Books By Diana Palmer

by Palmer, Diana

  "She'd like that."

  He checked his watch. "We'd better get go­ing. I made reservations for supper."

  "This sounds like serious eating," she said as he led her to the Lincoln.

  "It is. I hope you still like seafood."

  Her breath caught. "I do. How did you re­member that, after all this time?"

  He got in beside her and cranked the engine. "You'd be surprised at some of the things I remember about you," he replied. "You were memorable."

  She averted her eyes. "So were you."

  He drove quietly for several minutes. "I hurt you."

  "Inevitably," she agreed. "But, before..." She cleared her throat.

  "Before?" he prompted.

  She turned her purse over in her lap. "Be­fore ... it was... wonderful.''

  "For me, too," he said stiffly. "A feast of first times. I'd never touched a woman that intimately in my life."

  She smiled shyly. "I know. I'm glad."

  He glanced at her ruefully. "Thank God you weren't experienced," he murmured.

  "Why?"

  "You'd have laughed your head off at all that fumbling."

  "Don't be silly," she replied. "No matter what you'd done, it would have been wonder­ful. I loved you, you know," she added hus­kily, and she didn't look at him.

  "Well, that's nice to know," he told her. "Because I was head over heels in love with you, too."

  Chapter 5

  She gaped at him. "You were?"

  He didn't look at her. "Didn't you know?" he asked softly. "Everyone else did. It was why I couldn't face you the next morning. It had been the most exquisite experience of my life. But I had no way of knowing for sure if you were innocent, even though I suspected it. I was afraid you'd laugh at me."

  "As if I could, ever!" she exclaimed. "I worked for you for two years. Didn't that give you some clue to my character?"

  "I never knew you intimately," he ex­plained. "And most women these days are very experienced and they expect a lot in bed.

  I wasn't sure I could measure up to those ex­pectations. That's one reason I shied away from being intimate. At least, until you came along." He glanced at her. "I didn't plan it, either. I drank too much and things just seemed to happen."

  "I know. It was like that for me, too, noth­ing planned." She smiled, the first time she'd been able to smile about her naivete. "You might have noticed the lack of precautions..."

  He chuckled with delight. "All four feet of her," he said with a nod.

  She dropped her gaze to his chest and shook her head. "I guess we were both pretty na­ive."

  "I'm sorry," he said gravely, and his eyes were somber when hers lifted to them. "About the way I behaved, and most especially about the way things worked out for you and Crissy. I've missed so much of her life," he added. "I have years to catch up on. If you're going to let me."

  She felt startled. "Why wouldn't I?"

  His broad shoulders lifted and fell. "You have every right to hold a grudge against me for the past. I couldn't really blame you for wanting me out of your life all over again."

  The statement shocked and relieved her.

  She'd been afraid that he might sue for full custody of his daughter, but he didn't sound vindictive at all. He sounded as if the past left him guilty and empty.

  "I won't deny you access to your daughter, Tom," she said honestly. "I wouldn't do that."

  He let out the breath he'd been holding. "Thank you for that. I'd worried, you know."

  "So had I," she had to confess. "I thought you might feel vengeful toward me for not contacting you when I knew I was pregnant."

  "It was bad, wasn't it, having to have her without a husband?"

  "Fred Nash gave me respectability," she reminded him. "He was a good man, Tom. You'd have liked him. He was in a terrible condition, with no family to care for him, and he was dying. I needed a husband, he needed a companion and nurse. We helped each other. He loved Crissy as if she were his own."

  He grimaced at the thought of Elysia having to marry someone she didn't love in order to live in this small community. Respectability was important in small towns. He remembered when he and Kate had gone to live with their grandmother, and how careful she was about relating any of their past. Elysia had her brother to think of, and his business. It must have been very difficult for her. And she'd gone back to school, managing that as well as a child and a husband with cancer. His mind boggled at the stress she'd lived under.

  "What a life you must have had," he mur­mured out loud.

