The Ready-Made Family (Silhouette Special Edition)

by Laurie Paige

  The air left her lungs and refused to return.

  “When we make love, I want the maximum comfort for you.” He paused, tantalizing her with fantasies of them together. “I also want the maximum pleasure. For both of us. It’ll be earthshaking.”

  “What if it isn’t?”

  He wrapped her closer, so close she could hear his heart beat when she laid her head against him. Against the junction of her legs, she felt the growing hardness to his body. She wanted to answer that call to wild delight, to take him in her until she felt him every- where—inside, outside, a part of her….

  “Then we’ll practice until it is.” He moved swiftly, his lips closing over hers in heady rapture.

  She let herself cling to him. His hands rubbed over her, molding her to his hard angles. She swayed against him, side to side, lightly stroking, delirious with plea- sure.

  He groaned and cupped her buttocks, holding her still against the solid ridge behind his zipper. His tongue sought hers in passionate play for a long minute before he broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers.

  “Easy, darling,” he cautioned, “or else you’ll drive me right over the edge of my good intentions.”

  She stirred her wits, teasing him as she’d done all month to catch and keep his interest. “Good intentions? You have those?”

  He frowned in mock displeasure at her, then laughed. “Lots of ‘em. Lots and lots.” He chuckled at her dis- believing expression.

  With the quickness of a lightning bolt, he moved his hands over her, running his palms down her sides and over her hips, outlining her shape as if memorizing it. When they moved upward again and hovered just below her breasts, heat from his hands seared her through the heavy black satin of her dinner dress and jacket.

  Fires ignited in her. She arched instinctively against him, wanting more…everything…that instant.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he muttered on a hoarsely drawn breath. “We have a long drive before we get home.”

  “Home,” she repeated. It seemed so right. If only it could be true. If only he would fall in love with her. If only he would ask her to marry him. If only…

  She stifled the betraying thoughts. There was no time for dreams that would never be. “Yes, let’s go.”

  She wanted to get the weekend over. She wanted the future, hers and Rick’s, settled. Tension pulled like a tightening chain across her forehead as they rode down the elevator from his office to the parking level below the street.

  “Music?” he asked. They had taken the highway heading south toward Carson City out of Reno. Now they traveled west toward Lake Tahoe. The road be- came steep and winding.

  “I like the quiet.”

  “Me, too.” He laid a hand briefly on her thigh, then withdrew it to negotiate Spooner Summit. The sign in- dicated they were 7140 feet high. That was a long way to fall.

  She glanced at Harrison’s strong profile, then away. It was hard to look at the person who was to be her victim, to make herself be hard and callous toward him.

  Like a black widow spider, she lay in wait for him to fall into her web of deceit. As the time drew nearer to execute her deception, she looked at him less and less.

  One month, she reminded herself. One month to es- tablish a home and a believable facade of marital hap- piness in order to convince the judge to put Rick into her custody. One month.

  Fear sent a wave of weakness through her. She couldn’t even think about failure. This was something she had to do. Rick, for all his insistence that he was a man, was only a boy.

  “Relax,” a warm, masculine voice advised, a drift of laughter coating the words. Harrison pulled her hands apart and placed her left one palm down on his thigh. He held it there with his hand over hers. When he had to move it to execute a turn, she left her hand in place.

  Through the fine wool of his slacks, she revelled in the warmth and strength of his leg as he pressed the accelerator. She thought of that strength held between her own thighs, of that warmth deep inside her, sharing the passion she’d deliberately set out to induce in him.

  A shaky sigh escaped her.

  He touched her hand again, and again withdrew it to steer the sleek luxury car around the mountainous curves. Down they dipped into the Tahoe basin, then sped along the eastern shore of the lake and climbed streets slick with frost until he at last turned into the driveway of his cabin.

  “Some cabin,” she remarked, gazing at a tall, three- car garage structure with redwood siding and decking all around.

  He grinned like a boy showing off a treasure.

