by Janet Dailey
"Actually, Julia, I think I would prefer to go to my room. I'd like to shower and do some unpacking before dinner," Selena said with an unsteady smile.
"You go right ahead, my dear. Dinner is at seven in the Orleans Room. We're seated at table 40."
The band had finished playing in the texas lounge, although the banjo player was plunking out a few notes as Selena made her way around the bow of the boat to the side of the texas deck where her cabin was located. For a time, the banjo vied with the calliope notes—festive sounds. Soon the texas lounge was behind Selena, and all she heard was the calliope.
Pausing at the railing outside her cabin, she didn't feel very festive. In the windows of the river terminal building where they were docked, she could see the reflection of the passengers gathered on the top deck listening to the musical steam whistles of the calliope. Her gaze strayed to the spectators scattered along the dock below her.
A little girl waved to her and Selena smiled and waved back, the smile soon fading to a faint curve. Her gaze wandered the length of the dock forward to the gangplank. There it was arrested by the tall, muscular figure of Chance Barkley, standing with his hand thrust negligently in his pants pocket, talking with the security guard on duty at the gangway.
As if he possessed an inner radar attuned to her, Chance turned his head, seeming to look directly at her. Shaken, Selena stared back, a fiery heat licking through her veins.
A gambler of sorts, Julia had called him. Selena conceded that he had some of the necessary qualities: the facile charm to trip the innocent; the unrelenting confidence to bluff his opponent; and the black shutters that could keep any of his thoughts from being revealed in his eyes.
Perhaps most of all Chance Barkley had a certain aura of danger about him gained from taking risks, a calculating recklessness that attracted. Combine that with his vital maleness and hard good looks and the end result was potent.
The dark head turned back to the guard, releasing Selena from his ensnarling gaze. She pivoted abruptly, searching through her purse for the cabin key. Her hand shook as she inserted it in the lock and opened the door.
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Chapter Four
THE SHOWER HAD THE NECESSARY reviving effect on Selena, leaving her flesh alive and tingling. Slipping into clean undergarments and her lemon yellow housecoat, she stepped into the main area of the cabin. With the louvered wood insets raised, she couldn't see out of the window.
Walking over, she slid the shutter halfway down. Instead of looking out through the glass at the windowed terminal building, she saw a strip of brown river water and a large freighter docked in from of one of the warehouses that lined the river.
How strange, she thought. There was no sensation of movement at all. Then she listened and heard the rhythmic thump of the engines, distantly, almost a vibration instead of a sound.
She turned from the window after raising the louver and walked to the chest of drawers. The hands of her traveling alarm clock said twenty minutes to seven, ample time to dress before dinner. Picking up her hairbrush, she began stroking the bristles through her hair until it was crackling and glistening like burnished copper.
A sharp rap at her cabin door brought a puzzled frown to her forehead. She hesitated, still holding the hairbrush in her hand.
"Who is it?" she called, certain Julia wouldn't be there.
"The steward," came the response, partially muffled by the door between them.
The wing of a brow lifted in confusion. Setting her brush on the dresser, Selena glanced over her shoulder to see if any of her luggage was missing. It was all there. With a little shrug of bewilderment, she reached for the door, unlocking the deadbolt and holding onto the knob to open the door a crack.
With the first sliver of outside light running the length of the door, it was yanked from her hand. In the next second, she was pushed backward. Her startled cry ended the instant she recognized the towering bulk. The door was shut.
"You!" she choked, her hazel eyes blazing with green flecks as they met the glittering black lights shining from Chance Barkley's eyes.
"I think we have some unfinished business, you and I." His voice was threateningly low.
Her hands were doubled into fists. She was too surprised and angry at the way he constantly kept popping up to be afraid. She stamped her bare foot in rage.
"Get out of here! Get out of my cabin this minute!" she ordered in a hissing rush.
"I don't think I will," he said, defying her complacently and taking a step toward her.
