Reckless Passion

by Stephanie James

  But she'd blithely freed him of the obligation, and what male in his right mind wouldn't be willing enough to accept that freedom? What a fool she had been! For the second morning in a row!

  In that moment it was hard to know which of them was the more inviting target for her anger: herself or Yale.

  Grabbing a turquoise robe from the closet, Dara flung it on and stalked into the bathroom. It was al­ready turning into a steam bath from the hot water Yale was using in such liberal quantities.

  "What the hell do you mean 'okay'?" she de­manded over the noise of the shower. She could see his shadowy movements behind the yellow curtain.

  "Okay means okay," he called back laconically. "You set the price last night. If you don't want to collect full payment, that's your prerogative."

  "The price! Is that all you ever think about? Yes­terday you were willing to pay the price by handing over your account! This morning you were willing to...to marry me! Don't you mind the cost?" she bit out.

  There was an instant's pause, and then Yale pulled back the shower curtain far enough to smile at her. There was a knee-weakening tenderness in the smile. There was also the devilish flash of gold.

  "The fact that I'm willing to pay it should tell you how much I want you," he pointed out gently. "But if you're too generous to collect..." He let the sen­tence trail off significantly.

  She glared at him, vividly aware of the way the water streamed across his head and shoulders, plas­tering the honey hair to his head and making the smooth, strong contours of his chest and arms glisten. She loved him, she acknowledged again, glumly, and he was playing games with her. He had been from the beginning. She had no one to blame but herself.

  And at last, two mornings too late, everything crys­tallized. She had fallen in love at first sight with a man who returned the physical attraction, but nothing deeper. It wasn't altogether his fault, either. She had allowed the situation to race out of control. She had succumbed so easily there had been no time for Yale to get to know her as a human being. On his demand during the past forty-eight hours she had handed over everything of herself with only token resistance. He was honest enough to be willing to pay her price, but he hadn't fallen in love.

  With the cool, clear assessment of hindsight, Dara realized finally what she had done. At the age of thirty she should know enough about men to realize they didn't fall head over heels in love at first sight. A man's emotions were far more primitive. Men were quite capable of wanting a woman and wanting her badly after a short acquaintance, but falling in love was a much more complicated and lengthy business.

  If there was to be any hope for her relationship with Yale Ransom, Dara told herself with chilling caution, she would have to go back to the beginning and start the relationship from scratch.

  She drew a deep breath and smiled back at the man in her shower, a smile unlike any he'd had from her so far. A smile few people ever saw.

  "It's not that I'm too generous," she began with icy sarcasm. He arched an eyebrow, waiting for the other shoe to drop. "But I am much too smart to let the emotions of a wild weekend lead me into making a major mistake. We've only known each other for two days, Yale. Marriage would be a horrendous mis­take. I only said that last night to try to stop you from seducing me." She shrugged with deliberate self-mockery. "But you're good. Very good."

  Something moved in the depths of the hazel eyes, but the wicked smile still played about his hard mouth. "Thank you for the compliment. I shall do my best to continue to live up to the expectations I've created."

  She'd struck some sort of nerve, but Dara couldn't begin to figure out what was going on in his mind now. He had a certain watchfulness about him. As if he were paying out rope and waiting to see how much she would take before she obligingly hanged herself.

  "I'm sure you will," she acknowledged politely. "With some other woman."

  "I'm content with the one I've got," he drawled, ignoring the hot water which was being wasted by the gallon. He was deliberately challenging her, and Dara felt more than ready for the battle.

  "How kind of you," she murmured. "My turn to accept the compliment, I suppose. But I'm afraid I have other plans for other weekends. This one has been...interesting, to say the least, but not something I intend to make a practice of repeating."

  "No?" The single word was edged with humor and a masculine certainty that annoyed Dara.

  "No," she replied very calmly. Then she glanced down the front of her fluffy robe, taking in her figure with an amused expression. "I'm aware of the fact that men sometimes get the notion I'm a lit­tle...soft..."

