She laughed lightly. "Boy, are you laying it on."
He scoffed, then nodded past her. "Look."
She turned and faced the crowd, and Lane's first thought was, I shouldn't have come back full blast. She should have eased into this, let people get used to seeing the dowdy Miss Douglas changing bit by bit before they met Elaina Honora Giovanni. Earlier this evening she'd sifted through her closet, the need to keep a low profile, gown-wise, warring with the strong desire to shed her self-imposed restrictions and be who she really was. This evening meant a lot to her, and it meant more to Tyler. These were his friends and colleagues, people from his town, and she wouldn't dare arrive in anything but her very best. Yet now, people were staring, and she felt as if she'd just opened Pandora's Box. All she'd worked for could turn to dust.
"Oh, no."
"Oh, yes. Come on, there's Kyle. Poor guy, he's dateless."
The minute they reached their table, people swarmed them. And before some other man could take her from him, Tyler pulled her out onto the dance floor.
"Oh, Tyler, I'm sorry."
"Why? Don't you think I like being with the most attractive, sought-after woman at the ball?"
"But I know you do a lot of business here."
"Not tonight."
"Well, you'd think I'd done some transformation like the frog prince or something." She still didn't like the attention.
"Lane, honey, the gown alone is a transformation."
Okay, maybe the gown was a bit over the top. She'd chosen it because it hadn't been seen by the public, had never made it to the showing because the stories Dan Jacobs had printed had generated paparazzi and cruel jokes. And destroyed her reputation and career. But covering her now was her best work, nearly sheer, dark-green silk dripping with beads. It gave the fabric weight and folds where it dipped low enough in the front to offer an enticing glimpse of cleavage. The sleeves were velvet, beaded and clinging to her arms past her wrists, giving the gown a period flare, but it was the dangerously bare back, revealing the curve of her spine, and the sweeping fishtail hem that set the gown apart. Almost femme fatale in its mystery. Though the body-hugging fit didn't hide much.
"Ignore the stares," he whispered, seeing her discomfort and wanting to ease it. "I must say, though, I never thought I'd know a woman who didn't want the attention of a few dozen men."
"I want the attention of one man, and right now, I have it. Call me lucky."
Me, too, he thought, sweeping her across the dance floor. She moved with regal grace and elegance, and he forgot about the people staring, the whispers of his past, their surprise at the new Lane Douglas. Possession and something he wasn't ready to name rose in him, and he pulled her closer. Like a kid allowed up late on Christmas Eve, he didn't want this night to end.
Neither did Lane, and after a few minutes, she forgot about everyone else there. She saw only Tyler, recognizing why she loved him so much and how easily she could lose it. The risks were high, but it was unfair to keep secrets from him any longer. She'd tell him tonight and take her chances. The biggest one in her life.
As the evening wore on, it almost hurt to look at him. Tyler surprised her by rarely leaving her side, and if she didn't know better, she'd swear he was staking his claim. Good. Because she was, too, and when she danced with anyone else, her gaze always sought him. The press were let in at nine and Lane avoided the cameras, and Nalla, bless her, kept stepping in front of a shot for her. She was wearing one of Lane's designs again, and in a midnight-blue, velvet-and-silk affair dusted with crystals, she looked like an elfin queen.
Lane and Tyler shared one last dance before the evening drew to a close, both wanting to be away in private. They slid into the limousine, and Lane leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. "Thank you," he whispered. "I'd never had a good time at those society functions till tonight."
"I liked it. It kind of gears you up for Christmas." Her hand smoothed his shirtfront. He looked smashing in the tuxedo, as if he was born to it, and the desire she'd capped all night blossomed. She slid her hand to his thigh, teasing him, moving slowly upward and molding him. He hardened beneath the black fabric and bent his head to kiss her, the contact moist and heated.
Her hands grew bolder, demanding, and his slid inside her cloak, shaping her spine and dipping under the beaded silk.
He blinked. "You're naked beneath that dress."
She smiled. "Panties ruin the line."
