Danielle cried out Lee’s name as he thrust upwards and entered her.
‘Yes,’ he whispered. ‘Yes, that’s right, yes, sweet, yes.’
His hands clasped her hips. Together, like dancers finding their way to some new and wonderful music, they began to move.
She heard the moaning keen of her own voice, heard Lee’s answering hoarse cry—and then the earth dropped away. She was soaring into the sun, and the radiance of the universe was all around her.
When she came back to the world, she was curled in Lee’s arms. He kissed her lips, her throat, then drew her face to his chest.
‘Are you all right, sweetheart?’ he asked softly.
She didn’t trust herself to speak. Her heart was too full. She nodded and touched her hand to his cheek.
He laughed gently. ‘You see?’ he whispered, smoothing the damp curls back from her forehead. ‘Didn’t I tell you not to worry about my legs?’
Even with her face safely buried against his chest, Danielle blushed. ‘Are you sure I didn’t hurt you? I—I didn’t think we could…’
Lee smiled. ‘I didn’t think so, either. But we did.’ His voice grew thick. ‘And we will. Come with me to my room, Danielle. I want to lie down and hold you in my arms.’
‘Lee,’ she said, looking up at him, ‘are you sure you…?’
His mouth brushed against hers. ‘Come with me,’ he said urgently.
Minutes later, lying beside him, wrapped in his arms, Danielle stopped thinking about his legs, about what lay ahead—about anything but the man she loved.
Reality only returned with dawn’s first light, when she awoke again, as she had throughout the night, to Lee’s kisses.
She felt him smile against her throat. ‘What are you thinking?’ she whispered.
He laughed softly. ‘That the sawbones can do his worst this afternoon,’ he said, touching her. ‘I’m as ready for Bonet as I’ll ever be.’
His words meant she had given him back the self-confidence he needed. They warmed her heart—and, at the same time, they broke it.
Soon, Lee Bradford would be lost to her forever.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
WHEN Danielle woke again, the bedroom blazed with sunlight. She was alone in Lee’s bed—the bathroom door was shut, and she could hear the sound of running water coming from the handheld shower.
She sat up, blinking as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror on the far wall. Her hair was a softly tangled cloud. Her mouth was swollen, still warm with Lee’s kisses. And there was a faint bruise at the juncture of throat and shoulder.
A smile hovered on her lips. The signs of Lee’s possession were on her body.
Her smile trembled, then fell away. How could she face him this morning? The long, sweet night had left her defenceless. She felt as if she were wearing her emotions on her sleeve—all he’d have to do to see the truth of her love was look at her.
What a fool she’d been to think she could carry this off.
She started as the sound of running water stopped. She couldn’t face him. Not just yet. She needed time to get herself together… Quickly, she pushed back the blankets, then rose from the bed and raced across the room. Her bare feet were soundless wings flying up the slate steps. When she reached the safety of her own room, Danielle closed the door behind her and fell back against it.
She had already turned on the shower when she heard Lee call her name. She leaned against the door, heart pounding. Her pulse tripped when she heard the scrape of his crutches across the tile floor downstairs.
‘Danielle?’ he said again.
Huddled in silence, she waited. Time dragged until she heard him move off down the hall.
But she couldn’t hide forever. She took as long as she could showering and dressing, until finally there was only a little time left until they had to leave for Nice and Lee’s appointment with the doctor. Then, with only minutes to fill, Danielle made her way slowly down the stairs.
Lee was in the kitchen. He didn’t see her; he was standing at the far side of the room, sipping a cup of coffee as he looked out at the garden. Her heart swelled. She longed to run into his arms, to kiss him and tell him she loved him. But she couldn’t, she’d known that all along.
Unless… Her pulse quickened. She was too old for believing in miracles, yes. Still, the night in Lee’s arms had been a miracle, hadn’t it? Anything was possible. Anything—
The jangling ring of the telephone made her jump. Who would call at this hour? she thought, glancing at the clock. Not Lee’s teammates or Wexler. It was probably the doctor’s office, phoning to confirm his appointment.
