Men Made in America Mega-Bundle

by Gayle Wilson, Marie Ferrarella, Jennifer Greene, Annette Broadrick, Judith Arnold, Rita Herron, Anne Stuart, Diana Palmer, Elizabeth Bevarly, Patricia Rosemoor, Emilie Richards

  She felt beaten. By the time she reached her room she was almost running, and she stopped only long enough to throw her clothes off before she went into the bathroom and stepped into the shower. A bitterly cold shower. Her head hurt, no doubt because of the sun and the even hotter tension.

  Thank God the scene was over. Surely there would be nothing wrong with the film. They had working with them an award-winning cameraman who knew his business.

  When she stepped out of the shower, Lisa was numb. Listlessly drying herself, she slowly reentered her room—and found Drew stretched out on the bed, waiting for her.

  She wondered when he’d had time to shower, but it was obvious from his damp hair that he had. If it had been a cold shower it hadn’t worked for him either, because his naked body proudly proclaimed his aroused condition.

  Lisa stood at the end of the bed, staring at him. Now she had the opportunity to appreciate his well-toned body and the way the light golden hair made swirling designs on his abdomen and legs. When her gaze finally met his, she knew she wasn’t going to struggle anymore against their love for each other.

  She sat down at the edge of the bed, only inches away from him. How many nights had she hungered for him? How many nights had she relived the loving memories? Now she had a chance to reenact some of them.

  Slowly she leaned over and kissed him on his thigh, and she felt the shock of her kiss run through him. Then Lisa began to love him with all the experience she’d gained in his bed—which was considerable—and she knew by the groan he uttered that her skills had not been forgotten.

  But then he grabbed her, pulling her on top of him so that her luscious, well-rounded breasts rested near his lips, and he began to sip her sweetness, to savor her taste and the soft scent of her, to revel in the joy of possessing her again.

  It had been a long time—for both of them—and their impatience overcame their need to savor and enjoy. Drew rolled over, tucking Lisa beneath him and in one smooth surge possessed her—completely, joyously, familiarly and with total love and commitment. She was his. How could she have ever thought differently?

  Drew and Lisa lost track of time that afternoon. They made love, and slept, called for room service and food, made love again and slept. But they didn’t talk about anything but how to give pleasure to the other. It was as though both of them refused to think past the moment, but were determined to enjoy what they had, what each of them had considered lost, and hoped it would be enough.

  Drew seemed insatiable. His hands continually stroked and loved her, exploring each and every part of her, taking enjoyment from her obvious pleasure in what he was doing to her.

  Lisa reciprocated. When Drew seemed too weak to ever move again she would take over, starting at his feet, kissing and nibbling, lightly brushing him with her eyelashes until he was once again reaching for her, his body surging toward her in a need for completion.

  They fell into exhausted sleep sometime during the early hours of the morning, wrapped in each other’s arms.

  The rude jangling of the phone finally roused them. Since it was closest to Drew, he reached for it. Dragging it to his ear, he growled, “Donovan.”

  Tom laughed. “Ah, so there you are. I’d given up trying to find you and decided to see if Lisa knew where you might be.”

  “Whaddaya want, Tom,” Drew grumbled, still half asleep.

  “I’d like to continue with the movie we’re making, old buddy. However, you should have been with makeup over an hour ago, which is putting a slight crimp in the shooting schedule.”

  Drew tried to sit up, but Lisa was still curled contentedly on his right arm and shoulder. “What time is it?”

  “Eight o’clock.”

  “Damn.”

  “Yes, that did come to mind, although I had several other more useful expressions.”

  “I’m sorry, Tom. I forgot to set an alarm.”

  “The question is—how soon can you be ready?”

  Drew wondered if his legs would even support him to walk across the room. How the hell was he expected to work today?

  “Give me twenty minutes.”

  “I’ll even give you thirty. Try to get something to eat. You’ll be out on horseback during most of today’s shooting.”

