Renegade (8 page)

“We were both irresponsible,” he bit off. “This was stupid. But you started it.”

She sighed. “Oh, Lord, it's the hair shirt and the flail,” she murmured, throwing herself onto her back.

He couldn't believe he'd heard her say that. He glowered at her. “I am not marrying you!” he continued angrily. “But if there's a child, I'll be responsible for it. And I'll want to know!”

She stretched, drawing the sheet deliberately down to her waist so that the rosy tips of her breasts were visible. She knew
he was looking at them. It made her feel odd. Sensuous. All woman. She'd never felt like that in her life. She felt as if she belonged to someone, for the first time in her life. She smiled to herself. “Will you, really?” she murmured, glancing at his set features.

He couldn't help looking at her. He drew in a harsh breath. “You have the most beautiful breasts I've ever seen,” he said involuntarily.

She kicked off the covers and arched up to give him a better view. “How about the rest of me?” she asked huskily.

“I'll die trying to forget.” He turned away again.

“Why do you have to?” she asked. “I haven't asked you for a single thing.”

His eyes closed. “I don't want ties,” he said harshly.

“Fine. Don't expect me to buy you one for Christmas.”

He glanced at her and bit off a laugh. “Damn it!”

She stretched lazily. “Wouldn't you like to stay until dawn?” she asked.

“It wouldn't do any good if I did. I'm wasted. And I imagine you are, too.”

She sighed. “A little.”

His eyes were involuntarily possessive.

“All my friends have lovers, and they say that no man can do it two times in a row,” she remarked.

One eyebrow rose. “They're right.”

She stared at him.

He shrugged. “Abstinence,” he said stubbornly.

She kept staring at him.

He cleared his throat. “Abstinence and the right woman.”

Both eyebrows went up.

“What do you want from me?” he asked quietly.

That put things in perspective, because he had suspicion written all over him.

“I have money in the bank,” she pointed out, pulling the cover back over her slender body. “I don't have lovers. Except this once, of course. I don't need a cook or a bodyguard. Draw your own conclusions.”

He'd been fielding women for years because he was rich and it usually showed. It did here. But Tippy was right, she had money and fame—although in her line of work there was no such thing as job security. She had no reason to want him. Except for himself. Or for sex, he amended, recalling that she'd never made it with a man of her own volition. Was that the draw? First time euphoria?

“That's it, of course,” she said, as if she could see into his mind. “You're my first real lover and I'm over whelmed by how good it was. So naturally I'm panting to keep you around as long as I can.”

He glared at her. “Stop that. I don't like people reading my mind.”

She shrugged. “Okay.”

“And this was a one-night stand. Period.”

“Then why did you want me to get pregnant?” she asked reasonably.

His eyes widened. He hadn't realized… He really glared now. “Men say all sorts of things to women to arouse them!”

“Ah. So that was it.” She nodded. “Nice touch. It really raised the threshold.”

“I'm leaving,” he said coldly.

“I noticed.”

“I'm going home.”

“I'll send you a Christmas card.”

“There isn't time. It's day after tomorrow.”

“In that case, Merry Christmas.”

“Yeah. You, too.”

“Are you going to say goodbye to Rory?” she asked.

His hand hesitated on the doorknob. He hadn't thought about Rory. The boy was looking forward to Christmas Eve with him.

“We can be civil to each other for one meal. For Rory's sake,” she said. She smiled. “I promise not to bend you back over the dining-room table and have you in the mashed potatoes and corn-bread stuffing. If that helps.”

He wanted to yell. He wanted to laugh. He didn't know what the hell he wanted. “I'm leaving.”

“You said that,” she said, unspeakably delighted. He was confused, overwhelmed, totally at sea, and she knew why. He felt something for her. Something powerful. Now he was going to fight it to the bitter end. But somehow she felt an optimism that she couldn't ex plain.

“I'll be back for lunch,” he said finally. “Just for lunch. I'll be packed and ready to leave town after.”

“Okay.”

