Quiet Walks the Tiger

by Heather Graham

“I’m going,” he told them both quickly, glancing at the students who awaited their instructors’ words before dispersing. “Jim—be seeing you. Sloan—I’ll be by at about eight. I’ll get George and Cassie first.” With a wave he was gone, his broad-shouldered frame drawing speculative and appreciating gazes as he retreated out of the stage wings.

  “Watch it, Sloan,” Jim muttered mischievously. “I can see your mind ticking. The beast is wrapped around your finger, but I think it’s the tail you’re wrapping, and if you’re not careful, he’s going to feel the pull.”

  “Jim—” Sloan began to protest with a frown.

  “I’ll bet you didn’t know he was a Scorpio.” Jim overrode her objection. “Scorpios are known for their sting.”

  Sloan smiled dryly. “Go dismiss the kids, will you, Mr. Astrology. I’m not pulling tails, and I’m not going to get stung. You tell me you like the man, but then you sound as if you think he is a beast!”

  “No—you misunderstand. I do like the man—maybe because there’s no hedging or backing down about him. But I’m not in your position!” With that enigmatic advice, Jim quirked his brows and turned to the waiting students.

  Sloan showered and dressed carefully, choosing a soft knit with a flaring skirt for the evening. She was nervous, knowing that this night was it—the make it or break it for herself. Qualms of conscience assailed her while she did try to convince herself that she had him wrapped around her finger.

  After tucking the kids in, she returned to her own room to make a last-minute check on her appearance. The dress molded to her curvacious form like a glove; her hair, brushed from the chignon, fell about her face in soft waves, giving her the impression of innocence. Radiant happiness gave her face a beautiful glow, and she laughed uneasily.

  “Maybe I am in love with him!” she told her reflection. Love was, after all, an elusive word composed of many emotions. It was also something which, nurtured correctly, could grow to endless bounds.

  The doorbell rang, and she gave her dress a final straightening before running breathlessly to answer the clanging summons. Wesley filled the doorway with his imposing frame, causing her heart to skip for a second. In a black tux and sky-blue shirt he was impeccable, handsome beyond all earthly rights in a way that was still rugged and slightly savage in spite of his formal dress.

  Sloan didn’t realize she had been staring until his special teasing grin spread across his face and he murmured, “I think we should come in. Florence can hardly watch the children from outside!”

  Sloan blushed, lowered her eyes, and moved away from the door. Wes ushered Florence inside, then followed suit himself.

  “Any instructions, young lady?” Florence asked cheerfully.

  “Ah...no,” Sloan said quickly. “The kids are asleep, and you know where everything is. Make yourself at home, and Florence...thank you, very much.”

  “Nonsense!” Florence said briskly. “You two run along and have a good time. Your sister and brother-in-law are already in the car.”

  Sloan could not remember a more pleasant evening in her entire life. A more congenial foursome could not have existed; wine and conversation could not have flowed more fluidly. Dancing with Wes, sitting beside him and receiving his casual, intimate touch, was the most natural thing in the world. For a time she was content thinking how lucky it was that Wesley seemed to belong with her group, then she realized, with a bit of awe, that it wasn’t Wesley who had found his niche, it was she. She belonged with him. And she loved that belonging. No one had ever made her feel so very alive, so vibrantly aware. Not even Terry. No, not even Terry had held her with such competent arms, had thrilled and excited her with a simple glance or possessive touch on a shoulder.

  Cassie suddenly stifled a yawn with embarrassment. “Excuse me!” she apologized.

  “Company boring you, huh?” George teased.

  “Oh, no!” Cassie protested. “This has been the nicest night! It’s just that I’m not used to late hours.”

  “I think that’s our cue,” Wes told Sloan with mischievous eyes. “Time to take the Harringtons home.”

  George glanced at his wife, insinuatively wiggling his brows. “I’m amazed these lovebirds have taken this long, aren’t you?”

  “George!” Cassie remonstrated. “Hush! You’re embarrassing them!”

  “We’re not embarrassed,” Wes said with a leisurely smile. “And you’re not keeping us. We’ve got all night.”

