by Janet Dailey
“Come here,” he ordered crisply.
Swallowing jerkily, she walked toward him, stopping beside his chair and gazing down at him. Her long hair fell forward across her face and she nervously tucked the red gold locks behind her ears. Jarod had evidently discarded his jacket while she had been changing the record because she was suddenly aware that only a white silk shirt covered his chest. Amanda watched as he impatiently removed his tie, tossing it on the table on the other side of him, and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt. The sight of the dark hairs curling on his chest sent her heart catapulting into her throat. She started to turn away, but his hand caught at her wrist.
“Your pulse is racing,” he said.
“I know,” Amanda murmured.
“Do I disturb you?"
With his eyes watching her so closely, she couldn't answer that question. To admit that he did would make her too vulnerable; to lie that he didn't was impossible.
His hand slid across the lower part of her stomach to rest on her hipbone. “You don't need to answer that question,” Jarod said in a complacent voice. “I can feel the way your bones almost melt when I touch you."
Her startled eyes swept his face, but he was looking at the agitated movement of her breasts and the way the material covering them strained at the narrow straps supporting her dress.
“Jarod, please—” she began.
“Please what?” he growled. His eyes blazed upward to her face. “For twenty-four damn hours, I've been remembering the way those proper lips taunted me."
“Don't say that,” she protested.
“Why not?” he snapped savagely, brutally yanking her off balance and pulling her across his lap. “Right now you feel as improper as I do. Why shouldn't we admit it?” A hand moved roughly over her hip to her back while she felt the thudding of his heart beneath her own hands. “I wanted to hold you like this last night. Do you deny that you didn't want it, too?"
“No,” Amanda whispered.
“I couldn't forget the scent of your perfume or how soft your skin was when I touched it,” he murmured, threading the fingers of one hand through her hair. “This morning it was even worse, being in a room with you, alone, and not taking you in my arms. Then earlier we had to waste so much time over that stupid meal. All the while I'm aching with the need to see and touch every inch of you."
A whimpering moan slipped out of Amanda's lips at the blatant passion in his voice. His fingers automatically moved to the corner of her mouth and parted her lips while searing desire scorched her with the hottest blue flames.
His arms crushed her against him as he possessively demanded her complete response. The masterful caress of his hands over her thighs and hips, across her back and shoulders, aroused her to a fever pitch of longing. She felt like an addict who couldn't get enough of his kisses even as he ravaged and explored her mouth and neck, sending torrents of liquid fire through her veins.
A sudden release of all inhibitions seemed to enclose her in a velvet mist. Her head was tilted back over his arm while Jarod ran his mouth over her collarbone, pushing aside the offending strap and sliding it down her arm until it was permanently out of the way. Through the reeling of her mind, Amanda felt the brush of his fingertips in the hollow between her breasts. Instinctively she stiffened when the material of her dress slipped unresistingly down.
Instantly alert, no longer possessed by her drowning senses, she felt his hand sliding along her back, down the nakedness of her spine. With sickening swiftness she realized that the sensation of release she had experienced moments before had been the expert movements of Jarod's hand when he had unzipped her dress.
The suddenness of her lunge away from him was unexpected. She stumbled shakily to her feet, clutching the bodice tightly to her, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears of shame and uncertainty. Desire still blazed in the eyes he turned toward her, but it was quickly replaced by a confused anger as she backed away from him. She trembled with self-contempt over how close she had come to allowing him to seduce her. He must think she was some local tramp! She had behaved like one, responding wantonly to his advances.
Chapter Five
“I WANT TO GO HOME.” Her voice was jerky with barely controlled sobs of humiliation.
Jarod rose to his feet, a black scowl clouding his face while he towered threateningly in front of her. Amanda would have fled then if she had believed her legs would support her.
“Why the display of outrage?” he demanded savagely, his lip curling at the tears that hovered on the edge of her lashes. “I made it clear I wanted you."
