The Glory Game (10 page)

“Thank you.” She took it, avoiding eye contact and thinking angrily that he probably thought she was a spoiled rich kid
sulking because she didn't get her way. Which was very nearly the truth.

“Good night, Trisha.”

It was the first time he'd used her name, the first time he'd indicated that she was a person, not a troublesome adolescent. Trisha suddenly had hope that something could be salvaged from this fiasco.

“Wait.” Confidently she placed a hand on his arm to detain him. He paused expectantly. “Isn't it customary for a man to kiss a girl good night after he's walked her to her car?”

In the darkness and shadows, his hair appeared more black than umber brown. Trisha caught the small, impatient movement of his head.

A second later, he curved his hand along the side of her neck, fingers sliding into the edges of her chestnut hair, a thumb resting against her jaw. As he bent his head toward her, his face filled her vision. She anticipated the warm pressure of his mouth, her pulse increasing its tempo. When it came, Trisha leaned into him, but it was the gently sweet kiss a man gives a schoolgirl. Frustration sparked her temper, and she pulled away from him.

“Raul, I'm not a virgin!” She curled her hands around his neck to force his head down while she stood on tiptoe to reach it. Ignoring his resistant stiffening, she opened her mouth to devour his lips with demanding passion. She pressed her body against his solid length, stimulated by the feel of his strong thighs against her legs. The taste of him was stimulating, and he wasn't completely indifferent to her. There was an almost instinctive return of her mouth's hungry pressure.

Then his hands were gripping her forearms and forcing them down. When he set her away from him, her pulse was racing and her breath was coming shallow and fast. Aroused, she gazed at him with longing.

“I wish you had been the first,” she said softly.

“That is enough. Spare me from your seduction.” He glowered at her, no longer showing a bland tolerance for her behavior. This time Raul opened the car door and ushered her into the driver's seat.

“We'll meet again,” Trisha told him as he closed the car door.

He paused, leaning on the doorframe. “Somehow I do not
doubt that,” he admitted with a degree of resignation, then pushed away from the car.

“When we do, I'll be older,” Trisha warned.

There was no response. He turned his back on her as he walked back toward the stable. For a long time she sat motionless in the car, watching his retreating figure as the darkness swallowed it up. Her flesh still tingled with the sensation of his hard, muscled body, and her lips with the feel of his mouth. She could taste him yet.

She had meant it when she said that she wished Raul had been the first man to make love to her. Maybe the experience wouldn't have been so humiliating and degrading. She remembered lying on that blanket in the woods, waiting for the boy to finish shedding his clothes. She'd been frightened—Trisha Kincaid Thomas, frightened—from the uncertainty of what to do and what to expect.

Max was supposed to know. He'd had sex plenty of times before—to hear him tell it. She remembered the kissing, the nuzzling, the touching, all the prelude to the moment when he wedged himself between her legs. Everything went wrong from there. He hadn't been able to get it in, and she hadn't known how to go about helping. All that hard jabbing and prodding.

“Push, dammit.” That's what he had said to her.

Then she'd felt the first pain and had tried to pull away from it, but his hands had held her fast and the ground would not give. After that, it all became lost in the agony of searing pain and the slamming of his hips pounding into her and the disgusting sound of his groans.

That had been the last time she went out with Max. Since then, there had been two other boys who had managed to show her there was some pleasure to be derived from sex. Now Trisha found herself wondering what it would be like for Raul to hold her—for him to kiss her breasts and caress her body—the weight of him settling onto her. The thought aroused a quivering ache between her thighs.

Sighing, Trisha turned the key in the ignition, and the motor rumbled to life. As she reversed the small car out of the parking space, she saw the headlights of an approaching car. She supposed it was the veterinarian Raul was expecting. Once on the road, she floored the accelerator, sending the car shooting forward.

*   *   *

By two o'clock in the morning, the last of the guests had departed. The caterers had cleared away most of the debris. Luz supervised the replacement of the furniture with efficiency, but inside she was tight and angry.