  Sloan felt as if her heart had crashed into her stomach. All night! Did he think she was spending the night with him? Her throat went dry and her hands clammy. Had she played the seductress too well? She couldn’t have him pressuring her. If he pushed, she might capitulate! And then he might decide that there really wasn’t anything, so special about her after all...

  But at the moment, she was cornered. The check was paid; they were rising to leave. And she had imbibed too freely of the wine. She shook her head. Her thoughts were fuzzy, and she needed a sharp, clear mind.

  As they drove to drop off Cassie and George, she was quiet and withdrawn, mentally planning strategy with a desperate speed. She was still quiet when they were finally alone, until it occurred to her that she didn’t even know where they were headed.

  Moistening her lips and breathing deeply, she asked with a wobbly effort at nonchalance, “Where are we going?”

  Wesley’s jade gaze fell to her with a burning intensity. Although he grinned with his usual ease, his voice was hoarse and husky when he replied. “The nice romantic spot I promised. My house.”

  Sloan became dizzy with fear. Was he wrapped around her finger as tightly as she thought? She nervously smoothed already smooth hair. At any rate, she reasoned, the man wasn’t a rapist. He wouldn’t force her to do anything.

  But she wasn’t afraid of him using force, and she knew it. She was afraid of her own reactions. Heaven help me! she prayed fervently as he ushered her toward his darkened house. But would heaven help her after all that she had done? More likely, the powers that be would listen and laugh...

  Wesley switched on dim lights as they entered and calmly walked ahead of her. “Brandy?” he asked, as she stood in the doorway surveying the elegant room. Wesley’s taste in decor was stunning—casual and warm, but elegant. The entrance hallway, carpeted in a creamy pile, led to a sunken living room, plush with thickly cushioned, wicker furniture. Palms and ferns unobtrusively added a beguiling hospitality, as did the glass window doors which led to a screened patio, complete with a sparkling, kidney-shaped pool and a whirling hot tub.

  “Come in,” Wesley invited with amusement, divesting himself of jacket, tie, and cummerbund and grimacing as he undid the top three buttons of his shirt. “The attack dogs have the evening off.”

  Sloan flushed as she moved uneasily down to the plush, sunken area. She sat, thinking she would have to remain seriously on guard in Wesley’s territory. Her mind was so benumbed that she started when he handed her a snifter of brandy.

  “It’s me,” he said kindly. “The same old Wesley you’ve been seeing all week.” He sat beside her, sipped at his own glass, and took her chin gently with his free hand. “The same old Wesley who loves you very much,” he added softly. “The same old Wesley who wants to marry you.”

  For some ungodly reason, she was close to tears. Without thinking, she blurted, “Why?”

  “I could tell you a million things,” he said, hypnotizing her with the gleaming jade of his eyes and the tender stroke of his fingers on the soft flesh of her face. “I can say because you’re bright and beautiful and more graceful and lovely than any other living creature. And it will be true. But there’s only one real reason—the only reason anyone should ever marry. Because I love you. I want to share my life with you. I want to be a part of yours.”

  The tears finally streamed down Sloan’s cheeks. “Oh, Wesley...”

  “Hey! I didn’t mean to make you cry!” he exclaimed gently, setting their brandies aside and taking her comfortingly into his arms.
He rocked her soothingly and stroked the lush tendrils of hair from her forehead. “Hey!” he repeated softly. “Don’t cry. Just answer me. I won’t rush you, but I’ll go clear out of my mind if I keep thinking that maybe you will when you don’t—”

  “I will!” Sloan interrupted quickly. What the hell was she doing? she demanded of herself. She was crying like an idiot, feeling like a complete louse, just because he had said a few sentimental things. And why? He wanted her, he loved her. She wouldn’t be twisting his arm.

  The only reason...he had said. Love. That was why. She was betraying him in the most cruel way possible.

  Hating herself, she lifted sapphire eyes to his. “I will marry you, Wesley. There’s nothing I want more.”

  His arms tightened around her. “When?” he gasped hoarsely.

  “As soon as possible,” she replied. “Tomorrow, if we could...”

  He was startled, but pleasantly so. She knew he had expected her to set a date months in the future.

