by Amy Summers
She looked up from the soup she was stirring, surprised. "No? Why not?"
He stopped by and looked down at the soup. "Because marriage is just a trap. Didn't you find that out for yourself? It's just a modern form of legalized slavery." He looked into her eyes. "It should be abolished. Done away with."
She gazed at him levelly. "I see. You're a confirmed bachelor. Is that right?"
"Of course. Marriage is for morons."
"And you're too smart, too strong, to opt for a life like that."
"Now you're getting it."
She licked her lips. "Does that also mean you don't think you need a woman in your life?" she challenged.
But before he could follow up on that one, another voice was heard from.
"You know what, Mama?" Jill piped up from the counter where she was shelling peas. "David has lots of girlfriends."
Madison and David turned to look at her.
"What?" Madison asked,
Jill nodded seriously, her sharp-eyed gaze going from one of them to the other. "Rosa told me about them when she was putting us to bed."
David was beginning to feel violated. He frowned with apprehension. "What did she tell you?"
Jill threw him a fleeting smile, but she was really talking to her mother. "She told me about all the girls that come around to flirt with David."
David moved impatiently. "Rosa's got to learn discretion," he muttered.
But Madison was laughing again, teasing David with a wide-eyed glance. "Go on, Jill. What did Rosa tell you about these girls?"
David turned, alarmed. "Hey, maybe she'd better not..."
"Oh?" Madison's eyebrows were both sky high this time. "Been a little scandalous yourself, have you?"
He looked at her helplessly, shaking his head.
She grinned, but took pity on him. "Don't worry. I'm sure Rosa didn't tell X-rated things to the children.''
"I'm glad you're sure," he murmured, sinking back against the counter in resignation.
Madison patted his hand, then left her fingers there to curl around his. "Go on, Jill."
Jill went on. "Rosa said that all the girls in town come in their best dresses and eat here so David can look them over."
Madison gave him a skeptical look. "All the girls in town?" she asked.
"Rosa exaggerates," he muttered gloomily, feeling gallows-bound.
"Then she says David picks the prettiest one and takes her out."
"Sexist pig," Madison murmured for only him to hear.
"Rosa's wrong," he claimed. His gloom evaporated as he gave her a quick grin. "I always give them IQ tests. Honest. The smartest girl wins, no matter what she looks like."
Madison made a face at him, and then stopped Jill before she went on.
"Jill." Madison put up her hand, laughing. "Let's not torture David anymore. Save the rest for later. It's almost time to open for the evening meal. We want him functional for that, at least."
"Okay." Jill hopped down off her chair and began to gather her things. "Come on, Chris. Let's go upstairs. I'll tell you a story."
Chris looked up from playing with his pretend cars, finally interested.
“'Bout the flying tarantulas?" he asked.
"Okay. Let's go."
They trudged off. David didn't even bother to ask about the spider stories. He'd heard enough from Chris to know the explanation wouldn't make any sense, anyway.
"1 can see I'm going to have to have some conversations with Rosa myself," Madison was teasing, leaning back and looking at him through narrowed eyes. "She seems to know everything there is to know about you."
He gave her a baleful look. "The trouble with Rosa is, some of the things she knows never really happened. So take anything she says with a grain of salt."
Madison laughed. Tales of David's old girlfriends didn't really bother her. Everybody had a past. "She's sort of like an aunt to you, isn't she? Have you known her for a long time?"
"Forever. I used to spend my summers down here when I was a kid. She was always here. And I called her 'Tia’”
"All your summers?" She leaned forward, her chin in her hand. "Really?"
He nodded, his eyes growing more distant. It was evident this was not his favorite topic of conversation, but she wanted to know more about him, so she pushed.
"Were your parents traveling or something?" she asked.
He grunted. She would think something like that—she with the family who took off for Paris just to go shopping. "No. My parents were divorced."
Her face changed. "Oh, David, I'm sorry."
He shrugged. "Don't be. I survived."
But had he really? She could see the wariness in his eyes. Children of divorce were always damaged to some extent. Usually they got over it pretty well by adulthood. But there were always some residual pangs. She worried about her own two. What would they carry with them through the years? She shuddered and blinked those thoughts away.
"David." She put a hand on his arm, her eyes dark and compassionate. "Tell me about your parents."
He looked around for an excuse not to. But it was still ten minutes until opening, and Rosa hadn't arrived. The children had left the room. He was going to be trapped into talking about something he never talked about—with anyone. He wasn't even sure if he could do it.
Hell, it was none of her business, anyway. What did she care about his parents, or about any of his background? All she was going to learn were more reasons why the two of them didn't belong together. He wouldn't do it. He didn't want to tell her anything.
But when he looked into her eyes, something opened up inside him, and to his surprise he found the words pouring out, as though they had been pent up for much too long.
"My father was Mexican," he told her. "My mother was a school teacher from Kansas. She taught English as a Second Language classes in night school. That was where they met."
"He was her student?"
He nodded. "He was trying to improve his English because he was running his own business, a nursery, and he felt he needed more precision in his speech. And she helped him get it."