Had he? Yes, she supposed, he had, only she had been too inexperienced and blinded by the overwhelming attraction he held for her to understand the completeness of his statement. His anger was justified to that extent and she found she couldn't meet his eyes.
“I'm sorry,” she murmured, looking anywhere in the room except at him. “I'm just not that kind of girl."
Contemptuous laughter rang harshly through the room. “Are you going to tell me you're a virgin?” he jeered sarcastically. “I don't believe that I'm the first man to touch you that way."
“It doesn't matter whether you believe me or not.” Her throat was working convulsively.
Jarod moved with such striking swiftness that she wasn't able to avoid him as his hands reached out to dig into her shoulders and pull her viciously against him.
“You're lying!” his husky voice growled. “I don't give a damn! I don't have to be the first man. There's no need to play the innocent."
“I am not playing!” Amanda cried out bitterly. The painful sobs now came freely from her throat. “It's the truth! Now let me go!"
He shook her until her head was bobbing from side to side uncontrollably. “Is it money you want? Are you afraid I won't pay you?"
The violent shaking stopped and Amanda sagged limply in his hands. “What do you want for proof?” she sobbed weakly. “Shall I let you rape me?"
He grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her head back to stare into her face. A muscle twitched near the corner of his eye where a glimmer of doubt lurked.
“Are you telling me the truth?” His voice was ominously quiet.
“Yes,” she whispered.
There was a string of angry expletives as he abruptly released her and turned away. A hand savagely raked his hair. “From now on,” Jarod muttered beneath his breath, his back still turned to her, “you'd better stick to the shallow water until you learn to swim."
Amanda was too embarrassed to reply as she struggled to slip the strap over her shoulder and make her shaking fingers rezip her dress. But her movements were awkward and uncoordinated, achieving little success. In the next minute, Jarod was turning her around and pushing her hands away.
“I've had more practice at this than you have,” he jeered, closing the zipper with one fluid movement.
His fingers closed over her waist, firmly pivoting her around to face him. For one crazy moment she thought he was going to take her in his arms. As she brushed the tears from her cheeks, she realized that she wanted him to hold her and ease the ache in her heart.
“We'll forget about next Saturday night,” he said tautly. “The less I see of you, the better."
“Of course,” Amanda murmured as someone twisted the knife in her stomach.
“Come on, I'll take you home.” Jarod was striding away from her toward the door and she followed meekly, scraping together what little dignity and self-respect that remained.
Jarod said not a word as he held the car door open for her, nor even when he slid behind the wheel a few minutes later. The sky was black with lingering clouds blocking out most of the stars and allowing the moon to peep out occasionally. As soon as Jarod reached the main road, he accelerated the car until the telephone poles were only a blur. Amanda knew he could hardly wait to get her home. When he finally pulled up at her home, the house was ablaze with lights.
“What time is it?” she asked nervously.
“Nearly ten.” He hadn't switched the engine off.
Her family would be up, no doubt waiting to hear about her evening. Amanda began patting and smoothing her rumpled hair and trying to wipe away all traces of tears from her face. With an angry ejaculation, Jarod turned the ignition switch, shutting off the engine, and flipped down the visor in front of her, revealing a mirror on the other side.
“You're a mess,” he muttered grimly. Rummaging through the glove compartment, he paused to hand her a comb.
The reflection in the mirror confirmed his statement. Even in the dim nightglow, Amanda could see the smudged streaks on her face where the mascara had run. Her hair was so rumpled and tousled it looked as if she had just climbed out of bed. As she remedied that with the comb, she saw Jarod tearing open a tiny packet that contained one of those commercially packaged wet towels.
“Turn around.” His fingers gripped her chin to ensure that she did as he commanded.
“Why are you doing this?” Amanda whispered. The stringent scent of soap-filled wetness acted as reviving smelling salts as he roughly wiped the traces of mascara from her cheeks. “Why do you care what my family will think?"
