"Interesting."
"Yeah?"
"You're in love with my daughter, aren't you?"
Stunned, Travis stared at the man as if he was suddenly speaking Greek. "What?"
"Answer the question, Travis," Lisa said from the doorway.
Both men spun around to face her as she slipped through the door and closed it behind her.
"How long have you been there?" Travis demanded.
"Long enough to know I want to hear you answer my father's question."
He looked from Lisa to her father and back again. Emotions churned inside him, but he'd be damned if he'd let himself be cornered. Those blue eyes of hers locked on him, and he felt the slam of their punch right down to his bones. But he couldn't give her what she wanted.
If nothing else, being in this house tonight had taught him that much.
"The answer's no, Lisa," he said softly, nearly choking on the lie.
* * *
Chapter 11
«^»
Lisa flinched as if he'd struck her. Pain blossomed inside her and spread on a slow-moving tide of misery. Amazing how much power one small word could carry. Her gaze locked with his, she fought to draw breath. She stared into his eyes, and even from across the room she saw regret shimmering in those brown depths.
"You're lying," she whispered, her voice breaking on the words.
His features twisted briefly. "Lisa—"
"Why are you lying?" she asked, not really expecting an answer. He didn't disappoint her. He didn't say anything, simply stared at her through eyes that looked as pained as she felt.
"Honey," her father spoke up, and she jumped, startled. She'd almost forgotten he was in the room. And frankly she didn't care. All that mattered at the moment was Travis and making him admit that he cared for her. She couldn't be wrong about this. She couldn't be. She'd felt the passion in him. The tenderness. It was more than desire between them and they both knew it.
"Let him go," her father said. "Don't make another mistake. Five engagements are enough for anyone."
"Five?"
She stiffened and met Travis's stunned gaze squarely. She probably should have told him about those engagements herself. "Yes, five." Slanting a quick glance at her father, she frowned at him, then looked back at the man still watching her. "I tried," she said, hoping to explain to him what she'd only recently discovered herself. "Tried to be what everyone expected me to be. But they were no different than my father."
"Excuse me?" The older man blurted.
She ignored him, focusing her gaze on Travis. Willing him to understand. "They wanted me for a decoration. An asset at parties. They didn't care who I was or what I thought. Not really. They saw the Chambers name and that was enough for them." She took a step closer. "Don't you see, Travis? I wanted, needed to be more. And with you … I am."
"Five broken engagements are nothing to be proud of," her father said tightly.
She winced, but before she could speak in her own defense, Travis turned on the man.
"You're her father, for God's sake. Shouldn't you be on her side?"
"I am," the man insisted.
"Then God help your enemies," Travis said bluntly. "Don't you think it's better that she had five broken engagements rather than five divorces? Can't you be proud of her for recognizing a mistake and taking steps to correct it?"
Lisa's heart filled until she wouldn't have been surprised to see it fly from her chest. She'd never been defended so nobly. She'd never seen anyone stand up to her father. And watching Travis in action made her love him all the more.
"Sergeant, you are out of line," her father muttered.
"Mr. Chambers, you're probably right. So to remedy that, I'll be leaving."
"Don't go."
He looked at her. "It's no good, Lisa. It wouldn't work."
"Isn't it worth a try?" she demanded, ignoring her father's blustering.
Travis stalked across the room in a few long strides and paused when he reached her side. Lifting one of his hands, he touched her cheek and gave her a half smile that tugged at the corners of her heart. "Trying wouldn't change the facts." Shaking his head, he said softly, "Goodbye, princess."
And then he was gone.
When the door was closed again, her father spoke up. "You're better off without him."
