by Diana Palmer
Trembling, she drew her lips just a whisper away from his, shifting sensuously under him as she sought to get even closer, and he groaned.
“Please,” she whispered achingly. “Please help me.”
He held her face gently in hands that trembled, his face tense, his body strung as taut as a rope as he stared down at her with tormented eyes.
“I can’t,” he whispered, easing his weight from her. He settled alongside her trembling body and gently drew her close, his hands soothing now, easing the ache from her body.
“King,” she whispered against his warm throat. “King.”
“Next time,” he said at her ear, “we won’t stop. I’ll finish it.”
“I couldn’t have said no,” she moaned.
He laughed softly, tenderly. “I wonder what Miss Peake would have said if she walked in and I had given way to my instincts?”
“Miss Peake?” she echoed, dazed.
“You do remember I asked her to bring you some berries and cream?” he asked.
She gasped, drawing back to look at him. “I forgot!”
He cocked an eyebrow, letting his eyes drop to her open gown. She caught the edges together, flushing as her eyes met his.
“Don’t be shy with me,” he chided. “You’re lovely.”
“You make me feel that way,” she corrected, looking at him quietly. “King...why?”
“Why what?” he murmured, throwing his long legs over the side of the bed. He sat up and lit a cigarette while she fumbled with her buttons.
“What do you want from me?” she persisted.
“Everything,” he replied quietly, towering over her with his shirt still unbuttoned.
She searched his eyes, confused. “For how long?”
He shrugged. “Who knows?”
“And how about what I want?” she replied softly. He wasn’t offering commitment. He was agreeing to nothing more than a few nights together, with no strings on either side.
“I know what you want, darling,” he murmured wickedly. “You want me.”
“And is desire enough to satisfy you?” she challenged.
He gave her a strange, intent look. “I suppose it will have to be.”
At that moment, Miss Peake came in, carrying a tray with iced tea and a bowl of fresh strawberries and cream.
“King picked these for you,” Miss Peake told her with a quick, appraising glance at King’s open shirt. “Thought you might like some whipped cream on them, too.”
King ignored the disapproving glance and moved toward the door. “I’ve got work to do,” he said without looking back at Teddi.
“Too bad the cattle won’t herd themselves,” Miss Peake remarked.
King turned, glancing quietly at Teddi. “Isn’t it?” he murmured.
She glanced up at him. “Thanks for the therapy,” she murmured wickedly.
He cocked an eyebrow. “Is that what it felt like?” he asked. “I’ll have to work on my technique.” And he turned and went out the door, leaving her puzzled and breathless.
For the next few days, King reverted to being polite, friendly, and nothing more. It was as if he were giving her breathing space, time to consider the final step, to decide if she could settle for the only relationship he was willing to offer.
She agonized over it. Loving him as she did, she didn’t know if she could ever accept an affair. It would be even harder to let go afterward than it was now. Because she would have had the joy of belonging to him. And that would bind her to him in new ways, with strings that were impossible to break.
He’d practically admitted that desire was all he felt for her, when he’d said that desire would be enough to satisfy him. But would it be enough for her? The physical relationship would be wonderful, of course, but was it enough? She loved just sitting with him in the living room, watching TV. She loved watching him over the dinner table, riding beside him and talking on lazy summer mornings. She enjoyed him in ways that had nothing to do with desire. The newness of physical possession would soon wear off, and what would they have left? Teddi would feel like a cast-off shoe, and she didn’t think she could bear it.
She made up her mind slowly, but irrevocably. And when she felt well enough to pick up her life, and the stitches had been removed by a local doctor, she decided to go back to New York. The scar, while still noticeable on her cheek, could be covered with cosmetics, and she could walk well enough to work. She would work, she told herself, because she had to. And perhaps her career would take the place of a brief affair with King. Perhaps it would at least help fill the empty space.
Tearing off a hand would have hurt less, but she knew she had to tell King what she was going to do.
She followed him out the door after breakfast, she had made up her mind. She closed the door behind them, leaving the family at the breakfast table.
“What is it?” he asked gently. “Something important?”
“Yes.” She licked her dry lips, fascinated by the way his eyes followed the movement so intently. He looked sensuously masculine this morning, in his tight-fitting jeans and brown-patterned shirt, the wide-brimmed hat cocked over one brow, his face faintly smiling as he looked at her.
“Well?” he prodded.
It was all she could do to keep from throwing her body against his and begging him to carry her off someplace. She shook her head to dispel that notion.
“I’m going home tomorrow.”
He looked as if somebody had hit him on the head with a length of steel pipe.
“What?”
“I said, I’m going home tomorrow,” she repeated. “I need to get back to work, and the scars are fading fast, thank goodness. I can cover them with cosmetics...”
“You’re leaving me?” he burst out. “Just like that!”
She faltered, shocked at the fury in his hard face.
“I...” she began.
“Is it that Lothario accountant after all?” he growled. “Or is it just that you can’t force yourself to make a commitment?”
“Look who’s talking about commitments!” she threw back. “Old Footloose and Fancy-Free!”
