She taunted, “Perhaps. You are a throwback from that type of man and age. Is that why you wanted the manuscript? I could offer you the next one,” she mockingly ventured.
Her words amazed him. When he did not release her, she sneered, “I thought you were finished with me! I can’t give it to you, and it isn’t about you or us. What more do you want?”
“Research, Brandy love . . . Research for Devil Incognito,” he murmured huskily. His embrace tightened. He watched panic fill her lucid, wide eyes. His lips came down upon hers in a demanding, bruising kiss. His mouth forced hers apart. Instantly, the kiss softened and seared her mind. It ordered her to respond; it stripped away all resistance. She trembled in his warm embrace.
She desperately wanted to resist him and the powerful invasion of her senses. She could not. She swayed against him. She failed to note his release of her arms or to notice how they had helplessly slipped around his narrow waist. There was no end to that kiss or a beginning to the next one; they all mingled into one endless kiss which tore away her will and reality.
Soft, romantic music came from somewhere far away. She shuddered as his lips blazed a fiery path across her cheeks and inflamed her senses as he softly whispered into her eager ear. As his lips leisurely traveled her throat and shoulders, her head fell backwards, and a soft moan escaped her throat. His mouth nipped at her golden shoulders and at her dainty earlobes, sending chills over her weakened body.
She murmured his name time and time again. She was like putty in the hands of a master artist. She had no will of her own or any ability to control herself or him. For the first time in her life, she wanted a man completely and instantly.
Shrill laughter invaded her dream world, rudely jerking her back to reality. There was a drunken couple racing towards the lake, laughing and shouting loudly. Her senses slowly returned. His gaze glued to the fires of passion within her emerald eyes. They slowly drifted to the rapid rise and fall of her bosom. He noted the helpless tremblings of her slender body as she fought to regain some measure of control over her unleashed emotions, yet not seeming to know how. At his close scrutiny, her face flamed red in shame and resentment.
She panted sharply, “You’ve made your point, Mephistopheles! This book should interest you far more than the other one.”
He chuckled in pleasure at his distressing effect upon her, for no one could claim she was not interested in men . . . “If I could help you write it . . .”
“You arrogant, hateful devil! You’re the last man to intrigue me in that way,” she hotly declared, her impassioned aura loudly belying her words. “Where do you get such crazy ideas?”
“Something tells me that isn’t quite true, Brandy. I wonder what it could be that makes me think you’re being dishonest,” he casually remarked, rubbing his smooth jawline with his left hand. “Let’s see . . . You spurn my advances; you resist my touch and kisses; I have no effect on you at all. Tell me, love, is it too difficult or impossible to prove that story a lie? You could very easily do so, couldn’t you?” he challenged, eager for this new role.
She swallowed hard. “You can’t be suggesting what I think you are! No trade, Winngate!” she nearly shouted at him, her pulse racing wildly at such an intoxicating arrangement.
“Is it impossible, Brandy love? You’ve written such a scene many times: handsome, ruthless lover seduces the innocent, vulnerable heroine . . . Cue me with the proper lines and actions to terminate this scene exactly where we both want it to end. Unless I’m badly mistaken, you’re just as attracted to me as I am to you. Isn’t that right?” If she wanted accurate research, he would gladly oblige her.
She flushed a deep scarlet before she could conceal her face by lowering her head. His amused laughter sliced her ravaged heart without mercy. “Well, well. How does it feel to be caught in your own trap, love? To be researched instead of to research? You make a lovely specimen under glass, Brandy. You realize I have the power and means to break it or to polish it? Admit it—you want me as much as I want you.” She had instigated their encounter; why was she being so coy and reluctant now that he was baited and hooked?
She didn’t verbally answer him, but her reaction spoke loudly. Terrified by the truth of his words and tormented by his virulent spite, she murmured, “I can’t offer you Valley or my services, Steven. I’ll see you in court,” she vowed and hurried off before he could stop her.
