Guardian Angel (12 page)

“I am,” she said breathlessly, and smiled. Her brother's friend might have an obsession for numbers, but he was very nice. If it weren't for Trace, maybe she could work up more enthusiasm for another man. David was tall with stylishly cut brown hair. And his eyes were hazel flecked with gold.

His hold on her was firm, but deferential. She preferred that. The only man she wanted embracing her as if he'd never let go was Trace. The man who'd opened her up to her own femininity and made her like it.

It was useless, she realized. Here she was, her head bent toward the floor in a dip with David's face inches from hers, close enough to kiss.

It could have been a romantic moment, but her primary concern was the crick in her neck.

Trace entered the packed tavern and glanced around. It would have been wiser to stay at home, but something had driven him to the bar that night. More like someone. Someone Italian with dark hair, wide brown eyes and a smile that drove him wild.

After making his way to the bar, he ordered a Scotch. There weren't any seats, so he remained standing and gave a brief nod to one of his foremen. Lots of cowboy hats tonight, he noticed.

His gaze traveled to the wooden dance floor. People had moved aside in honor of a couple in the center. An unfamiliar man held the woman in a deep dip. Her long hair swung close to the floor as she held tight to her partner's shoulders. Trace stared hard, then his heart slipped to his feet as he recognized Talia.

A fist of anger formed in his belly. His first instinct was to rush across the floor and rip Talia from the man's arms. But the voices around him penetrated the haze of anger, reminding him that this was a public place. If he did what he wanted to that guy, there would be witnesses. He would be put away for life.

He took a long swallow of Scotch and looked away. His glance landed on a nearby table. Only one person occupied it, and there was something familiar about the man. Trace stared at him long enough for the guy to feel it and return the stare.

Remembering the picture in Talia's living room, Trace walked toward the man. It was Kevin, he realized. And with Talia entertaining the professor, it was the perfect time for him to meet her brother.

“Would you mind if I sit here for a minute?” he asked.

“Sorry, my sister and—”

“—your professor friend from MIT are using these seats,” Trace finished, and watched faint surprise cross Kevin's face.

Kevin met his gaze, then turned away. “Yeah.”

A hard case, Trace thought, but sat down anyway. “Talia's told me a lot about you. I've been looking forward to meeting you.”

Kevin took a swallow of beer, but still didn't look at Trace.

“I'm Trace Barringer.”

“I know.”

Trace raised an eyebrow. “How?”

Kevin's mouth firmed. “Your sister, she's got the same green eyes.”

“I haven't seen her much lately.”

“Join the club,” Kevin said, and finally looked at Trace.

It was then that Trace saw he was dealing with a man, not a college boy. Kevin had a man's eyes. If what Talia said was true, his abrupt entrance into manhood had been horrendous. If what Talia said was true, Philip was responsible. But even though that issue couldn't be settled in Gus's Bar that night, others could.

Trace changed the subject. “How'd you end up with blue eyes?”

Kevin shrugged. “They say I look like my dad.”

They say. Trace caught the unspoken. Kevin had never known his dad.

“I hear you've got a scholarship,” he said, and took another drink of Scotch.

Kevin set his own drink down and turned to Trace. His young face was a study of barely controlled impatience. “What do you want?”

Trace didn't pause one second. “Talia.”

A spark flared in Kevin's eyes, and his hand tensed around his glass. “Forget it.”

Trace just shook his head.

“She wouldn't look twice at a Barringer.”

Trace heard the bitterness, saw the pain behind the words. Kevin felt betrayed. “I think she said something like that about a month ago.”

Kevin relaxed his grip on his glass and nodded.

Trace knew he was going to have to hurt Kevin even more and wasn't happy about it. Still, it had to be done if Talia and he were going to move ahead. “Talia's done a lot more than look twice at me since then.”

Kevin's eyes narrowed dangerously. “You'd damn well better watch what you say about my sister.”

“I could say a lot more,” Trace continued calmly. “You see, I'm in love with her.” He smiled grimly to himself. He hadn't even said the words to Talia. “And I think she feels the same way about me.”

“You're crazy. If you were important to Talia, she would have told me. Our family isn't like yours. We don't keep secrets from each other.”

