The Forever Dream

by Iris Johansen

  He looked up to see Kevin regarding his moody abstraction with a curious alertness. He straightened slowly in his chair, his expression instinctively resuming its accustomed wariness. "There's no denying Tania can be a handful," he said lightly. "But you can't say it's been

  boring."

  "No, I can't say that," Kevin agreed, pulling a face. "I find myself lying awake at night wondering what she'll try next."

  "The helicopter," Jared drawled, his lips quirking. “Almost certainly the helicopter."

  "I'll keep that in mind."

  The door of the library was opened with explosive vitality. "Good afternoon, gentlemen," Tania said as she breezed into the room. "It's very chilly out today. Is there any coffee?"

  "On the desk," Kevin said testily, trying to frown sternly. She smiled serenely at him and strode briskly across the library to the desk. Dressed in jeans and a dark windbreaker, her slight figure looked even smaller than usual, and there was a black smudge on her cheekbone that gave her a raffish appeal. "I'm surprised that you didn't wear something warmer, or didn't you know the back of the van wasn't heated?"

  She shrugged. "I knew, but I couldn't take the chance of wearing anything bulkier. It was a tight

  squeeze in that box as it was." She reached for the carafe of coffee and then halted abruptly as she noticed that her hands were smudged with grease and dirt. "I seem to be a little disreputable at the moment. Will one of you do the honors?"

  "I will," Jared said as he stood up and strolled toward her. He filled one of the cups on the tray, added a dollop of cream, and handed her the cup and saucer. His gaze was searching. "Are you all right?"

  "Of course," she answered, her dark eyes dancing. "Other than a slight stiffness from stuffing myself into that box like a pretzel, I'm fine." She took a sip of the hot coffee and gave a sigh of contentment. "There's nothing that tastes as good as hot coffee on a cold day."

  "And the guards?"

  "The epitome of gentlemanly conduct, as usual. I quite enjoy our little encounters."

  "Give it up, Tania," Jared urged quietly. "Can't you see that it's hopeless?"

  She shook her head. "Nothing is hopeless. These little setbacks are just learning exercises." She grinned. "For example, I now know that there's a checkpoint I wasn't aware of before, where it's located, and how it's manned. Not bad for a dull Monday afternoon."

  A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and again there was that odd glimmer of pride. "Not bad." One hand reached out to caress the thick braid on her shoulder. "And this time you escaped with no more consequences than a dirty face. That may not be the case next time, Tania."

  "The guards?" She shrugged. "They're so frightened of displeasing you that they're no threat." Then she frowned. "My face is dirty too?" One grimy hand went instinctively to her cheek. "Where?"

  "I'll get it." He reached into his back pocket and drew out a clean white handkerchief. "You'll only make it worse."

  She stood quite still, accepting his ministrations like an obedient child as he drew a step closer and carefully wiped at the smudge of grease on her cheekbone. She smelled of crisp cold air, a light floral perfume, and motor oil, and her dark eyes were gazing up at him with the bold challenge he'd become accustomed to in the last weeks.

  "I want to be alone with you this evening," she murmured, so that only he could hear.

  "I thought you would." He was rubbing gently at her cheek. "I recognize the pattern."

  "Of course you do," she said swiftly. "You're a brilliant man, Ryker. So you'll send Kevin away and teach me more about the intricacies of poker?"

  "Yes, I'll send Kevin away." His lips twisted wryly. "And then we'll play 'games,' little Piper."

  "Good." She stepped back, took one last sip of coffee before replacing the cup and saucer on the tray on the desk. "Now I must go to my room and shower away this grease." She wrinkled her nose distastefully. "I smell like a garage."

  "I was finding it quite erotic," Jared said as he threw the soiled handkerchief carelessly on the desk.

  "Were you?" Her gaze was speculative. "I'll remember that."

  "I'm sure you will. I've discovered you have a mind that's exceptionally retentive where such matters are concerned."

  She was moving swiftly toward the door, and her glance back at him sparked with mischief. "Have you discovered that, Ryker? I must be making even more progress than I thought." She gave a jaunty little wave that included both men. "I'll see you at dinner."

