The Cowboy and the Lady (11 page)

He drew back, studying the apprehension in her eyes watchfully. “I won’t hurt you,” he said softly.

“I know. I…” She stared up at him helplessly. “I need time,” she whispered.

He drew in a hard, heavy breath, leaning his weight on his forearms as he poised just above her. “You’ve had seven years,” he reminded her.

“You’ve hated me for seven years,” she corrected sadly. “Jason, you can’t expect me to…to trust you…to give…”

He reached down and kissed her roughly. “To give yourself to me—why can’t you say it?” His eyes narrowed. “All right, I’ll accept that. You need time to get used to the idea, and I’ll give you that. But not much, Amanda. I’ve waited longer than I ever intended already, and I’m damned near the end of my rope. I’ve gone a hell of a long time without a woman.”

She gasped at him and would have pursued that, but he bent suddenly and she felt the firm, warm pressure of his mouth against the bare curve of her breast where the strap had fallen away. Her body arched instinctively at the unexpected pressure, at the newness of a man’s lips on her body, and she gasped.

“Do you like it?” he murmured against her silky skin, and drew the strap down even farther to seek the deep pink peak with his warm mouth in an intimacy that made her grasp his dark hair with both hands to jerk him away. A mistake, she saw that immediately, because his eyes had a brief and total view of the curves his lips had touched, before she was able to jerk the bodice back in place.

He studied her flaming face with interest. “Was it always in the dark before?” he murmured, smiling. “I’m glad you left at least one first for me. What’s that saying about the delights to be found in small packages?”

“You beast!” she whispered, flushing more wildly than ever.

He chuckled softly, watching her jerk the sheet over herself. He sat up, as smug as a tiger with one paw on its prey.

“Small but perfect, love,” he said gently, and for a moment he seemed a stranger, his silver eyes almost gentle, his face faintly kind.

Impulsively, she reached out and touched his bare chest, looking up at him with all the unasked questions in her eyes. “I’m sorry you and Marguerite were worried.”

He only nodded. “You’d better get some sleep.”

“You had, too,” she murmured. “You won’t be able to work at all.”

“I’ll have hell keeping my mind on work, all right,” he admitted, staring into her puzzled eyes. He leaned down, his mouth poised just over hers. “Hard, this time,” he whispered gruffly, “and open your mouth…”

He crushed her lips under his, fostering a hunger like nothing she’d ever felt before. It was a meeting of mouths that was as intimate as the merging of two souls. She arched up against him, her mouth wild, her nails biting into his shoulders, moaning in a surrender as sweeping as death. She loved him so, wanted him so, and for this instant he was hers. She wanted nothing more than to give him everything she had to give, despite all the arguments, all the harsh words.

He drew back, breathing heavily, his eyes blazing with suppressed desire. He caught her wrists and drew her hands gently away from his shoulders, easing her back down on the pillow.

“I’d rather saw off my arm than leave you,” he said in a husky whisper. “Oh, God, I want you so!”

She caught her trembling lower lip in her teeth, staring up at him helplessly, beyond words.

He drew a heavy breath and leaned down, brushing her mouth lightly with his, a tender caress after the storm. “You could still sleep with me,” he remarked quietly, searching her misty eyes. “No strings, just sleep. I’d like to hold you against me, see you lying there in my bed.”

The flush went all the way down her body, and he watched it with a passing confusion in his glittering eyes.

“What if your mother or Duncan happened to walk in?” she asked unsteadily, trying to make light of it when she wanted nothing more than to do just as he’d suggested.

He searched her eyes. “Then I’d have to marry you, wouldn’t I?” he asked with a faint smile. He got up before she could decide whether or not he was joking, and the moment was lost. He glanced back at her from the open door.

“Sweet dreams, honey. Sleep well. God knows, I won’t,” he added, his eyes sweeping the length of her body under the thin sheet.

“Good night, Jason,” she whispered softly, “or should I say good morning?”

