by Amii Lorin
Anne had accepted Andrew's first invitation to go out with him the previous spring, less than a year ago. She had accepted his proposal and ring three months ago. Yet, in all that time, he had never found it necessary to share a quiet intimate dinner with her. When he ushered her into the subdued, underplayed elegance of the old inn, the questions, and a vague uneasiness, began to stir in Anne.
Their dinner was expertly prepared and delicious and as they sipped their after-dinner coffee and liqueur, Anne studied Andrew through the shield of her lashes. His height was the only thing average about him. His smoothly brushed dark hair looked almost too perfect to be real, as did the matinee idol handsomeness of the face beneath it. His body was slender and compact, kept in peak condition by vigorous workouts at the local racquet club. His manners were impeccable and his attitude toward her had always been one of polite consideration. In essence Andrew was a cold, analytical mind in a well-dressed, attractive body.
Their relationship, so far, had been comfortable and emotionless, a fact that had gone a long way in her decision to accept his proposal. His casual lovemaking had always been just that—casual and undemanding. Anne felt safe with him because, for reasons she did not care to examine too closely, she herself shied away from any deep emotional involvement. But tonight there was a subtle difference in Andrew, a difference that made Anne uncomfortable.
"Where are you, darling?"
Andrew's quiet voice nudged Anne out of her reverie. Her eyes refocused on his somber face and she laughed shakily.
"I'm sorry, Andrew."
"What were you thinking about?" he probed. "Are you having problems in the office?"
Anne knew by the tone of his voice that he was feeling excluded. Andrew was still not fully in the picture as to her stepfather's will and its aftereffects. She had been so busy all week, thanks to Jud, not only during the day, but in the evenings as well. He had asked, no ordered, if politely, her into the library the last two nights to explain some business papers he'd found in his father's desk. Therefore the opportunity to talk to Andrew had not materialized.
Now, seeing Andrew's face grow grim and stubborn, Anne plunged into an explanation.
"You mean you are literally under his thumb?" he asked in astonishment when she'd finished.
"To a degree, yes," Anne answered softly. "Needless to say Troy and Todd resent him and his dictates like hell. But there is very little any one of us can do about it. He's a veritable slave driver in the office, and yet no one there seems to resent him too much. Possibly because he drives himself harder than anyone else."
"But this is untenable for you, Anne. You cannot possibly go on working day and night for this man simply because his father saw fit to insult you with ten percent of the stock. I find it hard to believe that he, or the twins for that matter, has not offered to buy the stock from you."
He, this man—Anne had not missed Andrew's refusal to use Jud's name. Sighing softly, she said wearily, "As a matter of fact they offered to buy the stock. All three of them. I do not want to sell it."
His eyes narrowed, but before he could voice his objection, Anne held out her hand placatingly, pleading, "Andrew, let me explain, please."
He looked on the verge of refusing but then nodded angrily.
"All right, but I'm damned if I can see a reasonable explanation for you putting up with his arrogance."
"In the first place," Anne admonished, "I do not feel insulted by Judson's bequest. True, as practically everyone has been eager to point out, he virtually left me in the middle, between his sons. But equally true, as Jud was only too happy to point out, Judson was fairly certain I would not sell or give my share to any of them."
"But why, for heaven's sake?" Andrew's growing impatience was beginning to show in the tone of his voice, the brightness of his usually cool, brown eyes.
"Simply because, in all conscience, I can't. Oh, Andrew, surely you of all people understand. If I sell, or give, the stock to Troy and Todd, they'll force Jud out and in their inexperience ruin the company. And if I sell"—no hint at the word give here—"to Jud, he'll take over completely. At least this way he is under some control."
"Precious damn little, I'd say, with a man like him," Andrew snapped. Then his legal mind reasserted itself, and he added, "But I do see your position. Not an enviable one either. But, Anne darling, how long is this tug-of-war likely to go on?"