Funny, be hadn't thought about that in years. The two of them meeting that way—it was nice. Too bad the good stuff was so short lived. "Anyway, they fell in love. They got married. They had me. They got a divorce."
She was listening closely, trying to feel what he must have felt. "How old were you at the time?"
"Of the divorce? About ten." He hesitated, but she seemed to expect more, and to his surprise, he began to give it to her.
"Just like for most children of divorce, my universe fell apart. It was like I was schizophrenic, like I lived in two different worlds. My mother moved back to Kansas, to her mother's, and part of the year I lived there, with her, living behind a white picket fence, church on Sundays, big dinners with a ton of cousins, dancing lessons, picnics in the park. And then the rest of the year I was in East Los Angeles, watching my father work eighteen-hour days to support us and dodging homeboys who wanted to bash in my head because I wouldn't join their gang."
A smile twisted his wide mouth, remembering. "When I was in Kansas I felt guilty for leaving my father all alone in the barrio. And when I was back there, I felt like a traitor to my mother. The only times that were really sweet were when I came down here to visit my grandparents. I didn't have to feel guilty about anything then. I just enjoyed life."
"So that's why you love it here. That's why you come back every year."
He shrugged. "That's a big part of it."
The bell on the front door rang. David swung around, relieved. Their talk would have to be declared over. "Okay, now you get to meet Rosa," he said. "Like I said, ignore most of what she has to say about me."
"Not a chance, David." She slid down off the stool, but turned back once more before going forward to meet Rosa. "We can't talk any longer now," she said softly. "But we do have some things we need to discuss. I'll wait up for you."
Wait up for you. The words were like a w
arning, booming in his head. Something told him she was going to be temptation itself tonight. He was going to have to be careful.
Chapter 7
It wasn't so bad when Madison was talking to David or reading stories to the kids, but now that she was all alone, sitting in the semidarkness, the bogeyman seemed to be very close to her door.
The last snatches of desultory conversation wafted up from the room below. There were only a few customers left in the cafe. But she was paying no attention, anyway. Her mind was on Armand right now.
Armand. Who would have believed he would become so menacing in her life? He'd been very sweet when they'd first arrived aboard the yacht, cooing over the children, laughing with her, telling her she looked more beautiful than ever. He'd been his old charming self, the Armand she had fallen in love with all those years ago, the Armand she had married. After the first day, she had actually begun to contemplate what life might be like if they got back together again.
But that hadn't lasted long. After a few days he began to get edgier. One night, after they'd put the children to bed, he brought out a bottle of wine and a couple of candlesticks, and they'd talked of old times. And then he'd kissed her.
There had been something in that kiss that had been repugnant to her, had stirred memories she'd been trying to ignore. When she tried to pull away, his fingers had hardened on her and his temper had flared. He'd never hit her before, even during their worst times in the past, but he did then. He slapped her and shoved her down on the couch and tried to kiss her again, telling her they were going to make love.
Make love. What words to use. As though they weren't divorced. As though there were still some feeling between them. As though the last few years had just melted away.
She told him no, that she didn't feel that way about him anymore. She put her hand over her mouth now, thinking about it. She'd been so scared. She couldn't scream. Everyone else on the yacht worked for him. Besides, she didn't want to wake her children up. She didn't want them to see what he was doing to her. So she struggled in silence, clawing and kicking and squirming away from him in any way she could, and finally he gave up, swearing at her viciously, storming out of the cabin, leaving her alone.
He didn't try to touch her again, but from then on, there was a new look in his eyes. He didn't love her. He hated her. So why, why did he want her back?
He tried to make it up to her the next day with presents. But now she knew what was hiding behind the mask. She'd stayed another day, just to let the children be with him. But then he began to be short with them. He didn't like them any more than he liked her. It was one thing to let them know a parent who cherished them, it was quite another to confuse them by forcing them to be with a father who obviously didn't love them. What would that do to their emotional health?
She decided she had to leave, and that decision hardened when she took a walk around the deck of the yacht and ran across Armand's teenaged girlfriend sunbathing in her bikini. She'd marched back to the cabin and told Armand what she thought of him, then announced she was leaving. He'd laughed, but she hadn't taken in the full implications of his reaction until she asked him for her purse and papers, and he'd laughed again.
"You aren't going anywhere," he'd told her. "I've got you now, Madison. I told you I wanted you back, and that's the way it's going to be. We're going to be remarried, you and I. Don't look so shocked, darling. Think of it as fate. Your destiny."
But why, why? He didn't love her. She knew he had wanted the divorce just as much as she had. Why this sudden obsession with family togetherness? It didn't make any sense.
And it was terrifying. He seemed to have so many people working for him. He'd always liked a lot of servants around, but this was a new crew. These people had hard, cold faces. They looked as though they'd as soon slit your throat as give you breakfast. She shuddered, thinking of what would have happened if one of them had found her and the children.
Yes, she really needed to get home as quickly as possible. She'd plunged into a nightmare when she'd come down here, and she was still scratching her way back to the surface. Only two things were keeping her here—lack of money... and David.
