She met his entreating gaze and whispered, “Yes, I want you, Steven.” She couldn’t deny it or fight it any longer. Emotions as old as time itself would brand her a liar and a fool if she tried. Whatever the cost, she must have the man who brought her dreams to vivid life.
When Steven slackened his pace to undress them, he was keenly aware of the flush upon her cheeks and the way she avoided his eyes. Suddenly her hesitation and fear struck home. Would this be her first time? How was that possible? Steven wondered how he should handle this dangerous situation, if his assumption was correct. There was a warning bell sounding loudly within his head. “Have you ever made love to a man before?” he asked unexpectedly.
“What?” she stammered in confusion, her cheeks burning.
“You heard me, Brandy,” he stated sternly.
“No,” the shaky voice answered so softly that he just barely heard her shocking admission. “Does that matter?” she asked naively.
She was yielding to him what she had refused all other men. The weight of that responsibility stormed his warring senses. If she was willing to surrender to him, what did that mean? The answer to that question disturbed him greatly. Brandy wasn’t like the other women he had known and taken lightly. She was different, special. Could he bind her to him by taking her today, for surely he would? Did he want to? He was a carefree bachelor. He could take women and leave them, without guilt or commitments. But Brandy—could he take her and leave her? Yet, could he take her and keep her? Something about this female troubled him. Damn, he wanted her; but he would be damned for certain if he took her! Brandy was the type to expect some commitment in return . . .
“Steven?” she entreated. “Does it matter that I’ve never . . . I mean, I know you’re used to women who know what to say and do in situations like this. I . . .” She faltered and fell silent.
“Do you realize what you’re doing?” he asked, almost wishing she would change her mind, praying she wouldn’t.
“No,” she admitted with a nervous laugh. “But I assume you do.”
He chuckled. “Frankly, I’ve never been with any woman on her first time. I’ve heard it can be . . . uncomfortable. I wouldn’t want to hurt you, Brandy, or spoil such a moment for you.”
She eyed him closely. He was actually worried about disappointing her. That show of insecurity and concern warmed her very soul. She smiled, then laced her fingers through his sable hair and pulled his head down to fuse their lips. When the kiss ended, she gazed up into his eyes and murmured, “I want you, Steven, more than I’ve wanted anything in my life. Love me,” she pleaded softly, without reservation or modesty.
“Are you sure, Brandy?” he forced her to admit.
“Yes. You’ve tempted me and tormented me for ages. I want you,” she stated with determination and confidence.
He was assured she knew what she was doing, but did he? No matter, he couldn’t refuse either of them. His mouth claimed hers. As a talented musician, he played on the strings of her body, creating a heady melody, music which was mesmerizing and stirring.
Deft hands tantalized and stimulated her pliant body, admiring her beauty and softness. He seductively ravished her lips and breasts, inspiring soft moans and eager responses. His hand slid over her flat stomach to explore a tawny forest and torment her senses. When he felt she was ready to challenge and conquer the unknown, he moved above her, gliding between her welcoming thighs.
He hoped it was true that one persistent thrust was best for her. He positioned himself and as tenderly as possible entered her receptive body. She stiffened briefly and inhaled sharply, then relaxed. He moved slowly and carefully, intensely aware of the throbbing within him, an aching need which selfishly demanded instant relief.
After a few moments, he leaned back and asked, “Are you all right, Brandy?”
She smiled and nodded. He grinned happily and captured her parted lips with his. The tension and pleasure increased. He was hard pressed to control himself, but managed to do so. He didn’t realize she was so close to ecstasy until her grip tightened around him and she kissed him feverishly. His rhythm increased as he forced her over the edge of reality and completion, then hastily joined her on the downward spiral they had just conquered.
He continued to spread kisses over her face and lips until his thudding heart slowed to normal, then pulled her tightly against his sated body. He chuckled when she laughed and stated, “I was right. You are very talented in this area, Steven.”
