by Diana Palmer
At nine the doorbell rang and she rushed to let Regan in. He lifted an eyebrow at her hurry, but there was no welcoming smile on his face. A curtain had been dropped between them.
“I’m almost ready,” she said, turning away. She couldn’t bear to look at him. In that open-throated wine-colored shirt and gray slacks, he looked good enough to wrestle down on a couch.
“There’s been a change of plan,” he said.
She turned, dreading what he might say. They’d canceled the party, that was it—or Denny had eloped—or...
“We’re still going,” he said, anticipating her nervous outburst. “But Denny and I have to fly up to Greenville about one o’clock for a quick meeting with some of Dad’s colleagues about a possible merger.”
“But it’s Saturday,” she said. “And the party...”
“We’ll be back well in time for it, don’t get overheated,” he said with mild sarcasm.
She sighed. “Well, I guess business doesn’t take holidays, does it?”
“No, it doesn’t. I’ll have Denny back in plenty of time,” he said shortly.
She glanced at him, but he turned away to light a cigarette. He did that a lot when he was with her, but his ashtray was hardly used during the day when he was alone. She sighed. She was definitely a threat to his health.
“How are you going, on a charter flight?” she asked as she closed her overnight bag and checked to make sure everything in her apartment was turned off.
“No. We’re flying up in the corporation’s airplane.”
She felt a twinge of fear, and gripped the small bag close as she turned. “The one your father almost crashed in a month ago?” she asked, recalling the day it had happened with vivid unease.
“It’s been completely overhauled,” he said curtly. “For God’s sake, Denny’s a big boy. What do you want to do, carry him up to South Carolina on your back?”
She couldn’t tell him that her fear was all for him, that she didn’t think she could go on living if anything happened to him. So she kept her mouth shut and followed him out the door. Anyway, she told herself, it would be all right. For goodness’ sake, planes were safer than cars, weren’t they?
* * *
As soon as they arrived at the house Regan went straight to the study, where his father and Denny were talking quietly. After the initial greetings were exchanged, Kenna turned to Denny. “Where’s Margo?” she asked, noting the other woman’s absence.
Denny smiled grimly. “She wasn’t on the flight yesterday. I got a call from her last night. Long distance. She’s decided to spend the extra week at home after all. I told her that was just as well, since I’d been spending a lot of time with you,” Denny concluded with a wicked light in his eye. “We’ve had a great time together this week, haven’t we, Kenna?”
Kenna groaned inwardly and made a face at Denny, knowing the effect his words would have on Regan.
But Regan wasn’t looking at her expression, and he turned into the study. “I need to take another look at those contracts, Dad,” he told his father.
Angus glanced from one of his sons to the other and shrugged. “All right. Denny?”
“I think I’ll keep Kenna company,” the younger man said.
“Have your mother bring us some coffee, will you?” Angus asked. He winked at Kenna and walked into the study. Regan glared at his stepbrother and Kenna before he slammed the door behind him.
“He’s making a habit of that lately,” Denny observed, grimacing.
“Oh, you should have stuck around yesterday afternoon,” she told him as they walked into the kitchen, where Abbie was taking a tray of homemade cookies out of the oven.
“Why?” Abbie asked immediately, glancing toward Kenna with a wide-eyed grin. “What happened?”
“Mom, you’re impossible,” Denny told her, laughingly perching himself on the kitchen sink to watch her work.
“I always was, that’s why your father married me. Come on, Kenna, spill the beans. Something very fishy is going on around here.”
Kenna lifted both eyebrows. “Maybe you only smell your worms,” she murmured.
“Stop that,” Abbie admonished. She piled cookies on a platter with a spatula. “Regan drags Angus off into the study when they’ve already discussed those contracts six times. Denny looks like the end of the world. You—” she stared pointedly at Kenna’s flushed face “—look as if you’d like to take a bite out of something or somebody. And Margo—” she glanced toward her youngest son “—mysteriously lengthens her stay at home. And you tell me nothing is going on?”
“Why don’t you write whodunits?” Denny suggested. “You always have such suspicions....”
“I only want to know one thing,” Abbie persisted. “Is it you and you—” she glanced from one of them to the other “—or is it another combination?”
“It’s Denny and Margo,” Kenna said with a smile. “Or at least, they’re hoping it is.”
“And where do you fit in?” Abbie asked.
“I lost the glass slipper,” came the wistful reply.
“Huh?” the older woman said blankly.
“For your birthday, I’ll tell you the whole story,” Kenna promised. “It’s awfully complicated.”
“So I gathered.”
“Why do I get this feeling that I’m as much in the dark as you are?” Denny asked Abbie with a frown.
“Probably because you are. Okay, honey, we’ll stop ganging up on you,” Abbie told Kenna and hugged her quickly. “But on my birthday, I’ll expect you here with all your facts on the tip of your tongue.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Kenna said politely.
“Am I invited, too?” Denny asked.
“Ask your mother. Oh, Regan asked if he and his father could have some coffee in the study,” Kenna added, just remembering.
“Asked?” Abbie scoffed. “The last time Regan asked for anything was when he had his appendix removed, and that courtesy only lasted until he got out from under the anesthetic. Here, Kenna, you take it to them.”
