by Jayne Castle
"But it will happen again as long as I'm around to tempt you," he half-smiled, his mouth quirking wryly. "And I
intend to stay around. So there you are." He shrugged massively.
"Don't act so damned smug!" she grated fiercely. "I may have been weak tonight, but I'll be on my guard now, won't I? I won't let myself be softened up by your lies as I was this weekend!"
"Reva, honey," he vowed with great calm, "I'm not going back to Texas without you. I'm going to stay right here in Portland, as close to you as I can manage, and I'm going to do my level best to tempt you into my bed as often as possible. I will also tempt you in every other way I can think of to take me into your heart and your home. You've got yourself another stray alley cat, sweetheart," he mocked, "and I warn you I'm every bit as cagey and shrewd as Xavier is when it comes to getting what I want. What makes you think you can resist me? You're too soft, too compassionate, and, deep down, you want me too much to send me to the devil where I belong."
Reva lay very still, staring openmouthed at the stranger who had reentered her world and decided to stay. How did you get rid of a stray cat who was bigger, stronger, and far tougher than you were? Especially when you had more than once willingly let yourself become trapped between his protective and possessive paws?
CHAPTER SIX
"Things were a hell of a lot simpler," Josh remarked after a long moment as Reva continued to stare helplessly up at him, "back there in that jungle. You didn't try to hide behind a lot of civilized, intellectual barriers."
"I'm not trying to hide behind anything," Reva snapped, finding her voice at last. "As soon as I got home I realized we were all wrong for each other!"
"Because you thought I was some sort of hired killer," he concluded. "I can understand how you would feel mixed emotions about someone like that regardless of what you'd had with him." He was a little too glib in his "understanding," Reva decided suddenly.
"It's not that cut and dried," Reva protested, still held unmoving under the pressure of his body. "The reasons I decided you and I don't belong together had to do with other things than what I thought was your job. And those other things are still part of you, Josh." She looked at him pleadingly, but even as she tried to argue her case she could sense the weakness in herself and she had the awful premonition that Josh sensed it also. "You can be very hard and cold and ruthless. I saw it in South America and I know that side of you hasn't vanished."
"But I was never that way with you, Reva," he interrupted with a strange, rough passion in his voice. "With
you that side of me does vanish. For God's sake, don't ever be afraid of me, Reva! Whatever else happens, promise me that you'll never go in fear of me. I couldn't abide that."
Reva shuddered very slightly at the new degree of demand in his words. Something near desperation flickered briefly in the lion eyes and then disappeared at once. But not before Reva felt all her defenses momentarily dissolve beneath the sudden urge to reassure and comfort him. He really wanted to pretend he could turn his back on that harsher side of his nature and have the other side of life for his own. For an instant Reva saw him as she had first seen Xavier when the cat had demanded entrance into her home. She couldn't ignore the urgency of the desire and determination that burned steadily in Josh's eyes. She could answer this one question for him, at least.
"I'm not afraid of you, Josh," she said softly, lifting a hand to lightly touch the gray wings at his temples. She couldn't suppress the tender, compassionate smile which curved her mouth even though she knew it was equivalent to giving Xavier that initial saucer of milk and a place to stay for the night. She was weak when it came to this particular sort of fundamental male appeal and she might as well admit it to herself.
Instantly the tension in him evaporated and before Reva quite realized what he intended, Josh lowered his head to kiss her almost lightly on the hps. The caress held none of the driving passion she had known earlier, only a kind of thankfulness and gratitude which she hadn't expected. Did her small reassurance mean so much to him then? she asked herself wonderingly.
He didn't raise his head again but nestled down beside her on the pillow, turning his face to bury it in the soft stuff of her hair. "Marry me, Reva," he ordered in a thick,
muffled voice. "Come with me to Houston and let me take care of you."
"Oh, Josh," she murmured desperately, wanting to cry, "you haven't understood anything I've tried to tell you tonight. I can't give up everything for a will-o'-the-wisp whim which may disappear overnight!"
