Don’t Call Me Sweetheart

by Jeanette Ward

  “Just leave, Christian. Please. I told you I don’t want to see you anymore.” Donning underwear and slipping into a lacy bra as quickly as she could, Whitney reached for her jeans and a sweater with trembling fingers as she countered his order with one of her own.

  From the other side of the door she heard him swear under his breath but he restrained himself from further battering the door.

  “Then get yourself dressed,” he growled. “We still need to talk.”

  “It doesn’t sound like you plan to do much talking if I come out,” Whitney answered him stiffly, hastily pulling a comb through her tangled mass of curls. “How do I know I can trust you not to touch me anymore?”

  So. She’d convinced herself that his touch was so loathsome, had she? Then he’d be damned if he would do so again before she asked for it, Christian told himself ominously. The wench could just beg him to ease her needs before he would lay a hand on her again.

  “I’ll see if I can’t manage to keep my hands to myself,” he promised through both the door and gritted teeth. “Can you do the same?”

  Whitney gasped, outraged at the blatant referral to the passionate responses he had elicited from her. She flung the door wide open and faced him with her hands on her hips, sparks flying from her eyes.

  “The only man I won’t keep my hands off will be my husband and he sure as hell won’t be you!”

  Black shards of ice met her gaze and they both silently acknowledged the battle lines that had been drawn, despite their bodies’ attraction for each other.

  “I don’t want to talk in the bedroom,” Whitney said pointedly. “Follow me.”

  Not liking her authoritative tone of voice but thoroughly enjoying the swing of her hips from his vantage point behind her, Christian followed her back through the connecting door and into the sitting room. She seated herself on the couch and indicated she expected him to take a chair across from her.

  He did so but Christian couldn’t help commenting, “You’re different, Whitney. What’s happened to you while you’ve been out here?”

  “I’ve grown up,” she answered him, meeting his probing look head-on. “I’ve learned not to run away from my problems anymore.”

  “Was I one of those problems?”

  “You know you were, so don’t play games with me,” Whitney shot at him, her anger returning. “You treated me despicably, then for months you ignored the fact that I had purchased your business.” She didn’t mention the little fact that he had disparaged her life’s work along the way. “I have every right to be angry at you.”

  “Maybe so,” Christian agreed, stretching his long legs out in front of him. If her name had been on the contract and he had overlooked it in his pain of having to sell he knew she was justified at being angry at him for not contacting her sooner. He would have been here the next day if he had only realized. “But if you hadn’t disappeared we could have talked about it. Did you know that I called every day for weeks, looking for you?”

  “That’s easy enough to say, considering you’re hell-bent on getting me into that bed!”

  Not willing to give her the satisfaction of knowing she had pricked his pride, Christian retaliated with practiced ease, “It was a long plane ride. I’m hell-bent on getting any woman into that bed. You were just the first one to happen along.”

  “You nasty, son of a…”

  “Now, Whitney,” he cut in. “Business associates usually don’t talk to each other that way.”

  “In the first place, we’re not business associates. Let me point out that I own this property and you don’t. And in the second place,” Whitney said, having trouble talking as she conjured up a mental picture of Christian making love to another woman in the big four-poster bed, “that’s my bed and there won’t be anyone getting into it until I say so, which won’t be until I have a wedding band around my finger.”

  “Were you hoping it would be mine?”

  Whitney turned away and blinked her eyes several times to keep the tears at bay, hoping he hadn’t noticed. If he wanted to discuss the situation at hand, she would make sure they stuck to subjects that were relevant and not allow herself to be sidetracked. Masking her feelings with a false sense of bravado she looked back at Christian who was busy regarding her with a lazy smile twitching his sensuous lips, one eyebrow cocked as he dared to continue playing his war of words. He was obviously unaware of how close she had come to losing her composure when he had asked his casually worded question.

  “I’ve never thought about you like that.”

  “Liar.”