  Drew dropped the phone back in its cradle and slid his arm out from under Lisa’s head. No sense in disturbing her. They would be using her double for most of the shots today, later dubbing in close-ups of her on the horse.

  He distantly noted that his knees were weak and wondered if he and Lisa had tried to break some kind of record yesterday—and last night and this morning. He ran his hand through his already disheveled hair.

  Whatever the cost, it had been worth it. While he showered Drew faced the fact that Lisa could not have responded to him the way she had if she didn’t still love him. He knew her too well. Her love and her loyalty were too much a part of her. He felt sure that there was no other man in her life.

  And if there were no other man in her life then Drew was damned well going to stay in her life—the closer the better. And he’d found an effective way of convincing her.

  Ten minutes later Drew was having breakfast in the coffee shop, doing his best to ignore Tom’s pithy comments regarding Drew’s appetite. Drew’s mind was still on Lisa, wondering if the past twenty-four hours had changed her mind about their relationship.

  Lisa slowly drifted upward through the swirling veils of sleep, her body relaxed, her mind at ease. She felt reborn, rejuvenated and very well loved. Her dreams had been full of fantasies about Drew.

  Drew! Lisa sat up, staring around her room with startled awareness. Bright sunlight peered past the gauzy curtains covering the windows, and she glanced at her watch with dismay. It was almost noon. Slowly she lay back down, her thoughts returning to the day before.

  Their actions had been inevitable. She felt that she and Drew had merely continued the script especially written for them. Loving someone meant expressing that love. It had been agony for both of them to try to deny what they felt for each other.

  But would Drew see her response to him as a negation of all that she had said? Possibly. And with good reason. How could she expect him to understand that she could make love to him with such fervor and abandon and continue to insist on the divorce.

  For the first time Lisa faced the fact that she was going to have to tell Drew the truth. She would have to let the decision be his. That way there was a slim possibility he might choose her despite the fact they could not have a family together.

  Lisa was tired of fighting both of them.

  With that decision came an inner peace she had tried to gain for months. Eager to be with Drew again, she threw the covers back and bounded from bed. Sore muscles protested and she laughed, a carefree, joyous laugh. Sore muscles or not, she couldn’t complain about anything this morning.

  Drew was hot and tired. They had been working nonstop since nine o’clock that morning, pausing only for a quick sandwich and thirst-quenching water. Most of what they were getting today were action shots, but there were enough close-ups to ensure he was in most of them.

  He could blame the searing rays of the sun for the heat, but he had only himself to blame for being tired. He hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. A small smile hovered around his mouth at the thought. He hoped Lisa had fared better than he had.

  Reining his horse back to the place where the action would begin, Drew stood up in the stirrups, trying to stretch his cramped muscles. He was supposed to be chased by the hired hands of Conchita’s father in this scene, the camera catching the action as they swept by. If they could get this scene out of the way, they could go back to the hacienda. He was more than ready.

  Drew noticed Tom talking to someone, and at first he thought it was Lisa’s stand-in until he realized whoever was talking to Tom wasn’t in costume. It must be Lisa. He could feel the adrenaline shoot through him. What was she doing out there today?

  Tom waved a small red flag, his
signal that they were ready to shoot, and Drew forced himself to concentrate. He began the long descent down the narrow trail, glancing over his shoulder and forcing his mount to move rapidly. He heard the noise of the horses much closer than he’d anticipated and with another quick glance behind him to locate them, he leaned over his horse and urged it forward.

  Drew enjoyed these scenes. He enjoyed a sense of being a part of the adventure, although Tom had suggested they use a double until the group came closer. The hot wind dried the perspiration clinging to him, and Drew felt the exhilaration of the chase. The camera was trained on him and as he swung past, the camera moved with him.

  Lisa hadn’t been able to resist coming out to see Drew. She loved to watch him ride. He rode as though he had been raised on horseback. It was as if he and the horse were able to communicate, each knowing what to expect from the other. The sunlight glinted from Drew’s tawny hair and Lisa felt the familiar tingle of wanting to run her fingers through that thick mane of his, smoothing it, then mussing it again for the pleasure of smoothing it once more.

