Whirlwind

by Jennifer Mikels

  It had been a long time since she had felt so light in spirit, just sharing a silly conversation with a man. But then it had been a long time since she had shared her time with any man who didn't take his own ability to charm the socks off her seriously. Brand was laughing at himself, and she was enjoying their game of words. "I do know," she offered, to keep the game going, "that Leo people move along at a headstrong pace like a train that won't stop for anything."

  "It sounds as if I'm not the first Leo you've ever met."

  "You aren't," Dayna answered matter-of-factly.

  "I have a feeling I should hope you really don't believe in horoscopes."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "Well, if he didn't leave you with fond memories, you might automatically dislike all men born under that sign."

  "I don't believe in it," Dayna assured him.

  "A more impulsive woman might. But you're not the kind of woman who acts without conscious thought, are you?"

  "No, I'm not," Dayna answered. Good sense told her to leave now. The mood had changed between them, the lightness suddenly gone. Though she hadn't made any revealing move, Brand discerned by her silence that within minutes he might be sitting alone.

  He leaned forward, rested his elbows on the table, and reached for her hand. Dayna's head came up quickly, the touch of his hand on hers sending a shock through her. "I'm also a palm reader," Brand offered quickly.

  Dayna rolled her eyes with disbelief, but her instincts were triggered by that first initial contact with his flesh and she stared down at her hand, unable to jerk it away from his warm one. He held onto it firmly and leaned further forward, forcing her to do the same. Their heads were bent, nearly touching, as Brand looked down at her palm in the flickering light of the candle on the table.

  "Let's see," he said, holding her hand with one of his while the thumb of his other hand stroked one of the prominent lines on her palm, in a slow suggestive motion. While his attention was directed at her hand, she openly perused his face, taking in the soft lines that crinkled at the corners of his eyes from days of squinting against a bright sun, and the tan lightly textured skin. The tan color made the blue of his eyes appear even brighter.

  Dayna's brief reverie was broken as she became aware that Brand was gazing intently at her. His eyes glinted, showing his appreciation of the sight before him.

  "What do you see?" Dayna asked, drawing a deep breath only after his blond head bent again.

  "By your heart line, I see there's been a string of broken hearts in your life."

  Dayna chided him lightly. "That's not what you're supposed to find out from studying it."

  "Including mine," he said softly, ignoring her amused reproof. His fair brows knitted with feigned seriousness over what he was doing. He pointed to a spot on her palm. "See this here?" he asked and Dayna instinctively hunched closer. "There's a line right here that connects with your life line. That's a mark of destiny." He smiled, looking up at her, his breath warm on her face. "It says on your palm that we were supposed to meet." Strands of hair on her forehead fluttered as he spoke, his lips so close they could have kissed. Dayna deliberately kept her gaze fixed on her palm, but she could feel his intense stare as his thumb moved to another line. "This is your love line."

  Before she was aware he was doing it, he drew her hand to his mouth and his lips caressed her palm. The sensuousness of the gesture had an almost mesmerizing effect on her. It was erotically intimate, and Dayna quickly slid her hand away.

  Self-conscious warmth heated her face. She stared at the drink before her, aware of an almost compelling attraction between them. She knew her arousal was obvious, and she wished every light in the room would suddenly dim.

  "Don't be embarrassed," he said with a whisper. "I feel it too. I've felt it since the first moment I saw you."

  Dayna took a long drink of her Manhattan. As she set the glass down again, she faced him with a pretense of steadiness that she didn't really feel. "I don't know what you're talking about."

  His rueful smile almost made her wish she could take the words back. He looked over his shoulder in the direction of the combo and the small dance floor. "Would you like to dance?" he asked.

  The music was soft and tempting, and she sensed her softness might be too tempting to him if he were to hold her close, even under the pretense of dancing.

  "I don't think so."

  "I promise I won't step on your toes," he said lightly, tilting his head to see her face as she looked down.