Kenna looked hunted. Denny noticed her reluctance and stepped in.
“I’ll do it,” he said, lifting the tray. He winked at his mother. “It’s too heavy for a mere woman.”
“I’ll sue,” Kenna called after him. “But thanks.”
“Anytime.”
“Now,” Abbie said, seeing her opportunity. “He’s part of the problem, isn’t he? You’re head over heels in love with Regan, or I’m a white mouse.”
Kenna sank down in a chair, looking utterly miserable. “You see, Regan was going to help me get Denny’s attention—which I thought I wanted. So he took me shopping and got me this haircut—” she indicated the short, flattering style “—and makeup and showed me what clothes to buy. Then he taught me how to walk and talk and flirt and act seductive. Then he sent me after Denny.”
“The fairy godmother.” Abbie grinned wickedly.
Kenna laughed despite her misery. “Fairy godfather,” she corrected. “Anyway, now Denny’s about to lose Margo because Regan was throwing me at him, and Regan walks around smoldering and looking purely hostile.”
“I know that. But why?”
“He doesn’t want to get involved, he says.” Kenna sighed. She glanced up at Abbie, saw an ally and decided to tell the whole truth. “He wants me, but he won’t do anything about it because I’m still a virgin. And he doesn’t want anything else, so...” She shrugged and hung her clasped hands between her knees. “Oh, damn it, Abbie. I hate men.”
“So do I,” the older woman agreed with a grimace. “I imagine he’s afraid, Kenna. He did love Jessica obsessively. He’s like that. He can’t give a part of himself, he gives everything.”
Kenna studied her fingernails. “She was lucky to be loved so much. I can’t imag
ine a man caring about me that way.”
“You might be very surprised. Here, honey, help me get these cookies into the fridge. Denny will be back any minute, and I don’t think he needs any more ammunition to use against Regan. He’s violently jealous of him, you know.” Abbie sighed.
“Yes, I know, but he shouldn’t be. He’s quite a man himself,” she said with a kind smile. “Why won’t your husband give him a chance?”
“My husband,” the older woman growled, “is a haughty, arrogant type who thinks he knows everything there is to know about personalities. But I’m working on him. So is Regan. We’ll change his mind about Denny yet.”
“I’d gladly put in my two cents’ worth if I could,” Kenna said on a sigh.
“Don’t look so depressed, love,” she said soothingly. “This is going to be a great party, even if I say so myself, and we’ll dance and drink champagne and let the future take care of itself. Just take it one hour at a time.”
“I hope you’re right, Abbie.”
“I hope you brought something eye-catching to use on Regan.” Abbie grinned.
Kenna lifted her eyebrows and smiled back. “I certainly did. Want to see it?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do.” She took off her apron and tossed it over the back of a chair. “The caterers can take care of everything else. Come on, show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”
“How long have you and Mr. Cole been married?” Kenna asked as they mounted the carpeted staircase.
“Twenty-six years today.” The shorter woman sighed. “How time flies. And I still think Angus is the sexiest man I’ve ever known.”
Kenna couldn’t imagine anyone thinking Angus Cole sexy. But probably Abbie still did. She wondered how she’d feel if she and Regan were celebrating their twenty-sixth wedding anniversary, and tingled all over at the thought. She knew she’d think he was sexy twenty-six years from now.
When she and Abbie came back downstairs, Denny and his father were in the study with the door open, and Regan was nowhere in sight.
“Where did he go?” Abbie asked, her voice lowered conspiratorially as the women joined the men.
“He’s gone to get dressed,” Angus offered, raising an eyebrow in Kenna’s direction. “In a hurry to get away, it looks like. We’ve got another hour before we have to leave for the airport.”
Denny was watching Kenna, too, and he drew her to one side while Angus and Abbie discussed the party arrangements.
“Regan gave me his blessing,” he told Kenna with a sly grin. “Not generously, but he gave it to me, then he poured himself a slug of Dad’s gin and went up to dress.”
“Oh,” Kenna said miserably, staring at her shoes.
“You don’t understand,” he persisted. “He hates gin. I don’t think he knew what he was drinking. Why don’t you go up and tell him I’m on the verge of proposing and see what happens?” He grinned. “I dare you.”
“I’ve got bad vibrations about doing that,” she said nervously.
“You never know until you try.”
“That’s true.”
“Go on,” he challenged. “What have you got to lose?”
“My pride, my self-respect, my...”
“Go, girl,” he told her, turning her around. “I’m going to call Margo and see if she’ll give up her neighbor and come home and marry me. We’re both going to get it together before we quit. Now get in there and fight, troops!” he said with his old familiar enthusiasm.
She laughed helplessly. “He won’t like it.”
“Good. It will make him see what he’s giving up.”
She sighed. “All or nothing, huh?” She straightened the hem of her blouse and pursed her lips. “Wish me luck.”
“Will you need it, looking the way you do?” Denny asked.
“That reminds me. Here.” She tugged off her glasses and handed them to him, and smoothed her hair. “Point me toward the staircase, please.”
“Right there. Up the stairs and first door to the right.”
