by Peggy Webb
“More than you’ll ever know.”
Her remark seemed to please him. His smile was that of a man who knew he’d devastated a woman. That’s what he was doing, she decided—devastating her. Whether it was their proximity or too many years of denial or merely his own overpowering presence, she didn’t know; furthermore, she didn’t want to know. She simple wanted to survive Jim Roman’s invasion of her quiet Delta home and get back to the work she loved.
“More than your exotic man?” he asked suddenly.
She jerked out of his reach. “What?”
Jim crammed his hands into his pockets and began to pace the small, cramped attic. “You mentioned an exotic man this morning. Who is he?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Anything that keeps a gorgeous woman from my bed is my business.”
“Why, you arrogant jackass.” She jerked the pins from the wedding veil and pulled it from her hair. Turning her back on Jim, she folded the veil into the box. “I wouldn’t come to your bed if you were begging me on bended knee.”
“Is that why you kiss me the way you do?”
“I kiss all men that way.”
He was behind her, turning her in his arms. “Even your exotic man?” His eyes blazed down into hers. “Who is he?”
The heat of his touch coursed through her. Her passion threatened to consume her. She willed herself back under control.
Keeping her voice level, she glared at him. “His name is Rai Ghayami, and he was more man than you will ever be.”
She saw the power in Jim’s gaze mere seconds before his mouth crushed down on hers. She had meant to hold herself stiff against him this time, but there was a savage fury in the kiss that shook her resolve. Something in her rose to meet that power.
One of them groaned—she wasn’t sure who—then they were clinging to each other, their bodies rocking together in the love battle they knew so well. She felt his hands working the small buttons on the back of her dress, felt the satin and lace being slipped from her shoulders. His lips left hers and burned across her throat, then moved downward to sear along the tops of her breasts.
She leaned her head back, unconsciously offering herself up to him while still telling herself that she was in complete control.
Suddenly she felt herself being pushed away. Holding the wedding dress over her breasts, she looked at Jim. He had the bewildered look of a man who had set out to trap a wild animal and found himself the quarry.
“If he was so much man, he would never have let you go.” With that gruff-voiced declaration, he turned and stalked away. He was moving so fast, she thought he would behead himself on the attic doorway, but at the last minute he ducked under.
Hannah finished the job Jim had started: She pulled the wedding dress off. What would have happened if he had been the one to take it off? Judging by the way she felt, she decided the answer was fairly simple. She’d have given in to her passion.
Hanging the wedding dress carefully in the old armoire, Hannah came to a decision. She wanted Jim Roman and so she would have him—in her own way and in her own time. She’d go to him to slake the burning thirst that raged through her. The West Coast Warrior’s bed would be her proving ground. Once and for all she’d show herself that she could satisfy the needs of her body without sacrificing her career.
Her lips curved upward into a smile. Jim Roman had been right. She’d go to him. Once. Then she’d walk away.
Her smile broadened as she reached for her clothes. She’d go to him all right, but first she’d have her revenge.
o0o
Jim cursed himself all the way down the attic stairs.
He didn’t know what had happened up there. He’d gone to Hannah, telling himself he wanted to make sure she was unscathed from her adventure on the runaway stallion, and then he’d seen her in the white satin dress. It was the damned wedding dress that had made a fool of him. For a moment he’d believed Hannah was the soft, feminine woman he’d been searching for. He’d even gone so far as to be jealous of her exotic man. Good Lord, he thought. Jealous! What he needed was a good stiff drink.
He climbed into his rented car and drove to the little dive he’d discovered down on the waterfront. It was cool and dark inside, with nothing to mar the quiet except the tinkle of glasses on the polished bar and the unhurried rhythm of a lonesome blues song from the upright piano in the corner. Jim chose a table at the back of the bar near a window. Outside, the afternoon sun danced on the river.