His eyes gleamed cynically at her through the darkness. “Because I don't want to be forced to find a new manager at the mill."
“You know who my father is?” she breathed. “There are several families named Bennett in Oak Springs."
“But only one with a red-haired daughter.” Jarod looked at her derisively. “Did you think I hadn't checked on you? The names of your two nieces are Teresa and Jennifer. Would you like their birth dates, or your grade point average in college?"
Hysterical laughter bubbled inside her. “I should be honored that you found me fit company. What a pity you picked me for your night's entertainment!"
“Who would guess that a woman could reach the age of twenty-one in these liberated times and remain innocent? You should enter a convent,” he sneered.
His taunt demanded retaliation, and Amanda struck out with her hand at the features of chiseled bronze. Needle-sharp barbs stung her palm as it made contact with his cheek. Her heart leaped in fear at the gathering mask of black fury. She pushed open the door and scrambled out of the car, but Jarod was sliding out her side and caught her before she was a step away. He pulled her against the tapering length of his body. Wild tremors shivered through her as she struggled to elude the mouth descending toward hers, but it closed over her lips and punishingly devoured them.
There was a sudden blaze of light from the porch followed by the laughing voices of her parents, then shocked silence. At the first sound, Jarod had thrust her away from him, but not before her parents, sister, and grandfather had seen the way they had been molded together. Pain from the cruel grip of Jarod's fingers digging into her waist kept Amanda from dashing into the house.
“Good evening, Mr. Bennett,” Jarod greeted him calmly.
“Mr. Colby,” her father returned with a nod, recovering as quickly as Jarod had. “I must apologize for our intrusion. None of us heard your car drive up, and Amanda hasn't been home from a date at this hour since she was sixteen."
“I have an early flight in the morning,” Jarod replied, as if that was the explanation. “It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Bennett.” His head moved briefly in the direction of her mother before he turned it to Amanda. Only she was close enough to see the freezing coldness in his eyes. “Amanda,” he murmured with patronizing politeness.
“Good night.” She forced the words from her throat.
She used the precious moments that it took for him to get in his car and drive away to gather her wits before walking to the porch where her family waited. Her grandfather was grumbling about Yankees under his breath while shuffling toward a rocking chair as Amanda slowly climbed the porch steps. No one spoke.
“I've had a hectic day. I ... I think I'll go ahead and turn in,” she murmured, knowing she was fooling none of them, but her parents let her go with curious looks and nods of good night.
All except her younger sister Bonnie, who trailed after her as Amanda walked into the house. “Where did you go? What did you do?” Bonnie whispered excitedly. “If he'd held me like that, I'd be absolutely devastated! When will he be back? Do you suppose he'll call you while he's gone?"
Amanda pressed her fingers against her forehead, feeling that any moment she would snap in two. “Bonnie, please,” she protested with a tortured cry, “I have an awful headache. I don't feel like talking tonight."
A look of stunned pain crossed her sister's face. After either one of them had come home from a date, they had always got together for an hour of girl talk. Now Amanda was shutting her out.
“I'm sorry,” Amanda murmured, and raced up the stairs to her room.
With the door securely closed behind her, she wished her memory had a self-destructive button so she could wipe away the events of the evening and forget what a complete fool she had made of herself. Her arms wound themselves tightly around her as she tried to forget the thrill she had experienced under Jarod's expert caress. But she had only to close her eyes to feel the sensual pressure of his lips on her and the answering surge of warmth from her middle,
There was a light rap on her door in warning before her mother walked into the room, enabling Amanda to start unzipping her dress as though she had been in the act of changing her clothes.
“Hello, mom,” she said, striving for indifference.
“Bonnie said you had a headache. Is there anything wrong?"
“It's only tension,” Amanda answered with a shrug, reaching into the closet for a hanger to put her dress on.