  * * *

  It took longer than usual for Tania to dress that evening. There was not only the acrid scent of oil to shampoo from her hair, but she wanted to take special pains to erase every trace of the tomboy from her appearance. She must be everything that was womanly and desirable, the complete antithesis of the grease monkey in the library. It was a necessary preliminary for the games that were to come.

  As she finished weaving her hair in its accustomed single braid, she gave her reflection in the vanity mirror a critical appraisal before nodding with satisfaction. She'd debated about wearing a gown but decided the silky brocade of these Chinese lounging pajamas had a more tactile allure; then, too, this particular shade of sunshine yellow gave her olive skin a little of its glowing radiance. A brush of pink lip gloss and a little powder and she was ready to launch her evening campaign.

  The last two weeks had been just as stimulating as she'd suspected at first they would be. The conflict between her and Jared struck sparks that made her feel breathlessly alive. It had been a heady victory when she'd scored even the smallest dent in that wariness with which he armored himself against her.

  She frowned at a twinge of uneasiness so intense it was close to pain. What was the matter with her? She was zestfully enjoying their passage of arms. She certainly didn't want Ryker to lower his shield and let her know the man behind it. As long as he stood firm, unable to be overcome, captured, she could whip about him like a flame, circling his quiet strength and singeing and stinging at will. Playing dangerously. She must on no account let herself give in to this odd hunger to know Jared Ryker . . . know what he was feeling, thinking. It was becoming increasingly difficult of late to smother that hunger to know when she was in his presence.

  More than once she'd felt, too, a wild impulse to lower her own guard and see what would happen. Thank heaven she'd come to her senses before she'd actually gone that far. Ryker as an antagonist was a delight, but in any other role might prove too dangerous to handle. She'd already caught herself enjoying his wry humor more often than she liked to admit. His brilliance was unquestionable, and he had an aura of intense inner strength that was enormously appealing and reassuring. Good Lord, only a short time before she'd been discovered in that van this afternoon she'd actually felt a bit sad at the thought that she might escape!

  A few hours later she was scowling at Ryker across the card table. During dinner and in the hours since, he'd been more punctiliously polite and withdrawn than ever before. He'd scarcely spoken to her in the last hour except to make courteous replies to her remarks. His attention presumably was concentrated entirely on the cards in his hands, and the only sound in the library was the crackling of the logs in the fireplace. No, there was also the sound of that blasted clock on the mantle. The steady, dull rhythm was like sandpaper on her nerves.

  She cast a glowering look at the openwork timepiece beneath its crystal dome. "Do you keep that thing around to distract the other players' attention from their cards? Why the devil don't you put it away somewhere?"

  He raised a brow. "You don't like it?"

  She threw her cards down on the table. "It's too loud. It gets on my nerves." She pushed back her chair and stood up.

  His gaze followed hers to the crystal-domed clock on the mantel. "I don't agree with you," he said softly. "I find it very satisfying."

  "Satisfying?"

  He shrugged, and tossed his cards carelessly onto the green baize top of the table. "Perhaps you'll also find

  it satis
fying shortly." He smiled. "Tastes have a way of changing with circumstances, I've found."

  "I can't imagine developing a sudden liking for that antique monstrosity. . . . And the only change of circumstances that would appeal is if this chateau had a moat I could throw it in."

  "You never know," he said, his gray eyes resting speculatively on her face. "You seem to be a trifle on edge this evening. I've never seen you upset by something so trivial."

  "It's the trivial things that have a way of chipping away our resistance," Tania said, as she moved purposely toward the fireplace. "We think they're too minor to bother with, and suddenly we find we've been weakened before we know it." She carefully lifted the crystal dome off the clock. "That's why it's always best to stem an annoyance at its source." She switched off the clock's mechanism, and there was an abrupt but very welcome silence in the room. "There, that's better."

  She heard Ryker's sudden chuckle and turned to see his usually guarded expression had changed. His face was alight with humor and genuine enjoyment. "Little Piper, you're a treasure and a joy to me."

