As the music finally wound down, Matt drew her in close against his lean frame and tilted her down in an elegant, but painful, finish.
The applause was thunderous. Matt drew Leslie upright again and noticed how pale and drawn her face was.
"Too much too soon," he murmured. "Come on. Off you go."
He didn't move closer. Instead, he held out his arm and let her come to him, let her catch hold of it where the muscle was thickest. She clung with both hands, hating herself for doing something so incredibly stupid. But, oh, it had been fun! It was worth the pain.
She didn't realize she'd spoken aloud until Matt eased her down into her chair again.
"Do you have any aspirin in that tiny thing?" Matt asked, indicating the small string purse on her arm.
She grimaced.
"Of course not." He turned, scanning the audience. "Back in a jiffy."
He moved off in the general direction of the punch bowl while Ed caught Leslie's hand in his. "That was great," he enthused. "Just great! I didn't know you could dance like that."
"Neither did I," she murmured shyly.
"Quite an exhibition," Carolyn agreed coolly. "But silly to do something so obviously painful. Now Matt will spend the rest of the night blaming himself and trying to find aspirin, I suppose." She got up and marched off with her barely touched plate and Matt's empty one.
"Well, she's in a snit," Ed observed. "She can't dance like that."
"I shouldn't have done it," Leslie murmured. "But it was so much fun, Ed! I felt alive, really alive!"
"You looked it. Nice to see your eyes light up again."
She made a face at him. "I've spoiled Carolyn's evening."
"Fair trade," he murmured dryly, "she spoiled mine the minute she got into the limousine and complained that I smelled like a sweets shop."
"You smell very nice," she replied.
He smiled. "Thanks."
Matt was suddenly coming back toward them, with Lou Coltrain by the arm. It looked as if she were being forcibly escorted across the floor and Ed had to hide the grin he couldn't help.
"Well," Lou huffed, staring at Matt before she lowered her gaze to Leslie. “I thought you were dying, considering the way he appropriated me and dragged me over here!"
"I don't have any aspirin," Leslie said uneasily. "I'm sorry..."
"There's nothing to be sorry about," Lou said instantly. She patted Leslie's hand gently. "But you've had some pretty bad bruising and this isn't the sort of exercise I'd recommend. Shattered bones are never as strong, even when they're set properly—and yours were not."
Embarrassed, Leslie bit her lower lip.
"You'll be okay," Lou promised with a gentle smile. "In fact, exercise is good for the muscles that support that bone—it makes it stronger. But don't do this again for a couple of weeks, at least. Here. I always carry aspirin!"
She handed Leslie a small metal container of aspirin and Matt produced another cup of soda water and stood over her, unsmiling, while she took two of the aspirins and swallowed them.
"Thanks," she told Lou. "I really appreciate it."
"You come and see me Monday," Lou instructed, her dark eyes full of authority. "I'll write you a prescription for something that will make your life easier. Not narcotics," she added with a smile. "Anti-inflammatories. They'll make a big difference in the way you get around."
"You're a nice doctor," she told Lou solemnly.
Lou's eyes narrowed. "I gather that you've known some who weren't."
"One, at least," she said in a cold tone. She smiled at Lou. "You've changed my mind about doctors."
"That's one point for me. I'll rush right over and tell Copper," she added, smiling as she caught her redheaded husband's eyes across the room. "He'll be impressed!"
"Not much impresses the other Doctor Col train," Matt told her after Lou was out of earshot. "Lou did."
"Not until he knew she had a whole closetful of Lionel electric trains," Ed commented with a chuckle.
'Their son has a lot to look forward to when he grows up," Matt mused. He glanced beside Leslie. "Where's Carolyn?"
"She left in a huff," Ed said.
"I'll go find her. Sure you'll be okay?" he asked Leslie with quiet concern.
She nodded. "Thanks for the aspirin. They really help."
He nodded. His dark eyes slid over her drawn face and then away as he went in search of his date.
"I've spoiled his evening, too, I guess," she said wistfully.
