by Diana Palmer
He hadn’t realized that. He stared down at their hands, hers so pale against his deeply tanned one. “I got burned once, didn’t your aunt tell you?”
“I got burned once, too,” she replied, “and I don’t want to—”
“Again,” he finished for her, looking up unexpectedly. “Neither do I.”
“Then why don’t you let go of my hand?” she asked breathlessly.
He drew it relentlessly to his hard mouth and brushed at it with soft, moist strokes that made her go hot all over. “Why don’t you stop me?” he countered. He pried open her palm and touched his tongue to it, and she caught her breath and gasped.
He looked up, his eyes suddenly hotly green and acquisitive, and she felt the first tug of that steely hand on hers with a sense of fantasy. Her eyes were locked into his possessive gaze, her body throbbed with new longings, new curiosities.
“I’m going to teach you a few things you haven’t learned,” he said, his voice like velvet as he drew her relentlessly down toward him. “And I think it’s going to be an explosive lesson for both of us. I feel like a volcano when I touch you…”
Her lips parted as her eyes dropped to his hard, hungry mouth. She could almost see it, feel it, the explosive desire that was going to go up like fireworks when he put his hard mouth on hers and began to touch her.
She almost cried out, the hunger was so formidable. Silence closed in on them. She could hear his breathing, she could feel her heartbeat shaking her. In slow motion she felt his hard thighs ripple as she was tugged down onto them, she felt the power and strength of his hands, smelled the rich fragrance of his cologne, stared into eyes that wanted her.
She parted her lips in breathless anticipation, aching for him. Just as his hand went to her shoulder, to draw her head down, the front door opened with a loud bang.
Chapter Five
“Good morning,” a pleasant auburn-haired young man was saying before Mari was completely composed again. He seemed to notice nothing, equally oblivious to Mari’s flushed face and Ward’s uneven breathing.
“Good morning, David,” Ward said in what he hoped was a normal voice. From the neck down he had an ache that made speech difficult. “Have some coffee before we start to work.”
“No, thank you, sir,” the young man said politely. “Actually, I came to ask for a little time off,” he added with a sheepish grin. “You see…I’ve gotten married.”
Ward gaped at him. His young secretary had always seemed such a levelheaded boy, with a head full of figures. As it turned out, the figures weren’t always the numerical kind.
“Married?” Ward croaked.
“Well, sir, it was kind of a hurried-up thing,” David said with a grin. “We eloped. She’s such a sweet girl. I was afraid somebody else would snap her up. And I wondered, well, if I could just have a couple of weeks. If you could do without me? If you have to replace me, I’ll understand,” he added hesitantly.
“Go ahead,” Ward muttered. “I’ll manage.” He shifted in the chair. “What would you like for a wedding present?”
David brightened immediately. “Two weeks off,” came the amused reply.
“All right, you’ve got it. I’ll hold your job for the time being. Now get out of here. You know weddings give me indigestion,” he added for good measure and then spoiled the whole thing by smiling.
David shook his hand with almost pathetic eagerness. “Thank you, sir!”
“My pleasure. See you in two weeks.”
“Yes, sir!” David grinned at Mari, to whom he hadn’t even been introduced, and beat a path out the door before he could be called back. He knew his boss pretty well.
“That tears it,” Ward grumbled. “What in hell will I do about the mail?”
She stared at him, stunned by his lack of feeling. “He just got married.”
“So what?” he demanded. “Surely the only time he really needs to be with her is after dark.”
“You male chauvinist!”
“What are you so keyed up about, honey?” he taunted irritably. “Frustrated because I couldn’t finish what I started before he walked in on us?”
What good would it do to argue? she asked herself as she noisily loaded up the dirty plates and utensils and took them out to the kitchen without a single word.
He followed her a few minutes later, looking half out of humor and a little guilty.
Standing in the doorway he filled it with his big, tall frame. His hair looked rakish, falling over his broad forehead, and he was so handsome that she had to fight to keep from staring at him all over again.
“I’ve got to ride over and see about my rig on Tyson Wade’s place,” he said quietly. “Can you handle the phone?”
“Sure,” she told him, walking over to the wall phone. “This is the receiver,” she began, pointing to it, speaking in a monotone. “When it rings, you pick it up and talk right in here—”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” he burst out. “What I meant was that it rings all day long, with everything from stock options to social invitations to notices of board meetings!”
She pushed back her bangs. “I’ve worked in offices since I was eighteen,” she told him.
He cocked his head. “Can you type?”
“How ever do you think I’ll manage all the housekeeping and cooking as well as looking after your appointments and answering mail and waiting on Aunt Lillian all at once?” she demanded.
His eyebrows arched. “Well, if you aren’t capable of it, I’ll hire a cook and a maid and a nurse and a secretary…”
Mari could only imagine how her aunt would react to that. She glared at him. “And break Aunt Lillian’s old heart by importing a lot of strangers to keep us apart?”
He laughed in spite of himself. “I guess it would,” he confessed. His green eyes narrowed, and there was a light in them that disturbed her as he ran his gaze slowly over her slender body. “God forbid anything should keep us apart.”
“Don’t you have an oil well to check on?”
