A Man of Means

by Diana Palmer

  When he finished, he let out a harsh breath. So that was Meredith’s secret. No wonder her father drank. No wonder she was so reticent and quiet about her past. He smiled as he considered her true profession, and he was determined that Rey wasn’t going to know about it until disclosure was inevitable. Rey was too prone to conclusion-jumping and rushing to judgment. It was about time he had a set down, and Meredith was just the woman to give it to him. Meanwhile, he’d let Rey work on hanging himself. Obviously Meredith was enjoying her anonymity, and considering the high-powered pressures of her daily job, it wasn’t surprising that she found mundane housekeeping a nice change. It wouldn’t hurt to let her enjoy the vacation from stress, without probing into her feelings. No doubt she still felt the grief, even after several months.

  He touched the report with idle fingers, frowning as he recognized one of the names on it. Mike had been a Houston policeman. He was also a friend of Colter Banks, a Texas Ranger and cousin of the Harts, who worked out of the Houston ranger office. It really was a small world. He wanted to tell Meredith that he remembered Mike, but he didn’t want to blow her cover. He also didn’t want her to know that they’d been checking up on her.

  He put the file into the filing cabinet, deliberately putting it under the wrong letter of the alphabet. If Rey asked, he’d just tell him that the agency was working on it but had other, more urgent cases to assign agents to first.

  Meredith was alone in the house when Rey came in, late that night, from his business trip. Leo had gone to dinner at the Brewsters’ house again, presumably at the invitation of Janie’s father, to talk about a new breeding bull the Brewsters were trying to sell him.

  She’d just started the dishwasher and was ready to turn the lights off in the kitchen when she heard Rey come in.

  He paused in the kitchen doorway, a black Stetson slanted over one dark eye, wearing a grey vested suit that clung lovingly to the hard, muscular lines of his tall body. Meredith felt ragged by comparison in her jeans and red T-shirt, and barefoot. Her hair was disheveled because she’d been scrubbing the floor with a brush, and she wasn’t wearing makeup. She hadn’t expected to see either of the brothers before she went to bed.

  Rey’s dark eyes went to her pretty feet and he smiled. ‘‘You don’t like shoes, do you?’’

  She grimaced. ‘‘No, and it’s not good to go without them. No arch support.’’ She studied his lean face. He had dark circles under his eyes. ‘‘Would you like some coffee and something to eat?’’

  ‘‘I would,’’ he said heavily. ‘‘They gave me peanuts on the plane,’’ he added with absolute disgust.

  She chuckled. The sound was pleasant, and Rey was surprised at how it touched him to hear her laugh.

  ‘‘I’ll make you a nice thick low-fat ham sandwich with sauce.’’

  ‘‘Thanks,’’ he said, sliding a chair out so that he could straddle it. He tossed his hat into the chair beside him and ran a hand through his thick dark hair. ‘‘Make the coffee first, Meredith. I’ve got paperwork that has to be done tonight before the accountant comes to do the books in the morning.’’

  ‘‘Can’t it wait?’’ she asked gently. ‘‘You look worn to a frazzle. You need an early night.’’

  His eyes searched hers intently. ‘‘I don’t need mothering,’’ he said, angered out of all proportion.

  She flushed and turned away. She didn’t apologize or say another word, but her hands shook as she filled the coffeepot and started it brewing.

  Rey cursed himself silently for snapping at her. It was unkind, especially after she’d volunteered to feed him. She’d been working hard, too, he could see the spotless floor and the brush and bucket she’d been using on it. She must have done it on her hands and knees. It was a big kitchen, too. He wasn’t the only one who was tired.

  He got up from the chair and moved to stand just behind her. His lean hands caught her small waist and pulled her back against him. ‘‘I’m sorry,’’ he said, his voice deep and husky with sudden emotion.

  Her cold fingers came to rest on his and her whole body went rigid as a flash of white-hot pleasure shot through it. She caught her breath. He heard it. His own body tautened and the hands around her waist suddenly grew possessive, rough, insistent, as they pulled her tight against him.

  He could hear her breathing change. He could feel the faint tremor of her hands over his. Impulsively he bent his head and his mouth touched the side of her neck.

