A Hard-Hearted Hero (Harlequin Temptation)

by Pamela Burford

  “Don’t get me wrong, it’s not all black-and-white. Those weeks with you taught me to believe in myself on a very basic level—to trust my instincts and my ability to cope with—” she chuckled “—the unexpected, shall we say? Still, I felt this burning need to reestablish myself, assert my independence. That’s why I’m working so hard now to jump-start my career.”

  Her ferocious pride was something he both admired and cursed. “Sweetheart, after watching Mr. Big Shot Producer fawn all over you, I’d say you’re on your way. And even if that show doesn’t pan out, the next one will. You’re damn good at what you do.”

  She beamed at his praise. “I am, aren’t I?” The smile faded as she whipped her head around, finally taking note of the snow-dusted trees and boulders flying past. They were crossing town through Central Park. Headed toward the East Side—not Brooklyn.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  “Kidnapping you, of course.”

  She stared at him. “Is that supposed to be funny?”

  Real smooth, Trent. “I’m an idiot,” he said with a sigh.

  She offered no argument.

  He said, “I have something I want to show you.”

  “Caleb—”

  “Then I’ll take you home. I promise.”

  Her expression was bleak as she turned from him. Was he doing it again—steamrolling her? And if she was oversensitive, who was to blame?

  “Listen, Elizabeth, I’ll take you home right now if you want Right this instant. Just say the word. But I’m asking you, please. There’s something—someplace—I’d like you to see.” When she hesitated, he added, “It’s important to me.”

  She didn’t look at him. “All right.”

  “Thanks.” He reached over and squeezed her gloved hand.

  Within a few minutes he was turning onto a block in the east Sixties and scanning ahead for parking. “All right!” he called, spying a minivan’s backup lights. “Watch the master parallel park.”

  He’d always loved this side of New York, the stately row houses with their iron railings, ornate entrances and elegant brownstone facades. He recalled the posh, sprawling apartment on Central Park South where his family had lived until his father’s death. As grand as that apartment was, it had never felt like a real home. Even then, at age ten, Caleb had a fondness for these old town houses that exuded warmth and refinement along with a generous dollop of New York history.

  As he shuffled the Land Rover into the spot vacated by the van, Elizabeth peered out the window, perusing the neighborhood but saying nothing. He didn’t know whether her silence was good or bad. They climbed out and he led her three doors down, through an iron gate and up eight steps to a doorway.

  “Whose house is this?” she asked as he fitted the key in the lock. “Is the owner away?”

  “I left the heat on, so it should be comfortable.” He ushered her into the foyer and flicked a switch. Light from a century-old overhead fixture gleamed on the freshly refinished oak floor, where it wasn’t protected with brown paper runners. Through an archway could be seen the large parlor with its green marble fireplace and original wood moldings. Even devoid of furniture, this place was impressive.

  He stood in the foyer and watched her amble into the parlor, hands stuffed in her jacket pockets, booted footfalls echoing in the empty space. She lingered before the fireplace and stared down at the one furnishing in the house. His sleeping bag.

  She turned and faced him. “What’s going on here, Caleb?”

  He unbuttoned his jacket. Pulled off his gloves and stuffed them in a pocket. She wasn’t going to make this easy for him; he could see that. “I want to show you the rest of the house, Elizabeth. It’s four stories, with a terrific backyard and—”

  “Did you buy this place?”

  He took a deep breath. “Yes. For you.”

  He saw her eyes widen, but she still didn’t smile. In that instant he recalled her hostile reaction in his weight room when he’d offered to buy her new clothes. He’d licked his lips to start over when she spoke up.

  “Why did you hunt me down at the theater?”

  “I needed to see what was keeping you from me.”

  “Reconnoitering the enemy?”

  “Something like that. And...I figured it was past time I checked out your world, what’s important to you.” He dragged his fingers through his snow-damp hair. “You’re already plenty familiar with my world. It’s not like you had any say in the matter.”

  She seemed to sag a little. He itched to take her in his arms, but something warned him not to rush her. A meow drew their attention to the floor and the young cat crossing the room to inspect the newcomer.