  "And cuddly?" he added helpfully, following her glance with an assessing one of her own.

  "And cuddly," she agreed with a rueful sigh. "I haven't given you much reason to think otherwise, either. But I'm afraid the body nature gave me doesn't totally reflect the whole woman."

  "What's hidden?" he asked lightly. "What haven't I already seen?"

  "Believe it or not, I can be extraordinarily stub­born." She chuckled.

  "Are you trying to tell me in your own devious fashion that you're not going to sleep with me again?" he demanded, looking fascinated.

  "For a country boy, you're quite sharp at times." She smiled.

  He ignored that. "What makes you think I can't make last night and the night before happen again and again?"

  "Once I've made a decision and know what I'm doing, I'm quite unswerving." That was nothing less than the truth.

  "You said something like this yesterday morning, as I recall."

  "No," she responded coolly. "Yesterday morning I was madder than hell. It was inevitable I should get over that. I never stay angry long." She smiled rem-iniscently. "And you were very pleasant last night."

  "You're not trying to retaliate for some imagined slight this morning?"

  "Nope. I'm merely trying to tell you that the week­end is coming to an end."

  "And if I said I wanted to go on seeing you?" he prodded, the smallest hint of impatience in his words.

  "I'd tell you that you're welcome to call. Just don't expect to spend the night again."

  "Why not?"

  "Because, in spite of the impression I'm afraid you've gotten this weekend, I don't leap into casual affairs."

  "The past forty-eight hours represent a temporary aberration, is that it?" he retorted broodingly.

  "It happens to all of us on occasion." She sighed wryly. "But that doesn't mean one has to make a practice of it. If you want to continue seeing me, Yale, I'm willing. I enjoy your company. But I give you fair warning that I'm putting this weekend behind me, where it belongs, and returning to reality."

  He watched her for a heartbeat and then he said very softly, "Come here, Dara."

  She tilted her head, wary of his intentions. "Why?"

  "I want to show you something."

  "I can see all I need to see from here," she mut­tered, refusing to let her gaze slip farther than his chest. She wished he would close the curtain.

  "Scared?"

  "Of course not!"

  "Then come a little closer, honey," he urged per­suasively.

  "Yale, I'd like you to hurry and get out of that shower so you can be on your way before my neigh­bors are all awake," she instructed him resolutely, turning on her heel and opening the bathroom door.

  He closed in on her as her hand came down on the doorknob. Dripping wet, he pulled her around and whipped the fluffy robe off her shoulders.

  "Yale! You're getting water all over the floor! What do you think you're doing?" Her protest was a startled squeak of alarm that didn't seem to faze him in the least.

  "There are a few more things we need to discuss," he told her, forcing her now nude body into the shower ahead of him. "And something tells me we'll communicate better this way!"

  "Stop it!" she snapped even as the hot water drenched her. "I'm in no mood for any of your games!"

  "Speaking of games," he began easily, wrapping one arm around her breasts a
nd holding her still while he industriously began to scrub her back, "just what sort do you think you're playing this morning?"

  She felt his strong hands working steadily down her tapering back, moving slickly on her wet skin, and she wanted to give herself up to the sensuous moment. But that was impossible. Too much was rid­ing on her willpower, and once the Bancroft will of iron had been invoked, nothing could bend it.

  "What games?" she charged tightly. "I've told you not to assume from this weekend that I'm willing to engage in a full-scale affair with you. That's all!"

  "You've also told me you're no longer interested in collecting the fee for last night's charming surren­der. Funny, I could have sworn at the time you had every intention of doing so!"

  He soaped the contour of her waist and then, tan-talizingly, began to make slippery forays over her hips. Helpless in the one-armed grip, Dara steeled herself against the onslaught.

  "It was not a surrender, damn it," she grated, knowing her temper was beginning to fray under the pressure. "I don't know how things work back in the mountains, but out here on the Coast, women occa­sionally go to bed with men because they feel like it! It doesn't constitute a surrender in any sense of the word!"