  Five

  Meredith knew her knees were shaking. She hoped she wasn’t going to fall on the floor at his feet with sheer excitement. It had been years since a man had made her feel such a rush of pleasure, and even then, it had been one-sided. She’d been crazy about a man who only saw her as a sort of unrelated sister. But even that wasn’t as powerful as what she was feeling with Rey Hart.

  His mouth became insistent as it moved slowly up her neck. He began to turn her, in the silence that was suddenly alive with passion. His hard lips traveled to the hollow of her throat, where a tiny pulse hammered, and then up to her chin. His teeth nibbled her chin, moving on to her lower lip. He tugged it away from the top one and tasted it with his tongue. All the while, his lean, strong hands were sliding up and down at her waist, smoothing her body completely against him.

  His teeth nipped at her top lip with a sensual approach that made her breath shiver in her throat. He was experienced, far more so than she was. For all her professional capability, in this way she was a novice, and it showed.

  He noticed her lack of sensual response with absent curiosity. She was attracted to him, that was obvious, but it was as if she didn’t know what to do.

  He guided her hands to his vest and flicked open buttons while his lips teased around hers. She fumbled and he laughed softly, his nose rubbing against hers as he moved her hands and unfastened the buttons on his vest and shirt with deft efficiency. He coaxed her hands inside, against thick hair and hard, warm muscle, while his mouth began to bite at hers, tempting her lips to part. She was stiff, trying not to respond, but her body was hungry.

  ‘‘Like this,’’ he whispered gently, teaching her mouth the lazy, sensual rhythm he wanted from it. ‘‘Taste my mouth, the way I’m tasting yours. Don’t fight what you’re feeling.’’

  She heard the words as if through a fog. She didn’t understand what he was saying, but her body obeyed him. She was in a sensual limbo, her hands flat against his chest, her head lifted, her eyes slitted and looking up into his as he began to increase the teasing pressure of his mouth. She followed his lips. She relaxed into the curve of his powerful body with a little shiver.

  He devoured her mouth roughly, again and then again, tempting her until her mouth followed his, returning the arousing pressure. She could see the glitter grow in his narrow eyes, feel the grip of his lean hands as he pushed her hips against the sudden hardness of him. She gasped with embarrassment and then lost all sense of it as his mouth opened and pushed down hard against her parted lips, drowning her in passion.

  It was like flying, she thought dazedly. He hesitated for an instant and her eyes opened, drowsy and curious. Her mouth was swollen, soft, tremulous. She looked at him with fascination, utterly helpless in his embrace. He felt an unfamiliar protectiveness toward her. It had been years since he’d kissed an innocent. Meredith’s lack of experience was obvious. He was enjoying it.

  ‘‘Yes,’’ he murmured gruffly, and he bent again. His arms enfolded her, tender arms that no longer forced her into intimacy. His mouth was tender, too, exploring hers with slow mastery, careful not to overwhelm her.

  She sighed into his hard mouth, relaxing against him. Her hands moved restlessly on his broad, bare chest, and contracted in the thick mat of hair that covered him.

  He lifted his head, staring down into her wide eyes with somber delight. His hands smoothed hers deeper into his thick hair and hard muscle. He traced the edges of her short nails with his thumbs. His breath was jerky. He didn’t like having her see that he wa
s vulnerable. There were too many things he still didn’t know about her, and he didn’t trust her. She seemed innocent, but he couldn’t forget the dress she’d been wearing and the accusations her father had made about her. He didn’t dare trust her on such short acquaintance. On the other hand, his body was singing with pleasure from the long, hot contact with hers. He couldn’t force himself to let her go. Not just yet.

  ‘‘Why did you do that?’’ she asked huskily.

  One dark eyebrow lifted. He didn’t smile. ‘‘Why did you let me?’’ he shot back.

  She felt uncomfortable. Despite the effort it took, she moved away from him. He let her go with no show of reluctance. He watched her struggle for composure while he refastened buttons with easy confidence, concealing the effect she had on him. He didn’t even look ruffled.

  ‘‘The coffee must be done by now,’’ he pointed out when she seemed unable to move.

  She turned stiffly and went to fill cups and put them, along with cream and sugar, on the table.