"I don't know," Anne answered tiredly. "Right now the twins are in silent rebellion, but I'm hoping they pull themselves together and get down to the business of learning the business. The moment I feel they can handle the company, and Jud, I'll gladly hand over the stock. I don't really want it, as I feel I have no right to it in the first place."
"What! But that's ridiculous," Andrew exclaimed. "You were like a daughter to Mr. Cammeron. I would have thought he'd leave you much more. And when the time comes there will be no talk of giving anything to anyone. You have as much right to your legacy as he has, if not more. He's the deserter, not you."
Anne glanced up sharply, the unease she'd felt earlier doubling in proportion. What had gotten into Andrew? Never before had he assumed that proprietorial attitude toward her. But even more disquieting was the nasty edge to his tone whenever he spoke of Jud. As if he actually hated while at the same time envied him. But why? Anne had no answer to that, and so felt totally lost and confused. Besides which, she was just too tired to go into it with him. Reaching across the table, she touched his hand lightly
"Andrew, please, I'm really very tired. Could we leave this discussion for another time?"
For a moment Anne thought he would argue, but then he shrugged and murmured, "As you wish."
They left shortly after that and back in the car Anne rested her head against the seat, eyes closed. It had been a very long day. Unable to sleep past seven, Anne had finally pushed the covers back and dragged her tired body out of bed. She was not sleeping well, and when she did sleep, her rest was broken by dreams. Wild, distorted dreams that made no sense and left her shaken and frightened. Most upsetting of all was the recurrence of the drowning dream she'd had the first night Jud was home. It was always the same, never varying, and that alone shook her. She had promised herself she'd sleep late that morning and the fact that she was unable to do so sent her to the breakfast table irritable and snappy.
Jud had been sitting at the table, his breakfast finished, drinking his coffee while his eyes scanned the morning paper. His "good morning" had been coolly polite and when Anne barely mumbled a response, one bleached brow went up mockingly.
"Fall out on the wrong side of the bed this morning, Anne?" His silky tone had irritated her even more. "Or is the boss running you ragged?"
"The boss," she emphasized scathingly, "hasn't seen the day he could run me ragged. I will be fine as soon as I've had some coffee."
Brave words. Too brave in fact, for he took her up on it at once.
"In that case I'm sure you'll be happy to join me for an hour or two in the library. I have a few questions on some legal papers of the old man's that I found in the desk. Perhaps you could supply some answers."
An hour or two, a few questions, the man was an expert at the understatement. He had grilled her endlessly, chiding softly "why not?" whenever she had to tell him she had no answer. He had had Mrs. Davis bring a lunch tray in to them and had given her barely enough time to finish her salad before firing questions at her again. By three thirty Anne was on the verge of tears, inwardly appalled at how little she really knew of her stepfather's business affairs, when she'd thought she'd had a very good grasp of it all. Lord, if Jud could shatter her this soon, what in the world would he have done to the twins?
He had been studying a paper, head bent, when he calmly asked yet another question she had no answer for and in frustration she had almost screamed at him "I don't know." She'd paused, swallowing hard to force back a sob, then added chokingly, "I—I thought I had his complete confidence, but it's more than obvious I was wrong."
<
br /> Jud's head had snapped up at her outburst and his eyes, those damned cat eyes, watched the play of emotions cross her face with cool intent. It was that watchfulness that drove her to turn away abruptly and head for the door. More unnerved than she'd ever been before, she'd whispered, "I—I'll understand if you want to replace me in the office, get another assistant."
She had reached the door, hand groping for the knob, when he grasped her by the shoulders, holding her still, her back to him.
"Throwing in the towel already, Anne?" he taunted softly. "I really thought you had more guts than to fall apart at the first obstacle. If you go, who is going to run interference for Todd and Troy?"
She had listened to his words in disbelief and when he'd finished, she'd gasped, "You mean you want me to stay?"
