Mexican Nights (9 page)

It was all rather mixed up. Not that Terri was really drunk. She had never been drunk in her life. She was only shedding a few of those inhibitions Derek had accused her of having. She was enjoying herself with a vengeance. And then it was very late and she was tired and, with Jack's arm supporting her, they strolled back to their hotel.

With a wide flourish, he held his thumb against the elevator up button. They stepped inside and, when the elevator started up, Terri lost her footing and stumbled against Jack with a helpless giggle.

On four, they got out and Terri said defiantly, "I'm not sleepy yet! The night's young. I want to dance some more."

Jack grinned happily. "We've got a tape player in our suite."

Terri frowned. "Won't Mike be asleep?"

They had reached the room and Jack took a key from his pocket and, after several tries, fitted it into the lock. "We've got two rooms—a bedroom and a sitting room. With the door closed, old Mike won't hear a thing. He wouldn't anyway. When he goes to sleep, it would take World War III to wake him."

He laughed uproariously at his own joke and Terri joined him. He got the door open and stood back for her to enter. "Come into my parlor," he intoned wickedly.

Inside, Terri began to feel slight uneasiness. Hurriedly, she pushed the feeling aside. This was to be an unforgettable night. She'd better remember that. If she kept forgetting, it wouldn't be unforgettable—right?

Jack was shifting some glasses about on a low coffee table. "I guess we're out of anything to drink. I'll call down—"

"No," said Terri. "I'd rather dance. Where are your tapes?"

She found a slow, dreamy tune and put it in the small tape player that sat on a lamp table next to the couch. Then Jack, looking suddenly solemn, was taking her hand and pulling her into his arms. At first, she held herself stiffly; but Jack didn't seem to notice, and eventually she began to relax and drift sleepily with the music. Hazily, she realized that both her arms were around Jack's neck and both his arms were around her waist. She smiled, her head resting against his cheek. It was so warm and comforting in Jack's arms.

"I'd like to dance all night," she murmured drowsily.

"There are a lot of other things we can do besides dancing," Jack whispered huskily, and when she looked into his face, his blue eyes were so warm and friendly that she lifted her lips to his cheek.

Somehow he moved so that his mouth took the kiss. His lips felt warm and gentle—welcoming but not demanding. "Nice," murmured Terri, who was very near to being asleep on her feet.

Jack took this as an invitation for an encore, but this time his kiss was more urgent, and when Terri tried to pull away, he held her locked in his arms and the kiss became definitely demanding.

Finally, she managed to pull away. "Hey, let me come up for air," she said with a breathless little laugh.

Jack pulled her back into his arms. "Don't be coy," he muttered. "You knew there was more on my mind than dancing when you came in here."

She turned her face away. "No—no, I didn't—"

An angry little frown creased his handsome forehead. "Come on, Terri, cut the act."

Suddenly, she was shoved down on the couch, and Jack was on top of her, his lips squashing hers. What had happened to the gentlemanly Jack Ledbetter? Some knight! As Terri tried to twist away from him, slow fury built in her. How dare he hint that she had asked for this! Weren't there any chivalrous men left in the world?

Finally, she couldn't take any more, and, pushing his head away, she let out a piercing scream.

"What's wrong with you? Keep quiet, will you—you want to wake the neighbors!"

Terri shoved furiously at his dead weight. "Let me up, you drunken oaf!" Her flailing hands hit several targets—his jaw, his shoulders, his ear.

Trying to protect himself with his upraised arms, he lurched to his feet. Terri jumped up and ran for the door. Then, remembering her purse, she turned and scooped it up from the coffee table.

Jack had regained his balance and was trying to smooth his blond hair back into place. "Terri, come back here! You're acting like a madwoman!"

She had gained the hall and sped along the silent corridor to her own room, trailing her purse by its long strap behind her. At her door, as she was searching through her purse for her key, Jack caught up with her. He looked sheepish and worried.

"Stay away from me, Jack Ledbetter!" she warned.

"Shh! It's two o'clock in the morning."

"Thanks for the bulletin," Terri sniffed, at last seeing her key at the bottom of her purse. Her fingers closed around it.

