Rexanne Becnel (32 page)

She tore her gaze away from him and folded her hands tightly. She was ten times a fool to think such maudlin thoughts, she told herself sternly. Under different circumstances he wouldn’t have paid her the least attention. She was hardly the flashy sort that appealed to him. She wasn’t at all like that blond woman she’d seen him with. No, he’d only paid this much flattering attention to her because she had opposed him and presented him with an obstacle to overcome. It behooved her to keep that in mind.

Restored by the memory of the hurt and humiliation she’d suffered at his hands, she quashed any weakness she felt for him. But it was nonetheless a long and exhausting meeting. By the afternoon she was no nearer winning a sufficient number of board members to her way of thinking than she’d been when she first walked in the door.

When one of the members called for an early adjournment, citing the coming evening’s reception, Lacie was surprised by Dillon’s agreeableness. She was more than relieved to escape the oppressive confines of the meeting, for she desperately needed to rethink her position. Tomorrow they would vote, she worried as she rose to leave. That meant she had to convince the other members to oppose Dillon’s ambitious plans. And she had to find a reason for them to oppose it that affected all of them, not just her. That would be difficult, however, because even she could see the logic of his proposal. His plans for expanding the companies would make her a very rich woman if she went along, she realized. But such wealth would cost her the one thing she most wanted—Frederick’s school. It was a depressing, seemingly impossible situation.

She was so caught up in her dismal thoughts that she did not notice the men milling around and slowly exiting in front of her. But when a hand caught her arm, preventing her from leaving, she knew at once whose warm grasp it was.

“I’ll thank you never to touch me again,” she hissed as she tried to free her arm.

“Careful, now,” he taunted in a husky whisper. “You don’t want to reveal to everyone what a devious little witch you are.” He chuckled and pulled her back from the doorway and into the empty boardroom. “After all, you’ve been working so hard to perfect your image as the sweet little widow.”

“No harder than you work to appear the well-mannered gentleman!”

“But I
am
a well-mannered gentleman.”

“And I
am
a sweet little widow!”

It sounded ridiculous as soon as she said it. She’d meant it to sound scathingly sarcastic, since he knew the truth about her even if he couldn’t prove it. But the words were no sooner out of her mouth when he let out a low chuckle. She herself had to fight back a smile that suddenly threatened to rise unbidden to her own lips.

“Ah, Lacie,” he murmured, pulling her nearer now with a hand on each of her upper arms. “Such a sweet, sweet little widow.” His face lowered toward hers, and her stomach lurched in instant awareness of him. “Such a sweet, sweet little liar.”

Then his mouth found hers, and for an earth-shattering moment their lips clung together. It was a hot, searing kiss, made even more so by the complete unexpectedness of it. She had worked so hard to bury these wicked feelings she had for him, to hide the terrible desire that seethed within her. Yet with one kiss, with one tender touch, he had brought them rising to the surface, boiling over the edge until she was scalded with their intensity.

His lips moved sensually across hers. His teeth lightly tugged at her full lower lip, and then his tongue smoothed over it. Like the sleekest silk, the warmest velvet, he seemed to enfold her within his embrace, seducing her with that steadily heating kiss. Then his tongue slipped between her lips to meet with her own.

Lacie felt the shock of his kiss down to her toes. Everywhere she reacted: her heart pounded painfully in her chest, her blood roared like heated lava through her veins, and her stomach twisted and tightened, turning over deep inside her.

She leaned against his chest as the kiss deepened, wanting this security and warmth more than ever. Yet even as she accepted him, going more and more pliant against his hard masculine frame, she knew it could not be. Like an irritating voice, reality pricked her, reminding her—taunting her—with the knowledge that what he wanted and what she wanted were incompatible. What his kiss promised was physical pleasure. What her kiss sought was love. The two could go hand in hand, but only if both of them were willing. But love was not a part of Dillon’s scheme, she knew.

With a small moan she turned her face away from his, but Dillon only moved his lips to her neck, moving in small torturous kisses from just below her jawline and down the soft sensitive skin to her collarbone. She gasped as his tongue made small circles at the base of her throat.