He shook her gently, drawling, "My sweet Anne. Do you have any idea how long it would take me to train someone to replace you? I simply do not have the time. Besides, I have known all along that you couldn't possibly know all of the old man's business. I was merely trying to ascertain exactly what facts you were cognizant of."
He'd hesitated, turned her halfway around to him, then stopped, dropped his hands, and stepped back, away from her. "You're tired," he snapped impatiently. "Take off and get some rest. You'll need it, for we still have one hell of a lot of work before us."
He'd walked away from her, the very set of his shoulders a dismissal. Anne had been only too happy to escape, for the touch of his hands on her arms had caused a feeling of extreme weakness in her legs, a tight breathlessness in her chest.
* * * *
Anne moved restlessly against the plush covering of the car seat; then her eyes flew open as she felt the car slow down and then stop. Surely they couldn't be home already? They weren't. Andrew had brought the car to a stop on the side of a dark country road. He pulled the hand brake and turned to her, an unfamiliar sheen in his dark eyes.
"Andrew, what—" that was as far as she got, for, without speaking, he pulled her into his arms and cut off her words with his lips.
At first Anne returned his kiss, but within seconds she was struggling against him, her hands pushing at his chest. This wasn't a kiss, this was an assault, and she went cold and unresponsive. Never before had Andrew kissed her in this demanding way and not questioning the feeling of revulsion that swept through her, Anne fought him frantically. Her struggles just seemed to add fuel to his fire and the pressure on her lips grew brutal, his teeth ground against her, bruising her soft mouth. She went stiff when his hand clutched painfully at her breast and in desperation she tore her mouth from his, cried out, "Andrew, have you gone mad? Let me go, please."
His breathing was ragged and uneven, his voice harsh as he released her, flung himself back behind the wheel.
"You don't give an inch, do you Anne?" His voice was heavy with disgust.
Completely bewildered, Anne gasped, "I don't know what you mean."
"Don't you?" He almost snarled at her. "I'm human, Anne, a man. How long did you think I'd be satisfied with cold, chaste little kisses?"
"But—but you never said anything," Anne stammered.
"Good Lord, what do you suppose I was just trying to do? We've been engaged for three months. I need a woman and the woman who has agreed to be my wife has just turned away from me."
Overtired, overwrought, Anne stared at him, stunned. What could have caused this change in him? Not for one minute could she believe in his sudden overwhelming need of her. No, there was more to his about-face than that. But what could it be?
It wasn't until later, when she was safe in her own bed, that Anne realized Andrew had not actually said he needed her. That his exact words had been "I need a woman" not "I need you."
Even though Andrew had apologized after bringing her home, Anne begged off seeing him the following day. His attack—she could not even force herself to think of it as lovemaking—had left her feeling sick and in some way soiled, and for the life of her she could not think why. True, he had been rough, but she was a young woman and although she lacked actual experience, she was aware of the fact that there were times when men did get rough with women. She was going to be Andrew's wife, had known all along there would eventually have to be a physical side to their relationship. So why had she felt that revulsion, that near panic?
Anne spent all day Sunday unconsciously avoiding the answers to her own questions.
Her second week as Jud's assistant followed the same pattern as her first, Jud driving ahead tirelessly, Anne pushing herself to keep up with him. The only difference being that now she had an office of her own. It was there, she had seen it. She kept her handbag in one of her desk drawers but she was rarely ever in it. Also, in open defiance, she now left the building at lunchtime. If Lorna could go out for lunch, she'd asked herself angrily, why couldn't she? Her defiance was wasted on Jud, who merely glanced up when she'd informed him of her decision, smiled, and murmured, "Why not? It'll do you good to stretch your legs, clear out the morning cobwebs," and turned back to his work.
Although Anne had her doubts about the employer/employee status between Jud and Lorna, she observed no evidence to the contrary during the time Lorna was there. Their behavior was always office-procedure correct, her manner toward Anne respectful. Even so Anne breathed a silent sigh of relief when Lorna left the office early Friday afternoon, leaving Donna in possession of her desk.