"You can't take credit for that," Ed told her. "I've hardly ever seen Matt having so much fun as he was when he was dancing with you. Most of the women around here can only do a two-step. You're a miracle on the dance floor."
"I love to dance," she sighed. "I always did. Mama was so light on her feet." Her eyes twinkled with fond memories. "I used to love to watch her when I was little and she danced with Daddy. She was so pretty, so full of life." The light went out of her eyes. "She thought I'd encouraged Mike, and the others, too," she said dully. "She...shot him and the bullet went through him, into my leg..."
"So that's how your leg got in that shape."
She glanced at him, hardly aware of what she'd been saying. She nodded. "The doctor in the emergency room was sure it was all my fault. That's why my leg wasn't properly set. He removed the bullet and not much else. It wasn't until afterward that another doctor put a cast on. Later, I began to limp. But there was no money for any other doctor visits by then. Mama was in jail and I was all alone. If it hadn't been for my best friend Jessica's family, I wouldn't even have had a home. They took me in despite the gossip and I got to finish school."
"I'll never know how you managed that," Ed said. "Going to school every day with the trial making headlines week by week."
"It was tough," she agreed. "But it made me tough, too. Fire tempers steel, don't they say? I'm tempered."
"Yes, you are."
She smiled at him. "Thanks for bringing me. It was wonderful."
"Tell Matt that. It might change him."
"Oh, he's not so bad, I think," she replied. "He dances like an angel."
He stared toward the punch bowl, where Matt was glancing toward him and Leslie. The dark face was harder than stone and Ed felt a tingle of apprehension when Matt left Carolyn and started walking toward them. He didn't like that easygoing stride of Matt's. The only time Matt moved that slowly was when he was homicidally angry.
Chapter Four
Leslie knew by the look in Matt's eyes that he was furious. She thought his anger must be directed toward her, although she couldn't remember anything she'd done to deserve it. As he approached them, he had his cellular phone out and was pushing a number into it. He said something, then closed it and put it back in his pocket.
“I’m sorry, but we have to leave," he said, every syllable dripping ice. "It seems that Carolyn has developed a vicious headache."
"It's all right," Leslie said, and even smiled as relief swept over her that she hadn't put that expression on his handsome face. "I wouldn't have been able to dance again." Her eyes met Matt's shyly. "I really enjoyed it."
He didn't reply. His eyes were narrow and not very friendly. “Ed, will you go out front and watch for the car? I've just phoned the driver."
"Sure." He hesitated noticeably for a moment before he left.
Matt stood looking down at Leslie with an intensity that made her uncomfortable. "You make yourself out to be a broken stick," he said quietly. "But you're not what you appear to be, are you? I get the feeling that you used to be quite a dancer before that leg slowed you down."
She was puzzled. "I learned how from my mother," she said honestly. "I used to dance with her."
He laughed curtly. "Pull the other one," he said. He was thinking about her pretended revulsion, the way she constantly backed off when he came near her. Then, tonight, the carefully planned capitulation. It was an old trick that had been used on him before—backing away so that he'd give
chase. He was surprised that he hadn't realized it sooner. He wondered how far she'd let him go. He was going to find out.
She blinked and frowned. "I beg your pardon?" she asked, genuinely puzzled.
"Never mind," he said with a parody of a smile. "Ed should be outside with the driver by now. Shall we go?"
He reached out a lean hand and pulled her to her feet abruptly. Her face was very pale at the hint of domination not only in his eyes, but the hold he had on her. It was hard not to panic. It reminded her of another man who had used domination; only that time she had no knowledge of how to get away. Now she did. She turned her arm quickly and pushed it down against his thumb, the weakest spot in his hold, freeing herself instantly as the self-defense instructor had taught her.
Matt was surprised. "Where did you learn that? From your mother?" he drawled.
"No. From my Tae Kwon Do instructor in Houston," she returned. "Despite my bad leg, I can take care of myself."