  . "Then why the insistence on marriage?" he re­torted, his fingers gliding more slowly now as he shaped the resilient flesh of her buttocks. "If you were only going to bed with me because I took your fancy for the moment, why demand marriage?"

  "I told you, I was trying to stop you from seducing me!"

  "You didn't have the willpower to simply say no?" he taunted.

  "Not then," she admitted grimly. "But I do now. The weekend, Yale, is over!"

  "I've got news for you, sweetheart," he growled, turning her in his arms and staring down into her upturned face without smiling. "It's just beginning. I want you now. You've pushed your way into my life. Seduced me would be a better term, I suppose. You know more about me than anyone else has known for years. You've given me just enough of your lovely, soft body to make me want a lot more, and you've let me see what I can do to you. One weekend isn't going to satisfy me. I was willing to pay for what I want with marriage, but if you don't want that, there isn't any way I can force you into it. I'll take what's left, which is an affair."

  "Not on your life!" she flared, eyes burning an emerald color as she defied him.

  His hands were around her waist, moving upward until his thumbs found the rosy tips of her breasts. "You don't mean that," he whispered deeply, cir­cling the sensitive nipples deliberately. "You've al­ready said I could continue seeing you...."

  "You can," she flung back icily. "But if you want to date me, Yale, you must understand that this re­lationship is going back to square one. You would have to forget about the weekend and pretend we had just met."

  "What man could forget a weekend like this?" he asked huskily, bending down beneath the hot spray to drop a knowing little kiss on her forehead.

  "I know it's all my fault," Dara groaned, closing her eyes.

  "Very generous of you to take the blame," he commended, his lips moving to her temples.

  "I let things get out of control," she went on sadly. "I handled it completely wrong, I admit that."

  "And now you're going to try and retreat to a po­sition where you can handle it properly, is that it?"He chuckled, his hands cupping her breasts with in­creasing urgency.

  "Yes!" she vowed.

  "Such determination," he drawled with lazy inter­est. She knew he was becoming aroused again. His stamina was a little frightening!

  "When I finally get around to making a decision, Yale, nothing can change my mind."

  "And you've decided you let me go too far, too fast?"

  "Exacdy."

  "It's done, honey," he said silkily, propelling her closer until she could feel the sexual tautness in him. "You can't go back...."

  "I'm thirty years old, Yale Ransom," she an­nounced with cool fortitude. "I can do anything I damn please!"

  Whirling so quickly she caught him by surprise, Dara stepped away from his slippery hold and out onto the rug. She grabbed the nearest towel and hur­riedly pulled it around her dripping body. He tugged back the curtain once more and stood regarding her for all the world like an annoyed shark which had just lost its prey. Did sharks have hazel eyes that gleamed like the gold in their teeth?

  "I don't understand you this morning," he com­plained, sounding aggrieved.

  "Precisely my point," she flung back, starting for the door again. "The problem with wild weekends is that the activities tend to be too limited in scope. We've made a lot of love during the past two days, Yale, but you know almost nothing about me. The only reason I've learned something about you is be­cause I kept pressing for information. We're still a long way from a genuine communication. I should have had the sense to realize that too much sex too early in a relationship severely hampers the task of getting to know each other! Frankly, I'm not inter­ested in a relationship based solely on the physical side of things!"

  With royal disdain, Dara slammed out of the bath­room. Her mind was made up. The future path lay as sharply marked before her as if it were lit with neon lights.

  She was dressed in jeans and a snappy plaid shirt, cracking eggs into a skillet, when Yale emerged from the bathroom and came to lean in the kitchen door­way. She ignored his appraising glance even though it seemed to burn through the fabric of her shirt.

  "So you're at least going to feed me before kicking me out, hmm?"

  "Don't knock it. I'm a good cook." Dara surveyed the toast with a watchful eye. "The Sunday paper's over there on the table if you want to occupy yourself while I'm fixing breakfast."

