by Janet Dailey
A scant few minutes later the key turned in the lock, signaling Craig's return. She studied him as he walked in, abstractly noting again his exceedingly good looks, totally unaffected by them.
“One drink coming right up,” he said cheerfully.
Suddenly she didn't know why they were going through all these motions. Television and drinks; that wasn't why they were there. And she preferred to get the whole thing over with.
“Why don't you fix it later, Craig?” Annette stood up and reached behind her neck to unfasten the halter straps of her sundress. In the back of her mind there was the thought that she'd probably welcome the drink later.
She had no awareness of his startled glance as he set the ice bucket and can of pop beside the whiskey bottle. And she didn't notice the way his avid gaze licked over her when the straps fell loose. She was too busy unzipping the back of her dress.
Almost trancelike, Craig moved toward her, unbuttoning his shirt as he walked and tugging it off. Stepping out of her pink dress, she laid it on a chair back. Under the dress she had worn a strapless bra and a lacy half-slip. Her fingers were on the elastic band of her slip when the touch of Craig's hand on her shoulder made her pause.
She turned her head to look at him, her gray eyes blank of any expression, completely lacking the passion that burned in his. There was no resistance when he took her in his arms and began smothering her lips with kisses. His hands were all over her, touching and feeling.
A jarring feeling of revulsion welled inside her as Annette submitted to his lusting embrace. She had thought she could pretend he was Josh, but she suddenly realized she couldn't. He wasn't Josh. Annette turned away from his mouth, her hands pushing at him. She needed to think.
Craig misinterpreted her action, not seeing it as opposition to his lovemaking but as a desire to expand on it. He unfastened his pants and started to unzip them, his gaze riveted on the agitated rise and fall of her breasts within the supporting cups of the strapless brassiere.
“You're beautiful, Annette,” he declared hoarsely.
It was the wrong thing to say. Those were the very words Josh had used. No matter what she had thought previously, Annette knew she couldn't go through with this. She had been a fool to think she could.
“No.” She took a step backward, repulsed by the whole idea.
Craig stopped what he was doing and reached out to catch her hand. “Hey, where are you going?” he laughed, and pulled her back. Immediately Annette started to struggle and Craig fought to hold her, suddenly confused. “What's the matter with you?"
“Let me go!” she demanded angrily.
“What are you talking about?” He roughly attempted to overpower her resistance. “This was your idea, remember?"
Chapter Ten
SOMEONE RATTLED THE MOTEL-ROOM DOOR, freezing both of them. As Annette turned her head to look at it, the door burst open with explosive force. The color drained from her face as Josh charged in. His hard features were livid with anger when he saw her in Craig's arms. But she wasn't imprisoned in them for long, because Craig was shocked into letting her go. Josh advanced on them with long purposeful strides.
“How did you know I was here?” Her voice was a thin thread.
An instant later she had her answer when Marsha ventured hesitantly into the room. Her cheeks flamed with the realization her sister had informed Josh of her intentions tonight. Humiliation welled in her throat as Annette realized what Josh must be thinking about her now.
“What's he doing here?” Craig demanded an answer from Annette.
But she wasn't given a chance to explain that she hadn't expected Josh to come. Her wrist was seized to pull her out of Craig's reach. Inadvertently Annette looked into the anger of Josh's eyes.
“I'm taking you back to the hotel.” His incensed manner indicated that he wouldn't tolerate any arguments.
“Now wait just a damned minute!” Craig bristled in protest at the way Josh was assuming the right to control whether Annette stayed or left. “She came here with me and she'll leave with me."
“Like hell she will.” Josh let go of her wrist and turned on him with a snarl.
“I know what you're probably thinking,” Craig retorted. “But she came here of her own free will. I didn't twist her arm."
“She may have come here of her own free will, but she's leaving by my will,” he stressed with little patience. “And zip your pants up before they fall down!"
Craig turned red and quickly fastened them as Marsha hurried to Annette's side. “Are you all right?” she murmured.
“How could you tell him?” she choked on this awful betrayal by her sister.
A pair of soulful blue eyes looked back at her. “I'm sorry, but I didn't know what else to do,” Marsha whispered.
“Marsha, get her purse,” Josh ordered, and grabbed the sundress off the chair to shove it into Annette's hands. “Put this on."
He stood between her and Craig, a living wall intent on keeping them apart—as if it were necessary, Annette kept her head lowered to avoid eye contact with her angry rescuer as she slipped the dress on and tied the straps behind her neck. She didn't get any further than reaching for the zipper before his hands turned her around and pushed her fingers out of the way.
“If your father doesn't take the belt to you for this dumb stunt, I will,” Josh threatened as he roughly pulled the zipper to the top.
She spun around in shock, her gaze rushing to his. “You aren't going to tell him?” Annette breathed in panic.
“Don't bet on it, sweetheart,” he replied grimly.
“But you can't!” she protested.
It was bad enough that she had been so stupid to believe she could go through with it. That shame had been doubled with Josh's appearance on the scene. But if her father were told, too, she would die of mortification. How could Josh even threaten such a thing? His challenging stance revealed he could.