"Then ask me to give up everything and marry you," he told her with the attitude of a large cat pouncing on a small, defenseless mouse.
He didn't move, his face still nuzzling her hair, but Reva jerked as if she'd been stung.
"What?" she gasped, astonished. Deliberately she struggled to put some distance between them so that she could see his face. "Ask you to give up everything! What's that supposed to mean?"
"Just what it sounds like," he half-smiled, his eyes locking with hers as she managed to turn her head a bit on the pillow. "Ask me to leave my job in Houston and move to Portland." He waited with a deceptively cool expression that totally confused Reva. What was he up to now?
"You just said you couldn't marry me if you didn't have a job," she reminded him carefully, warily.
"I said I couldn't ask you to marry me. A man has his pride," he added with a blandly disparaging smile. "But if you want me badly enough to ask me to give up everything I've worked for down in Houston and start a new life up here . . ."
"Josh Corbett, what the devil are you up to now?" Reva demanded, untangling herself from his embrace and maneuvering once again to a partially upright position. A position in which she was once again forced to grasp at the abused sheet. She pushed a handful of hair back behind her ear in an annoyed gesture. He rolled over on his back, his lean body half uncovered
by the quilt, and watched her face perceptively. "It's easy enough to grasp," he told her calmly. "It's suddenly occurred to me that I'm going about this all wrong. A matter of tactics, honey. I'm appealing to you on two opposing fronts. I've just realized that I would do better to concentrate my firepower on your weakest point."
"Josh, if you don't stop talking to me in that horrible fashion, I swear, I'll. . ."
"Let me explain," he begged soothingly, placatingly. "On the one hand I've been throwing myself on your mercy and telling you to take me into your life. Then I turned right around and negated that appeal by telling you to come into my life. You see?" He waved a hand in mild annoyance. "I've weakened the strength of both attacks by aiming them at two different aspects of your nature. A simple, intelligent study of the matter dictates that I'm not approaching my goal in the most efficient manner. I should be aiming everything I've got at your most vulnerable barrier."
"Which is?" Reva demanded menacingly, not caring one bit for his newfound look of self-satisfaction. It was the same expression he'd worn when he'd brought back the first "liberated" chicken during their stay in South America. For some completely inexplicable reason the memory and the present situation combined to reach her sense of humor. Deliberately she squashed that reaction.
"Which is," he announced politely, grandly, "your inability to ignore weary, battle-scarred, and uncivilized males who've seen the light and want a home. Don't worry, honey," he added quickly, "I can fake my way through polite society even if I'm not as pretty and polished looking as Tanner. Like Xavier I can adapt to high-rise buildings and Mozart concerts. . . ."
"Mozart!" Reva repeated waspishly, not altogether cer-
tain why she grasped at that slender straw. "You lied to me about that, too? You don't like Mozart?"
"Darling, I've never had much exposure to classical music," he excused himself apologetically. "I've spent the past several years based in the Southwest, and I'm afraid that means country-western. . . ."
"And British-style mysteries?" Reva felt compelled to ask with a sense of righteous indignation. "Were you
lying to me about liking that, too?"
He sighed, appearing vastly repentant. "I'm afraid I've been a science-fiction fan since I was nine years old."
"But you seem to know something about the subject," Reva heard herself protest. "I mean, when we watched television the other night you picked the British film ..."
"I could tell by the way you read off the list of selections which one you wanted to see," he explained wryly. "I'm very good at reading the nuances in people's voices. It's a skill I've had to develop in my work."
"But, Josh, I distinctly remember not wanting to influence you in the matter. I tried to be quite neutral about it!"
"Which told me everything I needed to know," he grinned ruefully. "You were intent on being the perfect hostess to the sick visitor."
"You knew something about authors in the field," she insisted, not liking the idea that he had been able to manipulate her so easily.
