Hard to Handle

by Diana Palmer

  “Yes. Of course,” she lied. She could feel the heat of him, the threatening masculinity in a way she’d never dreamed of feeling it. She had to be careful. If she gave herself away, he’d never touch her. She wanted this with him so badly, refusing to admit even to herself that pregnancy was a very big part of the wanting, that her need of him included that faint possibility.

  “I’m not cruel,” he said, moving her so that she was completely against him. He felt the soft little tremors in her body as she stiffened in reaction before she relaxed and let him hold her closer. “I’m not brutal.” He slid one lean hand along her side, over the curve of breast and waist and hip down to her smooth, soft thigh. He eased his leg between both of hers and brought her into intimacy. “And for your sake, I’ll try not to be too demanding.”

  She gasped at the sudden stark contact.

  “Shhhh,” he whispered, smoothing the hair at her nape. “Lie still. It’s better like this, lying on our sides. It’s more intimate. Lift your leg over mine.”

  She blushed scarlet, praying that she wouldn’t blow her cover. She did as he told her, but her hands were gripping his shoulders for dear life, biting in, and her stiffness was making him curious.

  “Haven’t you ever done it like this?” he whispered at her ear as his hands began to touch her intimately.

  “No,” she choked. It was true. But she’d never done it any way at all, including like this.

  “Look at me.”

  She had to force her shocked, frightened eyes to meet his, and then she saw the curiosity narrowing them. He touched her where she was most a woman and she clenched her teeth to keep from crying out.

  His firm lips parted as he probed delicately, holding her eyes. He scowled, because something was different here. Very different.

  “Are you…are you going to use something,” she managed, trying to divert him.

  But it didn’t work. He was experienced enough to recognize what was different, because this particular difference was so blatant that he didn’t have to be a doctor to know what it was.

  “My God,” he whispered explosively. His hand stilled, but it didn’t withdraw.

  “Hunter…” she began, passion growing cold at the look on his face.

  He searched her eyes and his hand moved. She bit her lip and tears threatened.

  “Does this hurt, little one?” he whispered softly, and did it again. She tried not to flinch, but the intimacy and faint discomfort defeated her. “Yes,” he answered his own question. His face mirrored his shock. He looked at her as if he’d never seen her before, and still that maddening hand didn’t move away. He couldn’t believe it. A woman with her beauty, at her age. A virgin.

  “I didn’t think you’d know,” she stammered. “The books say that even a doctor can’t tell…”

  “That’s true,” he replied gently. “But you’re intact, little one. Do you understand? Almost completely intact.”

  She swallowed, lowering her embarrassed eyes to the jerky rise and fall of his bronzed chest. “The doctors said that it would be uncomfortable, but that I wouldn’t have to have surgery when the time came,” she said finally. “It’s mine to give,” she added, lifting her face back to his.

  “And you want to give it to me?” he asked gently.

  “Yes.”

  He eased her over onto her back, his eyes soft and quiet and very dark. “Then give it to me this way, for now,” he whispered. His mouth touched hers so tenderly that her heart ached, and his hand began to move very slowly, expertly, on her.

  She tensed at the sudden shock of pleasure and tried to get away, but he threw a long, powerful leg across both of hers.

  “No,” he whispered into her mouth. “I’m going to take you up to the stars. Don’t fight me,” he said softly.

  She trembled as the pleasure bit into her body. It came again, and again. And all the while he kissed her, his lips tender on her face while he made magic in her body. He saw the fear and smiled reassuringly, his voice coaxing, softly praising. He felt the urgency, felt when it reached breaking point. He knew exactly what to do, and when. Her back arched and she gasped, weeping as the pleasure took her, convulsing her under his delighted, fascinated gaze. Heat washed over him, blinding fire exploding, racking him even as he heard her cry out. Then, ages later, she relaxed, her tears hot and salty in his mouth as he kissed them away. He relaxed, too, because in the midst of her own explosive fulfillment, her movements had triggered his. He kissed her closed eyelids, thinking that never in his life had he experienced anything quite so perfect. And from such relatively innocent love play.