Jim slouched into his chair, content. The sight of water always soothed him. He supposed he’d inherited that trait from his father. As the waiter brought his drink and the plaintive blues song washed over him, he wondered what other traits he’d inherited from Brick Roman. Not wanderlust. He was happy with his houseboat by the Pacific. What about irresponsibility? Was that why Brick had left, or was there some other reason? It was an old puzzle without an answer.
Reaching for his drink, Jim impatiently cast aside thoughts of his father. He turned his face to the window, seeking solace in the river. Instead of water, he saw a woman in white, a bold, exciting, irresistible woman who threatened to turn all his dreams upside down.
His glass clinked against Formica as he set it back on the table. Outside his window the setting sun put on a spectacular show. Around him, the blues wailed on. But Jim neither saw nor heard: He simply sat in his chair with his untouched glass of bourbon, seeing the image of Hannah in a white satin wedding gown.
o0o
The image of Hannah in the wedding dress stayed with Jim through the rehearsal that evening and followed him to the country club for the rehearsal dinner. Even though she was dressed in red, he still remembered the shimmering innocence of her in white.
He wondered if he might be losing his mind.
“You’ve hardly said a word all evening. Surely we’re not that boring.”
Wishes did come true, he thought as Hannah moved into the chair recently vacated by Aunt Agnes. All evening he’d watched her, willing her to come to him. And now she was at his side, as vivid and glowing as a scarlet poppy. She looked as if she’d just stepped off a roller coaster and had loved every minute of the ride. The image of her in pure white shattered with an almost audible tinkle.
“I’ve been busy taking mental notes,” he lied.
“I forgot. You have a story to write.” She laughed. “I hope you aren’t going to tell the whole truth.”
“No. I’m going to leave out the part about you outshining the bride.”
“That’s not possible. She’s radiant.”
“So are you.”
She leaned toward him and gazed earnestly into his face. “You really mean that, don’t you?”
“Yes. For tonight, I’ve put all my ulterior motives aside.”
“Please don’t be too nice, Jim.”
“Why not? I thought it might give us both a little relief from the skirmish.”
“It makes what I have to do harder.”
Jim found it impossible not to touch her when she was near. He reached out and caught a dark, shiny strand of her hair. It wrapped around his fingers as intimately as a kiss.
“And what is that, my gorgeous red vamp?”
“I have to deliver your comeuppance to you.”
He quirked his eyebrow upward. “For the horse?”
“You know darned well it’s for the horse.”
“If this is going to be as good as what you delivered in the tub, I can hardly wait.”
She grinned. “I knew that goody two shoes act wouldn’t last.”
“It’s not my style, but I try sometimes.”
“I like you better when you’re being your usual arrogant, overbearing self.”
“Then I’ll strive not to disappoint you.” He cupped the back of her neck and pulled her close for a quick, hard kiss.
Around them, the noise and laughter of the wedding party went on unheeded. The bride and groom slipped out the door to spend the rest of the evening alone, and som
e Donovans began to make their way home while others hung around to swap family tales. They left Hannah and Jim to their privacy.
Hannah pulled back from Jim, laughing. “If you thought you’d scandalize me, you’ve failed. I could pull off every stitch and parade stark naked down the middle of the dinner table, and nobody in my family would even bat an eyelash. Nobody loves a good prank better than a Donovan.”
“You call that kiss a prank? I see I’ll have to polish my technique. Perhaps you could help me.”
“Perhaps.”
Jim knew that wicked smile was coming, and when it did, he was shocked at how much he’d been counting on it
“Even better,” he said, imitating her drawl, “why don’t you do that little trick on the dinner table?”
“I have a better idea.”
“I can’t imagine anything more enticing than seeing you naked on the dinner table.”
“How about a game of poker?”
“Strip?”
“Maybe. If you promise not to beat my pants off.”
“That’s the general idea.”
Hannah stood up, taking his hand. “I have a room all set up.”
Jim only had to look at her face to see that she was up to devilment.
“You’ve already planned this?”
“Of course.”
“Revenge, I take it.”
