Snowbound Weekend & Gambler's Love

by Amii Lorin

  Chris met her at the door with a frown and a wailed "Did I screw things up again?"

  "What do you mean?" Jen asked blankly, her thoughts still on her rush to escape.

  "Roger is picking me up." Chris bit her lip. "I thought you said you'd meet us at the club."

  At that moment Jen blessed Chris's absentmindedness and her penchant for "screwing things up."

  "That's okay." She managed to produce a careless laugh. "I'll follow you and Roger, no major problem."

  By the time they arrived at the night spot hangout, Jen had herself under control—at least on the surface. The others were already there and had pushed several tables together to accommodate the group that totaled ten.

  Friday night—and the atmosphere was pure party, not only at their table but throughout the large room. The throbbing beat of the loud music, combined with the equally loud conversation and laughter, made thinking an impossibility for which Jen was grateful.

  Laughing, joking, drinking, Jen threw herself into the spirit of revelry with a frenzy of desperation—although her drinking was limited. She had gulped down a glass and a half of gin and tonic when Roger literally dragged her onto the dance floor.

  The colored, diffused lighting that bounced over and around the dance floor blended perfectly with the blare of rock music. What Roger lacked in expertise he more than made up for in enthusiasm. When, at the end of the forth energetic number, Jen laughingly cried "Uncle," her already clingy jumpsuit was plastered to her perspiration-wet body in spots, and her face glowed with a moist sheen.

  Still laughing as they walked off the dance floor, Jen lifted her head to glance around the room and felt her body go stiff with shock. Adam was standing with his back to the bar, his eyes fastened on her. The moment she saw him, he pushed himself lazily away from the bar and started slowly toward her.

  Her first thought was to run, followed immediately by, where to? Adam's expression, hard with grim determination, brought her faltering steps to a halt. Forcing a semblance of lightness to her tone, she said, "Go ahead, Roger, I see someone I know," just as the lights dimmed and the strains of a ballad filled the room. All her senses centered on the man approaching her, Jen didn't even hear Roger's reply or see him move away.

  When he reached her he slid his arms around her waist and without saying a word drew her into the midst of the slowly moving couples. Without a thought, Jen's arms moved to circle his neck, and she felt a hot shaft of excitement as his arms tightened.

  "Jennifer."

  The familiar, longed for, whispered caress robbed her of all rational thought. Without even a pretense of dancing, Adam held her tightly against his hard body, swaying gently in time with the music. He didn't speak, but then he didn't have to; his body spoke volumes. And her body answered: yes, yes, yes.

  One slow song followed another, all unheard by Jen. The darting colored lights that signaled the return to upbeat music pierced the mist of sensuousness clouding Jen's reason. Pulling away from him in disgust, she made a zigzag dash off the dance floor, half afraid he'd follow her, half afraid he wouldn't. He didn't, and Jen was back at the table several minutes before she found the courage to look around for him.

  He was gone! Her eyes wide with disbelief, Jen made a second, slower search of the room even though she knew she would not have missed him on the first circuit. He simply was not there. Like a phantom conjured up by her imagination, he had disappeared. Fighting an eerie feeling of unreality, she gripped her glass with trembling fingers, unaware and unconcerned with the bantering chatter of her friends..

  Other than to whisper her name, he had not spoken, had made no attempt to get her alone. Her face grew warm with anger and humiliation at the memory of how effortlessly he'd drawn a physical response from her. But why the disappearing act?

  "Jen, are you feeling all right?"

  Chris's sharp tone penetrated Jen's self-absorption before she could formulate an answer to her own silent question.

  "Yes, of course." Jen smiled shakily. "But I'm suddenly very tired." It was true; she suddenly did feel very, very tired. "I think I'll go home to bed—it's been a long day."

  The instant response of every male in the group to go with her was almost Jen's undoing. Swallowing painfully against the constricting tightness in her throat, she shook her head in rejection of their offers while choking out a none-too-articulate "Thank you."