  He lifted his head, turning hers toward him to search her drowned, shamed eyes.

  “Is sex a sin for you?” he said softly. “Is that why you’re a virgin?”

  “There was never anyone I wanted enough,” she whispered, sobbing. “I wanted you so badly. So much that I would have died to have you…”

  He brushed her mouth with his, feeling humble. “Virginity is a rare gift,” he whispered. “Yours to give, certainly. But not outside marriage. I have my own kind of honor, Jennifer. Taking your innocence without a commitment would violate everything I believe in.” He lifted his lips from hers and searched her eyes quietly. “I won’t take you. And, yes, I want to. I always have.”

  She swallowed the tears, wiping them away with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry if I hurt you,” she said, avoiding his bold gaze.

  “Hurt me how?”

  She flushed.

  He laughed gently. “Oh. That. No. I had as much pleasure from it as you did.” He rolled over onto his back lazily and stretched, feeling years younger and full of life. He sprawled, aware of her fascinated eyes on his body, drinking in that feminine appreciation. “God, that was good,” he said huskily. “Good! Like the first sip of water after the desert.”

  She sat up, a little self-conscious of her nudity, but his eyes were warm and admiring and she forgot her shyness. “But we didn’t do anything, really,” she said.

  He brought her hand to his chest and caressed it. “I felt exactly what you did. The same need, the same sweet release.” His head turned toward her. “Sleep with me.”

  She colored. “You just said…”

  “That I wouldn’t have sex with you,” he agreed. “That isn’t what I asked. Stay the night. We’ll lie in each other’s arms and sleep.”

  Her breath caught. “Could we?”

  He drew her to his side, pillowing her head on his broad shoulder. “Yes. We could.” His hand reached for the light, and he turned it out, folding her closer. “For tonight,” he whispered at her ear, “we’re lovers. Even if not conventional ones.”

  She closed her eyes with ecstasy, wanting to tell him everything, how she felt, how deeply she loved him, needed him. But she didn’t dare. He thought it was just desire, and she had to let him keep thinking it. If he knew how involved she was emotionally, his pride wouldn’t let him near her again. He wouldn’t want to hurt her.

  She flattened her hand on his chest and sighed. “This is heaven,” she whispered.

  He didn’t echo the words back, but he could have. He’d never spent an entire night in a woman’s arms. The need to keep Jennifer here kept him awake long after she relaxed in sleep.

  The next morning, he kissed her awake. He was already dressed, but his eyes were enjoying the sight of her with the covers pulled away in a purely masculine way.

  “Nymph,” he murmured, sweeping a possessive hand down her body. “How can you be a virgin?”

  “Pure living,” she said, and laughed delightedly.

  He brought her to her feet and kissed her softly. “You’d better get dressed. Morning is a bad time for men, and all my noble scruples aren’t going to protect you if I have to look at you this way much longer.”

  She sighed and leaned against him. “There won’t be a man,” she whispered. “Not now.”

  His teeth ground together. Why in God’s name did she have to say things like that? “Get
dressed,” he said tersely.

  She was shocked at the sudden change in attitude, at his fierce anger. She pulled back from him, wounded, and searched for her clothes.

  He didn’t turn his back. He couldn’t. He watched her dress, his heart pounding, his body aching for hers. It had taken all his willpower to drag himself out of bed this morning, when he wanted her to the point of madness. It had taken a cold shower and a self-lecture to get himself back in control.

  “I wanted you last night,” he said huskily. “I want you even more this morning. I’m not trying to be cruel, but the risk is just too damned great, do you understand?”

  She was back in her gown now, everything under it in place. She nodded without really understanding and without looking at him and went to get her purse off the dresser, where he must have put it this morning. She took out a small brush and made some sense of her disheveled hair. She shouldn’t feel like a fallen woman, she told herself. But she did. She’d thrown herself at him, and he hadn’t wanted her enough to take the risk of involvement. It had been just a pleasant interlude to him. But to her, it had been everything.

