by Janet Dailey
Reassured by Kathleen that no damage had been done, Marsha allowed a faint smile to appear. “I know you're right. I guess it's just that you and Dad are always so happy together that it's a surprise to hear you argue."
“Shall we go to our room?” Kathleen suggested.
“Yes,” Marsha agreed, and fell in step with her. “What do you suppose Dad's going to do?"
“I have no idea,” Kathleen admitted. “After he's calmed down, I'll talk to him again. I'm sure he'll listen to reason."
Marsha wasn't. Her father and Annette were a lot alike in that respect.
IN THE LATE AFTERNOON, Annette breezed into the hotel room. She had on a hooded caftan designed for beachwear. It added to her long leggy look.
“Hi.” She smiled the airy greeting at Marsha, “Kathleen said you got back over an hour ago. Why didn't you let me know?” She didn't wait for an answer, rushing another question after the first. “What all did you buy?"
“Just a pair of slacks. They're hanging up in the closet,” she said, and watched Annette with a guarded look. “When did you talk to Kathleen?"
“Just a couple of minutes ago.” Annette walked to the closet to see Marsha's purchase. “I took Robby to his room to give him a bath and get him cleaned up before you guys got back. When I walked in with him, there were Dad and Kathleen.” She took out the hanger with the new slacks on it. “Hey, these are nice. Blue, of course. Your wardrobe is getting in a rut, Marsha."
Marsha picked at a loose thread in the bedspread. “Did Dad say anything?"
“No.” Annette glanced in her direction, suddenly noticing her sister's guarded attitude. “Why?"
“I just wondered.” Marsha shrugged with too much indifference.
Annette knew there was something more to it than that. “What did you expect him to say to me?"
“Nothing,” Marsha insisted.
“There must have been something or you wouldn't have asked,” Annette persisted. “Now, what is it?"
“It's just that ... we did go to the beach to let you know we were back early,” she explained unwillingly.
Annette frowned. “But I didn't see you."
“No, but we saw you.” Marsha paused and sighed. “Or rather, we saw Josh kiss you.” Annette lifted her head a fraction of an inch, like an animal scenting trouble. “Dad was furious. That's why I thought he might have said something to you."
“He didn't.” And she wondered why not.
“I guess Kathleen talked to him. She said she was going to ... after he cooled down.” Marsha offered that as an explanation.
“Maybe,” she conceded, and removed the caftan by pulling it over her head. “I just don't understand why Dad doesn't like Josh. He barely knows him."
“I think Dad believes you barely know him,” her sister pointed out.
“Well, he's wrong.” She hung the caftan up in the closet and began sorting through her clothes. “You should have seen Josh today with Robby. What do you think I should wear tonight?"
“Are you going out?” The minute she asked it, the question seemed totally ridiculous.
“Yes, I'm having dinner with Josh.” Annette was careful not to mention where. “He's seen me in just about everything."
“Why don't you wear my blue silk dress?” Marsha suggested.
Annette turned, her face lighting up, but she didn't accept immediately. “Are you sure you don't mind? It's your favorite."
“No, go ahead,” she insisted. “You'll look terrific in it."
“Thanks."
Reaching in the closet, she took out the azure-colored dress and carried it to the dresser mirror. She held the waistline against her bathing suit to see how it would look on her. Marsha was right. It was terrific—the fabric, the color, the style.
“Oh, Marsha, it's gorgeous,” Annette breathed. “Thanks for letting me wear it. I promise I'll do the same for you anytime.” Her expression became affectionate and thoughtful. “We may not be much alike for sisters, but you always come through when I need you."
“What are sisters for?” Marsha grinned.
Chapter Eight
ANNETTE WAITED until her family had gone to dinner before she left the room to walk to Josh's suite. Her stride was light and free. She could have been walking on air for all the notice she paid to the ground. It was a perfect July night—a soft breeze blowing in from the sea, night birds singing in the trees and a gorgeous sunset bleeding the sky with reds and oranges. She laughed aloud when she discovered she was humming to herself.
