SNOWFIRES (10 page)

“
You, you had that ready? Were you so
sure?” Should she be angry he’d taken her for granted or thankful
he came prepared?

“
Princess, I’m a man sharing a bed with
a beautiful woman. How could I not hope I’d need this? Besides,
remember last night. I always keep some in my travel bag for, um,
an emergency.”

Quickly he slid the condom on and returned to
her. Their hot, savage joining left them cleaved together long
after the waves of climax passed. Trent rolled to his back and
pulled her atop him. Then, he tugged the blankets to cover them
both.

"It's a shame to cover a body like yours, but
I sure as hell don't want you catching your death now."

"It seems warm in here to me. Did you
notice?" She straddled him and looked at his face.

"First time I've been warm in two days." His
fingers wrapped around a long curl dangling over her shoulder. He
pulled her head to his chest. "Damn, now you really have a reason
to hate me. I wanted this so much. Being with you is all I thought
about today. I kept picturing you naked in my arms."

"I don't remember fighting you off." She
traced his nipple with her finger and slid the same finger along
the line of his scar. As in her dream, she followed the scar with
her mouth.

"Do you have any idea what that does to
me?"

She sensed his manhood swell within her.
"Mmm, I think maybe I do."

"Princess, you've been in my dreams since the
day we met. You have no idea how much sleep you've cost me."

She stopped the progress of her mouth to
raise her head. "Then it's a good thing we've gone to bed so early,
isn't it? Now you can catch up on your sleep."

"I don't think so." He sought her mouth with
his. Breaking the kiss, he drew her beside him. "Since we have all
night and a few more condoms, let's slow down and let me savor
you."

* * *

The room lay in darkness when Holly awoke.
Her head rested on Trent's chest, her breathing matched to his.
Yesterday's roller coaster of emotions left her exhausted, but
their lovemaking brought a new contentment. Never had she been this
relaxed, this complete.

Did Trent feel contented, trapped, or merely
sated? She wondered if he regretted the lovemaking they’d shared.
Perhaps he experienced this sort of night often, and it meant
nothing to him. How little she knew about him.

A myriad of emotions tumbled through
her--with the absence of contrition. Unused to living for herself,
she relished this new feeling. How lovely to live for today and
forget tomorrow. Why had she waited twenty-nine years to experience
contentment?

This once she vowed to enjoy the moment.

This once she gave herself permission to be
spontaneous, even irresponsible.

This once she forced her mind away from
worries about the future or the past.

Trent stroked her back, nuzzling her hair
with his chin. "Are you lying awake because you have regrets?"

She slid her palm along his chest. "No, just
savoring. This is a new feeling for me."

His lips brushed her temple. "What feeling is
that?"

"I guess it's a sort of bliss. It's as if
time stands still for us here. There's only the two of us in this
big white world and nothing else matters."

"That will only work for a while longer,
Princess." He slid his hand along her shoulder and down her
arm.

"Yes, then it’s back to the real world. It
sounds as if the wind is finally losing gale force." She sensed him
drifting back to sleep, yet she wanted to know more about him. That
knowledge might hold back regrets tomorrow.

"There's still some of that wild boy in you."
She slid her hand to his chest. Her fingers traced the scar before
twirling the hair at the base of his navel.

"Let me show you just how wild this boy can
be."

***

Later, Trent lay awake. No matter how much
he’d enjoyed this night with Holly, threats of the future cast
their shadow. Panic swept over him as he thought of the stakes
riding on the meeting he’d missed today.

Their discussion tonight of his time aboard
ship and the reason for his nickname stirred up too many memories.
The old feelings of anger and betrayal came back to him as if it
were yesterday. What a living nightmare! He sighed and ran his
fingers through Holly's silky hair and inhaled her vanilla
scent.

