An Independent Wife (7 page)

"I wouldn't think so," Greg denied. "I just didn't tell you because I kept hoping I could keep you satisfied on other jobs, but nothing came up. Why?"

"Because I'm going to ask Rhy that same question," she said, and a feline smile curved her mouth at the thought of engaging in battle with her arrogant husband.

Greg leaned back in his chair and studied the suddenly glowing little face, alight with the anticipation of a struggle. For a minute he'd been worried about her, afraid that vibrant energy had been snuffed, but now he grinned in appreciation. Sallie came alive when the going was roughest and that was one of the characteristics that made her one of his best reporters. "Give it all you've got," he said gruffly. "I need you back in the field."

Amanda Meade, Rhy's secretary, smiled at Sallie when she entered. Amanda had also been the secretary of the former publisher and she knew all of the staff-, proof of her discretion was that no talk had circulated about Sallie's private interview with Rhy, for which Sallie was grateful. She didn't want any gossip starting about them or Rhy might take it into his head to jettison her entirely in order to halt the talk.

"Hi, Sallie," Amanda greeted her. "Is there anything I can help you with, or do you need to see the boss?"

"The boss, if he's available," Sallie replied. "He's available for the minute," Amanda confirmed, "but he's got a lunch date with Miss Williams at twelve, so he'll be leaving shortly."

"I won't be long," Sallie promised. "Ask if he'll see me."

Amanda buzzed the inner office on the private line and Sallie listened as she explained the reason for the interruption. After only a few seconds she hung up and smiled again. "Go on in, he's free-and he's been in a very good mood lately, too!"

Sallie had to laugh. "Thanks for the information, but I don't think I'll ask for a raise, anyway!" Crossing to Rhy's office she entered and firmly closed the door behind her, wanting to make certain that none of their conversation was overheard. Rhy was standing by the huge plate-glass window, staring down at the hordes of people below as they surged up and down the street. He was in his shirt sleeves, with the cuff links removed and lying on his desk and the cuffs rolled back to reveal muscular forearms. When he turned she saw that he'd also removed his tie; he looked more like a reporter than a publisher and he exuded an air of virility that no other man could quite match.

"Hello, baby," he drawled, his rough-velvet voice containing an intimate note that made her pulses leap. "It took you long enough to get here. I was beginning to think you were playing it safe."

What did he mean? Had Greg called to warn Rhy that she was coming? No, she'd just left Greg's office, and in any case he wanted her free to go on assignment. Printer's ink ran in Greg's veins, not blood.

"I don't understand," she said curtly. "What do you mean, it took me long enough?"

"For you to realize you'd been grounded," he replied, smiling as he approached her. Before she had a chance to avoid him he was standing before her, his hard, warm hands clasping her elbows and she quivered at his touch. She tried to move away and his grip tightened, but only enough to hold her. "I was going to tell you the night I called, but you hung up on me," he continued, still smiling. "So I waited for you to come to me."

Sallie was blessed with acute senses and now she wished that they weren't so acute, because she could smell the warm male scent of his body under the quiet after-shave he wore. He was close enough for her to notice that he still, after all these years, didn't wear an undershirt, because she could see the dark curling hairs on his chest through the thin fabric of his shirt. She tore her gaze away from his chest and lifted it higher to his cleanly shaven jaw, to his lips, relaxed and smiling, then higher still, to the direct gaze of those dark gray eyes under level black brows.

With supreme willpower she forced her attention away from his physical attractions and said in a half whisper, "Why? You know how much I love foreign assignments. Why did you take me off?. "

"Because I'm not that much of a newsman," he answered dryly, and she stared at him in bewilderment.

He released her elbows and slid his hands warmly up her arms, drawing her with him to the desk, where he leaned against its edge and pulled her forward until she stood between his legs. He was more on her level in that position, and the mesmerizing gray eyes looking directly into hers prevented her from protesting at his closeness.

"What do you mean?" she managed, her voice no stronger this time than it had been before. His fingers were massaging the bare skin of her upper arms and involuntarily she began to tremble.

