Desperate Measures

by Linda Cajio

  “I told you already!” Her head was pounding with the twin devils of fear and need. He was relentlessly pursuing her around the room, and the faster she dodged one way, the quicker he shifted the other. She didn’t know if she was managing to keep out of his reach … or if he was allowing her to. She tried again to persuade him to give up on her. “I have no interest in being involved with you. What’s between us is just a physical attraction, chemistry if you will, and that’s all it is.”

  “Really?” He shed his suit jacket and laid it over the back of a chair as he went by. His fingers began to work on his tie.

  “What the hell are you doing?” she demanded, stumbling over her feet. She caught her balance before she fell.

  “Getting physical.”

  “You can’t!” Her brain scrambled for a further protest as the tie joined the jacket. Instead her gaze was drawn to his hands flicking the open buttons of his shirt, revealing the swath of dark, silky hair on his chest.

  He smiled knowingly at her. “Yes, I can. Why not find out for sure if this is just some good old-fashioned lust? Or are you afraid to find out it’s not?”

  Stalking her again, he undid his cufflinks. She watched in fascination, her steps unconsciously slowing, as he peeled the shirt from his body and dropped it over a lamp. His shoulders were broad, and the hair on his upper chest arrowed down past his waistband, drawing the eye to the trimly muscled torso.

  Her mouth went dry. She wanted desperately to touch him. She knew she would be lost if she did. But it was more than physical, and she knew it. The thought terrified her.

  She ducked behind the sofa. “Joe, why can’t you just let it go? Just write me off as any other man would.”

  His hands stilled at his belt buckle and he stared at her. “But you’re not any other woman. And I’m not any other man. Chemistry is for labs, Ell. I’m in love with you.”

  “No!” She froze, the words swirling through her brain.

  He halted his pursuit. “That’s what you’re really afraid of, isn’t it? That’s what made you turn away as you have. Love. You love me.”

  It couldn’t be true, she thought dimly. It wasn’t possible. After her first marriage and the loss of her son, she should be immune to love. “I … I can’t.”

  “You can’t. Not you don’t.” He was directly across from her. He braced his hands on the sofa back and leaned forward. His eyes were blazing, forcing her to remain still. “Not you don’t, Ell. Say it.”

  She clamped her lips shut against a further giveaway. She couldn’t say it, wouldn’t acknowledge the truth. Their wrangling before had had an element of anticipation, but now she was being smothered by his demand. She raced for the door and escape. He was there before her, his arms embracing her. She knew she had been truly trapped.

  “Say it,” he demanded.

  “I love you,” she shouted. “Now let me go!”

  “Never.” His mouth found hers in a scorching kiss.

  When he finally lifted his head, she slumped against him in defeat. The warmth of his bare skin against her cheek was like a drug she craved. The musk of cologne and male enveloped her senses. She hated herself for being weak.

  “I’m not good enough for you,” she whispered, remembering the looks of disapproval from his mother and aunts. “I never will be, and I won’t do that to you.”

  “Nobody is finer than you, Ellen Kitteridge,” he said, stroking her hair. “Nobody.”

  His lips found hers again. She was pressed along the length of his body, aware of every inch of him. Potent need was suddenly pounding through her, catching her by surprise as it always did. She knew she should be fighting this, but she couldn’t find the willpower. And knowing she loved him left her defenseless. As her tongue entwined with his, she knew it was more than attraction that had drawn them together. Warmth and light flooded to the center of her. She never felt more alive than when she was with him. What she had lost could never be replaced, but what he offered was a different beginning. A beginning she could no longer deny.

  Then her emotions gave way to a primitive longing, and their mouths pressed together feverishly. She ran her hands along his shoulders, feeling the flesh and bone and muscle bunch and move under her fingers. Her blood pulsed heavily through her veins. His hand cupped her breast, and she moaned at the ache he created.