"Oh, I'd bet on that." His dark eyes narrowed and glittered faintly. "You're not what you seem, Miss Murry. I'm going to make it my business to find out the truth about you."
She blanched. She didn't want him digging into her past. She'd run from it, hidden from it, for years. Would she have to run some more, just when she felt secure?
He saw her frightened expression and felt even more certain that he'd almost been taken for the ride of his life. Hadn't his experience with women taught him how to recognize deceit? He thought of his mother and his heart went cold. Leslie even had a look of her, with that blond hair. He took her by the upper arm and pulled her along with him, noticing that she moved uncomfortably and tugged at his hold.
"Please," she said tightly. "Slow down. It hurts."
He stopped at once, realizing that he was forcing her to a pace that made walking painful. He'd forgotten about her disability, as if it were part of her act. He let out an angry breath.
"The damaged leg is real," he said, almost to himself. "But what else is?"
She met his angry eyes. "Mr. Caldwell, whatever I am, I'm no threat to you," she said quietly. "I really don't like being touched, but I enjoyed dancing with you. I haven't danced...in years."
He studied her wan face, oblivious to the music of the band, and the murmur of movement around them. "Sometimes," he murmured, "you seem very familiar to me, as if I've seen you before." He was thinking about his mother, and how she'd betrayed him and hurt him all those years ago.
Leslie didn't know that, though. Her teeth clenched as she tried not to let her fear show. Probably he had seen her before, just like the whole country had, her face in the tabloid papers as it had appeared the night they took her out of her mother's bloodstained apartment on a stretcher, her leg bleeding profusely, her sobs audible. But then her hair had been dark, and she'd been wearing glasses. Could he really recognize her?
"Maybe I just have that kind of face." She grimaced and shifted her weight. "Could we go, please?" she asked on a moan. "My leg really is killing me."
He didn't move for an instant. Then he bent suddenly and lifted her in his strong arms and carried her through the amused crowd toward the door.
"Mr....Mr. Caldwell," she protested, stiffening. She'd never been picked up and carried by a man in her entire life. She studied his strong profile with fascinated curiosity, too entranced to feel the usual fear. Having danced with him, she was able to accept his physical closeness. He felt very strong and he smelled of some spicy, very exotic cologne. She had the oddest urge to touch his wavy black hair just over his broad forehead, where it looked thickest.
He glanced down into her fascinated eyes and one of his dark eyebrows rose in a silent question.
"You're...very strong, aren't you?" she asked hesitantly.
The tone of her voice touched something deep inside him. He searched her eyes and the tension was suddenly thick as his gaze fell to her soft bow of a mouth and lingered there, even as his pace slowed slightly.
Her hand clutched the lapel of his tuxedo as her own gaze fell to his mouth. She'd never wanted to be kissed like this before. When she'd been kissed during that horrible encounter, it had been repulsive—a wet, invading, lustful kiss that made her want to throw up.
It wouldn't be like that with Matt. She knew instinctively that he was well versed in the art of love-making, and that he would be gentle with a woman.
His mouth was sensual, wide and chiseled. Her own mouth tingled as she wondered visibly what it would feel like to let him kiss her.
He read that curiosity with pinpoint accuracy and his sharp intake of breath brought her curious eyes up to meet his.
"Careful," he cautioned, his voice deeper than usual. "Curiosity killed the cat."
Her eyes asked a question she couldn't form with her lips.
"You fell off a horse avoiding any contact with me," he reminded her quietly. "Now you look as if you'd do anything to have my mouth on yours. Why?"
"I don't know," she whispered, her hand contracting on the lapel of his jacket. "I like being close to you," she confessed, surprised. "It's funny. I haven't wanted to be close to a man like this before."
He stopped dead in his tracks. There was a faint vibration in the hard arms holding her. His eyes lanced into hers. His breath became audible. The arm under her back contracted, bringing her breasts hard against him as he stood there on the steps of the building, totally oblivious to everything except the ache that was consuming him.