Arriving at the door to his suite, she knocked twice and waited, but not for long. She heard the approach of his footsteps and the turn of the lock before it was pulled open. Her bright gray eyes swept over him.
His white silk-like shirt was unbuttoned at the throat, contrasting sharply with the bronze tan and hairy-rough texture of his skin. The cuffs of the sleeves were rolled back to reveal his forearms. Dark slacks were loosely molded to his slim hips.
The lazy half smile on his mouth disarmed her. “Right on time,” Josh observed, and reached out to take her hand, inviting her in.
His suite was a self-contained apartment, complete with a living room, a dining area overlooking the bay, a kitchen and—naturally—a bedroom. Annette could see this last through an opened doorway.
The thick gold draperies were pulled to let the vibrant colors of the sunset spill into the suite. The white linen on the table reflected the scarier hues of the setting sun. The table was set for two, polished silver shining and crystal goblets glittering. In the middle, a matched set of silver holders supported a pair of slim blue candles.
“I thought we'd eat later—after the sun goes down,” Josh said, following the direction of her gaze.
“I agree. It would be a shame not to use the candles.” And sunlight didn't seem nearly as romantic as candlelight, but Annette didn't feel she needed to say that.
“In the meantime we can have some champagne.” Josh led her by the hand into the living room. “This time it will be properly chilled,” he added, obliquely referring to the tepid wine they'd drunk on the beach.
Releasing her hand, he lifted the bottle out of the bucket of ice on the coffee table. A pair of wine glasses sat on a tray. Annette picked them up while Josh attempted to work the cork out of the bottle. It defied him at first, then the pressure inside shot the cork into the air, ricocheting it off the ceiling. Frothy wine bubbled from the neck. Annette quickly held out a glass to catch the overflow.
“Aren't you lucky I was prepared?” she laughed. By some miracle not a drop was spilled.
“I knew you would be,” Josh replied, and set the bottle deep in the nest of ice. Facing her, he touched the rim of his wineglass to hers, the fine crystal making a tinkling chime at the light contact. “To the rest of the evening,” he toasted softly.
“To the rest of the evening,” Annette murmured, and carried the glass to her lips, sipping the sparkling wine and holding his gaze over the clear rim. The bubbles tickled her throat. She had to cover her mouth to contain a choking cough, trying to laugh at her predicament. “I knew those bubbles would get me someday,” she said hoarsely, when she was able to talk again. “But I always thought I would embarrass myself by sneezing."
“I can't imagine anything embarrassing you,” Josh replied.
“It takes a lot,” she admitted in a more natural voice.
“Come on.” He slipped an arm around her waist. “Let's sit on the couch."
Skirting the coffee table in front of it, Josh guided her to the sofa cushions. When they were both seated, his arm was around her shoulders, curving her to his side. His body heat warmed her skin, sensitizing her nerve ends to the solid feel of his flesh.
It seemed impossible to be more aware of him, but she was. Yet there wasn't any nervousness, even though this was the first time she'd ever been alone with a man in his apartment. She had attended parties before at a male friend's place, but there had always been a horde of other friends there, as well.<
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“What are you thinking about?” Josh asked, his gaze playing over her features.
“How comfortable I am,” she admitted, and took another sip of champagne. This time she didn't choke on the bubbles.
“You managed that without a cough or a sneeze,” he observed. “Your glass is nearly empty. Shall I refill it for you?"
“No,” Annette refused. “I hadn't better have any more on an empty stomach. It goes to my head too quickly, and you'd wind up with a slightly tipsy blonde at dinner."
“Very sensible,” Josh murmured, and drank from his glass.
Her glance studied the tanned column of his throat as he swallowed, the wine. Her fingers curled with the desire to touch him, but she kept them around the stemmed crystal glass.
“If you'd like to pour yourself some more, don't let me stop you,” she offered.