He sighed heavily. Too many facts didn’t add up right. In addition, others were being logically explained or being reduced to false impressions. She had done nothing to directly offend him or to publicly exploit him. Why was Brandy such a heady challenge, one he couldn’t master, one which infused him with determination, one which could conquer him if he allowed it, one which scared the hell out of him?
When Steven returned to the ballroom, he was astonished to see her calmly dancing with Nigel Davis. In her agitated state of mind, he had assumed she would quickly vanish once again. He headed for the totally unpredictable female. Camille, clad in her Egyptian style gown, tried to halt his steady progress and to prevent his clear intention, but he simply moved her aside. His eyes never left Brandy’s golden mane and ivory gown as he moved across the floor like some graceful, black panther intently stalking his vulnerable prey.
He tapped Nigel upon the shoulder and smoothly slid between them before either of them could argue. He whirled her away from the shocked singer. When she threatened to stomp his foot or to slap his smug face, he flashed her an engaging grin and warned her of the terrible scene it would make—a scandal for the morning papers to report.
Trapped within the warm and protective confines of his arms, she could only obey his whims. Her small hand was icy cold within his large warm one. He laid his taut jawline against her temple. He held her tightly and securely, denying her the chance to steal away during one of their turns. She mischievously decided to turn on the charm and throw him off-balance. This conceited ass needed a stunning lesson!
“Your hands are mighty soft for a horse breeder,” he murmured. He inhaled a fragrance which sent his mind to reeling and to planning.
“The miracles of expensive hand creams and trusty helpers,” she replied sweetly, deciding two could play at his mocking game. She boldly caressed his sun-bronzed cheek with one of those soft hands. Flames danced within his fiery blue eyes. His hold upon her tightened. She moistened her dry lips in a most inviting and flirtatious manner.
“Don’t tempt the devil to claim his due in public,” he warned in a husky tone. His lips pressed a light kiss on her forehead before he returned his jaw to her fragrant temple. “You smell delicious.”
“What is your due, Sir Lucifer? Wasn’t the new motorcycle sufficient reward for my life?” she asked in a voice of soft velvet.
He looked down at her. “I think not, Brandy. Like your namesake, you promise fire and enjoyment to someone who can afford your expensive and rare brand. You’d be good on a cold winter’s night or when the body and spirit were lagging. Can you intoxicate a man beyond his control?” His tone was such that she trembled. He grinned.
“Can you afford my price and effect, Sir Demon? As for intoxicating a man beyond control, evidently you’re immune to my potency. What about my other name, Kat? Shall I claw out your black heart, Sir Demon? Shall I shred your handsome face and deny you your magic and charm? Shall I become just as cunning and destructive as the devil himself? I’ve tried to make amends for causing you such trouble, but you clearly dislike and repel me. Which facet do you prefer: warm, golden Brandy or precarious tawny Kat?” she purred, thrilled by the astonishment on his face.
“Being a connoisseur, why can’t I sample both?”
Their eyes forged in fiery speculation. “I’ve already supplied you with one daring adventure. Care to risk or claim another?” he hinted.
Brandy saw Camille heading in their direction, eyes blazing with anger an
d embarrassment at being ignored by her envious date. Brandy smiled mischievously, then offered, “Whichever you’re due, Lance. Later though. Your Camille is on the warpath, my love.”
There was some meaning behind her choice of names and the silky way she had spoken it. Their eyes fused in mutual study. Camille seized his arm and softly spewed forth her displeasure with them, reminding him in no uncertain terms that he was her date. Her furious gaze challenged Brandy to deny her prior claim on Steven.
Recalling how this vile woman had degraded her not so very long ago, a reckless Brandy sent him a dazzling, apologetic smile. Her hand went up to leisurely fondle his chest as she seductively murmured, “Halftime, my dashing knight. The game plan calls for a defensive withdrawal to form a new strategy . . .” She turned and glided away from him, unaware of the effect of her words and mood upon him.