  While he fixed his coffee, she made him two thick ham sandwiches with hands that slowly lost their tremor. She was devastated by a kiss that didn’t seem to have disturbed him at all. She remembered the sudden hardness of his body, but she knew all about anatomy. A man couldn’t help that reaction to anything feminine, it was part of his makeup. It wasn’t even personal.

  Somehow, it made things worse to know that. She felt his eyes on her back, and she knew he was measuring her up. She had no idea why he’d kissed her, but she didn’t trust his motives. He didn’t like her. She couldn’t afford to let her guard down. Rey Hart would be hell on a woman who loved him. She knew that instinctively.

  By the time she had the sandwiches made, her hands were steady again and she was able to put them on the table with a cool smile.

  ‘‘I have to tidy up the living room…’’ she began.

  He caught her hand as she started past him. ‘‘Sit down, Meredith,’’ he said quietly.

  She sat. He sipped coffee and studied her for a long moment. ‘‘I talked to Simon while I was away,’’ he said. ‘‘Your father has been released from jail and placed in an alcohol treatment center. It’s early days yet, but the prognosis is good. It helps that he hasn’t been drinking that heavily for a long time.’’

  She looked relieved and anxiously waited to hear what else Rey had to say about her father.

  He continued. ‘‘The therapist wouldn’t reveal any intimate details to Simon, you understand, but he was able to say that your father had been unable to deal with a family tragedy. Now that he’s sober, he’s extremely upset about what he did to you.’’ He looked grim. ‘‘He doesn’t remember doing it, Meredith.’’

  She averted her eyes to her coffee cup. For something to do, she lifted it and took a sip of blistering black coffee, almost burning her lip. ‘‘That’s common in cases of alcohol or drug abuse,’’ she murmured absently.

  He studied her over the rim of his coffee cup. ‘‘You won’t be allowed to communicate with him until he’s through the treatment program, but he wanted you to know that he’s desperately sorry for what he did.’’

  She ground her teeth together. She knew that. Her father wasn’t a bad man. Until he’d started abusing alcohol, he’d been one of the gentlest men alive. But, like all human beings, he had a breaking point which he reached when tragedy erupted into his life.

  ‘‘He isn’t a bad man,’’ she said quietly. ‘‘Although I know it must have seemed like it.’’

  ‘‘I’ve seen drunks before,’’ Rey replied. ‘‘My brothers have gone on benders a time or two.’’ He smiled faintly. ‘‘In fact, Leo holds the current record for damage at Shea’s Bar, out on the Victoria road. He doesn’t cut loose often, but when he does, people notice.’’

  ‘‘He doesn’t seem the sort of man who would do that,’’ she remarked, surprised.

  ‘‘We’re all the sort of men who would do that, given the right provocation,’’ he told her.

  She smiled. ‘‘Do you get drunk and wreck bars?’’ she couldn’t resist asking.

  ‘‘I don’t drink as a rule,’’ he said simply. ‘‘A glass of wine rarely, nothing stronger. I don’t like alcohol.’’

  She smiled. ‘‘Neither do I.’’

  He leaned back in his chair and studied her quietly. His hair was still faintly disheveled where her hands had caught in it when he was kissing her, and his lower lip was swollen from the pressure of her mouth. She knew she must look almost as bad. Her hand went unconsciously to her unruly hair.

  ‘‘Take it down,’’ he said abruptly.

  ‘‘Wh…what?’’

  ‘‘Take your hair down,’’ he said huskily. ‘‘I want to see it.’’

  She’d just gotten her wild heart under control, and now it was galloping all over again from that sultry tone, from the dark, intent caress of his eyes on her face.

  ‘‘Listen, I work for you,’’ she began with a tremor in her voice.

  He got up from the chair and moved toward her with a lazy, almost arrogant stride. He drew her up in front of him and started pulling out hairpins. Her hair, unbound, fell in soft waves down her back, almost concealing one eye.

  ‘‘It’s hard to manage when it’s down,’’ she said self-consciously.

  ‘‘I love long hair.’’ He tangled his lean hands in it and coaxed her face up to his. He searched her eyes at pointblank range. ‘‘I’ve kissed girls years younger than you who knew even more than I do. Why are you still a novice?’’

