Dangerous Embrace

by Nora Roberts

  “Right here in Cozumel, when I was just a little older than Faith.” As a matter of habit she began to store the leftovers while Jonas ran water in the sink. “My parents brought me. I took to it right away. It was like, I don’t know, learning to fly I suppose.”

  “Is that why you came back?”

  “I came back because I’d always felt peaceful here. I needed to feel peaceful.”

  “But you must have still been in school in the States.”

  “I was in college.” Crouching, Liz shifted things in the refrigerator to make room. “My first year. I was going to be a marine biologist, a teacher who’d enlighten class after class on the mysteries of the sea. A scientist who’d find all the answers. It was such a big dream. It overwhelmed everything else to the point where I studied constantly and rarely went out. Then I—” She caught herself. Straightening slowly, she closed the refrigerator. “You’ll want the lights on to do those dishes.”

  “Then what?” Jonas demanded, taking her shoulder as she hit the switch.

  She stared at him. Light poured over them without the shifting shadows of candles. “Then I met Faith’s father, and that was the end of dreams.”

  The need to know eclipsed judgment. He forgot to be careful. “Did you love him?”

  “Yes. If I hadn’t, there’d have been no Faith.”

  It wasn’t the answer he’d wanted. “Then why are you raising her alone?”

  “That’s obvious, isn’t it?” Anger surged as she shoved his hand aside. “He didn’t want me.”

  “Whether he did or didn’t, he was responsible to you and the child.”

  “Don’t talk to me about responsibility. Faith’s my responsibility.”

  “The law sees things otherwise.”

  “Keep your law,” she snapped. “He could quote it chapter and verse, and it didn’t mean a thing. We weren’t wanted.”

  “So you let pride cut you off from your rights?” Impatient with her, he stuck his hands in his pockets and strode back to the sink. “Why didn’t you fight for what you were entitled to?”

  “You want the details, Jonas?” Memory brought its own particular pain, its own particular shame. Liz concentrated on the anger. Going back to the table, she picked up her glass of wine and drank deeply.

  “I wasn’t quite eighteen. I was going to college to study exactly what I wanted to study so I could do exactly what I wanted to do. I considered myself a great deal more mature than some of my classmates who flitted around from class to class more concerned about where the action would be that night. I spent most of my evenings in the library. That’s where I met him. He was in his last year and knew if he didn’t pass the bar there’d be hell to pay at home. His family had been in law or politics since the Revolution. You’d understand about family honor, wouldn’t you?”

  The arrow hit the mark, but he only nodded.

  “Then you should understand the rest. We saw each other every night in the library, so it was natural that we began to talk, then have a cup of coffee. He was smart, attractive, wonderfully mannered and funny.” Almost violently, she blew out the candles. The scent carried over and hung in the room. “I fell hard. He brought me flowers and took me for long quiet drives on Saturday nights. When he told me he loved me, I believed him. I thought I had the world in the palm of my hand.”

  She set the wine down again, impatient to be finished. Jonas said nothing. “He told me we’d be married as soon as he established himself. We’d sit in his car and look at the stars and he’d tell me about his home in Dallas and the wonderful rooms. The parties and the servants and the chandeliers. It was like a story, a lovely happily-ever-after story. Then one day his mother came.” Liz laughed, but gripped the back of her chair until her knuckles were white. She could still feel the humiliation.

  “Actually, she sent her driver up to the dorm to fetch me. Marcus hadn’t said a thing about her visiting, but I was thrilled that I was going to meet her. At the curb was this fabulous white Rolls, the kind you only see in movies. When the driver opened the door for me, I was floating. Then I got in and she gave me the facts of life. Her son had a certain position to maintain, a certain image to project. She was sure I was a very nice girl, but hardly suitable for a Jensann of Dallas.”