Lee reached back and picked up the receiver. ‘Bradford.’ He listened for a moment, then shook his head. ‘No,’ he said softly, ‘don’t come here. I’ll meet you in Nice. At one o’clock. Right. In that little café around the corner from—yes, that’s the one. No. No, of course not. I’ll be alone, Val. Monaco?’ He laughed softly. ‘Yes, I’m looking forward to it, too. And then Italy?’
Danielle fell back, stunned. Val? Lee was on the phone with Val? But—but Val hadn’t called here all these weeks, she hadn’t cared enough to…
Lee turned as he hung up the receiver. Their eyes met. There was a silence, and then he managed a forced smile.
‘Hi. I thought the smell of coffee might get you moving.’
Her smile was as forced as his. ‘Yes. It did.’ She walked to the counter, poured herself some, and took a sip. ‘That’s good,’ she said brightly, as if coffee were all that mattered this morning. Say something about the phone call, she thought. But the seconds ticked away, and finally she looked at him, her smile this time even more artificial than the last. ‘That’s the first time the phone’s rung in days.’
Lee’s eyes slipped from hers. ‘Yes,’ he said, turning his back to her. ‘It was—er—it was Wexler. I—I called him last week and told him I’d be in Nice today, if there was any technical stuff he wanted to check with me.’
Danielle’s throat tightened. ‘Ah,’ she said, ‘Barney Wexler. Of course.’
‘Yeah.’ He glanced at her as he hobbled to the coffee pot. ‘Seems he’s gone over-schedule on the film.’ He paused. ‘It turns out they haven’t shot all the race footage yet. They want me to come to Monaco next week.’
‘Is that so?’ Was that crisp voice really hers? ‘Well, I suppose if Bonet give you the go-ahead…’
‘About Bonet,’ he said quickly. ‘I arranged for a taxi to Nice, Danielle. I—I have to see this through on my own.’ He touched his tongue to his lips. ‘I hope you understand.’
She turned away. There would not even be this day, then. Oh, Lee, she thought, Lee…
‘You don’t have to explain anything to me.’ Her voice was rushed, the words almost slurred. ‘Starting today, what you do is—is your own business.’
Lee’s crutches scraped across the floor. He stopped just behind her and put one hand lightly on her shoulder.
‘Danielle, I—I just want you to know that when Bonet takes off this cast, when I can get on with my life again…’ He puffed out his breath. ‘I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me,’ he said softly.
Tears trembled on her lashes and she blinked them away. ‘I’m glad I could help,’ she said, easing away from his grasp.
‘You did more than “help”. I don’t know how I’d have got through the summer without you.’
‘Well,’ she said brightly, ‘that makes two of us. Thanks to the deal we made, I—’
‘What deal?’
She took a breath, then turned to face him with what she prayed was a smile pasted to her lips. ‘You gave me a job when I needed one. And a place to stay.’
Lee smiled. ‘Are we back to that?’ he said, watching her closely. ‘I didn’t fall for that story the first time you tried it on me.’ He took a step forward. ‘Don’t you think it’s time you admitted the truth?’
Panic beat in her pulse. ‘That is the truth. I…’
His smile
tilted. ‘Come on,’ he said in a coaxing whisper. ‘After last night, you can give me the satisfaction of hearing you say it.’
Danielle stared at him. Suddenly, that arrogant smile of his was back, spreading across his face like the return of an unwelcome guest. Her heart lurched. They had come full circle, she thought bitterly. The old Lee Bradford, in hiding these past few weeks, had returned.
His hand closed around the back of her head, his fingers moved softly along her nape, as they had last night, playing against her skin until her nerve endings were all sensitised.
‘Tell me,’ he whispered.
Oh, God. What did he want from her now? She had already given everything. Everything but the little pride left to her—and not even he could take that away. It was the one great lesson of her life: some parts of yourself must never be for sale.
Think. Damn it, think! There must be something you can say, something you can tell him.
‘Actually,’ she said, her voice trembling, ‘there was another reason. I never—I never told you about Eddie, did I?’
Lee’s smile vanished. ‘Eddie? Who the hell is Eddie?’