“I can and I will,” he stated in no uncertain terms.
“I thought you came charging in to rescue me from a fate worse than death,” Annette choked on the accusing words, humiliated into anger. “Instead you've only come to deliver me into my father's hands for punishment. You are despicable, Joshua Lord!"
“You aren't winning any prizes, either, but you're damn well going to get what you deserve,” he warned.
“You and whose army are going to take me there?” she said, challenging his ability to carry out the threat. She turned to her sister, gathering what pride hadn't been stripped from her. “Come on, Marsha. We're catching a cab and going back to the hotel."
The instant her attention was diverted, Josh moved in. He grabbed an arm before she could draw it out of his reach, and twisted it behind her back. The sudden application of force angered her still more. It wasn't fair when he was so much stronger.
“You and Marsha are going back to the hotel with me,” Josh growled somewhere near the vicinity of her ear.
The pressure he was applying arched her backward, giving her little leverage to kick at him. It was impossible to struggle, but that was his intention. Impotency drove her nearly to tears.
“Here.” The soft rustle of paper followed Josh's voice. At first Annette thought he was talking to her. “Tell your friend at the desk this should pay for the broken lock on the door.” He was speaking to Craig, and the paper sound she'd heard was money.
She was propelled out the door. Once they were in the outer hallway of the motel, Josh untwisted her arm but retained an iron grip on her wrist. She strained and turned her arm, trying to pull free as he dragged her along.
“You let me go, Joshua Lord.” Her voice was low and trembling, near the breaking point, but he didn't deign to reply.
Behind them, Marsha was half running to keep up. It was becoming apparent that she had defected to the enemy. First Marsha had betrayed what Annette had told her in confidence by going to Josh. Now she was allowing Josh to manhandle her this way without offering a single word of support for Ann
ette's stand against him. Annette was desolated.
His car was parked in the lot. She recognized it as they approached. It was in her mind to break free when Josh released her to get in the car. There wasn't any way she was going to let him march her into her father's presence like some delinquent. But Josh knew the way her mind worked too well.
He motioned for Marsha to climb in the back seat. Without releasing his grip on her wrist, he pushed Annette into the car on the driver's side and made her slide past the wheel to the front passenger seat while climbing in behind her.
The second he let go of her, she fumbled for the door handle. “It's locked,” Josh informed her tersely, and turned the key in the ignition to start the engine.
With her escape thwarted, Annette glared at him through the stinging tears in her eyes. The thrusting angles of his profile were uncompromisingly male, showing no softness, no yielding. She had never suspected he could be so ruthless, so uncaring.
“I don't know what I ever saw in you,” she declared in a low voice made husky by the awful tightness in her throat.
Tearing his gaze from the street and its traffic, Josh shot her a look. “I don't see any halo above your head."
“You aren't really going to take me to my father. You're just trying to scare me.” Annette wanted it desperately to be the case.
“You need more than a good scare.” The hardness in his reply was ominous.
She swung her gaze to the front, staring blindly out the windshield. “I hate you.” There was an unmistakable tremor in her voice.
“Go right ahead and hate me,” Josh invited with cold unconcern. “It isn't going to make any difference."
“I must have been crazy to think I loved you,” Annette declared tautly.
“Why don't you just shut up, Annette?” Josh demanded on a harsh note, and shot her a silencing look.
The silence in the car became thick and oppressive. Sitting in the back seat, Marsha felt she was waiting for something to explode. The air was much too volatile. Her glance kept darting from one to the other, but they exchanged not a word or a look.
When they arrived at the hotel, Josh parked the car and climbed out to walk around the car and unlock the passenger door. As Annette stepped out, he clamped a hand on her arm. Again Marsha tagged behind them. She wasn't sure if Josh intended to carry out his threat to deliver Annette to their father. The doubt was erased when he led Annette directly to the suite occupied by her father and Kathleen.
At the door, Josh let go of her arm and hooked a hand around her waist to make sure she stayed by his side. Annette stood rigidly, but her flesh burned at the contact. It was too familiar, too possessive. It reminded her of things that it was better not to recall.
“You have no right to do this,” she hissed.
Josh merely looked at her, his dark eyes hard as ironwood. His curled fingers rapped on the door with firm authority. At the sound of someone stirring inside, Annette made an involuntary move to avoid this confrontation with her father, but the arm around her waist tightened. Her body was brought against the male length of his. She felt the involuntary reaction of her senses.
“Who is it?” Her father's voice requested identification before he would open the door.
“It's Josh Lord.” He raised his voice slightly. “I have your daughter with me.” He failed to mention Marsha, hovering in the background.
The door swung inward and Annette's gaze ricocheted away from any contact with her father's. She had glimpsed his frown of disapproval at the sight of the two of them together. She didn't want to contemplate his reaction when he learned why they were there.
“What is this?” he demanded. “What's going on here?"
“May we come in?” Josh requested tersely, ignoring the questions. “Your daughter has something she'd like to tell you."
With grudging acceptance, her father moved out of the door to silently admit them. Josh pushed her inside. After initially offering a stiff resistance, Annette walked farther into the room on her own accord. Both her father and Kathleen were in their robes.