  “It’s lovely,” she said after he parked and they started up the enclosed stairs from the garage to the main floor of the house. It was built into the side of the mountain.

  “I’ll give you the grand tour in the morning,” he said. He glanced at his watch.

  So did she. It was morning. One o’clock on a cold morning in April. April the third. At least it wasn’t April Fool’s Day. She didn’t think she could have pulled off her hoax on the famous trickster day. It would have been too macabre.

  “The snow will be crusty in the morning. That’ll make the skiing tougher. Perhaps we’ll wait for the af- ternoon when it softens up a bit.”

  Spring slush. That’s what she and her friends had called the snowpack as the sun grew hotter and the snow became heavy with water. It’ clumped on top of the skis, making turns difficult and putting the knees at greater risk.

  “It’s been a while since I’ve skied,” she remarked while he unlocked the door and stepped inside to punch a code into the burglar alarm.

  “It’ll come back. We’ll take it easy, let you get your ski legs under you before we tackle the advanced slopes.” He held the door wide. “Enter,” he invited with a sweep of his hand.

  She stepped across the threshold, and he closed the door, locking out the cold. The house was already warm.

  “Do you leave the heat on all the time?” she asked, curious about how often he came up here.

  “No. I call ahead and let my neighbor know when I’m coming in. She and her son take care of things when I’m not here.”

  Isa murmured a hum of understanding. It sounded as if he had nice neighbors. During the past month she’d noticed he seemed to be well-liked by the people she’d met. But then, he wouldn’t introduce her to his enemies, and a business tycoon had to have a few of those.

  “The house is on three levels,” he explained. “The living room, kitchen and den are here. The bedrooms are one floor up, the rec room and basement one floor down. Firewood is stored down there, too. There’s a dumbwaiter to bring it up.”

  “How convenient.” She couldn’t quite hide the sar- castic edge as she thought of the apartments she’d lived in most of her life. Any one of them would have fit on a single floor here.

  He cast her a sharp, assessing glance.

  She kept her face that perfect blank she’d learned so well while listening to her father’s schemes. He’d grown angry if she expressed concern or pointed out flaws in his plans. She’d learned to keep her opinions to herself.

  “I’ll show you to your room, then bring the luggage up.”

  “Thank you. I am rather tired.” There, maybe he would accept that old excuse for her short temper. Truthfully, she was beginning to feel somewhat rav- aged. Fighting a constant war with one’s own con- science was exhausting.

  He led the way up another flight of steps to the top level. Her bedroom was on one side of a wide hall sur- rounding the stairwell. A sky bridge connected the hall to a double set of doors on the other side of the house. The master suite, she assumed, and felt her scalp prickle.

  “You have your own bathroom,” Harrison told her. “There are two bedrooms and a connecting bath across the hall.”

  “Umm.” She sounded breathy and reedy.

  “Come see the view,” he invited, not bothering to turn on the bedroom lights.

  His voice had dropped into a lower, sexier register, sending a clenchi
ng sensation along her nerves. She let him usher her to the wide set of windows on the op- posite wall, his hand lightly touching her back.

  The moon cast a silvered path over the lake while lights glittered like magic pearls strung around the shore. Amid the dark stands of evergreen trees, snow reflected the moonlight like drifts of fairy dust in a dreamscape.

  The scene was so beautiful it brought tears to her eyes. With them came the despairing sadness she’d felt when her mother died and all the joy had disappeared from her life.

  “It always gets to me, too,” he murmured, resting his head against hers, his arm encircling her waist.

  She sensed the wonder he felt and knew it was the same as hers. Standing there looking at the play of moonlight on the mountains and lake, she made a poi- gnant discovery—to share a beautiful thing made it even more wonderful.

  His hands exerted but little pressure on her, only enough to nudge her into turning toward him. She piv- oted slowly, as if in a dream. The tears pressed harder.

  He cupped her face, then slipped his hands into her hair and lifted her mouth to his. She clutched his suit jacket, her hands creasing the fabric as she struggled against sensations she had no right to feel. Emotions only got in the way.

