactly," she faltered.

  "No?" He bent and gently parted her lips. One long, powerful leg began to ease its way between hers, parting them and spreading her skirt on the cool ground. He felt her gasp and lifted his head. "We don't have a lot of time for courtship," he breathed. "We need to get used to each other physically before we marry. It will make it easier."

  "I've never done this," she said nervously.

  "Not even this far?" he asked, surprised.

  She shook her head. "My parents were very strict. So were the relatives I used to stay with. They all said it was a sin to let a man do what he liked to a woman's body."

  "Perhaps in some respects it is," he replied qui­etly. "But you and I are going to be married. One day, I'm going to put my seed deep in your body and you're going to have my baby. That won't be a sin of any kind."

  The words, so carelessly spoken, had a very un-careless reaction on Fay. Her eyes went wide and watchful, and her face went scarlet.

  He felt her sudden tension, saw it in her face. "That excites you, does it?" he whispered huskily. His eyes fell to her breasts, and he watched the nipples go hard with quiet pride before he caught her shocked eyes again. "You have pretty breasts."

  The blush exploded and he chuckled. "I shouldn't tease you, Fay. Not about something so profound. But it's irresistible. As irresistible as...this."

  And as he spoke, he bent suddenly and put his open mouth over the hard tip of her breast.

  Chapter Seven

  Fay thought that if she died and flew into the sun she couldn't have felt any greater explosion of heat. The feel of Donavan's hot mouth on her body, even through the cloth, was incredible.

  She arched against him and made a sound, half gasp, half groan, while her nails bit into his hard shoulders.

  His teeth nipped her delicately, before his tongue began to swirl around the hard tip and make it un­bearably sensitive to the moist heat of his mouth.

  "Please," she whispered huskily. "Please, please please...!"

  He barely heard her through his own need. His fingers were quick and rough on her bodice, painful seconds passing before he managed to disarrange the hated fabric that kept her soft skin from his mouth. He found her with his lips and his hands simulta­neously, and she clung to him, no thought of protest in her whirling mind as she fed on the feverish tast­ing of his mouth, the hot sensuality of his hands on her body.

  "Don...avan!" she sobbed.

  He lifted his head abruptly and looked at her.

  "My God, you're beautiful, Fay," he said un­steadily. "The most beautiful creature unclothed that I've ever seen in my life!"

  "I want you," she said weakly.

  "I want you, too."

  "Here."

  He shook his head, fighting for sanity. He had to drag his eyes away from her body to meet her own. "No. Not now. We aren't married, little one."

  "It...doesn't matter!" she wept, her body racked with need.

  "Yes, it does." Gently he disengaged her hands and put her clothing to rights. When she was dressed again, he rolled onto his back and pulled her down into his arms. He held her while she cried, his voice soothing, his hands gentling her while the storm passed.

  "I'm a lucky man, Fay," he said when she was quiet again. "A very lucky man."

  "I think I'm the lucky one," she said breathlessly, clinging.

  He bent and kissed her, his silver eyes looking straight into hers while his lean hands framed her flushed face gently. "We're taking a big step to­gether," he said then, and looked solemn. "I hope for both our sakes, and Jeffs, that it's the right one."

  "It will be," she assured him. Somehow, she knew it. But it didn't escape her notice that he looked unconvinced.

  The next week went by in a pleasant haze. Fay spent every free moment with Donavan and Jeff, tak­ing just time enough to go shopping with Abby for her wedding gown. She chose an oyster-hued suit, which was sensible, because it would go with every­thing she had left in her wardrobe. She splurged on a hat, too, and a veil to drape over it. She worried about the amount of money she'd spent, because it was no longer possible to buy without looking at price tags. But Donavan only smiled when she men­tioned that, and told her that getting married certainly warranted a little splurging.

  The ceremony was held at the local church where Donavan was a member, and half the population of Jacobsville turned out for the occasion. Most every­one knew by now that Fay had lost everything, and even Donavan's cousin Bart was civil to him.

  Jeff stayed with the Ballengers while Donavan drove himself and his new bride all the way to San Antonio for their two-day honeymoon. They had supper on the paseo del rio, where lighted barges went past with mariachi bands and music filled the flower-scented air.

  "There can't be any place on earth more beautiful than this," she commented when she finished the last bite of her apple pie £ la mode and looked at her new husband with quiet possession.

  He cocked an eyebrow, very handsome in the pale gray suit he'd worn to be married in. He hadn't changed. Neither had she. She was still wearing her off-white suit, because they hadn't wanted to take the time to change earlier.

  "Aren't you disappointed that I couldn't offer you a week in Nice or St. Tropez?"

  She smiled and shook her head. "I'm very happy. I hope I can make you that way, too."

  His returning smile became slowly wicked. "Sup­pose I take you back to our room now? I want to see how many times I can make you blush before I show you what physical love is."

  Her heart beat faster. "All right," she whispered with barely contained excitement, and was unable to meet his eyes as he paid the bill and led her out into the sweetly scented night.

  "Are you afraid of it, Fay?" he asked in the ele­vator, where they were briefly alone.

