"What about Stephanie?" At the moment, Trinity’s brain couldn’t sort through its surprise to decide what he could possibly want to know about her daughter.
"About her father, the man who was your lover." The words were bit out between clenched teeth, and, when Trinity didn’t immediately respond, because she was trying to decide why he would want to know such a thing, Chase continued with a sneer. "Or is it too painful for you? Does his love hurt too much to think about?"
"No," Trinity answered slowly, her green eyes perplexed. "It doesn’t hurt, because I have only good memories."
"Well then, where the hell is he?" Chase snapped out. He rose abruptly and paced over to the bar, pouring himself another brandy. His obvious anger was revealed by his very controlled movements. "What kind of man would leave you to raise his child alone?"
"A dead man, Chase," Trinity declared bluntly. "He died of leukemia five months before Stephanie was born."
Chase turned and stared at her broodingly, his light-blue eyes missing nothing about her. He took another drink of his brandy, slower this time. "Then tell me about him."
"Okay," she agreed calmly, shrugging her shoulders. "I don’t mind talking about it if you really want to know."
"I really want to know," he assured her caustically.
"His name was Stephen, and I met him in college. We fell in love and were going to be married as soon as we graduated, but Stephen was hospitalized suddenly and then . . . there was no time left."
"Did he know you were pregnant?"
"No. I didn’t want to add to his burden by telling him. He was just too sick, and there was nothing he could have done about it anyway."
Chase pondered the swirling brandy. "He could have married you," he shot out, "given the child his name."
"I gave the baby his name—Stephanie."
"It can’t have been easy for you"—Chase continued to pursue the subject with a bewildering relentlessness—"even in this day and age. Did you think about having an abortion?"
"Not . . . for . . . one . . . minute." Her loud, clear and firm reply echoed around the still room.
Chase raked his hands through the sliver length of his hair and slanted her a considering glance. "Do you still love him?"
Trinity paused for a moment, thinking out her answer carefully. She wanted to give as honest an answer as she could. Somehow she sensed that it was terribly important. "Part of me will always love him. He gave me Stephanie and I’ll never apologize to anyone for that. But it was so long ago, and life goes on. I’m not still in love with him. Does that answer your question?"
Chase paced back to the bar and set his glass down. Hunching his shoulders, he appeared to be deliberating some weighty matter.
Trinity regarded him quietly, waiting for his next move, watching the way the muscles in his upper arms tightened tensely as he leaned against the bar.
Why this strange man should have the power to affect her so greatly was beyond her. But every time he breathed, there was an answering movement inside of her, and she didn’t know what to do about it.
Maybe tomorrow she would think about the ramifications, but right now all she could concentrate on was the way the breadth of his shoulders stretched out the black silk of his shirt and the manner in which the gray slacks molded his lean hips, following gently the curve of his firm male buttocks and on down the long, muscled length of his legs.
Trinity couldn’t stand the strained silence one minute more. She had to get up, go to him, find out what was wrong. Tentatively placing a hand on his shoulder, she jumped when he quickly turned.
The heat emanating from his blue eyes was a tangible thing. Boring straight into her, his eyes effortlessly transferred their raging passion to her. His two hands cupped her face, looking at her, absorbing every detail, from the slight trembling of her lips to the matching heat in her eyes.
"Oh, Trinity," Chase muttered thickly, "I honestly think there’s only one thing that I can do with you."
His lips were hard and sure, and Trinity opened her mouth to his without hesitancy. All night long, she had yearned just for this, and she gave herself up to the shivers of sweetness their joined lips were creating within her.
Her arms slid around his neck, and her fingers threaded into the rich vitality of the silver-whiteness of his hair. Lifting her in his arms, Chase carried her the short distance to the sofa and lowered her onto the sensuous velvet material.
Following her down, he murmured into her throat, "How I kept my hands off you all evening is beyond me."
