by Susan Kyle
“Maybe we both have.” He sighed, studying her slight form in his arms. “I’m sorry for what I did to you. For what it’s worth, it won’t ever happen again.”
“I know that. And you don’t have to worry that I’ll say anything about what you told me, either,” she added, averting her eyes. “I’m a very private person, too. I don’t gossip, ever.”
“I’m amazed that I’m such a poor judge of character,” he murmured dryly. “I suppose it’s being inexperienced. One of the visiting agents, who really is a notorious womanizer, said you were the most innocent little creature he’d ever seen. I wish I’d listened. You’ll have nightmares tonight, and it’s my fault.”
She smiled with a world-weary look. “I’ve had nightmares for years. Every night. Nothing will change that.”
He scowled. “Have you ever had therapy?”
“No, and I won’t. I’m not letting some stranger scour around in the back of my mind and charge me a hundred dollars an hour just to listen to me whine about it.”
“Therapy would help,” he said stubbornly.
“No.”
He smiled and shook his head. “I’ll bet you were a handful when you were a child.”
“No, I wasn’t,” she replied, finding him surprisingly easy to talk to. “My father had a big stick.”
“And beat you with it,” he said as if he knew.
She nodded, looking down at the buttons on his shirt. “I don’t like people very much.”
“Neither do I. You’re a better actress than I gave you credit for, did you know? You bubble, like champagne. My blood rushes through my veins every time you walk into a room. You’re always smiling, cheerful, as if life is a constant joy.”
“Parts of it are,” she replied. “I have Amanda to talk to and a good job, and I like my own company.”
“Will you like it for the rest of your life?” he asked gently.
“I don’t know that I could be intimate with a man,” she replied. “That would put a terrible strain on anyone I tried to have a relationship with. I’m aware of my limitations, so I keep to myself.”
“But you were attracted to me, weren’t you?” he asked thoughtfully.
“Since we’re being so honest with each other, yes, I was,” she agreed.
“But not after tonight.”
Her eyebrows curled downward. “Why not?”
“I hurt you. Frightened you. Damned near forced you. That’s why not.”
“I know why you did it now, though,” she said. “I’m not afraid of you.”
“Did you hear what I told you?” he repeated. “I wasn’t kidding. I’ve never made love to a woman completely in all my life.”
“Yes, I heard you.” She smiled at him shyly. “I feel sort of like that.” The smile faded. “It hurt terribly,” she said in a husky whisper. “They didn’t even touch me, except for…” She averted her face. “I thought I was going to die for days afterwards.”
“It’s a miracle they didn’t kill you.”
“But they did try to,” she returned. “One of them had his belt around my neck, and there was an ambulance siren. I guess they thought it was the police. They left me lying there and ran.”
His face hardened. “You shouldn’t have let them get away with it,” he said coldly.
“I know that, now. I keep thinking what if they did it again, to some other poor girl. But I was very young, and very scared.”
He brushed back her disheveled hair and looked at her. Finally he smiled. “You’re very pretty, too,” he mused. “Are you going to keep working for me?”
“Yes, I think so.”
He nodded. He let go of her hair. “I’d better go home. Will you be all right?”
“I’ve lived with it for a long time,” she said. “I can cope.”
He got up, gently depositing her on her feet in front of him. His dark eyes searched her wan face. “I don’t like leaving you, Mirri,” he said. “If I give you my home number, will you use it if you need to? Sometimes a voice in the darkness is as good as a hand to hold.”
“You’d do that for me?” she asked.
“Of course.”
“For anyone who needed it,” she guessed.
He didn’t answer her right away. Finally he said, “I’m not a benevolent society. No one has the number except my uncle. It’s unlisted.”
She searched his eyes for a long moment. “Then, yes, I’ll use it. But only if I have to.”
He wrote it down on a slip of paper and laid it on the coffee table. He slipped the pen back into his pocket and retrieved his Stetson. “The Stroganoff was delicious. Thank you.”
She walked with him to the door, her arms folded protectively over ha- breasts. “You’re welcome. I like to make quiche, too.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever eaten that.”
She didn’t look up. “I make it on Saturday nights. I like the Saturday-night horror pictures on television, so I usually stay up late. Vampire movies and werewolves and such,” she clarified. “But I don’t like a lot of gore.”
“Neither do I. I lived through Vietnam. I don’t ever want to look at mangled human beings again.”
“How old are you?” she asked.
“Thirty-seven.” He touched her hair slowly. “I’m too old for you, anyway.”
“I’m almost twenty-four.” She studied her toes. “No, you’re not.”
“You don’t look that old,” he said with faint wonder.
“Neither do you.”
He opened the door and stood looking out it, his hat still in his hand. “I’ve always wondered what quiche tastes like,” he said without looking at her.
Her heart skipped. “You could come over next Saturday night and find out.”
He didn’t turn, but his hand contracted around the hat. “I’d like that, if I haven’t made you afraid of me.”
“You aren’t the same man who came over earlier tonight,” she reminded him. “I’m not afraid of you now. You know how it feels to be hurt.”
He took a slow breath. “Yes.”
