by Janet Dailey
Chapter 6
There was a light rap on the door. Jordanna rose from the sofa to answer it, skirting the bearskin rug in front of the fireplace. Before taming the knob to unlock the door, she asked, "Who is it?"
"It's me, " her father answered in a low voice.
She let him in, smiling a welcome. "You made it. "
"It's quiet in here, " Fletcher remarked as the door was closed and locked to shut out the party and its noise.
"Wonderfully so. " Jordanna walked to the center of the room, pausing in front of the open jaws of the grizzly bear rug. "Would you like a drink?"
"No. " He sat down in his favorite armchair and leaned his head against the back rest. A muffled burst of laughter filtered through the thickly insulated walls into the room. A weary, disgruntled look passed over his face.
"You look tired, Dad, " she observed with wary concern and smoothed out the folds of her long skirt as she sat down on the sofa.
"No, just old. " Fletcher smiled crookedly at his reply.
Jordanna didn't smile. "You wouldn't be saying that —you wouldn't be thinking that if you hadn't argued with Livvie before the party. "
"How did you know about that?"
"Just a guess. " It was wiser not to admit she had been accidentally eavesdropping Her mother caused him enough grief without him knowing that she had witnessed it.
"After all this time, the odds were in your favor that your guess would be right. " It was the closest her father had ever come to openly admitting his marital problems. The rift between himself and his wife was something he had never discussed with her or her brother. It was a forbidden topic and he didn't break the taboo by pursuing it. "Why don't you put on some soft music? Maybe we can drown out the party, " he suggested.
Jordanna walked to the bookshelf, where a stereo tape deck was enclosed in the wood. Selecting an instrumental tape, she slid it into the slot and turned the volume low. She returned to the sofa and relaxed against the cushions. Her father closed his eyes to listen to the dulcet strains.
She thought he'd fallen asleep, but when the tape started repeating itself, he opened his eyes and pushed himself out of the chair. As he straightened his jacket, he felt something inside his pocket. Frowning, he took out a slim jewelry case. He glanced at Jordanna with a smile of chagrin.
"I meant to give you this before the party and forgot, " he said.
"What is it?" Rising from her reclining position on the sofa, she snagged a hook of her gown on a pillow. It came unfastened. "Damn, " Jordanna swore softly in irritation. "Will you fasten this for me, Dad?" She walked to the front of the desk where he was standing.
The walls were beginning to close in on him. The staleness of the air was almost suffocating. Brig glanced around at the chattering people who seemed indifferent to the noise they were making. A cool, fresh draft unexpectedly blew over him and he looked for the source. The sheer panels of the dining room drapes were moving gently. Behind them, he saw a set of latticed glass doors evidently leading onto a roof garden.
Slipping through them, Brig escaped outside. The sounds of the party followed him, muffled now, and mingled with the traffic sounds from the streets far below. The city lights were too brilliant for the stars to be seen. But at least he had the feeling of space, room to move and breathe.
Fancy wrought-iron deck furniture and potted plants adorned the rooftop. Brig ignored the invitations of the cushioned seats and walked to the parapet. A couple followed his route of escape, the girl giggling. Not wanting company, Brig faded into the shadows and moved quietly around the corner of the rooftop to a more secluded site.
Light streamed through another set of glass doors, laying a square of light on the astro-turfed roof. Only absently curious, Brig glanced inside. It was a den —Fletcher's trophy room judging by the mounted game heads on the wall. At that moment, he saw the gray-haired man walk to the desk and turn. His behavior suggested someone was in the room with him. Before Brig could hazard a guess, the auburn-haired woman in the black gown came into view. She turned her back to Fletcher so he could fasten her gown.
Brig's mouth quirked cynically. If he had any question why they'd snuck away from the party separately, he had his answer now. Brig studied the creamy smoothness of her shoulder blades and the rippling line of her spine. Fletcher took something from a jewel case and fastened it around her neck. She appeared delighted by the gift of a necklace and thanked Fletcher with a quick kiss. Brig thought she was such a consummate actress that she belonged on stage.