  Emerging from the building,. Jen shuddered and hunched her shoulders against the sting of the cold night air on her overheated body. Clutching her upturned collar under her chin, she hurried to the protection of her car.

  Her mind scurried from one inane, unrelated thought to another all the way home in a desperate but vain attempt to avoid thinking of Adam. Under all the surface thoughts unanswerable questions hammered away relentlessly. How had he known where she'd be? Why had he disappeared as soon as they'd left the dance floor? Why had he remained silent when only a few hours earlier he'd insisted she listen to him? Where had he gone? And—damn him— what kind of game was he playing anyway?

  By the time she turned onto the driveway and parked in front of the garage, she was too tired to notice the car parked along the curb in front of her home. As she stepped onto the macadam, the motion of the passenger door swinging open caught her attention. At the same instant she recognized the gold Formula, she heard Adam's softly voiced order. "Come get in the car, Jennifer."

  For one brief moment Jen considered ignoring him and making a dash for the front door. In the very next moment she dismissed the idea, certain he'd simply lie on the doorbell until she admitted him. The lone light left on in the living room gave evidence that her parents were in bed, and Jen did not want them disturbed. She didn't want to answer a lot of questions about Adam either.

  Moving with obvious reluctance, she covered the ground to his car. "What do you want?" she whispered harshly.

  "Get in the car," Adam repeated patiently.

  "No."

  "Why not?" he asked, still very patiently.

  "I don't want to hear whatever it is you have to say." Jen heard his sharply indrawn breath and went on, "I don't trust you, Adam."

  Adam was quiet for long seconds, then, in a very even, very quiet tone promised, "If you don't get in the ear-now—I will get out and put you in."

  Deciding to be prudent, Jen slid onto the seat next to him, letting her anger show by slamming the door shut. Eyes blazing, voice frigid, she faced him squarely.

  "All right, Adam, say your little piece—if you must."

  "I don't think so."

  "What?" Jen frowned at his flat, uncompromising tone.

  "You may get out of the car, Jennifer." His tone was still flat, but carried an inflection that tugged at Jen's memory. What was it? Unable to grasp the elusive memory, Jen shook her head.

  "But—then why—"

  "Why waste my time—and yours?"

  The inflection was stronger now, and suddenly Jen was back in the motel, hearing him say "Are you still mad at me?" in the same somewhat sad tone. At that time she had hurt Liz with her hasty condemnation. Was Adam hurt? Was it possible she had misjudged his actions? Had she, again, been too hasty? Hasty? After all his words of condemnation of her? Again Jen shook her head.

  "Are you going to get out?" Adam's quiet voice ended her introspection. Glancing at him, Jen was struck by an odd, waiting stillness about him. Waiting for what? Jen wondered confusedly.

  "Adam, I— What are you doing?"

  What he was doing was sliding his hand around her neck as he leaned across the console dividing the seats. Bending his head, he muttered, "You should have got out while you had the chance." His lips brushed the skin in front of her ear. Although the touch was feather-light, Jen could not repress the shiver that rippled through her, or the half gasp, half moan that whispered through her lips.

  "Or didn't you really want to get out?" Adam's breath tickled her face as his lips moved from her ear to the corner of her mouth.

  "Yes—no—I�
��ooh!"

  Adam's mouth slid over her parted lips, silencing her vain attempt to answer him. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the wildfire that spread through her veins and sent her mind whirling. He was here. He was now. And everything else was, for the moment, forgotten in her body's clamoring response.

  "Jennifer, Jennifer."

  First against her lips, then against her cheek—over and over again—her name was whispered huskily as his lips explored her face. The overpowering need to touch him drove her hands to his head, sent her fingers spearing through the toast-brown strands. His hand at the back of her head urged her closer, closer.

  "God, I've missed you." His tongue skipped along the edge of her ear. "Missed this," he groaned, trailing that tip of fire to her lips. "I want to touch you, kiss you, all over. Wet my lips for me, darling." The urgent whisper was followed by his hand cupping her breast.