Instinctively she backed up. An ashtray sat on the small, narrow shelf beside the bed. She grabbed for it, desperate fingers clutching the smooth glass.
"Keep away from me!" She hurled it at his head.
He ducked and the ashtray careened loudly off the door frame, bouncing intact onto the carpeted floor. Her blood was thundering like an express train through her veins, her breath coming in quick, short gasps. She reached for the ashtray on the shelf on the opposite wall.
Long, talon-strong fingers caught her wrist, jerking her away and capturing her other wrist. Her straining and twisting struggles were wasted as Chance hauled her effortlessly against his chest.
"Didn't your mother ever teach you not to throw things, Red?" The low, taunting voice was smooth and complacent. "You could have hurt me with that ashtray."
"I wish it had bashed your head in!" Selena declared, and gasped in pained surprise as he twisted her arms behind her back and crushed her soft shape to his length.
"You're a bloodthirsty little thief," he reproved mockingly.
"Let me go or I'll scream," she threatened, tilting her head back to glare at him. "I mean it!"
He shifted the position of her arms behind her back, the long fingers of one hand easily gripping both wrists. "We can't have that," he murmured.
And Selena realized he was ignoring her warning. Taking a quick breath, she opened her mouth to scream, but his free hand was at the back of her head, holding it still while he smothered her cry in a punishing kiss. Valiantly Selena resisted, muted cries and words of damnation coming from her throat, to be swallowed by his mouth.
Powerless against his superior strength, she kicked at his shins with her bare feet, nearly breaking her toe. He forced her backward, somehow lifting her feet off the floor. She writhed against him and realized with sickening panic that the buttons that had always been too small for the buttonholes of her robe were beginning to slip free from the material in her struggle.
That discovery was quickly replaced by another, one as alarming as the first. With a balancing knee on the mattress, Chance was lowering her to the bed. Waves of panic swamped her, almost paralyzing her lungs and her heart. She glimpsed a ray of hope. As the solidness of the bed formed beneath her, he released her wrists.
Selena didn't question his reason, but took advantage of it to bring her arms around, spreading her hands against his chest before his weight crushed her. He seemed content to let her stop him stretching his length beside her, even slackening his hold on her neck to permit her to twist away from his bruising mouth.
With her lips throbbing from the grinding kiss, Selena tried to roll away from the tautly muscled man lying beside her, but his large hand covered her hipbone to force her back. She realized with a start that that wasn't all his hand was doing. It was dispensing with the last remaining buttons of her robe.
"No, don't!" she gasped in panic.
"Such modesty, Red?" His throaty voice laughed at her attempt to stave off his hands as they pushed aside the covering robe. "You act as though I haven't seen you before similarly unclad."
Her mind whirled desperately, wildly seeking an answer, thoughts jumbling one on top of the other, making no sense. The only coherent thought that pierced her confusion was that Chance wasn't even supposed to be here.
"Why aren't you in New Orleans where you belong?" Selena accused breathlessly, "Don't you know the boat has left port?"
"Yes,
I know." He was nibbling at her collarbone.
Her face was turned against the pillow as she struggled to stop his roving hands. Her nerve ends were tingling where his firm mouth explored, his warm breath caressing her sensitive skin.
"You were off the boat. I saw you," she declared on a frantic note. His attention had shifted to the pulsing vein in her neck with disturbing effect. "How did you get back on?"
"I slipped aboard when no one was looking," Chance murmured against her skin.
"What?" Selena was certain she hadn't understood him, the clamoring of her other senses possibly dulling her hearing.
She stopped trying to ward off his wayward hands. The priority had shifted to ending the devastation those male lips were wreaking. Her hands cupped his smoothly shaven jaws to push his face away as she twisted her head to bury her chin in her neck.
Selena partially succeeded in lifting his head, her fingers slipping into the midnight black of his hair. The silky crispness of the thick, strands curled around her fingers and against her palms, the feel of it virtually sensual.