"I mean that I couldn't stand the thought of sending you into potentially dangerous situations," he explained softly. "South America, Africa, the Middle East are all political time bombs and I didn't want to take the chance that you might be caught in one of them if they explode. Europe-even in Europe there are kidnappings, terrorist groups, bombings in air terminals and on the streets. For my own peace of mind I took you off foreign assignment, though Downey nearly had a stroke when I told him. He thinks you're one of the best, baby. I could wring his neck when I think of the situations he's sent you into!"

"Greg's a professional," Sallie defended huskily. "And so am 1. I'm not helpless, Rhy. I've taken weapons training and self-defense courses. I can take care of myself. Staying here is driving me crazy!

I feel as if I've been put out to pasture! "

He laughed and reached behind her for her braid, pulling it over her shoulder and settling the thick rope over her breast. He began playing with the braid, running his fingers over the smooth twists of hair and the comers of his mouth moved into another smile. "This is quite a mane," he murmured. "I'd like to see it out of this braid and spread across my pillow while I make love to you."

Sallie was rocked on her heels by his words and her cheeks paled. Of all the things he might have said she certainly hadn't expected that! She raised stunned eyes to him and saw his pupils dilated with desire; then he jerked her forward and she lay against him, trapped by the pressure of his powerful legs clasping hers and his arms as they slid around her.

She gasped at the contact of his hard, warm body and, as they always had, her senses began swinuning when he touched her. Fighting for control, she turned her head to him to demand that he turn her loose and he took advantage of the opportunity, fitting her more tightly into the curve of his body with the pressure of his arms, and bending his head down. His mouth was hot and forceful and drugging, and she began wriggling in his grasp, trying to escape from her inevitable response to him as much as she was trying to escape from the man himself. By stretching her willpower to its limits she managed to resist the probing of his tongue between her lips, keeping her teeth tightly clenched. After a moment he lifted his head and his breathing was faster, his eyes still eager.

"Open your mouth," he commanded huskily.

"You know how I want to kiss you. Let me feel your sweet little tongue against mine again."

He lowered his head again, and this time her willpower wasn't up to the demands she made on it. Her senses exploded with pleasure at the touch of his lips on hers and when his tongue moved demandingly she let her lips and teeth part and he gained possession of the sweet interior of her mouth. With a groan he tightened his arms and in response her hands slid up his arms and shoulders to climb about his neck.

Her slim body quivered at the wild storm his kiss was causing, and helplessly she arched against him, gasping her need into his mouth as she realized just how strongly he was aroused.

It had always been like that. From the first kiss they had shared to the last time he'd made love to her, their physical responses to each other had been strong and immediate. She'd never wanted another lover because she'd known instinctively that no other man could arouse her as Rhy did, even now, despite all of the perfectly good reasons she had for not wanting to respond to him. Her body simply did not fisten to her mind, and after a few moments she stopped wanting to protest. She felt wildly alive and drowning at the same time, straining against him even as her senses were overwhelmed by the countless pleasure signals her nerves were giving out.

When he lifted his mouth from hers she was so weak and trembly that she had to cling to him for support. Triumph gleamed hotly in his eyes as he held her up with one arm about her waist and with his free hand he cupped her chin and held it still while he pressed swift light kisses across her face and lips.

"Mmm", he groaned deep in his throat, "that still hasn't changed. It's still dynamite."

His words brought a measure of sanity to her fevered brain, and she struggled to put a little space between them. Yes, it was still dynamite, and it had nearly blown up in her face! She was a fool if she allowed Rhy to use his physical attractions to make her forget the reason she'd come up here.

"Rhy--don't!" she protested, turning her face away as his lips continued to nibble at her skin. "Let me go. I came up here to talk to you-"

"We've talked," he interrupted huskily, his voice going even lower and rougher, a signal which told her he didn't want to stop. "I'd rather make love now. It's been a long time, but not long enough for me to forget what it was like between us."

"Well, I've forgotten," she lied, once again avoiding his kiss. "Stop fooling around! I'm serious about my job and I don't like being grounded because you think that a woman can't take care of herself in a crisis."