Trace sucked in a hard breath. That last statement was better than a poison-tipped arrow. He had wondered if the fact that Talia wanted to keep their relationship secret meant he'd misinterpreted her feelings.

“And you're a Barringer.” Kevin practically spat out the name.

Fierce family loyalty warred with regret over Kevin's tragic experience. “My name is Trace, not Philip.”

Kevin shrugged. “Same difference.”

The match lit on Trace's temper. A hundred years ago, he and Kevin could have battled this out in a much more satisfying manner. Trace leaned forward across the table. This fight was going to get dirtier before it got resolved. “You've got Talia fooled.”

Kevin sat up straighter.

“She's proud of you,” Trace continued. “She brags about you so much, I'd never have thought you were so narrow-minded. Especially if you were ever in love with my sister. It takes a strong man to overcome what you've been through.” He gave Kevin an appraising glance. “Maybe Talia overestimated you.”

Kevin gritted his teeth. “You bastard.”

Trace ignored the insult, seeing the shaken confidence beneath Kevin's manner. “She's afraid of what you'll think. You're important to her.”

“And I suppose you expect me to turn my head,” Kevin said tightly.

“No. I'd just like you not to sabotage our relationship. I want to make Talia happy.”

“I don't think you can.”

“But I do. I'm willing to make amends with you. I can't make you accept our relationship, but I won't let anyone stand in our way. She's too important to me.”

The band slid into a slow lover's tune. Looking toward the dance floor, Trace saw the professor pull Talia closer. He was aware that Kevin was watching him. The hostility was still there, warring with something else he couldn't read.

He turned back to Kevin. “I'm a tolerant man, Kevin. But if you bring any more men home for Talia, I might have to do something rash.”

Not waiting for a response, he stood and walked over to the dancing couple. “Excuse me,” he said with what he thought was remarkable control, considering how close the man's hands were to Talia's hips. “I'm cutting in.”

David looked up in surprise, stopping midstep. Trace used the moment to pull Talia into his arms and away from David.

Talia naturally fit her body to Trace's while her mind came to an abrupt halt. She stared up at him. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking out for my interests.” He said the words lightly, but his jaw was clenched and his hands held her tight. “I had a little chat with Kevin.” And he'd gotten mixed results at best. He suspected Talia wasn't going to be happy.

“You told him about us,” she said accusingly.

“I knew it would be too hard for you to tell him. It had to be done.”

“You should have waited.” Talia looked over Trace's shoulder, desperately seeking Kevin. Oh, he must be so hurt, she thought. She caught her brother's gaze and searched for some sign of his feelings. His face was set in a dark, forbidding frown. Her heart dropped to her knees. “He's hurt and angry.” She tried to work free, but Trace held her firmly.

“He'll get over it. He's got to think it through.” Trace felt a sick knot of desperation in his gut, knowing that if she pulled away from him, it would slice him in half.

She remained stiffly in his arms, torn between running to Kevin and staying with Trace. Still, after just one day, she'd missed Trace so much, she ached. She watched Kevin deliberately turn away and speak to David, then the two men left the bar. “Maybe I should go too,” she whispered around a throat swollen with unshed tears.

“What will you tell him, Talia? That there's nothing between us?”

She closed her eyes. “No. I'd have to tell him the truth.”

The tension inside Trace eased. “That's what I did. He deserved to know.”

“I know, but it hurt him. It hurt him terribly.”

“It's a shock right now. You need to give him time to get used to the idea.”

She looked at him. “Do you really think so?”

Lord knows, he hoped so. Instinct told him that Kevin would ultimately be fair. “It might take some time, but I think he'll come around.”

She swiped at the dampness around her eyes. “You're right. He had to be told and it would have been too hard for me to do it.” She touched his cheek. “I've missed you.”

The simple words made his heart swell. He tucked her head beneath his chin and wrapped his arms around her. “Did anyone ever tell you you're hell on a man's nervous system? When I first came in here I was thinking about murdering your professor.”

Jealousy. Talia identified the emotion easily. And she cared too much for Trace to cause him any pain. “He's a good dancer,” she said, and felt Trace stiffen. Pulling back a little, she gazed into his eyes. “But the whole time I was in his arms I kept wishing it was you.”