Andrew called her several times during that week, but Anne put him off pleading either tiredness or work. Both of which were true, for Jud, having finished with the managerial files, had plowed into the mill employees' folders. Anne found herself enclosed in the library with Jud most evenings, folders covering the large desk until, usually around nine thirty, her mother would rescue her with a softly chided, "Jud, really, you can't expect the girl to work all day and all night. Why don't you both come into the living room, relax, and have a nightcap with me?"
Every night Jud's reaction had been the same. He had dismissed Anne at once, declined her mother's offer with a gentle, "Thank you, Margaret, but I want to give this a few more minutes. I would appreciate a drink in here, if you don't mind." He would turn back to his work, giving Anne the impression that both she and her mother were immediately forgotten.
Friday night Anne and Jud were in the middle of a heated, though impersonal, argument concerning company policy on employee vacations when Mrs. Davis knocked quietly on the door and told Anne she was wanted on the phone. As Anne left the room Jud taunted softly, "Hold that last thought, because I'm prepared to destroy it completely."
Anger burning her cheeks, Anne snatched up the receiver and snapped, "Yes, who is it?"
"Hello to you too," Andrew replied, the very coolness of his tone causing the flush to deepen in her cheeks at her bad manners.
"I'm sorry, Andrew," she apologized quickly. "Jud and I were in the middle of an argument and I'm afraid I carried my impatience to the phone."
"You're not still working?" Andrew asked in amazement. "What in the hell is the matter with that man? Is it his goal in life to see you drop in your tracks?"
"Don't be silly," Anne soothed. "I'm sure Jud hasn't the vaguest idea of the number of hours I've put in the last two weeks. As to his wanting to see me drop in my tracks, I doubt he'd notice if I did. He'd probably just step over me and calmly go about the business of finding a new assistant."
Andrew made a very impolite noise at his end, then said, "Not very complimentary to you. Try and break it up soon, will you, darling? We've been invited to a small dinner party at the home of a very important client tomorrow evening and I want you looking your best."
This sounded like the Andrew she knew and Anne wondered if he'd decided to ignore the incident of the previous Saturday.
"Anne?" Andrew's voice nudged.
"Yes, yes, of course. What time should I be ready?"
"We've been invited for pre-dinner drinks at seven thirty, so I'll come for you at seven. Will that be all right?"
"Yes
, I'll be ready." Then a little devil inside made her tease. "And I promise I'll try not to disgrace you with my haggard appearance."
The teasing apparently went over his head, for he added, "I should hope not. As I said, this is a very important client."
Seconds later, as Anne cradled the receiver, she asked herself what had happened to Andrew's sense of humor, and realized, with a shock, that she'd never seen much evidence of his having one. Head bent, puzzling at her own lack of perception of the man she'd agreed to marry, Anne started back to the library. She had taken only a few steps when she was brought up short, her eyes encountering a pair of feet, one crossed negligently over the other. Slowly she lifted her head, her eyes following on an angle, long, jean-clad legs to slim hips and waist, a broad chest and shoulders, covered in a loose knit pullover and finally coming to an abrupt stop at two glittering amber eyes, the lids narrowed in amusement.
"Poor baby," Jud crooned softly. "Is the big, bad boss overworking you?"
Breathing deeply in a vain attempt to control her suddenly erratic heartbeats, Anne glared into those odd, feline-like eyes. Instilling a coolness she was far from feeling into her voice, she asked sarcastically, "Do you make a habit of eavesdropping on private conversations?"
Unabashed, unruffled, he leaned lazily against the door frame and allowed his eyes to roam slowly over her. When his eyes paused then fastened intently on her slightly parted lips, Anne had the weird sensation she could actually feel his hard, sardonic mouth touch hers.
