by Rita Herron
Harry Henderson completely shattered her composure, though, when he strode in, all six-feet-three of pure muscle and male attitude.
On second glance, however, his flirty smile wavered, the color had drained from his face, and his fake dark hair was sticking up like spikes. Worse, his mustache hung askew as if he'd slapped it on at the last minute in a drunken stupor.
Aware cameras were everywhere, Abby rushed to him, grabbed his face, and twisted the mustache upright. He stumbled backward, his shoes squeaking as water seeped from the Italian loafers, leaving footprints on the plush gray carpeting. And a strange odor drifted upward....
"Sorry," he murmured. "Guess I was in a rush."
Abby frowned, ignoring the fact that his Tom Selleck looks lit a fire inside her even when he appeared a little worse for wear.
Kay Lin glanced at the soggy carpet, then at Harry, then ushered him to the green room, while Abby settled into the love seat for the interview. A few minutes later, Harry wobbled back in, still looking shaken, but his cheeks were rosy with makeup.
Soft trumpet music signaled the introduction of the show; then Kay Lin launched onto the set, hitting the highlights of Abby's book like a pro, summarizing some of the basic communication problems Abby had described and the differences between men's and women's thinking.
"Tell us, Dr. Jensen, if you had to choose one piece of advice from your book, the one you feel is most important, what would it be?"
No need to labor over that question. "I would tell people to listen to their lovers."
Harry squeezed her hand, sending shards of awareness through her as he murmured, "Yes, trust and communication is the key."
Abby tensed, but he toyed with her fingers, pulling them into his lap. His palms felt clammy, the only sign of his nerves.
"That's right," Abby said softly, reminding herself he was simply playing his part. "You can't communicate effectively without trust. Whether you're trying to discuss finances, your future, your dreams, or your children, or if you're making love."
"Do you two plan to have children?"
Abby's heart squeezed. "I adore children. Yes, I'd love to have a family someday."
"Kids are the greatest thing in the world." The sincerity in his voice surprised her; then she remembered he had a daughter. Maybe Harry wasn't so irresponsible after all. What had gone wrong with his marriage...?
"It's obvious you two won't be waiting long," Kay Lin said with a laugh. "Now, Dr. Jensen. You have some exercises in your book that you suggest couples do to improve their relationships. Would you and your husband demonstrate one for us?"
The air jammed in Abby's windpipe. Harry's sideways cocky grin rattled her even more. "Of course we'd love to, wouldn't we, sweetheart?" Harry brushed his lips across her fingers. "We want everyone's marriage to be as perfect as ours."
Chapter 13
Listening to Your Lover
A perfect lie. If the audience only knew...
"I suppose we could demonstrate some techniques," Abby murmured, shifting restlessly.
"Great. Before we get started, though, I have a couple more questions. Your book has unleashed some controversy," Kay Lin commented. "Most psychologists say people model their behavior and relationships after their parents' relationships. Would you agree?"
"Sometimes, yes," Abby said. "But not always. A percentage of children recognize their parents' problems and search for a different kind of relationship."
"Is that how you turned into a proponent for the traditional family when your own parents never married?"
A slight intake of breath revealed Abby's nerves, but she quickly masked her emotions. "I suppose so, although as therapist I try to avoid self-analysis."
"Would you indulge us, though, for a moment and speak briefly about your own childhood?"
Obviously uncomfortable, Abby laced her hands on her knees. "It's true my parents never married. My mother is a free spirit, and grew up in the seventies, when love and peace and living together had just become popular, so I guess you could say she was asserting her independence. A woman of the times." Abby laughed. "Or maybe a little ahead of the times."
The audience chuckled, playing into her hand like putty.
"And your father?"
"My father adored her, but they ultimately had irreconcilable differences." Traces of pain softened her tone.
"On the other hand, I was very close to my grandparents. They've been together for sixty years, so they provided the inspiration for my beliefs about marriage." She paused. "Also, I think when someone has been deprived of the kind of family he or she wants, that deprivation will motivate him to strive to build a good relationship of his own."
Kay Lin nodded. "And what about you, Mr. Jensen? Did you grow up in a stable family?"
"I had two parents, yes, although they didn't always see eye to eye." He remembered his act just in time to clasp Abby's hands in his and place them over his heart. "But Abby and I plan to have a long and happy life together, don't we, sweetheart?"
His gaze met hers and she nodded, but he recognized deep pain simmering below the surface, and emotions plucked at him.
How could he write a story about this woman and hurt her when she actually seemed sincere about her beliefs? She honestly thought she was helping people. Maybe she did help some individuals.
But she had torn his family apart without even meeting all of them. Shelly had thrown Abby's words in his face time and again in the last weeks of their marriage, pointing out how he failed on any number of counts. His mind drifted back over the time they were together, the differences in them, the fact that Shelly had always complained about him, that she had never been happy.
Had Shelly simply been looking for a way out and used Abby as a scapegoat?
* * *
"So what would you say is the most important ingredient in keeping a relationship alive? I know you mentioned listening to your partner; are there others?"
Lenny's deceptive face flashed into Abby's mind. "Honesty. Love. And respect." None of which Lenny had had for her.
