‘Lee, for God’s sake.’ Her voice lost all its anger. ‘Please—you’ll hurt yourself. You’ll tear the ligament again or—’
‘I know what I’m doing,’ he panted. ‘We read all those books together, remember? No pain, no gain. And I’m not new to this anyway. I’ve had injuries before.’
She stared at his leg, at the vivid red scar that slashed across the kneecap.
‘But not like this,’ she said softly.
Lee looked at her. ‘No,’ he said after a pause, ‘not like this. But I’ve come back each time, and I’m damned well going to again.’
And then he grunted and raised his leg again. ‘One. Two. Three…’
Danielle watched for a few seconds, then turned and went into the cottage. His dedication was hard to fault. And, even though it sometimes looked as if he was going to hurt himself, he seemed to know what he was doing. He’d made incredible progress the past few weeks: his body, bronzed from the sun, was powerful and healthy.
The truth was, it wasn’t really his body she was concerned about. It was his spirit.
Lee was determined to recover fully, to return to the life he loved. What if he couldn’t? What if Bonet had been right, and his racing days were behind him? Would he be strong enough to accept that? Or would he plunge into a despair worse than the one he’d already suffered?
One lazy afternoon, they drove into the hills with a picnic lunch. Danielle waited until Lee was relaxed, lying back on the grass and gazing up at the clouds drifting slowly overhead, and then she cleared her throat.
‘Lee? Have you—have you thought about—about what you’ll do when the cast comes off?’
He looked at her. ‘Bathe my damned leg,’ he said drily. ‘Do you know what it’s like not to—’
She smiled unsteadily. ‘That’s not really what I meant.’
He turned away and stared at the sky again. ‘I know what you meant, Danielle.’ Slowly, carefully, he rolled to his side, then fought his way upright. ‘And I think you know the answer,’ he said, grasping his crutches. ‘I’m going to race again. My cast comes off in two days. There’ll be enough time between then and the Italian Grand Prix so I can join my team and get ready.’
Danielle rose and walked alongside him towards the car. ‘Are you—are you sure?’
Lee stopped and swung towards her. ‘Sure of what?’ His voice was dangerously soft. ‘Sure I can make the Grand Prix in time, or that I can race at all?’
‘Lee, please understand. I’m not trying to dampen things. It’s just that I—’
‘I told you before, walking away from racing is one thing. Crawling away is another. You of all people should understand that.’
‘I don’t, though. Is it—is it getting another job that worries you? You told me yourself how many people it takes to field a race car…’
He smiled at her. ‘I’m not worried about a job at all,’ he said gently. ‘Sure, I’d want something to do with the rest of my life. Hell, I’m not a man who can sit around and watch daisies grow. But I don’t need money. I’ve made a lot racing, more than I ever imagined.’
‘Then why…?’
Lee’s smile vanished. ‘Weren’t you the one who talked about never quitting?’
‘You’re twisting my words, Lee. Admitting you can’t do something isn’t quitting, it’s—’
‘Let’s not debate it, Danielle. When a man starts a new life, he wants to start it on his own terms.’ His eyes darkened as they swept across her face. ‘Do you see?’
Danielle shook her head. ‘No, I don’t. What does it matter—?’
His mouth narrowed. ‘Nobody wants pity.’ His eyes met hers, and for a moment she thought she saw a fiery light burning deep within them. But then he swung away and hobbled quickly to the car. ‘It—it has to come because—because it’s right.’
‘Nobody would offer a man like you a job out of pity, Lee. You—’
For the first time in weeks, his temper snapped. ‘Dammit,’ he said, yanking open the car door, ‘just drop the subject, OK?’
He was silent the rest of the day. Danielle hoped his mood would improve the next morning. But he was edgy at breakfast. She watched through the French doors as he worked out on the terrace. It was the kind of late August day Provence was known for: the sky was a perfect blue, the sun a blazing gold disc. Heat shimmered in waves from the terrace floor.
The hour devoted to Lee’s weights came and went, and still he lifted and grunted. Danielle glanced at the clock. Fifteen minutes passed, then twenty. Finally, when she could see his skin beginning to pale beneath its bronze tan, when the athletic shirt he wore was a sodden mass of dark grey, she marched out of the cottage.
