No Red Roses

by Iris Johansen

  Tamara shivered uncontrollably, and Jenny glanced at her curiously. "Are you cold?" she asked. "Perhaps you'd better go back to the car and get a jacket. There's no telling how long it will take to run down our hosts at this little clambake." Jenny seemed to feel none of the chilling emanations that were plagu­ing Tamara, and her voice was cheerful.

  Tamara shook her head and made an effort to shrug off the cold lethargy that was beginning to invade her. "I'm fine," she said lightly. "Perhaps a goose walked over my grave." She made a face. "Speaking of graveyards, this has got to be the spook­iest place it's ever been my misfortune to encounter. I can't understand your fascination with ghost towns, I'm sorry to say."

  "Do you find it frightening?" Jenny asked, her eyes widening in surprise. "I think these old towns are just wonderful." She gazed around with infinite satisfaction. "They have such a lovely, nostalgic atmosphere."

  "I guess I'm becoming a bit imaginative," Tamara said, her violet eyes twinkling. "It goes with the territory when you've lived all your life with a psy­chic like Aunt Elizabeth."

  They'd come almost to the end of the street with­out seeing any signs of life, much to Tamara's fer­vent relief. Perhaps a little further search and she could persuade Jenny to return to the car and leave this weird place.

  "There it is!" Jenny clutched her arm suddenly and pointed to a building on their left with a broken seesaw in the front yard.

  "But that's a schoolhouse," Tamara protested, with an obscure sense of shock. "And it seems as de­serted as all the other buildings."

  "It was a schoolhouse," Jenny whispered, her voice tense with excitement. "But that was over a hun­dred years ago. It would be ideal as a meeting place for any large group. Besides, I'm sure I saw a flicker of light at that right front window. Come on, let's see if we can get closer."

  She was already moving silently toward the win­dow and Tamara reluctantly followed her. The win­dow was almost completely covered by a thick layer of dust and for a moment Tamara could see nothing. Then, with a chill chasing down her spine, she saw the flickering lights Jenny had mentioned.

  "They must have candles," Jenny whispered in her ear. "Can you hear anything they're saying?"

  Tamara shook her head. The barely distinguish­able figures in the room were curiously shapeless and their voices almost entirely inaudible.

  Suddenly the door opened and a large, black-robed figure stepped outside, not ten feet from where Jenny and Tamara crouched. Her heart suddenly pound­ing in her breast, Tamara groped for Jenny's hand and began pulling her away. Despite her earlier excitement, Jenny showed no reluctance to leave now.

  The figure had turned slightly so that his back was partially to them, and Tamara and Jenny hur­ried down the street as quietly as they could. By the time they could see the glimmer of the shiny, cream- colored Mercedes, they were practically running. Ta­mara fully expected to hear the sounds of pursuit behind them any second.

  Jenny reached the driver's side of the car several yards ahead of her, and fumbled at the door while Tamara tore around the hood of the car to the pas­senger door.

  "Ugh!" The pained masculine grunt as she rammed full steam into a hard male body sent her into a panic. Instinctively, she knotted her fist and punched with all her strength. The man's torso was iron hard, but she must have hurt him for he staggered against the side of the car. She had only a moment to feel a sense of smug satisfaction before he straight­ened, grabbed her by both arms, and shook her until her head flopped like a rag doll.

  "You damn little idiot, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

  "Rex?" she gasped unbelievingly, but there was time for no more.

  They suddenly heard a shout coming from the direction of the schoolhouse. Tamara looked over her shoulder to see a number of dark figures with flickering candles, moving down the main street in their direction.

  Rex swore violently and tugged open the passen­ger door. "Take off, Jenny," he said sharply. "I'll bring Tamara in my Ferrari. We'll meet you at the turnoff for the ranch." He slammed the door and the Mercedes took off like a Grand Prix contender.

  Rex grabbed Tamara's arm and urged her into a dead run to where the yellow Ferrari was parked by the road. She could hear him cursing steadily under his breath all the way to the car, and he almost pushed her into the passenger seat before jumping in the driver's side and taking off with a screech of tires. They nearly went off the road as he made a U-turn and took off after the Mercedes.