  He stood behind her, in dress slacks and shirt and tie and sports jacket, very urbane and sophisticated. His lean hands held her shoulders and he looked at their joint reflection, his eyes narrowing at the contrast.

  “Dark and light,” he said curtly. “Indian and white. If I gave you a baby, it would belong to both worlds and neither world. We could never have a child together.”

  So that was why he was so afraid of not being prepared with her. Because he didn’t want her to have his child. It was so final…

  She broke down and cried. He whipped her around and held her, rocking her, his arms fiercely possessive, the tremor in her body echoing in his.

  “I could love you,” he said roughly. “You could become the most important thing in my life. But I won’t let it happen. We can’t become involved. You have your world, I have mine.” He tilted her mouth up to his and his dark eyes were frightening as they searched hers intently. “Kiss me. This is goodbye.”

  Her mouth opened for his, inviting it, giving him everything he asked for, everything he didn’t. He groaned, lifting her into an intimate, exquisite embrace, and she whimpered because the pleasure was overwhelming. She clung to his powerful shoulders, breathing him, while the kiss reached its climax and left them both shaking. He let her slide to the floor, letting her feel his stark, urgent arousal. She was the cause of it; he was proud that he was such a man with her.

  She took a slow breath, her mouth red from the aching kiss, and stepped back from him. Something died in her soft blue eyes as she looked up at him, but she managed a smile.

  “Do you have a first name?” she whispered.

  He nodded. “Phillip. I don’t think I’ve ever told it to anyone else.”

  She fought back the tears. “Thank you.” She turned away from him, picking up her purse with hands that shook. “I’d better go back to my room.” She glanced back at him. “It was the best night of my life. I’ll live on it forever.”

  She opened the door and ran out, blind and deaf, almost stumbling in her haste to get across the parlor of the suite to her own room. Such a short distance, yet it was like moving from one life to another, she thought, blind to the tormented face of the man she’d left behind.

  Hunter watched her door close, and he leaned heavily against his door facing. It was for the best, he kept telling himself. But the memory of Jennifer in his arms was going to take years to fade. Maybe more years than he even had left.

  8

  Back in her own room, Jennifer changed from her evening dress into slacks and a short-sleeved red silk top, put her blond hair in a ponytail and tied it with a colorful red patterned scarf. But her heart wasn’t in how she looked. Hunter had said goodbye, and what he meant was that they could work together for another ten years, but it would never again be more intimate than two colleagues.

  She hoped that Eugene would be through with his politicking so that they could go home to Tulsa. She couldn’t spend much more time around Hunter without going mad, especially after last night. He knew things about her now that no one else in the world did, and it was faintly unnerving.

  His tenderness had surprised and delighted her, despite the circumstances. She wished she knew a little more about men. It occurred to her that a man who’d worked himself into a frenzy wanting a woman would have every right to be furious when he had to draw back. But Hunter hadn’t been angry with her. He’d been kind. Did that mean that he hadn’t wanted her very much in the first place, or did he care enough to put her feelings before his? She’d never been so confused, or so embarrassed. It was humiliating to have him know not only that she was on fire for him, but that she was a virgin to boot. If he wanted a weapon to use against her, he had a great one now. She dreaded facing him again. She had a feeling that last night wouldn’t make any difference in his public treatment of her.

  As it turned out, she was right. When she got downstairs to the restaurant for breakfast, Hunter stood, as did Eugene, for her to be seated, but his expression was stony and it gave away absolutely nothing.

  “Good morning,” Eugene said with a smile.

  “You look very pretty,” Cynthia added.

  It wasn’t a good morning, and Jennifer didn’t feel pretty, she felt sick all over. She didn’t quite meet Hunter’s eyes as she sat down, mumbling something polite.

  “Wasn’t the ball wonderful?” Cynthia asked with a sigh. “I’ve never enjoyed anything quite as much.”