"I'd been through your book and record shelf at odd moments, such as when you went shopping. All I had to do was glance through the brief biographies on the book jackets to pick up information I needed on authors."
"Another trick of your trade?" she grumbled.
"I'm afraid so."
"Josh, what is it exactly that you do for your company?" Reva asked with new suspicion.
"I'm a sort of troubleshooter, I guess," he admitted, watching for her reaction.
"A troubleshooter," she repeated with a frown, wondering how much territory that title covered.
"I've spent a lot of years coming and going in South and Central America," he elaborated patiently. "My firm uses me to deal with the local members of governments and the people who make financial decisions. I've got a lot of contacts and I know how to get past much of the incredible bureaucracy down there. Believe me, it's worse than our own!"
"You said you were the highest-ranking member on the scene when trouble broke out down there four months ago."
"I was." He didn't seem very interested in the discussion. "The firm has to give me a title to match the salary I get."
"And you're willing to give up this fantastic salary and title?" she prodded skeptically. He was trying to manipulate her again, she knew it. She just didn't know how to prove it!
"The moment you ask me to marry you," he returned immediately, cheerfully.
"I don't believe it." Her voice was flat, reflecting her certainty that no man would walk away from a high-paying position for the sake of a mere passing fancy. Or for any other reason, she added mentally.
"Try me," he invited smoothly. Too smoothly. Reva grew even more suspicious. What was he attempting to pull?
"Josh, you're absolutely incorrigible," she groaned, once more hauling the sheet around her and sitting up on
the edge of the bed. She flicked him a shuttered glance as she reached for her robe.
"I prefer to think of myself as persevering," he told her with only the smallest hint of arrogance. He turned on his side watching almost wistfully as she hurriedly adjusted the robe around herself and stood.
Reva saw the expression, knew he wanted to ask her to stay, and knew, too, that she had to get back to the safety of her own room. She had to think, she decided, and she had to get Josh Corbett out from underfoot while she did it.
"There's not much use in running away, honey," he told her softly. "I'm going to continue the seduction routine. Sooner or later I'll find something that will work with you."
"I've told you I would never ask a man to give up everything for me," she muttered, realizing grimly that a part of her was intrigued. "Furthermore, modern as I like to think I am, I don't quite picture myself asking any man to marry me. There's a question of female pride involved, I think!" But she was aware that her words were spoken as much in challenge as in denial. It was as if she almost wanted to see what he would do, how he would counter next. Was she bent on testing him in some fashion? Was she trying to discover how badly he wanted a home with her? Even now, when he was demanding so much and trying so hard to make her accept him, he never spoke of love. She was a whim, a fixation, a temporary obsession. She had to remember that.
But how strong could an obsession like this become for a man who had probably spent too much time dealing with the rougher side of life? As strong as love might become for another man? Unconsciously she shook her head, telling herself not to become fanciful. Above all else Josh
Corbett was a most pragmatic, survival-oriented man. Such men did not spend long with short-term fancies. If they did they would not become high-paid troubleshooters for competitive energy firms!
"Then if you do wind up asking me to stay here in Portland," he told her deliberately, responding to her last words, "I'll know I've won completely, won't I? It will mean you've accepted the responsibility of me and that you've swallowed your own feminine pride." He slanted a glance upward at her, a glance which told her nothing of what he was really thinking.
She watched him for a moment in utter bemusement. "You never give up, do you?"
"Not when I want something badly enough," he agreed equably.
Reva drew a deep, steadying breath and made a strong mental effort to shake off the sensation of inevitability. "I can't stop you from hanging around my door, Josh Corbett," she began firmly.
"Just as you couldn't stop Xavier?" he chuckled.
"But I can put my foot down about having you in my apartment!" she concluded a little ruthlessly, feeling pressed.
"I should have stayed sick," he sighed, flopping back onto the pillows and closing his eyes briefly in disgust. "You're going to kick me out?" he asked, not opening his lashes. Those lashes, thought Reva inconsequentially, were much too long for a man. Especially for a man who had such a rock-hard face.
