by Diana Palmer
Even McCallum noticed. He called her to dictate a letter and stopped right in the middle of a sentence to study her.
"My God, you're beautiful," he said softly, his eyes sketching her face.
She blushed. "Thank you."
"God knows, it's not flattery. For a long time, you've walked around here like a little ghost. Did I do that to you?" he asked, and the pain was in his eyes.
She shook her head.
"Don't lie, Madeline. I hurt you. I did it deliberately," he added softly. "God knows I'd give anything to take back what I said."
She studied the pad in her lap. "It's over now. We've friends again."
"Friends?" he mused.
She met the look in his eyes and blushed furiously.
He leaned back in his chair, big and masculine and vibrant, the gray of his suit darkening the gray of his eyes. And he smiled.
"Let's finish up. We've got a lot of places to go."
Chapter 10
She was as nervous as a teen aged girl on her first real date. Three times she changed her dress, finally settling for a white chiffon cloud of feminine appeal. She experienced with hairstyles for an hour, too, before she gave up and decided to leave her hair loose. All she could think about was that look in Cal's shimmering eyes today, it held the promise of something wild and dangerous.
She jumped when she heard the knock at the door, and ran to answer it. Cal was there in black evening clothes, unbearably handsome, smelling of expensive cologne. He was so good looking at that she couldn't tear her eyes away.
"I like you in white," he said quietly, his eyes sweeping over her gently.
"There was a time when you thought it should be scarlet," she laughed.
He pressed a long finger against her red mouth. "Don't you know yet," he asked in a silvery whisper, "that I'm jealous as hell of you? That I'd break a man in half for touching you if you didn't want him to?"
She gaped at him, the words reaching deep inside to clutch at her heart and shake it. "You were jealous...of Horace?"
"Murderously," he said with a quiet smile. "We'll talk about it later. Right now," he added, glancing at his watch, "we've got just thirty minutes to get to Chez Pierre before they give our table to someone else. Ready?"
She nodded, robbed of speech by an admission that made her head swim.
❧
It was a cozy little nightclub downtown with soft lights, a live band, and what passed for a dance floor. They were seated at a secluded table for two with no one close by, and Cal's eyes never left hers when they sat down.
"Have I told you," he said softly, "how very lovely you are, Miss Blainn?"
She smiled at him, her eyes bright with emotion. "I'm very glad you think so, Mr. McCallum."
He caught her hand where it lay on the table and lifted the palm to his mouth, making little jolts of electricity travel all the way down her spine.
The arrival of the waiter spared her an answer to the devilish look Cal was giving her. He ordered for both of them.
"Steak and lobster both?" she exclaimed. "But, Cal..."
"You're going to need," he said very quietly, "every ounce of strength you've got to fight me off later."
That look in his narrow eyes made her pulse accelerate. "What if I can't?" she whispered without thinking.
His hand caught hers, swallowing it, crushing it. "Dance with me," he said in a taut voice.
He drew her onto the dance floor where several other couples were wound around each other shuffling their feet to the lazy, seductive music of the band.
She lifted her hand to place it in his, but he caught both of them and lifted them up around his neck, pulling her body wholly against his.
"Like this, Madeline," he murmured, looking down into her eyes with a gaze that made her knees go limp. "Close and warm against me, " he whispered, his hands moving up to the edge of her dress which left her shoulder blades bare.
"What about the food?" she whispered shakily.
"All I want is you," he whispered back.
"Cal...!"
His face moved down so that his cheek rested against hers, his breath warm at her ear, his arms all but crushing her.
"Don't talk," he murmured. "Don't talk, honey, just let me hold you. God, it's been such a long time...!"
Her eyes closed. She relaxed and let the music and the magic wash over her like a warm wave of feeling, submerging her, drowning her in sensation.
"You're trembling," he whispered.
Her arms tightened around his neck. "I know, and I don't care," she managed in a husky whisper. "Oh, Cal, I missed you, I missed you...I thought you hated me, and I couldn't bear it!"
"I hated what I thought you'd done, not you," he replied. "I couldn't hate you. I wouldn't know how to begin." His arms relaxed just a little so that he could raise his head and look down at her. "I wanted to kill your cousin. I've never felt anything like that—never! Just thinking that he'd touched you..." He drew a deep, harsh breath. "You don't know the hell I went through. I wanted to hurt you for that, but hurting you only made it worse for me."
Involuntarily, her hand came down to his cheek, her fingers touched his face, his stubborn chin, the hard curve of his mouth.
"You...you said once that caring had a high price tag," she whispered, "that you never wanted to pay it again. It was like that with me, too. I thought I loved Phillip more than my own life, I thought...I thought I couldn't ever give anything of myself to a man again."
He pressed her fingers to his lips and kissed them gently. "And now?" he asked softly, meeting her melting gaze.
She smiled tremulously. "If you asked for everything I could give, I'd only ask when," she replied tearfully. "I'm sorry you're rich and women chase you and you hate getting involved with people and you...you have to carry a great brute of a watchdog around with you like a black wart!" Her voice broke in a sob. "But I love you Cal. I love you...."
His mouth cut her off, hard and hungry and incredibly savage, not caring where they were and how many people were watching. He kissed her as if they were both about to go down on a sinking ship. And when he tore his mouth away, she was crying.