Brandy grinned happily, thinking she had finally gotten in the last point in their game of wits. At the archway to the next room, she paused and glanced back into the room. Her smile faded instantly as she observed the retreating backs of Steven and that spiteful Camille as they headed for the moonlit, rose-lined terrace. His back to Brandy, she could not know of the black fury which was furrowing his handsome features at the dauntless and unwanted interference by the spoiled woman upon his arm. Another game lost . . .
Brandy was mistaken if she believed Steven wouldn’t take the bait she had brazenly offered him. After the party, she returned to her hotel suite and took a long, relaxing bath. Deciding to make some notes on the sights and feelings of this special night, she slipped into a silky caftan and sat down at the table. She glanced towards her door when someone knocked on it. She wondered who would come calling at two in the morning; probably the wrong room. She tried to ignore it, but the persistent person wouldn’t leave.
Chapter Six
Brandy anxiously called out, “Who’s there?”
She was stunned when a mellow voice announced, “It’s me, Steven. I need to talk with you.”
“Do you know what time it is? What do you want?” she asked frostily.
“It’s three o’clock, but I have to settle something tonight,” he pressed, leaning against the door. “May I come in?”
“You and I have nothing to say, Mr. Winngate. Besides, it’s late,” she responded, knowing she didn’t dare confront him again tonight.
“I’m not leaving until we talk, Brandy, face to face,” he warned stubbornly, persistently.
“No. You’ve made yourself perfectly clear; so have I,” she refused apprehensively. Why wouldn’t he leave her alone?
“If you want, I can get awfully loud. We don’t want a scene, do we?” he challenged ominously.
Brandy opened the door a crack. “What is it?” she demanded.
“Obviously we’ve had a terrible misunderstanding, Brandy. I think it’s time we cleared up some matters between us,” he insisted, pushing the door open and walking inside.
Brandy whirled to look at him. The self-assured man strolled over to the window and stared outside, calmly waiting for her to join him. “Just what do you want?” she asked, the door still open as if she feared to close it, to seal them in a world of intimidating privacy.
“First, we need to discuss the Glitter article,” he began, turning to watch her. “Then us.”
That remark seized her attention. Had he changed his mind? Had she judged him too quickly and too harshly? She sighed wearily and closed the door. She came forward, halting a few feet from him, eyeing him skeptically. “What about the article?”
“Nigel tells me I’ve misjudged you. Is that true?” he almost demanded, stunning her with the insinuation in his voice. His gaze drilled into hers, as if to forcefully open it to his scrutiny.
“What difference does that make?” she asked, confused and intrigued. She had a fairly accurate picture of his opinion of her.
“It makes a hell of a difference to me!” he thundered into the quiet room. He shoved the tumbling lock off his forehead, his eyes daring her to lie.
“Yes, you have. You’ve done nothing but embarrass me and deceive me. I didn’t know your real name, and I didn’t know about your connection with Glitter. I have no intentions of exploiting you in any form or fashion, professionally or personally. What other charges are leveled against me?” she sarcastically snapped, ready and eager to open this can of worms and empty it on the table.
“Why did you conceal your identity? Why intentionally mislead me?” he accused, his towering frame taut with some unknown emotion. “Were you afraid I’d make demands on you for saving your lovely neck?”
“I didn’t mislead you. I am Kathy Alexander. If anyone lied, it was you!” she said, distressed by this crazy scene. “Did you set up that accident so you could rescue me?” she purred. “I’d think you were saturated with females!”
“Did I what?” he asked incredulously. “Are you nuts, woman?”
“It’s awfully strange that you, of all men, would be the one to save my life,” she hinted meaningfully.
“That was my exact thought,” he retorted, coming to stand within inches of her. “I’ve endured some wild accidental meetings, but yours tops them all. Were you hoping I’d halt the article if you enchanted me? Do you always go to such lengths for accurate research?”
Her eyes grew wide with unleashed anger. “You can’t honestly think I arranged that accident to meet you!” she fired in disbelief.