  “It was super,” Jennifer said, staring blankly at her menu.

  “I noticed that you were getting a lot of attention, Hunter,” Eugene murmured dryly. “Especially from our host’s sister.”

  “She wanted to see my scalps,” he explained with a faint smile. He glanced toward Jennifer, his dark eyes giving nothing away. “Jennifer rescued me. We both had enough popularity to suit us by then, so we went back to the hotel.”

  “Sorry,” Eugene said, sobering. “I hadn’t realized I’d be putting you on the spot like that.”

  “I can handle social warfare,” the younger man said imperturbably. “How did things work out?”

  Eugene grinned. “Great. I got my deal. All we have to do is wait for the paperwork, and they’re going to shoot that through. We should be able to send you two back down there to finalize the exact location within a month. I want to talk to two more people today. We’ll fly home first thing in the morning.”

  At the mention of sending them back to the desert, Jennifer’s face went paper white. Under the table, Hunter’s lean hand caught hers where it lay on her lap. He enfolded it and his fingers contracted gently, sending a fiery thrill through Jennifer’s body.

  “I thought you knew where to look,” Hunter replied.

  Eugene nodded. “Oh, we do. What we’re going to need you to do is camp out at a false location, to make sure our friends are led off the beaten track while we’re running our seismic survey and doing flyovers.”

  “You don’t think the agents will be able to hear dynamite blasts going off over the hill when our geologic technicians set up the seismic equipment to register the sound waves?” Jennifer asked with a smile. Hunter’s strong fingers were warm and reassuring around her own, but they were making it hard to breathe normally.

  “We’ll work something out,” Eugene said. He studied Jennifer’s face with an intensity that made her nervous, especially when his calculating blue eyes went to Hunter. “Uh, you don’t have any problem with spending a few more days out on the desert together?”

  “Of course not,” Hunter said easily.

  “No,” Jennifer agreed, and even smiled.

  “You’re both lying through your teeth.” Eugene nodded slowly. “But I can’t help it. You started this for me, you’ll have to finish it. I’ll try to work things so that we keep the field time to a minimum. Now. What shall we eat?”

  Breakfast seemed to take forever. Jennifer
still couldn’t puzzle out Hunter’s behavior. That lean hand wrapped around hers before breakfast had knocked half the breath out of her, even if his expression hadn’t revealed anything.

  While Eugene and Cynthia stood at the counter, Hunter caught Jennifer’s arm and pulled her gently to one side.

  “There’s no need to look like that,” he said softly, his dark eyes searching her shy ones. “It’s all right.”

  “How do I look?” she asked.

  “Embarrassed. Shamed.” His hand dropped from her arm. “We did nothing last night that would have consequences. You understand?” he added, his dark eyes probing.

  She turned red and swallowed hard. “Yes, I know,” she said huskily. She couldn’t meet his eyes.

  “But it still embarrasses you to look at me?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  His lean hand touched her long ponytail and he felt at a loss for words for the first time in recent memory. He didn’t quite know what to say to her. She was nothing like the woman he’d thought her. He could hardly make himself believe that such a beautiful, desirable woman was totally innocent. And in so many ways. He looked at her mouth and felt again its soft, hungry response, felt the fierce need in her body that he’d wanted so desperately to satisfy. He still ached for her, but the shock of her chastity had spared him the shattering loss of honor he would have felt had he compromised her.

  “You were a surprise, little one,” he said half under his breath.

  “And a big disappointment, I imagine, too,” she replied.

  “No.” He gently tugged her ponytail until she looked up at him. “You don’t have to worry about being alone with me on the desert. I’ll take care of you. In every way.”

  She forced a smile. “I’ll try not to be too much of a trial to you,” she said quietly. “I’m…sorry…about what happened at the ball. I guess you know it all, now, don’t you?”

  “I know that you’re vulnerable,” he replied, his eyes soft and very dark. “I won’t take advantage of it.”