He groaned. "If I'd known that, we'd have left hours ago."
"It wouldn't have been proper."
"Yeah, but me walking around with this—" he pushed her hand against his arousal "—wouldn't have been, either."
She laughed softly and when the driver pulled to a stop at his house, they were out of the car and racing up the walk like children. Tyler kissed her and kissed her, fumbling with the keys, yet refusing to let her go. She took them, opened the door and yanked him inside. In seconds he had her against the wall, cloak fallen to the floor, his jacket joining it and they battled for tastes of each other as Lane loosened his tie, then plucked at the shirt studs. They pinged to the floor and he buried his face in her breasts.
"I want you," he muttered.
"Take me." She sank her fingers into his hair, her body trembling with want.
"I don't think I'm gonna—"
"Don't think, Tyler. I'm not. I'm only feeling and I want you now." She pushed him back and reached behind her neck, pulling the single transparent string that kept the dress on. She wiggled and the gown slithered down her body to pool at her ankles. She stood in his foyer, naked except for stockings and heels.
Tyler didn't think he'd ever seen anything sexier, but then she picked up the dress and, proud as you please, mounted the stairs to the second floor, the gown snaking over the steps behind her. On the landing, she twisted and looked back.
"Are you coming?"
He swallowed. "Woman, you have a wild side I'm just discovering."
He raced up the staircase, taking them two at a time, and found her in his bedroom, lounging in a chair. She looked like a centerfold, and he walked across the room, stripping off his shirt.
She couldn't wait and pulled him down. Tyler fell to his knees, his hips spreading her thighs as he ravished her mouth, his hands combing her breasts, kneading the firm mounds. He broke the kiss to wrap his lips around a hardened pink nipple. He suckled hard and she gasped, holding him there. Fire pulsed through her, spreading under her skin. No other man, she thought, no other made her feel this cherished.
She tipped her head back, offering herself, telling him how good he made her feel. Need clawed. Heat and passion raced to join and dance, and Lane twisted in the chair, panting, her hands scraping over his chest, his shoulders, then seeking the belt of his trousers. She needed to feel his skin, his strength.
The simple touch, a flutter of her fingertips over his arousal, inflamed him. But Tyler wanted to taste and savor, wanted to watch her break apart with the pleasure he gave her, and he pushed her back into the chair, kissing her taut belly, dragging his tongue over the bend of her naked hip. Like a wild stag he scented her, nipping her soft flesh, then hooked one of her knees over the arm of the chair. She met his gaze, searing him with a sultry look before he lifted the other leg, spreading her. Then he touched her and she arched off the chair, her breath hissing. She met his gaze again as he pushed two fingers inside her.
"Oh, Tyler."
He thrust and withdrew. "I want to hear you scream."
"I want you inside me. Now." She reached for him, gasping for her next breath, her nerves careening with pleasure. But he shook his head, a devilish smile on his lips as he scooped his hands under her buttocks. Lane was helpless as he lifted her to his mouth and covered her. She shrieked as he drove his tongue into her soft folds. She flexed wildly and he held her tighter, pushing her legs onto his shoulders. He was unrelenting as he sent her to the peak like a rocket to the sky. She
pushed and squirmed against him, and her muscles quivered, but he spread her wider still, his tongue circling the bead of her sex.
She fractured, calling his name, and he pushed two fingers inside her. She begged him to join her now, to share this with her. Tyler lowered her to the chair, opened his trousers, and pushed into her.
Her climax trapped him. Squeezing hard. He withdrew and plunged deeply. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he pulled her from the chair onto the floor, mashing her to him, pushing, pushing.
They were primal, savage in their need for each other. Heat and passion boiled to heights neither had expected. Tyler laid her on her back, shoving into her, and she answered, her strong legs slamming him back to her.
Gazes locked, bodies pumping wildly, the power of it pushing them across the floor. Her breath caught with his, and he watched ecstasy erupt in her eyes, felt it rip through her body and spill into him. She took him with her, and rapturous sensations tore through him, leaving only pleasure behind.
