by Diana Palmer
“Not for long, if you keep this up,” she whispered back.
“You are scared of him!”
“Shut up,” she said through her teeth, making a prayer of it as Bryan Moreland’s big, husky form came into view. He swept the room with his dark, cutting gaze, and she felt the impact of it like a physical blow when his eyes stopped on her averted face. She stared straight ahead, ignoring him, while her heart felt as if it were going to jump out of her body.
She didn’t look at him again until he was at the podium, with the City Council and the City Planning Commission gathered around the conference table with him. She recognized Edward King and Tom Green immediately.
“What’s this all about?” she asked Peck in a muted whisper.
“The airport,” he replied with a grin. “You made somebody take notice with that run-in with King, didn’t you?”
She shifted restlessly and forced herself to listen to Moreland’s deep curt voice describing plans for the new airport and the expansion of services it would mean by national airlines. For the first time, the city would have an international airport; a tribute to its rapid growth.
But when he finished, the land purchase still hadn’t been discussed, and she noticed that the mayor didn’t throw the floor open for questions, as he usually did at the end of a press conference.
She got her things together and started to dart out the side door, but Bill Peck left her, calling back that he had to talk to Tom Green, and Carla got trapped between the nest of chairs and a group of news people passing tidbits of information back and forth. The next thing she knew, she was looking up into Bryan Moreland’s dark, quiet eyes.
Her heart dropped, and she could feel her knees trembling. She let her gaze fall to his burgundy tie.
“Good morning, your honor,” she said with a pitiful attempt at lightness.
“Five days, two hours, twenty-six minutes,” he said quietly.
She looked up, feeling all the dark clouds vanish, all the color come back into her colorless world as she realized the meaning behind the statement.
“And forty-five seconds,” she whispered unsteadily.
He drew in a hard, deep breath, and she noticed for the first time how haggard he looked, how tired. “Oh, God, I’ve missed you,” he said in a voice just loud enough to carry to her ears and no further. “I wanted a hundred times to call you and explain…I know what you must have thought, and you couldn’t have been further off base. But I got busy…Oh, hell have supper with me. I’ll try to put it into words.”
The need to say yes was incredible. But she was cautious now, wary of him. He could hurt her now, because he could get close, and she wasn’t sure she was willing to take the risk a second time.
He read that hesitation and nodded. “I know what you’re afraid of. But trust me this once. Just listen to me.”
She shifted and let a long breath seep out between her lips. “All right.”
“I’ll pick you up at six.”
She nodded her assent and looked up, hypnotized by the strange expression in his eyes.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he whispered deeply. “There are too many cameras in here.”
She knew what he meant without any explanation, and her face colored again.
“Reading my mind?” he asked with a wicked smile as his eyes dropped to the soft, high curve of her breasts. “Read it now.”
She pulled her coat tight around her and tried to breathe normally. “I…I’ll see you later, then,” she managed weakly.
He chuckled softly as he moved to let her pass by him. His eyes didn’t leave her until she was out of sight.
She was like a teenaged girl on her first date, waiting for him that night with her hair hanging loose over her shoulders, the single green velour evening gown she owned clinging to her slender curves like a second skin, bringing out the soft tan of her bare arms and shoulders.
She couldn’t help feeling nervous. What was he going to expect from her now? The fact that he’d missed her hadn’t really changed anything. And what about her? What was she willing to give? What did she truly feel?
In the midst of her mental interrogation, the doorbell screamed into the silence, and she jumped just before she ran to answer it.
He walked in by her even as she opened the door, his scowl fierce, his eyes dangerous.
“Hard day?” she asked softly.
“They’re all hard,” he said, turning to look down at her. The anger drained out of his hard face as he studied her soft curves with an expression that grew warmer, possessive, as the seconds throbbed past.
His massive chest rose and fell heavily under his dark evening clothes, his ruffled silk shirt. “Oh, honey,” he said finally, deeply, “that is one hell of a dress.”
“Do you really like it?” she murmured inanely, speaking for the sake of words, while her eyes told him something very different.
“I hope you haven’t gone to any great pains with your makeup, little girl,” he said finally, moving closer, “because I’m about to smear the hell out of it.”
Her lips parted under a rush of breath while he pulled her against his big body, molding her slowly against him.
“It’s been too long already,” he said in a harsh whisper, bending his dark head until she felt the warm, uneven pulse of his breath against her trembling lips. “I can’t get that evening out of my mind, Carla….”
His mouth hurt. It was as if the hunger he felt made violence necessary, and his big arms bruised in their ardor while he took what he needed from her soft ardent mouth.
“Sleep with me,” he whispered against her mouth. “I need you.”
“Bryan…” she breathed, drawing back as far as the crush of his arms would allow.
“God, don’t make me wait any longer,” he growled unsteadily. “I’m so hungry for you I can hardly stay alive for wanting you. Carla, little Carla, why are you holding back? You won’t regret it.”
She swallowed and her eyes closed. “Bryan, there’s never been a man,” she said in a haunted voice.
She felt his arms stiffen around her, felt his breath catch.
“What did you say?” he asked.
