Cautious Lover

by Stephanie James

  “Of course I’m sure. Damn sure! And I think you know it. You’re just using this as a smoke screen, aren’t you? An excuse to take your time making up your mind about whether or not to marry me.” “That’s not true!”

  “Good,” he said forcefully, “because it’s not going to work. I’ve put up with your shadow dancing long enough, Elly. You and I are getting married. Next month, just as I told your relatives. I’m not giving you any more rope, lady, or you’ll manage to get both of us snarled in it.”

  “Please, Jess, be reasonable. We can’t just rush into marriage because you’ve established a timetable for it. You’ve got to see that there are too many things we don’t yet know about each other. We need time.”

  “What don’t we know about each other?” he chal­lenged.

  “Well, take my past, for instance. You didn’t know anything about it before today. You never even asked about it.”

  “It wasn’t exactly a crucial topic as far as I was con­cerned.”

  “Because the way I am, my life-style on the coast seemed to fit so perfectly into all your plans and require­ments,” she shot back. “That’s ail you saw and that’s all you cared about.”

  For a moment frustrated anger burned in his eyes, and his hands tightened on her wrists. Elly wished she didn’t feel so terribly vulnerable.

  “It wasn’t all I cared about, but it seemed to be all that was important at the time. It’s still all that’s important. But if it makes you feel any better, tell me about your past. What made you decide to leave San Francisco and the business world?”

  “This is hardly the time to go into that,” she pro­tested.

  “Seems like the perfect time to me. The fact that I haven’t asked until now appears to be another road­block you’re throwing out. So, okay, I’m asking.”

  “I don’t get the feeling you’re really interested.”

  Jess smiled faintly. He used the pad of his thumb on the inside of her wrist. “You’re wrong there, Elly. Everything about you interests me. The subject of your past is now on the table and open for discussion. Talk.”

  “All right, I’ll keep it short and simple so as not to bore you. I realized three years ago that big-city busi­ness and big-city living wasn’t something I wanted on a full-time basis. When I began to understand that, I be­gan to change my life. At the time it was easy enough. My family was upset, but basically there wasn’t anything they could do. I decided I wasn’t obliged to live my life to suit them. Unfortunately, Uncle Toby made up his mind I wasn’t going to be allowed to escape so easily. He always said I was the only adult member of the clan who had a head for business and a sense of responsibility.”

  “So he left controlling interest in Trentco to you. You’re in charge until the next generation comes along. In a sense the company still ties you to your old life.”

  “You’ve got it.”

  “That’s all there is to it? No tragic love affairs? No failed marriage? No flickering fires of passion that never had a chance to run their course?”

  “No! Damn it, stop teasing me, Jess. I was running toward something, not away from it. It was an intellec­tual decision as well as an emotional one.”

  “Elly, my sweet, this may come as a shock to you, but your lurid past isn’t exactly a big surprise.”

  “It isn’t?”

  “Honey, I’ve seen your wine collection, your tape collection and your book collection. I’ve seen the skill with which you run your business and the way you keep accounts. I’ve seen the way you use gourmet cooking techniques to make things like sprouts and lentils into fine cuisine. If I’d worried about it, it wouldn’t have been hard to guess that you spent a few years somewhere else besides a tiny town on the coast.” “Oh.”

  “You made a decision, the same kind of decision I made,” he concluded blandly.

  She looked at him suspiciously. “What’s that sup­posed to mean?”

  His expression softened. The element of indulgent amusement that she was accustomed to seeing in his eyes was back. “Just that you and I have one more thing in common now. We both chose to leave the world of big business for another kind of life-style. Does that give you a little more reassurance? Because that’s what you’re looking for, isn’t it?”

  “Perhaps.” A flicker of resentment went through her. She wouldn’t need all this reassurance, she realized, if she just knew that Jess loved her. “Can you blame me for being uncertain, Jess?”