It would be heaven to just give in, the aberrant thought came into her mind. Just to give in and enjoy being with him. It would be wonderful, even more than it had been before, she conceded to herself as his hand moved to her waist and pressed her intimately against him.

But afterward it would be even worse.

Only that thought gave her the strength to disentangle herself from his adamant embrace. Even then, however, he did not let her go completely but only let his palms slide down her arms to grab hold of her hands.

They stood thus, a little apart, her face flushed and her breathing coming hard and fast. Dillon’s eyes were bright upon her, vivid with a desire she recognized uncomfortably well. In dismay, she tried to tug her hands free, but he only tightened his hold and stepped nearer, pressing her palms against his chest.

“Ah, damn, but you are enough to tempt a saint.” His eyes stared down into hers with an intensity that frightened her. She wanted so badly to see love there, yet she knew better than to read anything into his avid gaze. He wanted her, she told herself bleakly, but that was not the same as love. Still, the warmth in his eyes, the beguiling smile that curved his sensuous lips could almost be…

Lacie averted her eyes, terrified of where her thoughts were leading her. She must not be misled by wishful thinking, she had to remind herself. That would only lead to disaster.

“We already know you’re no saint,” she murmured in a quiet wavering voice.

“Nor, thank goodness, are you.”

He went to put one hand around her again, but this time she prevented him, twisting away and freeing her hands from him. She took a step back and stared up at him with eyes wide and a dark, stormy gray.

“I may be no saint, but I know better than to court the devil.” Then she had to bite her lower lip to still its trembling. She turned abruptly, blindly groping for the door as tears sprang unbidden to her eyes. She had to get away from him.

To her enormous relief, he did not try to stop her. It was only when she reached the door that he spoke at all.

“You may fight me. You may run from me. But one thing you cannot do, Lacie, is deny the pull we both feel so strongly. Call me the devil if you wish, but you are just as surely the devil’s mistress.”

As she ran from the room, his words seemed to echo all around her. In her head she tried to deny it, to shout down everything he had said. It wasn’t true—it wasn’t!

But her heart knew the truth. Her heart felt that pull even more strongly than her body, and it was her heart that could not deny him.

T
HE ENGRAVED INVITATION READ
eight o’clock. Lacie, however, did not plan to arrive before eight thirty, or perhaps even nine. After all, she reasoned, it was not a dinner where everyone must be present to sit down at a prescribed hour, so there was really no rush. She would go up to the Palace ballroom for the board members’ reception only after it was safely filled with people. The last thing she wanted was to find herself alone with Dillon.

She paused while rolling up her good pair of silk stockings. Dillon once more consumed her every thought, indeed he had not been out of her mind since she had fled his presence after the board meeting. Over and over she had relived those passionate seconds when he’d kissed her and broken down her meager defenses. As if he were with her still, she could feel his arms around her and his body pressed hard against hers. She could taste his kiss on her lips, and she had only to close her eyes…

Lacie caught herself before she could imagine what else they might have done, where their fervent love-making might have taken them. To think about that was surely to court disaster!

And yet, trying to put him out of her mind was driving her quite mad.

With a frustrated sigh she pulled her garter over her foot, then slid it up and positioned it just above her knee. Then she stood up and shook out her slip. If she were planning to arrive late, why was she dressing so early? She had bathed and brushed out her hair as soon as she’d returned to her room. Then a maid had come to lace up her corset and arrange her coiffure.

The girl had done a truly remarkable job with her straight thick hair, Lacie thought as she examined herself in the vanity mirror. From a center part her hair was softly drawn back in two large waves, partially covering her ears but still allowing her ear bobs to show. A little above the nape of her neck, all her hair was caught up in a large knot, the shining mass woven through with velvet ribbons sewn with jet beading. Several large loops of hair hung down the back of her neck, twisted with the shining beads, and she held a small hand mirror up to catch the full effect. It was the most cunning of styles, at once both demure and striking. It was the perfect touch for the wonderful black dress she and Ada had made.