  Elizabeth knelt and dropped her shoulder bag. She stripped off her gloves and reached out to stroke the animal, her eyes bright. “Bullwinkle?” She lifted him and examined his distinctive black-and-white markings. She grinned at Caleb. “It’s Bullwinkle! He’s gotten so big!”

  Bullwinkle’s tail flicked in annoyance and she released him. But he lingered to nudge her with his nose and rub against her in sinuous feline rapture. This onetime runt had been her favorite of Natasha’s litter.

  Was it shameless of Caleb to use a dumb beast to soften her up? He smiled crookedly. Was all still fair in love and war? The wry look Elizabeth shot him said she wasn’t fooled by Captain Trent’s Bullwinkle strategy.

  He joined her in the shadowed parlor. “Come outside with me. I want you to see the backyard.” He helped her to her feet as Bullwinkle sauntered to the sleeping bag and flopped down for a nap. “We can look at the stars. Remember how we used to look at the stars with my telescope?”

  She allowed him to lead her to the back of the house. “Stars? Caleb, it’s snowing! Besides, this is big, bright New York City. We wouldn’t have much chance of seeing stars on a clear night.”

  He unlocked the back door and she followed him outside. Her breath caught. “It’s beautiful.”

  Snowflakes pirouetted in the wash of light from the windows, lending a magical quality to the scene. The yard was city-small but beautifully landscaped, with a high brick wall for privacy and a three-sided grape arbor that would be bursting with fragrant fruit and huge, shady leaves come summer. He followed as she perused the grounds, their feet crunching on the frozen grass beneath its light blanket of snow.

  He said, “I bought this place from one of my clients—he’s moving his business out of town and had to sell quickly. I wouldn’t say I got it for a song, but since he didn’t have to go through a broker, we split the savings. I’m moving my things down next week.”

  She turned to cast him a curious look. “You’re making this your primary residence? I thought you liked running your consulting business from way up in God’s country.”

  He shrugged. “I’ll adjust. I like the city well enough. And it’s not like you can pursue your acting career a few hundred miles from Broadway. That eight-hour commute is a bitch.”

  She didn’t comment on his presumptuousness. He took that as a good sign and forged ahead. “I figured, since I picked the house, you can choose the furniture. I’ll go with anything but flowered chintz. I don’t care much for flowered chintz.”

  “What are you going to do with the house upstate?”

  “Keep it. It’ll be our country place, like it was originally meant to be. We need someplace where we can see the stars. You’ll be happy to know I had all the razor wire removed. Now it looks more like a vacation home and less like Leavenworth.”

  She stopped at the rear of the yard to examine a heavy, ornate wrought-iron bench. Walking behind it, she idly swept powdery snow off the filigreed backrest and turned around to lean against it. She tipped her face up to the sky. In the gloom he could just make out the snowflakes settling on her eyelashes. He wanted to lick them off.

  She said, “Speaking of the big house, I can’t keep up with our favorite felon’s legal shenanigans. What’s the latest?”

  “Seems Lugh’s had a falling out wit
h his lawyers.”

  “Again? Is he going to dump this team, too?”

  “Looks that way.” Lugh had fired his original lawyers when the judge denied bail. “Poor guy just can’t understand why everyone hates him.”

  She ducked in mock sympathy. “Charming fellow like him.”

  Caleb said, “When Lugh was holding you...talking about what he’d done to David, what he had in store for you...” He shook his head, fighting the surge of venom even now. “I’d never felt rage like that, Elizabeth. Never. It took everything I had just to keep from throwing myself on the guy and taking him apart. If he hadn’t been holding a gun on you...”

  She looked away. “I hadn’t realized David had confided in him. I hated hearing Lugh ridicule him like that, but at least he corroborated what I’d told you about David and me.”

  “Elizabeth.” He reached out to turn her face to his, make her meet his eyes. “Sweetheart, I didn’t need to hear it from that demented son of a bitch. Don’t you know I already believed in you?”

