Silver Miracles (7 page)

Trinity didn’t add that hearing his response to the unknown Melissa had made her realize that she wanted no part of an affair with him. She refused to put herself in the position where one day it might be her on the other end of the phone. She would rather be the one to say good-bye— now—before she became any more involved than she already was with this strange, hard man.

"So?" Chase crossed his arms over his chest, not attempting to hide his nakedness. "Is love so important to you that you’re going to try to deny what’s between us?"

"Yes, love is important to me." Her eyes blazed a bright, vivid green and her brown hair was disheveled from having Chase’s hands run through it over and over. "And I’m not going to deny that there’s something between us. Only a fool would try. But there has to be something more for me. Desire without love is nothing more than a profanity."

"Then, baby, if what just happened between us is profane desire, I’ll take all I can get." The tone of his voice was hard and cold, and Trinity turned away from him, trembling with an uncommon hurt.

"You were wrong to assume that just because I—"

"That’s the truth!" He bit out each word savagely. "I should have known better than to assume anything about you."

"It’s no use, Chase. I won’t have an affair with you. What happened tonight was more than inevitable, but it won’t happen again."

Rough arms swung her around, and consuming lips ground into hers. Grasping his shoulders to keep from falling, Trinity could not stop the traitorous need in her body from leaping to a life of its own, and she clung to him as if the survival of her world depended on it.

Nonetheless, when he pulled away and held her at arm’s length, Trinity, white-faced and shaking, gathered her strength and reiterated carefully. "Chase, I’ve got a daughter to raise, a farm to run and a living to make. I don’t have time to become just another dalliance for you. Now, are you going to take me home, or am I going to have to walk?"

Chase raked impatient fingers through his hair and pounced over to the phone. Jerking it up, he viciously punched out two numbers. "Bring the Lincoln around," he barked to some unfortunate person on the other end of the line before he slammed the receiver down and pulled on his pants.

#

The big white Lincoln glided through the night, smoothing the bumps out of the still-incomplete shortcut that connected their two farms.

Trinity sat huddled in the corner of the front seat, tense and silent, trying not to speculate on why he wasn’t taking her home in the Lamborghini. Had her objections about the other car reached him after all? Did he really care what she thought? And what did it matter to her if he did?

Pulling to a halt in front of the farmhouse and killing the engine, Chase reached over to hold her door closed, preventing the hasty exit she had planned.

He was very close, and his breath fluttered warmly over her face, as he whispered softly, "I want you, Trinity Ann Warrenton. Again and again. Now . . . I’ve laid my cards on the table. It’s your turn. You tell me: What’s it going to take to get you?"

Trinity shook her head sadly. "Oh, Chase. We obviously don’t even speak the same language."

"Our bodies do," Chase avowed softly, provocatively, bringing his hand up to trace her slightly swollen lips with the tips of his fingers.

Trinity’s gaze wandered over Chase’s hard-boned face, stopping to dip into the smoldering blue depths of his eyes, trying to fathom the man. Even now, she could feel her body’s need for him, and she knew if she said the word, he would turn the car around and take her back to his house as fast as the Lincoln would go.

But she couldn’t do that. Her feelings were too confused—she just wasn’t sure how she felt about Chase. Was it possible that she could be in love with him? The thought was staggering!

The only thing that she could really be sure of was that he didn’t love her. That knowledge alone should have been enough to completely turn her off. Unfortunately, it wasn’t. Still wanting him, she opened the car door and got out.

And later, in the loneliness of the night and in the chasteness of her bed, Trinity tried very hard to believe that she had made the right decision.

Much to Trinity’s surprise, the next few days turned out to be alternately interesting and infuriating, amusing and annoying—starting with the following afternoon, when a delivery van pulled up in front of the house.

The sign on its side proclaimed the van to be from a florist shop in a nearby town, and Trinity, who had wandered to the door, watched curiously as a man in his early fifties approached carrying a vase of red roses, with a younger assistant following behind, carrying two more vases of roses.

Reaching the porch, the man peered suspiciously over his black-rimmed glasses. "I have a delivery for a Miss Trinity Ann Warrenton. Is that you?"