“Didn’t you?” he challenged, a bedeviling grin capturing his mouth and eyes.
“Don’t be insane!” she shouted at him. “I wouldn’t risk my life for anything. How could I possibly know you would happen along?”
“Not even to meet the man who held the power to save your reputation and career?” he added, watching her closely.
“I do want that article halted, but not at any cost. Besides, I didn’t know you owned Glitter. I didn’t know who you were until Nigel told me at Lido’s!” she stressed. “Just what are you after? More dirt to include? Damn you, it was an accident, nothing more. If you dare use it for sensational publicity, I’ll sue you for every dime you have,” she warned. “Did you have a camera that day?”
He realized she was serious—serious and worried. “You really didn’t know who I was, did you?” he pressed, convinced.
“I swear it,” she stated, eyes clouded with nervous tears.
“Then why didn’t you tell me who you were?” he returned to his prior question. “You must admit I had reason to be suspicious.”
“You know why. For the same reason you fiercely guard your name and identity. I have enough problems with men because of my romance writing. I don’t like to give strangers any ideas. I don’t care how it looks or what you think. I don’t want anything from you, Lance,” she vowed, but her eyes told a different story.
“Don’t you, Brandy?” he asked, closing the short distance between them. When she started to retreat, he caught her shoulders and halted her. “I’d have to be a damn fool not to realize what’s happening between us. What I don’t understand is why we keep fighting it. You see it too. You know why we’re both being so damn defensive, don’t you?” His head lowered and his mouth closed over hers.
The kiss shattered her anger and resistance. He pulled her into his arms and held her tightly. Her senses began to spin wildly, for she had never been kissed in such an all-consuming manner before. His mouth was demanding and stimulating. The gently exploratory kiss deepened to one of urgent need. Brandy trembled within his possessive embrace, and her arms eased around his waist. She responded passionately to the hunger of his mouth and to the yearnings which plagued her body.
After several kisses which vanquished her will, Steven leaned back and gazed down into those limpid pools of green. “I want you, Brandy, and I’m tired of fighting it,” he murmured hoarsely, the intense need in his voice matc
hing the desire written in his eyes. “Ever since that morning in your hospital room, I haven’t been able to concentrate on anything but you. For some insane reason, we keep cutting each other to ribbons. I’ve been rude and mean, and I’m sorry. I was wrong, Brandy, terribly wrong,” he confessed. “Forgive me?”
Brandy couldn’t pull her eyes from his or think clearly. She was past fighting this overwhelming attraction between them, as was Steven. So many emotions were demanding to be freed, so much of the unknown struggling to be explored and understood. She couldn’t think of any reason to refuse what they both wanted and needed—each other. She didn’t speak, but Steven comprehended her willingness and eagerness. His lips captured hers once more, and he lifted her and carried her to the bed. Brandy didn’t refuse or argue.
Fires of passion burned brightly and dangerously as Steven assailed her senses with staggering kisses. When he eased the caftan off her shoulder and allowed his tongue to circle a taut peak, she shuddered and moaned. As his fiery lips left one to torment the other, Brandy thought she would go mad with overpowering need for him.
As Steven continued his tantalizing journey over her body with seeking lips and probing hands, she thrilled to the wonder of his expertise. Insecurity flooded her. Steven was accustomed to women who were well-versed in seduction. She didn’t even know what to say or how to behave.
When she tried to pull away, Steven gazed down at her frightened face. “What’s wrong, love?” be asked tenderly, hoarsely.
“I—” she began and halted. She weakly went on, “We can’t, Lance. We just met.”
“It’s too late to stop now, Brandy,” he informed her, his eyes melting into hers, comprehending the war between desire and panic.
Brandy knew he was right. “But—” she began once more.
“But what, Brandy?” he asked, his gaze imploring and gentle. He dropped little kisses over her eyes, then claimed her ears. His hands enticed her mind to forget all else except him, which she did. “You want me,” he stated, rather than asked.
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