  Tamara looked back over her shoulder and her breath caught as she saw that their pursuers had reached the spot where the Ferrari had been parked just a moment before. Then the shadowy figures disappeared as the car clocked over ninety miles an hour.

  With a sigh of relief she sat back in her seat. "I can't see them any more."

  "We're not home free yet," Rex said coolly. "They might decide to get their cars and chase after us,"

  "Do you think they will?" Tamara asked anxiously, biting her lip. The last twenty minutes had been a nightmare. Now all she wanted to do was wake up into the bright daylight of sanity.

  He shrugged. "Time will tell." His foot pressed down on the accelerator and the sports car's speed increased.

  They were right behind Jenny when she pulled over to the side of the road at the turnoff for the ranch. Rex halted the Ferrari and opened his door. "Stay here!" he ordered.

  He crossed to Jenny's car and spoke to her for a moment, then returned to the Ferrari. Jenny's Mercedes had already made the turn and was speed­ing in the direction of the ranch when Rex put his car in gear and drove back onto the road, heading in the direction of Las Vegas.

  "Aren't we going to the ranch with Jenny?" Tamara asked, startled.

  "No, we are not," Rex said emphatically. "I told Jenny we'd phone her from the apartment." He drew a deep breath. "Now please shut up and let me cool down. I'm on the brink of shaking you until your teeth rattle."

  Tamara was about to remind him angrily that he already had when she glanced at his expression, illuminated dimly by the dashboard lights, and decided to hold her tongue. She'd never seen him so angry. His face was hard and taut with rage. There was a tiny muscle jerking in his jaw, and the dark eyes were positively blazing. She noticed he was wear­ing the white shirt and dark suede pants in which he usually performed. He must have left directly after the show without even stopping to change.

  It was the first time since the night she'd met him that he'd shown her the tough ruthlessness beneath his easy charm; she had to admit to herself she was a little intimidated. The rest of the drive was made in silence that made Tamara distinctly uneasy.

  When they entered the apartment, Rex said curtly, "Go into the living room. I’ll join you after I call Jenny."

  Tamara wandered into the luxurious, white-car­peted room and strolled to the bar at its far end. She was trying to decide if she really wanted anything to drink when Rex strode in. He didn't share her indecisiveness. He stalked immediately to the bar and poured himself a double.

  "Is Jenny okay?" Tamara asked hesitantly. The cooling-off period Rex had mentioned evidently hadn't succeeded in improving his temper. It was clear it was still at a white-hot pitch.

  He drank half the whiskey down in one swallow. "Jenny is always all right," he said, with a grimace. "It's everybody around her who goes through hell."

  "That's not fair!" Tamara retorted defensively. "How did we know there would be trouble at Lucky Creek tonight? We were just going to look around a bit and then get out before anyone saw us."

  He crashed his glass down on the bar. "You wan­dered blindly into a deserted ghost town at midnight, not knowing what creeps or weirdos you might run into! What kind of wide-eyed idiots are you?" His mouth tightened. "Or perhaps you did it deliberately. You were mad as hell with me at breakfast. Was your little jaunt a ruse to worry me half out of my mind?"

  "No!" Tamara cried, shocked. "I was angry at you, but I only wanted to get away for a little while. I never intended any of this to happ
en. How did you know where we'd gone?"

  "Elementary, my dear Watson," Rex quoted causti­cally. "When you didn't show at the apartment for dinner, I just thought you were still upset. It wasn't until you missed the show that I began to get worried. I went back to the apartment to look for a note and after rummaging around, I found Jenny's ghost- town map." He took another long swallow of whiskey. "You'll be pleased to know that you scared the hell out of me. You see, I'd had Scotty check out that group with the local authorities in case they tried to make a nuisance of themselves. It seems they're not a legitimate coven at all. Most of them are affluent jet-setter types out to get a few kinky thrills by hav­ing their orgies and cocaine parties under the guise of a satanic cult." He looked up, his dark gaze stab­bing into her. "Do I have to tell you what they had in mind for you when they sent that invitation?"