“Why? Do you want me to get ‘slightly tipsy'?” He mocked her with her own phrase.
“That's an interesting thought,” she murmured provocatively.
A low chuckle came from his throat. “And I always thought the man was supposed to get the girl drunk."
“Turnabout is fair play,” Annette countered with a half shrug, the weight of his arm lessening the movement.
“Is it?” He set his glass down on the end table, then took hers and placed it beside his. “In that case, you can kiss me."
She started to laugh, then realized Josh was serious. On second thought, she rather liked the idea of being the one to initiate an embrace. The hand that had been so anxious to touch him curved itself to the ropy muscles along his neck, applying pressure to bend his head to hers.
Her lips mobilely found the warmth of his and it ceased to matter who was the aggressor. Josh was turning to her, his hand reaching for her. It seemed he was burying his mouth in hers, filling all the intimate recesses. His thin shirt was like a second skin; her caressing hands had all the sensation of touch of his muscled shoulders and back. Latent power rippled beneath her fingers.
She was drunk on the taste of him and it affected all the rest of her senses. Wild vibrations swept her as Josh nuzzled her neck and rediscovered the sensitive pulse point at the base of her throat. The wayward roaming of his hands was creating a havoc of its own, exciting and arousing her to a fever pitch.
His hand slid along her thigh, trying to mold her to him. “This is as bad as a car,” Josh sighed in frustration, and lifted her onto his lap.
The kissing and caressing continued with greater freedom. Her hands made a tactile exploration of his hewed features, memorizing the cut of his jaw and the curve of his cheekbone and discovering the softness of his thick lashes. Lengthening shadows outside darkened the room as twilight purpled into night. Josh stirred, a hand smoothing the hair near her face.
“Are you hungry?” It was a very reluctantly issued question.
“No.” And she wondered if he had wanted her to say yes.
“Good.” Josh gave her the answer, a fire slumbering in his dark eyes. “I wasn't looking forward to making love on a full stomach."
The breath disappeared from her lungs. His arms tightened to keep her cradled against him as he rolled to his feet. Her hands automatically linked themselves around his neck. Familiarity with his surroundings allowed Josh to carry her to the bedroom without the benefit of a light.
Inside the room, he let her stand. His hands settled onto the soft points of her shoulders, kneading them lightly. Her heart was thudding against her ribs as Josh bent his head and kissed her with warm slow desire. Annette swayed toward him, but his hands kept her away. Lifting his head, he looked at her deeply.
With a slight pressure, he turned her in a half circle. His hands moved and Annette closed her eyes as they glided down her back, unzipping her dress. They came back to slide it off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. The semidarkness of the room added to the sensation of intimacy as Josh undressed her.
He carried her to the bed and stripped back the covers to lay her on the silkiness of the sheets. Kissing her, he sat on the edge of the bed, leaning to her. His hands made restless trails over her softly full curves, tingling her flesh wherever they touched.
When he straightened to sit erect, Annette reached out a hand, letting it trail over his hair-roughened chest. Josh finished unbuttoning the shirt and removed it, tossing it aside. His skin felt hot to the touch, on fire, as she was. The touch of her hand compelled him back to her.
His mouth rocked over hers, then wandered to the pulsing vein in her neck. Her hands moved restlessly over his shoulders, fingers running in and out of his thick hair. A quivering rush of emotion swelled within her when his hand cupped the roundness of a breast. As his mouth made a foray over its nubile peak, Annette sunk her teeth into her lower lip to silence the wanton murmurs of delight. His hard male lips came back to her throat as if to investigate the faint sounds.
“You are so incredibly beautiful, Annette,” he murmured huskily.
His words broke the lock she'd placed on her own voice. “I love you, Josh,” she whispered with overwhelming certainty.
He was motionless for an instant, his mouth against her skin but not caressing. Slowly he levered himself a foot away from her. Even in the darkness she was conscious of his gaze searching her face. At first she thought he didn't believe, her. Her lips parted to reaffirm the statement.