  “Cut!” Tom yelled, knowing that Drew might not hear him. The extras on horseback slowed down, all laughing and talking, and Tom turned around and grinned at Lisa. “That was just what I was looking for.” He stared at the petite star standing beside him, arrested by the glow that emanated from her. Never had she looked more beautiful.

  Drew walked up, leading his horse. His face was flushed and his eyes sparkled. “So what do you think, Tom?”

  “I’m pleased. Let’s call it a day.”

  Since it was almost five o’clock they were all ready to drop. Drew walked over and got something to drink from an ice chest sitting nearby. “Want one?” he held it up to Lisa, his first acknowledgment that she was there.

  She smiled. “Sure.”

  Tom had joined the camera crew, leaving the two of them alone.

  For a moment Drew and Lisa looked at each other, unsure of what to say, afraid to say the wrong thing, afraid to make assumptions.

  Drew handed her the canned soda after he opened it. “I love you, Lisa,” he murmured huskily.

  Her eyes sparkled as she stared up at him. “I love you too, Drew,” she admitted.

  He seemed to relax some as he studied her, his drink forgotten in his hand. “Did you sleep all right?” he finally asked.

  She laughed. “I slept fine. How about you?”

  “The little chance I got, I managed, but I’m feeling the lack of sleep now. Guess I’m too old for such goin’s-on,” he drawled with a slight grin.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Your age didn’t seem to slow you down last night.” She glanced at him from under her lashes.

  His arm went around her shoulders, and he pulled her close to his side while he took a large swallow of his drink. “Is that a testimonial?”

  “If you feel the need of one.”

  “Not really. You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted to please.”

  “Well, cabellero—” she poked him lightly in the stomach with her finger “—you certainly managed to do that.” She glanced around at the activity of the others. “Let’s get a ride back to the hacienda.”

  The wrangler had long since come for Drew’s horse and was busy herding the group back toward the stables. Drew kept his arm around Lisa, liking the feel of her against him, needing the closeness. As tired as he was, he could feel his body reacting to her. She had always had that effect on him.

  They walked down the hallway in silence, and Drew paused in front of her door.

  “Lisa?”

  The warmth of his body had kept her aware of him and now he was pulling away from her, leaving her alone. She glanced up at him. “Yes?”

  “I don’t want to lose any more of our time together down here. Will you let me move in with you?”

  How could she say no when that was what she most wanted. But was it fair to either one of them? “I think we need to talk first.”

  “Dammit, Lisa, that’s all we’ve done and it’s gotten us nowhere. Last night proved we can still communicate. Can’t we just leave it at that?”

  “I wish it were that simple.” She could see the strain on his face. He looked so tired. What difference could it possibly make to the ultimate outcome of their relationship? And in the meantime, they could enjoy today. She opened the door to her room. “Do you want to shower here or down the hall?”

  He could feel the thumping if his heart in his chest. Was that a yes or a no? It hadn’t sounded like a no. He followed her into the room and closed the door. “I’m all for saving water. I’ll shower with you…and I’ll move my clothes after dinner,” he added deliberately.

  She stretched up on tiptoe and kissed his chin. “You do that,” she said, and turned away from him, stripping her clothes from her body.

  Drew forgot the heat, his tiredness and his lack of sleep. He methodically disrobed, his gaze never leaving her. She was going to have a hell of a fight on her hands if she tried to get rid of him again.

  Dinner that night was relaxed and boisterous. Everyone was enjoying the stay and already lamenting the fact they only had another week on location before the return to the studios for the final indoor shots to be made on the set.

  Drew and Lisa were quiet. They were waiting patiently for dinner to be over so that they could disappear once again into their room. Lisa had promised Drew a back rub, something she did very well, and he was looking forward to it.