  He felt her chin tremble under his fingers, and he tenderly stroked her cheek. “I guess I can’t say it enough, can I? After everything I put you through.”

  She placed her hand on his. “You heard Lugh tell how he worked on David, wore him down. Do you still blame yourself for not being more involved? For not running your brother’s life for him?”

  “No. And that was the hardest part. Giving myself permission to let go of the guilt. David was an adult. Maybe not the strongest-willed guy, maybe not the most mature, but more than capable of making his own decisions.”

  “But he was still your baby brother,” she whispered, kissing his palm and releasing it.

  He felt his throat start to close up. She understood. “Yeah. He was still my baby brother.”

  There was more that needed to be said. He swallowed the knot in his throat, along with a heaping spoonful of pride. “Listen, uh, for what it’s worth...my mother was never a healthy woman. She’d been failing for some time. 1 know I implied, way back when, that you were responsible for her death, too. But even then, I never really believed it.”

  “Caleb.” Elizabeth touched his arm. “I never thought you did.”

  “But it was just so damn petty, so cruel. All of it. I don’t blame you for not being able to forgive me.”

  “Is that what you think? That I haven’t been in touch because I can’t forgive you?”

  “I told you I’d make it up to you, and I meant it.”

  She nodded toward the rear facade of his new home. “Like this?”

  He blinked. “Hell no! Elizabeth—” He stopped, never having heard himself whine before. It was an unsettling sound. He cleared his throat. “Dammit, woman!”

  “Well, you must admit, it looks...” She shrugged.

  “I don’t have to admit a damn thing! I don’t give a rat’s ass how it looks!”

  “Stop swearing at me.”

  His mouth snapped shut.

  “And stop growling.”

  “I’m not growling. You’ll know when I growl.”

  The witch was smiling! She lifted a slender finger and ran her knuckle up and down his throat He couldn’t have looked away from her bottomless brown eyes if his life depended on it.

  Her voice was a low, seductive whisper. He was instantly hard. “It comes from right about here,” she said, stroking his throat. “I can feel the vibration. I don’t think you’re even aware of it.”

  He clamped his hand around her wrist and felt his Adam’s apple leap against her knuckle. “I’ve waited three long months for you to touch me, Elizabeth. Don’t start something you’re not willing to finish.”

  She didn’t back down from his fierce gaze. “I don’t want you to think the issue is forgiveness, Caleb. I forgave you a long time ago.”

  His heart banged painfully and he pressed her palm to his chest as if to calm it. He said, “I wish I’d known that.”

  “I was afraid,” she whispered.

  He scowled. “Of me?”

  “No. Never. I was afraid...of my need for you. Of how desperately I wanted to see you again.”

  “Elizabeth...” He tried to drag her into his arms, but she held herself away.

  She said, “I thought it would be easier once I was on my own, back in my little apartment in Brooklyn, back in the endless grind of auditions and callbacks and rehearsals. I wanted you, but I didn’t want to be with you for the wrong reasons.”

  “What would be the wrong reasons?”

  She hugged herself. “When we—when we made lone, I was afraid that what I felt for you was...warped. That my emotions were distorted by my dependence on you.”

  He was catching on. “The Stockholm syndrome. Kind of like what happened to Patty Heart. Unnatural attachment to your captor.”

  She nodded.

  His first impulse was to dismiss her fears. He knew what he felt for Elizabeth. It was only natural that she return his love. But he also knew it wasn’t that simple. Hadn’t he just compared her reactions to those of a POW?

  Carefully he said, “You’ve had three months to think about it. What’s your take on it now?” Before she could answer, he raised a palm. “I’ll wait longer if I have to, Elizabeth. I’ll wait as long as it takes for you to feel comfortable about this. About us.” He held his breath.

  “I don’t need any more time.” She slid her hands under his open jacket and up his chest. “I love you, Caleb. The longer we’re apart, the more miserable I am. I think that means it’s the real McCoy.”