She smiled. “I’ll see you at work on Monday, then.”
He looked down at her. “First thing.”
Her body tingled when he looked at her. It was an odd reaction. She liked it. Her face began to heat at the way he smiled back. “Good night.”
“Good night.”
He left, reluctantly. Mirri watched him walk to his car and get in it. She watched until he drove away, out of sight, before she closed and locked the door. For an evening that had begun as a disaster, it had ended surprisingly well. She went to clean up the kitchen and found herself humming.
The rest of the weekend was uneventful, but when Mirri was back at work, she noticed that Nelson’s attitude toward her had changed drastically. He was gentle and polite, and he smiled at her. She warmed to him like a flower to sunlight, and her work suffered just a little because of her distraction.
On the other hand, Danny Tanner was becoming a real headache. He staked out Mirri like prey and began to flirt outrageously with her. The more she resisted, the more he persisted.
It was bound to come to a head, and it did. One day at lunch she was left alone in the office with him, and he made a crude remark about what he’d like to do to her.
Unfortunately for him, Nelson Stuart walked in the open office door and overheard him.
“What did you say?” he demanded, enraged at the thought of Mirri having to tolerate language like that in her own office.
“I was just talking to her,” Danny blurted out. He was a whiz kid, a college dropout with a big ego and not much ability.
Mirri drew herself up to her full height. “Like fun you were,” she said through her teeth.
Knowing what he did about Mirri, Nelson had to force himself not to take two steps forward and throw the other man through the wall. Tanner wasn’t an agent, he was a clerk, a couple of steps higher on the pay scale than Mirri. He was also expendable.
“Do you want to
file charges against him for sexual harassment?” Nelson asked her.
“Oh, good grief, it was just a joke.” Danny laughed nervously.
“Yes, I want to file charges,” she told Nelson. “I’ve had more than enough of Mr. Tanner’s offensive language, and I’ve repeatedly asked him to stop it. He doesn’t listen.”
“Come into my office, please. Mr. Tanner, you are suspended without pay pending a formal hearing,” he added, his very stance enough to make the young man step back. “Starting now.”
“It was a friendly little discussion! She’s woman, I’m a man…”
“She’s an employee of this agency, Mr. Tanner,” Nelson said, his temper barely leashed. “You have no right to subject her to any action, even any language, which makes it uncomfortable for her to do her job.”
“I’ll file a countercharge,” the young man threatened. “I’ll say she encouraged me.”
Mirri was sick inside. It was the past, all over again. “If you do, make sure there are no skeletons rattling in your closet,” Nelson said, and he smiled at him.
It was a calculated threat. But it worked. Danny paled. He glared at the two of them and went to his desk.
He left, and Nelson took Mirri into his office, closing the door behind him. He smiled at her with curious pride. “You didn’t back down this time. Good girl.”
“Will he do what he threatened?”
He shook his head. “And if he does, it won’t matter. I’ll stand up for you.”
She laughed nervously, pushing back her hair. “I couldn’t make him stop. He’s been driving me batty ever since he came here.”
“Why didn’t you come to me?”
“I didn’t think you’d believe me, before,” she confessed. Then she smiled at him. “He can say what he likes. He looks like a lizard. No sane woman would want to go out with him.”
He chuckled. “Don’t say that at the board hearing.”
“It’s the truth.”
He searched her soft eyes. “I wanted to hit him. Imagine that.”
“Because of me?”
His broad shoulders lifted and fell. “I feel protective toward you. Even a little possessive.” His eyes narrowed. “Do you mind?”
Warmth kindled inside her. She began to smile. “No. I don’t think I do.”
A corner of his thin mouth pulled up. He studied her and suddenly scowled. She was wearing a simple gray suit with a pale pink blouse and black high heels. “My God, what’s happened to you?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Did someone die?”
“You said…!”
He moved forward and took her by the shoulders. “Put it back in the box, and don’t wear it again,” he said firmly. “Blind me with colors. Dangle bracelets while you take dictation. Just be yourself. I’ll never make another discouraging remark about you as long as I live.”
She chuckled softly. “Mr. Stuart, you’re weakening.”
“Don’t I know it.” He searched her eyes quizzically. “I have a first name, you know.”
She formed it in her mouth. “Nelson,” she said softly.
He stiffened. It was erotic, hearing his name on her lips.
She recognized the tautness of his face. “Amazing,” she breathed.
“You don’t know the half of it,” he said through his teeth.
Her breath began to jerk out of her throat. She looked at his mouth, and all sorts of unsuitable behaviors occurred to her.
“You could kiss me,” she said outrageously. “I promise not to say one word about sexual harassment.”
“Not even if I bend you back over the desk?” he asked with graveyard humor. “Because that’s what might happen.”
She took a step closer, and then another, doors were opening in her mind, in her heart. She went right up against him, feeling his sudden arousal and not frightened by it.
He put her away. “No,” he managed.
“I won’t tell if you won’t,” she whispered, lifting her face. She parted her lips and closed her eyes.
Nelson was only human. He groaned. His mouth hit hers with the same ferocity she remembered, except that this time she wanted it. She locked her soft arms around his neck.