  “Monday we’ll get the license,” he promised her. “And a week from today, we’ll become man and wife.” His lips fell upon hers with a passionate urgency, plundering the softness of her mouth. Sloan moaned faintly beneath his assault, in agony as she tried to keep a clear head. It was almost impossible. His crisp, clean scent was intoxicating her, his hands were arousing her to a feverish pitch as they roamed to secret places and sought her body through the field of silk.

  Somehow, without her even knowing it, Wes had found the zipper to her dress and the silk fell from her with a whispered rustle. She heard his sharp intake of breath, then felt the pressure of his hands as he forced her down to the pillowy cushion of the couch. His hot kisses, hungry and out of control, blazed paths across her flesh. As if she were intoxicated, it slowly filtered into Sloan’s mind that they were fast reaching a point of no return. Even as she stumbled mentally, Wesley’s sure fingers found the front clasp of her lacy bra, and it joined the silk dress on the floor. His mouth found the firm flesh of her breasts, teased and raked her nipples until she cried out with an agony of despair and longing. She wanted him so desperately! To stop the excruciating pleasure would be to bring excruciating pain.

  His hand ran along her leg, causing her to shake uncontrollably. Her slip wound around her waist; his hand found the elastic of her panties, and she gasped at the surge of desire awakened within her at the touch of his fingers so low on her abdomen, a touch which caused her to inadvertently strain toward him.

  Then the ultimate warning in her head finally sounded. He was still clothed, but his knee was wedging firmly between hers, and his hand was subtly but surely exploring further. Bracing herself firmly, Sloan finally found her voice, begging him to stop.

  At first she was totally ignored. Terror that she had played too closely with fire surged through her, and she gripped her fingers painfully into his hair. “Please, Wesley!” she sighed. “I beg you!” Tears formed again in her eyes and cascaded down her cheeks. “Please!” she whispered.

  Wesley went rigid; his harsh breathing gave her the answer that he had at last heard her plea.

  He didn’t speak as he lifted his weight from her and tossed her discarded clothing into her lap. He didn’t even look at her until she had reclasped her bra and slipped hurriedly back into her black silk dress.

  Then he sat beside her, and she knew when he probed her face with an icy green stare that he was angry. But he didn’t yell, he didn’t make recriminations. He sat with folded arms and demanded, “Why?”

  “I—I just can’t!” she croaked shamefully.

  “Go on,” he prompted grimly.

  Her abject misery was not, at the moment, a performance. Her hands were trembling so badly she could barely get a sip of sorely needed brandy to her lips. Yet still, her mind was ticking away with all speed. Her answer would have to be good. Looking tentatively at Wesley, she shivered and her eyes fluttered closed. Think! she told herself. She had everything at stake in the next few minutes.

  “Please, tell me what’s wrong,” he persisted, and she chanced another glance into his probing jade orbs. He had gentled, his voice had become the kind one she was accustomed to hearing.

  Taking a few deep breaths, she decided she could almost be honest. Looking straight into her brandy, she plunged ahead with a shy, very convincing explanation for her behavior which bordered on truth.

  “I’m frightened, Wesley. I don’t know what impression I give, but I’ve been alone for a long time.” She knew she was blushing profusely. “The only man I’ve ever known was Terry, and—well, we were married. I know that sounds ridiculously old-fashioned, but...”

  Wesley emitted a strangled sound, and Sloan glanced at him, cringing, fearing she had pushed his patience too far. But he was no longer angry, he was chuckling.

  “What’s so funny?” she queried with piqued exasperation.

  “Nothing, darling, nothing,” he assured her. He sat beside her again, ran his fingers through his dark hair, and took her hand to idly massage her fingers. “I don’t think you’re ridiculously old-fashioned. I’m kind of glad. I’d be insanely jealous if I had to learn about your other lovers. I’m even jealous of Terry, although God knows I can’t begrudge the man a thing. He had heaven on earth and he had to lose it.” His eyes met hers. “I laughed because you had me frightened too. I thought you might have a serious hang-up about me. If marriage is important to you before making a sexual commitment, I can honor that. That is”—he chuckled again, the throaty sound that was deep and endearing—“as long as you are sure that you do want me when we are married and as long as we do hurry with the wedding!”

