by Rena McKay
The kiss was gentle at first, but deepened as his mouth boldly explored hers. Tentatively at first, but with an increasing boldness of her own, her mouth explored, too.
There was no conversation. Words were superfluous, unnecessary to the way their mouths and bodies seemed meant for each other. He unfastened the top buttons of her blouse and slid the material aside to expose her shoulder, creamy-gold in the lamplight. The teasing touch of his tongue left a trail of fire across her shoulder and then dipped with practiced expertise to the curve of her breast, undaunted by the flimsy barrier of her lacy bra.
Juli's floating mind gave no heed to where all this was leading. She was simply floating down a corridor of exquisite pleasure where her senses were drowned in lush sound and sensuous caresses. The whisper of his lips in her ear didn't form words. She was only conscious of the husky sound of his voice, the feel of his warm breath on her ear. Then a certain urgency in his voice broke through.
"Let's go somewhere more comfortable—my room…" His lips teased the lobe of her ear.
"Your room?" she repeated, faint alarm seeping into the dreamy, anesthetized swirls of her mind.
"I want you with me all night," he whispered huskily. "I want to wake up in the morning and find you there in my arms."
Her mind played with the tantalizing thought, and the love she felt for him surged through her in a hot flood. Yes… yes! She wanted to lie in his arms and wake up beside him! But not just for a night—for always.
That thought hit her like a sudden drench of cold water thrown in her face. She struggled to sit up, aware of her unbuttoned blouse and disheveled hair, her sandals fallen to the floor. His shirt was unbuttoned, too, and the lamplight glinted on his bronzed chest and the dark hair slanting across his forehead.
"What's the matter?" he demanded, raising up on one elbow beside her.
What was the matter? she thought dizzily. She wanted love and he offered sex. She wanted a lifetime and he offered a night. She wanted his heart—but all that could come of this was her own heartbreak. And yet another part of her fiercely demanded that she throw cautious reason to the wind and take the temporary ecstasy he offered, however brief it might be. Recklessly, she was ready to give in to that demand when another shocking thought stabbed her. Had Thorne deliberately not fixed the water this evening in order to maneuver her into this very position? Had he deliberately calculated and cold-bloodedly planned to seduce her for a night's pleasure and then go back to the arms of his true love, Nicole?
"What's the matter?" he repeated, more roughly this time.
"I don't know…" Her voice was tremulous. "I'm not sure. I feel so confused…"
"Confused? About what?" he demanded. "You want me as much as I want you. I know you do."
It was true. Her body almost ached with wanting him. But the trouble was, she wanted so much more than he did.
"I don't get this," he said, his voice tight with anger now. "You lead me on until I'm half-crazy with wanting you, and then you go all coy and tearful—"
"I led you on!" Juli gasped. "After you… you practically attacked me in the pool and fed me champagne and—"
"Oh, come on now," he scoffed harshly. "I haven't done a single thing you weren't already willing and eager to do. And don't tell me staying the night wasn't a part of your clever little scheme."
He sat up and started buttoning his shirt. One of the buttons tangled in the material and he yanked at it so savagely the material ripped and the button flew across the room. Juli was still almost in shock, still trying to understand his angry words, and her own feelings were as yet unformed into anger.
"What do you mean by that?" she gasped in bewilderment.
"That phony business about the water," he said contemptuously. "Do you think I'm so damned stupid I couldn't figure out that you'd flipped off the switch to the pump at the electrical box? Oh, yes, you had it all figured out before we ever left the trailer this morning. I thought you were so sweet and innocent, unlike most of the women I know, but instead you're just another cheap, conniving little schemer. And then when I respond just the way you plan, you suddenly get cold feet and go all coy and scared. You might at least be woman enough to go through with it!"