  She chided herself for the feeling of cowardice that surged through her as she tried to meet his gaze. "It's not that," she answered, looking toward the lounge entrance, and wondering what was detaining Karen and Shelly. "I'm supposed to meet friends."

  "A male friend?"

  "No." Dayna shook her head. "Associates who are also here for the convention."

  "Good," he said in a relieved tone. "I wouldn't want to have to prove I'm gallant and brave by fighting him just for something as innocent as a dance." He shoved back his chair and rose to his feet as if she had already given her acceptance. "One dance," he said with a mocking smile as he moved behind her chair. "One dance, like one drink, can't do any harm." Dayna stifled a smile over his gibe regarding her reluctance earlier to let him buy her a drink. But as he pulled out her chair and she rose to her feet, standing only inches from him, she felt again the magnetic spell he was weaving around her. No amount of reason or good sense seemed capable of overcoming the attraction that existed between them.

  She drew a deep breath as they reached the dance floor and she stepped into his arms. It was music for lovers, music meant to lull the senses and create a mood of enchantment as it moved the couples at a dreamy swaying pace. The minute Brand's arm came around her back and the heat of his body touched her, she realized how easily she could be drawn under that spell.

  He held her politely, but his arm around her waist was like an iron band, the strength both protecting and threatening. Because of her ambivalence, she allowed him to draw her closer so that his hand was at the slender line of her waist. Forced to rest her face against his, she felt his thighs brushing against her. For some reason it felt so natural, so comfortable to be with him. She knew the danger in that kind of thinking and reminded herself quickly that he was a stranger, a man she would never see again. She drew back, forcing him to allow some space between them.

  Looking out at the others on the dance floor, she tried to occupy her mind with thoughts of anything but him. Most of the couples were also tightly embraced.

  "It seems to be a night for lovers," Brand said softly, claiming Dayna's attention insistently.

  She offered a weak smile. "I think it's more like a night for cowboys on the prowl."

  "You really are down on them, aren't you?" he asked with soft laughter.

  Dayna made a face. "In the last few days, I've met my share of men who act as if they're still on some round-up—whooping and howling."

  "More accurately," Brand said with a knowing look, "chasing and cornering. You might have missed the .experience of a lifetime." He smiled, giving her waist an affectionate squeeze. "They're supposed to be good lovers."

  Dayna looked up at him skeptically. "Who told you that?"

  "A cowboy," Brand answered lightly.

  Her laughter slipped out easily. She was drawn closer again and her senses seemed wrapped up in an awareness of him: the width of his shoulders, the scent of his after-shave lotion, the texture of his smoothly shaven jaw. She was too comfortable with him for her own good. Laughter came easily, their conversation was unrestrained. Never before had any man turned her head so easily. She was too wise, too experienced not to know that if she wasn't careful she might regret this evening.

  When they returned to the table, Dayna made a motion to leave, but Brand ordered another drink for her before she had a chance to refuse.

  "One more drink," he requested with a smile that was meant to elicit an agreeable nod from any woman. Dayna menta
lly shook her head. She was beginning to feel like a puppet. She was suddenly incapable of saying the word "no." When the second Manhattan was set before her, she was determined it would be the last drink they shared.

  "Now," Brand said, "we've shared two drinks and a delightful dance. Do I qualify as a close-enough acquaintance to know your mysterious moniker?"

  "Have you been dying of curiosity about my nickname all this time?"

  "Waiting with bated breath," he answered, a hint of a smile curving his masculine lips.

  "It's my father's nickname for me," she answered self-consciously, "and he only uses it when I've thoroughly exasperated him." She made a face, trying to restrain a blush but she knew her cheeks were becoming pinker. "It's not even a logical one. I mean I really don't know why he gave it to me."

  His brow arched as Brand smiled with amusement over her lengthy explanation. Feeling silly suddenly, Dayna blurted out, "It's sweet witch."