Her sweet smell replaced the memory of acrid
odors of the ship's hold and the taste of blood and fear in his
mouth. Holding her helped keep at bay the demons of his recurring
nightmare. Several times at work he had caught the fragrance of
vanilla as she passed, or when she sat near him in a meeting. Her
use of the scent replaced the bitter memories its aroma once evoked
with a new and erotic association.

He had new nightmares, dreams where he was
once again a penniless orphan with nowhere to turn, and wanted by
no one. How could he sleep with his very life's blood poured into a
stagnant company that even now might be doomed? How could he enjoy
being with this beautiful woman when his failure meant failing her
and her family as well as his own destruction?

Holly murmured in her sleep and rolled away
and it was if he’d been deserted. He pulled her back to him,
desperate for her closeness amid the turbulent memories. Last night
her touch had temporarily silenced his personal demons, perhaps it
would again. Cradling her near, he finally slept.

***

Holly waked in a blissful cocoon of warmth.
Trent's arms held her, their legs entwined. She propped on an elbow
to study him as he slept. Sleep softened the rugged planes of his
face and subtracted years from his age.

Carefully, she stretched aching muscles that
protested a night of lovemaking. Let her muscles complain; she had
never been so satisfied and complete. More important, Trent made
her feel...cherished, just for herself.

Her thoughts turned to him as a boy and the
hard life he must have led then and at sea. He could not have
survived that life had he not been hardened by it. How had he
turned his life around from that destitute boy to the CEO and owner
of forty percent of Marvel Wire and Cable?

What other stories he must have stored up if
only he would talk freely about himself. Even with his disclosures
of the night before, he withheld great parts of his life. Would he
ever lower the wall and share all of himself with her?

How could she fault him for what she herself
practiced? She had not shared the hopelessness of her family's
situation. She realized that as much as their relationship had
changed during the past thirty-six hours, they still had many
obstacles in their way.

The thought startled her fully awake. With
cold desperation she realized she was very close to falling in love
with the wrong man, this man who lay beside her.

He opened his eyes and brought his hand to
brush her hair back from her face. "Good morning, Princess. What
put such a serious look on your face so early in the day?"

She chewed her lip, but couldn’t tell him her
true feelings of doubt mixed with longing. Instead, she countered,
"I...um, I was just thinking about what you told me of yourself
last night and wondering why you chose Marvel?"

He shook his head. "You'd think me even
crazier than you do now."

"Try me." She pushed her pillow up to the
headboard and leaned against it, drawing the cover up under her
chin.

He leaned on his elbow as she had earlier,
the finger of his other hand tracing the pattern of the spread
where it curved over her abdomen. Her insides dissolved to jelly
and she had difficulty concentrating on his words.

"You know who Richard King was?"

She nodded, glad his voice penetrated the
throb of desire pulsing through her. She hoped her voice sounded
steadier than she felt.

"What kind of Texan would I be if I didn't?
You do mean the man who started the King Ranch in the mid 1800's,
don't you? That Richard King?"

"Yeah. Did you know that before he started
his ranch he captained a boat?" He scooted up and tucked his pillow
behind his head near hers then pulled her near him.

She snuggled up to his shoulder. "No. Are
your certain?" She tried to recall all she knew about the King
ranch, and realized she only knew it was huge but nothing about the
man who founded it.

He leaned back against the pillow with one
arm around her and one arm behind his head. "Yeah. Of course, he
captained a steamboat up and down the Rio Grande instead of a
diesel up and down the Atlantic."

"I didn't know that." Against her own desire
to gaze at his body, she pulled the cover up to shield his chest
from the cold.

"I told you I read a lot aboard ship. One of
the books spotlighted Americans who had made a fortune and how they
started. Several of the men founded a fortune in Texas. When the
time came to start my campaign, I also chose Texas."

"You think of building your fortune as a
campaign?"

"Exactly what it is. In addition to the
benefits of the reward I told you of, I saved and invested from the
time I was eighteen."

She frowned. "I thought you were sixteen when
you ran away to sea."