He hesitated. He looked back at her with dark, quiet eyes. “I didn't hurt you?”

“Of course not,” she said softly.

He sighed. Some of the anger drained out of him as he looked at her in the pale light. “Even at the last? I was rough. I didn't mean to be.”

“I know that. I wasn't afraid. It was glorious!” She managed to smile. “I never thought…” She shrugged. “It was…almost unbearable.”

He nodded. “For me, too.” His eyes narrowed as he studied her. “But it was still irresponsible. I should have used something.”

“I'll remind you next time,” she promised.

The glare was back. “I've told you, there isn't going to be a next time!”

“That's what you said this time.”

“I'm really leaving.”

“Don't speed,” she chided.

He gave her a cold glare and slammed out of the apartment. Below, she heard the roar of a wildcat and the furious acceleration out of the parking spot. No wonder they called them Jaguars, she thought, wincing at the screeching tires.

 

T
IPPY DANCED AROUND
the apartment, cleaning and polishing and cooking, feeling happier than she'd ever been before. She was crazy about Cash. She couldn't get the forbidden images out of her mind as she relived over and over again the feverish pleasure of his body against hers in bed.

Hiding it from Rory was difficult. He wouldn't understand what was going on. Or he might. But she didn't want Cash to become lessened in the boy's eyes. She didn't want him to think that Cash had taken advantage of her, or hurt her.

“You're cheerful today,” Rory commented when she took the turkey out of the oven.

“I feel good,” she mused.

“Nice date last night, huh?” he murmured, his eyes twinkling.

“Nice,” she agreed.

“We heard some maniac drive off about dawn,” he mumbled without looking at her. “There are some pretty bad tire tracks in front of the apartment.”

“Cash and I had a…disagreement,” she said without meeting his eyes. “Just a little one. He's still coming to dinner today.”

“Sis, he's not exactly what he seems,” Rory said, solemnly for a nine-year-old. “He's had some really hard knocks and he has no close friends at all.”

“Your commandant knows him. I forgot.”

Rory nodded. “I'm crazy about Cash. But I don't want you to get hurt.”

He was saying things she'd only thought. Hearing them made her stiffen. She was living in a fool's paradise. She'd seduced Cash, she was daydreaming about happily ever after. And her nine-year-old brother knew what was going on better than she did. Was she actually thinking that an outcast who'd lived an outcast, dangerous life would rush to get involved with a woman? Especially after a disastrous marriage that had left mental scars he was still carrying?

Cash wasn't thinking about happily ever after. He'd even said so. He hadn't wanted to touch her in the first place. She'd played on his weakness and his need. She'd led him right to her bed and he hadn't been able to resist. But that didn't mean he loved her. Not even that impassioned husky plea for a child meant love. It meant that he was lonely and jealous of Judd Dunn and hungry for a child. But…what if he was hungry for Christabel's child? Did he still love her? Had he submitted to Tippy's advances out of rejected desire for a woman he couldn't have?

The whole face of things changed in an instant. She went cold. All the joy drained out of her like rain out of clouds. Rory actually winced. “I'm sorry,” he said. He went to her and hugged her, as hard as he could. “I'm sorry!” Tears stung her eyes. She was too proud to shed them. She held her little brother close and felt cheated. Absolutely cheated.

“We're going to have a great Christmas,” she said after a minute, wiping away the tears unobtrusively to smile down at him. “You want to cook the biscuits?”

“You want to be able to eat them?” he shot back.

She laughed. She and Rory had always been a great com
bination, even from the age he'd been when she'd acquired him from her mother.

“That settles who cooks, I guess. If Cash shows up while I'm in the kitchen, you can entertain him.”

He gave her a wry look and wiggled both eyebrows. “That's my department, all right. Let's see if I can find my juggling balls and my top hat…”

She tossed a dishrag in his general direction as she turned to get out flour and olive oil and milk. When she was alone, her face fell. She had no idea if Cash would even show up, after all, despite his affection for Rory. The prior evening had been an unmitigated disaster and it was totally her fault. If she hadn't put Cash in a position where he had to do something about their mutual physical attraction, they might still be friends. And from there, she might have captivated him for real. Now her dreams of happiness had boiled down into a furtive night of passion, which Cash with his greater experience would dismiss as he'd said he would—a one-night stand.