"Yes." Trinity admitted dubiously. "Can I help you?"

The man’s face cleared immediately. "I’m Jasper Briggs, from Briggs Florist," he informed her genially. "These are for you. Where do you want them?"

"All of them?"

"Yes, ma’am. All three dozen."

"Well. . . any place will do, I guess." She opened the screen door, taking a pile of Stephanie’s books off a nearby table and pointing. "Right here will be fine."

The young assistant started to put down the two vases he carried, but jumped as his boss bellowed, "Be careful! Those vases are gen-u-ine crystal." Turning to Trinity, he confided, "That’s why we were a little late delivering them. We had to scour the countryside for those vases. This was a very unusual order, and I don’t mind telling you, I’ve been a little nervous about it."

"Really?" Trinity viewed the roses with a new cynicism.

"Yep. Here you go, little lady. This card and package go with the roses."

Trinity didn’t like the uneasy feeling she was getting. "Would you mind waiting outside, please?" she requested coolly. "I’d like to get you something for your trouble."

Once alone, she tore into the glossy sliver paper and viewed the green velvet box with a sinking heart. Sitting down abruptly, she couldn’t seem to stop the tremors that shook her hands as she opened the lid.

A gasp escaped Trinity’s lips. There before her, nestled on a bed of green velvet, was a pair of stunning emerald earrings. And gleaming brilliantly below them, a matching emerald pendant lay swinging from a delicate gold chain.

Ripping open the card, she read the bold black scrawl. "A dozen red roses for each day I have known you and an emerald for each night. Chase."

Trinity sat quietly, stunned. What was Chase doing? She had been very clear when she had told him she wouldn’t go to bed with him again. The man obviously didn’t believe in taking no for an answer—no doubt fostered by years of having everything his own way, especially where women were concerned.

A not-so-discreet cough from Mr. Briggs out on the front porch roused Trinity from her reverie. She plucked a couple of dollars from her purse and called the men back in.

"I’ll keep a dozen roses, but everything else is to be returned to the sender—including all three vases."

"But . . . but . . ." Mr. Briggs was obviously shocked.

"Everything else!" Trinity’s green eyes were glacial.

"Okay, okay," the man muttered. "But that boyfriend of yours is going to be one unhappy gent."

#

Trinity got an indication of just how unhappy that was, the next evening, when the roar of the Lamborghini spilt the quiet of the night and interrupted the quilting she was doing.

It was after ten, and Stephanie was already in bed, fast asleep. Trinity herself had taken a bath earlier, and now—wearing only a thin terry-cloth robe, her skin soft and glowing, her hair piled on top of her head—had decided to quilt for an hour or so before going to bed.

She hadn’t yet locked the front door for the night, and Chase stepped into the room before Trinity had a chance to get halfway to the door. He was wearing a dignified, heather-blue three-piece suit, although the darker blue shirt had been relieved of its tie and the first three buttons had been undone.

Chase presented a virile elegance in the cozy front room of Trinity’s home, and her movements across the floor became suspended as she watched him walk toward her.

At the first sight of him, her heart had surprised her, leaping into her throat as it had. As long as she hadn’t been able to see him, her resolution to call their relationship off had been fairly easy. Now, however, their awareness of each other seemed to arc across the room, touching each of them with an electrifying jolt, and Trinity’s pulse raced out of control as Chase stopped in front of her.

"How are you?" The velvet softness of his voice reached out to stroke her, even as his long fingers came out and gently touched her face. The contact burned, and Trinity stepped away.

"I—I’m fine. How are you?"

Such banality, when she knew very well that that was not what they wanted to say to each other.

"I’m tired," Chase flatly pronounced. "It’s been a long two days, and I’ve just gotten back from Dallas."

"And you came straight here?" Trinity turned and walked to the front door, stopping to stare out into the blackness of the night. It was better than looking at Chase.

"Yes," he admitted simply. "I missed you."

She could tell by the sound of his voice that he was walking toward her, and his next words came from directly in back of her.