  "No," she said, feeling suddenly a little sick. Rex was right. She and Jenny had been insane to take such a terrible risk. It had all seemed so safe and amusing when Jenny had suggested it, but now she wondered how she could have been so abysmally naive.

  "Then the climax to the entire lousy evening," Rex continued silkily. "After driving hell for leather through the desert to rescue you, I arrive at the scene only to be knocked breathless by you when you run into me. To add insult to injury, you then give me a punch to the solar plexus that just about put me out of commission!"

  "Oh!" Tamara guiltily covered her lips with her hand. "I forgot about that," she said in a small voice. "I'm very sorry."

  "I suppose I really should be grateful for small favors," he said. He strolled leisurely around the bar to stand before her, legs spread apart and arms folded across his chest. She'd thought when she'd first seen him in that outfit that he looked like a bucca­neer. The effect was doubly intensified now by the aura of danger surrounding him. "You haven't even thanked me for that marvelous getaway."

  She smiled slightly. "Thank you, Rex," she said obediently.

  "You're welcome," he said tersely. He grabbed her wrist, turned, and strode across the living room, dragging her behind him.

  "Wait! Where are we going?" she asked as she hurried to keep up with him.

  "I'm going to let you prove how grateful you are," he said curtly as he threw open her bedroom door. "But first I'm going to put you in the shower. I make it a practice never to take to bed a woman who looks like she's been cleaning chimneys." He ran a finger down her cheek and held it up to show her the dust on it.

  "It must have been when I was looking in the window of the schoolhouse," she muttered absently. Then the entire meaning of his sentence sank in. "What do you mean you're taking me to bed?" she exclaimed. "What about the commitment? What about the responsibility?"

  "To hell with the responsibility," he said as he pulled her into the adjoining bathroom. "Anyone with a wicked body punch like yours can damn well take care of herself!"

  He started the shower, then turned back to her. She stared at him bemusedly while he impersonally unbuttoned her black shirt and undid the front catch of her bra. He next unfastened the band that held her hair in place and the silky, dark mane tumbled over her shoulders. She was suddenly poignantly aware of the overpowering warmth and hardness of him in the confines of the bathroom. She could feel her heartbeat accelerate as he stripped her of the shirt and bra as if she were a lifeless mannequin. His face was closed and expressionless and suddenly she couldn't bear it.

  His hands were on the waistband of her jeans now, and she reached out to stop him. He looked up, a frown crossing his face.

  "Rex, I'll do anything you like," she said quietly, "but please, not in anger."

  His face remained expressionless as he gazed into her pleading eyes. "That's up to you," he said coolly. "Persuade me."

  She felt a sense of shock at the bold words, and for a moment she didn't know how to comply with his demand. Then her hands hesitantly went to his shirt and slowly started to unbutton it.

  "I think you need a shower too," she said huskily. She unbuttoned the last button and took a step closer to ease it over his brawny shoulders. Her aroused nipples teased him as she worked the shirt with painstaking slowness down his arms. She heard his sharply indrawn breath and watched with mount­ing excitement the leaping pulse in the hollow of his bronze throat. She was suddenly enjoying this. She stepped back and swiftly stripped off her jeans and the tiny bikini panties beneath. She stepped under the shower and let the water cascade over her, but she didn't close the frosted shower door.

  Rex stood staring at her as if mesmerized as the flowing water turned her hair into a glossy seal-like cap and pearled in iridescent drops on her shoul­ders and breasts. "Lord!" The cry broke from him with guttural violence. His face was no longer expres­sionless but flushed and taut with need. It took only seconds for him to shed the rest of his clothes and join her under the spray, closing the shower door after him. The narrow confines of the stall forced them in breathlessly close proximity and suddenly Tamara's boldness vanished as if it had never been.

  She looked up, her eyes wide and hesitant, and met his almost blindingly intense gaze. "Rex?" She didn't know what she was entreating, but whatever it was she knew it must come from him. Everything must come from him. She stepped closer and slipped her arms about his waist and buried her face in the rough dark hair on his chest.

  Suddenly she heard a rumbling chuckle beneath her ear, and his arms slid lovingly around her and pulled her to him, branding her with his hard need. "Damn it, sweetheart," he said wryly, as he wound one hand in her hair. "I stepped into this shower stall expecting to be seduced by a violet-eyed Lilith and I find a young Juliet in my arms."