  “Oh.” The one word said he quite clearly didn’t believe her.

  Whitney closed her eyes for a moment to settle her nerves. Maybe he would go away if they discussed the situation at hand. When she opened her eyes, Christian was regarding her with a lazy smile twitching his sensuous lips, one eyebrow cocked as he dared her to continue playing the war of words.

  “You obviously started out wanting to talk about the sale, so let’s get on with it.”

  “You’re sure you won’t run away again if I hurt your feelings?” His teasing barb struck a nerve. He was the reason Whitney had left New York in the first place, the reason she had committed herself to changing her entire outlook on life. She’d never run away from men like him again. She didn’t have to anymore.

  “I’m not going anywhere but you are. I want you to get your things out of my room and my house before I have you arrested for trespassing!” Whitney had been willing to have an adult conversation with the man but if he meant to insult her instead she was perfectly happy to give as good as she got.

  “This is my house, in case you’ve forgotten that little detail, woman! You can’t keep it unless I’m unable to comply with the buyback clause.”

  Whitney wished he would stop calling her “woman” all the time. “I doubt you have what it takes to buy it back on the anniversary date.” She really had no idea whether he did or didn’t but she wasn’t going to let him know that. “Until then, it’s mine free and clear and there’s nothing you can say to change the situation!” She paused and tipped her head to the side as she regarded him with steely eyes. “I wonder, do you have what it takes?”

  “Are you asking me to show you?”

  Whitney instantly blushed at the sexual insinuation, remembering the feel of the hard bulge pressed against her belly earlier. In that respect she was well aware that he had everything they both needed.

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about,” she snapped.

  “Then you’ll have your answer in March won’t you? We’ll see who’s packing their bags then. In the meantime,” Christian continued, refusing to let her dictate to him in his own home, “I suggest you get your gorgeous little butt busy moving into another room because I’m not budging. When I choose to share my room with a woman, it will be with a sweeter tempered one!”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Whitney couldn’t believe he actually expected her to vacate the proprietor’s wing for his convenience. “These are my rooms and I’m not leaving!”

  “You are.”

  “I’m not,” Whitney responded stubbornly, lifting her chin in defiance.

  “I can see your changes included losing any semblance of common sense you may have once possessed. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll be gone when I get back,” Christian warned her as he rose to his full height and stretched his arms above his head lazily.

  “And if you’re going somewhere, you don’t need to bother coming back!” Whitney retorted boldly.

  “I wouldn’t want to leave you pining away for me. Again,” he commented confidently as he jerked his coat on and stepped to the door. The look he shot in her direction told her he was referring to her earlier behavior in the bathroom and she felt her face flush scarlet. “Just make sure you do as you’re told.”

  With that he turned and disappeared from sight, leaving Whitney frustrated, furious and totally resistant to his audacity. Leave? Just because h
e told her to? The man must be joking because nothing could be further from her mind!

  The sound of the front door slamming propelled her into action and with great relish, Whitney gathered the bags that Christian had deposited near the sitting room door and threw them down the stairs, not caring that they marred the paint on the trip down. “I hope you trip and break your neck on those if you try to come up here again,” she mumbled to herself, hoping desperately that he wouldn’t return at all.

  That done, she closed the door firmly and turned the lock knowing it wouldn’t keep him out for long. Still not feeling safe she looked around and found a straight backed chair which she wedged tightly under the doorknob as an extra precaution against Christian’s unwanted presence. At last she heaved a sigh of relief. Even with a key he wouldn’t be disturbing her again tonight! And in the morning they could try again to discuss the situation calmly and rationally. She hoped.

  An hour passed quietly, then another and finally Whitney removed her clothes and put on a long filmy nightgown before crawling into bed exhausted. Tomorrow would be soon enough to deal with her prodigal problem.