David. She stretched back and smiled. He was a whole other story. She had to laugh when she remembered how he'd looked at her when she'd first stepped into his apartment. He'd liked what he'd seen. It had shone in his eyes in a way a woman couldn't help but appreciate. And then the protective wall had come down like a steel door. And she'd found that she wanted more than anything to find out why, to make that wall go away.
She'd known a lot of men over the last few years. She'd dated and discarded one after another. There was always something wrong—too attentive, not attentive enough, too arrogant, too timid. She'd begun to think Armand had ruined her, that she would never trust again. But with David ...
Maybe he had some flaws, too. Heck, everybody did. She just hadn't known him long enough to see his drawbacks. But she very well knew there was something honest and solid about him. When he said things to her, even if he were angling for something, she knew he was speaking from the heart. Who could resist a man like that?
She sighed and curled up in the corner of his couch, waiting for him to come up. They had a few things to talk over. Maybe he could help her puzzle out this problem with Armand. Maybe not. But she wanted to talk to him. Her eyes drifted closed, and she waited.
It was an hour after closing before David finally turned off the lights. He'd done just about everything he could think of to avoid going upstairs. There was nothing left to do. But there hadn't been a sound from upstairs in a long, long time. And Madison would have come down by now if she were still awake. So maybe it was actually safe to go up. He certainly hoped so.
He climbed the stairs quietly, and turned on the landing. And there she was, sound asleep, curled up in his shirt again, right in the middle of his couch. He stared down at her, his heart thumping. She looked small and vulnerable and unbelievably tantalizing, like a black and white photograph here in the shadows, like a piece of art. He wanted to pick her up and hold her in his arms. If only there was some way to do that without waking her up.
Leaning down over her, he put a hand on her shoulder and shook gently. "Madison," he said. "Wake up."
She stirred and stretched, and his shirt fell open, revealing one perfectly formed breast. He drew in air as though he'd just been slugged in the stomach and for a second, he didn't think he would be able to breathe. She was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen.
There was no way to stop his hand; he was beyond that kind of control at the moment. He touched her, the backs of his fingers sliding from the top of her breast to the rose-colored tip, all shiny and soft and relaxed. Her eyelids fluttered, and he cupped her breast in the palm of his hand, every part of him aching for her.
"David?"
She smiled up at him, her eyes sleepy. Instead of pulling away, she reached for him, her hands meeting behind his neck and tugging him down. At the same time, she straightened on the couch and the crisp shirt rode up, exposing her leg all the way to the hip.
She wasn't surprised. David's hot looks and her spontaneous response had seemed natural right from the beginning, in a way it had never seemed with any other man.
It wasn't just that he wanted her. She was an attractive woman, and she ran across that generic sort of desire all the time. It was more that she wanted him back. That didn't happen very often. In fact, except for Annand, when she'd first known him, it didn't happen at all. And she was older now, better able to judge character and value, and she knew David had both. In spades.
She wanted David. And all her life she had pretty much ended up with whatever she wanted. That was just the way life was for a Carrington where she came from.
She accepted David with a lazy sense of pleasure, moving to give him room on the couch, hooking a leg over his hip when be lay down facing her, dropping kisses on his rough cheek, until she found his mouth and opened to him.
&nbs
p; He was hot and sweet and she couldn't get enough of his taste, his hands on her skin, his clean, masculine scent. He began to unbutton the shirt and she helped him, nipping at his lips with her own, moving against his long, hard body, feeling his growing excitement beneath her hand, urging it on with her touch.
He groaned, quivering, and she laughed softly, loving the feeling of power she had over him, knowing it wouldn't last, but enjoying it while it did. She had him in the palm of her hand. That made her breath come very fast.
He went still for a moment. "The kids..." he murmured near her ear.
She shook her head. "They're asleep," she whispered back. "They're sound sleepers. They won't wake up. It's okay."
And he sank his hands into her again, holding her with a sensual satisfaction, like a primitive triumph from the hunt. She was his for the moment, his to have and to hold... and to love. It was almost too much to take in—like an overview of heaven.
He was shaking. Why was he shaking? When her hand touched his skin, sliding down across his chest and flattening over his navel, he felt the shivering again, coming from deep inside, and he realized it was a manifestation of his need for her, his anticipation.
And then she whispered something to him about protection.
There was no logical reason why that should stop him cold. But it did.
Protection. She needed protection from him all right, protection from his hunger. And he needed protection from what she could do to his heart and soul.
He closed his eyes, swore harshly and jackknifed away from her.
"What is it?" She sat up and stared at him in the gloom. The pale light seemed to find her breasts, illuminating them. "What's the matter?"
He turned his head away. "Cover up, Madison," he advised evenly. ' 'You'd better get back to bed. We can talk in the morning."
She pressed the shirt to her chest. "What did I do?" she asked softly.
"Nothing.'' He turned back and looked at her and wanted to touch her hair, reassure her with an arm around her shoulders, but he didn't dare. There was still too much adrenaline pumping through his veins.