"Better?" Head pounding, heart aching, her eyes swimming with tears, she whirled around to face the man who had never seen the real her. "Better how, Dad? Is it better for me to stay here in this house, running your life, arranging your parties?" She lifted the hem of her dress and marched across the room, not stopping until she was within arm's reach of him. "What exactly is that better than? Having my own life? A husband? A family?" She sucked in a gulp of air and tried to ease the ache inside her. But it was too big. Too all encompassing to be shoved aside. Lisa reached up and rubbed away a solitary tear. She didn't have time to cry. Didn't have the luxury of indulging a bout of self-pity.
Looking up at her father, she studied his perplexed expression and realized that she hadn't been entirely fair to him, either. After all, if she'd never stood up and demanded that he take notice of her … the real her … then how could she be angry that he hadn't?
"This isn't all your fault, Dad," she said, nodding to herself. "I gave up my dreams because it was easier to be what you needed me to be."
"Your dreams? You mean teaching?"
"Yes," she said, reaching out to lay one hand on her father's arm.
"You couldn't have earned a decent living on a teacher's salary," he reminded her.
She smiled and shook her head. "That all depends on what your idea of decent is, doesn't it?" She looked up at him and silently admitted that she'd blamed him too long for the things that had gone wrong in her life. If she wanted a new start, a new life, then she would have to go out and make it on her own. "I love you, Dad," she said, watching him closely enough that she caught the flicker of emotion in his eyes and was pleased. "But I can't be just your daughter anymore. I have to find a place for myself."
He studied the ash tip of his cigar for a moment or two, then asked, "With him?"
"Oh, yes."
"Humph. Well, the man's got guts, I give him that."
"Stood right up to me and called me on my own carpet."
"I know." She smiled. "Pretty impressive, huh?"
"Yes," he said, reaching for her and pulling her close for a hug. "But not as impressive as my daughter."
Lisa closed her eyes, wrapped her arms around his middle and hung on, savoring the sweetness of this one perfect moment. Amazing what a little honesty could do for a person.
"I do love you, honey," he said, his voice soft as a caress. "I always have."
"I know that, Dad." But, oh, how good it was to hear the words.
He gave her a pat, cleared his throat, then leaned back to look down at her. "So. Just how do you plan on convincing that man to see things your way?"
Oh, she had some very definite ideas on that. But they weren't plans she felt comfortable sharing with her father. So rather than go into specifics, all she said was, "Trust me, Dad. I'll make him an offer he can't refuse."
* * *
The ache in his chest would go away eventually. Twenty or thirty years ought to take care of it. Travis scowled at the man in the mirror and snatched up his shaving kit. Stomping back into the bedroom, he shoved the kit into his duffel, then tossed the whole bag onto the nearest chair. It hit with a thud, which did nothing to ease the tension clawing at his insides.
"Nice job, Travis. Tell her father off, then leave her to deal with the mess." Yeah, he'd handled that really well. Shaking his head in disgust, he paced the room like a prisoner on death row looking for a chink in his cage.
But there wasn't one.
He kept seeing her face when he'd said goodbye.
Pain. It had shimmered over her, through her and then reached its grasping hands out for him. The bite of her pain was still stronger than his. His back teeth grou
nd together, he shook his head in an attempt to dislodge that last portrait of her, and walked to the window. Throwing it open, he leaned into the wind, feeling its full force.
She'd get over it, he told himself firmly. Hadn't she been engaged five times already? Yes, a voice inside whispered. But then it reminded him that she'd been a virgin until that sun-filled morning with him at the oasis. She'd waited. For him. For love. Just as she would wait again.
And one day … she'd find love again. Then someone else would touch her as Travis had. Someone else would swallow her gasps and lose himself in her eyes. And that knowledge ripped what was left of his heart from his chest.
He closed his eyes against the starry sky and saw her in memory, her naked body dappled with the shade of the palm trees. His body tightened, his mind drifted back and he could almost feel her skin beneath his hands. The warm smoothness of her. The silky slide of his callused palms across her flesh. His mouth went dry, and he knew that if he tried, he could still taste her on his lips.
But why up the torture level? He scrubbed both hands across his face as if he could somehow wipe away his thoughts.