Juli felt totally bewildered, shriveled by the hot blast of his angry tirade. His face was dark with fury, the gray-green eyes brilliantly dangerous. She had the panicky feeling that in this frame of mind he was capable of doing anything. She was aware that they were alone and she was helpless against his superior strength and fury. What had happened to that warm, companionable nature she had found in him today? Was that human, accessible side of him only a pretense that disappeared whenever he met opposition? Or perhaps it was even less than that, she thought unhappily. Perhaps it had never even existed outside her own naive, hopeful imagination.
But she still couldn't really comprehend what he was accusing her of. "You think I tried… I deliberately planned to seduce you? That I deliberately did something to the pump so you would have to invite me over here?" She shook her head at the incredulousness of this idea. "Even if I wanted to arrange such a thing, I wouldn't have the slightest idea how to—"
Juli broke off suddenly, her mouth forming an O of surprised remembrance. Though not with the deliberate intent he suggested, she evidently had turned the pump off. Last night when she was at the electrical box with the flashlight, she had flipped several switches back and forth, trying to make the lights come back on. She must have turned off the switch to the pump and then, when the lights blinked on, not switched it back to the proper position.
But to have Thorne think she had done such a thing with the deliberate intent of seducing him and spending the night with him—! Of all the colossal, egotistical, incredible nerve! Juli's shock and incredulousness suddenly lumped into cold fury. She stood up and furiously stuffed the tail of her blouse into the waist of her pants.
"What are you doing?" he asked, eyes narrowed.
"I think it's obvious that I'm dressing," she snapped. She fumbled the buttons of her blouse through the buttonholes.
His hand shot out and caught the silky material at her throat, both of them aware that with one jerk he could rip the blouse open to her waist. "Little girls who tease sometimes find they have to pay off," he said with dangerous softness.
She held her back rigid. "I'm going home now," she stated defiantly.
"Oh, no, you're not." His voice was grim. "You schemed and planned to spend the night in my bed. And that is exactly what you're going to do."
Chapter Eight
Thorne locked his powerful grip around her arm and shoved her roughly down the hallway. He hardly looked at her, yanking her along like some animal on the end of a leash when she balked.
"You can't do this!" Juli stormed, furious at him and angry with herself, too, because the protest came out squeaky instead of commanding.
He paused beside a closed door. "Can't I?" he taunted.
Juli tried to pull away, but there was no escaping the iron grip on her arm, cruel and impersonal as a shackle. "I… I'll scream!"
He lifted an eyebrow and waited for her to make good on the threat. Juli swallowed convulsively, knowing that even if she tried to scream, little sound would come from her dry throat. And what good would it do? Would Estelle come running to the rescue? Hardly. Her blouse had come unbuttoned again and she clutched at it with her free hand.
With another contemptuous glance at her, Thorne shoved the door open and flipped a light switch that turned on a lamp by the bed. Even in her state of shock, Juli was aware of a rugged elegance about the room that reflected Thorne's personality. The bedroom was thoroughly masculine, yet at the same time luxurious, with a king-sized bed covered with a spread in a bold Aztec design, paneled walls, corner fireplace, lush gold-brown carpeting, and mirrored closets. She caught a glimpse of her own disheveled reflection, eyes wide and dark, skin pale. Next to Thorne's tall, powerful figure, she looked almost fragile and helplessly at his mercy. She dragged her fe
et as he yanked her toward the enormous bed, and with a growl of impatience he swept her up in his arms and threw her across the bed.
She lay there for a moment, frozen with panic, then scrambled to the far side of the bed. She grabbed the only weapon she could reach, a downy pillow, realizing how foolish and flimsy a defense it was, and yet facing him defiantly with it.
Thorne stood there looking down at her, hands clenching and unclenching, as if he fought with something within himself. His chiseled lips had a twist of contempt, but desire still gleamed in his eyes, dark as a stormy green sea.
Juli huddled on the bed, not knowing if she was more afraid of his contempt or his desire. In this mood he seemed capable of anything, an untamed savage driven more by angry desire than reason. She didn't try to escape from the bed. He was between her and the door. Slowly she pulled herself up on the bed, her eyes never leaving his, until her back was against the headboard.