  "What's so funny?" she asked, puzzled. Ryker seemed to be deriving inordinate amusement from her simple act of defiance.

  "Nothing." He shook his head, a smile still tugging at his lips. "I was just thinking that we're more alike than you know. Our reasoning processes run along remarkably similar lines."

  "Do they?" she asked. It appeared this was Ryker's evening for being cryptic. "Well, I'm glad I didn't upset you by stopping your blasted clock."

  "No, you didn't upset me." His smile widened. "I stopped one myself once. It can be very satisfying, I know."

  His dark face was illuminated with an expression of gentle warmth and humor that made it almost boyish, and his eyes were glowing with tenderness as he gazed across the room at her. Tania felt an odd ache start in her chest, and she was suddenly conscious of a melting sensation that filled her with a vague fear.

  Fear?

  She drew a deep breath, and her back stiffened at the thought. Of course it wasn't fear. She was just in an oddly vulnerable mood tonight. It would be gone tomorrow and she'd have regained her usual calm.

  She smiled sweetly, her dark gaze narrowed on his face. "It wasn't my intention that you notice how much alike we are, Ryker," she said softly. "Tonight I wanted you to be more aware of our differences." She could see the grin fade slowly from his face and the mask of wariness return. She would not feel this twinge of pain. "I dressed very carefully to that end, and you haven't even told me you like the way I look."

  "You're very lovely," Jared murmured, his gaze running over her lingeringly. "You're like a Chinese princess in that outfit. I don't think you need me to tell you that."

  She was walking toward him, her movements as consciously alluring as any she'd ever made on the stage. "It helps. I like to know that you think I'm attractive. To know that I can stir you." She was next to his chair now, and her smile was deliberately provocative. "And I can stir you, can't I, Ryker?"

  "There's no doubt about that," Jared said. She could see the imperceptible tensing of his muscles beneath his charcoal crew-necked sweater and the hollow of his cheeks deepen as his expression became taut. Why did it bring her so little satisfaction?

  "You know why I wanted to be alone with you tonight?"

  "I'd be pretty dense not to. As I said, I recognize the pattern. Every time you suffer a minor defeat, you come to me and make sure I have one too." His lips twisted. "And mine is far more physically painful than any of yours have been, I assure you. Sometimes I don't sleep all night after one of our little sessions. Does that please you?"

  It should have pleased her, but for some reason it didn't. "Of course it does," she said firmly as she moved even closer to his chair. Her hand reached out to stroke his dark hair. Its heavy crispness curled around her fingers with a sensuality that was pleasing. "That's the purpose of the entire exercise. To make you so miserable that you'll want to let me go."

  "Is it?" His gray eyes regarded her steadily. "Perhaps that was your reasoning in the beginning, but I think the situation has changed a little. I've noticed a few new and different nuances lately."

  She shook her head vehemently, her hand unconsciously clenching in his hair. "Nothing has changed," she said quickly. "Why should it?"

  "You tell me. Or better still, come here and show me. I think I've developed a few masochistic tendencies in the last two weeks. I've noticed lately that I sometimes actually enjoy the pain you inflict, little Piper. I embrace it like a lover and hug it to me like that Spartan boy in the legend with the fox that gnawed at his vitals."

  Her hand in his hair was trembling. "Then perhaps I'd do better to stop," she said with a shaky smile. "I seem to be defeating my purpose." Her hand would have dropped from his hair, but he stopped her, his own hand swiftly grasping her arm.

  "But you wouldn't want to take my word for it," he said silkily. "What if I were lying to you? You wouldn't want to give me victory by default, would you? Come close and sharpen those needle teeth on me, vixen."

  She responded to that challenge in her usual fashion. Her chin lifted in defiance. "They don't need sharpening, thank you. I haven't found you all that tough in the past."