  She hugged him closer, relieved at the thread of tenderness running through the words. "Give a girl a chance," she said huskily. "I'm a fast learner. I only need practice."

  He tilted her head back and kissed her lingeringly, his tongue licking teasingly at the drops of water beading her lips. "I intend to give you plenty of that," he said thickly. His warm tongue lazily stroked the pulse point in her throat before moving down to tease her pink-crested breasts with quickening intensity.

  Then he was sliding down her body to kneel be­fore her. "Open for me, sweetheart," he ordered hoarsely, his hands gently prying her thighs apart. "I want to come in." One hand reached behind her to cup her buttocks while the other crept between her thighs.

  He pressed his head to her belly, rubbing it in a nestling motion against her softness. She gave a low moan that was more of a gasp as he began a slow teasing stroking that set her afire. It was incredibly arousing, standing there with the warm, sensuous water cascading over her breasts like gentle caress­ing hands, while Rex's own hands were doing these fantastic things to her lower body.

  His lips were nibbling softly at her belly now, his tongue stroking her navel teasingly while his fingers kept up that torrid rhythm that was causing her to arch against him in a fever of need.

  "You're dewing for me again, babe. I can feel it." He kissed her belly softly. "Lord, I'd love to see it." He chuckled. "But I don't think I'd better right now. I'm about ready to explode just from touching you."

  Then he was on his feet, both hands cupping her buttocks and lifting her to his loins. She gave a strangled cry as he rubbed her with a slow, teasing rhythm against his iron-hard arousal, before clutch­ing her to him so tightly that she gave an involun­tary moan.

  "Sorry, love," he gasped. His arms were shaking as he carefully put her down and pushed her away from him. "We'd better get out of here before I start demonstrating a few of the more advanced positions in the Kama Sutra. You haven't even tried the basic ones yet!"

  He briskly opened the shower door and whisked her out, enveloping her in a huge, white, bath towel and rubbing the rough terry cloth over her with swift, gentle hands. When she would have taken up another towel to return the favor, he shook his head ruefully, and said, "Best not, babe!" He dried him­self quickly and then, picking her up with the eager boldness of a corsair claiming his plun
der, carried her to the bed.

  In the hours that followed, Tamara at last under­stood her aunt's odd remark regarding the music in Rex Brody. Every movement was a symphony as he built her responses to a feverish pitch of mindless need. His lips brushing teasing butterfly kisses on her throat and shoulders was a delicate pianissimo of sensation, his gentle nibbling on her swelling breasts and inner thighs was crescendo. And then he parted her legs to enter her and show her the mind-shattering ecstasy of the final fortissimo.

  Even later, as he held her tenderly against him, cradling her still damp head in the hard hollow of his shoulder, she felt the gentle, golden notes of a passionate contentment.

  "Was it really good for you, babe?" Rex's words, rumbling beneath her ear, surprised her out of her euphoric bemusement.

  "You know it was.” She sighed happily. "You must be one helluva lover, Rex Brody." Her index finger idly traced patterns in the springy dark hair on his chest. "Of course, I'm really too much of an amateur to judge."

  "Nonsense!" He chuckled. "Your opinion is proba­bly much more valid because you haven't had other samplings to confuse you! But you're quite right, I am a fantastic lover."

  She looked up, knowing she would see those mid­night eyes dancing with mischief. "Was it as good for you?" she asked uncertainly, suddenly worried that she'd been so bedazzled by her own pleasure she'd imagined his insatiable response.

  His eyes were suspiciously bright as he looked down at her face. "Oh, babe," he said huskily. His hand lovingly traced the smooth line of her cheek. "Oh, dear heaven, babe!" And somehow his very inar­ticulateness was most satisfying.

  Rex drew the covers up about them and then laid her head on the pillow, bending over with his arms on each side of her. His dark eyes flickering, he said hoarsely, "Rest for a bit, sweetheart. It's going to be a long athletic night." A glint of mischief appeared as he added, "And then we just might take another shower!"