She was probably crazy for going to his home, but she couldn’t leave the accusation she had flung at him this afternoon hanging between them. Although she understood his fear for Colin, she had to make Michael see that he was asking something of her that her conscience said was wrong.
Most of all though, she bitterly regretted her criticism of him as a father. She knew how much he cared. She’d seen his attempts to do his best by Colin. His only crime was that in trying to protect his son, inexperience had made him clumsy.
Even so, why couldn’t he see that she could be his ally in dealing with Colin? Instead, he had effectively rejected her friendship, and that was what hurt most deeply. But she had been totally wrong to use this issue to get back at him, even unconsciously.
The taxi dropped her at the open wrought-iron gates, just as a gleaming Cadillac turned into the drive. It pulled up a hundred feet ahead, in front of an imposing neo-Georgian facade ablaze with lights. A well-dressed couple emerged from the car as the front door opened and Michael himself appeared.
Sabrina stopped dead. He had company. What kind of stupid idea was this, going calling at the Worth mansion? She turned and began striding back down the drive.
“Sabrina?”
She walked a little faster.
“Sabrina, wait!”
She heard his footsteps crunching quickly down the gravel behind her and quickened her pace. Just as she reached the gate she felt a strong hand curl around her arm to stop her.
Her heart was pounding, but it wasn’t from the exercise. Trying to calm herself, she slowly turned to face him.
“Sabrina.” He stared down at her with a strange mixture of gladness and uncertainty that made her catch her breath. But he wasn’t angry. It amazed her somehow.
“What are you doing here?” he asked softly.
He wore black tie and looked devastatingly handsome. She felt a sense of acute loss for what could never be, as sharp as any physical pain.
She cleared her throat. “I wanted to talk to you, but I shouldn’t have come. I can see you’re busy. Perhaps some other time.” Turning quickly, she began to walk away again.
Once more he stopped her, this time with both hands on her arms, his fingers gently massaging her flesh with intoxicating pressure, so close behind her that she could feel his warm breath on her hair.
“Please, don’t go yet.” His low murmur made the very air around her vibrate with suppressed emotion. “Not till you’ve given me a chance to apologize for this afternoon.”
There was something in his voice she’d never heard before, something that caused her breathing to become rapid and shallow.
Slowly he turned her around to face him. And there was something new in his eyes—a bright intensity.
He looked into her eyes and she saw self-condemnation. “Sabrina, I’m sorry. Can you ever forgive me?”
Somehow he had hold of her hands and his fingers were absently playing with hers. He searched her face anxiously, his voice rueful, yet resigned. “I don’t understand why I’m behaving like such a jerk.”
She pulled her hands away from him. His warm, caressing fingers were making a mockery of her concentration.
“I’m the one who should apologize. I said some unforgivable things and I would do anything in the world to take them back.”
“What did you say that wasn’t true?”
He moved to close the distance and her senses swam again with his nearness, feeling the warmth of his body on her skin as if they were actually touching.
“What I said was cruel and wrong. I had no right to sit in judgment.” Emotion tightened her throat, making her voice husky.
He moved slowly until he stood on the other side of the gate, looking at her through the scrollwork, and she couldn’t avoid his gaze. He stared down into her eyes as if he wanted to probe the secrets of her soul. Suddenly aware of the deep silence, she caught her breath.
They stood quite alone by the big iron gates. The towering oaks and maples lining the street were disappearing into an evening mist that softened the outlines of the great house behind him, and she could see droplets of moisture swirling in the soft nimbus of light around the gatepost carriage lamps.
Once again she felt deeply, dangerously vulnerable. Michael had a power over her, a sexual magnetism that could make her forget everything. She had to get away from him, because it was only away from him that she could deal with the feelings he aroused in her.
“That’s all I have to say.” She choked out the words. “I’ll let you get back to your guests now. Good night.”
She spun away, but he moved quickly around the gate and stepped in front of her, barring her escape.
He took her hands. “No, please. Don’t go,” he finished softly, yet with what might have been a hint of pleading.
She could only stare up at him, too astounded to say anything. Then suddenly her eyes filled with tears and his face fragmented in front of her. Willing them not to spill over onto her cheek, she determinedly blinked them away. But she couldn’t stop her voice from quivering, or the words from tumbling out.
“I was foolish enough to think you knew me better than to have such a low opinion of me.”
“I don’t have a low opinion of you. I have a low opinion of me.”
With a shake of her head, she pulled her hands away from his and took a deep breath. “Before you go any further, I want you to know that I didn’t just come to apologize. Regardless of what you think, I meant what I said this afternoon. I’m not going to turn my back on Colin. He needs me.”
“My son is very lucky to have someone like you on his side.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and raised his face to the misty lamplight. Taking a deep breath, he looked down at her again, and now there was derision in his face. “I was jealous.” He gave a small mocking laugh. “Of my own son.”
She expelled her breath sharply. “What are you saying?”
“Pretty depraved stuff, huh?” He gave another brief, humorless laugh, holding her in his intense, ironic gaze.
“Oh, Michael, I’m not trying to take your son away from you.”