  Jonas’s eyes narrowed at the name, but he said nothing. Restless, Liz went to the stove and began to scrub the surface. “She told me she’d already spoken with her son and he understood the relationship had to end. Then she offered me a check as compensation. I was humiliated, and worse, I was pregnant. I hadn’t told anyone yet, because I’d just found out that morning. I didn’t take her money. I got out of the Rolls and went straight to Marcus. I was sure he loved me enough to toss it all aside for me, and for our baby. I was wrong.”

  Her eyes were so dry that they hurt. Liz pressed her fingers to them a moment. “When I went to see him, he was very logical. It had been nice; now it was over. His parents held the purse strings and it was important to keep them happy. But he wanted me to know we could still see each other now and again, as long as it was on the side. When I told him about the baby, he was furious. How could I have done such a thing? I.”

  Liz tossed the dishrag into the sink so that hot, soapy water heaved up. “It was as though I’d conceived the baby completely on my own. He wouldn’t have it, he wouldn’t have some silly girl who’d gotten herself pregnant messing up his life. He told me I had to get rid of it. It—as though Faith were a thing to be erased and forgotten. I was hysterical. He lost his temper. There were threats. He said he’d spread word that I was sleeping around and his friends would back him up. I’d never be able to prove the baby was his. He said my parents would be embarrassed, perhaps sued if I tried to press it. He tossed around a lot of legal phrases that I couldn’t understand, but I understood he was finished with me. His family had a lot of pull at the college, and he said he’d see that I was dismissed. Because I was foolish enough to believe everything he said, I was terrified. He gave me a check and told me to go out of state—better, out of the country—to take care of things. That way no one would have to know.

  “For a week I did nothing. I went through my classes in a daze, thinking I’d wake up and find out it had all been a bad dream. Then I faced it. I wrote my parents, telling them what I could. I sold the car they’d given me when I graduated from high school, took the check from Marcus and came to Cozumel to have my baby.”

  He’d wanted to know, even demanded, but now his insides were raw. “You could have gone to your parents.”

  “Yes, but at the time Marcus had convinced me they’d be ashamed. He told me they’d hate me and consider the baby a burden.”

  “Why didn’t you go to his family? You were entitled to be taken care of.”

  “Go to them?” He’d never heard venom in her voice before. “Be taken care of by them? I’d have gone to hell first.”

  He waited a moment, until he was sure he could speak calmly. “They don’t even know, do they?”

  “No. And they never will. Faith is mine.”

  “And what does Faith know?”

  “Only what she has to know. I’d never lie to her.”

  “And do you know that Marcus Jensann has his sights set on the senate, and maybe higher?”

  Her color drained quickly and completely. “You know him?”

  “By reputation.”

  Panic came and went, then returned in double force. “He doesn’t know Faith exists. None of them do. They can’t.”

  Watching her steadily, he took a step closer. “What are you afraid of?”

  “Power. Faith is mine, she’s going to stay mine. None of them will ever touch her.”

  “Is that why you stay here? Are you hiding from them?”

  “I’ll do whatever’s necessary to protect my child.”

  “He’s still got you running scared.” Furious for her, Jonas took her arms. “He’s got a frightened teenager strapped inside of you who’s never had the chance to stretch and feel
alive. Don’t you know a man like that wouldn’t even remember who you are? You’re still running away from a man who wouldn’t recognize you on the street.”

  She slapped him hard enough to make his head snap back. Breathing fast, she backed away from him, appalled by a show of violence she hadn’t been aware of possessing. “Don’t tell me what I’m running from,” she whispered. “Don’t tell me what I feel.” She turned and fled. Before she’d reached the front door he had her again, whirling her around, gripping her hard. He no longer knew why his anger was so fierce, only that he was past the point of controlling it.

  “How much have you given up because of him?” Jonas demanded. “How much have you cut out of your life?”

  “It’s my life!” she shouted at him.

  “And you won’t share it with anyone but your daughter. What the hell are you going to do when she’s grown? What the hell are you going to do in twenty years when you have nothing but your memories?”