"Why did you try?" Trinity gasped, as his hand found the one tie that secured the dress around her waist and undid it. Slowly he unwrapped the dress from about her, leaving only a pair of narrow panties to keep her from being completely naked.
"God!" Chase groaned huskily at the sight of her. Compulsively, he ran a trembling hand over the silky texture of her skin, closing on one swollen breast and lowering his mouth to its tip. "You’ll never know the effort it took, but if I had touched you before now, I couldn’t have stopped, and I had to ask you about Stephanie."
His lips and teeth played with one hard nipple, while his hand caressed the other. His words were warm around the pink tip, fondling it, heating it, in an entirely new and exciting way.
Trinity squirmed against him and murmured, "Why?"
"I had to make sure there was no one else. I want you too badly to share you."
"Oh, Chase," Trinity whispered weakly, pulling his mouth up to hers again and capturing his tongue.
His hand had lowered to go between her legs, skillfully pulling the last scrap of material off and then gently prying them apart. Trinity moaned as her body received two of his fingers, and she arched shamelessly up to him, giving away just how ready she was for him.
"God, Trinity! You are the most beautiful, the most desirable, woman I have ever known. Tell me Stephen never touched you like this, before I go out of my mind."
Trinity was too crazed by the desire his kneading hand and caressing fingers were causing to do anything but tell the truth. "It was just once," she moaned. "Nothing like this."
"Did he make you feel as wild as you do with me?" he persisted. "I have to know."
"No," she gasped. "I’ve never felt like . . . this before. Never."
"Say you want me as much as I want you," Chase commanded huskily.
There was a split second in time when Trinity’s mind cleared and she thought about what was happening. What would the result be of giving herself to Chase? Would it mean the same thing to him as it did to her? And what did it mean to her?
But then she felt Chase’s fingers push into her, and she had to answer. "Yes, Chase, yes!"
What was the use of denying it? Their lovemaking was something that had to happen. She was lying naked under him, her body moist with its desire—a desire that had been steadily building for two days and three nights, and there was nothing she could do about it. Glorying in the undulating rhythm of his tongue and of his fingers inside her, there was only one thing she wanted more, and she had to have it.
Fumbling for the catch on the waistband of his trousers, her words were almost a plea. "Chase . . . please . . . please make love to me."
Removing his fingers from her fervent body, he assisted her. In less than a minute, he was undressed, and with slitted eyes glazed with desire, Trinity reached for him.
This passion the two of them shared had to be taken care of, and it would have been akin to attempting to turn back the tide for either of them to try to stop it.
His tongue was circling her ear, and she felt the soft waves of his breath against the small opening, whispering, "There’s no way I’ll let you go now."
He entered her at once, with a hard, driving motion, causing their need to scorch through them both, sending them into the frenzied, beautiful movements of passion. The urgent fire that raced through their blood reached a quick boiling point and. as Trinity pushed against Chase’s thrust, their desire bubbled over, drenching
them both in the wonder of their absolute satisfaction.
A long time later, Trinity heard a phone ringing from somewhere close by. She stirred and felt Chase’s arms tighten around her as he reached over the side of the couch and picked up the phone, answering with a husky, impatient, "Yes?"
At the sound of whoever was on the other end, Trinity could feel all the relaxation—the gratifying result of their lovemaking—leave Chase’s body. Lying in the crook of his arms, Trinity moved her head curiously so that she could see his face. By now, she could hear that the caller was feminine, although she couldn’t understand the words the person was speaking. But Chase’s compressed face told her all she needed to know, and Trinity decided she didn’t really want to hear this conversation.
As she attempted to get up, Chase’s arms bound her even closer, so that she was forced to lie where she was and hear him snarl cuttingly, "Forget it. It’s over, Melissa. Accept it."
A shiver ran up Trinity’s spine at the coldness she heard in Chase’s voice, and she knew, if she could see his eyes, the ice that she had fought so hard to remove would be firmly back In place.