‘All right,’ she said quietly. ‘That’s enough.’
Lee didn’t look at her. His arms rose and fell in unbroken rhythm.
‘No-ho pa-hain,’ he gasped, ‘no-ho—’
‘No gain,’ she said, stepping in front of him. ‘Yes. That’s your story. Mine is that you’re going to collapse if you push yourself much further. It must be a hundred degrees out here. And—’
‘Go inside,’ he panted. ‘Go on. Just…’
She knew it would be pointless to try and snatch the weights from him. They were heavy and Lee was strong, a combination that would defeat her. Instead, she clasped his wrists in her hands.
His eyes narrowed. ‘What the hell…?’
‘Put down the weights,’ she said, staring at him.
‘Danielle, dammit—’
‘Put them down, Lee.’
He glared at her, and then he shook free of her hands. ‘All right,’ he said, dropping the weights on the table, ‘what’s this all about?’
‘Sanity, that’s what it’s all about.’ Ignoring his protests, Danielle unlocked the brake and pushed his wheelchair through the doors and into the kitchen. ‘Here,’ she said, pouring him a glass of fruit juice.
‘I don’t want it. And I don’t like being treated like a two-year-old.’
‘Then don’t behave like one.’ She held the glass out to him again. ‘Drink this before you collapse of heat exhaustion.’
Lee snatched the glass from her hand. ‘I’m not even close,’ he said angrily. ‘I’m still sweating. If you have heat exhaustion, you don’t—’
‘Damn you, Lee Bradford, drink that juice before I force it down your throat.’
They stared at each other, and then a quick smile tilted across his mouth.
‘You would, wouldn’t you?’ When she said nothing, he sighed. ‘What the hell. If it makes the lady happy…’
She watched as he drank the cold liquid in one long series of swallows. When he was done, he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and handed the glass back to her.
‘Now get out of that shirt and towel off,’ she said, tossing him a terry towel.
He yanked off his shirt and draped the towel over his shoulders. ‘Satisfied?’
‘No.’ Her voice was grim. ‘I want to know why you’re doing this.’
‘Doing what? Working out? I’ve been doing that every morning for the past—’
‘Don’t you dare patronise me,’ she said sharply. ‘You’re killing yourself out there. You didn’t say a word at breakfast, or at dinner last night.’ Her eyes searched his. ‘Lee,’ she said, her voice suddenly soft, ‘please—tell me what’s wrong?’
There was a silence, and then he reached past her and grabbed his crutches from where they rested against the wall. ‘Nothing,’ he said, grunting as he hoisted himself up, then hobbled past her into the cool corridor. ‘Does something have to be wrong for a man to—?’
‘Don’t do this,’ she said, hurrying after him. ‘I won’t let you.’
Lee moved past her into the living room and sank on to the sofa. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he said, setting his crutches aside.
‘I won’t let you shut me out again,’ she said. Her words were defiant, but her heart was hammering.
‘Really?’ His lips drew
back from his teeth. ‘And just what do you propose to do about it?’
Danielle drew a deep breath. ‘I—I’ll leave you here,’ she said. ‘I—I’ll go out that door and drive to Nice.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Is that right?’ he said in a soft, ominous voice.
She swallowed. ‘Yes. If—if you crawl back inside yourself, I—’
She jumped as he slammed his hand against the arm of the sofa. ‘That’s not what I’m doing, dammit.’
Danielle knelt down beside him. ‘Then what are you doing?’
He stared at her, his jaw clamped tightly shut. Then, when she had almost despaired of getting an answer, he puffed out his breath.
‘Getting ready,’ he said, his voice so soft she had to strain to hear it.
Danielle shook her head. ‘I don’t—’
‘For my visit to Bonet tomorrow.’ His eyes lifted to hers, and what she saw there made her heart stop. ‘The cast comes off tomorrow. Have you forgotten?’
Had she forgotten? She didn’t know whether she wanted to laugh or cry. How could she have forgotten? It was all she thought about, worrying each time she looked at him that he would expect too much of himself when Bonet cut away the plaster shield, that he would want to be too strong too quickly.