"I stowed away," drawled Chance, and began an intimate exploration of her face, the wing of her brow and the curving sweep of her lashes. "You'll have to hide me."
Her fluttering lashes sprang open at the last low statement, while her hands slipped to his shoulder, splayed and resisting. "I'll do no such thing!" she denied hotly. "I'll turn you over to the captain and he'll put you ashore immediately."
Lifting his head a few inches, he studied her lazily, mockery glinting in his jet dark eyes at indignant flames flashing in hers. His hand raised to cup the underside of her jaw, his thumb rubbing the point of her chin.
There was something threatening in his action, as if at any provocation, his thumb would slide down to throttle her throat. Like a wild animal, Selena sensed the danger, saw it in the straight, ruthless line of his mouth, and remained warily motionless under his stroking thumb.
"If you turned me over to the captain, Red, I'd simply have to tell him about you." His thumb slid upward to move across her trembling lips as he added, "and the money you stole from me."
Swallowing, Selena tightly insisted, "I didn't steal your money." Her lips moved against his thumb as she spoke. It was not an altogether unpleasant sensation.
His veiled look focused on her mouth, sending her pulse rocketing, while his thumb directed itself to a more thorough exploration of her lower lip. His expression was completely masked as his gaze flicked to the round alertness of her eyes.
"Am I supposed to regard the red dress and shoes you left as equal to the value of the money you took?" he inquired in soft challenge. "Neither of them happen to be in my size or my color."
"That isn't what I meant," Selena protested.
"Then what did you mean?" His voice was as smooth as polished steel. "I gave you the money—you took it. And I didn't get what I paid for. I don't like being conned, Red. Nobody cheats me and gets away with it."
Selena could feel the silent menace of his words. "I didn't mean to take your money." With an effort, she kept her voice calm and firm.
"Didn't you?" A black eyebrow arched in mocking skepticism as his thumb moved away from her mouth.
"Honestly, I didn't," she insisted with a trace of taut anger. "When I grabbed my purse, I'd forgotten you'd put the money in it. All I was interested in was my room key that was in it."
"Your room key? You had a room at the hotel?"
"Yes, I was staying there."
"How convenient for your clients," Chance drawled.
"I don't have any clients," Selena retorted in exasperation. "It was all a joke."
"Then why am I not laughing?" he countered.
"Because you took everything Seriously," she explained earnestly, her brows drawing together in a slight frown.
"When money is involved, I'm always serious." Flat black eyes regarded her steadily and her own faltered under the look.
"Look, it was all a mistake," she began nervously. "I'm—"
But Chance interrupted to derisively mock, "A minister's daughter?"
"From Iowa," Selena tacked on unconsciously.
Laughter rolled from his throat, rich and deep, as he threw his head back in amusement. Dying to a low chuckle, it glinted brightly in his eyes, teasing and taunting her assertion.
"A minister's daughter from Iowa," he repeated. "Is that supposed to make your claim legitimate? Because you're from Iowa?"
He laughed softly again, infuriating Selena to the point where she almost choked on her own anger. "It happens to be the truth! And I don't give a damn whether you believe me or not!"
His eyes widened in pretended shock. "What would your father say if he heard such language?" he murmured reprovingly.
A frustrated moan was wrenched from her throat. "Why won't you listen to me? I tried to return the money to you."
"I'm sure you did." There was a single trace of disbelief in his voice.
"I did," Selena snapped. "When I discovered it in my purse, I sealed it in an envelope. I was going to slip it under your door when you were out. Don't you remember those phone calls you got where there was nobody on the other end? It was me, calling to see if you were in your room."
"How can you prove that when there was no one on the other end?" Chance continued to bait her, seeming to derive amusement from her anger.
"Surely the fact that I know about the phone calls proves something," she retorted.