  His blue eyes narrowed, and Dayna knew he was reflecting on what she had said. She felt as if he was examining her soul, as a perceptive light glimmered in his eyes. "Kind of a contradictory combination," he mused.

  Sensing that Brand had already made his own deductions, Dayna admitted, "He says I am."

  "You are," Brand agreed easily, making Dayna wonder how he had gained this instantaneous insight. "You're fascinating. Because you're a study in contrasts. Obviously, since you own your own business and travel a great deal, you're a very independent, sophisticated lady—" he paused, teasing glints darkening the blue of his eyes as if he knew in advance what the result of his next words would be—"who blushes easily." Dayna looked down, fighting the heat that threatened to spread to her face. "Your father might not be wrong. In fact, I know for sure he isn't." Dayna kept her gaze fixed on her drink and removed the cherry. As she slid it into her mouth, he said softly, "Only a sweet witch could do what you've accomplished in less than a few hours."

  She looked up. His blue eyes were fixed on her lips with a look of warm preoccupation. A silent, sensuous message was conveyed as his eyes held hers. But she didn't feel threatened by it. If anything, she was battling sensuous feelings of her own. An unrecognized force had kept her there despite the warning of her inner, reasonable self— it wasn't the most sensible thing to do. She should get up now and leave. Nothing could come of this encounter. Yet she stayed—held by the special magic in his eyes—eyes that caressed her face as if making a mental picture of her.

  Brand's voice broke into her thoughts. "You've cast some kind of spell over me. I think I fell in love with you at eleven o'clock this morning by the pool."

  Much too realistic to take his words seriously, Dayna fought the sensation his comments aroused. With soft laughter, she answered, "If you only think you did, we're both still sane."

  "You don't believe in love at first sight?"

  "No," Dayna said. "That only happens in the movies."

  "You're obviously a lady who's too sensible for that sort of frivolous thinking."

  "Much too sensible," she answered quickly.

  He gave an off-hand shrug, letting her response slide. Dayna smiled to herself. Harmless flirting could be fun, and that's all it was between them. She believed with some satisfaction that he had finally abandoned his approach and his goal, and that, accepting defeat, he would probably leave soon to find more compliant company.

  Brand leaned back in his chair and swiveled it to the side, seemingly content to stay there for hours.

  Bending his leg, he rested a heel on his knee and began asking her questions about the convention. Dayna filled him in on what she had been doing for the past two days, but she was somewhat skeptical. He was showing a sincere curiosity about a topic that should have bored anyone but another travel agent.

  "How long is this convention supposed to last?"

  "I leave tomorrow evening. And yourself?" she asked.

  "I'll be gone by nine tomorrow morning. We could make a full night of it and spend the rest of our time here together," he said, flashing a suggestive smile.

  Dayna laughed. "You never give up."

  "See how much you know about me already. I've got a stubborn streak. You could date some men for months before becoming aware they possessed that trait."

  "I need my sleep," she answered in response to his suggestion.

  "Airplane flights are very restful."

  "I don't sleep well unless I'm in bed," Dayna replied, but her smile lingered.

  "I'd let you sleep—a little while." His gaze was filled with the same smoldering warmth she heard in his voice.

  "I doubt it," Dayna answered, playing his game of words. "I think you're too persistent."

  He laughed shortly before asking with more seriousness, "Are you headed back to Chicago?"

  "No, I'm not. Believe it or not I'm off to a dude ranch."

  A flicker of amusement crossed his face. "You don't look the type."

  "That's what I thought, too. But my father has different ideas. He has a friend who owns a ranch. Since our agency recommends it, he thought it might be a nice place for me to take my vacation."

  Brand chuckled. "That really is a mixture of business and pleasure. What's the name of it?"

  "The Double R. Have you heard of it?" Dayna asked, wondering if a stranger might give her an objective opinion about the ranch.

  "I've heard of it. It's near Wickenburg. There are a lot of guest ranches out that way." Brand shifted the conversation to the workings of a travel agency. She answered everything he asked but couldn't help smiling when he commented, "See, I wasn't wrong earlier. You do get paid to attend parties, don't you?"