“Thanks, partner.”
She marched up the long staircase with her heart hammering in her throat. Please, let it work, she prayed silently. Let him care. Let him be insanely jealous and tell me not to go near Denny again!
She walked up to his door and hesitated. Well, Denny was right, what did she have to lose? And she was the one who’d been lecturing Regan about daring to live....
She knocked firmly on his door.
“What is it?” he growled.
“Could I talk to you for a minute?” she called through the heavy wood.
There was a pregnant pause, and she stood nervously outside in the hall, wondering what she’d do if he said no. But after a minute she heard heavy footsteps, and then the door swung open.
She wasn’t prepared at all for the sight that met her shocked eyes. She’d seen Regan in his shirtsleeves, but that was as disheveled as he’d ever been in her company. Until now. He was stripped to the waist, and Kenna wondered if it was acceptable for a modern woman to faint at such sights. He was the most gorgeous-looking thing she’d ever seen. The pickiest connoisseur of men’s bare chests couldn’t have found a flaw in him. He was heavily muscled, bronzed and fit, and there was a wedge of thick black hair curling from his collarbone down to his belt, and probably far below that. Kenna had to clench her hands at her sides to keep them from making a grab for him.
“Well?” he asked curtly.
She dragged her eyes up to meet his and forgot everything she’d come upstairs to say.
He had a towel in one hand, apparently having just come from a shower, because his dark, shaggy hair was still damp. But if he was irritated because she’d interrupted him, it didn’t show.
Wordlessly, he caught her clenched hand and dragged her into the room, closing the door quietly behind them. His eyes searched hers for a long, static moment before he abruptly tossed the towel into a nearby chair and brought both her hands to his broad chest.
“Well?” he asked quietly.
It was all she could do to answer him. She could think of nothing but the feel of that thick, cool mass of hair under her fingers. She had to force her hands not to start anything by caressing him as they ached to.
“Denny’s asked me...to marry him,” she said, giving the lie straightforwardly as Denny had suggested.
His chest rose and fell heavily under her hands. She closed her eyes and wished with all her heart that he loved her as much as she loved him, that he’d tell her so and carry her the few feet to the brown-patterned bedspread and lay her down on it....
Her heart throbbed wildly when he suddenly lifted her clear off the floor and did almost that. He carried her to the bed and dropped her into its softness, throwing himself down with her. His arms supported him as he poised himself above her.
“Is this what you want?” he asked coldly. “One last fling with me before you give him an answer? Why not? Maybe we can get each other out of our systems before you start wearing his ring...” Before he finished the sentence, his mouth was crushing down against hers.
She stiffened, but only for a minute. She’d waited too long, wanted him too long, to protest. Burying her pride, she reached up and touched him, feeling the smooth texture of his bronzed skin, tugging at the thick hair over his chest, exploring every hard muscle with fingers that trembled with hunger. Her mouth opened without any coaxing, her tongue answered the hard thrust of his. Her body seemed to curl up with pleasure at the sweet, wild intimacy they were sharing.
“Is this what you want?” he asked against her mouth, and his voice was unsteady.
“Yes,” she whispered unashamedly. Her arms reached up to bring him even closer. “Oh, yes, this is what I want, Regan.”
His mouth brushed against hers softly, feeling its silky texture, while h
is fingers went down to the front of her blouse and began to methodically unfasten the buttons one by one.
She knew what he was doing, but she didn’t make a sound or try to stop him. Her body belonged to him, as it could never belong to any other man. If he wanted it now, he was welcome to it. She wasn’t going to fight.
“No fuss, Cinderella?” he asked when he freed the last button and eased the edges apart, baring the lacy little bra she wore under the blouse.
“No fuss,” she whispered, watching his face as he reached under her to unclasp the bra and tug it loose.
He lifted her, deftly sliding the blouse down one arm and then the other. The straps of the bra followed, and when he lowered her back to the bed, there was nothing between his dark, quiet eyes and her body.
She tried to breathe normally, but her heart was beating madly. She caressed his dark face with her eyes, fascinated by the expression that had claimed it as he looked down at her small, taut breasts.
“Are you disappointed?” she asked softly.
“No.” He brushed his fingers over her collarbone and lifted his eyes to meet hers. “No, I’m not disappointed.” He watched her as his hand moved, lightly stroking her smooth flesh. He caught the hard peak between his fingers and tugged gently at it, and she arched and caught her breath at the aching pleasure.
Her fingers clung to his hard arms and she stared at him like a tiny wounded thing, helpless in the hands of its captor. But it wasn’t a wound she felt, it was a kind of pleasure she’d only heard about until now.
“Lift up, darling,” he whispered, moving his hands around her to bring her body up against his bare chest. “Let me show you how it feels,” he breathed, watching her softness disappear into the tangle of hair over his warm chest. “Oh, God, I never dreamed anything could be so sweet!”
She caught her breath and pressed close, shutting her eyes to savor the wild magic of this new intimacy. She slid her arms around his neck and burrowed her face into his throat, while he eased onto his side and brought her completely against his powerful body. Her legs brushed his, feeling their strength, her hips arched against him, and felt the immediate response of his body to the soft contact.