  “Yes,” he said unhesitatingly. “You’ve had time enough to get to know me. You shouldn’t still be ques­tioning my actions or my motives. Furthermore, you ought to have a little more faith in my ability to think for myself. I can tell the difference between the past and the present, and I sure as hell know the difference between you and Marina Carrington.”

  Elly nodded, feeling chastened. “I believe you.”

  “Fine. Then believe me when I tell you we’re going to be married next month, and there’s not a thing you can do about it except show up on time.”

  “I don’t think you even realize just how arrogant you are.”

  “I realize it, all right. But I’m running out of pa­tience.”

  “You mean your schedule is starting to slip, and you don’t like to have your plans upset,” she told him bluntly. “I, on the other hand, don’t take too well to being pro­grammed. One of the reasons I decided to leave corpo­rate life is that I don’t like being on someone else’s schedule. It’s too much like being on a menu. There’s a fair-sized chance of being chewed up and swallowed.”

  Jess considered her for a long moment. “Are you by any chance afraid of me, Elly, honey?”

  “No, I am not!”

  “Still love me?” His fingertips on her wrists began to move in wider circles. His gray eyes were taunting. He knew the answer.

  Flustered, Elly sighed in exasperation. She felt trapped. “Yes, I still love you, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to marry you next month!”

  He lowered his head and lingeringly kissed her throat. “You’re the only woman who has ever told me she loved me and meant it. Do you have any idea of how much that means to me? I’d walk through hell for your kind of love. Pacifying a few relatives for you is nothing.”

  “Oh, Jess…” She felt herself weakening almost at once. She was so very vulnerable to him, Elly thought in despair.

  “We both know you’re going to marry me, sweet­heart.” His mouth glided gently over the tip of her breast, and Elly shivered faintly. “I want your love. I want all the softness in you as well as the fire. I need to know you be­long to me.”

  “And in return, Jess?” Her fingers trembled as her palm flattened on his shoulder. “What will you give me in return?

  “Everything that counts. Everything I have to give a woman.”

  “I want to be loved, Jess. Do you think you’ll ever be able to give me that?”

  He went still, lifting his head to meet her pleading gaze. “Elly,” he said slowly, “I don’t know. I’m not sure I ever really knew what it meant to love in the first place. I said I’ll give you all I have to give. That’s as much as I can promise.”

  “You seem willing enough to take my love.”

  He framed her face with his hands and smiled down at her. “That’s because your love is so beautifully easy to recognize for what it is. It’s very clear, very soft, very real. I know you love me. My own feelings are too com­plex for me to sort out right now. But they’re real, too. Elly, I want you so badly I can taste it. Maybe that’s love. Do you want me to use the words?”

  She put her fingertips against his mouth. “No, not unless you know what you’re talking about. Not unless you mean them. I think you’re the one who’s afraid, Jess.”

  “Afraid of what?” His eyes lost some of their indul­gent warmth.

  “Of surrendering to love. It’s easy enough to let someone love you. After all, there’s no risk involved. But it’s far more reckless to be the one who loves. I think you’ve become a caut
ious man over the years. Perhaps Marina Carrington made you that way. Or perhaps you were always that way. It doesn’t really matter now. What does matter is that you feel safer when your life is very firmly under control and on schedule. Having me love you fits in very nicely with your plans. But loving me in return would entail some unknowns, wouldn’t it? You’d have to take a few risks. You’d have to make yourself vulnerable. I’m sure you find it much safer to stay on top of the situation emotionally. This way you think you have it all.”

  “I think,” Jess said coolly, “that’s about enough of the amateur psychoanalysis. I like it better when you’re making love to me, not discussing it.”

  “You’ll have to excuse me,” she snapped. “Maybe all this sex is rotting my brain.”

  “The problem,” Jess informed her as he slipped boldly into the cradle of her thighs, “is that you haven’t had nearly enough yet to set your thinking straight. But I’ll be happy to work on the problem.”