  Unfortunately she had forgotten the sliding glass door leading to her private summer porch. Christian didn’t. Upon his return from informing the Walstens that he was back permanently and assuring them that he had made arrangements for his accommodations this first night, he had found his suitcases piled unceremoniously at the bottom of the stairs. Irrefutable proof that Whitney meant what she said. He wasted little time making use of the alternate entrance. The flight of wooden steps leading to the porch from below had been an afterthought but one that stood him in good stead now.

  In the blink of an eye Christian stood beside the bed, watching Whitney sleep as pale moonlight bathed her perfect features with a soft glow. She was breathtakingly beautiful and his heart swelled with longing, wishing that their relationship wasn’t the way it was. How could he convince her that she meant the world to him as long as she continued to be such a firebrand? Every time she reminded him of the fact that she possessed his home he came face to face with her deviousness and he lost control of his emotions. If they kept this up he’d never find a way to reveal his true feelings. Not that he held out much hope that she would return his love. He certainly hadn’t given her any reason to feel anything for him other than the animosity that he was coming to expect.

  Knowing that it would only serve to further rankle Whitney but unwilling to let her have the upper hand in a situation he knew was of his own making Christian shed his clothes and slid between the sheets, keenly aware of the luscious woman lying next to him. His vow not to touch her again until she asked him to do so was the only reason he was able to stop himself from reaching out and drawing her to him. More than anything he wanted to kiss away the heated words that always seemed to be between them, soothe the hurt feelings that he knew he had caused. He wondered if she realized how much it hurt knowing she had bought his home out from under him when he was most vulnerable. Apologizing hadn’t helped much. If he could just find another way to make her realize just how much Mountain Meadow Inn meant to him and how much more she meant.

  Christian knew he should give up and sleep on the couch, or a chair, anywhere other than within arm’s reach of this red-haired siren but he couldn’t make himself do it. He may have taken her on as a partner out of desperation, but that didn’t mean she could exile him from what he considered his. What he would always consider his.

  Instead he turned on his side and picked up a strand of silky hair and watched it curl itself around his finger as if it had a life of its own. He lowered his head to Whitney’s, drinking in the sweet scent of her hair, pushing himself to the brink of breaking his vow. When Whitney turned in her sleep and snuggled innocently against his chest he caught his breath, not wanting to disturb her, not wanting to break the magic that had delivered her into his arms despite his intentions. As she settled back into a deep slumber, he allowed his arm to rest across her small waist and reflected on how very different the evening could have turned out. Sleep was a long time coming for the weary traveler.

  Chapter Nine

  The morning sun streaming through the lace curtains on the French doors to the sunporch roused Whitney from a surprisingly restful sleep. Reaching her slim arms above her head she lazily arched her back and stretched. Her eyes flew wide open the moment her bottom bumped into the hard masculine presence behind her. She was instantly awake…and spitting mad. Hadn’t she had made it perfectly clear last night who she would—and would not—share her bed with? How dare Christian disregard her wishes so blatantly.

  Without stopping to figure out how he had gotten there Whitney was going to make sure he knew he was to leave that same way, only she’d give him a little something to help him remember to pay closer attention to her in the future.

  Moving carefully so as not to disturb him, she slipped quietly from the bed and padded to the bathroom where she filled her drinking glass with ice cold water. Returning to the side of the bed where Christian lay sprawled, sound asleep and keeping her eyes averted from his splendidly displayed male physique, she dumped the contents of the glass triumphantly into his peacefully sleeping face, grinning with satisfaction when he came sputtering awake, cursing a blue streak.

  “Who the hell…”

  Christian furiously pushed the water out of his eyes, swinging his head around as he tried to find the person who had foolishly decided to start his day this way.

  Whitney wisely skipped out of harm’s way after delivering her message but she couldn’t resist asking with greatly exaggerated concern, her sparkling green eyes wide and innocent, “Did you enjoy your morning wake up call, sir?”

  “You had best come over here and take your licks right now, girl and save me the trouble of chasing you down. It’ll just make me madder if I have to come and get you.”