  He groaned and crushed her to him. And kissed her hard until they both nearly collapsed. He whispered into her ear, “I’ll do everything in my power to make you happy, sweetheart. Just promise we’ll never be apart again. I don’t think I could survive it.”

  He felt her smile. “I can’t imagine spending my life with anyone else.”

  He cradled her face in his palms and licked those snowflakes off her eyelashes. “I’ll give you the key to the handcuffs. If I get too overbearing, you have my permission to discipline me in whatever fashion you deem appropriate.”

  Her grin was lopsided. “Sounds a little kinky to me. I don’t know if I’m ready for that, almost-virgin that I am.”

  “Then that’s something else we’ll have to work on.” He dropped his hands to stroke her hips through her long wool skirt. When he gently squeezed her bottom, she arched toward him with a little gasp. He tilted her head and took her lips again in a deep, possessive kiss. His tongue stroked the sweetness of her mouth as his hands became more aggressive, molding, probing, searching.

  She moaned and tried to get even closer to him, which was impossible. Breathless, he broke the kiss. “Elizabeth. Sweetheart.” He ran his hands over the frustratingly pillowy front of her jacket. “Where are they?”

  “I never had that complaint before.”

  He had a choice. He could either strip himself and Elizabeth naked and let the neighbors find their frozen cadavers locked together in the morning, or he could try to drag her inside to his sleeping bag before he exploded.

  Or he could let instinct take over.

  “Caleb, what...?” she said over her shoulder as he turned her around to face the back of the iron bench.

  He pulled the sides of his shearling jacket around her, enveloping her in his heat. “I need you, Elizabeth.” He held her firmly by the hips and let her feel the erection that hammered her right through their clothes. “I need you now.” She shuddered and he felt her tension melt as she wriggled back against him.

  He yanked her skirt up to her waist. She sucked in a sharp breath as he ran his icy hands over her hot, satin skin. Further exploration revealed she wore silky bikini panties and thigh-high stockings that stayed up all by themselves, without garters. He’d long ago concluded that women’s underthings were magic. No use trying to figure them out.

  He hooked his thumbs in her panties and pulled them down. After a few moments struggling to get them over her cowboy boots, he jammed them in his
pocket.

  “Caleb...oh, I missed you so much,” she whimpered as he unzipped and freed himself. He pulled her against him, flesh to flesh, and was rewarded by her strangled sob and the restless movements that betrayed her hunger. He reached around her hip and slid his fingers into the soft hair and the silky folds it shielded. She was so hot, so slick and ready!

  Desperate little cries escaped her. He prayed he’d be able to rein in his own galloping need long enough to give her pleasure. “Sweetheart, I love you so much,” he murmured into her ear. Quickly retrieving a condom from his wallet, he sheathed himself, then tilted her hips and felt her slippery heat welcome him.

  He surged into her. Her hoarse scream bounced off the brick walls surrounding them. He forced himself to remain still as her tight flesh rippled around him.

  “Elizaheth...am I hurting you?” She was, after all, an almost-virgin.

  “No! No!” she gasped. “It’s just...so good. Too good.”

  Didn’t he know it. She angled herself to receive him fully, her knuckles white on the bench. The unspoken invitation sparked a primitive response from deep within him. He brushed her hair off her neck and closed his teeth on the tender skin. Just hard enough to hold her, claim her, stamp her as his as he buried himself to the hilt.

  He reared up, staggered by the stark physical pleasure that was nearly painful in its intensity...by the boundless depth of his love for this woman. He felt raw and exposed and cleansed by that love.

  He continued to caress her intimately, determined to give her the same pleasure she gave him. He urged her to move with him, and she did, eagerly meeting his deep, fierce thrusts, the cold forgotten as they generated their own heat.

  Sharp, panting gasps heralded her climax, turning to shrill cries as she bucked against him. He let himself go then, let her rhythmic, clutching release trigger his own. His shout echoed off the walls as he gave himself over to the pure pumping energy that consumed him.

  She slumped and he held her up, both of them trembling and slick with sweat. She said hoarsely, “I hear you can also do this in a bed.”