  "Very homey," he muttered dryly as he detached himself from the doorframe and wandered over to the round glass table by the kitchen window. He stood beside the fern on the tall plant stand and scanned the headlines, hazel eyes narrowed behind the lenses of his glasses.

  Eyeing him covertly, Dara knew his mind wasn't on the morning news. Encouraged, she poured a cup of coffee and carried it over to him. He looked up as he accepted the mug, the grooves around the edges of his mouth tight.

  "Dara, about last night..."

  "How do you like your eggs? Over easy or sunny-side up?"

  "I don't much care at the moment," he rapped. "I'm trying to talk to you about us, damn it!'

  "So talk. I'm listening."

  She turned away, opened a kitchen drawer and be­gan dragging out flatware. Yale flung himself into a chair and watched morosely as she set the table with smooth, efficient movements. She could sense him searching for the words he wanted.

  "Honey, we can't calmly go back to the beginning and start over," he finally began in an eminently rea­sonable tone of voice that made her want to smile: the rational male was attempting to deal with the ir­rational female.

  "Then we can call it quits right here," she said easily. "Or we can maintain a business relationship, I suppose—that is, if you still want to give Edison, Stanford and Zane your account. There, that's at least two other alternatives I can think of at the moment," she concluded brightly, dishing up the bacon and eggs and toast.

  "I have no intention of following either sugges­tion!" he growled as she set the food in front of him.

  "Then you can go back to the beginning and we can start from scratch. Take your pick." She sat down opposite him and shot Yale a dazzling smile as she picked up her fork.

  He watched her through narrowed lids, the fingers of his right hand drumming with ill-concealed impa­tience on the cheerful striped tablecloth.

  "What if I agree to do that and then prove you can't resist me?" he offered coolly.

  His self-confidence hardened her resolve as nothing else could have done. “You mean agree to start over and then deliberately seduce me? It wouldn't work. Not now. I've made up my mind, Yale. You haven't known me long enough to realize exactly what that means. We'll go as far as I want, and then I'll send you home. Just as I would any other date."
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  "Are you issuing a challenge?" he asked, finally picking up his fork, unable to ignore his food any longer.

  "No, I'm telling you how it's going to be between us, Yale,'' she explained patiently. “I want a normal, properly developed relationship, or I want nothing at all. As interesting as this weekend has been, it was a mistake. It won't happen again."

  "You're very sure of yourself this morning. Yes­terday morning you were in a flaming rage," he noted calmly.

  "Yes," she agreed, her mouth quirking wryly. "I was. But when I'm in a rage, which is rather rare, I'm not at my most dangerous. It's when I'm cool, organized and know where I'm going next that I'm a force to contend with."

  "I'll remember that," he vowed, lifting his coffee cup.

  "You certainly will," she promised sweetly. "More coffee?" He held out his cup without a word. She could practically see him turning over her responses in his mind.

  "You want the Southern gentleman back, is that it?" he asked finally. "You like the man you met at the party but not the one you found yourself with in a motel room out on the Interstate?"

  "Stop trying to pretend you're two different men, Yale. Both aspects of you are part of the whole. There's no point trying to deny one or the other. Ac­tually" —she smiled warmly— "they go together rather nicely."

  He looked a little taken aback, as if he hadn't ex­pected such an admission. But he was quick to seize on the apparent weakness. "If you're attracted to both sides of me," he pounced, "why are you so deter­mined to keep me at bay?"

  "Being attracted to a man is not a good enough reason for having an affair with him!"

  "Why not?"

  "Spoken with the essence of male logic." She groaned, shaking her head so that the russet ends, still damp from her unplanned shower, danced around her throat. "The female's reasoned response to which is because it's not!"

  "Careful, Dara," he clipped, stabbing his egg vengefully. "I'm tempted to meet your response to my logic by turning you over my knee!"

  "Now, that wouldn't be very reasonable, would it?" she murmured.