"Terri," Jack said in a low, earnest voice, "I don't know what happened back there. I'm sorry—"

"
What, in God's name, is going on out here
?" The voice thundered in the corridor like a sonic boom, and Derek Storm, a bathrobe tied unevenly around his long body, stepped out of the room across the hall.

His dark hair was tousled by sleep and he was barefoot. In spite of his fierce scowl, he looked so comical that Terri started to giggle.

Derek's piercing gaze passed from Jack to Terri, and he looked more disgusted by the second. At last, Terri had managed to get the key in the lock. Still giggling, she opened the door and, staggering inside, she flopped across the bed.

Vaguely, she heard voices in the hall for a few moments, and then Derek pushed his way into the room; unfortunately, she had neglected to shut the door securely.

He turned on a table lamp and stood over her bed, glaring down at her sprawled figure. "You're drunk," he accused.

"Don't be silly," she said between giggles. "I was never more sober in my life." Then, abruptly, she turned serious. "I was never so
humiliated
in my life! I thought Jack Ledbetter respected me."

Roughly, Derek began to unbutton her dress.

She blinked at him. "What are you doing?"

"Sit up," he commanded, jerking her into a sitting position. "I'm putting you to bed. Obviously, you're not capable of doing it yourself." He took hold of the hem of her dress and pulled it over her head. Then she sat on her bed in her half-slip and bra, her hair tousled and falling into her face. She lunged for a pillow and held it in front of her.

"Your research assistant is a—a lecher!" she flung at him.

"Hardly!" he retorted scornfully. "He merely acted upon the signals that he claims you'd been throwing out all evening."

"That's a lie!" Then, overcome with the giggles again, Terri fell back across the bed, clutching the pillow to her breast. "You should have seen him, Derek. I hit him, and he looked so surprised!"

Muttering darkly, Derek tugged off her shoes and began to remove her panty hose.

Too exhausted and tipsy to care very much, Terri lay like a limp rag and rambled. "No, you're right. Jack isn't really a lecher. He just had a little too much to drink. Did you ever notice that cute little dimple in his chin? Actually, he's kind of sexy—" She giggled as Derek jerked at one leg of her panty hose. "Why are you looking so grim, Dr. Storm? You aren't jealous, are you?"

With a growl, he ripped the clinging panty hose off her feet, twisting one of her ankles painfully in the process of freeing that foot from the hose.

"Ouch!" Furiously, Terri kicked out and, since he was bending over her, her foot landed in his chest.

Flinging the panty hose aside, as well as the pillow she was clutching, Derek grabbed hold of her, pressing her back against the bed. "You little vixen!"

Suddenly frightened, Terri squirmed futilely in his hard grip. But he had her effectively immobilized, one knee pinning her legs down, his hands holding her arms above her head.

A sob of frustration caught in Terri's throat. "I—I wish I'd let Jack seduce me. He—he, at least, is gentle and knows how to treat a lady."

"When you start acting like a lady," Derek snarled, "maybe you will be treated as one."

Then, with a harsh cry, his mouth came down on hers in a merciless assault that sent an electric shock sizzling through her body, all the way to her toes. In her mind she fought to resist him, but her wayward body was flooded with a tide of sensations that was stronger than her will. She felt herself being pulled along by the undertow that was like the rush of a collapsing dam.

With a despairing capitulation, she returned his kiss, her mouth opening, inviting, her arms closing around his neck to pull him nearer, her slender half-naked body shuddering in his arms.

He lifted his head to ask huskily, "Do you still wish you were with Jack?"

"No," she admitted in a weak haze. She had smiled, talked, drunk, played her part in the desperate pretense that her evening with Jack was the beginning of a romance—but all the time there had been one thought at the back of her mind, the memory of the moments in Derek's arms that afternoon. Her flirtation with Jack—for she knew that she
had
flirted— had been a frantic attempt to cover up more dangerous thoughts.

It was one thing to vow, when they were apart, never to allow Derek to touch her again; it was quite another to resist him when he held her in his arms. The fierce independence she had cultivated so carefully during the past three years was a weak opponent for the sensual hunger that drove her now.

Staring at her with desire-filled eyes, he said, "I promised to teach you about passion at the right moment. We have all the time in the world now. I've been waiting for hours for you to come back to the hotel."