He made sounds in the back of his throat that were erotic and arousing. She bit his lower lip and felt his mouth open, felt his tongue thrust into her mouth.
They strained to get closer to each other. Her breasts hurt from the pressure of his hard arms, and it was sweet and heady. She clung, feeding on his mouth, tasting him, while the world went on outside the office.
He put her down abruptly and stepped back until he could lean against the desk. He was blatantly aroused, with no way to hide it.
She didn’t embarrass him by staring. But it was enlightening to know that he couldn’t really resist her. “This isn’t the place,” he said.
She nodded.
His hands tightened on the edge of the desk that was supporting him. “You don’t want to run this time?”
She shook her head, very slowly. “I’ve kept men away since it happened,” she replied. “I haven’t wanted to know what real intimacy was. But I’ll let you teach me, if you like.”
If he liked. He drew in a breath that was audible. “I’m an old-fashioned man.”
“That’s all right. I have my principles, too.”
“Quiche Saturday night.”
She hesitated. “Tonight, if you like.”
He had no willpower left. “Tonight.”
“Okay.” She left while she still could.
That night they shared a quiche and watched wrestling on cable-TV. Somewhere in the middle of it, she crawled onto his lap and coaxed him until he kissed her.
Neither of them had much practice at it. They spent the evening learning all the soft, sweet ways there were to make two mouths talk to each other without words.
But when she guided his hand on her breast, he pulled away and sat up. And despite all her pleas and coaxing, he wouldn’t go any farther.
“We’ll make haste slowly, if you please,” he told her, grinning through his desire. “We’ve got something good here. Don’t let’s spoil it by going too fast. All right?”
She couldn’t argue with that. She moved nearer and closed her eyes, feeling his heart beat under her chest. “All right.”
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
After a postponement of his appointment for several days that very nearly drove him mad, the examination was finally over, and Josh had been sweating out the results overnight. Today, it was time. He sat reluctantly and restlessly in his doctor’s private office in Nassau.
He used the company doctor in San Antonio for routine examinations, required by the insurance company, but there was a good reason for his visit to this physician. He was having some very secret tests done, and he didn’t want to run the risk of leaks in case his suspicions were confirmed. The Lawson name was well known enough that the tabloids would have loved a shot at him.
He wasn’t a particularly religious man, but he’d done his share of praying. He wanted Amanda. The time he’d spent with her had convinced him that she’d be all he’d ever want. But until he was certain that he could go to her a whole man, could offer her the future she deserved, he didn’t dare talk to her about his worries.
He put down the magazine he’d been trying to read and stared around him irritably, with barely concealed impatience. He hated waiting, especially now. His brother had finally gotten up enough nerve to approach him for help, and he’d turned him down. Now he was worried. What if something happened to Brad and it was his fault?
He’d always had more than his measure of self-confidence, but now he began to question his own attitude toward weakness. He was afraid of vulnerability. Well, except when he was with Amanda, he amended, smiling softly at the memories. It didn't really bother him to let her see him with his mask off. But Brad didn’t seem to know that he was wearing one. Had he been too inflexible, too impatient, with his brother
’s weakness?
The nurse motioned him into Dr. Edmonds’s office, and he went in, frowning worriedly. Dr. Edmonds sat behind his desk and glanced up, motioning Josh to a seat. His eyes were on the test results.
“Well, how am I?” Josh asked impatiently. “I know my cholesterol is high, but I’ve given up cheese.” He leaned forward intently. “Tell me the rest.”
The Bahamian doctor, who was even younger than Josh, raised his dark head and grimaced. “I don’t like giving prognoses like this,” he said quietly, his very correct British accent crisp in the silence.
“I’ve got a week to live,” Josh guessed cynically to cover up his sudden fear.
“No, nothing fatal.” He tossed the file onto the desk and leaned back. “You’re in perfect health except for one thing. That fertility test you had us conduct. I’m afraid it came out negative. You have a sperm count that is almost nonexistent. Did you have any childhood diseases late in your youth?”
Josh felt his blood run cold. All his adult life he’d suspected that he was sterile, because there had been occasional lapses with women and no one had ever brought a paternity suit or mentioned being made pregnant by him. He’d always suspected. Now he knew. His face went taut with disappointment. “I had mumps when I was in high school.”
“You do realize that mumps can cause sterility?”
“Yes,” he said dully. “I hoped it was an old wives’ tale.”
“I’m afraid it’s documented. It can, and does, cause it. You won’t be able to have children.”
Josh felt the hope drain out of him. He couldn’t father a child. He would die without issue. There would never be a son or a daughter with his blood. And because of that, he couldn’t rob Amanda of a normal life. He had to let her go, forever.
“Sweet Jesus!” he whispered, and it sounded like a prayer for mercy.
“You can get a second opinion,” Dr. Edmonds continued. “In fact, I’ve sent your tests to a colleague myself, just to make sure there’s been no error.”
Josh didn’t answer. He stared into space, stricken. The doctor looked worried. “Josh, it isn’t the end of the world!”