He smiled, then turned and went through the door without looking back. Amanda stared after him for a long time before she turned over and closed her eyes with a sigh.

Chapter Seven

S
he opened her eyes to a shaft of midmorning sunlight that streamed across the fluffy blue coverlet, and as her soft brown eyes stared at the ceiling, the memory of Jace’s visit sent tingles of excitement all over her. She threw her legs over the edge of the bed and sat up, staring at the door, her face bright, her eyes brimming with excitement. Jace! Had it really happened? She touched her mouth and looked in the mirror, as if looking for evidence of the kisses he’d pressed against it. There was a faint bruise high on one arm, and she remembered with a thrill of pleasure the blaze of ardor she’d shared with him. It hadn’t been a dream after all. But had he felt the same pleasure she had? Or had it all been something he already regretted in the cold light of day? Would he be different? Would he smile instead of scowl, would he be less antagonistic? Or would he hate her even more…?

She got into jeans and a scoop-necked powder-blue blouse and hurried downstairs, her hair loose and waving around her shoulders, her eyes full of dreams.

It was past ten o’clock, and she hadn’t really expected Jace to be at the breakfast table, but she felt a surge of disappointment anyway when she opened the dining-room door and found only Marguerite and Terry there, Terry looking faintly irritated.

“There you are.” He sighed. “Look, Mandy, you’ll have to handle this account from here on in. Jackson called me a few minutes ago and he doesn’t like the television spot we worked up—says it’s too ‘suggestive.’”

“But his son approved it,” she protested.

“Without his permission, it seems,” Terry grumbled. He gulped down the rest of his coffee and stood up. “Sorry to leave you like this, but if we lose that account we’re in big trouble. It’s the largest one we have—I don’t need to remind you about that.”

“No, of course not. Don’t worry,” she said with a smile, “I can take over here.”

“I never did get to talk to Jace last night.” He grinned back at her. “Maybe you’ll have better luck.” Then he thanked Marguerite for her hospitality, reminded Amanda to call him at the airport when she got into San Antonio after she finished discussing the account, and hurried away to get a cab.

“You don’t sound quite as nervous of Jason as you did,” Marguerite murmured, eyeing her with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “I wonder why?”

Amanda flushed in spite of herself and burst out laughing. “I’ll never tell,” she murmured.

“I thought he’d get around to showing you how upset he’d been,” the older woman remarked as she stirred cream into her hot coffee. “I’ve never seen him like that. By the way,” she added, glancing at Amanda, “I have a delightful surprise for you.”

“What?” Amanda asked, all eyes.

“It will have to wait a little,” came the mysterious reply, with a smile. “Jason’s at the office this morning, but I think he may be in for lunch. Oh, and Duncan’s at the dentist.” She bit back a smile. “Jason loosened two of his caps.”

Marguerite left minutes later for an arts council meeting, and Amanda took advantage of her absence to work on the presentation she planned to make to Jace. She hadn’t much hope of his acceptance. He might enjoy making love to her, but she suspected he had a chauvinistic attitude toward women in business, and she was afraid he wouldn’t even listen to her. It would be just like him.

Her mind kept going back to the things he’d said, to his explanation of the proposition he’d once made her. He’d actually been asking her to marry him all those years before. She sighed, closing her eyes at the thought. To be his wife, to have the right to touch him whenever she wanted, to run to him when he came home at night and throw herself into his arms, to look after him and see that he got enough rest, to plan her life around his, to buy things for him…she might have had all that, if only she’d been mature enough to realize it wasn’t a proposition after all. She’d resented it all these years, and now there was nothing to resent; only something to regret with all her heart. Now she loved him, wanted him, needed him as only a woman could, and he was forever out of reach. He enjoyed the feel of her in his arms. But he still doubted her innocence, and he’d made it very clear he didn’t have marriage in mind anymore. He simply wanted to sleep with her. Because now he had money, and she didn’t. And he’d never be sure if she wanted him or the wealth she’d lost; he wouldn’t take a chance by asking her to marry him again. She knew that.