“What did you expect, a ninety-nine-year contract, for God’s sake?” he growled.
“No, thanks,” she returned, “I couldn’t take ninety-nine years of you!”
“Scared?” he chided.
“Not of you,” she retorted. “I just want more than you’ve got to offer, that’s all.”
“Like what?” he challenged, his eyes blazing. “Flashy fashion shows and leering men?”
“It’s my career!” she cried.
His face froze over. “Then, if that’s what you want, go back to it,” he said with ice in his voice. “Go today. I’ll have someone drive you to the airport this afternoon, in fact.”
She gasped. “What?”
There were storms brewing in his cold gray eyes, and a livid fury that she didn’t understand. “You heard me,” he ground out. “Get packed!” He turned on his heel and stomped down the steps.
Tears poured down her cheeks as his words sank in. He was throwing her off the property! She could barely believe her own ears. Did he hate her so much that he couldn’t bear the sight of her anymore? Or was it just his masculine pride, damaged because she wasn’t the pushover he’d expected her to be?
She went wobbling up the stairs to her room in a daze and started packing, wondering how she was going to explain this to Jenna and Mary.
She grimaced. Well, she’d just let King explain it. He could tell them whatever he liked. She’d make up some story about an assignment or something, and let him take it from there. Arrogant beast!
It only took a few minutes to get her things together. King thought she preferred modeling to him, and perhaps it was better that way. She didn’t want him to find out how desperately she was in love with him. Her pride would be crushed if he knew.
She closed the bag and picked it up, taking one last look around the bedroom to make sure she hadn’t forgotten
anything. She turned, closing the door quietly behind her. Above all, she must act as if nothing were wrong, she mustn’t let him know how devastated she really was.
She walked down the staircase, to find King in deep conversation with Jenna at the front door. He looked up when he saw Teddi in her white linen pantsuit and the same pale blue wrap blouse she’d worn the day he took her to Banff.
Something flashed in his gray eyes at the sight of that blouse, but his face gave nothing away.
“I was just telling Jenna about your new assignment,” he told Teddi curtly, daring her to deny it.
She cleared her throat and tried to look radiant, wary of Jenna’s sharp eyes on her as she went the rest of the way down the staircase.
“Yes, I’m so excited I can hardly stand it,” she told her best friend with a forced smile. “Imagine, two commercials...!”
King looked uncomfortable and Jenna narrowed her eyes. “I thought it was a trunk show in Miami,” she said.
Teddi shifted the small suitcase from one hand to the other. “Uh, yes, that’s what it is...a trunk show and two commercials in Miami,” she murmured, her voice fading away.
“What,” Jenna asked, looking from one to the other, “is going on?”
King took Teddi’s arm. “We’d better go or you’ll miss your flight,” he said gruffly, drawing her out the door. “Jenna, I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” he told his sister, and slammed the door before she could ask any more questions.
“You might have given me time to say goodbye to Jenna and your mother,” Teddi said angrily as he put her in the passenger seat of the Ferrari.
“You can wave at them, can’t you?” he asked tautly. He got in and started the engine with an angry motion, barely giving her time to wave at the two stunned women standing on the front steps before he roared away toward Calgary.
She glanced at his set profile. He hadn’t even bothered to change out of his work clothes. His boots were dusty and his hat looked as if it had seen better days. But of course nobody paid any attention to clothing in a busy airport. Her eyes unconsciously worshipped him. It was only just dawning on her that by saying “no” she was banishing herself from him forever. She’d never see him again after today.
Tears formed in her big brown eyes and she turned her face away before he could see them. She’d been lonely before, and she’d survived. But having tasted his ardor, it was going to be worse now. The thought of the lonely years ahead hurt terribly.
She brushed at a tear inconspicuously and straightened in her seat. This would never do. She’d have to get hold of herself.
As if sensing her uneasiness, he turned on the radio. A constant stream of music and news filled the silence between them as his powerful Ferrari ate up the miles. He was pushing it even harder than usual, as if he couldn’t wait to be rid of her.
He pulled up in the parking lot at the busy international airport a few minutes later and cut off the engine. But he didn’t make a move to get out of the car. His big hands gripped the steering wheel hard for an instant, then he sat back in his seat and lit a cigarette.
“Did you have to wear that particular blouse?” he asked in a cold voice.
She avoided his piercing gaze. “It was the only clean one I had,” she said quietly. “I was going to wash the others this afternoon.”
“You’ll have to buy a ticket,” he said. “I didn’t stop to make reservations for you.” He studied her with stormy eyes. “Do you have the fare?”
She swallowed. “Of course,” she lied. She had planned to borrow money from Jenna.
He took a sharp draw from the cigarette. “Of course,” he laughed shortly, reading her like a book. “I’ll put it on my charge card. You can pay me back when you start working again.”
She couldn’t refuse. All she had in her purse was a hundred dollars. She’d spent every other penny on the hospital bill and food. But having to accept charity from him was the final indignity. A single tear made a path down her cheek, but she turned away before he saw it.
“Thank you,” she said, composing herself.