  “Don’t.” Tears filled her eyes too quickly to be blinked away.

  He grabbed her close again, twisting until she had to look at him. “We all need someone. Even you. It’s about time someone proved it to you.”

  “No.”

  She tried to turn her head but he was quick. With his mouth crushed on hers she struggled, but her arms were trapped between their bodies and his were ironlike around her. Emotions already mixed with fear and anger became more confused with passion. Liz fought not to give in to any of them as his mouth demanded both submission and response.

  “You’re not fighting me,” he told her. His eyes were close, searing into hers. “You’re fighting yourself. You’ve been fighting yourself since the first time we met.”

  “I want you to let me go.” She wanted her voice to be strong, but it trembled.

  “Yes. You want me to let you go just as much as you want me not to. You’ve been making your own decisions for a long time, Liz. This time I’m making one for you.”

  Her furious protest was lost against his mouth as he pressed her down to the sofa. Trapped under him, her body began to heat, her blood began to stir. Yes, she was fighting herself. She had to fight herself before she could fight him. But she was losing.

  She heard her own moan as his lips trailed down her throat, and it was a moan of pleasure. She felt the hard line of his body against hers as she arched under him, but it wasn’t a movement of protest. Want me, she seemed to say. Want me for what I am.

  Her pulse began to thud in parts of her body that had been quiet for so many years. Life burst through her like a torrid wind through thin glass until every line of defense was shattered. With a desperate groan, she took his face in her hands and dragged his mouth back to hers.

  She could taste the passion, the life, the promises. She wanted them all. Recklessness, so long chained within, tore free and ruled. A sound bubbled in her throat she wasn’t even aware was a laugh as she wrapped herself around him. She wanted. He wanted. The hell with the rest.

  He wasn’t sure what had driven him—anger, need, pain. All he knew now was that he had to have her, body, soul and mind. She was wild beneath him, but no longer in resistance. Every movement was a demand that he take more, give more, and nothing seemed fast enough. She was a storm set to rage, a fire desperate to consume. Whatever he’d released inside of her had whipped out and taken him prisoner.

  He pulled the shirt over her head and tossed it aside. His heartbeat thundered. She was so small, so delicate. But he had a beast inside him that had been caged too long. He took her breast in his mouth and sent them both spinning. She tasted so fresh: a cool, clear glass of water. She smelled of woman at her most unpampered and most seductive. He felt her body arch against his, taut as a bowstring, hot as a comet. The innocence that remained so integral a part of her trembled just beneath wanton passion. No man alive could have resisted it; any man alive might have wished for it. His mouth was buried at her throat when he felt the shirt rip away from his back.

  She hardly knew what she was doing. Touching him sent demands to her brain that she couldn’t deny. She wanted to feel him against her, flesh to flesh, to experience an intimacy she’d so long refused to allow herself. There’d been no one else. As Liz felt her skin fused to his she understood why. There was only one Jonas. She pulled his mouth back to hers to taste him again.

  He drew off her slacks so that she was naked, but she didn’t feel vulnerable. She felt invulnerable. Hardly able to breathe, she struggled with his. Then she gave him no choice. Desperate for that final release, she wrapped her legs around him and drew him into her until she was filled. At the shock of that first ragged peak, her eyes flew open. Inches away, he watched her face. Her mouth trembled open, but before she could catch her breath, he was driving her higher, faster. She couldn’t tell how long they balanced on the edge, trapped between pleasure and fulfillment. Then his arms came around her, hers around his. Together, they broke free.

  * * *

  She didn’t speak. Her system leveled slowly, and she was helpless to hurry it. He didn’t move. He’d shifted his weight, but his arms had come around her and stayed there. She needed him to speak, to say something that would put what had happened in perspective. She’d only had one other lover and had learned not to expect.

  Jonas rested his forehead against her shoulder a moment. He was wrestling with his own demons. “I’m sorry, Liz.”