“I hope we didn't embarrass you tonight. We honestly didn't know you were out there."
“I know."
“Your Mr. Colby seems like a very nice man.”
“He's not my Mr. Colby!” Amanda snapped, and immediately covered her mouth as she turned her rounded brown eyes on her mother. “Sorry—I didn't mean to shout at you."
A tiny frown made worried lines on her mother's face. “Will you be seeing him again, Mandy?"
It all became too much for her. Amanda couldn't keep up the pretense that nothing was wrong. Her shoulders hunched forward as she cradled her churning stomach in her arms.
“No, mother.” Her head moved painfully from side to side. “I won't be seeing him again."
She felt the touch of her mother's hands on her shoulders and turned instinctively for the comfort they promised. She suddenly didn't feel like an adult.
“Do you want to, Mandy?” her mother asked softly, cradling the silent girl against her breast, feeling the pain that was transmitted.
“Yes.” Then, “No, I don't.” Amanda straightened and breathed in deeply. She wasn't going to let herself cry. Not again.
“Tonight—” Mrs. Bennett began hesitantly, picking up the vibrations of conflicting emotions warring inside her daughter.
“Tonight was a mistake that neither Jarod nor I want to repeat,” Amanda sighed. “I really am tired, mom."
“All right, dear. No more questions.” The older woman smiled and brushed her cheek with a fleeting kiss before leaving the room.
* * * *
“WHICH ONE OF YOU GIRLS is going to pick up your father?” Mrs. Bennett called from the back door of the house.
Amanda glanced at Bonnie. “Don't look at me,” her sister said. “As soon as I finish watering the garden, I'm going in the house to water myself. You go and get dad."
“Okay,” Amanda agreed, rubbing the sore muscles of her lower back. “Hose my legs off, but for heaven's sake don't get my shorts wet because I don't want to change my clothes."
Bonnie obligingly turned the nozzle toward her sister, letting the water spray over the lower part of Amanda's legs while avoiding the red material of her shorts. Water squished in Amanda's canvas shoes, but it felt refreshingly cool after two hours in the hot afternoon sun.
“The last of the beans are inside the back door, mom,” Amanda calle
d. “Where are the car keys?"
“They're still in the car,” her mother answered. “Be back soon!"
Waving to Bonnie, Amanda backed the car out of the driveway and headed it for the mill. The man her father usually rode back and forth to work with was home with the flu. Rather than leave the rest of his family without transportation, her father decided to have one of them drive him to work in the morning and pick him up at night.
After Amanda had parked the car in front of the cotton mill, she glanced in the rearview mirror to be sure there weren't any smudges of dirt on her face from working in the garden. Spending five days a week in long dress, it was nice on Monday and Tuesday, the days Oak Run was closed to tourists, to run around in shorts and knit tops, especially in this hot June weather. She slipped the car keys into the small pocket of her shorts and walked gaily to the door marked Private. One hand rapped lightly while the other turned the knob and opened the door.
“Hi, dad. Are you ready to go?"
Three steps inside the office, Amanda came to an abrupt halt as she stared at Jarod Colby standing beside her father's desk. She knew her face had grown pale, although there was practically no reaction on his. Her father was sitting in his chair, his gaze taking in the stunned look of surprise on her face.
“Have a chair. I'll only be a couple of minutes,” he told her.
After one brief glance at her when she had walked in the door, Jarod had turned his attention to the paper spread in front of him on the desk. Since he had chosen not to greet her, Amanda ignored him, as well. Her legs numbly welcomed the support of the chair behind her.
For three weeks she had attempted to block out every humiliating memory of what had happened. It had just begun to take on the vague horror of a bad dream, and here she was in the same room with him, feeling her bones turning to water at the sight of his raven dark hair and eyes and the virile, masculine face. The cream tan suit he was wearing accentuated the leanness of his physique and she knew she would never be able to forget what that muscular hardness had felt like pressed against her own body.