Drew wandered into the living room as she directed two of the hired staff who were moving the striped companion chair. “Turn it more to the left.”

“Where's Trisha? Has she gone to bed already? I've hardly seen her all evening.”

Luz was surprised he'd noticed their daughter's absence at all. He'd hardly left Claudia Baines's side for more than two minutes all evening. She'd had to watch them laughing and talking together all night, dancing close together, or Drew's arm so familiarly draped around her shoulders. Then she'd had to stand silently by while he kissed her good night at the door. It all left her cold with rage.

“Her date stood her up, so she's been in her room most of the evening,” she replied stiffly.

“She should be out here helping you.”

“I believe she's finishing her packing.”

“Oh.” He tiredly rubbed the back of his neck. “I could use some coffee. Is there any left?”

“Check in the kitchen.” Luz wasn't about to fetch it for him.

A faintly puzzled frown creased his forehead at her crisp response, but he said nothing. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him walk toward the kitchen. With the placement of a lampstand, the living room was put back in order. A vacuum cleaner hummed in the dining room. To Luz's inspecting eye, there appeared little left for the catering staff to do, except finish loading their equipment into the van.

“I managed to save the last of the coffee before they poured it down the drain.” Drew returned, carrying a cup and saucer in each hand. “I brought you a cup.”

“I don't care for any.” She crossed to the French doors and closed them, checking to make sure they were securely latched.

“Emma said to tell you the kitchen has been cleaned.”

“Good.” Her head was throbbing with tension. She didn't think she could take another minute of this without screaming.
“In that case, you can stay down here and lock up after the caterers leave. I'm tired. I'm going upstairs.”

She left him standing in the middle of the room, staring after her. When she reached her dressing room, she stripped off the two-piece lounger. For once she didn't take the trouble to hang up her clothes but left the crushable pleated outfit in a pile on the floor, adding her black stockings and flesh-colored lingerie to the heap. Her necklace and earrings she dropped on the vanity table. She pulled a narrow-strapped nightgown of green silk over her head and paused long enough in front of the lighted mirror to pull the pins out of her hair, but she didn't bother to remove her makeup. The agitation that pulsed within her was too strong.

Before leaving the dressing room, Luz grabbed her hairbrush. She ran it through her hair as she walked into the bedroom to sit on the edge of the satin-quilted bed. With hard, brisk strokes, she raked the bristles through her hair until her scalp tingled with pain, as if she needed the physical discomfort to alleviate her inner torment.

She could hear the distant murmur of voices coming from downstairs. A door closed. Then she was able to distinguish Drew's voice when he wished Emma a good night. She held the hairbrush in her lap until she sensed Drew's presence in the sitting room. Her door stood open, and she knew he could see her sitting there.

“Everything's all locked up.” He leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, bending one leg.

“Good.” Luz continued brushing her hair.

He stirred, entering her room. It took all her control not to throw the brush at him. “It was an excellent party. You outdid yourself, as usual.”

“I'm surprised you noticed.” She tried to suppress the cattiness in her voice, but didn't succeed.

“What does that mean?” A confused laugh broke from him.

Unable to sit still, Luz stood up and paced restlessly away from the bed. “How can you ask?” The anger simmered just below the surface.

“Because I want to know what you're talking about.”

“How can you stand there and say that after the way you behaved all evening?” She turned on him.

“What did I do?” He lifted his hands in a gesture of confusion.

She didn't want to put it into words, but she couldn't stand his innocent attitude. “You didn't take your eyes off that Baines woman all evening.”

“What?” Drew laughed with incredulous amusement.

“Everyone noticed. It was so humiliating to have people watch me and whisper behind their hands, wondering whether I saw what was going on. You monopolized her the whole time and ignored all the rest of our guests.”

“Luz, that simply isn't true. Yes, I was with her. What did you expect me to do? She didn't know a soul at the party. I couldn't very well let her stand around by herself. As the host, I felt it was my duty to take her around and meet the other guests, so I did circulate. As a matter of fact, I think we talked to everyone there.”