“Several, in fact,” he agreed. He folded his arms. “But at the moment I’d rather look at you.”
“And I’d rather you didn’t,” she said curtly, averting her eyes to the dishwater.
“I like the way you react to me, Mari,” he said softly. “I like the way your body starts to tremble when I come close. If I’d started kissing you a few minute ago, we’d still be doing it. I don’t even know if I could stop. And that being the case,” he added, leveling with her, “I think you’d better practice ways to discourage me. Lillian won’t be around much when she comes back until her leg heals. So you and I are going to get a bit of each other’s company. I’d just as soon manage your little visit without showing you how good I am in bed.”
His blatant speech shocked her. She turned, soapy hands poised over the sink, and stared at him. “Are you?” she asked without thinking.
He nodded slowly, holding her gaze, his face dead serious. “A man doesn’t have to be emotionally involved to make love well. I’ve had years of practice. But it’s never meant much, except physically. It never will. So you keep that in mind, sprout, okay?”
“Okay,” she replied, all eyes.
His eyes narrowed at her expression. “Haven’t you ever discussed these things with a man?”
“My parents didn’t discuss things like that,” she replied. “Most of the girls I’ve known had a distorted view of it because they did it with so many people. I…find the thought of it distasteful, somehow. Sleeping with someone, well, it’s intimate, isn’t it? Like using someone’s toothbrush, only more so. I couldn’t…just do that, without loving.”
She sounded so hopelessly naive. He searched her face and realized with a start that he’d never made love to a virgin. Not one. Not ever. And the thought of touching her in all the ways that he’d touched other women produced a shocking reaction from his body—one he was grateful that she wouldn’t recognize.
“What an unusual attitude,” he said involuntar
ily.
“That isn’t the word most people use,” she replied, her eyes dull and lackluster. “Men avoid me like the plague, except to do typing and answer phones. I’m what’s known as an oddball.”
“Because you don’t sleep around?” he asked, stunned.
“Exactly. Didn’t you know that the pill has liberated women?” she explained. “They’re allowed the same freedom as men. They can sleep around every night without any consequences. Of course, they sacrifice a few things along the way that the liberals don’t mention. Things like that deep-seated guilt that all the permissive ideals in the world won’t change.”
He stared at her. “My God, you are a fanatic, aren’t you?” he mused.
She smiled slowly. “How would you like marrying a woman and hearing all about her old lovers? Meeting them occasionally and wondering if you measured up? How would you like to have a pregnant wife and wonder if the baby was really yours? I mean, if she sleeps around before marriage, what’s to keep her from doing it afterward? If promiscuity is okay, isn’t adultery okay as well?”
Everything she was saying disturbed him. Caroline had slept around. Not only with him, but, as he’d later found out, with at least two of his business acquaintances. He frowned at the thought. Yes, he’d have wondered. And he’d only just realized it.
“But I’m just a prude,” she announced dryly. “So don’t mind me. I’ll grow into happy spinsterhood and die with the reputation that Elizabeth I had.”
“Unless you marry,” he said involuntarily.
She laughed ruefully. “Men don’t marry women they haven’t slept with. Not these days.” She turned back to the dishes, oblivious to the brief flash of pain that crossed the face of the man behind her. “I’m not into self-pity, but I do face facts,” she continued calmly. “I’m not pretty, I’m just passable. I’m too thin, and I don’t know how to flirt. And, as you yourself said, I’m a greenhorn when it comes to intimacy. All that adds up to happy spinsterhood.” She gazed thoughtfully out the window over the sink. “I’ll grow prize roses,” she mused aloud. “Yes, that’s what I’ll do. And zinnias and crape myrtle and petunias and lantana and hibiscus.”
He wasn’t listening anymore. He was staring at the back of her head. Her hair was very dark and sleek, and he wished she’d left it long, the way it was in the photograph he’d seen. She wasn’t a beauty, that was true. But she had a pretty good sense of humor, and she didn’t take herself or anyone else too seriously. She had guts and she told the truth. Damn her.
He didn’t like his attraction to her. He didn’t like how she could make him tremble all over like a boy when he started to kiss her. He didn’t want her knowing it, either. The whole point of this exercise was to exorcise. He had to get rid of this lunatic obsession he felt.
“I’m going,” he said shortly, shouldering himself away from the doorjamb. “I’ll be back by three-thirty to go to the hospital with you.”
“I’ll phone meanwhile,” she said.
“Do what you please.” He stormed off, leaving her curious and speechless. What an odd man. What a dangerous man.
She spent the rest of the day working herself into exhaustion so that she wouldn’t dwell on what had happened at breakfast.
* * *
When they got to the hospital, Lillian was sitting on the side of her bed, dressed.
“It’s about time,” she began hotly. “Get me out of here! They’ve put on a cast and decided it was infected sinuses that made me fall. They’ve given me some tablets they say will lower my blood pressure, and if you don’t spring me, I’ll jump out a window!”
“With that?” Ward asked, nodding toward the heavy plaster walking cast on one of her legs.
“With that,” she assured him. “Tell him I’m serious about this, Mari,” she added.
Mari was trying not to laugh. “You look pretty serious.”