She faltered for a second. Suddenly, there was something dark in his face, something that frightened her.
‘Well? I’m waiting. Who’s Eddie?’
‘He was—he was a man I knew.’ She drew a steadying breath. ‘He—he was killed in a car accident.’
Lee stared at her. ‘Killed? In a…?’
Danielle nodded. ‘Yes. I—I saw it happen. And that’s why—that’s why…’
Her voice faded away. Stupid, she thought, stupid! Why was she telling him this? Yes, she’d seen Eddie die, but it wasn’t the reason she’d offered to help Lee. Her pathetic story was cheapening Eddie’s memory, cheapening the love she felt for the man standing before her. She wanted to call back her words. But what could she substitute for them? What could she say that would leave her with a shred of dignity?
Lee’s hand tightened on her. ‘Is that the reason you collapsed the day of the stunt crash?’
She nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘And the reason you offered to help me? Because you—you hadn’t got over this man’s death?’
She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. ‘It was—it was something like that.’
His face darkened until it was like a thundercloud. ‘And is that the reason you slept with me last night?’
His thumb lay in the hollow of her throat, pressing lightly against her pulse.
‘Must we talk about that? What happened was just—was just…’
‘Answer me, dammit. Was there a ghost in that bed with us?’
She flinched at the rawness of his words. Say yes, she told herself, but she couldn’t.
‘No,’ she said softly. ‘That was—that was…’ She fell silent.
‘Was what?’ His voice was ominously soft.
She couldn’t lie. Not about this. In the end, all she could do was shake her head. ‘It—it had nothing to do with Eddie,’ she whispered. ‘I did that—I did that for you.’
Lee’s hand fell away from her. ‘God,’ he said softly, ‘Val was right about you after all. You’ll do anything, if you think somebody needs you.’
The colour drained from Danielle’s cheeks. ‘That’s not true.’
His mouth twisted. ‘You went to bed with me last night to give me the courage you thought I needed before my cast comes off today.’
‘It—it wasn’t the way you make it sound. I knew you needed to prove yourself. But…’
His face contorted with disgust, just as it had the night of the accident, the night he’d started to make love to her before he’d shoved her out of the car.
‘My God.’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t know whether to feel sorry for you or to…’ He fell silent, and suddenly a car horn rent the fabric of the late-summer morning. Lee let out his breath, grasped his crutches tightly, and shoved past her. ‘That’s my taxi.’
Danielle stared as he swung towards the front door, and then she hurried after him.
‘Lee? Will you—will you be back?’
He stopped and looked back at her. ‘Yes. Just long enough to collect my things.’ He stared at her, as if there was something more he wanted to say, and then he turned away quickly and swung down the steps. ‘Goodbye, Danielle.’
She stood in the open doorway, watching as he made his way to the taxi. It started slowly, then bounced on to the narrow track that arrowed through the ancient olive grove, swaying from side to side as it picked up speed, vanishing at last in a cloud of hot Provençal dust.
Slowly, Danielle stepped inside the cottage and closed the door. Then, as if she had aged a century in the past minute, she made her way up the slate staircase to her room.
* * *
‘Missouri in winter.’ Ginny sighed, leaning her elbows on the windowsill as she peered out into the darkening sky. ‘Somebody should write a poem about it.’
Danielle looked up from the ancient sewing table she was refinishing and smiled. ‘They can’t. It’s hard to find rhymes for snow, ice, and brrr!’
Her friend laughed as she turned around. ‘Isn’t that the truth?’ She sighed again as she sank down on the carpet opposite Danielle. ‘I guess you don’t believe all that stuff about not being able to turn a sow’s ear into a silk purse, hmm?’
Danielle eyed the table warily. ‘Are you trying to tell me this thing still looks as if it should be firewood?’
‘I’m afraid so, my friend.’
‘Well, then,’ Danielle said grimly, ‘I’ll just have to oil it harder.’
Ginny watched for a while, then yawned. ‘Want to take in a movie tonight?’
‘I don’t think so, thanks.’