Suddenly, she understood. He was afraid. And the only way he knew to handle that fear was to push his body—and his mind.
Danielle put her hand on his. ‘Oh, Lee,’ she whispered. ‘Lee, it’s going to be all right. You’ll see.’
His hand caught hers tightly. ‘Will it?’ he said. ‘That’s what I keep telling myself. But—’
‘Yes.’ She leaned forward and put her other hand on his cheek. ‘Yes,’ she said again, turning his face to hers. ‘Of course it will. You’ve come so far, Lee. You’ve done wonders.’
His eyes met hers. ‘I spent all last night telling that to myself,’ he said softly. He gave her a faint smile. ‘By dawn, I had a pretty good argument going. “You’ll collapse like a house of cards when you try to stand on your own,” one part of me said, and the other snorted and said, hell, I’d be just fine.’
Danielle’s eyes searched his. ‘Why didn’t you wake me?’ she demanded. ‘I’d have made us some tea, we could have talked…’
Lee smiled. ‘I almost did. But…’
‘But?’
His smile changed. He caught her hand and brought it to his lips. ‘But—but what I needed—that kind of help—a man doesn’t ask for,’ he said, his breath warm and moist against her palm. He looked into her eyes. ‘Do you understand?’ he whispered.
She didn’t, not right away, and then her heart turned over. Yes, she thought, staring at him, yes, she understood. Lee was a man who had spent his life in a dangerous, virile sport—and now, as he saw it, he had been reduced to something less than a man. It was how he’d felt at the beginning, just after the accident. He’d got over that during the past weeks, but now, with the moment of truth at hand, the terrible fear that had almost immobilised him had come back.
He needed a final proof of his strength, one that he could never doubt. He needed the most basic proof of all, the one only a woman could offer. That was why he’d been awake, thinking of her. She could move him past the final hurdle. She could take him into her arms, kiss away the darkness she saw in his eyes.
She could give him back his sense of self, and his masculinity. But what would happen to her when it was over? Could she face finding him and losing him all at once?
Tears rose in her eyes and glistened on her lashes.
‘Danielle. I didn’t mean to make you cry. I shouldn’t have said anything.’
‘It’s not that,’ she whispered brokenly. ‘You—you don’t understand.’
‘I do.’ He touched his hand to her hair. ‘Forgive me, sweet. I shouldn’t have…’
She lifted her face to his. ‘There’s nothing to forgive.’
He stared at her while time stood still. Then he groaned softly and his arms went around her as she knelt before him.
‘Danielle,’ he said softly. He drew her to him, and she sighed as his lips brushed hers. ‘Come here,’ he whispered. ‘Just let me—let me hold you.’
Yes, she thought, just that. Surely there was no harm in offering him the comfort of her arms. She moved closer to him, her eyes closing as he lifted the hair from the nape of her neck and pressed his mouth to her skin. Her head fell back as he trailed soft kisses along the long column of her throat.
‘Danielle,’ he said, his voice thickening, ‘just let me—let me…’
She moaned as his hand cupped her breast. She could feel her nipple hardening beneath his touch, her flesh swelling under the warmth of his palm.
A sob caught in her throat and she put her hands against his naked chest. His heart thudded beneath her fingertips. He was so beautiful, she thought, looking at him from beneath her lashes. Desire had darkened his eyes until they were midnight pools, hardened his mouth so that she longed to soften it with her lips.
He had been hers this summer—they had laughed together, fought together, worked together—and the summer was ending too soon. He was going to go back to his own world. She knew it, suddenly, knew it without question. His legs were going to be strong. It was what he wanted, what she wanted, too.
He would regain himself. And when he did, he would leave her. She would have nothing for the rest of her life but bittersweet memories of a summer spent in the hot sun with a man she would never forget.
Something dark and fierce stirred deep within her heart. If memories were all she’d have of Lee, then she would make the most of them. She would take what she could and tuck them away against the long, lonely years.