He drew a great trembling breath and led her back to their table, where plates of food and cups of steaming coffee were waiting.
He stared at her across the table, looking as if he'd been hit in the head with a hammer. His eyes were narrow, glittering under the scowl on his black brows.
"How long, honey?" he asked softly. Her mouth trembled. She dabbed at her eyes with her napkin, wishing that she could sink down through the floor or get up and run. How could she have said such a thing to him of all people?
"I'm sorry," she whispered, her eyes downcast, agony in every line of her face as she picked up her fork. "Please, could we forget that...."
"Burgundy."
He made of her name a caress, and she looked up to see soft fires burning in those dark gray eyes as they met hers.
"Finish your dinner," he said softly. "Then we'll go home."
She nodded. Her eyes closed momentarily as she began to automatically lift bits of lobster into her mouth. Pity, she thought, he'll offer me pity and pat me on the head, and that'll be the end of it. We won't even be friends anymore. She swallowed down a lump the size of a baseball and fought more tears.It wouldn't do to cry, not now. So she concentrated on her meal, which had the taste of cardboard to her numb senses. She finished the very fine old wine in her glass with a gulp and sat quietly waiting for him to pay the check so they could leave.
There was a silence in the car so pronounced as to be almost tangible. She sat rigidly, keeping her eyes on the lights of businesses and street lamps, wishing it were already over, wishing she didn't have to face him over his desk ever again and remember....
They were pulling into her driveway. He stopped the car just behind her little economy vehicle, and she grabbed the door handle as if it were lifeline.
"Thanks for a lovely evening; I won't keep you," she said,
the words stumbling all over one another as she opened the door and got out.
She closed it behind her and ran to the back door of the house, rumbling with her key, her mind vaguely registering that he'd cut the engine and that there were heavy footsteps behind her.
Two big, warm arms went around her from behind before she could turn the doorknob. He drew her gently back against his hard-muscled body and rocked her, his cheek against her temple.
"No coffee?" he murmured with amusement in his deep voice.
"Do...do you want a cup?" she managed shakily.
His arms tightened. "We both know what I want. Let's go inside, Burgundy. I don't think I can wait any longer. I'm not getting any younger running you to ground."
With a quiet sigh, she opened the door and went in, with the big man right behind her. So it was to be now, and she was afraid. Would loving be enough, she wondered, to compensate for the back seat she'd be relegated to in his busy life?
He turned her gently, his eyes dwelling on the sad, white little face under its halo of auburn hair.
His big hands cupped her cheeks. They were warm, patient hands that were oddly comforting. "I'd be very gentle with you, don't you know that?" he whispered deeply.
Chewing on her lower lip, she nodded, feeling the fear as if it were crawling on her skin.
He smiled, and it was in his eyes, his face, in the hard lines that relaxed as he looked at her.
"This was inevitable between us, from the first," he told her. "You knew that, didn't you?"
"Yes," she replied, her hands resting on the warmth of his chest. "I knew it."
His lips brushed her forehead. "When?" he asked.
She took a deep breath. "Whenever...you want to," she said in a squeaky voice.
"It takes two days to get a license...or three," he murmured thoughtfully. "But by Friday...."
She gaped at him. "A license? A...marriage license?" she gasped.
Both dark eyebrows went up. "Woman, in my own way, I'm every bit as old-fashioned as you are," he said quietly. "I'm not taking you into my bed without a ceremony."
Tears brightened her eyes. "I thought...!"
He bent and kissed the tears away tenderly. "I know what you thought; God knows where' you got the idea that I had hot and cold running women in every room of my house. I don't want you for a night. I want you, every day, for the rest of my life." His hands tightened on her face. "I want children with you. I want to take you on trips with me, and watch sunsets with you when we're both too old to gallop all over creation...oh, God, woman, I'm trying to tell you that I love you, but maybe this is a better way...."
He lifted her up against him and found her mouth, cherished it with a tenderness and a fierce passion that made her cling, made her respond until the world faded around her and there was only Cal, always Cal, forever Cal.
He drew away finally, breathless and dark eyed, his arms trembling almost imperceptibly as he reluctantly put her from him. "Make some coffee," he said.
She drew a shaky breath and smiled up at him. "Anything you say, Mr. McCallum. I baked an apple pie this morning...?"
"Need you ask?" he grinned.
She dodged Cabbage and started the coffee, glancing at Cal over her shoulder as he perched himself on a stool.
"Cal, what about Cabbage and Suleiman?" she asked with concern in her voice.
"They'll learn to love each other," he assured her, reaching down to pet Cabbage. "Will you move in with me?"
She smiled. "I'd like that. Then Cousin Horace can have this house after all." She gazed at him with everything she felt in her eyes. "Cal, are you sure?" she asked softly.
He returned the smile with a promise of loving in his eyes that made her heart leap. "What do you think?" he asked deeply.
Blushing, she turned to slice the apple pie. "I think living with you is going to be the biggest adventure of all."
He came up behind her and pulled her into his arms. "You'd better believe it, lady." And he bent to kiss her lazily, slowly, as the coffee began to perk.
On the floor, Cabbage took one look at the humans and curled up under the breakfast bar to sleep.