Leslie's body shivered with its first real taste of desire. She laughed shakily at the new and wonderful sensations she was feeling. Her breasts felt suddenly heavy. They ached.
"Is this what it feels like?" she murmured.
"What?" he asked huskily.
She met his gaze. "Desire."
He actually shuddered. His arms contracted. His lips parted as he looked at her mouth and knew that he couldn't help taking it. She smelled of roses, like the tiny pink fairy roses that grew in masses around the front door of his ranch house. She wanted him. His head began to spin. He bent his dark head and bit at her lower lip with a sensuous whisper.
"Open your mouth, Leslie," he whispered, and his hard mouth suddenly went down insistently on hers.
But before he could even savor the feel of her soft lips, the sound of high heels approaching jerked his head up. Leslie was trembling against him, shocked and a little frightened, and completely entranced by the unexpected contact with his beautiful mouth.
Matt's dark eyes blazed down into hers. "No more games. I'm taking you home with me," he said huskily.
She started to speak, to protest, when Carolyn came striding angrily out the door.
"Does she have to be carried?" the older woman asked Matt with dripping sarcasm. "Funny, she was dancing eagerly enough a few minutes ago!"
"She has a bad leg," Matt said, regaining his control. "Here's the car."
The limousine drew up at the curb and Ed got out, frowning when he saw Leslie in Matt's arms.
"Are you all right?" he asked as he approached them.
"She shouldn't have danced," Matt said stiffly as he moved the rest of the way down the steps to deposit her inside the car on the leather-covered seat. "She made her leg worse."
Carolyn was livid. She slid in and moved to the other side of Leslie with a gaze that could have curdled milk. "One dance and we have to leave," she said furiously.
Matt moved into the car beside Ed and slammed the door. "I thought we were leaving because you had a headache," he snapped at Carolyn, his usual control quite evidently gone. He was in a foul mood. Desire was frustrating him. He glanced at Leslie and thought how good she was at manipulation. She had him almost doubled over with need. She was probably laughing her head off silently. Well, she was going to pay for that.
Carolyn, watching his eyes on Leslie, made an angry sound in her throat and stared out the window.
To Ed's surprise and dismay, they dropped him off at his home first. He tried to argue, but M
att wasn't having that. He told Ed he'd see him at the office Monday and closed the door on his protests.
Carolyn was deposited next. Matt walked her to her door, but he moved back before she could claim a good-night kiss. The way she slammed her door was audible even inside the closed limousine.
Leslie bit her lower lip as Matt climbed back into the car with her. In the lighted interior, she could see the expression on his face as he studied her slender body covetously.
"This isn't the way to my apartment," she ventured nervously a few minutes later, hoping he hadn't meant what he said just before they got into the limousine.
"No, it isn't, is it?" he replied dangerously.
Even as he spoke, the limousine pulled up at the door to his ranch house. He helped Leslie out and spoke briefly to the driver before dismissing him. Then he swung a frightened Leslie up into his arms and carried her toward the front door.
"Mr. Caldwell..." she began.
"Matt," he corrected, not looking at her.
"I want to go home," she tried again.
"You will. Eventually."
"But you sent the car away."
"I have six cars," he informed her as he shifted his light burden to produce his keys from the pocket of his slacks and insert one in the lock. The door swung open. "I'll drive you home when the time comes."
"I'm very tired." Her voice sounded breathless and high-pitched.
"Then I know just the place for you." He closed the door and carried her down a long, dimly lit hallway to a room near the back of the house. He leaned down to open the door and once they were through it, he kicked it shut with his foot.
Seconds later, Leslie was in the middle of a huge king-size bed, sprawled on the beige-brown-and-black comforter that covered it and Matt was removing her wrap.
It went flying onto a chair, along with his jacket and tie. He unbuttoned his shirt and slid down onto the bed beside her, his hands on either side of her face as he poised just above her.
The position brought back terrible, nightmarish memories. She stiffened all over. Her face went pale. Her eyes dilated so much that the gray of them was eclipsed by black.
Books By Diana Palmer Page 231