  Sloan stared at him with wide, blank eyes. “I do want you, Wes, I want you more than I’ve ever wanted another human being.”

  “I’m all yours, darling,” he swore, with a light kiss on her forehead. “But I’d better get you home, because I want you to be all mine. All of you,” he added, running a finger along the flesh of her bare arm. “Every delightful inch!” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Just one week...”

  Sloan continued to shiver all the way home. Just one week. Then it would be pay-up time. And she had the strange feeling that, once she had legally sold herself to Wesley Adams, there would be no backing down.

  Ever again.

  CHAPTER SIX

  SLOAN CALLED IN LATE on Monday morning, and within an hour she and Wesley had filled in all the necessary papers and taken blood tests. Wes suggested they stop for a bite to eat before she went in to work as there were a few things he wanted to discuss.

  “I’ve got to drive home for a few days,” he told her as he folded his menu and handed it to the waitress. At her look of surprise he continued, “We’ll be going on a honeymoon. I need to cover myself and get back to Kentucky and check with my brother on the farm. I also want to tell him about us firsthand and talk him and my sister-in-law into coming up for the wedding.”

  Sloan was startled. She had almost forgotten that Wes had another home and a family. “When are you leaving?” she asked unhappily. She was surprised at how it hurt to know they’d be parted. In a short time, Wes had come to pleasantly dominate her life, and she hadn’t even realized it.

  “Today,” he replied with a cross between a smile and a leer. “I won’t be back until Friday, which is probably best for both of us! I won’t be trying to attack you every night, and you won’t have to worry about fighting me off!”

  “Oh, Wes!” Sloan murmured miserably.

  “Hey! I’m teasing!” He chuckled, tenderly lifting her chin. “I have to take care of this now, though, because I don’t want to worry about anything after the wedding. Where would you like to go?”

  “Pardon?”

  “Our honeymoon, darling,” he said with a patient grin. “Is there anywhere particular you’d like to go?”

  “Ah—no,” Sloan stammered. She hadn’t even thought about a honeymoon. In fact, she hadn’t really thought about anything beyond the wedding.

  “Then I have
a suggestion. I have a friend who recently bought a hotel just outside of Brussels. He swears it’s one of the most beautiful cities in the world, and he’s surrounded by hilly forests and sparkling little streams. We can spend a week there, and then a week in Paris. How does that sound?” Wesley sipped his coffee and watched her over the rim of his cup.

  “It sounds lovely,” Sloan replied with a slow smile. Belgium and France! She had never been out of the eastern United States! Wesley was opening doors for her which she had never even dreamed existed. “But, what about the children?”

  “Florence will watch them, of course,” Wes told her with a wave of his hand. “I’ll have her move her things into your house tonight so that she can get used to your routine. Cassie and George will be around if anything she can’t handle comes up, and hopefully, Dave and Susan will be here with their kids, and Jamie, Laura, and Terry can meet their new cousins and aunt and uncle. My sister lives in Arizona near my folks, so I doubt if she’ll be able to make it or my mom and dad for that matter.” He grimaced as he idly ran a finger over the top of her hand. “Dad has a heart condition, so he doesn’t travel frequently. We’ll fly out to meet them in a few months.”

  Sloan’s head was reeling. There were so many things she hadn’t taken into consideration! A small chill knotted in her stomach. “Wes,” she said slowly. “What happens when we come back? Do we”—she licked dry lips—“Do we move to Kentucky?” Kentucky, away from everything she knew, away from Cassie and George. It almost sounded like an alien planet! And what about his family? What if they disliked her? What if they resented her barging into their lives with a household of children? What if they felt she were too old for Wes, too encumbered? His parents would want him to marry a younger girl, she was sure, one who would provide him with his own family.

  Wesley’s hand was warm over hers. As usual, he was reading the worries she couldn’t voice aloud. “I promise you,” he guaranteed her softly. “You’ll love Kentucky. So will the kids. And my brother is a wonderful guy; Susan’s terrific. We’ll be in the same house for a while, but don’t worry, it’s huge. You don’t have to see anyone else if you don’t want to. I’ll have George put my house here on the market while we’re gone, but we’ll keep yours and spend as much time in Gettysburg as we can. Okay?”