"Oh, my love," she moaned, and Tyler felt his heart break open. She had tears in her eyes, her fingers dribbling over his face, pushing into his hair before she kissed him hungrily. "I love you, Tyler," she said, sobbing a little. His gaze raked her beautiful face. "I didn't want to, but I do."
He looked down at her, scraping her hair back off her face. "Lane, darlin', I…" Tyler wasn't sure what he was about to say, for the words locked in his throat. Couched in old fears.
She only smiled a little sadly, hushing anything he was about to say and not mean, and holding him tightly. Tyler squeezed her, locking her more tightly to him, and Lane wondered if she'd ever have a man return her love and mean it. She told herself to be satisfied with this time with Tyler. That one word, one call could ruin everything for her, and she feared that time was running out.
After a few moments, he stood and carried her to his bed, laying her in the center. He stepped back, holding her gaze, a strange wariness in his eyes as he stripped, then climbed into bed beside her. She didn't hesitate and opened her arms to him. They sank into an erotic world of love and passion, sharing each other through the night and blocking out the world.
* * *
Lane stirred in his bed, reaching for him and finding the space beside her empty. "Tyler?"
"I'm in here," he called from the bathroom.
Lane curled on her side, pulling his pillow close and burying her face in his scent. Her heart ached and she wondered at the wisdom of telling him she loved him when he didn't love her back. Ribbons of doubt fluttered through her. She knew he cared deeply for her, but he'd made no promises, no declarations, and so she needed to be satisfied with the moments they had now. Still, her heart ached for more with him, for a life and future. And she knew she had to tell him the truth. Now. Her heart started pounding and she slipped from the bed, looking for something to cover herself with and spying his robe on the chair. Clothing was a necessary barrier when talking to Tyler, she thought. And no touching. He made it impossible for her to keep a thought in her head when he touched her.
The phone rang and she was about to reach for it, then hesitated.
"Let the machine pick it up," he said from the bath. "I don't want to ruin your reputation."
She smiled and slipped on the too-big robe as the message played. Then a voice came on.
"Buon giorno, Elaina."
Lane paled, her heart dropping to her stomach. Dan Jacobs. She snatched up the phone. "You have the wrong number." How did he find her here, she wondered, looking toward the window and imagining him calling from nearby on a cell phone.
"Not a chance. I'd recognize that voice anywhere."
"You're mistaken."
"Oh, yeah? Well, I've got pictures to prove I'm right."
"What!" Pictures? When? Where?
"I didn't know you could dance so well, Elaina, and the race, that was something. It was on the Associated Press because it was a fluff piece, small-town record broken. It'll hit the networks if I let it."
"No. Oh, God, Dan, don't do this."
"You owe me a story." His voice was mean and dark.
"You've already written enough. There is nothing more to tell." Lane glanced around, hearing the shower running. Her heart was pounding so fast she thought she'd faint. "I don't owe you anything!"
"If you don't talk to me, these pictures will be leaked in an hour. You look cute in navy blue."
The race, she thought, and tried not to cry. "Don't, please don't. I'm begging you. Don't destroy my life again."
For a second, Dan was quiet on the other end of the line. "He doesn't know who you are, does he?"
Lane slammed the phone down, then erased Dan's voice from the machine. Hot tears burned her eyes. Too late. It was too late. She'd lose everything. Falling in love with Tyler was going to come with a high price. She didn't give a damn about the press anymore, only what it would do to Tyler and his family. The smear, the implications. He'd be as ruined as she had been. Dan Jacobs could hound her, but not Tyler.
Oh, God, she loved him so much, and it was shattering before they had a chance. She looked toward the bathroom, then searched for her clothing. She had to stop Dan Jacobs. She didn't know how, but she couldn't let this hurt Tyler. Oh, Lord, she couldn't. Not now.
Tyler came out of the bathroom, belting a terry-cloth robe in time to see Lane grab up her gown. "Lane, baby, where are you going?"
"I have to leave."
Tyler frowned. "Wait a second."