  “Jess, this is no way to settle an argument! We should

  talk this out___ Ah, Jess.” His name was a husky sound

  of capitulation. He was there between her thighs, prob­ing the soft folds of her feminity, testing for a renewed response. In spite of herself, Elly knew her body was al­ready giving him what he demanded.

  She could feel herself growing moist and sensitized, knew Jess was taking blatant satisfaction in the reaction he was provoking. He nestled his head beside her on the pillow and began whispering heavy, dark, infinitely arousing words of passion and promise. All the while he teased her with his body. The slow entrance was fol­lowed by a tantalizing withdrawal. Over and over again Jess played on the pattern until Elly thought she would go out of her mind.

  Finally, in gathering desperation, she pushed at him. He fell back obediently, and she slithered astride his hips. Closing her eyes she lowered herself, taking her fill at last. She moaned in soft pleasure as she took him inside her. When Elly lifted her lashes, she found Jess laughing up at her with his eyes, the triumphant male.

  “You are a beast,” she told him and ran her fingers upward through the curly hair of his chest. Slowly, she leaned forward until her breasts were pressed against him.

  “So are you, sweetheart. A very sweet lady beast who’s been running free a little too long. But I know how to tame you.”

  “Think so?” She felt good up here on top of him, Elly decided. She felt in command for once.

  “Watch this,” he ordered, his voice thick with prom­ise. “I’ll have you eating out of the palm of my hand in no time.”

  Slowly, he began to move inside her. His hands went to her hips, holding her in place while he established the cadence he wanted. Elly shuddered and gripped his shoulders, seeking to quicken the pace. She felt the ten­sion began to coil inside her and became more assertive as she sought its release. This kind of excitement was still new to her. It was associated with only one man, and she knew in her heart it would always be that way.

  “Jess, you’re deliberately tormenting me.”

  “It’s nice work if you can get it. And I’ve got it.”

  Her nails sank warningly into his shoulders when he refused to pick up the pace beneath her. Jess ignored the small punishment. The slow entrance and withdrawal pattern continued, and even though she was on top of him Elly found herself helpless to alter it. The frustratingly slow rhythm seemed to be setting fire to all her sen­ses. She tried to wriggle a bit and found herself anchored by Jess’s large, strong hands.

  “Tell me you love me, Elly.”

  “What will you give me if I do?”

  “What you’re looking for.” “Promise?” she breathed.

  “My word of honor.”

  Voice aching with passion and love, Elly whispered, “I love you, Jess.”

  “Don’t ever stop telling me, Elly.”

  His fingers slipped around her thighs to cup her but­tocks, and he began to move with fierce power. Elly cried out softly as the sensation in her lower body became un­bearable. The inevitable release sent spasms of excite­ment through her, leaving her shivering and voiceless for a long moment.

  Jess felt the pulsating response and was drawn by it into his own shuddering satisfaction. He gripped Elly with all his strength, driving up into her until both of them gave way beneath the overwhelming onslaught.

  “I love you, Jess.”

  The words were mere threads of sound as Elly col­lapsed in a damp, sensual sprawl,

  “Elly, my sweet, sexy, lovely Elly…” Jess held her close, making no effort to separate their still-fused bod­ies. This time he went right to sleep without spending any time contemplating the ceiling or the future.

  On Tuesday evening Elly wandered through her house watering plants and dusting various surfaces with a preoccupied air. Jess had phoned a few minutes earlier to make certain she had arrived safely from Portland. He had sounded satisfied with himself in more ways than one, and she knew he thought he had everything, in­cluding her, under control.

  “We’re back on schedule,” she told the African vi­olets in the kitchen window. “On time and on line. Trentco has been saved for the next generation, some semblance of family ties has been restored, and yours truly has been brought to heel. Leave it to an expert to get things back in order. I suppose I should be grateful he’s not charging his usual fees.”

  She could hardly complain about the way Jess had handled the family situation, Elly told herself. The man had done exactly what he’d said he would do. He’d con­vinced everyone, including Aunt Clara, that he knew what he was doing, and they had all obediently voted not to sell Trentco. Matt Harrigan was delighted and prom­ised immediate signs of increased profits. Order had been brought out of chaos and discord.