  She met his searching gaze. "It was difficult at times, but I have a lot to show for my sac­rifices. I've grown up."

  "So have I," he mused. "I didn't realize it until I landed here, but I suppose you had a lot to do with the maturing process. I was a late bloomer."

  "So was I," she told him. "I've learned a lot. I'm independent now. I can take care of myself and Crissy."

  His eyes narrowed. Was she telling him that she had no need of him in her life?

  "What I meant," she said when she saw the uncertainty in his dark face, "is that I wouldn't ever be a financial burden to any man. And that I wouldn't be left dangling if he left me or died."

  "I see."

  "Not that I expect you to die anytime soon," she added quickly.

  His green gaze slid over her flushed face and he smiled. “I’ll do my best not to."

  She glanced at him shyly as he stopped at a traffic light. It seemed unreal to be sitting beside him in a car after so many lonely years of nothing but memories. When she'd worked for him in New York, they'd often spent their lunch hours talking about the places they'd seen, the people they met. He always had time for those conversations. It had never occurred to her that, as busy as he usually was, he was making the time he gave her. Now, it mattered.

  His head turned toward her and he caught her searching gaze. He smiled. "I still can't quite get over it," he mused. "You don't look like a woman who's had a child."

  “Thank you," she replied.

  "Did you have her naturally?" he asked.

  She shook her head. "That wasn't possible. I have a quirky little heart defect—nothing se­rious, except when I have a lot of physical stress. I had an arrythmia that wouldn't stop and they had to take Crissy. I have a scar. It's faint, but noticeable."

  "I should have been there," he said quietly, reproaching himself mentally. "Your husband couldn't be, could he?" he added suddenly.

  She grimaced. "He'd just had chemotherapy and he was so sick...Luke drove me to the hospital and stayed with me all the time. I don't know what I'd have done without him."

  He was somber, and he didn't speak again until they were almost to Houston.

  "You could have died," he said.

  She studied his hard face. "I didn't."

  He drew in a heavy breath. "All that suf­

  fering, all that loneliness, because I was too

  ashamed to tell you the truth."

  "I understand." And it was true, she did. She smiled gently at him. "A man's pride is a hard thing to give up. But I wouldn't have made fun of you if you'd told me. I think..."

  "You think..." he prompted, when she didn't finish her sentence.

  "I think it would made it easier," she con­fessed. "I was very nervous and upset because I thought you'd had dozens of women, and I was so inexperienced. I didn't even know what to do exactly." She flushed, averting her eyes to the darkness outside the window, broken intermittently by the lights of Houston in the distance. "I thought you wouldn't talk to me because I'd disappointed you."

  "I was thinking the same thing, about my­self," he added. He shook his head. "What a couple of prize idiots we were. At least you had your age as an excuse. All I had was an overdose of pride. I'm sorry."

  “You said yourself that we have a second chance, Tom," she replied.

  His breathing was audible. "We do. And we're going to make the most of it." His eyes darted toward her face. "You won't get away from me this
time, Mrs. Nash," he mused. "No matter how far or fast you run."

  "I don't think I want to run anymore," she told him.

  "Good. Because I'm getting too old to run."

  She chuckled. "You'll get over that if you're around Crissy much more. She loves all sports. Just wait until school starts!"

  "I'm rather looking forward to a real Christmas for once," he said. "I haven't had one since Kate and I left our grandmother's house. I miss decorating a tree and having presents to open."

  "We'll see that you have both," she prom­ised, her gray eyes twinkling.

  The restaurant he took her to was in the best section of Houston, an elegant one with no prices on the menu at all and a table near the window overlooking the canal that brought sea traffic into the city. Huge ships were visible in the distance, and she imagined that in the day­light, sea gulls dipped and soared everywhere here.

  "This is very nice," she remarked.

  "Yes, it is," he agreed. "I used to come here with business clients when I worked in Houston. Never with a woman, though, except once," he added with a cold look.

  "Bad experience?" she queried softly.