“Your duty,” she said icily. “And what arduous duty it was, I suppose. I'm sure you had to force yourself to laugh and smile all that time.”

“I'm not going to deny that I enjoyed being with her.” There was a slow, patient shake of his head, his smile warm and indulgent. His calmness only increased her frustration and anger. “She made me feel young.”

“Then what do I make you feel? Old?” Luz stalked back to the bed and sat down again.

“Of course not. I was only trying to say that she was fun to be with.”

“And was it
fun
kissing her good night?” She dragged the brush through her hair once, then clutched it between her hands to stare at the bristles.

“I don't believe this,” Drew murmured. “Luz, I kissed practically every woman goodbye when she left.” She bit at the inside of her lip, realizing that was true. He walked over to the bed and sat down beside her, bending his head to peer at her face. “I believe you're jealous.”

“Wouldn't you be? Everyone was making sly remarks.” She flashed him an accusing look. It had all been bottled up inside too long for her to get over the hurt so quickly—imaginary or not.

“I regret that. I'm sorry.” He gazed at her with contrite
affection, yet it was his handsome looks Luz saw—that artful silvering at the temples and the deep cleft in his chin.

Again, the brush absorbed her attention. “Maybe you've had other women since we've been married. I don't know. Infidelity seems to be a male characteristic. But don't ever flaunt an affair in front of me, Drew. I won't stand for it.” She felt she had to say that so that there would be no doubt in his mind.

His hand cupped the side of her jaw, the pressure of his thumb lifting her chin to force her to look at him. “How could there be another woman? After all this time, don't you know how much I love you?”

She softened under his intent regard, the corners of her mouth deepening in a whisper of a smile. “It might take some convincing.”

He leaned toward her and covered her lips in a kiss that grew steadily stronger. Luz relaxed against him, tilting her head farther back to invite more ardent pressure. He obliged for several satisfying seconds before slowly ending the kiss. She opened her eyes to see his heavy-lidded glance follow the trail of his hand as it slid down her neck to finger the string straps of her gown.

“It's been a long time since I undressed you,” he murmured, and he gently pushed the strap on one side, then the other, off her shoulder.

A tremor of excitement quivered through her. It deepened into a wonderful shudder when his hand slipped underneath the lace bodice, cupping her right breast in his palm. Her nipple hardened to a nub in its center. The invasion of his hand forced the material downward, and Luz pressed her arms close to her side to let the straps fall the rest of the way, then slipped free of them.

With the gown loose about her waist, Drew hooked an arm behind her to lift her back until she was lying crosswise on the king-sized bed. The action pulled the gown lower until it was resting on her hips. After that, a single movement of his hand drew it away from her body, the satin gown gliding over the satin quilt to land on the floor.

Drew stepped back to admire her naked figure, lingering over her high, rounded breasts, and her parted legs, while he unbuttoned his shirt and stripped off his clothes. His slow study
of her body made Luz feel hot all over, and aroused. When he moved onto the bed to lie beside her, his muscled body so trim and tan, she watched him in anticipation. His hand stroked her, traveling over the tips of her breasts to the pale, curling hairs on her pubic bone.

“You're beautiful.” He nuzzled her lips as she reached to hold him and feel his warm flesh.

With his hands, his lips, and his body, he worshiped her. It was a wild and heady sensation that made her body hum with need. This intensity of passion was almost a forgotten thing. Yet there was no haste about it. They spent time savoring and enjoying the delight they found in each other. When the coupling came, it was a sweet and fiery culmination that left them both happily drained.

Afterward, Luz lay stretched at full length on the bed, smiling in blissful contentment, the thin sheet drawn across her breasts and an arm flung above her head on the pillow. Drew was beside her, his head cradled on his own pillow. She knew he wasn't sleeping; he was just lying there, as she was, still warmed by the glow of their lovemaking. She turned her head to look at him, staring at the ceiling, his expression lazy and pleased.