He took both her arms in a painful grip and brought her around to face him. “No!” he ground out, then repeated, low and tense, “I was jealous of Colin.”
“You mean...” She finally understood what he was trying to say. Slowly she shook her head and stepped away from him. “No, you can’t mean that.”
He smiled with a self-mocking twist of the lips. “I’m afraid I do.” His eyes gleaming with breathtaking intensity, he slowly stepped toward her. “I think we need to talk.”
Her knees shook as she backed away from him, holding out one hand to ward him off, but she was weakening—she could feel it. Finally she felt the rough brick of the gatepost against her back.
His unrelenting gaze held hers as he reached out and cupped her face in his hand. She closed her eyes as his thumb slowly slid across her cheek with a soft, feather-light touch that left her skin tingling.
But when it slid caressingly over her parted lips and insinuated itself between them, her lids flew open. For a moment she stared into his glittering eyes, more intensely blue than she had ever seen them before, even in the shadowed light.
He held her mesmerized, as if he were drinking in the sight of her. Then, with a small, anguished sigh, he slowly lowered his head and she held her breath until his lips settled on hers.
A warm, tender and searching kiss at first, it quickly became hot and demanding. She fought the urge to wrap her arms around him, but couldn’t stop herself from clinging to his lapels, trembling so hard, she was afraid she couldn’t hold herself up. When his tongue parted her lips for a few insane moments she reveled in the sensual delight, the arousal that left her quivering with the need for more.
Instead she turned away and pushed gently at his chest. He released her, but placed one arm on either side of her, keeping her prisoner.
“Michael...I have to go now.”
“Sabri
na...”
“No.” She pushed his arm and he dropped it, freeing her so she could put some distance between them. He remained standing by the gatepost, his gaze holding hers with unwavering intensity. “This is still crazy.”
“Yes, I know,” he murmured, “but there’s no denying it’s happening.”
She turned and looked at the house, blazing with lights. The mansion stood as a tangible symbol of all the reasons why this would never work.
“No. I can’t deny it. But you said yourself that you had no time for involvements. You said your work consumed you.”
“Ever since I met you, work seems to be the farthest thing from my mind.” He gave her a rueful smile.
She shook her head. “You said—”
“Sabrina, I said a lot of stupid things. All I know is that something’s happening between us and I want to find out what it is.”
“Whatever may or may not be happening between us, I don’t want it to go any further.” She was amazed at how steady and decisive her voice sounded.
He betrayed no reaction, then sighed and gave a small shrug. “Then I have to respect your wishes, don’t I?”
“Yes,” she murmured. “Good night.”
She turned on trembling legs toward the road, but he reached out and stopped her, cupping her shoulder with his warm, lean fingers.
“Wait a minute. How did you get here?”
“I took a cab.”
“Well, then, you’d better come inside while I call one for you.”
“That won’t be necessary. I can flag one down when I get to Bloor Street.”
“If you think I’m going to let you roam around looking for a cab at this time of night, you can think again.”
“Really...I’ll be fine.”
“Sabrina, don’t argue with me.”
His tone told her there’d be no point. Reluctantly she walked with him up the gravel drive lined with flower beds and shrubbery to the house. Passing through the pillared portico, he opened one of the main double doors to usher her in. She hung back, but he gave her a push.
“Don’t just stand there, go on in.”
The foyer was a vast expanse of black-and-white marble tiles leading to a broad red-carpeted staircase. In the center of the hall stood a beautifully carved antique Queen Anne table polished to a mirrorlike finish, reflecting a silver bowl of roses.
Three sets of doors opened off each side of the staircase. Through the nearest doors to her right she could hear voices and laughter. Michael took her elbow and led her toward the sounds.
“No.” She jerked violently away from him.
“What’s wrong?” He looked taken aback.
“I don’t want to go in there.”
“Why not? You can meet my friends, maybe have a drink while you wait for your cab.”
“No,” she said firmly. At his puzzled look she added, “I’m not dressed.”
He let his eyes drop slowly over her white T-shirt, lingering on the outline of her breasts before going on to her worn and faded jeans, then gave her a small, dangerous smile that made her toes curl. “You look fine to me.”
She couldn’t allow herself to be distracted. “Really, I’d rather not.”
He shrugged. “Okay, then you’d better come in here.” His smile became even more dangerous. “At least I’ll have you all to myself for a few minutes more.”
Linking his long fingers with hers, he led her across the hall to the opposite front corner room that seemed to be his study. In the soft glow of the green-shaded lamp on the desk, she could see one wall lined with books from floor to ceiling. An overstuffed leather sofa and two armchairs were set on a Persian carpet in front of the fireplace, and the tall, elegant Georgian windows filling the two remaining walls looked out onto the misty drive.
Michael stepped over to pick up the phone, resting one hip on the desk, while she hovered indecisively by the door.
“Don’t just stand there. I’m not going to bite you. Come in and sit down.” With a smile, he hooked one foot around the leg of a Duncan Phyfe chair and pulled it nearer the desk.
