She stamped her foot in sheer frustration. Why had she stood there on the steps like a fool debating, as if she’d had a choice? For the first time, she regretted her decision to stay in Florida, the loss of the protected, pampered life she’d so blithely renounced just a month ago. She must have been out of her mind.
Just then, a car pulled up to the curb, the window came down and a voice called to her. “Want a lift?”
Although she recognized Luke immediately, at that point she would have gone with Jack the Ripper, just to get out of that blasted rain. She yanked the door open and slid inside.
“Oh, Luke, you’re a lifesaver,” she said with feeling. “But I’m afraid I’m going to drip all over your car.”
“Not to worry,” he replied, pulling away from the curb. “It’s only a rental.” He glanced over at her and chuckled deep in his throat. “My, if you aren’t a sorry sight!”
She had to smile. “Oh, believe me, I’m well aware of that.” Her hair was dripping, her dark blue suit sopping, her feet squishing in her sodden shoes. “If it’s too horrible, just don’t look.”
He threw back his head and laughed out loud. “I’ve got to hand it to you, Jessica. You’re a damned good sport, when it comes right down to it. Most women would have been fretting about their appearance and apologizing abjectly for it by now.”
She shrugged. “What’s the point? I’m so glad to get out of that downpour, I couldn’t care less what I look like.”
As they drove along, she did her best to mop up the worst of the rain on her arms, face and hair with her handkerchief, but it was a hopeless task. She’d be home soon, thanks to Luke, out of her soggy clothes and into a hot tub.
“So,” he said, as he made the turn into her street. “How was your date with the good doctor?”
She gave him a swift sideways glance. “How did you know about that?”
“I was there. Remember?”
So he had kept track of her too that night, and must have seen Greg when he returned.
“Well?” he prompted. “How was it?”
“It was fine,” she said shortly.
“Good. He’s a nice guy. Good doctor, too, from what I hear.” He grinned. “More in your class, too, I’m sure.”
They had reached her building by now, and her heart began to thud in anticipation. Would he ask to see her again? If so, would she accept? Yes, she decided, and when he parked the car, the motor still running, she turned to him.
“Thanks so much for the ride, Luke,” she said with a smile. “You saved my life. Another few minutes out there, and I think I would have drowned.”
“My pleasure,” he said.
She paused for a moment, hoping he’d go on. “Well, I guess I’d better go in,” she said finally.
He nodded. “Better get out of those wet clothes, too.”
Still she hesitated, waiting, hoping, but when he continued to sit there in silence, just giving her that same bland pleasant look, she knew he wasn’t going to speak. Nor did she blame him. He wasn’t the man to beg. Rejected once, he’d never come back for more. He’d only given her the ride out of pity, common human decency.
“Um, Luke,” she said with a smile. “If you’re not busy tonight, perhaps you’d let me repay you by cooking dinner for you.”
Slowly his eyes flicked over her, his face a mask, not a trace on it of what he was feeling or thinking. While she sat there waiting for his response, her smile began to feel as though it were plastered on her face and she had to fight down a near-irresistible urge to fidget in her seat.
“No,” he said at last. “I don’t think so.”
Although she was startled by his flat refusal, she rallied quickly and gave him another bright smile.
“Why not?” she asked lightly. “You did invite me out to dinner once, after all.”
“And you turned me down,” he said, a hard edge to his voice.
“Well, now won’t you give me a chance to make it up to you and return the favor?”
He cocked one heavy dark eyebrow, gave her a thin smile and slowly shook his head. “Oh, I don’t think I want to get involved with a woman like you,” he drawled. “Too rich for my blood.”
Her smile faded. “Listen, if you’re going to start that nonsense about my lofty social background again...”
She stopped short when she heard him laughing, saw the tiny lines at the corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement. “I don’t see what’s so funny!” she stated angrily.
“God,” he said, still chuckling deep in his throat, “I love to get a rise out of you.” His eyes narrowed appreciatively. “You’re really something when you get mad and let some of that inner fire show. It proves that there’s a real woman under that cool exterior after all.”
“Probably not your kind,” she snapped.
“It also makes me wonder,” he went on, ignoring the comment, his voice pitched in a lower more intimate tone. “What you’d be like in more pleasant circumstances.”
She was about to retort hotly that there was no chance he would ever see her in those circumstances, when it suddenly dawned on her just how futile the whole conversation had become. She bit back the sharp comment, reached for the handle of the door and opened it.
“Good-night, Luke,” she said stiffly. “Thanks again for the lift.”
She jumped outside and made a dash through the pelting rain to the door of her building. It wasn’t until she’d opened it and stepped into the blessedly dry foyer that she realized he had followed her inside and was now hard on her heels as she made for her own apartment.
She turned around and glared at him. “Are you still here?”
He gave her a hurt look. “Well, you did invite me to dinner.”
“Yes, and you refused.”
“Well, I’ve changed my mind. However, if you want to back out now...” he added with a lift of his broad shoulders.
When they reached her door she unlocked it and stepped inside. “Oh, all right, you might as well come on in,” she said, and turned to see that he had followed close on her heels and was even now shutting the door behind him. “But then,” she added wryly, “you already are, I see.”