  "I guess that's true," Dayna said, finding some humor in the situation now. "But not private parties," she added, feeling both chilled and warmed by his gaze. Like caressing hands, it moved over her face and shoulders. Her years of experience handling men from all parts of the world had deserted her with this man. She worked hard to ignore his meaningful gaze. "My job is to make certain all phases of a client's vacation are enjoyable."

  A smile curled one corner of his mouth. "I think we're even. With some difficulty, I've managed to remove my foot from my mouth. I'd say, though, you did make my stay here enjoyable today."

  "What does that mean?" Dayna asked warily.

  "It's very flattering to have a beautiful woman stare at you. Like you were doing this morning by the pool." Laughter edged his voice as he teased her. "I'll satisfy your curiosity any time you say, if it extends to more than what you could see."

  "You definitely have a one-track mind. And, really," she chided, "you're very blunt." She veiled the embarrassment she felt at having been caught staring at him by offering a logical reason. "I was merely admiring your suntan."

  "Good old Texas sun," he drawled with a feigned southwestern twang. He hunched forward again, resting his arms on the table. Small and circular, it was like the others in the room and meant to enhance the intimate atmosphere. His movement brought his face very close to hers. "And let's be honest. You'd be more offended, wouldn't you, if I didn't try to make a pass at you?"

  "Do you always say exactly what you're thinking?"

  Amusement leaped into his eyes. "Often."

  She glanced at her watch, beginning to worry about Karen and Shelly. One drink had turned into a few, and the brief time she thought she'd spend with Brand had exceeded an hour. "I think you'll have to excuse me," she said, rising to her feet before he could offer any resistance. He was standing before Dayna could move away.

  She held onto a smile, a token of politeness, as his hand touched her arm. It placed no real restraint on her, but the strength it possessed could be felt in the firm grip. Her green eyes met his squarely, conveying that she wasn't a female easily prone to intimidation. If he became difficult and spoiled the pleasurable time they had spent together with some macho move, she didn't plan on being as good-natured as she seemed.

  His hand immediately dropped away. "Do you have to go so soon?"

  "
Yes, I do," Dayna answered, starting toward the elevator. Not surprised that he walked with her, she added, "I really should have left sooner. Thank you for buying me the drinks."

  "It was my pleasure." He smiled in response and pushed the elevator button. "Are you sure you want to say good night?" he tried again, facing her with a look of mocking displeasure.

  Dayna laughed, and with more truth than she'd expected when he first sat down by her, she said, "Even though brief, it was nice meeting you. But…"

  "Always a but," he said, flashing a smile. "You've got to stop analyzing everything and just act on impulse."

  If he only knew, she thought wryly. She was far from immune to his charm, and her fragile resistance seemed ready to break. There was an air of anticipation about their meeting like some cloud hovering over them just waiting to burst. His eyes moved to her lips now. Dayna sensed the kiss even before he lowered his head and his mouth drifted down to hers, but she didn't resist. As his arm came around her back and he drew her slightly to him, she slid her hands to his shoulders and responded to the mouth moving over hers in a slow, testing manner. His lips caressed hers gently before the pressure deepened. It was a persuasive, stirring kiss, one that could arouse a woman without much effort. A heady lightness caused Dayna to lean against him when he raised his head in response to the opening of elevator doors.

  "Come with me." It was a soft, appealing command, and the pressure of his strong hand around her arm was urgent and persuasive. Her resolve almost wavered under the power of his will, but then she caught herself.

  She asked with a light laugh, surprised at her own easy manner, "What can really happen in one night?"

  "It could bring an eternity of tenderness and understanding," Brand answered easily, the soft huskiness of his voice more of a lure than his words.

  "Or just a moment to remember," Dayna replied. But she didn't feel as sure of herself as she sounded. To touch his sinewy flesh and taste its saltiness would be an experience to remember.