  Elly had been forced to realize that she had been fret­ting over nothing. Jess hadn’t associated her short-lived stylishness with his ex-wife. He’d simply been annoyed because he had assumed Elly was trying to maintain a certain distance. Nor had he been even slightly ruffled by the effort it took to deal with her squabbling relatives. Apparently after dealing with the Carringtons, the Trents seemed quite tame to him. Again she had worried for no good reason.

  Elly wandered into the living room and stood glaring thoughtfully at the collection of ivy plants. She’d done a lot of worrying lately. In fact, it amounted to more than worrying, and it was all connected to Jess Winter. She’d accused him of being afraid to love, but when she viewed the matter objectively, she could see that she was the one who had spent so much time being afraid lately.

  She’d been afraid of pushing him, afraid of provok­ing a violent confrontation between Jess and Damon Carrington, afraid of reminding Jess of his ex-wife, afraid that her own family troubles might be equated with the problems he’d had with the Carringtons.

  Good grief, Elly thought as she tipped the watering can over the ivy plant, I’m the one who’s been running scared. She had let her love of Jess make her a nervous wreck.

  Alarmed by the sudden direction of her reasoning, Elly continued through the house with the watering can. By the time she arrived back in the living room she was deep in thought. Absently, she gazed at herself in the mirror that hung over the fireplace. Her intently frowning im­age gazed back at her.

  She was formulating a lecture, one she intended to ad­minister to herself, when another face materialized in the mirror. Through the open drapes of the window behind her a woman was watching her—a stunningly beautiful woman with long blond hair.

  Elly knew before she whirled around that even though she couldn’t see the woman’s eyes clearly, they would be a vivid green.

  “Marina!”

  Eight

  Shock held Elly immobilized for several endless seconds after the woman’s face had disappeared. If that was the mysterious prowler Jess had seen the night she had tried to seduce him, it was no wonder he had muttered his ex-wife’s name. Elly went cold as she stood staring at the window. Damon in a wig? A woman made up to resem­ble Marina Carr
ington? And for God’s sake, whyl Whoever it was had been laughing at her.

  It was that fact that finally gave Elly the impetus to lurch away from the front of the mirror. Without paus­ing to think, she hurled herself across the room and yanked open the front door.

  She found herself staring into Damon Carrington’s amused face. He was standing on her front porch, and he was holding a small, snub-nosed gun. The cold smile

  looked exactly like the one worn by the woman in the window, but with an indefinable difference.

  “Hello, Elly. I was just about to knock. Something shake you up? You look nervous.”

  Instinctively, Elly flung herself backward into the safety of the house, intending to slam the door. But it was too late. Damon already had his foot over the threshold, and he lifted the gun in his hand with casual menace.

  “Sorry, I’m afraid I can’t let you run and hide. I need you tonight, Elly love. I’ve got plans for you. Keep in mind that I will use the gun if necessary. I’d prefer to keep you in reasonably good condition, but I can adapt to changing circumstances if there’s no alternative. Translated, that means don’t oblige me to put a bullet in your leg.”

  Elly’s eyes jerked from the gun to Damon’s face. Her voice felt dry and raspy. “That was you at the win­dow?”

  “In a way.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Elly demanded, using anger to hold back some of her fear. It wasn’t Damon who answered.

  “He means that the woman in the window was me.” Blond hair cascading around her shoulders, Marina Carrington walked through Elly’s front door.

  There was no mistaking her. Elly knew her at once. She was a feminized version of Damon, right down to the amusement that flickered in her green eyes. She was wearing a black silk shirt and black slacks that presented a striking foil for the silvery blond hair. A pair of boots fashioned of obviously expensive leather completed the outfit. The clothes reminded Elly of a twentieth century version of a traditional witch’s black cape and pointed shoes.

  “All you lack is the hat,” Elly muttered, hugging her­self in an unconsciously defensive gesture.