  His lips left hers to trail kisses down her throat, and he chanted her name as if it were a litany. When he opened her blouse and unhooked her bra, she pressed her freed breasts into his chest. The feel of skin against skin perfectly matched drove her beyond redemption.

  “I love you,” she murmured, burying her fingers in his hair. “I love you.”

  He kissed first one nipple, then the other. “I know.”

  He lifted her in his arms and strode the few paces to the sofa. Then she was beneath him, their bodies straining together as their passion overrode any thought of restraint. The limited space of the sofa was barely a hindrance.

  For the first time, they were alone in a place that offered the opportunity and the means to make love without interruption. The knowledge heightened her awareness, and she wondered if she had unconsciously fled to the cabana for this. It didn’t really matter. Their lovemaking was inevitable. From the moment she had first looked into his eyes, she had been captured by fate.

  She forgot everything as she helped him shed the rest of their clothes. They both gasped at the touch of their bodies now devoid of barriers. Ellen thought she would die, her need pushed to even greater heights. Joe’s hands and mouth left no part of her untouched. It was as if he already knew every pleasure point she possessed. He rose on his knees, her legs draped over his thighs. Instead of feeling vulnerable, she felt invincible. He leaned forward and gently took a nipple between his lips. His tongue swirled around the sensitive nub until she was writhing in pleasure. He raised his head and smiled at her, then his fingers found her moistness. She cried out and dug her nails into his shoulders as he stroked her to a frenzy.

  Joe clenched his teeth against the desire rapidly overtaking him. From the beginning, his imagination had tormented him with visions of making love to Ellen. And they all were pale imitations to the true feel of her in his arms, the way she moved under his hands. Her thighs shifted restlessly, tormenting him with their silkiness. Her hands guided his lips to her breasts, the nipples straining at the touch of his tongue. She was incredible in her response to him, and she was driving his need out of control. It would be too easy to take her in passion. He wanted, instead, to take her in love.

  But her hands glided down his back and around his hips, drawing him forward to her. She enclosed him in the heat he had created, and then they were moving together in endless obsession. He was lost in her, and he never wanted to return. She made him feel whole and unconquerable. Complete, he thought dimly. She made him feel complete. He would not take from her, but give as she gave to him. When she convulsed beneath him, he held her tightly to protect her from the forces raging inside her. But his own urgings overwhelmed him and he joined her in the tender storm. It faded into love’s calm peace.

  Long minutes later, he became aware of cool air against his naked back. The dust sheet had somehow tangled around his feet. Ellen lay beneath him quietly, as if she were too weighted to move. But she had said she loved him. He smiled into her shoulder, at first happy. Then he realized how he had had to force the confession from her.

  He lifted his head and shifted his weight onto his elbows. Swallowing back his fear, he said, “Ell … I don’t know what to say … I forced you.”

  He watched her eyes slowly open. Incredibly, she smiled at him. “No, you didn’t.”

  “Yes, I did. I should never have forced you to say ‘I love you.’ I’m sorry, so sorry.”

  She chuckled, her voice lazy with spent passion. “I think I trapped myself into this.”

  “No—”

  “Joe. I’m scared to death you’ll discover you made a terrible mistake with me. Don’t make it wor
se by being a gentleman.”

  “I’ll shut up,” he promised. “And you’re the best mistake I ever made, okay?”

  She nodded, then her eyes widened. “Omigod! I forgot about the vultures.”

  “The vultures?”

  “Grandmother’s guests. I can’t go back in there and face them after …”

  “Then we won’t.” He stretched out alongside her, then pulled her on top of him. “I’m sure your grandmother will have a plausible excuse for them.”

  Ellen’s eyes were bright with amusement and something more. Something he knew was only for him. “I think the two of you planned this.”

  He cupped her breast as he considered the question. “Not quite this.”

  He ran his finger across her blossoming nipple and watched her eyes slowly close. Her breathing quickened. She had always responded to his touch, as he had to hers, as if they were finely tuned to each other.