He had paused, apparently listening, but then continued brutally. "What we once had, if anything, is gone. There’s no need to drag it out. Good-bye, Melissa."
Chase hung up the phone, and Trinity could feel some of his tension subside. He apologized in a clipped, husky voice. "I’m sorry."
"Chase . . ." Trinity murmured, "couldn’t you have been kinder?"
"With some people, cruelty is the best form of kindness. We won’t be bothered by her again," Chase declared with complete confidence.
If that remark was supposed to reassure her, it failed miserably. Trinity escaped his hold. Getting up, she began to dress. She stepped into her panties, then picked up her dress from the floor, wrapped it around her, and tied it firmly in place.
Chase watched her with hooded eyes from his vantage point on the couch that had made such a successful bed. "Where do you think you’re going?"
"Home," she answered succinctly, pushing a heavy swath of hair behind one ear.
"You can stay the night. You told me that Stephanie is sleeping over at your sister’s."
"The fact that I can doesn’t alter the fact that I’m not going to," Trinity muttered, scanning the floor for her shoes.
"Why?"
"Look." Trinity expelled her breath with a sigh of exasperation. "Just consider this the end of another one-night stand and leave it at that. Okay?"
"No! It’s not okay, Trinity." Chase got up off the bed with a movement of swift grace and walked over to her.
Trinity located one shoe and then turned to seize the other. She was trying very hard not to look at Chase. His presence was an enticing temptation, and it was too soon after their lovemaking for her to forget just how powerfully his body had pleasured her—if she ever could forget.
Straightening, she heard Chase behind her, his voice grating with annoyance. "What’s the matter, Trinity? You’re acting like an outraged virgin who has just been taken advantage of. And," he drawled disparagingly, "you were sure no virgin."
"No," Trinity agreed bitterly, swinging around to face him, a shoe in each hand. "No, I wasn’t a virgin. But I lost my virginity in an act of love, and it has suddenly occurred to me that there was no love involved in what just happened between us."
Trinity didn’t add that hearing his response to the unknown Melissa had made her realize that she wanted no part of an affair with him. She refused to put herself in the position where one day it might be her on the other end of the phone. She would rather be the one to say good-bye— now—before she became any more involved than she already was with this strange, hard man.
"So?" Chase crossed his arms over his chest, not attempting to hide his nakedness. "Is love so important to you that you’re going to try to deny what’s between us?"
"Yes, love is important to me." Her eyes blazed a bright, vivid green and her brown hair was disheveled from having Chase’s hands run through it over and over. "And I’m not going to deny that there’s something between us. Only a fool would try. But there has to be something more for me. Desire without love is nothing more than a profanity."
"Then, baby, if what just happened between us is profane desire, I’ll take all I can get." The tone of his voice was hard and cold, and Trinity turned away from him, trembling with an uncommon hurt.
"You were wrong to assume that just because I—"
"That’s the truth!" He bit out each word savagely. "I should have known better than to assume anything about you."
"It’s no use, Chase. I won’t have an affair with you. What happened tonight was more than inevitable, but it won’t happen again."
Rough arms swung her around, and consuming lips ground into hers. Grasping his shoulders to keep from falling, Trinity could not stop the traitorous need in her body from leaping to a life of its own, and she clung to him as if the survival of her world depended on it.
Nonetheless, when he pulled away and held her at arm’s length, Trinity, white-faced and shaking, gathered her strength and reiterated carefully. "Chase, I’ve got a daughter to raise, a farm to run and a living to make. I don’t have time to become just another dalliance for you. Now, are you going to take me home, or am I going to have to walk?"
Chase raked impatient fingers through his hair and pounced over to the phone. Jerking it up, he viciously punched out two numbers. "Bring the Lincoln around," he barked to some unfortunate person on the other end of the line before he slammed the receiver down and pulled on his pants.
#
The big white Lincoln glided through the night, smoothing the bumps out of the still-incomplete shortcut that connected their two farms.