  Whitney wasn’t sure what kind of “licks” Christian had in mind and she wasn’t going to find out. The way he was looking at her scantily clad body through the wet strands of hair plastered to his forehead she decided since had made her point it would be best to retreat to the dressing room until she could face him in a more civilized manner.

  “I’ll make a note of that when I have time,” she tossed flippantly over her shoulder as she wheeled and raced across the room. She wasn’t fast enough. He sprang from the bed in less than a heartbeat and had caught her by the arms before she could reach the safety of the sturdy locked door.

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he told her ominously before he lowered his head and captured her lips in a leisurely kiss sure to awaken a response within her. Much to Whitney’s chagrin it did. Of course. This time she withstood the impulse to return his kiss a bit longer than she had been able to yesterday, telling herself that if she didn’t do something immediately she stood to lose more than just her dignity this fine morning. Without a second thought she bit down on Christian’s tongue as he slipped it past the barrier of her teeth.

  “You can take that as my warning.” Whitney threw his own words back into his scowling face.“I was pretty certain I made it clear that I wouldn’t share my bed with anyone other than my husband!”

  “I don’t particularly care what you think, or want.” Of course that wasn’t true but she had gone and made him mad again. “If I decide to have you, I will. If I decide to sleep in this bed, I will. Are you beginning to get the picture?”

  Christian’s cold retort, coupled with the way he was still holding her trapped tightly against him, pushed Whitney’s anger to a higher level. She forged blindly ahead, unwilling to give way to his overbearing attitude even though her situation was precarious at best.

  “I’m beginning to see that you are a self-centered, egotistical, bastard and I was a fool to ever believe differently. How Tess can stand to call you her friend is beyond comprehension. For someone named Christian, you bear precious little resemblance to your namesake.”

  Raw fury burned in the dark eyes fixed o
n her belligerent expression.

  “I guess you and I are the devil and his angel.” The sardonic words slipped past a humorless smile.

  “See, that’s where you’re wrong. I’m notyours and I never will be,” Whitney whispered hoarsely.

  “Don’t bet the farm on it, or maybe I should say the inn,” Christian answered dryly, letting his hands trail sensuously up and down her arms to torment her. He laughed when she trembled. No matter how much she wanted to deny it, he possessed one weapon that was truly effective at dealing with her temper.

  “Ohhh…” Whitney cried in frustration, beating against his broad chest with her small fists. “Let me go before I scream!”

  “Go ahead. Scream your head off. You’re the one with the reputation to protect. I rather enjoy watching you try to convince yourself that you don’t want the same thing I do,” Christian goaded her.

  “What is it you want, Christian?” Whitney asked scathingly.

  “Right now,” he said in a more level tone of voice, “a hot bath and some breakfast. I’m tired of your sharp tongue.” With that he abruptly released her but not before he delivered a smart whack to her trim derriere. He stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. She could hear him moving about inside, helping himself to the use of her personal belongings in lieu of his own. Was nothing she owned sacred to him?

  Whitney stepped back and glanced about noting that the suitcases had been rescued and were lined up against the wall near the door of the bedroom as a reminder of their owner’s stubbornness. She entertained thoughts of sabotaging their contents for a fleeting moment but she decided against it. Christian enjoyed punishing her far too much.

  With nothing else to do until she too could get into the bathroom she climbed back onto the bed, sitting cross-legged in the middle with the sheet pulled over her legs as she waited for Christian to finish. He took his time, oblivious to her increasingly hard to ignore physical needs and didn’t emerge until nearly a half-hour later. His dark hair lay damp against his temples and he had a short towel wrapped loosely around his firm flanks, presenting Whitney with a fine view of powerfully muscled legs. With a mocking bow in her direction as he caught sight of her looking at him he made his way to his luggage and pulled out a pair of khaki pants and a dark indigo denim shirt.