Ripe for the picking. The idea shook Cole. It was probably true. She must have been lonely, longing for Phillip all that time, determined to wait for him regardless of how long he stayed away. Cole examined his heart, his mind, forcing himself to look deep. Had he recognized her loneliness and taken deliberate advantage? Had he exploited her vulnerability … just because he wanted her?
“Don’t let his looks and his sweet talkin’ turn your head,” McCrary implored her. “Westcotts have been known for their woman-pleasing ways for as long as I can remember. And they please as many as they can get their hands on, in merry little groups or one after the other.”
The man had finally gone too far.
Cole dropped his arm from around Tess and shifted toward the bed, his hands clenching into fists. His common sense stopped him quickly enough, though. He couldn’t very well pummel an old man in a hospital bed. But he wanted to. Just to stop him from talking. What if she believed him?
But then, was he saying anything that hadn’t been true?
“He’ll drink you up, Tessie girl, and throw away the empty carton.”
“You don’t know him.” The explosive force of her vehemence stunned McCrary into silence. “And you don’t know me if you think I can’t handle my own affairs. I’m keeping to my agreement with Cole. And he’ll keep his promises to me. Beyond that, he owes me nothing. Nothing.”
“But Tess—”
“You’ve had your say. Now I’ll have mine.” She stalked closer to him, vivid and hot as a blazing flame. His face flushed from her heat. “If you carry out your plans to sue him or his cousin, you will contend with me. And when the fighting’s over, one thing will be certain. You’ll have one less daughter to worry about.” Wrenching her glare away from her father, she whispered fiercely to Cole, “I’m finished here. If you have something to say to him, meet me at the car.”
And she walked out.
“Oh, Tess, no,” Margaret cried, leaping from her chair and dashing after her. “Please, honey, don’t leave like this.” She raced from the room.
The door closed behind her, and the two men were left alone. Their gazes locked. The silence took on the quality of a ticking bomb.
“I’m going to say this only once,” Cole said, “And I don’t expect you to believe me. I won’t hurt your daughter. Not now, not ever. And I’m going to see to it that she gets anything and everything she wants.” He intended to stop there. Leave it at that. But he couldn’t. “If it turns out that she wants me…” Emotion roughened his voice to harshness, “no one will take her away from me.”
“I’ll do everything in my power to make sure she leaves you.”
“Then I’ll fight you for her,” Cole swore, “with everything I’ve got.”
“That’s exactly what you’re doing, Westcott.”
Cole stared at the man’s implacable face and knew there was nothing left to say. The deal he’d come to offer, the truce he’d hoped to make, died an unsung death. He turned to leave.
“What I want to know…” the old man’s hoarse words stopped him near the door “…is why.”
Cole frowned and glanced back at him. “Why what?”
“Why you’d put yourself through a fight like this when you stand to lose forty million dollars. I might not be rich anymore, but I know how to inflict damage. I’ll show no mercy. I’ll take you down, son—unless you change your game plan and leave my Tess alone.” His eyes blazed. His voice shook. He was ready to do battle from his hospital bed to protect her. Cole had to respect that. “So why don’t you find yourself another McCrary wife. You’ve still got time.” He leaned forward with a passion that Cole thoroughly understood. “Turn my daughter loose, Westcott.”
As if it were that simple. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
For all the times he’d spouted pretty nonsense, charmed the women, finessed his way through business transactions, earned a name as a consummate smooth talker, Cole found himself fresh out of words. The truth burned too hot and fierce for anything else to get through. The complexity of that truth, though, left him reeling and groping through unfamiliar territory. He couldn’t show such vulnerability to anyone, let alone a self-avowed enemy like McCrary.
Cole clenched his jaw to the point of pain. “I want her.”
“You want her?” McCrary repeated. “Oh, I know you want her. In your bed.”
“Yes … in my bed.” He wanted her with every fiber of his being. “In my home. In my life.”
Something in his stare brought a deeper frown to Ian McCrary’s face. “And how long do you suppose this wanting will last?”