  An alarm went off in Jen's head, restoring reason and cooling her overheated senses. Turning her face away from the temptation of his mouth, his words, Jen cried, "Adam, don't!"

  Long fingers gripped convulsively, painfully, at her breast an instant before the hand was lifted to grasp her chin. Lifting his head, he tersely ordered, "Look at me, Jennifer." Without waiting for her to comply he forced her to face him.

  "What do you mean—'Adam, don't'?" he asked harshly. "Adam, don't at all, or not here?"

  "Not—not at all." Why did her voice lack conviction? Why now? Jen groaned silently. Now, when she had to make it clear to him that she would not allow him to use her again. Letting her hands drop into her lap, she clasped them together, drew a quick, strengthening breath and added, "I told you earlier that I'm not interested in being a part-time playmate. And even if you think it's funny, I mean it."

  "Oh, you're wrong, I don't think it's funny at all." Leaning back, he pinned her with a challenging stare. "How about being a full-time playmate?"

  "What—exactly—do you mean?" Jen asked warily.

  "I can't keep my hands off you and you know it." That strangely sad smile touched his lips fleetingly. "And, although you'll probably deny it, you can't keep your hands off me, either. There's only one thing for us—isn't there?"

  Jen was almost afraid to ask, yet of course she had to.

  "And that is?"

  "Marriage."

  Open-mouthed, wide-eyed, Jen sat staring at him, too stunned to speak. When, finally, she did find her voice, all she could manage was a croaked "Marriage?"

  "Do you have a better solution?" he asked imperturbably.

  "But we don't even know each other. We—" She was going to add that they had nothing in common, but Adam's roar of laughter drowned her surprised protest.

  "Don't know each other?" Still laughing, he shook his head in disbelief. "Jennifer, we know every inch of each other."

  "I don't mean that way." Stung, Jen flung the words at him.

  "In case you don't know, that way is the most important way," he retorted. Grasping her shoulders, he gave her a gentle shake. "We have all the time in the world to explore each other's personalities, innocent one. And, personally, I'd prefer to do it in bed." Pulling her to him, he kissed her hungrily. "I think we'd better get married, angel. Very soon."

  "H—How soon?" Jen whispered around the tightness in her throat.

  "Next week?"

  "Next week? Adam, are you out of your mind?" Jen gasped.

  "Not yet," he murmured against her lips. "But I'm getting pretty close to it with wanting you." Drawing her as close to his body as the console would allow, his lips teased hers while his hands moved restlessly over her shoulders and down her back. "Why not next week?" he asked in a near growl.

  Why? Where could she start? She didn't even know where he'd be after next week—or before, for that matter. Did he? she wondered fleetingly. To her, the way he lived seemed unstable and erratic. In no way could she see herself fitting into his life. What did they have, really, except this crazy physical attraction?

  "Jennifer?" The whispered caress, combined with the mind-clouding, restless movements of his hands on her body destroyed her attempt at marshaling arguments. His lips almost touching hers crumbled her defenses entirely. "I said, why not next week?"

  Jen blurted the first thing that came into her mind. "My parents! Adam, they haven't even met you." Pulling away from him, she wailed, "What on earth could I say to them?"

  "How about the truth?" Adam murmured, moving back onto his own seat behind the wheel.

  "What truth?" Jen asked uneasily.

  "Why, while snowbound, you met a man, fell in love, and went to bed with him." Jen gasped, but Adam went on in a soft, rough tone, "Or have you forgotten you said you were in love?"

  "No," she denied swiftly. "I haven't forgotten."

  "Neither have I. Are you going to marry me, Jennifer?"

  Every one of the reasons why she should say no rushed into her mind, only to become muddled and confused, and rendered useless against one irrefutable fact. She wanted him so very badly. Could it possibly work? If, given a little time to get to know each other—would it? Maybe, hope sprang wildly, just maybe. She tried to visualize the future, but the only image that came was of the two of them, locked together, on the bed in his room at the motel.

  The picture made her heart thump, filled every inch of her being with need. No! she thought frantically. That's not enough to build a future on. But—but if I can keep him at arm's length, at a distance, while we get to know each other? Could it work? I've got to give it a try, because I love him. Oh, God, how I love him.