“Only if I win.”
Jim grinned. “Then prepare to lose, Dr. Donovan. Poker is my game.”
o0o
Hannah led him to a small back room of the country club. Three of her brothers—Tanner, Theo, and Charles—already were there, sitting around a table, waiting for them. A deck of cards lay facedown on the snowy white tablecloth.
Tanner looked up and grinned. “What took you so long, Hannah?”
Theo winked at Charles. “Your lipstick’s smeared, sis.”
Hannah dragged out a chair and sat down, as unflustered as if she were on a Sunday school picnic. “Is nothing sacred around here?”
“Certainly not your love life.” Tanner reached for the cards.
Hannah grinned at Jim. “All the Donovans are crazy. You can back out if you want to.”
He pulled out the chair next to hers and deliberately pulled it so close that their thighs were touching when he sat down. “Getting cold feet, Hannah?”
“Not a chance,” she shot back.
He turned to Tanner. “Name the game.”
“Draw poker. Penny ante.”
The bidding was quick and lively. Hannah beat them all the first game by bluffing with a pair of fours. From the cool, confident way she played, Jim had been certain that she was holding a full house.
Tanner laughed at the bewildered look on Jim’s face. “She worked her way through graduate school playing poker.”
“Don’t believe a word he says. He’s just jealous because I always beat him.” Hannah picked up the cards. “My deal.”
She took the second game too. And the third and the fourth. The stack of pennies in front of her grew.
“This is getting too rich for my blood,” Charles announced. “I’m already out twenty-five cents.” He stood up to leave.
“Mine too.” Theo joined him.
Tanner tossed the cards toward Hannah. “As much as I’d like to stay and get revenge, I have more exciting things to do.”
Hannah grinned. “Give Amanda my love. And tell her thanks for letting me borrow you for a while.”
The Donovan men took their boisterous leave, and Jim was left alone with Hannah. His gaze sizzled over her. The only sign that his scrutiny bothered her was the heightened color of her cheeks and the quick movement of her hands as she shuffled the cards.
At last he broke the silence. “I always thought I wanted a sweet old-fashioned girl.”
“Don’t you?”
“You make me wonder.”
Hannah had meant to give some flip reply and get on with her revenge, but as she looked at Jim, she realized what she felt for him was more than passion, more than a passing attraction. She was responding to the person he was, the warm, witty, altogether nice man who fit into her family with grace and ease. She’d watched him charm her mother, win over her father and her brothers, and delight her nieces and nephews. She’d even watched him settle her mother into a chair with a cup of coffee while he cleaned up the breakfast dishes for the entire Donovan clan.
The cards fluttered to the table, silent. “You make me wonder too.” she said.
“Wonder what?”
“Wonder if I’ve made the right choices. Wonder if my work will always be enough.”
“Do you want to call the whole thing off, Hannah?”
She was still for a while, thinking over his proposition.
“How much of it?”
“The revenge.”
“Merely the revenge?”
He laughed. “Only the revenge. The challenge was mine. It stands.”
Ahhh, she thought, he’s a dangerous man. Hannah had always loved danger. She supposed that was one of the reasons she kept exploring the depths of the ocean: There was always the danger—and the mystery.
“Nothing is called off.” Smiling, she picked up the cards and began to shuffle. “Strip poker, Jim. Lock the door and ante up.”
He grinned. “My coat against your dress.”
“Done.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Hannah still had her dress.
Jim had lost his coat on the first round. He’d been holding a pair of queens, but Hannah had bluffed him out of the coat with a pair of fives. Sitting in his shirt-sleeves, he watched the expert way Hannah shuffled the cards.
“I admire your style, Dr. Donovan. Beginner’s luck becomes you.”
She gave him a madonna smile and kept on shuffling.
“If that smile is meant to take my mind off the game, it didn’t work. I intend to see you naked.”
“What will it be this time, Jim,” she asked smoothly as she laid the cards on the table for him to cut, “your shirt or your pants?”