“So I am,” he commented, flashing her a wicked grin.
She heaved an exasperated sigh. “Well, right now I’m going to get out of these wet clothes, then I’ll see what I can find for dinner. Fix yourself a drink,” she added, pointing to the low sideboard. “Make yourself at home.”
Of course, he already had, and was now strolling around the tiny living room as though he owned the place, and it occurred to her as she headed toward the bedroom that Luke Fury was a man who would be quite at home in any surroundings.
As she showered and dressed she tried to keep her mind on what to give him for dinner, but she couldn’t ignore the disturbing sensations his presence in her apartment had aroused, a slight buzzing in her head, a hollow feeling at the pit of her stomach, a more rapid pulse than normal, a longing she couldn’t quite identify.
He was only a man, she told herself firmly as she dashed on a trace of pale lip gloss and smoothed down the skirt of her tailored cotton shirtwaister. He’d done her a few favors, and now she was going to cook dinner for him. That was all there was to it. No need to react like a bedazzled schoolgirl.
When she returned, he was settled comfortably on the couch, drink in hand, the evening newspaper spread out on the table before him, and she stopped in the doorway, watching him. She hadn’t realized how small the room was until now. He seemed to fill it with his presence.
Just then he raised his eyes to meet hers, and a slow smile spread across his tanned face. “All dry now?” he asked, rising to his feet.
“Yes.” She started toward the kitchen. “I’ll just see what I can find to eat.” She gave a nervous laugh. “I’m afraid it won’t be gourmet fare.”
As she passed by, he reached out a hand and rested it lightly on her bare arm. “There’s no hurry. Sit down and have a drink.”
; There was something about the look in his eye, lazy, slightly hooded, that worked on her already jangled nerves. What was there about this man that had the power to unsettle her so? Normally the most contained, unflappable of women, every time she was around him some inner wires in her head seemed to get crossed.
“Come on,” he urged, tightening his hold. “Relax. I’ll be leaving soon. We should get better acquainted before I go.”
She darted him a swift look. “Leaving?” She felt both dismay and relief. “Well, then, there’s not much point in getting better acquainted, is there?”
“Oh, I’ll be back. Come on. Sit down and talk to me.”
His hand slid slowly down her arm to grasp her by the hand, and reluctantly, she allowed him to lead her over to the couch. She sat down primly, the way she’d been taught, and folded her hands in her lap. He stood looking down at her, looming over her.
“Now, what’ll you have to drink?”
“A glass of sherry will be fine,” she said.
He nodded, and she sat there watching him as he poured it out. When he came back, glass in hand, he handed it to her, then sat down close beside her.
“Cheers,” he said, raising his drink.
He was sitting so close to her that she could feel the warmth of his body through her thin cotton dress. She really should move farther away, yet he was sure to comment if she did. No point in making an issue of it.
“So,” she said, setting down her glass. “You say you’ll be leaving soon?”
He nodded. “Afraid so.” He shifted his body around to face her, still touching her, and reached for her hand. “But I also said I’d be back, and I’d like to think you’ll be here when I do.”
She wasn’t at all sure she liked the way the conversation was tending, not to mention his blithe possession of her hand, which he was now turning around in his, examining the place on her finger where her wedding ring had left a white mark.
“And what about your lovely redhead?” she asked lightly.
He raised his eyebrows. “Sandra?” He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “She’s only a friend.”
She didn’t believe that for a moment. Hadn’t she seen them together with her own eyes? And the way they were acting certainly strained the limits of mere friendship. However, right now she had a more pressing problem to deal with.
His other arm had snaked around her waist by now. How he’d managed that without her realizing it escaped her, but it certainly implied long practice. She tried to edge away from him, but his hold only tightened.
“You know, Jessica,” he said in a low voice close to her ear. “You intrigue me. You’re not like any woman I’ve ever known.” He put a hand on her cheek, turning her head so that she was gazing directly into those deep green eyes, glittering now with what she could only assume was desire. “And I think you feel it too, the attraction, the lure of the unknown.”
She laughed nervously. “Isn’t that a little dramatic? I’m really quite ordinary.”
“Oh, no. Not ordinary at all,” he replied. The hand was cupping her chin now, one long finger tracing the curve of her mouth.
In spite of all her good intentions, her conviction that this man was only playing with her, an insidious irresistible warmth began to steal through her. Something about those emerald eyes, the feel of his rough hand on her skin, the very scent of him, fresh and totally masculine, the hard body pressed so closely against her, made all her good resolutions evaporate.
The next thing she knew, the dark head had come down and his mouth was pressing against hers. Her head began to whirl. A tiny voice told her she should break it off now, before it got out of hand, but it felt so wonderful she couldn’t make her body obey. Just the taste of him, a minty toothpaste, the Scotch he’d been drinking, went straight to her head, wiping out all her native caution.
His mouth was moving on hers now, drawing at her lips, and the hand under her chin moved downward to grasp the base of her throat. Suddenly, his mouth opened wider, and she could feel the pressure of his tongue, seeking entry. The only sound in the room was the heavy rasp of his breathing. Or was it hers?