  "A little, I think," she confessed with a nervous laugh. She looked up at him. "I don't want to dis­appoint you. I know you aren't innocent..."

  He smiled gently. "I've never been married, though," he reminded her. "Or had a virgin to ini­tiate." The smile faded. "I'll try not to hurt you too much."

  "Oh, I'm not worried about...that," she faltered.

  "Aren't you?" he mused knowingly as the ele­vator stopped.

  They entered the room and he locked the door be­hind them, but when her cold hand went toward the light switch, he caught it.

  "It will be easier for you in the dark," he whispered as he brought her gently close. "I don't want you to see me just yet."

  "Do you have warts?" She laughed, trying to make a joke of it.

  "No. You'll understand a lot better in the morn­ing. For now," he said, swinging her up in his arms as he started toward the bed, "let's enjoy each other."

  She'd never dreamed that she could lie quietly while a man took her clothes off, but she did. Don-avan made what could have been an ordeal into a breathless anticipation, kissing her between buttons and catches, stroking her body gently to relax her while he slowly and deftly removed every stitch she had
on. Then he pulled her against him, and she felt the faint abrasion of his suit while he began to kiss her.

  "You...you're still dressed," she whispered.

  He bit at her mouth with lazy delight. "I noticed. Open your mouth a little more. That's it." He kissed her very slowly and his hand smoothed down over her taut breasts, making her gasp, before it left a warm trail down her flat belly to the soft inside of her thighs. "Don't faint," he whispered as he touched her intimately for the first time and felt her tense. "Relax, Fay," he breathed at her lips as he trespassed beyond even her wildest and most erotic dreams. She cried out and he made a rough sound, deep in his throat. "My God, this isn't going to be the best night of your life. Listen, sweetheart, do you want to wait until you can see a doctor?" he asked, lifting his head. "I don't want to frighten you, but this barrier isn't going to be easily dispensed with. You know, don't you, that I'm going to have to break it before I can take you?"

  "Yes." She swallowed. "Will it hurt you, too, if you do?"

  "More than likely." He rolled onto his back and pulled her close, his body pulsating with its denied need while he fought his inclination to say to hell with it and go ahead. He needed her, but he didn't want to hurt her, to make intimacy something that would frighten and scar her.

  "I didn't know," she said hesitantly. "I've never had any female problems, and I didn't think I needed a prenuptial checkup..."

  He smoothed her long hair gently. "I'm not fuss­ing, am I?" he murmured.

  "I'll bet you feel like it," she said miserably. She laughed and then began to cry. "I've ruined every­thing!"

  "Don't be absurd." His arms tightened and he rolled over against her, his mouth warm and soft and slow as his hand moved down her body again. In­stead of probing, this time it touched, lightly, sen­sually. She gasped and instinctively caught his hand, but it was already too late. The pleasure caught her by surprise and for minutes that seemed never to end, she was oblivious to everything except her husband.

  A long time later, he got up, leaving her wide-eyed and more than a little shaken on the bed. He turned the lights on and looked at his handiwork, from the drowsy, sated green eyes to the pink luxury of her sprawled body. She was too fulfilled to even protest the intimacy now, and his expression was just faintly smug.

  "No need to ask if you liked it," he murmured unforgivably and began to take off his clothes.

  She watched him with visible pleasure. He had a stunning body, very powerful and darkly tanned, ex­cept for a pale band where she imagined his swim­ming trunks normally rested. He was lightly feath­ered all over with dark, curling hair, except for his chest and flat stomach, where it was thickest. He turned toward her and she caught her breath, unable to take her eyes off him. Even like this, he was any woman's dream. Especially like this.

  He knelt over her, his eyes glittering with unsatis­fied desire. "Now it's my turn," he whispered, eas­ing down beside her. "I want what I gave you."

  "Anything," she choked. "Teach me...!"

  His mouth covered hers, and lessons followed that banished her shyness, her fear, her inhibitions. When he cried out a second time and was still, she lay against him with drowsy pleasure and closed her eyes in satisfied sleep.

  They went back home the next morning. Donavan murmured dryly that he wasn't spending another night playing at sex when they could have the real thing after she saw the doctor. She did, first thing Monday morning, although the minor surgery was a little embarrassing. The doctor was pleased at Don­avan' s care, because, he added, it would have been an unpleasant experience for both of them if her new husband had been impatient. He sent her home with a smile and she dreamed for the three days it took for the discomfort to pass.

  It was going to be the most exciting night of Don­avan's life, Fay promised herself as she got every­thing ready. She'd already asked Abby to keep Jeff for that one evening, without telling her why, and Jeff had agreed with a murmured dry remark about newlyweds needing some privacy. Nobody knew that the marriage hadn't been consummated. But tonight it was going to be.

  Fay had a bottle of champagne chilling. She'd cooked a special meal and made a crepe dessert, things she'd had Abby show her how to do. Every­thing looked delicious. Even Fay, who was wearing one of the only sexy dresses she possessed, a little strappy black satin number that showed off her full breasts and her long, elegant legs in the nicest pos­sible way. She'd left her hair loose around her shoul­ders, the way Donavan liked it, and sprayed herself with perfume. He'd been exquisitely patient and car­ing for the past few nights, contenting himself with a few gentle kisses and the feel of her in his arms and nothing more. Tonight, she was going to make him glad he'd been so considerate.