  He could have said nothing worse. She closed her eyes and forced her emotions to drain. She nearly succeeded. Steadier, she reached for the tangle of clothes on the floor. “I don’t need an apology.” With her clothes in a ball in her arm, she walked quickly to the bedroom.

  On a long breath, Jonas sat up. He couldn’t seem to find the right buttons on Liz Palmer. Every move he made seemed to be a move in reverse. It still stunned him that he’d been so rough with her, left her so little choice in the final outcome. He’d be better off hiring her a private bodyguard and moving himself back to the hotel. It was true he didn’t want to see her hurt and felt a certain responsibility for her welfare, but he didn’t seem to be able to act on it properly. When she’d stood in the kitchen telling him what she’d been through, something had begun to boil in him. That it had taken the form of passion in the end wasn’t something easily explained or justified. His apology had been inadequate, but he had little else.

  Drawing on his pants, Jonas started for his room. It shouldn’t have surprised him to find himself veering toward Liz’s. She was just pulling on a robe. “It’s late, Jonas.”

  “Did I hurt you?”

  She sent him a look that made guilt turn over in his stomach. “Yes. Now I want to take a shower before I go to bed.”

  “Liz, there’s no excuse for being so rough, and there’s no making it up to you, but—”

  “Your apology hurt me,” she interrupted. “Now if you’ve said all you have to say, I’d like to be alone.”

  He stared at her a moment, then dragged a hand through his hair. How could he have convinced himself he understood her when she was now and always had been an enigma? “Damn it, Liz, I wasn’t apologizing for making love to you, but for the lack of finesse. I practically tossed you on the ground and ripped your clothes off.”

  She folded her hands and tried to keep calm. “I ripped yours.”

  His lips twitched, then curved. “Yeah, you did.”

  Humor didn’t come into her eyes. “And do you want an apology?”

  He came to her then and rested his hands on her shoulders. Her robe was cotton and thin and whirling with bright color. “No. I guess what I’d like is for you to say you wanted me as much as I wanted you.”

  Her courage weakened, so she looked beyond him. “I’d have thought that was obvious.”

  “Liz.” His hand was gentle as he turned her face back to his.

  “All right. I wanted you. Now—”

  “Now,” he interrupted. “Will you listen?”

  “There’s no need to say anything.”

  “
Yes, there is.” He walked with her to the bed and drew her down to sit. Moonlight played over their hands as he took hers. “I came to Cozumel for one reason. My feelings on that haven’t changed but other things have. When I first met you I thought you knew something, were hiding something. I linked everything about you to Jerry. It didn’t take long for me to see there was something else. I wanted to know about you, for myself.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. It’s impossible not to care about you.” At her look of surprise, he smiled. “You project this image of pure self-sufficiency and still manage to look like a waif. Tonight, I purposely maneuvered you into talking about Faith and what had brought you here. When you told me I couldn’t handle it.”

  She drew her hand from his. “That’s understandable. Most people have trouble handling unwed mothers.”

  Anger bubbled as he grabbed her hand again. “Stop putting words in my mouth. You stood in the kitchen talking and I could see you, young, eager and trusting, being betrayed and hurt. I could see what it had done to you, how it had closed you off from things you wanted to do.”

  “I told you I don’t have any regrets.”

  “I know.” He lifted her hand and kissed it. “I guess for a moment I needed to have them for you.”

  “Jonas, do you think anyone’s life turns out the way they plan it as children?”

  He laughed a little as he slipped an arm around her and drew her against him. Liz sat still a moment, unsure how to react to the casual show of affection. Then she leaned her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. “Jerry and I were going to be partners.”

  “In what?”

  “In anything.”

  She touched the coin on the end of his chain. “He had one of these.”

  “Our grandparents gave them to us when we were kids. They’re identical five-dollar gold pieces. Funny, I always wore mine heads up. Jerry wore his heads down.” He closed his fingers over the coin. “He stole his first car when we were sixteen.”