If only, she thought, she could go back and undo the major mistakes of her life. But the only way open was the future.

 

C
ASH DID SHOW UP
, just as Tippy was chewing off her nails with everything already on the table.

Her heart skipped as the buzzer sounded. Rory ran to see who it was, and Cash answered.

“I'll buzz you right in!” Rory enthused, pushing the button.

Tippy was wearing a simple pair of emerald velvet slacks with a white silk top, her hair tied back with an emerald green scarf. She looked festive, but casual. She didn't expect that Cash would dress up.

And she was right. He was wearing black again—slacks,
T-shirt and leather jacket. He looked at her with out seeing her, and forced a smile for Rory's benefit.

“It looks great,” he said.

“It's nothing fancy, just plain food. Sit down. Rory, say grace,” she murmured quickly, taking her place.

Rory did, glancing furtively from one adult to the other with a long sigh.

It was a quiet meal, compared to the ones that had gone before. Tippy felt terrible, because she'd ruined not only her Christmas and Cash's, but Rory's as well. They ate in a long silence until everyone was finished.

“I offered to make the biscuits,” Rory told Cash, “but she said she wanted to be able to eat them afterward.”

Cash chuckled. “Are you that bad a cook?”

“Not with most things,” Rory said. “But I have a hard time with bread.”

“Me, too,” Cash confessed. “I used to make a pass able biscuit, but these days I just buy them in tins and heat them up.”

“Tippy doesn't. She does them from scratch.”

“A woman of talent,” Cash said without looking at her.

It was a good thing. She went scarlet and jumped up to get the cherry pie she'd made and open a small pint of vanilla ice cream to top it with.

Her hands shook. Cash saw it and cursed himself for losing his head the night before. She was taking the blame for everything, when it was his own damned fault.

She fixed three bowls of dessert and passed them out with a frozen smile. “This is a bake and serve pie. I didn't have time to do one from scratch, but these are pretty good.”

“Everything was good, Tippy,” Cash said, his voice deep and apologetic.

She didn't look at him. “I'm glad you liked it.”

He ate his pie, feeling two inches tall. She was going to blame herself for everything. After he left, it would be even worse. She'd convince herself that she was little better than a call girl, and she wouldn't go near him again.

He blinked, amazed that he knew her that well. He'd accused her of reading his mind, but he could see right into her own. It was eerie. It was as if they were…connected.

“This is really good, Tippy,” Rory said. “Want me to wash up?”

“I don't mind,” she said at once.

“Let Rory do it. I want to talk to you,” Cash said firmly, getting to his feet.

“I really should—” she protested.

He caught her hand and pulled her into the living room, out of sight of the kitchen. He looked down at her solemnly.

“Nobody's to blame,” he said firmly. “It just happened. Don't beat yourself to death over it. Whatever happens, I'll handle it.”

She swallowed and then swallowed again. She couldn't look at him without hearing his voice, husky and deep at her ear, while he whispered to her in the darkness.

He framed her face in his hands and forced it up to his searching eyes. He winced when he saw her eyes.

“Let me go, please,” she whispered, tugging away from him. “I'm not a child. You don't have to worry that I'll…that I'll chase you, or anything.”

He felt sick to his stomach. He'd done untold dam age, much worse than he'd suspected. “I never would have thought that.”

She moved back, forcing a smile. “I hope you have a good trip home. Please tell Judd and Christabel hello for me. I expect she's very happy now, with a husband who wants her and two
little babies to look after. She's going to make a wonderful mother.”

“Yes, she is,” he said, and he couldn't help the tenderness in his voice. Christabel had been special to him.

Tippy knew that, and she was jealous. She hated her self for it.