“For as long as she’ll stay with me.”
“And when she leaves?”
He refused to think about that. Horrific emptiness waited just beyond. “I’ll still want her.” Realization unfolded with a clarity that shook him to the core. “Always.”
“You Westcotts don’t know the meaning of always. Not when it comes to love.”
Love. He’d been so damn afraid to call it that. Because McCrary was right. Westcotts knew nothing about the “always” kind of love. A historical fact. A legacy. A tragic flaw. But if, by some miracle, Tess loved him, she could teach him.
And he knew then that she did have the power to revoke the curse. At least, for one sorry Westcott.
McCrary scowled at him, but a glimmer of uncertainty diluted his hostility. “What makes you so sure she won’t come around to my way of thinking? How do you know that after you’ve settled all your eggs in our basket, she won’t betray you?”
“Because I know her.”
“You know her, do you? For what, all of a week?”
“For all of a week.”
His age-spotted hands, still viable and strong, clenched into fists against the bed covers. “You said you’d give her whatever she wants. What if she wants another man?”
Cole stared at him. A dozen answers ran through his head, but not the right one. He wasn’t that good. He wasn’t that strong. He couldn’t willingly give her over to another man.
“You do know that she’s in love with someone else, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“That doesn’t bother you?”
Bother him. Would someone gouging out his heart bother him? “He’s gone. I’m here.”
McCrary scrunched up his mouth and leaned back against the pillows. The measuring look in his stare troubled Cole far more than the rage and hatred had. “There’s something Tess needs to know. You should know it, too. Go get her. Tell her it’s very important.”
Apprehension built in Cole’s chest. He didn’t want to cooperate. He wanted to hurry her to the car and keep her far away from this man … this McCrary. He couldn’t, of course. He turned toward the door to get her.
It opened before he reached it Margaret walked in, her eyes red-rimmed, her lip quivering.
Tess followed. The flinty quality of her gaze and the stiffness of her shoulders conveyed her reluctance at returning. “Mama says you need to tell me something.”
“Sit down.”
“I’d prefer to stand.”
“Sit, Tessie,” her father demanded.
Alarm flickered beneath the cool gray of her eyes. She sat. Cole stood beside her, his uneasiness growing.
“You remember the investigator you hired to find Phillip?” asked her father.
“Of course.”
“When you ran out of money to pay him, I took up where you left off.”
Tess stared at him. “You paid him to continue the search?”
He nodded.
Her lips slowly parted. “That’s where your money went. You used your savings to…” Her eyes grew round, her face pale. “You went broke trying to help me.”
“We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about Phillip.”
Her breath audibly caught. “There’s … news?”
“The investigator traced his movements to an island in the Pacific.”
Her very stil
lness seemed to urge him on. “Yesterday, the investigator called and said he learned about an American man being held there. The guy was caught with politically sensitive notes and photographs, and accused of spying. The detective has good reason to believe that prisoner is Phillip.”
She half rose from her chair, looking dazed, pale, frightened. Hopeful. “Is he … okay?”
“From all reports, yes. And if it turns out to be him—” McCrary’s gaze encompassed both Tess and Cole “—he may be home as soon as tomorrow.”
*
Chapter 10
« ^ »
She never considered not going home with Cole. They left her father’s room long after visiting hours had officially ended for the night. Tess sat silently, stunned and dazed, in Cole’s darkened car while he drove, her mind whirling with questions, emotions and prayers. She’d been waiting for news of Phillip for thirteen months. He seemed to have vanished into thin air. Most everyone had come to believe that he’d somehow met his death. She herself had begun to believe it. The news that he might have been found alive—in some primitive island prison, yet—had been a mind-numbing shock.
Was the prisoner on that island Phillip? Could he really be coming home? Though the news wasn’t definite, she’d cried in her parents’ arms—for joy that he might have been found, for fear that he hadn’t been. She’d fervently thanked them for paying the investigator. Regardless of their protests, she would repay them every dime … and then some.