Sighing, she slid her hands up his chest to his shoulders, then to his neck. His flesh was warm and firm, as she had known it would be. She whispered his name softly, her eyes on his, and suddenly he gathered her to him so tightly that he stole her breath away. She could feel his power flowing into her, infusing her with blazing heat.
Her mouth parted to the thrust of his tongue, and Lee groaned softly as he tasted her. He whispered her name against her lips, and then he drew back and looked deep into her eyes. His fingers went to the top button of her shirtwaister dress, as they had that night so many weeks before. But this time there was no stopping. The first button opened, then the next, and finally her dress slipped from her shoulders and fell away.
‘You’re so beautiful,’ Lee said thickly.
Danielle smiled. She felt beautiful at this moment. Lee’s caresses, his kisses, had done that. And she felt powerful, filled with a witchcraft as old as time. She would be passion and desire, she would be Eve in the Garden of Eden, but in giving herself to him she would not be his undoing, she would be his strength. She would come to him in love, as she had dreamed of doing—as she never would again.
She smiled again, a smile that made Lee’s breath catch in his throat.
‘You’re beautiful, too,’ she said softly. Slowly, she eased the towel from his shoulders. She watched the play of emotion on his face as she ran her hands over his naked chest. ‘I’ve dreamed of touching you,’ she whispered.
His skin was hot as the Provence sun. It felt like silk to her questing fingers, silk laid over the hard musculature of his body. Whorls of hair matted his chest, and she closed her eyes as she explored the rough texture.
Lee cupped her face in his hands. ‘Kiss me,’ he said, and she lifted her mouth willingly to his. ‘Yes,’ he murmured against her lips, ‘that’s the way. Open to me, darling. Let me taste you.’
She moaned softly, returning kiss for kiss with an abandon she had never imagined possible. But when he opened the front clasp of her bra, her arms rose instinctively to cover her breasts.
‘Don’t hide yourself from me, Danielle,’ he whispered. ‘I want to see you. I’ve dreamed about seeing you.’
He caught hold of her wrists and slowly lowered her arms to her sides. She watched him from under drooping lashes as he gazed at her. T
he hunger in his face raised a quick flutter low in her belly. She held her breath as Lee lifted his hand and moved it slowly to her, then cried out as his fingers drifted lightly over her nipples.
‘Do you like that?’ he asked in a whisper that was fierce and tender all at once. He lifted her on to his lap, cradling her against him. Her eyes closed; she heard the rasp of his breath, then felt the warmth of it on her flesh as he bent towards her. His lips closed around her nipple and she cried out as he drew it into his mouth.
‘Danielle,’ he said softly. He clasped her shoulders and drew gently away. ‘You’ll have to help me.’
For a moment, she stared at him without comprehension. Then she smiled. ‘Yes,’ she whispered.
Together, they tugged off his denim cut-offs. Lee’s body was powerful and perfect, beautiful in its maleness.
He took her into his arms again, kissing her more and more deeply as he crushed her against him. Once, she pressed inadvertently against his knee and she drew back, hissing her concern.
‘Your poor legs,’ she said.
Lee caught her shoulders. ‘I don’t want pity,’ he said in a tight, angry voice.
She looked up at him. His face had gone dark. ‘I only meant—’
‘Let me worry about my legs,’ he said.
His hands moved over her body, his callused fingertips stroking her thighs, her breasts, bringing life to her flesh. Heat bloomed like a flower in her loins.
Danielle sighed his name. Her hands moved over his face as they kissed. She had wanted to touch him for so long, she thought, she had ached to feel the heat of his hard body against hers, and now—and now…
She caught her breath as he clasped her waist and lifted her over him. ‘Lee. How—how…?’
‘Shh,’ he whispered, his eyes on hers. ‘Shh, sweet Danielle.’
‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘Please…’
He caught her mouth with his, his hands supporting and arranging her as she moved over him. Her hair fell around them like a cloud. He lowered her slowly on to his lap; she gasped as she felt the urgent press of him against her, felt the velvet warmth, the engorged power. Her body opened as the heat that had been building deep within her became his heat, invading her flesh.
The Ruthless Billionaire’s Redemption Page 14