A fierce expression swept over his face. “I
need
to be alone with you.”

She shook her head. “I do too. But I've got company and you've got Robby.”

His brows drew together in a frown, then smoothed out. “I know where to go,” he said, and drew her closer. “But for right now, guardian angel, just dance with me.”

Her heart soaring at the simple request, she folded herself closer to him, feeling her apprehensions melt away.

And dance they did, setting off sparks with their slow movements. She would always remember this song, not for the words, but for the way Trace held her. The way he smelled and felt would be imprinted on her mind with this melody in the background. His lips caressed her hair while she rested her cheek against his shoulder, one hand over his heart. Denim rubbed against denim as their thighs pressed close.

Trace inhaled deeply and squeezed her hips. “You know,” he murmured in her ear, “you never have told me what kind of perfume you wear.”

In spite of the fire that he was building within her, she smiled. “The English translation is—”

He shifted positions, fitting her more snugly into the cradle of his thighs. Her breath caught as he lightly pushed his erection against her.

Her knees lost their starch, and she gripped his shoulders. He grinned that maddening smile. He could see what he was doing to her.

After all this time, though, she was determined to tell him now. Call it retribution for how easily he seduced her. Call it frustration. Call it whatever. She stretched up on her toes and said in a husky voice timeless with feminine lure, “Ecstasy. It's called Ecstasy.”

His hands wrapped around her arms like steel bands. “We're in public and you're pushing it.”

“You asked,” she pointed out, then continued, improvising as she went. “The exact translation, I believe, is ‘ecstatic soaring into the heavens.'”

He was barely moving, but she could see his pulse pound in his temple. His face was flushed, his lips tight.

She was tired of dancing. Edgy, breathless, needy. She watched him battle for control, wanting him to lose it as she had so many times. Had the tables turned? If so, why was she having a hard time forming coherent thoughts?

“How high do you want to go, Trace?” she asked.

His gaze was like a hot flame. “As high as we can, Talia,” he replied in a rough voice.

It awed her that they were so responsive to each other. They needed to be together, but it was more than just physical. It came from deep within as if their hearts, their very souls, longed to couple. The only choice was the full merging of their bodies.

He stared at her lips with such intensity, she would swear she'd been kissed. Taking her hand, he stepped away from her. “Are you ready?”

She nodded.

After guiding her from the bar, he folded her into his Corvette and started up the engine. He took time out for a kiss that made them both a little crazy, then slammed the car into gear.

Talia desperately wanted to touch him. She could hardly bear the distance between them.

“Hold on,” he said, sensing her frustration, and placed her hand on his hard thigh. They hit the only two red lights in town. Trace used the delays for more kisses, each time letting his hands drift over her shoulders, breasts and hips before he pulled away. Each time the low tense ache inside her tightened.

She studied his face in the brief gleam of oncoming headlights. His expression was intense, his eyes dark. His muscles bunched beneath her hand. She stretched against the confining seatbelt and brushed her open mouth on his neck. He exhaled a long ragged breath, but didn't move away.

“I can't get close enough,” she murmured.

“You will,” he promised, shifting into fourth. “Touch me.”

“I am,” she said, damning time because it seemed to stand still.

He shook his head and led her hand to his heat. Holding her palm over his hard arousal, he squeezed, then returned his own shaking hand to the steering wheel. The feel of his need against her made her dizzy. She stroked, mindless of where they were. Her breathing quickened with his. Vaguely, she noticed the car take a sharp turn, then another.

Trace wrenched the 'Vette to a stop, then hauled Talia to the door of the Barringer cottage. It was pitch-black, and he cursed the seconds it took to find the key.

She leaned against him and raced through the door with as much urgency as he. Closing the door with his foot, he immediately turned to her, kissing her. She pulled at his shirt. He pulled at hers, losing a few buttons on the oak floor in the process.

“This is crazy,” he murmured against her neck, then swept his mouth to her breast.

She cried out, and he immediately stepped away. “Am I hurting you?”

“No,” she said, and unbuckled his belt with trembling hands. “Trace, I just want you so badly. Don't make me wait.”