"It's beautiful, Dad. " Jordanna held the jade pendant, carved in the shape of a cross, in her hand, the stone cool against her palm. "But what's the occasion? My birthday isn't for another six months yet"
"Does it have to be your birthday before I can buy my own daughter a present?" he asked. "I saw it and thought of you, so I bought it. "
"I like it. Thank you. " He'd never done anything like this before that Jordanna could remember. She was surprised, a little puzzled, and very pleased.
"I'm going back to the party. Are you coming?" Fletcher started toward the door.
She didn't feel like going back yet "No, I'm going to stay for a while. "
"I'll lock the door so you won't be disturbed. Be sure it's locked when you leave, " he added.
"I will, " Jordanna promised.
After he had walked out and closed the door, she turned away from it Fingering the pale green pendant, she smiled faintly at the present that was prompted only by affection. She was facing the latticed doors leading to the rooftop garden. A light flared, the size of a match flame. Jordanna stiffened at the sight of a tall figure standing outside. It moved forward and the door handle turned. Jordanna recognized the man entering the den as the stranger she had seen talking to her mother.
"How long have you been there?" Her tone was faintly accusing. She didn't like the idea that he had been spying. It was an invasion of privacy to be watched, even if she had been unaware of it at the time.
A thick, dark brow lifted in mockery of her tone. "Not long. " His voice was pitched low, with a faint drawl to it. "If it was privacy you were seeking, " he reached for the drapery cord and pulled it, swinging the heavy drapes closed, "you should have closed the curtains. "
"If I had suspected anyone was out there, I would have. " It was a quick retort, but there was no sharpness to it
"Didn't anyone tell you? There's a party going on. People are everywhere. " His arm moved in a half-arc. In his hand, he held a drink that had gone to water, a cigarette burned between his fingers. "Although I must admit you have found yourself a quiet niche away from the noise and the crowd. "
"It's peaceful here, " Jordanna agreed and wondered why she didn't order him to leave. The truth was, she found him fascinating.
Studying him across the width of a room amidst a party had not prepared her for the impact of a face-to-face meeting. The look in his brown eyes was as dry and searing as any desert wind. The handsome lines of his face had been weathered into toughness. His dark mustache shadowed a mouth that was hard. There was a dangerous virility about him that was exciting as well as alarming. But most of all, it was the sensation of power that captivated her, an indefatigable strength that went to the very marrow of his bones.
Adjectives were difficult to find. Jordanna threw out worldly. She sensed he knew everything the way an animal does, born with the cunning and instinct to survive. Experienced didn't fit him either, although she was positive he had escaped many a trap and had increased his knowledge from it. In that suit and tie, he looked comfortable and at ease, yet it was an artful camouflage that reflected an ability to adapt to his surroundings. Sheep's clothing on a sagacious wolf, the last of his kind.
Jordanna was released from his gaze as he swept the room with a glance. "This is quite a display of trophies. " He wandered over to the mounted head of a javelina, ivory tusks gleaming from open jaws. Jordanna could have claimed it as her kill, but she doubted that he would be impressed.
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bsp; "Yes, it is. " She heard the thread of breathlessness in her voice, but she doubted that he had. It was startling to discover how profoundly disturbed she was by his presence.
He turned from the wall and started to loosen his tie, then glanced at her. "Do you mind?"
Jordanna suspected that it didn't matter one way or the other if she did. "No. Go ahead. " She lifted an indifferent hand and watched him tug the knot loose and stuff the tie in a suit pocket He unfastened the top two buttons of his shirt. A trembling weakness shook her knees. Determined to conquer this reaction, she walked to the decanter of Scotch on the desk and splashed some of it into a crystal tumbler.
"There isn't any ice, " Jordanna warned him.
"May I?" He held out his glass.
"That's alright. There's some in my glass. " Cubes clinked against the sides as if to prove it.
Jordanna took the glass from him, avoiding contact with his fingers without knowing why. "Strong or weak?" The decanter was posed above his glass in her hand.