“I take it I didn’t disappoint you,” he teased, stroking the warm flesh on her back, nuzzling against her fragrant hair.
She leaned her head back and bravely met his contented gaze. “If anything, Mr. Winngate, you utterly amazed me. I know this sounds like a line from one of my books, but I didn’t know it could be like this. To quote one of my heroines, ‘You are magnificent, utterly irresistible.’ Now I understand why you’re in such demand,” she joked lightly, feeling relaxed and enchanted.
“I’d like to be in demand by you, if that’s possible,” he hinted slyly, flashing her a beguiling grin, pleased that her innocence was real.
“Why?” she foolishly asked. “I’m not your usual type.”
“That’s my point. You’re refreshing and exciting, Brandy. There’s something special about you. You’re so many things rolled into one neat package. You’re as complex as you are simple. You’re as carefree as you are reserved. You’re fragile and strong. You’re a damn contradiction, woman,” he concluded with a frustrated laugh.
“A mystery to hold your interest, Mr. Winngate?” she playfully teased, caressing his cheek, then running her finger over his lips. “I’m really a very plain and uncomplicated person.”
“There’s nothing plain, or simple, or uncomplicated about you, Brandy,” he debated. “I think I’ll enjoy unraveling you.”
“I’m a challenge, is that it?” she retorted, gently tugging a lock of ebony hair.
“Damn right, you are,” he came back instantly.
“Good. Then you won’t be bored too soon.”
“Bored?” he echoed mockingly. “If you have as many secrets and facets as your countless heroines, I’ll never discover the real you.”
That statement hit Brandy like ice water in the face. She tensed. “You’ve read my books?” she asked guardedly.
“All of them, some twice. You’re damn good. Did I forget to tell you that? You know what I found intriguing?” he inquired.
“What?” she responded warily, dreading his reply.
“Writers always claim they aren’t their characters, but you can’t. The more I get to know you, the more qualities and traits I see you sharing with them. Fess up, Brandy. There’s a part of you in each one,” he declared, mischievously.
“I suppose writers do give traits to their characters which they like or possess. Which of my heroines tempts you the most? Which would you like me to be for you?” she asked, her tone angry and sullen.
Steven realized he had struck a raw nerve. He was doing what she hated men to do, placing her in a fictional role. “I didn’t mean it like that, Brandy. I was referring to traits like shyness, sensitivity, innocence, honesty . . . If I offended you or upset you, I’m sorry. I wasn’t analyzing you through your works.”
She stared at him. “I suppose I do give them qualities I wish I had. I would love to be carefree and daring sometimes. I’d like to be confident in situations like this one. You know something weird and incredible? You’re the first real man I’ve ever met. And yet, you’re so much like my creations that it scares the hell out of me.”
“There’s one big difference, Brandy—I’m real and they’re not. Is that why you’ve been fighting this attraction between us? Are you afraid I’ll behave like they do, or do you fear I won’t? What do you want from me, Brandy?” he asked, a look of utter seriousness on his face.
/> “Only you, Lance, just as you are,” she replied candidly.
“I’m not Lance, Brandy,” he stated meaningfully.
“Aren’t you?” she debated, wondering at his underlying point.
“Lance is a fictional creation, just like your heroes. I’m Steven, nothing more or less.”
“I feel as if I walked into a theater in the middle of a mystery movie. I don’t understand. Who are you, Steven?”
“Only a man, Brandy, a red-blooded, real man.”
Her confusion increased. “You’re not just a man, Steven.”
A curious sadness filled his eyes. “That’s the problem, Brandy—you see me as more, and I’m not. I’m not even sure you’re separating fantasy and reality. I’m not your hero, Brandy.”
“I didn’t say you were,” she vowed in exasperation. “I know the difference between fiction and reality.”
“Do you? Our meeting could have come off the pages of one of your books. You’ve already said I was just like your creations.”