  "Well?"

  Jen started at the impatient edge in Adam's voice. She had been quiet too long, and he wanted an answer—at once.

  "Yes," Jen surrendered.

  "When?" Adam demanded.

  "Adam, you must understand, planning a wedding takes time."

  "How much time?" Adam asked grimly.

  Jen wet her lips. "My mother would love a June wedding."

  "Four months." His lips twisted wryly. "And you fully intend making me sweat out every day of it, don't you?" Before she could answer he sighed, "Is this to be some kind of a test?" But again he didn't wait for a reply. "Okay, four months. I have some things to clear up anyway."

  "What things?" she asked in confusion.

  "Jennifer"—his voice held rough impatience—"do you want a husband that spends most of the year out of the country?"

  "No, of course not!"

  "That's what I thought. I'm changing jobs." Jen opened her mouth to question him, and he held up his hand to forestall her. "Not companies, Jennifer, just the job I do for that company. I've been offered a desk job several times over the last few years, and now I've decided to take it. But I will have to leave the country a few times before June."

  Who is she? Jen hated herself for the first question that flashed into her mind. Nevertheless, there it was, and she had to face it; he was a very virile man. He had proved that—repeatedly—in a very short amount of time. The mental question that followed was equally as unsettling. Would he break with her entirely or—afraid even to think of an answer, she rushed into speech with the first thing that came into her head.

  "Where are we going to live?"

  "That's one of the other things I was thinking of." Adam glanced at her sharply, frowning, then he went on calmly, "I have a town house outside Philly." He named a rather exclusive suburb, causing Jen to raise her eyebrows in surprise. "If it doesn't suit you, we'll look around for something else." He shrugged. "But we can discuss all that later. Right now it's late and you'd better go in. I have to go into the office tomorrow morning to work on a report, but I'll call you after lunch, okay?"

  Feeling suddenly very tired, Jen nodded and turned to the door, her hand groping for the release.

  "No good-night kiss, Jennifer?" Adam chided softly.

  Jen turned to meet his descending head with an eagerness that was shaming, her arms curling around his neck at the same moment his hands slid under her short jacket
to clasp her waist. His mouth explored hers with an almost cool deliberation. She sensed it and still she was powerless against the fierce surge of desire that drove her lips to beg him silently to deepen the kiss. When his hands moved up her sides to brush the outer curve of her breasts, Jen shivered in anticipation. Sharp disappointment drew a soft moaning protest from her lips when his hands moved back to her waist.

  "My foolish angel." Adam's warm breath feathered her cheek deliciously as his lips sought her ear. "In punishing me, you'll be punishing yourself—don't you see that?"

  "I don't know what you mean," Jen denied softly.

  "I cautioned you once about lying to yourself." As if to underline his words, his hands slid over the silklike material of her jumpsuit, tantalizingly near but not touching her breasts until she, in an aching need to feel the possession of those hands, arched her back. "You need it"—one long finger drew a curving line up to a quivering tip— "every bit as badly as I do. If you persist with your present attitude, these next four months are going to be sheer hell—for both of us."

  Anger at him as well as herself gave her the strength to tear herself out of his arms. What he'd said was true, of course, which made it that much harder to swallow. How, she wondered distractedly, had he known so positively that she had no intention of allowing that kind of intimacy again before the marriage took place? Feeling guilty—and made more angry for feeling so—she snapped, "You're wrong, Adam. I will be much too busy to think about it."

  "Oh, you'll think about it." Adam's soft laughter fanned the flame of her anger. "In fact, I'll bet that by the time the day dawns, you will be thinking of little else."

  "No!" Jen shook her head sharply. "I—"

  "But console yourself with this thought," Adam interrupted harshly. "By then, I will have been on the rack for a very long time."

  Refusing to listen to any more, Jen found the release and let the door swing open. "I can't think how I'll explain to my parents." The sudden thought flashed into her head and emerged as a wail.