  "She was one of those very aggressive businesswomen who liked sex as a sideline. I wouldn't play ball and I lost a very big con­tract." He glanced at her warmly. "If you could have seen the look on her face. She was very attractive and she tried every trick in the book."

  "And you wouldn't?" she asked, fasci­nated.

  "I couldn't," he replied. He smiled softly, searching her lovely face. "I haven't ever wanted another woman. Only you."

  She flushed. "Isn't that...unusual?"

  "I don't know," he said honestly. "I'm not experienced." Amazing how easy it was to ad­mit that to her. He toyed with his fork. "I just didn't feel anything at all, not even when we danced and she plastered herself against me.

  She was experienced enough to know that she wasn't having an effect. She walked out of the restaurant in a huff, without finishing her food."

  "I guess her pride was hurt."

  He smiled. "She called me the next week to apologize," he added.

  “I’ll bet that surprised you."

  "Shocked me," he agreed. "But she was sure she'd guessed why it was like that. She said that I'd been an idiot to let the right woman get away, and that I was worth ten of the men she'd done business with. I got the contract after all."

  "I hope you don't still have it," she said icily.

  His eyebrows shot up with patent delight. "Yes, I do," he told her. Then he added, "Hers, and her brand-new husband's."

  She flushed again. "Oh."

  "Jealous?" he teased.

  She glared at him. "Of course I'm jealous," she said irritably. "You're the only man I've ever known...that way."

  He stared down at the fork instead of at her. "I've wondered ever since that night how it would be if we were totally honest with each other, if we had no secrets at all." His thumb pressed the fork down absently and his jaw tautened. "I've read a lot of books since that night. I think I could make it more pleasur­able...now."

  She lifted her eyes to his. Her breath seemed to catch in her throat as she met that smolder­ing glance. "Tonight?"

  His cheeks went ruddy. "I hadn't thought about it that soon."

  She didn't drop her gaze. "But you want to."

  His jaw clenched. "My God, of course I want to," he said in a harsh undertone. "It's all I think about lately."

  "I'm glad," she replied. "Because it's all I've thought about since we kissed last night in my kitchen."

  His hand slipped across the small table and caught hers, fingers interlacing. His skin felt as hot as her own did. His eyes were steady, unblinking.

  "I love you," he said roughly.

  Her eyes seemed to melt into his. "I love you, too, Tom," she whispered.

  The heat that look generated made her body swell uncomfortably. Her gaze dropped to his mouth and she ached to feel it on her mouth, on her body.

  "Dear God, we've ordered food," he whis­pered with wry humor. "I'll choke!"

  "So will I," she confessed, taking a slow breath. "But now that we're here..."

  "We might as well eat."

  She laughed self-consciously, and so did he. The waiter came seconds later with seafood platters. And they did eat, but lightly. Dessert was bypassed, along with second cups of cof­fee.

  There was a good hotel downtown. Elysia felt uneasy about going there with Tom, but she was as hungry for him as he seemed to be for her.

  He paid for the room very nonchalantly for an inexperienced man, and escorted her into the crowded elevator, holding her hand tightly until they reached the right floor.

  He opened the door, guided her inside and didn't even turn on the light. His arms envel­oped her, like his mouth. He didn't say a sin­gle word.

  The bed was king-size, huge. There was only a little light filtering in through the win­dow from the city streetlights and scattered neon signs. She couldn't see him very well. It was like their first time. Except that now they knew each other and it would be an act of love.

  When she felt his nudity against her own, she moaned softly with unexpected pleasure. She hadn't remembered that exquisite sensa­tion until she felt it again. Her arms reached up around his neck, her hands buried them­selves in his thick black hair as his mouth gently teased her neck and then her breasts.

  He must have been reading more than a few books, she thought as she began to gasp and move helplessly under the expert caresses of his hard mouth.

  "Here?" he whispered roughly. "And here?"

  "Y...yes!" she cried out, arching.

  "Dear God, this is sweet," he murmured as his mouth moved against hers again. "So sweet!"