  “Your grandmother definitely didn’t plan this,” he murmured, his own breath becoming more rapid.

  Ellen grinned. “Don’t bet on it. You don’t know my grandmother.”

  The “vultures” were long gone when Ellen finally climbed the stairs to her room. Night was fading, and the early morning sun was slowly lighting the dark sky. The house was quiet, and she was surprised her grandmother wasn’t up to “check” on her. She couldn’t stop smiling as contentment and weariness wove through every corner of her body.

  Once inside her room, she found she was too tired to sleep, and she curled, instead, into a stuffed armchair. She sat for long minutes, feeling the lazy satisfaction in every inch of her and remembering how it had come there. On the small, round table next to the chair was a boudoir lamp, and she sighed and turned it on. A picture of a small boy caught her eye. She lifted it, her fingers caressing the silver frame. She had shut herself away for such a long time out of grief … and out of guilt. Despite what had happened in the cabana tonight, it would be easy to remember the pain of a bad marriage and a lost child and crawl back in her shell again.

  She was still afraid of being hurt, but tonight she had lost the battle against Joe. She knew if she truly trusted her heart she would find what she really wanted—what Joe was offering. All she had to do was stop looking back.

  She held the picture for a moment longer, then smiled and set it aside. From now on, she would look forward.

  Ten

  “And where are you going?”

  Ellen eyed her grandmother for a long moment, then picked up her purse. “Out to lunch.”

  “With Joseph.” It was a statement, rather than a question.

  Ellen didn’t answer. Her grandmother had been too darn smug over the “garden tour” that had taken place two nights ago. Last night, when Joe had arrived to take her to dinner, Lettice had been grinning like a matchmaker who had just pulled off the coup of the century. A little suspense wouldn’t hurt, Ellen decided, and it might just teach Lettice not to interfere. Or at least not to gloat when she did.

  “Ellen, are you or are you not going out to lunch with Joseph?”

  She shrugged. “I thought I’d do a little shopping too. Do you need anything?”

  “An answer!” Lettice snapped, her impatience getting the best of her.

  “We’ll see.”

  Ellen glanced in the foyer mirror for one last look before she left the house. Why is it, she wondered, that a person could look great upstairs, but not downstairs? Now she decided Joe would probably hate her mint green silk shirtwaist. Then the knowing smile hovering on her lips caught her attention and she forgot the dress. She did and yet didn’t look any different. She was floating half the time, and the other half she was worried about the disapproval she’d sensed in some of his family members. She would have to be reassured by his actions. Lunch today at the Carlini Foods company dining room would be the test.

  Love was confusing.…

  “Ellen! I demand to know—”

  “Good-bye, Grandmother,” she said, turning away from her reflection. She’d be very late if she changed. Besides, she’d been through her closet twice and this was her best dress. Remembering her manners, she added, “You have a nice lunch, too.”

  “Ellen Kitteridge, you haven’t said a word about Joseph since the other night.”

  Stopping on the threshold, Ellen turned and smiled. “You like him, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” The fire of battle was in the silver-haired woman’s eyes. “The least you could do is thank me for the other night, missy.”

  “In a pig’s eye.” Ellen shut the front door on her grandmother’s gasp of outrage.

  She grinned.

  • • •

  Joe glanced at the desk clock and sighed with relief when he saw the time. Ellen would be here any minute for lunch. The company dining room was not his first choice, but he had so much work to catch up on that he hadn’t been sure he could get away from the plant.

  He smiled, admitting to himself that if he took her some place cozy for lunch, he would never come back. Dinner had been a close call last night. Actually, they’d done pretty well at keeping their hands off each other, considering they had made love just twenty-four hours before that. He remembered looking at her, sensing the same longing in her as was in him, and cursing the fates that they had no privacy. It was finally time to move out of the Wynnewood family home. Granted, his parents traveled a good deal. Unfortunately, they weren’t traveling at the moment.

  “Where did you take a woman before?” Ellen had asked, desire clear in her eyes.