"Strong. "
She poured a liberal amount of Scotch onto the melting cubes of ice and set the decanter down, re-stopping it. Picking up a glass in each hand, she turned ana found him standing directly in front of her. A shiver of anticipation danced over her skin at the lazy, sensual look in his gaze. Jordanna stood eye-level with his mouth, a rather disconcerting fact to discover at such close quarters. His suit jacket had been discarded. There was only the white of his shirt.
"Your drink, " she prompted, extending the hand that held his glass.
He reached, but the object wasn't the glass. His fingers closed around the jade cross, nestled in the valley between her breasts. Instead of lifting it for a closer examination, he left it there where the cup of his hand could rest on the swelling curves of her breasts. His action was insolent, but indignation was difficult to summon when an entirely different kind of flame was heating her skin.
"Carved jade. It's very beautiful... and expensive. " He lifted his gaze to her face and Jordanna returned his steady look.
"Yes, it is. " She succeeded in keeping her voice calm and firm. "Would you mind removing your hand and taking this glass?"
His gaze roamed slowly over her face, as if he were making up his mind. "I think I do mind. " He sounded bemused.
It was a challenge, a glove thrown down. Jordanna realized that she was being dared to pick it up.
"If you don't remove your hand, I will be forced to pour this drink on your head, " she threatened calmly and seriously.
"Don't do it. " The statement sounded more like an ominous threat than hers had. His fingers slid up the gold chain, closing it together and twisting it into a tight circle just below her chin.
The movement had been purely instinctive. The gold chain was thin and strong. Brig realized that one more twist and it would serve as an adequate garrote. As it was, it was achieving his objective of holding her immobile without struggling. He noticed the fine gold links stretched across her neck and was careful not to exert any more pressure that might mar her skin.
Damn, she had beautiful skin. Could the rest of her body be as ivory smooth as what he saw? Brig didn't blame Fletcher for making her his private stock, his mistress and lover. He hadn't expected her flawless beauty to stand up under close scrutiny.
He glanced into her eyes. She was wary, unsure of him, but she wasn't frightened. She had courage... and her own brand of strength. Brig thought of the other women he'd bedded in the last twenty years and knew this one was more woman than he'd ever known. But he knew what she was and was irritated by the knowledge.
His gaze slid to her lips and he knew he had to taste them. His mouth covered them. They were cool to his touch, not warmed by the kisses that had come before his. But they were soft, so very soft. Brig let go of the gold chain and cupped his hand against her throat to hold her head motionless.
The jade cross slid back to its nesting ground in the shadowy cleavage as the chain was released. Jordanna felt its coolness once more against her warm flesh. She didn't resist the grip that firmly encircled her throat. She was passive under his kiss, but the gentle persuasions of his mouth were gradually dissolving that passivity. The soft bristles of his mustache teased her skin while his warm, male lips courted hers, exploring every curve and hollow with ease and sure-ness. The pulsepoint in her neck was pounding against his finger, betraying the rapid beat of her heart. Of their own free will, her lips began to cling to his.
Slowly he lifted his head. Her eyes were wide and faintly puzzled. In their look was a veiled question Jordanna was too proud to ask. His face held no expression. Without saying a word, he took the glasses from her hands and set them on the desk.
When he faced her again, he made no attempt to take her into his arms, nor did he put any distance between them. That was her option. She was being given the opportunity to leave before she was seduced by him. But Jordanna was all the more firmly intrigued by this stranger, who was like no man she'd ever met
His hand reached out to stroke the mahogany sheen of her hair where it was pulled back from her face by a comb. "You have beautiful hair. " It was a simple observation, not a compliment meant to flatter.
A response wasn't necessary and Jordanna made none. She continued to regard him with a steady look, although her heart was racing madly. His hands settled on either side of her neck to pull her closer, then moved to slide the straps of her gown from her shoulders and lightly caress her arms. Her lashes fluttered down. His touch reminded her of the pleasing roughness of a cat's tongue.