"Mr. Jensen, how do you feel about your wife's work?"
Harry cleared his throat, his hand twitching inside hers, but his smile oozed with charisma.
He should land a part in a major film after this charade.
"My wife is a masterpiece with words. She really cares about the people she's helping." He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers, his lips lingering seductively. "And of course, I'm glad to offer my assistance in her research."
Kay Lin laughed along with the audience. "On that note, I think it's time to have our demonstration. Dr. Jensen, are you ready?"
No. "Yes."
"Mr. Jensen?"
"I'm looking forward to it."
Challenge filled his voice, his sultry smile only adding to the quiet tension building between them.
"Okay, Dr. Jensen, it's your show."
Abby inhaled a calming breath and tried to imagine she was in her office, conducting normal therapy, leading a needy couple into one of her relaxation exercises.
"When two people first fall in love, each feels a euphoria at the sound of the other person's voice or when they first walk into a room. Physical reactions prove this," Abby began. "The person's heartbeat accelerates, their palms turn sweaty, breathing becomes unsteady. But later, when the newness wears off, especially after years of marriage, those physical responses fade. We all get distracted by daily life." She paused. "Hectic schedules, the stress of our jobs, children, family issues and problems, there are a million things that can interfere with a person's mental state as well as their sexual drive."
A few people in the audience amened her comment.
"My program and the exercises in the book encourage people to take time to nurture their relationships. To tune in to their partner's needs, to show more affection. A family should set aside time to discuss problems, so they don't linger and fester and follow the couple into the bedroom."
Abby faced H
arry and gestured for him to angle his chair toward hers. "First; I encourage a couple to look into each other's eyes and really see the other person. To listen to the feelings and emotions your partner may express through his body gestures, his movements, the expression on his face."
She demonstrated by gazing into Harry's eyes. Hunger and desire sparkled there, along with other emotions she couldn't read. "I encourage them to focus on the positive things about their spouse, to look for the beauty, the inner qualities that first attracted them to their partner."
"So there's no touching yet?" Harry asked.
The audience laughed.
"Not physically, but there's touching with the heart. With the eyes, with the soul. When you tune in to another person's needs and become more giving, the other person automatically does the same." Abby's soft voice quieted the crowd. "Next, I ask each client to tell their partner the things they admire or like. The things they want. The places that crave the other's touch."
"Show us," Kay Lin suggested.
Abby glanced at the host, then back at Harry. He nodded, his mouth twitching into a smile that twisted mischievously at his broad jaw.
"All right. In the beginning, I ask couples to remain dressed when they do this. But later on I suggest they remove their clothes and do the same exercise with the lights dimmed. Obviously we can't take our clothes off on TV."
A few people in the audience called out, "Why not?" while others chuckled. Harry Henderson had the nerve to wink. As if on cue, the TV crew dimmed the lighting to a soft glow.
"Sometimes I ask couples to sit in the dark with only a single candle lit." She took the actor's hands, her heart pounding at the electricity that zinged through her. Since she didn't know Harry very well, she focused first on her physical responses to him. "I like the sound of your voice when you say my name in the dark, Har—"
He made eyes at her.
"Lenny. And I appreciate the way you stand by me no matter what I ask of you."
His dark eyebrow arched. "Your eyes hypnotize me, Abby. And your voice reminds me of an old blues song, soft and husky, like a kiss in the night."
Abby swallowed. Wow, he was good. "Your hands feel so strong and warm that just touching them sends desire surging through me. And when I look into your eyes, I see love and strength. I see a man I want to be with."
"Can we touch now?" Harry asked, his voice gruff.
The audience laughed again.
"Not yet," she murmured. "Tell me how you want to touch me."
He coughed, an odd look on his face. "My hands itch to caress you, Abby. To thread themselves in your hair." His fingers tightened around hers. The crowd grew still. "To pull the pins from your hair and let it fall around your shoulders. To sift my hands through those long, wild curls." His eyes became hooded. "To tear that shirt off of you and press my lips to the soft skin at your neck. To suckle your—"
"Well, I believe you have the idea," Abby said, abruptly cutting him off.
She turned to the audience, ignoring the heat rising between her and Harry. Releasing the breath she didn't even realize she'd been holding, she gasped when the front clasp of her bra snapped open. Drat. Her breasts spilled over the cups inside her shirt. If she moved the wrong way...
She pressed her arms tightly by her sides to keep the underwire pads from slipping into her armpits, and smiled tightly at Harry. Damn, the man had her all shaken up. Her nipples were hard as rocks. And he had only been acting.
Hadn't he?
* * *
A few minutes later, Hunter gripped the producer's hand and bade him good-bye, willing his body back to normalcy. He'd made a fool out of himself over Abby Jensen.
Granted, everyone thought he was playing a part, but he'd meant every damn word he'd said.
What the hell was happening to him?
Stress over too much work? Over not being with Lizzie enough?
Being attracted to a sexy woman wasn't a crime, he reminded himself. And although at first he'd thought the woman wasn't his type, now he could see he'd been wrong.
Oh, he'd been dead wrong.
Because Abby Jensen was one sexy lady.