Brandy couldn’t argue that last point, but she knew she could never make him understand. Maybe she was experiencing some magical mixture of both worlds. But it wasn’t of her doing. She tried to lighten the gravity of their mood. She laughed and teased, “Your wild imagination beats even mine, Steven. I take it you’ve never met a writer before? Sure, we draw from our own experience and knowledge. But there is a definite line between reality and fantasy, one I recognize and respect. I’m not trying to place you in any role. I like you just as you are. I don’t understand your concerns.”
Steven had to unmask one point which plagued him. “Your stories always end happily ever after. What do you expect from me after this?” he asked, sweeping his hand over their still entwined bodies.
“Now I understand,” she stated thoughtfully. “You’re afraid I’ll misread your intentions? You’re worried I might make demands on your time and energies, expect some commitment from you?” She wisely didn’t add, Just like a hero, always defensive when he comes to protecting his freedom. Brandy almost felt as if she had lived this scene many times before. Think, she warned herself. Think before you screw up! In light of his worries, she scolded herself for speaking like an historical heroine half the time, but it came so naturally for a Southern girl, especially a romance writer.
She reached up to caress his cheek. “I realize this is something new for me, Steven, but I don’t expect anything from you. You wanted me, and I wanted you. You didn’t seduce me or ravish me. I’m a grown woman, and this isn’t the middle ages. I can’t help it if I see you as a very special and unusual man. I don’t mean to intimidate or unsettle you. I won’t pressure you or hotly pursue you. For one thing, I don’t have the time. When I get home, I’ll be confined to my office until my next book’s finished. Rest assured, we won’t even be accidentally running into each other anytime soon. If you want to see me again, I’m willing. If not . . .” She left that sentence hanging.
“Look, Brandy, I know I’ve been obnoxious to you since we met. But I’ve explained my reasons and apologized. Maybe I am too damn cynical, but I believe what you said. We could have avoided some of our mix-ups if we’d dared to speak honestly. Stupid ego-trips!”
“I said I understood why you treated me so badly. Our meeting was a crazy coincidence, nothing more. Why can’t we forget it? Why not relax and enjoy this truce? It could be ages before we see each other again,” she announced to calm his worries.
“I thought you came to New York frequently on business,” he said.
“I do, on occasion. But I doubt we’ll be here the same time.”
“What about when you sue me for libel?” he asked solemnly.
“When I what?” she inquired in astonishment.
“I can’t halt the article, Brandy. I make it a policy not to interfere in businesses I own and don’t personally run,” he tested her.
“You mean you won’t even try to prevent it from being published? It’s your company! What about tonight?” she cried at him. “You can make love to me, then destroy me? What kind of man are you?”
“I can only promise to intervene, Brandy, but not override their decision. The story obviously isn’t true. You proved that.”
“Proved it?” she sneered at the sound of the implication. “I wasn’t trying to prove anything! My God, is sex always this demanding and complicated? No wonder I haven’t gotten tangled up with a man before. You’re all selfish idiots. Damn you, Steven Winngate!” Brandy sat up in the bed and pulled the sheet up to cover her breasts. “Just get the hell out of my room and life! Your head’s too screwed up to see anything. If anyone’s functioning in a fantasy world, it’s you.”
“Me?” he stormed back at her.
“Yes, you. You don’t even know what real emotions are. You’re so hung up on thinking everybody wants something from you. You’re selfish and egotistical. You’ve proven you’re irresistible. I’m no threat to your precious freedom. I don’t crave your name, or your money, or your lofty status. I have more than enough of my own. I don’t even care about that stupid article anymore. If anyone doubts me, I can certainly prove them wrong!”
“You wouldn’t dare,” he snarled angrily, her meaning clear.
“Try me,” she challenged. “I’ll make you and your sleazy magazine look like fools.”
He glared at her. “If you dare start acting like a slut to discredit that story, I’ll . . .”
“You’ll what, Mr. Winngate?” she taunted.
“I’ll become more like one of your ruthless heroes than you can even imagine. I told you I’d try to crush the story.”