"It might prove that you were trying to figure out a way to get back into my room to retrieve your dress and shoes," he pointed out.
"I wasn't," Selena denied his claim in an impatient burst. "As a matter of fact, I even tried to leave the money for you at the desk this morning, but you'd already checked out."
"Why didn't you just return it in person instead of supposedly trying all these covert attempts?" His look was bland, unrevealing and unconvinced.
"Are you crazy?" she expelled in a laughing, scornful breath. "And risk ending up like this—in bed with you?" Suddenly aware of their prone position she tried to push away and sit up, but his hand pressed her shoulders to the bed. "I ran out of your hotel room to avoid this!" she hissed.
His gaze narrowed thoughtfully as he weighed her words. "All right," he conceded. "Return my money and I'll forget the whole thing."
Selena paled, the anger flowing out of her with a rush. "I don't have it anymore," she said in a small voice.
She hadn't been aware of any softening in his expression until it hardened. "You don't have it anymore," he repeated her statement. "You had it this morning, but you don't have it now. I suppose I'm wasting my time by asking you what happened to it?"
"The desk clerk wouldn't give me your name or address so I couldn't mail it to you," Selena tried desperately to explain the dilemma she had been in. "And it wasn't mine, so I couldn't keep it."
"Oh, no, a minister's daughter couldn't keep money that didn't rightfully belong to her," he agreed wryly. "So what did you do with it?"
"I gave it away." She couldn't tell whether he was believing any part of what she said. "To a charity."
A smile seemed to play with his mouth, the corners twitching. "Do you expect me to believe that?"
"It's the truth, I swear," Selena vowed.
"It seems to me," he said, pausing to watch his finger as it traced the sensitive cord on the side of her neck, "that we're back to where we started—with the money paid and the goods still to be delivered."
"Will you stop?" Panic bubbled in her throat and she swallowed it down. His mouth descended towards her and she turned her head to elude it. "Don't!"
Winding a bunch of auburn hair around his fingers, Chance tugged her back, capturing her lips with practiced ease. His other hand slid over the bareness of her stomach, arousing a tumult of emotion that she was powerless to control. His seductive mastery was completely beyond her experience.
When he felt her trembling and unwilling response, he lowered his head, seeking the hollow of
her throat. Selena's resistance stiffened as she felt the bra strap slipping from her shoulder and the trailing tips of his fingers making their way to the exposed swell of her breast. She clawed at his hand, only to have it closed firmly over the lacy cup of her brassiere.
"Don't do this, please," she repeated an earlier plea. "I'm not that kind of girl."
He followed the curve of her neck to her ear, nuzzling it, his warm breath arousing and stimulating. "Are you trying to convince me that you don't sell your favors despite what I overheard at the café?"
"I don't, no," Selena protested, fighting the breathlessness that had attacked her voice. "Those men thought that was what I did and I just went along with it. It was…It was just a little harmless fun, a joke. When I saw you later at the hotel, I didn't know what to do. One lie just led to another."
He moved, his mouth playing over her lips, teasing and tantalizing them into wanting his kiss. "Isn't that a strange kind of joke for a minister's daughter to be playing?"
"I don't think you've known many minister's children," she breathed tightly. "We tend to be more mischievous than other kids."
A swift, hard kiss effectively silenced her before Chance unexpectedly levered himself from her. Propped up by an elbow, he studied her flushed and shaken expression.
"Suppose I believe that you aren't that kind, what then?" he challenged.
"Do you believe me?" She searched his dark, unreadable features.
"I believe at least part of your story, although I find your tale about what happened to my money is a little hard to swallow," he returned.
"It's true," Selena rushed. "You can look through my bag and see that, apart from some traveler's checks, I only have a little cash."
"That doesn't prove anything. You could have spent it to pay for this cruise." His gaze narrowed. "Unless my aunt paid your passage."
"I paid my own fare," she flashed, resenting his accusation, "with my own money."