A knock on the door brought him lurching around to glare at the intrusion. Vowing to get rid of whoever was standing on the other side of that door, he stalked across the room, yanked it open and snarled, "What?"
"Ah, you've missed me," Lisa said, and pushed past him into the room.
His breath caught hard in his chest like a cold ball of lead. "Go home, Lisa."
"What would you say if I said I was home?"
"I'd say you're nuts. This is a hotel."
"I meant, being here with you."
"I know what you meant and you're wrong."
"Am I?" She turned around to look at him.
She'd changed out of that party dress, but this outfit was just as alluring. A sleeveless top scooped low at the neck and clung to her breasts before skimming her rib cage and disappearing beneath the waist of her skirt. And the hem of that short, tight black skirt stopped at midthigh, exposing her shapely, stocking-clad legs to full advantage.
She wore high, spindly heels that made him wonder how she could keep her balance, and when she cocked her right hip, he watched the muscles in her legs shift with mouthwatering fascination.
Oh, he was in for a hard time now.
Still, he called on years of Marine training to shut off his emotions and focus on the job at hand. And that job was getting her the hell out of his room before he did something stupid like make love to her again.
"Yeah," he said tightly, "you're wrong. You don't belong with me. So, do us both a favor and go home. Find yourself fiancé number six somewhere else."
She blanched, and he gave himself a solid mental kick. But being kind wasn't going to get rid of her, and damn it, she had to go.
"I thought you understood. About my engagements," she said. "You told my father—"
"I do understand," he said, despite his better judgment. He wouldn't hurt her any more than he absolutely had to. "But you have to understand something, too. I can't be who you want me to be."
"And who's that?" she asked, folding her arms beneath her breasts and pushing them up until he saw the tops of them rising just above that scoop-necked blouse.
He swallowed hard. "The man you need. A man who's comfortable at a party like the one tonight."
"If that's what I wanted, I would have married one of those five fiancés."
True, he told himself, but couldn't take comfort from it. Because it changed nothing. It fixed nothing.
"We're too different, Lisa."
"No, we're not."
"Hell, you could put my family's house inside your father's and still have room for the garage."
"Do you think I care about that?"
"I care."
"Then you're an idiot."
"So find yourself someone who's not."
"I don't want anyone else."
"Damn it, Lisa, don't make this harder than it has to be."
"Oh," she said, locking her gaze with his, "I'm going to make it a lot harder." Then, before he knew it, she was peeling that blouse up, up and off.
His heart hammered in his chest. His body went on full alert. "What do you think you're doing?"
"I think," she said, "I'm seducing you."
Next came the bra. She undid the front clasp, and his mouth went dry as she shrugged out of the lemon-yellow silk, baring her breasts to him. Her nipples peaked, and all he could think of was tasting them, suckling them, drawing them deeper and deeper into his mouth until she was writhing beneath him, begging him for the release only he could give her.
But he couldn't. Could he?
She reached around to her back, slid the zipper on her skirt down, then let the damn thing fall to the floor. His heart stopped.
Flat-out stopped.
She wasn't wearing underwear, heaven help him. Just a slim black garter belt that rode her hips, slid low across her abdomen and held up the stockings that clung to her upper thighs.
Travis felt sweat break out on his forehead. He reached up, rubbed one hand across the back of his neck and reminded himself to breathe. But he knew if he could just get his hands on her, he wouldn't even need to breathe. Lisa. All he needed was Lisa. Damn it. His entire body seemed to be pulsing to a throbbing need that was crouched low inside him, waiting to pounce. When he thought he could speak again, he lifted his gaze to hers and lied as best he could. "This isn't working."
She smiled, a slow, knowing smile that women have been giving men for centuries. Then her gaze dropped to his crotch. "Seems to be working fine."
Caught by his own body's reaction to her. He exhaled heavily, narrowed his gaze on her and said, "Think you're pretty smart, don't you?"