‘Yeah, it’s probably not a good idea. It’s supposed to snow later, and you know that old car of mine.’ She pursed her lips. ‘Just think, Danielle—your aunt and uncle are baking in the Arizona sun while we freeze our buns off.’
Danielle pushed back her hair and smiled. ‘Um-hmm.’
‘What I wouldn’t give to be someplace where the sun still knows how to shine.’ Ginny sighed. ‘I’ll bet it’s hot as blazes in Florida. Or Mexico. Or the Riviera.’
Danielle’s head came up sharply. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Her friend stared at her. ‘Did I forget to say that in English? It means,’ she said with deliberate slowness, ‘I’ll—bet—it’s—hot—as—blazes—in…’
Danielle sighed and tossed the polishing rag aside. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean to take your head off.’
Ginny’s eyebrows rose delicately. ‘Nothing terribly unusual in that, though. You take my head off each time I mention the Riviera, or Provence.’
‘I don’t. You’re exaggerating. I simply—’
‘Or last summer.’ Ginny paused. ‘Aren’t you ever going to tell me what happened to you over there?’
‘Nothing happened. I went to France, spent the summer, and came home. End of story.’
‘How I Spent My Summer Vacation,’ Ginny said, waggling her eyebrows. ‘By Danielle Nichols. For goodness’ sake, third-graders do better reports than that.’
Danielle picked up the polishing cloth again. ‘What do you want? A day-by-day account?’
Her friend smiled. ‘I’d be satisfied with an account of how it feels to spend the whole summer with Lee Bradford.’
Danielle’s cheeks flushed. ‘Come on, Ginny. That’s not—’
‘School started again five months ago. And I still haven’t got a whole sentence out of you about that man—which strikes me as a little weird, my friend, considering that you lived with him for—’
‘I didn’t live with him. I just…’
‘OK. Poor choice of words.’ Ginny leaned forward. ‘At least tell me what’s he’s like. Aside from gorgeous, I mean.’
‘Honestly!’ Danielle’s tongue peeked out between her teeth as she bent over the table and rubbed at its surface. ‘You’ve been locked away with teenagers
too long. You’re beginning to sound like them.’
Her friend blew out an exasperated breath. ‘Look who’s talking. I, at least, go out for an evening with one of our local eligibles.’ She made a face. ‘Which reminds me—Barry Arnold’s taking me to dinner Saturday. His cousin is in from Detroit—he’s a doctor or a dentist or something. How would you like to—?’
‘No. I mean, I can’t.’
‘I know. You have to do something vital. Like wash your hair. Or defrost the fridge.’ She watched as Danielle worked furiously at the old table. ‘Or polish that stupid thing until your hands fall off.’ Ginny leaned forward and touched her friend’s arm. ‘Hey,’ she said softly, ‘don’t you think it’s time we talked about it?’
Danielle frowned. ‘I give up. Maybe I’ll take this down to that little refinishing shop we passed last week. Remember? The one with the curly maple desk in the window? What the heck—how much can it cost?’
Ginny eyed her narrowly. ‘Certainly not more than it costs to get a word out of you.’
For a moment, Danielle went on staring at the table. Then she sighed, tossed aside the cloth, and slumped back on her heels. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘What do you want to know?’
Ginny looked at her. ‘Only what you want to tell me.’
Danielle laughed. ‘Come on, Gin, you have to be kidding. You’ve been after me and after me for months—and now that you’ve finally worn me down, you say you only want to hear what I want to tell you?’ She blew a strand of hair from her face as she got to her feet. ‘That’s like the Grand Master of the Inquisition peeling somebody off the rack and saying, “Only tell me what you wish to confess, my son.”’
Ginny smiled. ‘OK, point taken.’ She rose and followed Danielle to the kitchen. ‘Look, all I’m trying to say, in my not so graceful way, is that I want to help you.’
‘Well, you can. Set the table while I put together something to eat.’
‘I’ve seen that look in your eyes,’ Ginny said as she laid out silverware and napkins. ‘You can’t fool me.’
‘What look?’ Danielle yanked open the refrigerator door and peered inside. ‘How does a grilled cheese sandwich sound?’
The Ruthless Billionaire’s Redemption Page 15