His rakish grin sent her pulse climbing. "Ah,
but the first two years I played the devil, spent every penny I
had."

"And you just waked up one day and decided to
become prudent?" Even at sixteen he must have been a handsome
devil.

He sobered. "No. One day I waked up in a
hospital and realized I was as mortal as any other man." His hand
rubbed the great scar slashed across his chest. "My best friend
didn't wake up from that fight. It made me think, I can tell
you."

She placed a hand on his arm. "Your friend
died? I'm so sorry." What if it had been him? The thought of him
dying before his time sent shivers through her.

"Aside from the sorrow of losing a mate,
Captain Swenson pointed out I could easily have been the one laid
out on a slab in the morgue."

"So you changed your wicked ways?" She tilted
her head and flashed him a smile.

"I didn't say that. I said I started saving
my money."

She gave his chest a playful nudge.

"In fact, I gave saving the same dedication I
had given to spending. I started reading everything I could on
making those savings multiply.”

He appeared lost in thought then met her
gaze. “What really helped my capital was that John Swenson’s father
had grown up with this Dallas investment banker, Carl Winston. John
hooked me up with Winston to guide my investments. In the almost
eighteen years since then, that amount grew steadily."

“
Carl Winston? Imagine that. Guess it
really is a small world. He’s a family friend from way back.” She
slid to the edge of the bed and reached for her clothes. "I think
I'll fix breakfast so you can save the Martins' money by caring for
their cattle."

"Yep. It's time to head 'em up and move 'em
out." With a playful slap to her still-bared backside, he mimicked
the old television western theme.

"Hey, watch it, Macleod." She tried for
indignation but couldn’t suppress a smile.

Shivering against the chill, she slipped
quickly into her clothes, already planning their meal and the day.
Suddenly, she paused in the midst of pulling on the borrowed
boots.

"Darn, I'll bet those horrid hens have laid
more eggs just to spite me." Holly left the bedroom to the sound of
Trent's laughter.

She lit a candle from the bathroom heater and
set it on the rim of the sink. Remembering not to flush after she
used the facility, she grabbed her brush and comb. When she looked
into the mirror, she saw her flushed cheeks and the new sparkle in
her eyes. No doubt about it, she looked like a woman who’d spent
the night making love.

Love? In her dreams, maybe, but in the cold
light of day—make that the cold candlelight of early morning—she
had to admit it had been sex. Lust and the opportunity to slake
it.

The import of what she had done hit her with
a force that almost felled her. She wanted to sit on the toilet
seat and put her head between her knees until the lightheadedness
went away. No, she was not the fainting type no matter how messed
up her life became.

And she had really done it this time. Not
only did she have sex with her boss, she knew herself well on the
way from in lust to falling in love with the man. Had she betrayed
her family? Maybe. At least she doubted the reliability of Geneva's
account of Trent's part in her father's heart attack.

Admittedly, her escalating attraction to
Trent colored her perception of his past actions. Harsh and hard he
might be in business, but she could not see the man who shared her
night deliberately taunting her father. If only she knew what her
father tried to tell her when he asked her to "get Trent to." To
what?

And now she’d had sex with Trent. Well, from
her view they made love, but she had no idea how what he thought of
her. After all, here they were isolated together. Maybe she was
just a way to amuse himself and release some of the tension from
being stranded.

She blushed with the memory of practically
throwing herself at the man. He’d certainly needed no
encouragement, but she knew men felt differently about sex. They’d
made love through the night. Numerous wonderful, blissful,
passionate times. Some of her own pent up tension had
dissolved.

But how could she have been so stupid? Never
had she given into her emotions in such a capricious way. In fact,
she had vowed never to let herself become trapped by emotion once
she righted her family's situation.

Next year both Angela and Jenny would be at
the university. As soon as they graduated and had jobs or husbands,
she would have fulfilled her promise to her father. She had only a
few more years to wait before she could free herself of
spendthrift, social climbing Geneva.