He ceased trying to kiss her, but his eyes were impatient as he stared down at her. "All right, we'll talk about the job, then I want the subject dropped. I didn't say that I don't think a woman can take care of herself. I said that I didn't want you in a dangerous situation because I didn't think I could stand it."

"Why should you care?" Sallie demanded in surprise. "You certainly haven't exhibited much concern for my welfare since you walked out, so don't ruin my job by acting concerned now."

Abruptly he released her and she moved several feet away from him. She was glad of the distance; she needed all of her wits about her in order to handle Rhy, and his closeness clouded her brain with erotic fever. "My decision is final," he informed her curtly. "You're off foreign assignment, permanently."

She stared at him and her stomach lurched sickeningly at his words. Permanently? She could more easily stop eating than she could give up the dangerous excitement of the job she loved! He couldn't have thought of anything that would hurt her more if he'd planned this for years. "Do you hate me so much?" she murmured, her dark blue eyes turning almost to black with pain. "What have I ever done to you to make you treat me like this?"

"Of course I don't hate you," he denied impatiently, thrusting a long-fingered hand through his black hair. "I'm trying to protect you. You're my wife and I don't want you hurt."

"Drivel!" she cried, her small fists clenching at her side. "Being tied down is worse than anything that's likely to happen to me on assignment! I'm only halfalive here. I'm going crazy staring at that blasted typewriter hour after hour with nothing coming in my head to put down on paper! And don't say I'm your wife! The extent of our relationship was that we slept together off and on for about a year, then you went your way and I went mine, and I'm a lot happier now than I ever was with you. You were an even bigger flop as a husband than I was as a wife!" She stopped and drew a trembling breath, trying to control the urge to break something, to hit out at him with her fists. Tbough she had a temper she wasn't usually so uncontrolled and she knew that frustration had strained her nerves.

"Flop or not, you're my wife and you'll stay my wife," he stated coldly, dropping the words like stones on her head. "And my wife will not go on foreign assignments!"

"Why don't you just shoot me?" she demanded furiously, her voice rising. "That would be more merciful than driving me mad with boredom! Blast you, Rhy, I don't know why you married me anyway!" she concluded in acute frustration.

"I married you because I felt sorry for you," he informed her bluntly, and the simple statement left her gaping at him in outrage.

"YOU-YOU felt sorry for me?" she cried, and she thought she'd explode with rage. Of all the humiliating things to say to her!

"YOU were such a loneiy little thing," he explained calrnly, as if every word didn't lash at her raw nerves. "And so starved for affection, for a human touch. I thought, Why the hell not? I was twenty-eight years old. It was time I got married. And here was an added bonus. "

"Yes," she snapped, stalking to the window to stare down at the street below, anything to keep from looking at the mocking dark face, the sardonic eyes. "You got protection from all of your pursuing girlfriends!" With relish she contemplated planting a fist right in his mouth, except that Rhy wouldn't let her get away with that. She knew that he'd retaliate.

He grinned at her temper and walked up behind her, so close that his breath stirred the hair at her temple. "No, baby, the added bonus was the way you went wild whenever I touched you. You looked so quiet and tame, a plump little dove, but in bed you turned into a wildcat. 'Me contrast was fascinating."

"I can see you've had a lot of laughs over it!" she blurted, her face going crimson with humiliation.

"Oh, no, I never laughed," he replied, his voice suddenly becoming soft and whispery. "The loving between us was too good. No other woman ever quite matched you. Everything else about you has changed, but not the way you respond."

Her pride stung, she retorted sharply, "Forget about that. It didn't mean anything."

"I think it did. It means I've found my wife again. I want you back, Sallie," he informed her silkily.

Astonishment spun her around to face him, and she stared up at him with eyes grown huge in her small face. "You're joking!" she accused, her voice shaking. "It's impossible!"

"I don't think it's so impossible," he murmured, catching her close to him and pressing his face into her hair. "I never meant to let you go, anyway," he continued, his voice growing low and seductive. She knew that he was consciously using the erotic power of his voice to disarm and attract her, but recognizing his weapons didn't necessarily give her the strength to fight them. She shivered and tried to pull away, but his grip tightened.