  Blackmailers must be ruthless.

  His lips touched hers. The kiss reached inside and plucked her heartstrings until she quivered with longing.

  Blackmailers must be coldhearted.

  Still holding the kiss, he opened his jacket, inviting her inside. She hesitated, then slipped her arms around him, knowing there was only the smooth cotton of his shirt between her hands and his skin. Thoughts spiraled off like the meteor trails of fireworks.

  Blackmailers must be clear-thinking.

  Feeling the threat of incipient softheadedness, she gave a little keening moan and tore her mouth from the sweet wonder of his. She pressed her face against his shirt.

  He reached between them, pulled his tie free, then unbuttoned his shirt. He did the same to the black satin jacket that matched her dress. “Don’t stop now,” he whispered.

  “I…we shouldn’t…. It’s…too soon.”

  “No,” he denied. “It’s perfect, just us and the moon and the stars, the beauty of the mountains.”

  She tried to think. She had to think. There were things she had to do, important things. But for now…for this one night…couldn’t she forget her plans and have just one night?

  But of course she couldn’t. For one thing, her con- science wouldn’t let her accept the sweet mindlessness of total pleasure with the man she intended to black- mail. For another, it was too dangerous. If everything worked as she’d planned, by the end of this weekend trip, she’d be his wife.

  Chapter Two

  “Come with me,” Harrison whispered urgently. The house was two years old. No woman had been in his quarters. He wanted this one to be the first. Maybe the only one…

  He was startled at the thought. What was he thinking of? Or was he thinking at all? Good question.

  Maybe he’d better let things calm down before he found himself saying things he might regret in the morning. He’d always prided himself on keeping a cool head. He wasn’t going to lose it now. All he had to do was douse the fire in his blood with some rational thought.

  “Perhaps we’d better think on this.” Her voice was a wisp of sound in the dark, enchanted night.

  “I don’t want to think,” he muttered, nuzzling along her temple, excited by the scent of her. “I just want to hold you and kiss you and make love to you.”

  So much for rational thought, he told himself, mock- ing his own runaway libido. Next thing he knew, he’d be down on one knee saying a lot of sappy things the way the heroes did in the spate of mushy romantic com- edies that had hit the movies recently.

  He lifted his head and stared down at the wealth of. shiny black hair that hid her face from view as she pressed her forehead to his bare chest.

  Heaven help him. He couldn’t believe he’d ripped his shirt open so he could feel her touch directly on his skin. That was a primitive reaction to lust. He prided himself on being a modern man. Enough of this. He had to regain control.

  Then he felt her lips touch his bare skin.

  An electric bolt sizzled through him. He wanted to pick her up in his arms and run to his room. He might let her out in a year.

  Forcing himself to practicalities, he set her away from him and cleared the huskiness from his throat. “I’d bet- ter see to our luggage.”

  She nodded and turned away before he could catch more than a glimpse of her face in the moonlight pour- ing in the window. She laid her purse on the nearby table, then sat in the chair next to it, her arms wrapped across her waist as if she’d been taken with a sudden chill.

  There was something mournful in her still figure. He wanted to comfort her as well as kiss her. An odd sen- sation.

  He hurried out while he still could.

  Isa woke to a radiant morning. The snow reflected the sun from every mountain peak, every pine and fir tree as far as the eye could see. She was blinded by its brilliance.

  A blue jay complained as a crow pushed him off the ledge of a bird feeder next door. He flew up to the pine branch outside her window and cawed loudly.

  She yawned and stretched, but didn’t jump out of the warm bed the way she usually did. Instead, she lay be- neath the comforter and thought of the previous eve- ning.

  Harrison had brushed her cheek tenderly after bring- ing up her suitcase and placing it on an old-fashioned cedar chest. He hadn’t kissed her again, although she’d expected it.

  She’d expected more than kisses. She’d thought she’d have to refuse him, even though part of her had wanted the lovemaking.