"I’ve missed the look"—his hands grasped the soft flesh of her upper arms through the peach-colored terry cloth—". . . and the feel . . . and the smell . . ."—his mouth came down on the sensitive cord that ran along the side of her neck— ". . . and the taste of you."

His mouth nibbled hungrily up her throat to behind her ear, and Trinity couldn’t stand still a minute longer. "Stop it," she groaned, and wrenched herself out of his grasp. Retreating to the relative security of the rocking chair, she sat down, holding her forehead in her hand, not meeting Chase’s eyes.

However, seconds later, Trinity looked up in surprise as a black velvet case was thrown summarily in her lap.

"Diamonds," Chase informed her succinctly. His hands were rammed into the pockets of his slacks, and his blue eyes roved intently over her face.

Trinity’s stunned silence filled the room. Finally, she managed to ask faintly, "Why?"

Chase’s mouth twisted into a wry grin. "I thought you might like diamonds better than you did the emeralds. There are five of them, by the way."

For the first time, Trinity was able to see some humor in the situation, and she began to laugh, a liltingly lovely sound. "No wonder your affairs are so short-lived, Chase! You can’t afford to know a girl too long."

"Don’t be ridiculous," he snapped, throwing himself into a nearby easy chair, but the harshness of his words was relieved by the unexpected indulgence she could see in his eyes as he looked at her.

"What is it you want. Chase?" Trinity asked quietly. "I told you I wouldn’t see you again. Can’t you just leave it at that?"

The silver weight of his head lay against the back of the chair, and his eyes were heavily lidded. "No," he told her softly. "I can’t leave it at that."

"I told you my reasons—" Trinity began.

"Which didn’t make a hell of a lot of sense," Chase finished for her, his eyes wandering down to her legs, which were crossed at the knee and revealed by the parting of her robe.

"They made perfect sense to me." Trinity pulled her robe closed.

"For a lady with such puritan ethics," he mocked, "you sure are fantastic in bed."

Damn him! Why did he have to bring that up, when she was trying so hard to forget it.

"Chase, go away! We lead different types of lives. There would be no hope for any kind of a relationship between us other than some tawdry little affair."

"There would be nothing tawdry about an affair between you and me." Suddenly, he loomed before her, gripping her arms and pulling her up against him. The case containing the diamonds slid from her lap onto the floor, but neither of them noticed. "There was a sweet, hot beauty to the way our bodies reacted to each other, and you can’t say there wasn’t!"

His lips were mere inches away from hers, and Trinity could feel the hard maleness of him through the layers of their clothes. It took a terrible effort on her part to keep on resisting him.

"It’s no use. Chase. I won’t sleep with you again."

"You didn’t sleep with me"—he laughed harshly at her euphemism—"however much I wanted you to."

His grasp lightened, turning into a tender caress, and his eyes roved hungrily over her face. "Oh, Trinity," Chase murmured huskily, "you really are a wild thing, aren’t you?" The velvet was back in his voice, sheathing the sharpness, turning her limbs to water and breaking down her resistance almost completely. "I’ve never met anyone quite like you before. You live life in your own special way."

"Chase . . . I—"

"Okay," he ground out abruptly, just as if she had asked something of him, and pushed her gently away. Running his hand around the back of his neck, Chase absentmindedly massaged the tense cords he found there. "I won’t try to pressure you into my bed, at least for a while."

"What do you mean?" Her tongue circled her suddenly dry lips.

"I mean," he stated grimly, "that we’ll try it your way. We’ll date."

"You’d be willing to do that?" Trinity was astonished. Chase Colfax, she knew instinctively, was not the sort of man who made concessions easily.

"I’d be willing to do that," he repeated wearily.

"And no more gifts?"

He bent over and picked up the black velvet case, tapping it against one hand and regarding her thoughtfully. "You don’t even want the ones I’ve already given you?" he asked, as if he couldn’t understand her reasoning.

Trinity shook her head emphatically, causing Chase to smile slowly and ever-so-charmingly at her. "All right. I’ll keep them for you."

Dear God! When he smiled like that, he was nearly impossible to resist. What was she letting herself in for?