“There was something you wanted to tell me,” her father prompted.
“No.” She sat down in a chair and crossed her arms, sending Josh a belligerent look. “I never said that."
“Your father has a right to know where you went tonight, Annette,” Josh stated with a narrowed look.
“You went out?” Her father shot her a look of surprise.
She stubbornly refused to answer. There was such a thing as self-incrimination. Josh walked over to her chair and bent down, resting a hand on either armrest and forcing her to meet his look.
“Either you tell him or I will,” he warned.
“It's none of his business—or yours!” she flashed, because her only protection was anger.
“All right. If that's the way you want it.” Josh straightened and turned to face her father. “Annette visited a motel tonight in the company of one of the waiters from this hotel."
“What?” Her father practically exploded. It took every ounce of her control not to visibly wince. “How do you know this?” he demanded.
“Because Marsha came and told me where Annette had gone,” Josh replied evenly.
At the mention of his younger daughter, Jordan Long turned on her with a glowering look. “You knew about this?"
Marsha had been impelled into the suite by curiosity and concern, but she hadn't really expected to be on the receiving end of her father's anger. She hesitantly returned his angry look.
“Yes, I knew,” she admitted. “Annette told me."
“Why didn't you come tell me?” There was a whiteness to the line of his jaw.
“Because...” Marsha hedged. “I was afraid you'd lose your temper and ... you and Annette would quarrel again. So I went to Josh ... to see if he would stop her."
Annette struggled against the sensation of dread as her father turned back to her. She couldn't face the angry disgust in his eyes.
“You have some explaining to do, Annette,” he stated harshly. “And you can start right now. Who is this man you were with?"
“His name is Craig,” she retorted, and pushed out of the chair, the turmoil inside becoming more than she could contain. “I don't see what all this fuss is about,” she bluffed. “Nothing happened!” Her hands sliced the air in emphasis of the assertion.
“You go to a motel room with a man and I'm not supposed to be upset about that?!” her father challenged.
“It's none of your affair what I do!” Annette retaliated, then included everyone in the room. “No one asked any of you to interfere."
Kathleen stepped forward, her hazel eyes soft with concern. “Why did you do it, Annette? Why did you go there with him?"
The gentleness of her stepmother's voice almost proved to be her undoing. It was the first real promise of sympathy she'd received.
She lowered her head in remorse, her voice becoming husky when she answered, “I thought it was what I wanted to do."
“And it turned out that it wasn't,” Kathleen guessed.
Annette started to admit it until she caught Josh watching her with his expressionless dark eyes. Her glance fell away from him.
“Josh came before anything happened,” she said tightly, and refused to clear herself.
The stubborn streak in Annette wouldn't allow her to confess that she had changed her mind before he arrived. He might interpret it to mean that he was the only one she wanted to make love to her. She didn't want him to know she'd got cold feet at the last minute. She wanted him to feel partially to blame for rejecting her.
“Thank God for that,” her father muttered, but he was partially interrupted by a knock at the door. Swearing under his breath, he strode across the room to answer it.
A respite was the last thing Annette wanted. Her legs were shaking and she felt sick. She wanted to crawl off in some corner and die. Returning to the chair, she sank onto its support as her father opened the door.
“Mr. L
ong?” The male voice that traveled into the suite lifted her head. Her first thought was that it was impossible; it couldn't be Craig.
“Yes,” her father replied abruptly.
“I'm Craig Fulton,” he identified himself, then went quickly on to why he was there. “I was with your daughter tonight. I knocked on her door to make sure she got back all right, but nobody answered. I wondered if—"
“You are the one she was with?” her father demanded.
“Yes, sir,” Craig's voice admitted. “Is she here?"
“Yes.” It was a terse answer, thick with anger.
“May I come in, sir?” he requested. “I'd like to explain what happened."
“By all means.” The agreement was almost a challenge as her father swung the door wide to admit him.
A sinking feeling went through Annette. She had no idea what Craig had to explain. All the facts damned her. She realized that he was obviously intent on clearing himself, probably so he wouldn't lose his job at the hotel. Her glance went to Josh. He was watching her instead of the activity at the door. She looked just as quickly away, fully aware of his low opinion of her.
“Are you all right, Annette?” Craig asked, as if he were concerned about her welfare.
When she looked at him she saw the nervousness beneath his handsome features. Whatever flaws Craig might have, lack of courage wasn't one of them. Except Annette wasn't sure whether he was being brave or stupid coming here like this.
“I'm fine.” Her answer was a little clipped. “What are you doing here?” Couldn't he see she was in enough trouble?
“I wanted to be sure you got back okay,” he said, repeating the explanation he'd given her father at the door. His glance slid to Josh. The line of his mouth continued to remain grim and his alert gaze missed nothing.
“You were going to explain about tonight, Mr. Fulton,” her father reminded Craig of his statement in a challenging tone.
“Yes, sir,” Craig reaffirmed, angling his stand to face both Annette and her father. His attitude was very respectful, his posture erect. “I know how it probably must seem, Annette and I alone in a motel room, but we just wanted privacy to talk over some things."