“My shirt against your shoes.”
“Only my shoes?”
“I like to undress a woman bit by bit—saving the best till last.”
Luck was with Hannah. Although she’d bluffed to win the first hand, she was holding a sure thing the second time around—three of a kind. She tried to keep a poker face as Jim unbuttoned his shirt. He made a great show of it, pinning her to the chair with a sizzling gaze, taking his own sweet time with each button, acting as if he were stripping for an audience of thousands instead of losing his shirt at poker. The whole performance made her feel hot and irritated. She fanned herself with the cards.
Jim chuckled. “You could turn your head, you know.”
“What?”
“If the sight of my chest bothers you that much, you could look the other way.”
She flung the cards onto the table. “The sight of your chest doesn’t bother me at all. I’ve seen marvelous chests before. I have brothers, you know.”
He decided to be charitable and not point out her obvious slip of the tongue. As he handed her his shirt, he decided that losing this game was even better than winning. It pleased him to see the cool Dr. Hannah Donovan in such a flustered state.
“What do you want of mine this time, Doctor? My pants?”
She struggled to regain her composure. “What I want is for you to show a little more anxiety over losing.”
“Shall I beat my chest? Or better yet”—he leaned across the table and said softly—”you pound my chest.”
“Your deal,” she said curtly.
She took his pants with a pair of twos. She’d played with such brazen abandon that he’d thought she had been holding at least a straight. Or perhaps he hadn’t been thinking at all, he decided, as he rose to take off his pants. Maybe he’d fallen under the spell of her bewitching grin.
His gaze never left hers as he reached for his belt buckle.
“Do you want to call it quits while
you’re ahead, Dr. Donovan?”
There was a slight hesitation before she spoke. “Absolutely not.”
“You’re sure?”
She tossed her hair in a gesture of defiant bravado. “What’s the matter, West Coast Warrior? Afraid of what I’ll do to you?”
“No, wildcat. I’m afraid of what I’ll do to you.” His zipper was loud in the pulsing silence of the room.
Hannah squeezed her hands together in her lap. She’d be hogtied before she’d give Jim the satisfaction of knowing they were shaking.
His pants hit the floor with a magnified boom. She sat ramrod straight as he bent over, picked them up, and handed them to her.
“Your winnings.”
She took a deep, steadying breath before she accepted the pants. Why he ever covered up that body with clothes was a mystery to her. She lost the next two hands, primarily, she decided, because she couldn’t keep her eyes off him.
Minus shoes and earrings, she looked down at her hand. “I bet everything,” she said as cool as iced lemonade.
“Everything, Hannah?” He quirked one eyebrow in question. He was holding a full house. “You can’t escape under the cover of bubbles this time.”
Her gaze swept over his bare chest, and she smiled. “Everything.”
“What if you lose, Hannah? I’ll take all of it, you know, every scrap of clothes you’re wearing.”
“So will I.”
“In that case, I call.”
There was a breathless moment while they merely looked into each other’s eyes. He thought she was the boldest, most flamboyant, most exciting woman he’d ever met. A pity he wanted an old-fashioned girl.
She thought he was the brashest, sexiest, most arrogant man she’d ever known. A pity she didn’t have time for a man.
Slowly he laid his cards on the table. Three queens and two tens. A full house.
Her smile was triumphant as she played her cards. Ace, king, queen, jack, and ten of hearts. A royal flush.
He conceded the game. Standing up, he removed his socks, Wadding them together, he tossed them into her lap.
“I’ve never been so thoroughly trounced at poker.” He smiled down at her. “Tell me, Hannah, was it luck or did you cheat?”
“Do you think I’d tell and spoil a perfectly scandalous reputation?” Now that the game had ended, she felt vastly relieved. She’d won; she’d had her revenge, and best of all, the strip show was over. She tucked the socks into his jacket pocket and smiled at him. “By the way, Jim, you have nice legs.”