  Odd. She’d thought he’d wanted it, too.

  But he’d resisted the temptation and left her with a smile that had been as troubling as it had been myste- rious. She’d somehow lost control of the situation.

  A knock on the door caused every nerve in her body to jump. “Yes?” she managed to call in a fairly steady voice.

  “Ready to try the slopes? The ski report is good. A dusting of fresh snow fell during the wee hours.”

  “I’ll be down in twenty minutes,” she promised, and flung the covers back. She made it in sixteen minutes flat.

  Harrison was in the kitchen sipping a cup of coffee when she arrived. “Cereal is in the cabinet over the coffeemaker,” he advised. “There’s milk in the refrig- erator.”

  “Thanks.” She helped herself.

  Looking at the clock, she realized she’d slept until nine. “Have you been up long?”

  “Hours. I didn’t sleep well last night. Did you?”

  She glanced his way and saw the irony in his smile. And the hunger in his eyes. Heat radiated inside her. “Actually, I did. The last thing I remember was looking at the moonlight on the mountains and thinking how beautiful it all was.”

  In the moment before she fell asleep it had seemed that all things were possible—marriage, security, hap- piness.

  After eating, they tugged on ski clothes and headed for the chairlift. Harrison wore jeans with his boots, but she preferred the warmth of ski bibs, which were made like bib overalls. She wore a ski parka. Harrison wore a windbreaker over a cotton turtleneck and a wool sweater.

  They were on their way to the top of the mountain by ten. Around them, couples called to each other, mak- ing arrangements to meet later for lunch.

  “College kids from Davis or Sacramento up for the weekend,” Harrison decided, watching them with an indulgent expression.

  “They look so young,” she murmured, envious of their joy and seemingly uncomplicated lives.

  She wondered how her escort would be with children. An easy touch? No, firm but fair would most likely be his style. She looked away when his gaze shifted toward her.

  It was strange, but she felt so vulnerable today, as if all her innermost thoughts were strung out like clothes on a line for anyone to see.

/>   “And you’re so old? I’ve been wondering if I should have asked for a note from your mommy before bring- ing you up here for the weekend.” There was a question in his voice.

  “I’m twenty-seven.” She was surprised that he might have thought she was as young as the couples around them.

  “That makes me eight years older.”

  “I knew you were thirty-five.” She pressed her lips together but the words were already spoken.

  “Ah, you asked questions about me,” he murmured, leaning close to her. “I like that.”

  The chair swung back and forth. They were about thirty feet above the ground. “Don’t move,” she said.

  He laughed. “Now I know your weakness—you’re scared of heights.”

  “Only when my feet aren’t on the ground.”

  “My feet aren’t on the ground at all when I’m around you,” he told her in a deep, sexy drawl.

  Her heart knocked around a bit. She summoned the teasing repartee that had caught his interest earlier. “You’ve always looked pretty solidly planted to me.”

  “Then we’ll have to change your perception.” He leaned over and kissed her on the mouth just before they had to lift their ski tips at the end of the ride.

  They spent two hours on the slopes, stopped at the lodge for lunch, then went back up. Thoughtfully, he stayed on easy, intermediate runs with her. The snow turned slushy as the day wore on. The third time she caught her ski tip and went down for the count, he de- cided to call it a day.

  “You’re tired. There’s no reason to overdo it. There will be other days to play,” he added, giving her a flirtatious smile while he waited for her to get up. He pushed one of her ski poles within reach as she got herself back together.

  She brushed snow off her face, laughing and shiv- ering when a clump went down her neck. Sitting on the cold ground, she looked up at Harrison Stone.

  Silhouetted against the afternoon sun, he looked pow- erful, a man filled to the brim with the energy of life. A force to be reckoned with…and she wanted to do the reckoning.

  Her smile died as she thought of the things she had to do. At this moment, he was looking at her with amused tenderness. Unless he confessed undying love and demanded marriage today, tomorrow he’d look at her with hatred in his hazel eyes.