She drew a steadying breath. “I said, I’ve never slept with a man.”
“But, at the farm…My God, woman, you were on fire…”
Her eyelids pressed hard together as a wave of embarrassment swept over her, and her pale cheeks colored. “I know. But it’s still true.”
There was a long pause, and then his big, warm hands came up to force her face out of hiding, so that he could search it and her misty eyes.
“It was the first time for you…touching, being touched?” he asked finally, and there was a new tenderness in his voice.
All she could manage to do was nod. Her throat felt as if it had been glued shut.
The hard lines in his face relaxed, smoothed out. He looked at her as if he’d never seen a woman before. His dark eyes went down to her soft body, lingering on the high young curves that his fingers had touched so intimately.
“I remember looking down at you,” he said absently, “and there was an expression on your face I couldn’t understand. Now it all makes sense.”
She chewed on her lower lip, vaguely embarrassed, because she remembered that moment, too—vividly.
He turned away, ramming his big hands into his pockets with a heavy sigh. “Well, that tears it,” he said roughly.
She stared at his broad back, her eyes drawn to the thick, silver-threaded hair that gleamed like black diamonds in the overhead light.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured inadequately.
“My God, for what?” he asked harshly, whirling to face her. His dark eyes blazed across the room.
The question stunned her. In the sudden silence, she could hear the ticking of the clock by the sofa, the sounds of traffic in the street as if they were magnified.
“Are you trying to apologize to me for not being the woman I thought in my arrogance tha
t you were?” he asked, a new gentleness in his voice. “I don’t want that.”
She swallowed, dreading the question even as she asked it. “What do you want?”
A wisp of a smile turned up one corner of his sensuous mouth. “I could answer that in a monosyllable,” he teased, watching the color come and go in her cheeks. “But, I won’t.” He shot back his white cuff and glanced at his watch. “We’d better get moving, honey. I ordered the table for seven-thirty, sharp. Ready?”
Confused by his sudden change of mood, she nodded absently and went to get her long black coat with its lush mink collar—an extravagance she’d once regretted.
He opened the door for her but caught her gently by the arm as she started out.
“I’m glad the first time was with me,” he said in a strange, low tone.
Her face went beet red. She couldn’t seem to meet his eyes as they walked together to the elevator.
He took her to a quiet restaurant downtown, with white linen tablecloths and white candles on the tables, and a live string quartet playing chamber music. It was cozy, and intimate, and the food was exquisite. But she hardly tasted it. Her mind was whirling with questions. He seemed to sense her confusion as they lingered over a second cup of rich coffee. He set his cup down in the saucer abruptly and leaned back in his chair, studying her with a single-minded intensity that began to wear on her nerves.
“You’re very lovely,” he said without preamble.
“Thank you,” she replied, and lifted her empty cup to her lips to give her nervous hands something to do.
He drew an ashtray closer and started to reach for his cigarettes when the waiter came back, and he paused long enough to order another cup of coffee for them before he finished the action.
“Men my age get used to a routine of sorts with women, Carla,” he said gently, blowing out a cloud of gray smoke from his cigarette. “You disrupted mine.”
“I…hadn’t thought you’d expect that from me,” she said falteringly. “Not so soon, at least,” she added with a wistful smile. “I thought I’d have time to…”
“Don’t start that again,” he said. “I should have known what an innocent you are. All the signs were there, like banners. I was just too blind to see them. Anyway,” he added with a brief smile, “there was no harm done.”
“Wasn’t there?” she asked, gazing quietly at the hard lines of his leonine face. They never semed to soften very much, she thought, even in passion—especially in passion. She flushed. “You were so angry,” she recalled.
He chuckled softly. “Yes, I was. Hurting like hell, like I hadn’t hurt since years before I married. I could have choked you to death. Not knowing the whole story, I thought you were playing hard-to-get. And to tell the truth, I hadn’t planned to see you again.”
That hurt, more than she’d expected. Of course, most women her age were sophisticated and more permissive. But she’d been a late bloomer in all respects. Even now, when just looking at this dark, taciturn man could make her heart do flips, she couldn’t consider an affair. She knew instinctively that it would tear her to pieces emotionally, especially when it ended. And it would end sometime. He was too sophisticated and far too worldly, to be satisfied with a novice for long.
“Why did you change your mind?” she asked gently.
He lifted his coffee cup with a well-manicured hand. “Because I missed you.” A fleeting smile played around his chiseled lips. “It was unexpected. I’ve had women around since my wife died, but only briefly, and in one capacity. It occurred to me, belatedly, that I enjoyed having you around.” He looked straight into her eyes. “In any capacity.”
Her lips felt suddenly dry, and she moistened them with the tip of her tongue. “I couldn’t handle an affair with you,” she said hesitantly.
“I won’t ask you to. But, if you don’t mind, honey,” he added with a wry smile, “I think we’ll keep it low key. I can’t handle frustration. It plays hell with my temper.”
She smiled self-consciously, remembering. Her jade eyes looked into his. “I hope you know that I wasn’t playing coy,” she added seriously.