"Hmm." She planted her hands at her hips and—the only word for it—sashayed toward him. Then she reached out with one hand and let her fingertips slide down his chest, scraping against the fabric of his T-shirt. "As a matter of fact, yes. I guess I do."
He could smell her. Her perfume swam in his head until his thoughts were nothing but a blur of need and hunger. He'd have to be a dead ma not to respond to her. And he sure as hell wasn't dead. One more night, he thought. One more night with her. Was that so much to ask?
Travis grabbed her. One arm snaking out to wrap around her waist, he yanked her to him and held her tight against him.
"Travis…"
"I want you bad," he muttered, sliding one hand up her body to cup one breast. His thumb and forefinger tweaked her nipple, and when she shivered, he felt as though he'd just been awarded a medal.
"You can have me," she said, tipping her head back to look him dead in the eye. "That's what I've been trying to tell you. We can have each other. We can have it all."
"Don't want it all," he murmured, lowering his head to hers. "Just want you."
And then he kissed her and felt everything else fall away. Nothing, no one, was more important than this moment. She wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him. And still it wasn't enough. He needed to feel her. Be a part of her. Slide himself so deeply into her that even apart they would be together. Dropping his hands to her bottom, he lifted her, and she wound her legs around his middle.
Hunger roared inside him, demanding to be fed and he surrendered to it. Thoughts, desires, emotions clamored in his brain but all he could focus on was the feel of her. He slid one hand farther along her body and touched her damp heat.
She jolted in his grasp, but he held her tightly. Taking her mouth with his, he savored the taste of her, the glory of her, while his hands explored her secrets and drove her along the high road to passion. She twisted in his grasp, moving into his touch, trying to take more of him inside her.
His tongue entwined with hers, tasting, taking, giving. She moaned gently and broke the kiss, letting her head fall back, allowing him access to her throat. She arched into him, pressing her breasts to his chest, moving her hips in time with his touch and sighing when his teeth nipped
at the base of her neck.
"I love you, Travis," she whispered, and the words shot into his heart with the accuracy of a sniper's bullet.
Breathing hard, he lifted his head, looked directly into her eyes and admitted, "I love you, Lisa. Too damn much."
She smiled. "It's never enough, Travis. I'll never have enough of you. Be with me. Be inside me."
Man, he wanted that more than anything, but he still didn't have any protection. But then why should he? He'd planned on being all noble.
As if she could read his mind, she smiled, reared back in his arms and slowly, tauntingly, slid one hand down her body. Like a lover, she touched herself, skimming her fingertips across her breasts, along her rib cage, to the edge of that garter belt.
His throat closed up just watching. "What're you…"
She slipped her fingertips beneath the black lace belt and when she pulled them free, she was holding two small, foil packages.
His heartbeat thundered. "Two, huh? You were pretty sure of yourself."
"Uh-uh," she said, shaking her head. "Sure of you."
He nodded, grabbed the condoms from her and then dropped her unceremoniously onto the bed. Laughing, she bounced on the mattress and watched him as he quickly stripped off his clothes. Then he ripped open the small package, fit the condom to himself and joined her.
Lisa smiled up at him and said, "Give me a minute and I'll get these heels and stockings off."
"Leave 'em on," he ordered, and dipped his head to take first one nipple then the other into his mouth.
She cried out and moved into him, offering herself up to his ministrations. Pleasure, deep, soul-satisfying pleasure rushed through her, and she sighed and gave in to it. Her mind blanked out. All she could think of, all she could feel, was Travis. Now. Always. She couldn't lose him. Not after this. Not when they were so clearly meant for each other.
He touched her, dipping one finger into her heat, and Lisa's hips lifted. That slow, deep tickle built within and she fostered it, moving into his touch, trailing her hands up and down his back. She wanted him. Needed him.
THE MARINE & THE DEBUTANTE Page 10