What would happen now? If the prisoner was Phillip, had he been harmed? What had he endured? What would he need, or want? There were too many questions clamoring for answers. If it hadn’t been for Cole’s strong, steady arms guiding her, she probably wouldn’t have found her way out of the hospital, let alone to the car.
It wasn’t until they’d climbed the stairway to Cole’s bedroom that further implications of the news sank in. Phillip, the man she loved, could be on his way home. What was she doing in Cole’s bedroom?
But Cole was her husband. And her lover. She’d spent most of the weekend in his bed. And she’d promised to stay with him for five months. How could she break her word when his inheritance depended on their marriage? If Phillip returned, though, he would need all the love and support she could give to help ease him back into his life. To help him forget whatever horrors he’d experienced. She’d been engaged to marry him, committed to sharing his life forever. How could she stay with Cole?
The dilemma hit her in a blinding rush, and she leaned against a dresser for support. Cole stood nearby watching her, his face sober, his body tense. Although he’d been with her the entire time, a silent, supportive force in the background, she hadn’t really been seeing him, thinking about him, until now.
“Cole,” she whispered. “I don’t know what to do.”
He didn’t ask what she meant. He searched her eyes and face with an intensity that told her he knew she was talking about them. “Then don’t do anything.”
Don’t do anything. She supposed that made sense. It was certainly the easiest solution for tonight. But she quickly discovered it wasn’t possible. Decisions had to be made immediately. Was she right to sleep with him?
Why not? You don’t know if Phillip has been found. You might learn tomorrow it’s all a mistake. And she felt a compelling need to immerse herself in Cole’s passion now more than ever. She’d been emotionally battered by her father’s frightening plans to destroy him, then jolted by the news of Phillip. She needed Cole tonight.
Phillip could be on his way home to you. She stood frozen and helplessly torn.
Cole didn’t touch her, as she half expected he would. He simply held her gaze with grave intensity as he prepared for bed. He unbuttoned his shirt. Pulled it off his broad shoulders. Tossed it aside.
The sight of his muscled, silky-haired chest and sinewy arms infused her with emotion. Emotion. Not just sensuality, but an ardent tenderness for him that burgeoned inside her. He affected her too strongly. He always had.
He unbuckled his leather belt. Unsnapped his jeans.
And sensuality coursed along with the tenderness. But guilt did, too. Phillip might have been languishing in some prison while she’d been making love to Cole. Even now, Phillip could be suffering … or rejoicing, knowing he was coming home.
She’d never been more confused in her life.
Cole unzipped his jeans, his gaze still locked with hers.
Abruptly she turned away. Until she knew what was right, she couldn’t sleep with him. But she’d promised to sleep with him, not only tonight, but also for the next five months. Conflicting ethics, conflicting emotions, overwhelmed her.
Cole loomed up behind her—near, but not touching. “Sleep on it, Tess,” he urged softly. “We’ll figure things out in the morning.”
We, he’d said. As if he’d stand by her, regardless of what happened. His kindness was more than she could bear. Blinking back sudden tears, she nodded and lurched away from him.
Opening the closet, she reached for a soft, long nightgown with tiny faded rosebuds and scalloped lace around the demure neckline. It hung beside the candlelight-lace negligee Lianna had slipped into her suitcase. The sight of that negligee sent a pang through Tess. She’d made up her mind to wear it tomorrow, at McCrary Place
. On their “honeymoon.”
They couldn’t go, of course. Not tomorrow. Maybe not ever.
Refusing to think past that curiously gut-wrenching fact, she headed for the bathroom with the nightgown. This would be the first time she’d worn any kind of night apparel to his bed. While she changed behind the closed door of the bathroom, she felt stricken. Why did it seem so wrong to withhold herself from him?
Determined to think with her head rather than her heart and body, she stepped out of the bathroom in her modest floor-length nightgown. Cole lay in bed, propped against the pillows, his hands clasped behind his nape. With his dark, sun-gilded hair, chiseled jaw, gleaming musculature and intense green eyes, his virile beauty struck her anew. The power of his body, the thrill of his lovemaking, fresh and evocative in her memory, armed him with even more potent appeal. She wanted him.