  She swallowed hard. He was making her knees weak again. She couldn’t quite get a whole breath of air into her lungs. Her hands rested on his chest lightly and she felt her heart choking her with its rapid beat as she stared into his narrowed, dark eyes.

  ‘‘What?’’ she asked, barely having heard much less understood the question.

  His hands were exploring the cool length of her hair with fascination. ‘‘You’re not bad-looking, Meredith. Surely you’ve dated.’’

  ‘‘Yes,’’ she said, disconcerted. ‘‘But I’m old-fashioned.’’

  Both eyebrows went up over a cynical smile. ‘‘That’s a pitiful excuse in this day and age.’’

  ‘‘Why?’’ she asked, her clear grey eyes staring up into his with no thought of subterfuge. ‘‘The whole reason for the women’s movement is so that women can have the freedom to do as they please. I’m not promiscuous. Why should I need an excuse?’’

  He blinked. She made his question sound unreasonable. ‘‘I thought sexual liberation was the soul of the movement,’’ he drawled.

  ‘‘Being chaste is sexual liberation, in my book,’’ she replied. ‘‘You’d be amazed how many women in my graduating class practiced abstinence.’’

  ‘‘In high school, I gather,’’ he said absently, tracing the length of her hair with his hands.

  She almost corrected him, but then, she really mustn’t destroy the illusions he had about her as a domestic. ‘‘Yes. In high school.’’

  He moved closer to her, his lean body a sensual provocation that made her breath catch. He laughed softly. ‘‘Care to test the hypothesis?’’ he murmured softly.

  ‘‘I work for you,’’ she repeated, playing for time.

  ‘‘So?’’

  ‘‘So it’s not wise to mix business…’’

  ‘‘…with pleasure?’’ He caught her waist and drew her close. ‘‘It’s been a while since I found a woman so desirable,’’ he whispered, bending to her mouth. ‘‘Experience bores me. You,’’ he bit off against her soft lips, ‘‘are a challenge.’’

  ‘‘Thank you, but I don’t want to be,’’ she whispered, trying to pull away.

  He lifted his head and searched her eyes. ‘‘No curiosity about the great unknown?’’ he taunted.

  ‘‘No desire to treat it as a sophisticated game,’’ she corrected abruptly.

  He hesitated, but only for an instant. His lean hands contracted and then released her. He went back to his chair
and sat down. ‘‘Touché,’’ he said with a curious glance. ‘‘All right, Meredith, I’ll sit here and eat my sandwiches and we’ll pretend that we’re still strangers physically.’’

  ‘‘Good idea,’’ she approved. She reached down for her half-empty coffee cup and put it in the sink.

  He was halfway through a sandwich when she excused herself and went to fluff up the pillows in the living room and put magazines and books back in their places. Leo had left things strewn about before he’d gone to the Brewsters’. She was glad, because it gave her a valid reason not to sit next to Rey with her emotions in turmoil.

  By the time she’d gone back to the kitchen, Rey had finished his sandwiches and coffee and was coming out the door.

  ‘‘You’re safe,’’ he drawled. ‘‘I’m going to change and get to work in the study. Where’s Leo?’’

  ‘‘Having supper at the Brewsters’ house,’’ she told him. ‘‘He said he’d be early.’’

  ‘‘That means he’ll be late,’’ he mused. ‘‘Janie Brewster will have found twenty excuses to keep him talking to her father. She’s one determined young lady, but Leo’s equally determined. He doesn’t want ties.’’

  ‘‘Doesn’t that sound familiar?’’ she murmured wickedly.

  His eyes slid up and down her body in a silence that teemed with tension. ‘‘I never said I didn’t want ties,’’ he corrected. ‘‘ said I didn’t want marriage. There’s a difference.’’

  ‘‘Don’t look at me,’’ she said carelessly. ‘‘I don’t have time for relationships.’’

  ‘‘Of course. All that cleaning must demand a lot of you,’’ he said deliberately.

  She flushed. He had no idea what her life was like on a daily basis, and she wanted very badly to tell him. But he was so almighty arrogant and condescending that he put her back up. She wasn’t going to tell him a thing. He’d find out soon enough.