His breath was warm against her lips an instant before his mouth covered them in a long, drugging kiss. Slipping free of the gown's shoulder straps, her hands explored the flexible steel bands rippling along his upper arms. She was aware of her breasts swelling to fill the large hands that cupped them in their palms. She tasted the Scotch on his tongue and the nicotine on his lips, and savored the male flavor of him.
A thumb drew lazy circles around the rosy peak of her breast, hardening it into an erotic button. The weakness that had attacked her legs earlier returned with triple force. Jordanna swayed against him and he obligingly molded her to the supporting frame of his body. The heat emanating from his hard flesh spread quickly through hers, its warmth ennervating.
Leaving a trail of golden fire, his mouth followed the slanting curve of her jaw to the hollow below her ear, down the smooth column of her neck all the way to the base of her throat. Her head was tipped back to allow him greater access to whatever area pleased him while Jordanna trembled with quaking desire.
This hot, languorous passion was something she had never experienced before. It produced an ever-changing array of sensations, like the slowly turning magic of a kaleidoscope. Each time her skin tingled under his caress she wanted to stop the moment and hold it forever, but the heady male smell of him would crowd the sensation out with its intoxicating force, or she would taste the lazy fire of his kiss, forgetting all else until another sensation overwhelmed her.
Shaping her hips to the thrust of his, she tried to ease the throbbing ache that was slowly consuming her. His hands were at the back of her waist. Jordanna felt the slackening of the material around her middle as the zipper was pulled silently down. Then the strength that she had previously only suspected he possessed was revealed to her as he lifted her out of the gown and its slip, exerting no more effort than he would picking up a child. Just as easily, he shifted her into the cradle of his arms. Jordanna heard her shoes hit the floor, but she wasn't conscious of kicking them off. Locking her arms around the tanned column of his neck, she met the frankly desirous light in his eyes. She neither shied from it, nor brazenly returned it It was all much simpler than that There was no need for role-playing, not the virgin nor the temptress.
Carrying her to the fireplace, he stood her on the bearskin rug. As his arms withdrew their support from her, Jordanna sank to her knees before stretching to lie on her side, partially elevated by an arm The shaggy fur of the bear hide brus
hed her naked skin, heightening already sensitive nerve ends. The animal skin made a primitive mattress, but one that met their needs.
She watched as he undressed. He shed his clothes with unhurried ease, making the moment feel natural and untainted. When he came to join her, Jordanna felt the quickening rush of blood surge through her veins. As the heat of his body seared her length, her hands came in contact with the solid flesh of his muscled shoulders and back. While his hard kiss plundered the yielding softness of her mouth, his skillful hands manipulated response from every area he touched.
A tightening low in her stomach twisted her into a coiled knot of need. Whimpering sounds were coming from her throat, but he ignored her silent pleas to release the unbearable tension within. No one had ever made love to her like this before—taking it slow as if they had all the time in the world.
In a gradual dawning of discovery, Jordanna realized he expected more from her than just to be a receptacle for his satisfaction. He wanted her to give in return —to give of herself. No man had ever asked this of her before. This casual demand for a commitment was frightening but not nearly as terrifying as the black emptiness that threatened to swallow her if she refused.
Her responses were tentative at first, gaining confidence from his expertly sensual encouragement. She was drawn into a whirlpool of raging desire. When his weight settled on her, she thought she would drown in the eddying rapture. Instead she was lifted higher and higher until the world seemed to explode in a dazzling display of lights that illuminated every corner of her being
When the fiery lovestorm passed, tiny beads of perspiration dampened her skin. Jordanna waited for the shadows to crowd in, but they couldn't darken the moment. The edges of her mouth deepened slightly to reflect an inner smile. A roughened hand smoothed her cheek and pushed away the tendrils of hair clinging to her damp skin. Her eyes were soft and wondrous as she opened them to gaze at the man silently studying her. The strong, lean features wore a bemused look. Bending his head, he let his mouth linger on her lips for a warm instant.