"You go out in the evenings, why shouldn't I?" she asked, looking at him through her lashes, her senses stirring at the smoldering hunger in his face.

"Only you almost went too far tonight, didn't you, Terri?" he asked mockingly. "You deliberately led Jack on." His eyes blazed. "Were you trying to get back at me?"

"Why should I want to do that?" she retorted, angered by the accusation. "If you wish to chase after Margarite Lopez—if you wish to move in with her— what is that to me? I couldn't care less."

He was very still for a moment, staring down into her eyes. "But you do care, don't you, Terri?" The triumphant note that had crept into his voice sent shivers down her spine.

"No," she denied. "I think you are selfish and cruel and about as capable of faithfulness as a rabbit."

Her sneering words made him stiffen for a few seconds, and then a knowing smile touched his lips. Terri felt a warning tremor and tried to sit up. But he pushed her backward onto the bed and his hands began a warm exploration of her body.

Her head moved from side to side in futile denial of the ache that was filling her, clamoring for assuagement. His fingers closed over one half-exposed breast and caressed her slowly, causing an involuntary arching of her body that thrust the soft fullness harder against his palm. Her own soft moan mingled with his satisfied whisper. "How lovely you are, Terri—when you are not insulting me."

His fingers slipped a thin strap off her shoulder. For a moment his burning gaze devoured the firm young flesh, and then his head came down slowly until she could feel his warm breath on her skin. His mouth began a sensual exploration, seeking out the sensitive skin beneath her earlobe, tasting the secret hollow at the base of her neck, blazing a trail of fire in the valley between her breasts. The deep sensuality so long pushed down by Terri simmered dangerously, spreading a near-ecstatic pleasure to every part of her body as it trembled with a rawness that was like silk being drawn across exposed nerves.

A tormenting desire flooded through her, as her mind whirled with conflicting emotions. No man had ever touched her like this before. The shattering new yearnings he evoked were sweet—and terrifying. She remembered how he had caught Margarite Lopez in his arms earlier that day, that he had spent the evening with her. Had he lain with her like this? Had his hands and lips reduced the Mexican actress to a willing vessel for his domination? The image that rushed into her mind—of Derek and Margarite together like this— caused her to struggle to reach the lost ability to deny him.

Gasping, she pushed at the experienced, intimate hands and lips that were drawing such bittersweet responses from her body. "No!" she said fiercely.

"Stop fighting your feelings," he said between his teeth. "You don't really want to deny me."

"What's the matter?" she said bitterly. "Did Margarite kick you out without satisfying your—appetite? Well, you can't take out your sexual frustration on me! My contract with your publisher doesn't cover this sort of thing!"

He looked down at her angrily, his eyes hardening. Then, abruptly, he let her go and sat up, running his hands through his hair roughly, still staring at her.

His jaw tensed as he fought for control. "What kind of game are you playing, Terri?" he said, breathing harshly.

She shook her head. "I'm not playing, Derek. I won't deny that I was tempted. But my good sense will always win out over momentary emotional impulses. I won't go to bed with you because it isn't worth the price."

He smiled mirthlessly. "Don't knock it unless you've tried it."

She watched the angry color flush up under his dark skin, and she met his furious gaze without flinching. "No sale, Derek. I can be as stubborn as you are."

He got to his feet and, swearing savagely, ripped back the bedspread and threw it over her. "Keep your precious favors then! You are the coldest, most calculating female it has ever been my misfortune to meet!" His face contorted with bitterness.

"I think you'd better go, Derek," she said quietly, drawing the spread protectively up to her chin. "As you are so fond of reminding me, tomorrow is another working day."

Derek stared down at her and his face slowly drained of color. Harsh lines carved themselves into the stone of his face. He secured his bathrobe with a jerk of hands that shook, sent a dismissing glance over her, and walked to the door.

Hand on the knob, he said, "I will expect you in my suite at eight in the morning—ready to work. That will give you almost five hours of rest—plenty, I am sure, for a dedicated professional like you."

Surprisingly, Terri did fall asleep quickly, too exhausted—both physically and emotionally—to sift through the tumble of her thoughts. She slept deeply and awoke with a nagging headache, undoubtedly the result of the unaccustomed drinking she had done the night before.