Without thinking, her lips parted, and as his tongue darted inside, deepening the kiss, the hand on her throat slid farther down to settle on her breast. Even then, she couldn’t move. The sensations he was stirring in her were too powerful to resist.
Dimly she realized that his fingers were now fumbling at the top button of her dress. She still couldn’t move, but when the hand slid inside the loosened opening, and she felt his rough touch on her bare skin, she suddenly came to her senses.
She jerked her head up, breaking the kiss, and slid away from him, running a hand over her hair, redoing the button of her dress, looking away, unable to face him.
“What the hell?” he growled, reaching out for her again.
She eluded his grasp, jumped quickly to her feet and stood there glaring down at him. “No,” she said.
His brow was like thunder. “No!” he exclaimed. “What do you mean, no?” He rose to his feet, put his hands on his hips, and glared right back at her. “You can’t just disappear like that.”
“Oh?” she said in her loftiest lady of the manor tone. “And whose rule is that?”
“Listen, lady,” he said in a low menacing tone. “You invited me in here, remember? And you were with me all the way. Believe me, I can tell.”
“I’m sure you can,” she bit out. “Since you’re so adept at these games.”
For a few moments they stood there, eyes locked together in mortal combat. Then he gave an abrupt nod.
“So,” he said in a sneering tone. “You were just stringing me along. Teasing me until you had me eating out of your hand, then freezing up when it suited you. There’s a name for women like you, Jessica, and it’s not very nice.”
She crossed her arms in front of her and narrowed her eyes at him. “I made it clear to you from the day we met that I wasn’t interested in your games,” she retorted angrily. “What makes you think you have the right to make all the rules?”
He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. “Not interested?” he ground out between clenched teeth. “You’re lying, and you know damned well you are.”
Suddenly it occurred to her how ridiculous the whole thing had become. They were both behaving like children. And he did have a point. While not exactly leading him on, she hadn’t put up much resistance. The important thing now was to defuse the tense situation. After all, he was leaving soon. She’d probably never see him again. There was no point in parting enemies.
She forced out a smile. “Listen, Luke,” she said in her most reasonable tone. “There’s no reason for us to carry on this way. It was a misunderstanding. I’m sorry. It was probably my fault. You can be—how shall I put it—quite persuasive when you set your mind to it.”
To her relief, the anger in his face gradually drained away. He stared down at his feet for a moment, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, and when he looked up again he had even managed a quirky smile.
“You know, Jessica,” he said. “If I didn’t realize what a strong character you have, I’d say you were afraid of me.”
“And with good reason, I’m sure.”
He came a step closer, so that she could see each point of the faint dark stubble on his chin. “You have nothing to fear from me,” he said softly. “Perhaps you’re really afraid of yourself.”
That suggestion came too near the truth for comfort, and she turned away. In spite of her determination to resist his practiced charm, there was still a part of her that yearned to prove to him that there was a real woman underneath the finely-honed exterior.
And he was right, she had nothing to fear from him. It was her own wayward impulses that terrified her. She’d never experienced anything remotely like the feelings he aroused in her, half-anger, half-desire.
“Of course,” he was going on, “it could be you’re only attracted to tame men. Like the good doctor, for example
.”
Stung, she turned back to him. “And you mean, like Paul?” She laughed dryly. “I’d hardly call that tame.”
“Oh, Paul,” he said with a shrug. “He was just weak.”
“And you’ve cast yourself in the role of every woman’s dream, I take it.”
“Oh, not every woman,” he replied with another diabolical grin. “I’m rather choosy. Of course,” he went on, “I understand that my background might count against me with you. Even though I probably have the money you’re used to, the fact remains that my origins were pretty questionable.”
“Oh, stop it!” she cried, eyes blazing with rekindled anger. “I’m not interested in your money or your background. Can’t you get that through your head?”
There, he’d done it again, got a rise out of her just when she’d thought she was in command of the situation. She also suspected he was laughing at her again, delighted at the success of his deliberate provocation.
“Under the circumstances,” he said at last, “I think I’ll pass on dinner.” He started sauntering slowly toward the door, and when he reached it he turned around and gave her a long look, his lips still curled in that maddening smile. “And who knows, Jessica? Maybe our paths will cross again one day.”
After he’d left, she made herself a toasted cheese. sandwich and sat at the kitchen table picking at it, going over the unsettling scene with Luke again and again in her mind.
Had she behaved like an utter fool? If so, she couldn’t quite decide whether it was by turning him away or by responding to him in the first place. Right now she certainly didn’t need a man like Luke Fury in her life, not so soon after Paul’s death.
Paul! With his good looks, impeccable background and perfect manners he was charming on the surface, but so weak underneath. Another man who considered anything in skirts fair game for his seductive charms. But there the similarity ended. Luke was brash and brusque, even callous, on the outside, but inside there was genuine substance, a rigid code of honor peculiarly his own.
As she sat there brooding and chewing glumly on her cheese sandwich, she felt a sudden urge to talk to her mother. It had been a long time since they’d spoken, not since Paul’s death. A stiff, reserved woman whose life was dominated by the position she held as one of the leading lights of Boston society, they’d never been close.
Promise of Paradise Page 6