“I know it now.” His dark eyes studied that portion of her above the table with a sensuous boldness that made her heart thump. “I’d say I wish I’d known it sooner, but I don’t. I can still close my eyes and taste you.”
She felt the heat in her face. “Low key, I believe you said?” she said breathlessly.
“Honey, for me this is low key.” He chuckled. “Finish your coffee, and we’ll take in a movie before we go home. Do you like science fiction?”
“I love it!” she said incredulously. “Don’t tell me you’re a sci-fi fan, too?”
“Don’t let it get around but I sat through two showings of Star Wars,” he replied with a smile. “And if you aren’t in a hurry for your beauty sleep, I’ll sit you through two showings of this one.”
“Who wants to sleep?” she asked, gulping down the rest of the rich coffee. “Why are you sitting there?” she asked, standing. “The box office opens again at nine!”
“Just give me a minute to ease my aching old bones out of the chair,” he chuckled, leaning forward to stamp out his cigarette.
“Shall I get you a cane?” she asked with a mischievous smile. Her eyes traced his formidable bulk as he rose. “Or maybe a forklift?” she added, measuring him with her eyes.
“I’m not that big.”
“You’re not small,” she returned. “I’ll bet that’s why you got elected.”
He scowled. “What is?”
“Your size. The voters simply couldn’t see your opponents when they were out campaigning against you.”
His leonine head lifted, and he stared down his straight nose at her through narrowed, glittering eyes. “You,” he said, “are incorrigible.”
“Look who’s calling who names,” she replied saucily. “You wrote the book on it.”
He smiled down at her, a slow, wicked smile that was echoed by the look in his eyes. “Has anyone ever told you that this kind of teasing raises a man’s blood pressure at least ten points?”
She turned and started toward the cashier’s counter. “I won’t do it any more,” she promised. “At your age, that could be extremely dangerous.”
“Why, you little…”
“You’re the one who was complaining about your age, not me,” she reminded him.
“You make me feel it,” he said with exasperation in his voice.
She waited patiently while he paid the check, her eyes drawn to an impressionistic study of ballerinas on a huge canvas on the wall. The delicate pink and white contrasts were exquisitely implied.
“Do you like ballet?” he asked at her shoulder.
“Very much,” she replied, turning to follow him out onto the sidewalk. “I studied ballet for two years, until they convinced me that I simply didn’t have the discipline to be good at it.”
“Discipline smooths the rough edges around any talent,” he said with a sideways glance. “But I’d have said you have it, as far as reporting goes.”
“Thank you,” she said gravely. “I try to do my best. Although sometimes, it’s easier than others. I could have gone through the ground that day I got into it with Edward King on your ghetto tour.”
He raised a heavy eyebrow at her. “That wasn’t the end of it, either,” he informed her. “I got an earful when I walked into my office.”
She flushed. “He was pretty mad, I guess,” she probed.
“Putting it mildly, he was frothing at the mouth,” he replied.
She drew in a weary breath. “I’m bound to do my job,” she said quietly. “I still feel that Mr. King is being unnecessarily evasive about that land purchase, and I intend to pursue it until I get the truth.”
His jaw tautened. “I think you’re making a mountain out of a lump, little girl,” he said flatly. “Ed’s like a mule. When someone tries to force him along, he balks. It’s in his nature.”
“And not being
put off is in mine,” she returned with spirit. She stopped under a streetlight and stared up at him. “Why can’t I see the records of the land purchase?”
“I told you before, you’ll have to knock that around with Ed. I’m not interfering,” he said gruffly.
“Green says…” She caught herself just in time. It wouldn’t do to give away her hand, even though she was dying to know if Green’s accusation about Moreland and King being such thick friends was true. And it was beginning to look bad; almost as if Moreland was involved, and had something to hide.
“Yes?” he said curtly, taking her up on the unfinished statement, his face like a thundercloud. “What does he say?”
She shrugged. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I forget to leave my job at the office.”
He said nothing, leading her to the parked car in an ominous silence. “I’d better get you into the theater before we come to blows,” he said, and she could hear the anger in his voice.
She felt a twinge of guilt, glancing at his set features as he climbed behind the wheel and started the black Jaguar.
“I’m sorry,” she said gently.
Something in his posture relaxed. He pulled out into the traffic, all without looking at her. “Let’s leave politics alone from now on. We both tend to overheat a little.”
“All right,” she agreed. She glanced at him again, her eyes searching his dark face for some softening. There was none.
“I don’t hold it against you that you’re the mayor,” she reminded him.
A hint of a smile flared briefly on his lips. “I’ll trade jobs any time you like.”
“No, thanks.” Her eyes were drawn to his dark, beautiful hands as he controlled the powerful car with ease and skill. The onyx ring on his little finger sparkled in the sporadic streetlights. “Why did you want to be mayor, anyway?”
“Are we conducting an interview?” he mused.
“No,” she said, “but I’m curious.”
“I saw some things that needed to be done. They weren’t being done. I thought I could do them,” he said.
“And, have you?” she asked, genuinely curious, because her brief time in the city wasn’t enough for her to know.