As he ordered the cab, she sank down unwillingly into the chair and looked around the room, anywhere but at his face.
He hung up. “It’ll be here soon.”
“Good.” She realized how much relief there had been in that one word. “I mean, I feel terrible keeping you from your guests like this.”
He still had that small disturbing smile, as if he could see through her lame excuses and knew exactly why she was nervous. The hint of satisfaction made her feel wary.
“I’m sure they can entertain themselves for a few minutes.” The smile deepened. “This evening has turned out a lot better than I had anticipated.”
At that moment headlights swung across the room from the drive outside. Sabrina breathed a sigh of relief and stood up. But he stood at the same time and they were suddenly much too close.
“My cab’s here,” she murmured inanely, looking up into his eyes, intense, penetrating, waiting. To hell with reason, desire murmured urgently. All she had to do was take one step closer and press her yearning body against his.
“Sabrina, do you want to send him away?” His voice was a husky whisper. “Do you want me to send them all away?”
She backed up, tripping over the chair behind her. He reached out to steady her, bringing her close against him.
“You’re crazy.” She let out a nervous, breathless little laugh. “You’d do that for me?” The thought of him sending his distinguished guests packing just because he wanted to be with her was ludicrous.
But he cupped his hand under her chin. “I’d rather be with you than anyone else.” The simple, unequivocal sincerity in his voice left her defenseless.
“Michael...” In his eyes she saw blazing desire, the same desire burning up the air between them.
He was going to kiss her. She felt a sense of panic rising up inside. If he touched her, if his lips touched hers, it would be disastrous, irrevocable. They would be making love, blind to his friends waiting across the hall, blind to the cab waiting outside. None of that would matter. She’d be lost to all reason except her need for him.
She put a hand on his chest to stop him. “Please...I have to go.”
He sighed and looked down into the slightly pleading expression in her eyes. For a moment he tightened his grip. He wanted her so badly right now. He wanted to carry her upstairs and make love to her, because making love to her would drive away the loneliness, the depressing memories this house held for him.
But she didn’t want that to happen and he had to respect that. He could see that she was fighting the attraction. It would be easy to seduce her. And unless she wanted him as much as he wanted her right now, it would a cold kind of comfort.
He slowly released her and she took a hasty step back. “Goodbye, Michael.”
In one desperate rush, she fled the room, raced across the foyer and out through the front door. That should tell him all too clearly that she didn’t want any kind of involvement with him. Did he need to be hit over the head to make it sink in?
* * *
SABRINA SAT beside Charlie on a bench on the Beaches boardwalk in the shade of a big old willow, looking out on the dark blue expanse of Lake Ontario. She’d put it off until now so it wouldn’t spoil their dinner, but he deserved to know. And after walking around half the day, stunned and bitter, she needed to talk.
“Charlie, I have something important to tell you.”
He turned and gave her a long look, his eyes twinkling. “Is it time to wish you happy?”
For a second she stared at him in confusion, then realized what he was getting at and blushed scarlet. Charlie gave her a keen, probing look.
“Michael Worth is canceling the parade,” she said quickly. “This year will be the last.”
His face fell, but she sensed that his disappointment had nothing to do with the parade. “That’s too bad. I’m really sorry to hear that.” Charlie shook his
white head, only mildly regretful. “It’ll be missed.”
“Bad! It’s devastating! How could he do this to me?” She saw him shoot her a questioning look and added, “I mean...to make a decision like this without even telling me.”
“If he didn’t tell you, then how do you know?”
“I overheard Walter Stevenson talking to Jonathan.” That was the worst of it. Sitting there in her office, hearing them out in the corridor solemnly agreeing that it was the end of an era. “And when I asked Anya, she didn’t deny it.”
“I see.” Charlie stroked his chin thoughtfully. “This won’t affect your job, Sabrina. After all, it’s not just the parade...”
“I’m not worried about my job. But if he cancels the parade it’ll the first time in seventy years that Toronto hasn’t had one. Think about the kids, Charlie! And the memories it brings back for their parents and grandparents. Nothing brings people together in this city like that parade. The bigger Toronto gets, the more we need it. There are so few occasions when we remember that we’re all neighbors and feel a sense of community.”
“Yes, I know, Sabrina....” He nodded patiently.
“And what about the volunteers? People like you.”
“I know, Sabrina....”
“Think of old George. He’s been marching in that parade since he was a Boy Scout.”
“I know, Sabrina...”
“For the past five years he’s been doing a terrific job of coordinating the marching bands. He does it for nothing. It’s part of his life.”
“Sabrina,” Charlie broke in finally. “Why don’t you go to Michael Worth and talk to him about it?”
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do. He’s coming home from London tonight.”
Charlie shifted a little on the bench and fixed her with a serious look. “Now, Sabrina, don’t you go flying off the handle and say or do something you’ll regret. Maybe you’d better wait until Monday morning to have this little chat.”
“And spend a whole weekend wondering what’s going on? Uh-uh.” She shook her head emphatically.
“Is that the only reason you want to go over there tonight?”
Man Under the Mistletoe Page 11