She put down the mirror and stared once more at her pale reflection. She had only to don her half-crinoline, tie on her shoes, and step into her dress to be ready. Yet it was not even eight o’clock. How was she to pass the time?

Certainly not by thinking about Dillon, she vowed earnestly. She picked up the crinoline and absently fastened it about her slip. She pulled the ribbons snug at her waist, then straightened it so that the wired portion was situated properly in the rear. She was fiddling with the lower ties when a firm knock sounded from the door.

At once Lacie’s heart was in her throat. Who would call for her at this hour? Before she could gather her thoughts, the knock came once more—four sharp raps that sounded almost authoritative, so obvious was the command in them. Then she knew who it was, and her knees suddenly became so weak that she had to sit down on the bargello-upholstered settee.

Why, why, why? She shivered as she thought of Dillon standing just beyond that thin paneled door. He was so near, and she wanted him so badly.

The knock came a third time, louder than before. “Lacie, I know you’re in there. Answer the door.”

“Go away.” She hardly wanted him to, but anything else would be quite insane. “Go away!” she insisted with more strength.

There was a brief silence from the door, but Lacie knew he was unlikely to leave so easily. When he spoke, his voice was lower and far more compelling.

“I’ve come to escort you to the reception, Lacie. I didn’t want you to have to enter alone.”

She wrapped her arms tightly about her waist. Her heart thundered in her chest, and her palms grew damp. Her voice was less than steady when she answered him.

“I don’t mind arriving alone. And—and anyway, I’m not ready yet.”

Again the unnerving silence as she strained to hear his reply.

“Perhaps I can help you dress.” This time there was a dark warmth to his voice that set all her senses clamoring. She leaped up from the settee in agitation and looked madly about for her wrapper. But then he was speaking again, and she stopped and whirled around to face the door.

“If you were considering coming late, I recommend you change your plans. As the two major stockholders in the family of companies, it’s only natural that you and I act as host and hostess tonight.” When she didn’t answer right away, he rattled the doorknob. “Lacie? Answer me.”

“N-no,” she managed weakly. Then she crept nearer the door, holding her hands protectively around her tightly cinched waist. “I’m not ready. And I won’t play the hostess for you!” she added with much heat.

He let out a low chuckle. “Do you think you could answer a question honestly?” He did not wait for her reply but continued on. “Just tell me: do you direct this obstinance at everyone you meet as much as at me? Or am I alone the one you vent your stubbornness on?”

“Only you!” she snapped in quick anger. “You’re the only one who torments me. And you’re the only one—” She trailed off in a mixture of confusion, anger, and humiliation.

“Well, I suppose I should feel flattered.” The door creaked slightly as if he had leaned against it. “But no matter your obstinance, I have to insist that you finish dressing and come upstairs with me now. You would otherwise appear most impolite.”

“To whom? You?”

“Not to me, Lacie. You should know by now that I like nothing better than to cross swords with you. Well, almost nothing,” he added, causing her to stiffen. “It’s all the other board members I’m referring to—the ones you desperately need to court if you’re to best me in the vote tomorrow. They’re the ones you risk offending tonight.”

Lacie didn’t know how to answer that. Did they all expect her to play the part of hostess? Was that one of those unwritten rules of business etiquette of which she knew nothing? She floundered between her suspicions of Dillon’s motives and her fear of losing tomorrow’s vote because of a social blunder. But Dillon gave her no time to make up her mind. Once more he rattled the doorknob.

“Let me in, Lacie. I’m tired of arguing through this door.”

“Then go away. I’ll—I’ll be there in good time.”

“No doubt you’ll understand that I don’t believe you. Fortunately, I have a key that opens every door in the hotel.”

“No!” she shrieked as she dashed for the door. She grabbed the handle, holding on for dear life. “Don’t you dare open this door,” she warned, truly frightened now. Her only protection lay in surrounding herself with other people and never being alone with him. But if he should come into her room! In desperation she tightened her hold on the doorknob.