  With a swift jerk that caught her off-balance he pulled her into his lap. "But as I mentioned before, circumstances and attitudes have a way of changing." She could feel the warm length of his arousal burning like a brand through the material that separated their bodies, and she felt a little flicker of triumph. "Not all that much," she said demurely, gazing at him through the veil of her lashes. She pressed close, rubbing the softness of her unconfined breasts against him. "You desire me."

  "Do you want me to say the words?" he asked calmly. "I desire you. Does that give you pleasure, sweetheart?" His hand was gently massaging the tendons in the hollow of her back through the brocade. "I don't mind giving you your little victories. Defeat isn't easy to accept, but it is even harder for you than for me." His palm lazily covered her small breast, and the sudden vibrant warmth caused her heart to beat crazily. "Would it help if 1 told you what it does to me to feel the way you harden and swell in my hand? That it causes an ache to start that goes all the way down to the soles of my feet?" His head bent slowly, and his lips opened to gently suckle at her other breast through the fabric. "You never wear a bra, do you, love?"

  Her hands tightened spasmodically on his shoulders. "I'm not exactly voluptuous," she said breathlessly. "I don't really need one."

  His hand in the small of her back arched her forward, and his tongue stroked her nipple teasingly through the silk. "I'm glad," he said thickly. "Even when it's driving me crazy, I like to know you're ready and waiting for me." He blew gently on the damp material and smiled at the instant pucker of response. "And you are ready for me, little Piper. Didn't anyone ever tell you that a huntress can get caught in her own snare when she plays a game like this?" "No! It's not like—"

  "Oh, but it is," he interrupted. "Do you think I'd have let myself be used in these torrid petting parties if I hadn't thought it would be worth my while in the end? I'm a bit old for this kind of refined torment." He grimaced. "It's a wonder I haven't gone completely gray putting up with your little games. The only thing that kept me from going insane was that I knew what you were doing was conditioning yourself."

  "Conditioning?" she asked, her expression stormy. "Conditioning me for what, pray?"

  The hand on her breast was stroking her soothingly. "For me," he said softly. "I wanted you to grow accustomed to knowing what it was like in my arms, to feel how natural it was to have my hands and lips loving you. You're at home with me now. You'd miss this as much as I would."

  She was too honest not to admit there was every possibility he might be right. She did have a strange feeling of homecoming in his arms, even when she was enveloped in a need so intense she was dizzy with it.

  Her hands were suddenly on his shoulders, pushing him away. "No," she said sharply. "Let me go. I don
't want this." She tried to wriggle off his lap, but suddenly found his arms holding her in a firm, but gentle prison. "You said I could set the boundaries."

  "And you've been doing just that," he said, pulling her inexorably closer until she was cradled against the broad wall of his chest. "But we both know that referred to sexual boundaries." His hand was smoothing the fine hair at her temple with a gentle hand. "This is entirely different. I'm not trying to seduce you, Tania."

  Wasn't he? Perhaps not in the carnal sense, but there were other ways to entice that were even more beguiling. She felt again that melting tenderness, that strange aching hunger to reach beyond that wall of reserve and touch him. But he wasn't a man to give without demanding in return, and how could she give him that? Her own barriers had been up too long to yield to probing without pain. Yet his arms felt so warm and secure about her. Her cheek instinctively nestled closer against the rough wool of his sweater.

  "This isn't any good, Ryker," she said wearily. "I don't know what you want from me."

  "Yes, you do," he said quietly. "I told you I want to know everything about you. I want you to open to me and let me inside." He paused. "I guess what I'm saying is that I want to be your friend. I can wait for the other. I've developed a good deal of patience over the years and find generally that anticipation only sharpens the pleasure." His hand moved to the nape of her neck, gently massaging the taut muscles. "But since you've been here, I've begun to want something more. If I read the signs correctly, I think you have too."

  She tensed unconsciously. The yielding he was speaking of wasn't physical. And the surrender he was asking was much more frightening. Her hands clenched on a fold of his sweater. "And will you open to me as well?"

  "As much as I can," he said, his tone of voice grave. "As much as it's safe. We can't go on as we have been, you know. We've reached the point where it's almost as painful to stand still as move on to the next step."