“You’ve certainly been paid a high price for your assistance. That is what you think, isn’t it? Is that why you came here tonight? To see if I would bribe you? To see if I was immune? Well, you’re sadly mistaken. I slept with you for one reason only. I wanted you.”
Her fury astounded him. “No, Brandy, I didn’t come for any of those reasons. Why are we attacking each other again? This is crazy!”
“No, Steven, this is reality,” she scoffed. “If I tried to explain, you wouldn’t understand. Let’s just leave it at that—we’re both different, and we find that trait intimidating in each other. We both want something we don’t understand. It frightens us to find another person so tempting and pleasing, and we fiercely rebel against that confusing fear and against changes which the other implies. We don’t want to let go, but we’re afraid to demand or to even want more.”
“Maybe you’re right, Brandy, maybe we are a threat to each other. You tempt me to outrageous lengths. I came because I wanted you, for no other reason. Other than to make peace. When will you be leaving? I seem to keep saying and doing the wrong things with you.”
“In a few days.” She couldn’t ask, Why?
He stood up and dressed. For once, Steven didn’t know what to say. Multimillion dollar deals were less complicated than this situation. He pulled out the insurance check and handed it to her. “This is yours. The insurance company paid for the bike.”
Brandy accepted the check and smiled. “Take care of yourself, Steven. Next time, let someone else rescue me.”
“I hope there won’t be a next time, Brandy. Promise you’ll be more careful in the future? You aren’t sorry about tonight, are you?”
Their gazes met and searched, each seeking an answer to what was going wrong again, why it was so hard to accept this gift from Fate.
Brandy realized Steven was overly concerned about his attraction to her. He was trying to view her as a novelty, a challenge to his ego, a debt she owed him, a passing fancy. Sadly, there was nothing she could do but let him work out his problems.
“You’re quite a woman, Brandy,” he whispered against her lips, then kissed her soundly. He held her tightly for a moment.
“Thanks. I have no regrets, Stev
en. Good night.”
“Good-bye, Brandy.” He slowly walked to the door and hesitated before leaving. Then he was gone.
Brandy snuggled into her cozy bed. “And you’re quite a man, Lance Reynolds,” she murmured, “one that I don’t plan to lose so easily.”
If Brandy had ever known in her life what she wanted, it was Steven Winngate. She warned herself to step lightly, for he was running scared. She looked at the check, one from his personal account. She smiled and shredded it. “It was worth every cent . . .”
Chapter Seven
Brandy opened the buff-colored envelope which had been delivered by the bell captain. She focused weary eyes upon the stunning message which was written in bold, beautiful script:
“If you’re serious about that new story and pictures for Glitter, meet me for lunch in the hotel restaurant at one o’clock. Accept my new terms, and the McGavin story will be permanently shelved or handed over to you. If you reject this generous offer, I can only assume the truth doesn’t really interest you.”
Naturally it was signed by Steven Winngate. She handed the summons to Casey, whose eyes also widened in astonishment. Casey glanced over at the mutinous look on Brandy’s face. “Are you going to meet him and hear him out?” she asked anxiously. “How did you like him the other night? Obviously you impressed him.”
“It’s pure and simple blackmail, Casey. I shouldn’t trust him for an instant!” Yet, her green eyes narrowed in feminine mischief and gleamed in anticipation. “What should I wear, Casey? I left my Joan of Arc outfit back home.” Even though Casey was a liberated free spirit, Brandy couldn’t confess the events of their night to her.
“Why not dazzle him, Brandy? From what I witnessed, he’s teetering on the edge of defeat now. Knock him over. That story can do a lot of damage to you. Its demise is worth a little flirtation.”
Flirtation, she mentally scoffed. “Me, bewitch Steven Winngate? He can have his choice of women. Why would he be interested in me? Camille Blanchard is his type, not plain Brandy Alexander.” Why had he waited for days before sending for her? What did this quicksilver man have in mind for them?
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