He took a menacing step toward her. "I ought to—" he growled. He broke off, lips compressed. Then his voice went hard and flat. "I turned on the switch to the pump at the trailer. I think you'll find your water problems solved when you return."
With that he spun on his heel and slammed the door as he stalked out. Juli lay there a moment, too astonished to move, then leaped to her feet and darted to the door. With trembling fingers she turned the lock on the knob, though that hardly seemed necessary with the sound of his angry footsteps thudding down the hallway.
Juli leaned weakly against the door. Had he changed his mind at the last minute about forcing her to submit to his will? Or had it all been a bluff? Whatever the reason, relief flooded over her as she massaged her arm, numbed by his tight grip.
But as the feeling came back into Juli's arm, angry outrage replaced that first instinctive surge of relief. How dare he throw her in this room like some sort of harem prisoner? This was twentieth-century Arizona, not some medieval kingdom in which women were treated like chattel! Well, he needn't think he was going to get away with this, she thought furiously, because she was not about to spend the night in this bedroom, no matter how luxurious it might be. She would simply—
Her thoughts broke off and she slowly dropped to the edge of the huge bed. She would simply what? Walk home across the ridge in the dark? She would be a pincushion before she got halfway to the trailer.
She would simply call a cab! That seemed a reasonable solution, and her glance darted around the room searching for a phone. There was none. Thorne, she thought wryly, was obviously not the type of man who wanted to be interrupted in bed by the ringing of a phone. So she would find a phone somewhere else. She had her hand on the doorknob before she paused with second thoughts. There were undoubtedly phones at various locations in the house, but she would first have to find one. What if she ran into Thorne again? That thought sent a shiver up her spine. He had, for now at least, evidently decided to leave her alone, but if she roused his anger further…
And then another dismaying thought struck her.
Thorne's thorough mind had undoubtedly already considered the thought that she might call a cab, and by now he had surely closed the exterior gates to the estate so a cab couldn't even get to the house.
So it appeared, she decided reluctantly, that she was stuck here for the night. She took another, longer look around the room, grudgingly admiring the earthy colors and lush materials. She walked over to glance into the bathroom. Sage-green towels hung neatly on the racks, and the dressing table held an assortment of masculine toiletry items. Boldly, she inspected the closets, too, half-expecting to find one full of Nicole's clothes, but there were only Thorne's well-cut business suits and other more casual attire.
Then she stood in the center of the dimly lit room wondering what to do next. She debated about going back to the den for her purse, but decided against it because of the risk of encountering Thorne again. She would pick it up in the morning, along with her bathing suit and other clothes out in the bathhouse. On reflection, however, she was not sure she ever wanted to see that bathing suit again, much less wear it, because she knew it would always remind her of this humiliating evening.
She took a brief, stinging shower and slid naked between sheets that felt cool and silky to her bare skin. She was determined that at first break of dawn, as soon as there was light enough to make her way safely across the ridge, she would be up and gone.
But sleep would not come. Partly it was because she was still suspicious of Thorne's intentions, doubtful that even a locked door would keep him out if he made up his mind he wanted back into the bedroom. Partly it was because of the unfamiliar feel of the silky sheets against her naked skin. Back home, on hot nights, she occasionally slept without a nightgown, but here the lack made her feel uncomfortably vulnerable. The contemptuous curl of Thorn's lips said he had no desire to touch her, but the look in his eyes had contradicted that. Would he change his mind and return?
She propped herself up in bed with the pillows and kept a wary eye aimed in the direction of the door to the hall. Where was Thorne now? What was he doing? Her mind went back over his incredible accusation. He really believed she had deliberately tampered with the pump and schemed to spend the night here with him. She remembered her feeble attempt to deter him from going out to the pump house. That probably helped prove to him his suspicions were correct! And he also thought she had deliberately led him on here at the house and then backed out at the last minute. Of all the colossal, insufferable, egotistical nerve! Did he consider himself so irresistibly attractive that every woman he met was out to seduce and ensnare him?