  She heard his car pull up in the driveway, very impatiently, and heard the vicious slam of his door. Something must have upset him at work, she thought as she quickly lit the candles on the table. Well, she had the cure for that.

  She turned as he threw open the front door and came in. That was when she realized that what had upset him wasn't the job. He was staring at her with undisguised fury, his whole look accusing and vio­lent.

  "You didn't tell me you had a great-aunt who could buy and sell Miami Beach."

  She blinked and had to think hard. "You mean Great-Aunt Tessie," she faltered. "Well, yes, but..."

  His face hardened. His lean hand almost crushed the hat he'd just swept from his damp hair. "Your uncle Henry had a call a few minutes ago. He wanted me to break the news to you." He took a steadying breath. "Your great-aunt died last night. You inherit everything she owned, and that includes millions of dollars."

  He was white in the face. Now she knew why. She sat down heavily. "Tessie is dead? But I had a letter from her just last week. She was fine..."

  "You didn't tell me," he ground out. "Why?"

  She lifted her eyes. "I never thought of it. Hon­estly," she said dully. Tears stung her eyelids. She'd been very fond of Tessie. "I loved her. Her money never made any difference to me. I expected she'd leave it to charity. She knew I didn't need it."

  "Didn't, as in past tense." He nodded. "But now you're not a woman of property. Or are you?"

  "I can always refuse it," she began.

  "Don't bother. I assume you'll want to fly down there," he said shortly. "Your uncle will go with you. He said he'd make the travel arrangements and let you know later." He tugged at his tie, glaring at her.

  "It's not my fault," she said huskily, tears pouring down her cheeks.

  "Don't you think I know that?" he replied, his eyes cold and dark. "But it changes everything. I won't stay married to you. Not now."

  "What about Jeff?" she gasped. "The custody suit?"

  "I don't know..."

  He was uncharacteristically hesitant. She went closer to him. "We don't have to tell anyone," she said. "I'll swear Uncle Henry to secrecy. We can stay married long enough for you to get Jeff away from his stepfather. Then we can get a...a divorce."

  "Divorce?" he asked with a curt laugh. "An an­nulment." She flushed. "Had you forgotten, baby?" he asked mockingly. "We played at sex, but we never had it. Now it's just as well that we didn't. No harm done. You can find yourself some society boy in your own circle and get married again."

  "And you?"

  He shrugged indifferently and turned away before she could see his face. "I'll have Jeff."

  "You don't want me?"

  "What I want or don't want doesn't enter into it anymore," he said coolly, careful not to let her see his face. "The last thing I can afford is to have Ja-cobsville start gossiping about another Langley mar­rying for money, especially when I've got Jeffs fu­ture to think about."

  "Oh, I see."

  She did, painfully. Donavan would never want her with millions. He was a proud man. Much too proud to withstand the snide remarks and gossip. Even if he was less proud, there was Jeff. The boy shouldn't have to suffer for things he'd never done.

  "I'll...just phone Uncle Henry," she said, but Donavan didn't answer h
er. He went out and closed the door.

  The next morning, he drove her and her uncle to the airport and put them on a plane. The Ballengers had been very understanding about her absence from work for a couple of days, and Abby was glad to fill in for her under the circumstances. They all put down Fay's apathy to her fondness for her great-aunt, so it was just as well they didn't see her with Donavan. His fierce scowl might have changed their minds.

  "Thanks for driving us here," Henry said uncom­fortably. "Fay, I'll wait for you on the concourse."

  "Yes." She watched him go with dull eyes before she lifted her own to Donavan.

  "You haven't slept, have you?" he asked for­mally. And he had to ask, because he'd moved out of her bedroom the night before without a word.

  She shook her head. "I was fond of Great-Aunt Tessie. We were good friends."

  "I wasn't very sympathetic last night," he said stiffly. "I'm sorry..."

  Her chin lifted proudly. "I haven't asked for any­thing from you, have I, Donavan?" she asked with expression. "And I won't. I'll stay with you until the custody hearing. Then, as you suggested, we can get an annulment."

  "What will you do?" he asked.

  She only laughed. She felt a million years old.

  "What do you care?" she asked without looking at him. She picked up the case he'd been carrying for her. "I haven't told the Ballengers about what I'll inherit, and I hope you won't," she said over her shoulder. "Until I talk to her lawyers, nothing is re­ally certain."

  "Don't make some stupid decision about that money out of misplaced loyalty to me," he said coldly, forcing himself to smile as if he didn't give a damn about her. Letting her give up millions to live a modest life-style with him, out of nothing but desire, would be criminal. "I only married you to get Jeff. Maybe I wanted you, too," he added when she looked at him. "But bodies come cheap, honey. I've never gone hungry."

  Her face went, if possible, a shade paler. "It's nice to know that I'll be leaving you heart-whole and unencumbered. Goodbye, Donavan."