"Letting you stay would be admitting failure, wouldn't it?" she quipped dryly. "I can hardly do that at this point! And after hearing you admit to so many lies and attempts at manipulation, I would be a complete fool to allow you to continue to stay here!"
"You're not kicking me out because I allowed you a few misconceptions," he told her, shooting her a hooded glance from under the long lashes.
"Misconceptions!" she repeated, outraged at the euphemism.
"You're throwing me out," he continued bluntly, "because you're afraid you'll find yourself sneaking out here again tomorrow night."
"That's not true!" she hissed furiously, knowing full well it was. She was humiliated that she had shown herself so easily tempted by this man, but Reva told herself she would be damned if she would admit to it. "I happen to like my privacy. I only let you stay in the first place because I thought you were ill and because you pointed out that I owed you a favor. That wasn't very nice, Josh," she tacked on in annoyance.
"Forcing you to let me stay that first night by reminding you I'd saved your life? I was desperate." He lifted a hand, palm out in mute appeal. "Give me some credit. I didn't go on using that line. I switched to the sick routine as soon as I could."
"You will leave in the morning," she stated with a fine hauteur, lifting her chin regally. "Okay," he agreed simply.
"Okay? Is that all you can say? You're not going to argue?" She stared at him in complete astonishment.
"Nope. I'll go." He paused significantly, eyeing her interestedly. "What's the matter? Did you want me to refuse?"
"Of course not!" she stormed. "I will say good-bye to you on my way to work!" Reva turned and headed for her own bedroom, not bothering to give him the satisfaction of a last backward glance. When she reached the protection of her room she shut the door behind her much too
gently. The small action, more than anything else, told an informed watcher how upset she really was. Xavier, curled comfortably in her bed, lifted his head with a questioning alertness that he wouldn't have bothered with if she'd slammed the door.
With a small groan of helpless despair Reva scrambled into bed beside the cat, asking herself over and over again what it was about the man in the other room which made her react in such a totally unc
haracteristic fashion. It was as if there were some elemental contact which flowed between them regardless of any rational defenses she tried to implant in her mind. She was right to force him out of the apartment, Reva thought dismally. Having him under her roof would only lead to more incidents like tonight. She winced inwardly at the memory of how she had invited herself into his bed, throwing an arm over her eyes as if to shut out the mental picture.
Never had she found herself so weakened by a man, she acknowledged unhappily. Always before in her relationships she had been in control, just as she was in control around Bruce. Since her stupidity at the age of twenty-five she had taken great care to be the one controlling the situation, never letting the relationship control her.
But in the short time since his return to the States, Josh Corbett had easily managed to manipulate her in such an outrageous style that Reva didn't know whether to laugh or cry over her own idiocy. Tonight had been the turning point, though, she vowed silently, seethingly. She would force some physical distance between herself and Josh. Perhaps that would protect her until he tired of his infatuation with the dream of a home of his own.
Xavier very graciously got to his feet and padded up the hills and valleys of the quilt to touch his small nose to
Reva's chin. She reached out to stroke him reassuringly and attempted a small smile at the huge gray animal.
"I'll bet you're on his side, aren't you, cat?" she whispered wryly. "With your instinct for getting what you want, you probably appreciate a human being who works the same way you do! What is it that makes males like you and Josh pick on females like me? Are we such easy victims?" With a sigh Reva turned her face into the pillow and determined to sleep.
Although he was up ahead of her the next morning— even had the coffee on—there was no sign that Josh had started to pack his battered leather bag in preparation for moving out. His shaving things were stacked neatly in the bath and the suit he had worn the first night was still hanging in the hall closet. Reva noticed it when she opened the door to find her sleek red shoulder bag. Slung over the suit, she saw, was the brilliant crimson tie Josh had worn with it and the sight of it brought an unwilling smile to her lips.