And he wanted her. His gaze left no doubt of that.
How could she have believed that a prim nightgown would make a difference between them? She considered sleeping in another bed, but she wasn’t that strong. She needed to be near him, even if they didn’t touch. Too affected by his stare, she averted her eyes from his, crossed the immense bedroom, slipped beneath the luxurious comforter and satin sheets, and settled onto her side of the bed. Still and silent, she lay staring at the ceiling.
He clicked off the bedside lamp, throwing the room into darkness.
She closed her eyes. Held her breath. Felt the beat of his heart, the heat of his body, the tension in his muscles. Yearned for him.
He didn’t reach for her.
A sense of loss gripped her. What difference would one more night of loving him make, she pleaded with herself. It might be the last chance she’d ever have… But her ethics wouldn’t allow it. What kind of woman had she become, wanting another man when her thoughts should be on her fiancé?
She tried to distract herself from her need for Cole with other concerns. Such as the curse. Had they succeeded in revoking it? Could the lifting of the curse have been a factor in Phillip’s sudden rescue … if he had, indeed, been found?
She had no answers. Only more questions. And as they piled up, one after the other, weighing down her heart, she choked back a cry and turned toward Cole. She gazed at him through the darkness, and knew that he gazed back. She reached for him.
He let out a harsh breath and pulled her into his embrace.
“Just hold me,” she whispered.
He did.
He held her. With everything in him, he held her. He shut his eyes, molded her body to his, absorbed her essence. And agonized. His desperation burned. He longed to kiss her until the taste and the feel of his mouth imprinted so deeply in her psyche that s
he would want no other man’s kiss. He longed to thrust into her; to incite a hot, fierce craving that only he could quench. He wanted to bind her to him with primal need. To brand her soul with his fire.
He wanted to make her his.
He loved her so much that it hurt, and he didn’t know what he’d do if she left him. And she very well could leave him. Tomorrow.
She wouldn’t want to break her commitment to him, even if Phillip returned. Her sense of honor and fairness was too strong. She would try to find a way to keep their marriage intact for the specified period of time. But she couldn’t continue to sleep with him. Her morals wouldn’t allow it. Her heart belonged to Phillip, which meant she belonged to Phillip.
Pain sluiced through him. How could Cole keep her with him if the man she loved returned? Even if he could bring himself to be that heartless, he couldn’t stand the torment of having her with him, but not having the right to love her. He couldn’t tolerate the knowledge that she’d rather be with someone else who waited for her across town.
What the hell could he do? Not much. He couldn’t even allow himself to hope that the man they’d found wasn’t Phillip. He wouldn’t hope against her hopes. He wouldn’t hold her in his arms and wish for the very thing that would break her heart.
The night, for Cole, was hell. But morning was worse. The phone rang early. Woke them up. He answered. A man asked for Tess McCrary. Cole handed her the phone. He knew who it was, even before she cried out his name.
She raised up onto her knees in his bed, then sat back on her legs, crying and laughing at the same time, choking out questions, murmuring replies. “You’re okay? You’re sure you’re okay? Yes, yes, I’m fine. Where are you? My parents’ house? God, Phillip … I can’t believe it’s you.” And she cried some more.
The call lasted only minutes. Cole rose from bed and dressed while she spoke.
Before she hung up, she whispered into the phone, “I love you, too.”
He knew then what he had to do.
*
A sense of unreality dogged her from the moment she’d heard Phillip’s voice. When she’d hung up from the call, Cole had hugged her, murmured something about being happy for her, and told her not to worry—he’d take care of things here. She hadn’t known exactly what he meant and hadn’t been thinking clearly enough to ask, but she was grateful for the sentiment. And then he’d left the house, apparently in a rush to attend to important business.
HOT-BLOODED HERO Page 18