  Her legs parted for him. She buried her face in his hot throat and held on, shivering a little as he touched her and then moved down.

  But it wasn't like the first time.

  He paused to kiss her, until her tense body relaxed, opened itself to the most intimate ca­resses. She sighed under the teasing of his mouth and lifted her body to meet the slow descent of his hips.

  It was a little painful, because it had been so long. But after a few seconds, her body accommodated him easily. He slid into her and lay there, unmoving, his kiss soft on her closed eyelids, her cheeks. His hands lifted her and he pushed, tenderly. She shivered. He did it again, listening to her breathing as it changed. He moved with slow sensuality from side to side, and then again in the tender rhythm. She cried out and clutched him.

  "We're like children learning to dance," he breathed into her mouth, and she could feel the smile on it. "I want it to last forever. I don't want to climax. I don't want you to. I want to move against you and inside you this way until we grow old."

  "I can't...live..." she said, choking.

  He moved again, hearing her soft cry of pleasure. "Yes, you can, sweetheart," he breathed. He rolled over onto his back and moved her on his body, laughing with wicked pleasure at the sounds she was making. His hands bit into her hips, demanding now, pull­ing and pushing and maneuvering until she lost her head and bit his shoulder in anguish.

  "Do it," she sobbed against his collarbone. "Oh, please, please, do it...now!"

  "I forgot that part," he whispered at her ear as he moved her onto her side and eased one slender leg over his hip to ease his passage. "Your body is capable of more than one ful­fillment. Here...let me..."

  He moved sharply and she cried out and convulsed. He felt her body contract and then expand as she shook and sobbed her ecstasy against his damp chest. When she relaxed, he kissed her eyes and soothed her. But he was still capable and showed no signs of tiring.

  "Didn't...you?" she whispered shyly.

  His lean hand smoothed over her disheveled hair. "Not yet," he whispered back, smiling. "I'm enjoying you far too much to let it end for me just yet." He hesitated. "I'm not hurt­ing you?"

  "No!"

  "Not even when I do this?" he breathed, and pushed down hungril
y.

  She groaned, her legs wrapping around him hungrily. "No!" she gasped.

  He laughed wickedly as he turned her a lit­tle roughly under him and began to kiss her all over again. "If only I could stop time,” he whispered into her open mouth. And then he felt the heat rising in him, too, and it was im­possible to say anything else.

  "Elysia."

  She heard the deep voice and opened her eyes. The light beside the bed was on. But it wasn't her bed. And there was a masculine face that needed a shave looming just above her own.

  Her eyes opened wider. "Tom?"

  He nodded. He touched her swollen lips ten­derly. "It's two in the morning. Wake up."

  She searched his eyes. There was no reti­cence there now, no shame or guilt. But there was love, and deep pride.

  She smiled.

  He smiled back. He bent and touched his mouth lightly to hers. "Come on," he whis­pered. "Get up now."

  He pulled the covers off slowly and looked at her while she looked at him. Her face col­ored a little, but she didn't avert her eyes until they were full of him. She looked up into his eyes.

  "I've never seen a man without his clothes. Not even you, before."

  "I've never seen a woman," he whispered. "You look as sweet as you feel."

  She smiled. "So do you."

  He cocked a wicked eyebrow. "I feel sweet?"

  She colored again. "You tortured me," she whispered.

  "I know." He bent and touched his lips ten­derly to the tip of her firm breast. "I tortured myself, too. I never dreamed it would feel like that. The first time was good, but this was...indescribable," he said finally.

  "You cried out," she whispered, searching his eyes. "Your whole body convulsed for so long that it frightened me."

  "You aren't the only one it frightened," he managed to say huskily. "No book I ever read prepared me for what I felt."

  "Yes, I understand what you mean." She touched his chest, letting her fingers curl into the thick, black hair on it. "You aren't ashamed?" she asked, because she had to know.

  He shook his head. His eyes narrowed. "Unless you were taking something, we made a baby," he whispered.