  She hadn’t liked his answer of “her place or a hotel.” Ellen was too fine to take to a hotel. Besides, they hadn’t had much of a courtship, and he was determined to give her that. He had sensed it wasn’t so much the “where” that bothered her, but that a place had been found at all. Still, he loved the thought that she was jealous, even though she had nothing to be jealous about. It was a good sign that he was getting past the last of her barriers. Making love had resolved her emotions for him. What it had resolved for him was unbelievable. Much as it would torture him, he knew it was better that they didn’t make love again for a while. Their relationship needed time to cement the emotional foundations. He sensed that once that was secure, their physical relationship could only be heightened.

  “It’ll probably kill me,” he muttered, deciding he’d have a smile on his face when he went.

  He looked down at his now neglected paperwork and groaned. He had to stop daydreaming like this.

  Someone tapped on his back office door that led directly to a hallway. Surprised, he rose and unlocked it.

  His cousin, Jamie Carlini, stood in the empty corridor. “Are you alone, Joe?”

  He nodded, and Jamie came into the office. After the door was shut again, Jamie pulled a long envelope from his breast pocket.

  “It’s my resignation,” he said.

  Joe gaped at him. “Resignation? What … why—”

  “I had an anonymous phone call,” Jamie said, his normally tanned complexion sallow. “I … I haven’t been faithful to my wife. I thought I was hiding it very well, that no one would find out. But apparently someone has. He didn’t ask for anything. Not yet. I’ve thought about this, and I had to admit just how vulnerable I really am to such an attack. I know pressure can be applied. A lot of pressure. I thought a resignation and confession were the best way to handle it. If you’ll come to my bank, I’ll turn over my part of the recipe straight from my safety deposit box.”

  Joe stared at his cousin, then at the envelope held out to him. Anger shot through him at this latest and nastiest twist to Mario’s game. “Make three guesses who your anonymous caller is. And the first two don’t count.”

  Jamie set his jaw. “It wasn’t hard to figure out. When you first told me about Thomas being approached, it went through my head that I might be vulnerable. But I’ve been so careful about the affair—”

  “Not careful enough,” Joe snapped, not having any sympathy for Jamie. Jamie’s wife,
Karen, was a lovely woman, and she adored her husband. “You should have told me about this before. We might have been able to handle it without the affair coming out.”

  “I don’t know how anyone found out.”

  “Someone did.”

  “She was … exciting. But it was stupid,” Jamie said. “All around stupid.”

  Joe took the envelope and crumpled it up. “Resigning won’t solve the problem. Your ‘anonymous’ caller might just let your secret out in revenge, because you took yourself out of the play.”

  Jamie curled his hands into fists. “I realize that. I’ve already told Karen. I don’t know if I have a marriage left.”

  Joe shook his head at the hurt that must have caused. “Then you’ve spiked his guns at the expense of your marriage. This has gone too far. It’s past time that I ask for someone else’s resignation and to hell with the family.”

  Jamie looked wide-eyed at him. “Joe, I can’t say it was Mario on the telephone. The voice was too muffled.”

  “I don’t care about proof. I’ve had enough.” His temper got the better of him. “If there’s trouble, then there’s trouble. Maybe everyone will finally wise up and realize this is a business. But Mario is not ruining anyone else’s life. This will stop today.”

  “Joe—”

  “No. My job is to protect this company. And it’s about time I do my job.”

  His intercom line rang. He picked up the receiver. “No calls—”

  “Ms. Kitteridge is here.”

  “Ask her to wait a moment.” He set the receiver down and turned to Jamie. He thrust the envelope back into his cousin’s hands. “As they say in the old country: You have honor, James Carlini. It took a lot of courage to resign, but you’re too damn good a lawyer to lose. The company needs you.”

  “Thank you,” Jamie said in a low voice.

  Joe patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry about Mario. I’ll remove his fangs for good.”

  “Watch you don’t get bitten in the process,” Jamie warned.