"No, I have to leave now." She couldn't look at him.
Tyler crossed to her, grabbing her arms. "You're crying. My God, tell me what's wrong."
"I can't, I can't." She was sobbing openly now and knew she was in a corner.
Tyler pulled her into his arms, and she let out a long, shaky breath, wilting against him. "Who was on the phone?" he asked.
Say it, a voice demanded. Say it now. "Dan Jacobs. A reporter."
"What did he say to you?"
"Nothing I haven't been dreading for the past two years."
Tyler's frown deepened. "Tell me, baby."
Lane pushed out of his arms and wrapped his robe more tightly around herself. She stared at him, feeling as if the floor was opening and she was about to tumble into darkness. But she had to tell him, and she met his gaze. "Dan was the man who betrayed me. A reporter, only he didn't tell me that. He claimed he was a photographer, even had a portfolio." She made a bitter sound, feeling more foolish than she had the day she learned who Dan really was. "He dated me, seduced me and said he loved me – just to get a story."
"On what? Selling books?"
She lifted her chin a bit and stared at the man she loved and would lose. "On me. My name is not Lane Douglas."
Tyler felt his blood drain from his face. His chest tightened painfully.
"Douglas was my grandmother's name, and Lane is short for … for Elaina."
His fingers closed into fists at his sides. "Elaina who?" he asked carefully.
"Giovanni."
His gaze moved over her body in his robe, then her face, her long sleep-tumbled hair. Everything slipped into place and the picture became painfully clear. Her near reclusiveness, avoiding talking about herself. The way she'd looked in that gown. Like a starlet. The familiarity he'd felt a couple of times last night. He'd seen her in the papers, on TV. And now some guy wanted an interview? "Giovanni, as in the largest winery in the world? Those Giovannis?"
"Yes."
Good God. "You lied to me." His voice was dead when he said it. She'd let him love her and deceived him.
"I was protecting myself."
"From what?"
She flinched at his angry tone. "That jerk destroyed my life, I was a designer—"
"I know exactly who and what you were," he interrupted, leveling her a look she never wanted to see. "I know all about the family, the mob connections—"
"There aren't any! No one will believe me."
He scoffed, too hurt to think about that. "I don't g
ive a damn about a reporter or your family, Elaina. You lied to me. After all we've shared, you still lied. You should have been an actress, because I fell for your act like a fool."
"Tyler, no!"
He stepped right over her words. "When I was making love to you, you didn't think you should tell me who you really were?"
She winced, the hurt in his voice slicing through her heart, and for a second stopped its beating. "I couldn't then, because it was too late, I'd let it go too far."
"Why couldn't you trust me with the truth?"
"I'm telling you now and look how you're reacting!"
He glared at her, disgusted, all the feelings that Clarice had left behind rising to the surface. "You aren't even the woman I knew."
Her posture stiffened. "Yes, I am. I might not have been paying attention to my appearance, but I'm the same person." The woman who loves you. "I didn't tell anyone because I've tried for two years to forget. You don't know what it's like to have your face printed in the morning paper, your most intimate thoughts shared with the world. I couldn't even buy groceries without someone following me and snapping a picture. That's what Dan Jacobs did. He took my love and used it for a lead story!"
A small wave of sympathy moved through him, but Tyler could only feel his heart folding in on itself. And in that one moment, while he was bleeding inside, he realized he loved her. Truly loved her. Which only made him hurt more.
"Damn you, Lane. I could have helped you. I would have protected you!"
"It would have ruined your reputation. Maybe even your company. The press is still screaming mafia connections, Dan is still hounding my whole family. I couldn't bring you into this. I tried to stay away from you, you know that," she defended. "I didn't want this to backfire on you."
"I can take care of myself."
"Yeah, well, I thought I could take care of myself, too. Within a couple of weeks, my career turned into a joke, I lost a major department store deal and lost my company. My life became a fishbowl." She reached for her clothing, wondering how she was going to get home in an evening gown without bringing attention to herself. Then she didn't care.
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