She was so engrossed in her thoughts that she didn’t hear the phone ring until the maid came and said it was for her.

She lifted the receiver on the phone by the sofa, wondering if Terry could be calling so soon after he’d left.

“Hello?” she murmured hesitantly.

“Hello, yourself,” came Jace’s reply in a voice like brown velvet. “What are you doing?”

“W-working on the ad presentation,” she faltered.

“You don’t sound very confident,” he remarked. “If you don’t believe in your own abilities, honey, how do you expect me to?”

“I do have confidence in the agency,” she returned, her fingers trembling on the cord. “It’s just that…I didn’t expect you to call.”

“Even after this morning?” he asked softly, and laughter rippled into the receiver. “I’ve got some nasty scratches on my back because of you.”

She felt the heat rush into her cheeks as she remembered the way she’d dug her nails into him so hungrily. “It’s your own fault,” she whispered, smiling. “Don’t make me take all the blame.”

“Witch,” he chuckled. “Come down to the office about eleven-thirty. I’ll take you to lunch.”

“I’d like that,” she said softly.

“I know something I’d like better,” he said bluntly.

“You lecherous man,” she teased, feeling somewhat disoriented to hear him talking to her like this.

“Only with you, Miss Carson. You have such a delicious Body…”

“Jace!”

“Don’t worry, it’s not a party line.” He laughed. “And my office is soundproof.”

“Why?” she asked without thinking.

“So the rest of the staff won’t hear the screams when I beat my secretary,” he said matter-of-factly.

She burst out laughing. “Do you treat all your employees like that?”

“Only when they don’t do as they’re told,” he returned. “Don’t be late. I’m sandwiching you in between a board meeting and a civic club luncheon.”

“A luncheon?” she asked. “But you shouldn’t be having lunch with me…”

“I’ll have coffee at the luncheon and tell them I’m on a diet.”

“Nobody will believe that,” she murmured. “Not as streamlined as you are.”

“So you do notice me?”

“You’re very attractive,” she breathed, feeling her face flush again as she murmured the words.

There was a satisfied sound from the other end of the line. “Eleven-thirty. Don’t forget,” he said.

“I won’t,” she promised, and the line went dead.

* * *

She’d never been in the building before. It was a skyscraper in downtown Victoria, huge and imposing, with a fountain and greenery outside and huge trees in pots inside. Jace’s office was on the fifth floor. She took the elevator up and walked across the large expanse of soft cream-colored carpet to his secretary’s massive, littered desk.

“Is Jace…Mr. Whitehall in?” she asked nervously.

The secretary, a tall brunette with soft blue eyes, smiled at her. “Can’t you hear the muffled roar?” she whispered conspiratorially, nodding toward the office, from which the rumble of Jace’s deep angry voice was just audible. “A big real estate deal just fell through at the last minute and now Jace is trying to straighten out the mess. It’s been something or other all morning long. Sorry, I didn’t mean to cry all over you. Do you really want to see him?” she finished with wildly arched eyebrows.

“Oh, yes, I’m very brave,” Amanda promised with a tiny grin.

“Angela, get me the file on the Bronson Corporation,” Jace snapped over the intercom. “And let me know the minute Miss Carson gets here.”

Angela looked at Amanda, who nodded, and spoke into the intercom, “She’s here. Shall I send her in, or does she need something to stand behind?”

“Don’t be cute, Miss Regan,” he said.

She stepped into his office hesitantly, her heart racing, her eyes unsure as conflicting memories tore at her. He didn’t look any different; his face was as hard as usual, his eyes giving nothing away in that narrow gaze that went from the V neck of her amber dress down the full skirt to her long tanned legs and her small feet encased in strappy beige sandals. But last night had seemed to be a turning point for Amanda, and she wondered if Jace really was as untouched by it as he seemed. If last night hadn’t affected him, would he revert to the old antagonism and start taunting her as he had before? She clutched her purse nervously as the secretary smiled at her, winked and closed the door on her way out.