  Already they had fallen into the familiar routine of working together and Lisa recognized the dangers of their easy resumption of past roles. They were so comfortable with each other that it was easy to forget the very real problems. However, she had made up her mind that tonight she would tell Drew the truth. She could no longer carry the burden alone, particularly since they were once again together.

  Drew noticed the tension in Lisa but couldn’t understand it. They had gotten ready for bed, she had massaged his back and he was surprised that even through that intimate occupation she seemed to become more distant, rather than less. Consequently, he was no more relaxed than he’d been before.

  “What’s bothering you, Lisa?”

  She had wandered to the window and stood looking out over the moonlit landscape, trying to find the necessary words. Neither one of them had spoken for so long that Drew’s voice sounded strident in the quiet room.

  Lisa slowly turned away from the tranquil night and faced Drew. “I need to tell you why I’m divorcing you, Drew, and I’m having trouble finding the words.”

  He absently noted that she spoke in the present tense. She was divorcing him—not, she had filed, or had been planning. Had he been living in some sort of fantasy world since yesterday? Was it possible he’d imagined her response to him?

  Lisa caught the wary expression on his face. How many times had she hurt him by not facing him with the truth? Why had she thought a confrontation would be tougher than the innuendos, the half-truths, the outright lies that had littered their discussions like crumpled pages from an otherwise neat and tidy book.

  No more. With stern resolution Lisa walked over to the only chair in the room and sat down. Still watching her warily, Drew stretched out on the bed, his arms behind his head, propped against the headboard.

  “I never told you about the tests the doctors ran after we lost our baby, Drew.” She picked up the tasseled end of her robe sash and restlessly flicked it over her crossed knee. “After I got the results of the tests I had some idea of trying to protect you from what I’d discovered, but it isn’t going to work.” Her large black eyes suddenly flickered up and her gaze met his. “I can’t pretend that I left you because I didn’t love you or didn’t want to be married to you any longer. Our stay down here has convinced me of that.”

  “What sort of tests, Lisa?” Drew asked quietly.

  “To find out why the baby was stillborn. To see if there was anything that could prevent something like that happening again.” She shifted uneasily in her chair. “There isn’t. I
found out that there’s something in my genetic makeup that will mean almost certain death to any child I attempt to bear.”

  Lisa could no longer sit there. She bounded to her feet and strode across the room, to the end of the bed. “What I found out, Drew, was that I can’t have children. The doctor said the odds were enormous against having a normal child—one with even a chance at life.” She stopped pacing and stood at the end of the bed, staring at him. “I can’t give you the family you want, Drew. So I’m divorcing you. There is no reason why you can’t have that family with someone else.”

  Drew listened carefully to every word that Lisa uttered, amazed at her calmness and dispassion. Had she been rehearsing a part, he would have stopped her and insisted she do it again with more feeling. She had delivered her lines as though she had overrehearsed, and they came out stilted and lifeless. And yet the meaning of her words had gone through him like a deadly stiletto.

  Lisa waited for his reaction, any reaction, but he continued to stare at her as though she’d been speaking in a foreign language. She turned away from him, wondering if she were losing her mind. How many times had she tried to picture his reaction? For some reason, she’d expected the words to create an explosion of emotion from him, either of denial or disbelief, or a possible disclaimer of the need for her to leave.

  It was as though Lisa were suddenly an onlooker and she saw them frozen in a tableau, each of them waiting for a gesture or a word from the other to break the tension that surrounded them.

  Drew slowly pulled his arms down from behind his head and sat up, each movement precise and deliberate. “How long have you known?” he finally asked in a quiet voice.

  “Since my six weeks’ checkup.”

  “And you didn’t feel that I had the right to the same information? You decided you had the right to make a decision that affects both our lives without allowing me the dignity of taking part in that decision?”

  She stood before him, tiny but regal, like a queen before her inquisitioners, her dignity cloaking her like a royal robe. “I was afraid you’d choose to stay with me and later resent the sacrifice.”