She might not be his type for a long-term relationship, but she had definitely awakened his sex drive—a sex drive that had been sleeping since Shelly had divorced him a year ago. And although he normally was a boob man, her ass looked great and tempting.
Arguments warred in his head. Maybe she was his type all the way around. She claimed she wanted marriage and a family. The same things he'd wanted since Lizzie came into his life.
But her methods were unorthodox. She had no right to stir up trouble with her book, making women think they weren't happy with their men. And he wouldn't be suckered in by those haunting angelic eyes or that sultry, seductive voice.
Besides, she claimed honesty was one of the three most important factors in keeping a relationship strong while she was lying to everyone, including him.
And she still had a freaking husband!
He was so lost in turmoil, he didn't realize she'd moved up beside him. They walked together through the backstage, past the other sound rooms, and out into the night. Stars glittered from a moonlit sky, a breeze stirred the surrounding trees, and the whisper of her exotic perfume wafted toward him. He tried to focus on the city lights ahead, the beauty of the Atlanta skyline, the buzz of people and traffic.
She turned to him amidst the hum of it all, a cool, detached look in place.
Obviously she hadn't meant what she'd said about wanting to be with him.
"Thanks, Harry. You did a great job."
"You're not such a bad actress yourself." She winced and he realized his bitterness had rung through.
"I don't like lying like this, Harry." She stood awkwardly, her arms pressed to her sides like a tin soldier.
"Why don't you tell me what's going on, Abby? Maybe I can help."
"I... I can't."
He steeled himself against the vulnerable look in her eyes. "I guess it's just a job for both of us then. But you want to continue the charade?" He'd given her the opening. He waited with bated breath, hoping she'd tell him the truth.
Not for the story now, but for him.
She didn't comment, simply gnawed on that bottom lip, and tightened her arms as if she thought he might grab her any second. Damn, it was tempting.
The skin on her bottom lip turned red with her bite marks. He found himself wanting to touch it. To kiss away the pain. To hear her husky voice murmur those words she'd whispered during their exercise. Except this time she would mean them.
"I have to keep up pretenses right now," she whispered. "Until I find Lenny."
"Right."
He shifted, his shoes still squeaking with water in the silence.
"What happened earlier, Harry? Were you hungover when you came in?"
"Hungover?" Anger splintered through him. Anger that she wouldn't be honest. That she thought he might be irresponsible enough to show up drunk. Anger at the whole situation.
"No, Abby. For your information, I just came from a harrowing day at the fair with my daughter. I rode the Dragon seven times with her and nearly broke my neck on this ride called Drop Dead, Fred." He shuddered, remembering the feeling of being dropped through the air upside down with nothing but that flimsy rope tied around him. "God, I hate heights, and that one dropped me into a pool of water."
Abby suddenly chuckled, and he realized what he'd just admitted. The fact that she'd driven him to confess his phobia only infuriated him more. And now she was driving the knife deeper into his wounded pride by laughing out loud at him.
"Did you tell your little girl about your acting role?"
Right. Like he'd confess that to a five-year-old. "My daughter is too young to know about your book or sex."
Abby's mouth gaped. "You make me sound like a pervert. I'm not suggesting you read my book to her."
"I didn't mean that, but she's only five."
"Well, granted, that's too you
ng for a full explanation, but insinuating that sex is something dirty isn't healthy either."
"I didn't say it was dirty. I just avoid the subject." He rubbed a hand over his face, and his mustache came off in his hands.
"Don't you want her to grow up to be a normal, healthy, sexual woman?"
"No. Hell, no." Panic seized him at the thought. "I hope she doesn't find out about sex until she's at least forty."
"That's a tad archaic, Harry."
Archaic? "Look, Dr. Jensen, I don't believe in all this hogwash in your book. And if you want to know about archaic, I'll show you. This is archaic." His temper boiling, he dragged her into his arms, lowered his head and claimed her mouth with his, releasing all the pent-up frustration and fire in his body and his loins into the kiss.
* * *
Abby struggled not to succumb to the dangerous passion brewing between her and this actor, but his hands yanked her into the vee of his thighs, his corded muscles bulged against her legs, and her knees buckled. Surrendering was not an option. He was plundering at will.
She had never been kissed like this.
Not by a man who exuded such potent desire for her.
The feeling was drastically unsettling and titillating at the same time. He was like a caveman, barbaric and forceful. His hands cupped her face as he drove his lips over hers and ravaged her mouth with his tongue. The rasp of his labored breath ripped another layer of fight from her, and she clung helplessly to him, her nails digging into the strong muscles of his arms. His hands slowly dropped, brushed across her shoulder blades, stroked her arms, cupped her bottom and pulled her closer—so close his sex hardened and throbbed against her own burning heat.
Then his hands were everywhere, stroking and rubbing. His lips traced a path down her neck, nipping and suckling until she moaned and leaned into him. Tortured by his mouth, she could only gasp for breath as his hands found her waist and his fingers danced up to her breasts. Then suddenly he pulled away, a perplexed look on his face. "What the hell?" Laughter followed.
Abby's cheeks burned as she glanced down and saw the pads of her bra floating up around her shoulders.