But Josh spoke first, a rather weary, “I should have known.” He sat the rest of the way up.
Annette was bewildered. “What do you mean?” she murmured. He hadn't turned away from her or stopped looking at her.
“Why did you choose this particular minute to say that?” he asked.
“Because it's what I feel.” She frowned her confusion. “I thought I should tell you."
“But why now?” Josh persisted.
“What difference does it make?” She didn't understand what possible significance that had. A coolness began to drift over her naked flesh without the arousing warmth of his hands to shut it out. “You aren't making any sense.” She didn't like being on the defensive. And why did she have to defend her love for him? “Why are you cross-examining me? What's your reason for subjecting me to the third degree all of a sudden?” she challenged him.
“And I'm questioning your motive for declaring your love for me at that precise moment,” Josh replied grimly, and reached over to switch on the lamp by the bed.
It bathed Annette in its light, suddenly making her self-conscious of her nudity when she hadn't been before. Instinct had her reaching for the covers and pulling them over her to hide her nakedness from his eyes.
“There wasn't any motive,” she protested. “I just wanted to tell you."
Looking at him in the light, she could see the effects of their lovemaking. His mahogany-dark hair was rumpled from her raking fingers. Passion continued to lurk in the corners of his velvet brown eyes. There was a sensual fullness to his masculine lips, a direct result of their many kisses. Yet he wasn't holding her or touching her or making any attempt to eliminate the small distance between them in the bed.
“I suppose you didn't have it in mind to declare your love just before we had sex for the first time in order to implant a subconscious guilt in me because I was taking your virginity.” The quietness of his voice seemed to carry an accusing ring. “Afterward were you hoping to make use of that guilt by applying a little emotional blackmail to persuade me to marry you?"
“No.” Annette denied the allegation. “I didn't have anything like that planned."
“Then you aren't expecting me to marry you?” Josh asked for a clarification.
That was one she couldn't give. It caused her to falter, betraying herself. She looked at him, searching his features for some sign of emotion for her.
“Don't you want to marry me?” she murmured with a sinking heart.
“No.” His reply was brutally simple.
“But—” A hard lump welled in her throat. Annette had to pause to swallow it. “I thought...�
� She tried again. “This afternoon you asked if I would be interested in having your baby."
A wry kind of amusement flickered across his features. “Annette, that was another way of asking to make love to you,” he explained with droll patience. “That is how babies are made, but I have absolutely no intention of getting you pregnant."
To her shame, Annette realized she had read into his question something he hadn't meant at all. She, who had prided herself on being so clever, had just made an incredibly stupid error. She felt sick. She stared at the sheet, her eyes burning with hot tears that wouldn't fall.
“I didn't understand what you meant,” she admitted stiffly.
“You know I've made love to other women in the past,” Josh stated his own experience. “Haven't you considered how many other women have lain in this bed with me?"
Part of her wanted to cover her ears to shut out the things he was saying. And another part wanted out of the bed he had shared with someone else. It made her feel unclean.
“No, I haven't.” There was a hoarseness in her voice. “I thought I was different ... special.” The bitterness of self-conceit coated her tongue.
“Because you are a virgin?” Josh took a deep breath and released it in a heavy sigh. “Annette, men have had virgins before, and not married them."
“All ... all you wanted was an affair.” She nearly choked on the word, still unable to look at him, her stomach churning.
“Yes."
“Why didn't you tell me that?” Annette protested on a surge of anger.
“Because, until this afternoon, I thought you knew,” he replied.
“Well, I didn't!” she flashed. “Where are my clothes? I want my clothes."
The mattress shifted beneath her as Josh stood up and walked to her pile of clothes in the middle of the floor. He took his time picking them up, then held them, his hand moving as if he were mentally weighing them. Returning to the bed, he offered them to her. Annette felt hot under his steady regard. One hand clutched the covers while she reached out with the other to snatch her clothes from his hand.