And yet, with a small twinge of guilt, she remembered that she had also wondered if he had deliberately not fixed the pump so she would have to accept his invitation to come here. Was thinking that also colossal ego on her part? Oh, she felt so mixed up and confused!
It was all so unfair! He was the one who had teased and tantalized and challenged her all evening. What woman wouldn't respond to the romantic setting and the champagne and his expert lovemaking? Why should he then be contemptuous because she did respond? Perhaps his real fury came because things hadn't worked out the way he had planned, because she hadn't fallen all the way into his seductive trap.
And how dare he act so self-righteous? she thought with fresh anger. Now she recognized the struggle that had gone on within him at various times during the evening. He had been struggling with the temptation to be unfaithful to Nicole—a battle, she thought scorn-fully, that he had lost. If it hadn't been for Juli herself finally coming to her senses before—
Her thoughts broke off abruptly. She didn't want to think about what might have happened, and one part of her recognized guiltily that this was because she was at least halfway regretful that it hadn't happened.
Of course, she thought slowly, she could have told him how the pump really came to be turned off. A stiffening of her pride rejected that thought immediately. He had already decided she was some scheming little tramp, and she was not about to beg him humbly to change his mind. He probably wouldn't believe her, anyway. There was another reason for not explaining, too, she realized reluctantly. She was afraid she would break down and reveal she loved him, and she couldn't do that, not ever, after he had made plain what he really thought of her.
The unhappy fact was that no matter what had happened, she was in love with him, she thought despairingly. And that was where her anger got all mixed up with hurt and pain and shame. He had humiliated and degraded her with his cynical, scathing accusation—but she loved him, anyway.
She was exhausted both from the long hike and the emotional collision with Thorne, but she stayed awake for what seemed like hours, tossing and turning in the huge bed while thoughts and images chased back and forth through her mind. She was determined to be out of the house before Thorne even woke up in the morning, and that resolution further contributed to her restless night.
But when she finally awoke from a dead, dreamless sleep in the morning, she was instantly aware that h
er plans had already gone awry. Her watch was in her purse, but she could tell from the sunlight peeking through the drapes that the hour was not early. She hastily washed her face and dressed and then tiptoed cautiously down the hall toward the den. She jumped as a figure met her in the doorway.
"Oh, Miss Townsend, you're up!" Estelle exclaimed. "I'll have your breakfast ready in just a few minutes. Would you like to eat in the dining room, or out on the patio?"
Juli was about to decline breakfast and murmur that she was just leaving, but instead something prompted her to ask tentatively, "Has Thorne—Mr. Taylor—had breakfast yet?"
"Oh, my, yes. He left for the office over an hour ago. He took the pickup and said you were to use the Porsche when you… um… needed transportation."
Estelle was obviously practiced at being tactful, Juli thought with wry amusement. She was about to decline that offer, also, and hurry away with all possible speed, but a sudden reckless defiance stopped her. There was no need to rush now. Thorne was gone for the day. Why not enjoy her moment of luxury? "Breakfast on the patio would be lovely," she said firmly.
Juli went on into the den, no longer tiptoeing, and found her purse and sandals. She ignored the pictures on the coffee table. The sofa pillows had already been neatly straightened by the efficient Estelle. On the way back to Thorne's bedroom, Juli boldly peered into open doors. Thorne, she thought defiantly, probably expected some such uncouth behavior from a girl of her type, anyway. She saw two guest bedrooms, one with a warm peach-color scheme, the other a sunny lemon-yellow. Thorne, she realized with a small jolt, had evidently slept in the lilac-colored bedroom right next to his own bedroom, where she was sleeping. The bed covers were mussed and rumpled, as if he had slept restlessly, also. With another jolt she saw a door opening off the side of the bedroom. It couldn't be—but it was! When she yanked it open she was looking directly at Thorne's king-sized bed, still rumpled from her own restless tossings and turnings. How Thorne must have laughed at her, she thought furiously, knowing all the time there was an unlocked door between them.