He took another quick, jerky draw from the cigarette. “Will you be able to work?”
“I think so,” she said proudly. “I’ll have to, if I want to enroll for the next semester. I should be able to do trunk shows at least, the scars don’t show at a distance. And I can cover them now with cosmetics. I’ll be fine. Just fine.”
He made an impatient sound and turned to stare out the window. His hat seemed to bother him. He ripped it off and tossed it onto the back seat, running a hand through his thick blond hair.
“It was your idea,” he said accusingly, glaring across the seat at her with fierce gray eyes.
She blinked. “What was?”
“Going back to New York,” he growled. “Back to your fabulous career, isn’t that how the song goes?”
She bit her lower lip. It would only take a word, just one word, to get his arms around her. But she couldn’t say it. She couldn’t give in now, she couldn’t sacrifice her pride, her self-respect, for just a few nights with him....
She stared out the window, hating the departing jets, hating the very sound of the engines as the huge planes swept up to touch the clouds. One of those would take her out of King’s life forever.
As she brooded, she felt his fingers lightly touch her hair. She turned, aching, and looked up into his eyes.
Time seemed to stretch like a violin string between them while they searched each other’s faces.
“Come here and kiss me goodbye,” he growled huskily and reached out to draw her against him.
With something between a sob and a moan, she let herself be tugged over the console and into his big arms. He leaned across to put out his cigarette before he gathered her close and bent to touch her mouth with his.
Breathing unevenly, she parted her lips, giving him back the kiss as gently as he gave it, tracing his hard face with fingers that trembled and went cold as they eased over his skin, into the thick, cool strands of hair at his temples.
“Don’t nibble me,” he whispered huskily. “Kiss me properly.”
“I can’t,” she moaned, hiding her face in his warm throat. “I can’t. Oh, King!” His name was a cry of anguish, and he reacted to it in an unexpected way.
His arms contracted, lifting her higher against his taut body. “Teddi, do you want to go?” he asked intently.
“I have to,” she said simply, her voice muffled against his collar.
“Why?”
“You know why,” she whispered, closing her eyes. It was heaven to be held like this, crushed against his big body, feeling his breath, his heartbeat, as if they were her own.
“I thought I did,” he agreed. “But you aren’t any more anxious to get out of this car than I am to let you. It isn’t the philandering accountant, it never was. It isn’t your damned career, either.” He lifted her face and searched her eyes quietly. “I think you’d better tell me the truth, little one,” he said softly, “before you destroy both our lives.”
Her heart jerked in her chest. “Both?” she whispered incredulously, aware of a new note in his deep voice, a new light in his eyes.
A sob broke from her lips. “Oh, King, I don’t want an affair,” she wailed brokenly.
“Neither do I,” he said quietly. His big hands smoothed the blouse away from her collarbone, easing under the fabric to almost, but not quite, touch her high, firm breasts. When she tried to pull away, he brought her gently back. “Don’t fight me, darling,” he said softly. “There’s no need for it anymore. I’m only touching what belongs to me. You do. You always did.”
Her eyes closed and she moaned. She was going to give in, she knew it, and she was going to hate both of them. Tears welled in her eyes. “I should go home,” she breathed.
“Home is where I am,” he said. His eyes searched hers. “I told you that once, and you thought I was kidding. I wasn’t.”
“King...?” she whispered, aching for m
ore than the light, teasing play of his fingers on her skin.
“I took one look at you when you were fifteen years old,” he said in a voice too tender to be King’s, “and hated you on sight because you were years too young for what I needed from you. By the time you were seventeen, I was in torment. That night during the storm, when I walked in to check on you—I found you lying there in that transparent gown, and I wanted you so much that I ached like a boy. But I had to walk out and leave you, because you were a virgin and I was afraid of what I might do.” His eyes searched hers. “I wanted you to the point of madness that night, and it’s only been a little less consuming since.” As he spoke, his hands eased down under the loose blouse and gently took the weight of her soft, bare breasts, and she cried out with the sudden stab of pleasure.
“It’s all right,” he breathed, bending to kiss her trembling mouth. “I feel the same way when you touch me. Waves of blinding pleasure, washing over my body like fire...”
She lifted her arms around his neck, yielding her body completely to his slow, tormenting hands, trembling at the newness of allowing him to touch her, caress her this way. Her eyes looked straight into his, her teeth catching her lower lip to stifle the moans that welled up behind them.
“I had to let you think I hated you,” he whispered gruffly, watching her. “It was the only protection I could give you. If I’d touched you like this even once, there would have been no stopping me. I was obsessed with you. It was agony to have you at the ranch, because I spent all those long days and nights forcing myself not to look at you, not to come too close.” He expelled a harsh breath, and she read the torment in his eyes with a sense of wonder at what he seemed to be saying. “Then, at Easter, you started playing up to me, and I all but left the country. I taunted you, but I had to, can you understand that? I had to run you off before we got in over our heads, until I could get a grip on myself. And Billingsly had been filling my head full of lies...I was so jealous of you that I could have killed him!”
She searched his darkening eyes. She had to know—she had to know!