Trinity sat huddled in the corner of the front seat, tense and silent, trying not to speculate on why he wasn’t taking her home in the Lamborghini. Had her objections about the other car reached him after all? Did he really care what she thought? And what did it matter to her if he did?
Pulling to a halt in front of the farmhouse and killing the engine, Chase reached over to hold her door closed, preventing the hasty exit she had planned.
He was very close, and his breath fluttered warmly over her face, as he whispered softly, "I want you, Trinity Ann Warrenton. Again and again. Now . . . I’ve laid my cards on the table. It’s your turn. You tell me: What’s it going to take to get you?"
Trinity shook her head sadly. "Oh, Chase. We obviously don’t even speak the same language."
"Our bodies do," Chase avowed softly, provocatively, bringing his hand up to trace her slightly swollen lips with the tips of his fingers.
Trinity’s gaze wandered over Chase’s hard-boned face, stopping to dip into the smoldering blue depths of his eyes, trying to fathom the man. Even now, she could feel her body’s need for him, and she knew if she said the word, he would turn the car around and take her back to his house as fast as the Lincoln would go.
But she couldn’t do that. Her feelings were too confused—she just wasn’t sure how she felt about Chase. Was it possible that she could be in love with him? The thought was staggering!
The only thing that she could really be sure of was that he didn’t love her. That knowledge alone should have been enough to completely turn her off. Unfortunately, it wasn’t. Still wanting him, she opened the car door and got out.
And later, in the loneliness of the night and in the chasteness of her bed, Trinity tried very hard to believe that she had made the right decision.
Chapter Four
Much to Trinity’s surprise, the next few days turned out to be alternately interesting and infuriating, amusing and annoying—starting with the following afternoon, when a delivery van pulled up in front of the house.
The sign on its side proclaimed the van to be from a florist shop in a nearby town, and Trinity, who had wandered to the door, watched curiously as a man in his early fifties approached carrying a vase of red roses, with a younger assistant foll
owing behind, carrying two more vases of roses.
Reaching the porch, the man peered suspiciously over his black-rimmed glasses. "I have a delivery for a Miss Trinity Ann Warrenton. Is that you?"
"Yes." Trinity admitted dubiously. "Can I help you?"
The man’s face cleared immediately. "I’m Jasper Briggs, from Briggs Florist," he informed her genially. "These are for you. Where do you want them?"
"All of them?"
"Yes, ma’am. All three dozen."
"Well. . . any place will do, I guess." She opened the screen door, taking a pile of Stephanie’s books off a nearby table and pointing. "Right here will be fine."
The young assistant started to put down the two vases he carried, but jumped as his boss bellowed, "Be careful! Those vases are gen-u-ine crystal." Turning to Trinity, he confided, "That’s why we were a little late delivering them. We had to scour the countryside for those vases. This was a very unusual order, and I don’t mind telling you, I’ve been a little nervous about it."
"Really?" Trinity viewed the roses with a new cynicism.
"Yep. Here you go, little lady. This card and package go with the roses."
Trinity didn’t like the uneasy feeling she was getting. "Would you mind waiting outside, please?" she requested coolly. "I’d like to get you something for your trouble."
Once alone, she tore into the glossy sliver paper and viewed the green velvet box with a sinking heart. Sitting down abruptly, she couldn’t seem to stop the tremors that shook her hands as she opened the lid.
A gasp escaped Trinity’s lips. There before her, nestled on a bed of green velvet, was a pair of stunning emerald earrings. And gleaming brilliantly below them, a matching emerald pendant lay swinging from a delicate gold chain.
Ripping open the card, she read the bold black scrawl. "A dozen red roses for each day I have known you and an emerald for each night. Chase."
Trinity sat quietly, stunned. What was Chase doing? She had been very clear when she had told him she wouldn’t go to bed with him again. The man obviously didn’t believe in taking no for an answer—no doubt fostered by years of having everything his own way, especially where women were concerned.
Silver Miracles Page 5