“I can see that. Where’s the doctor?”
“He’ll be here any minute,” Lillian began.
“I’ll go find him,” Ward returned, walking quickly out into the hall, moving lightly for a man his size.
“How’s it going?” Lillian asked, all eyes.
“How’s what going?” Mari asked with assumed innocence.
“You were alone all last night!” she hissed. “Did he try anything?”
Mari lifted her eyebrows and pursed her lips. “Well, he did try to call somebody on the phone, but he couldn’t get them.”
Lillian looked pained. “I mean, did he make a pass at you?”
“No,” Mari lied. It was only a white lie, just enough to throw the bloodhound off the scent.
The older woman looked miserable. It didn’t bode well that Ward was so irritable, either. Maybe her matched pair had been arguing. Lillian had to get out of here and do a little stage-managing before it was too late and her whole plan went down the tube!
Ward was back minutes later, looking as unapproachable as he had since he’d driven up to the house at three-thirty with a face like a thunderhead.
“I found him. He says you’re okay, no stroke,” he told Lillian. “You can leave. I’ve signed you out. Let’s go.”
“But we need a wheelchair…” Mari began.
He handed her Lillian’s purse, lifted the elderly woman easily in his arms and carried her out the door, his set features daring anyone to question or stop him.
Back at Three Forks Lillian’s room was on the ground floor, and despite all the protests she immediately returned to the kitchen and started supper.
“Do you want to go back to the hospital?” Ward demanded, hands on hips, glaring. “Get into bed!”
“I can cook with a broken leg,” she returned hotly. “It isn’t my hands that don’t work, and I’ve never yet used my toes!”
He sighed angrily. “Mari can do that.”
“Mari’s answering your letters,” he was pointedly reminded. “She can’t do everything. And with David gone…”
“Damn David,” he muttered darkly. “What a hell of a time to get married!”
Lillian glared at him until he muttered something rough under his breath and strode off toward his den.
Mari was inside the paneled room, working away at the computer. She was trying to erase a mistake and was going crazy deciphering the language of the computer he’d shown her. The word processing program was one of the most expensive and the most complicated. She couldn’t even get it to backspace.
“I can’t do anything with your aunt,” he grumbled, slamming the door. “She’s sitting on a stool making a pie.”
“No wonder you can’t do anything with her,” she commented innocently. “Your stomach won’t let you.”
He glared at her. “How’s it going?”
She sighed. “Don’t you have a typewriter?”
“What year do you think this is?” he demanded. “What kind of equipment have you got at that garage where you work?”
“A manual typewriter,” she said.
His head bent forward. “A what?”
“A manual type—”
“That’s what I thought you said. My God!”
“Well, until they hired me, one of the men was doing all the office work. They thought the manual typewriter was the latest thing. It did beat handwriting all the work orders,” she added sweetly.
“I work with modern equipment,” he told her, gesturing toward the computer. “That’s faster than even an electronic typewriter, and you can save what you do. I thought you knew how to use it.”
“I know how to turn it on,” she agreed brightly.
He moved behind her and peered over her shoulder. “Is that all you’ve done so far?”
“I’ve only been in here an hour,” she reminded him. “It took me that long to discover what to stuff into the big slots.”
“Diskettes,” he said. “Program diskettes.”
“Whatever. Anyway, this manual explains how to build a nuclear device, not how to use the word processing program,” she said,
pushing the booklet away. “Or it might as well. I don’t understand a word of it. Could you show me how it works?” She looked up at him with eyes the color of a robin’s egg.
He actually forgot what he was saying. She had a way of looking at him that made his blood thaw, like the sun beating down on an icy pond. He could imagine how a colt felt on a spring morning with the breeze stirring and juicy grass to eat and a big pasture to run in.
“Could you?” she prompted, lost in his green eyes.
His big hand touched the side of her face tentatively, his thumb moving over her mouth, exploring its soft texture, mussing her lipstick, sensitizing her lips until they parted on a caught breath.
“Could I what, Mari?” he asked in a tone that curled her toes inside her shoes.
Her head was much too far back. It gave him access to her mouth. She saw the intent in his narrowing eyes, in his taut stance. Her body ached for his touch. She looked up at him helplessly, his willing victim, wanting his mouth on hers with a passion that overwhelmed her.
He bent slowly, letting his gaze fall to her parted lips. She could smell the heady fragrance of his cologne now because he was so close. There was mint and coffee on his breath, and he had strong white teeth; she could see them where his chiseled lips parted in anticipation of possession. Her breasts throbbed, and she noticed a tingling, yearning sensation there.
“Your skin is hot,” he whispered, tracing her cheek with his fingers as he tilted his face across hers and moved even closer. “I can feel it burning.”
Her hands were on his arms now. She could feel the powerful muscles through the white shirt that he’d worn with a tie and jacket when they went to pick up Lillian. But the jacket and tie were gone, and the shirt was partially unbuttoned, and now the overwhelming sight of him filled Mari’s world. Her short nails pressed into his skin, bending against those hard muscles as his lips brushed over hers.
“Bite me,” he whispered huskily and then incited her to do it, teasing her mouth, teaching her.