Confrontation

by Sarah Holland

  'You have a choice, Mark! You don't have to let your body --'

  'How the hell would you know?' he drawled. 'You don't have the same kind of body.'

  Scarlet colour invaded her cheeks. 'Oh...!'

  He gave a sardonic laugh, studying her mouth and murmuring, 'What did you think I was trying to tell you? That I had an overpowering urge to bring you flowers and read you love poems? I have an overpowering urge, all right, but it's not located in --'

  'Yes, all right,' she said hoarsely, face scarlet. 'I—I do see.'

  He bent his dark head, kissing her mouth. 'I want to make love to you, Caroline.'

  'I know...' she whispered, closing her eyes as desire swept through her blood like liquid fire. 'Oh, God... don't kiss me. You'll make it worse for us both.'

  He drew in his breath, his strong hands moving to her waist. 'If you were any other woman, this wouldn't be such hell,' he said thickly, his mouth burning tormentingly, slowly against hers. 'But you're Caroline Shaw, and I've had a thing about you for months.'

  She gave a shaky laugh, her hands moving to his dark hair. 'You'd want to make love to me in these circumstances—whoever I was.'

  'I might try,' he drawled lazily, arching black brows. 'But I wouldn't be bothered enough to keep pushing like this.'

  'You're a bastard where women are concerned,' she said tensely. 'I should know—I've worked for you for eight months and seen you in action!'

  His eyes narrowed. 'Is that why you keep giving me the hands-off treatment?'

  'Of course it is!' she said angrily. 'I want a man I can marry—someone like Stephen. A man who-—'

  'Oh, for God's sake!' he snapped, eyes suddenly blazing and his hands tightening painfully on her waist. 'If you say "marry" one more time I'll --'

  'Well, what's wrong with it?' she said fiercely. 'You stand here and tell me I should understand how you feel because your --' Her face flamed. 'Because your body makes life uncomfortable for you when you're severely aroused, yet you refuse to even consider my feelings about love and marriage!'

  'Love isn't a part of marriage and never has been!'

  'It's not a part of casual sex, either!'

  His teeth met. 'By the time I get you into bed, Caroline, it's not going to feel remotely casual!'

  'You'll never get me into bed!' she said fiercely. 'And you'd save us both a great deal of trouble if you just stopped trying, Mark, because I don't want it to happen and I --'

  'Is that so?' he said softly, and suddenly jerked her hard against his body.

  She gave a smothered gasp of excitement, her heart beating with abrupt violence at the sudden contact with his hard thighs, powerful chest, her hands shaking on his shoulders as she stared up into his handsome face and her mouth went dry with longing.

  'Well, come on—what are you waiting for?' he said thickly, his eyes glittering in his angry face. 'Push me away... tell me not to kiss you...'

  She just stared at his mouth, unable to speak.

  'You can't do it, can you?' he said under his breath. 'When we're this close your body takes over. Doesn't it, Caroline?'

  Her eyes closed briefly and her dry mouth said in tortured honesty, 'Yes!' and as she opened her eyes the expression she saw on his face made her give a silent moan, and a second later his mouth was meeting hers.

  The kiss was so unbearably sensual that she was lost in seconds, her mouth opening beneath his in dizzying response, and his hands stroked her hair as the kiss deepened, sending her spinning into absolute desire, her hands moving shakily to his strong neck, running slowly over the warm skin, into his black hair.

  The thud of his heart and the slow tenderness of his hands sent her into delirium, moaning softly as she felt him slide them up to cup her breasts, and as he stroked her erect nipples she kissed him back with slow, hot urgency, her heart slamming until her whole body shook with desire.

  Suddenly, she was struggling out of that intoxicating embrace. 'Don't...!'

  He drew a ragged breath, lifting his head. 'Caroline, you need this,' he said urgently, holding her with possessive hands. 'You're going crazy with frustration. Let me ease it... let me make love to you...'

  Rage and sudden pain shot through her and she cried bitterly, 'Don't ever use that phrase again, Mark! Not ever, do you understand me? You don't mean a damned word of it, and you never will!' Tears suddenly burnt the back of her eyes for no accountable reason and her voice grew hoarse. 'You're a phoney bastard! You treat women abominably and justify it to yourself on the grounds that you're a man and therefore entitled to have sex with any woman you fancy on whatever terms you're prepared to give!'

  'I don't!' he bit out thickly, but his face ran with dark colour.

  'Oh, yes, you do! And you've been doing it all your life because the women you've met have been too much in love with you to deny your selfish and hurtful requests! You don't care about anything but yourself,' she said hoarsely. 'And I do. I care about a lot of things, Mark. I don't want an empty life with no love and no one to turn to when I'm old. And that's what you're offering me.' Her eyes were stinging with tears. 'Isn't it, Mark? You're offering me loneliness and regret and self-hatred.'

  'No,' he said slowly, staring, but there was shock in his ayes.

  'It is, Mark,' she said thickly, and pushed him away from her, her mouth trembling as the tears threatened to spill. 'Whereas Stephen is offering me love, friendship, support, commitment, loyalty and a future that contains children.'

  Mark let her go, but followed her with angry eyes and said harshly, 'But you don't want to make love with him!'

  She stopped and looked back at him, her face tight with anger. 'Don't I, Mark?' she asked softly. 'What makes you think that?'

  His face tightened. 'Your response when --'

  'Well, if you can fancy more than one woman at a time,' she said under her breath, 'I can fancy more than one man. Don't you think?'

  He sucked in his breath, eyes furious. 'I don't believe it!'

  'That,' she said through tight lips, 'is not my problem.' Giving him a slow, anger-fuelled smile, she went out of the kitchen, closing the door behind her.

  She went into the living-room and sat down, trembling with anger. That had told him! Well—why should she admit that Stephen's kisses incited nothing more than warmth and affection?

  Half an hour later, Mark came into the room, glowering at her. 'I'm going to have a glass of whisky and then go to bed,' he said tightly, striding across to the drinks cabinet. 'Do you want anything to drink?'

  Caroline watched him through her lashes. 'Hot chocolate?'

  'Forget it,' he snapped, unscrewing the whisky bottle. 'I'm not some damned domesticated little wimp.'

  'You're not very friendly, either,' she said with a suppressed smile.

  His mouth tightened. 'I'll pour you a glass of whisky, but I'm not making you hot chocolate.'

  'No, I'm sure it would be far too demanding for your male ego.'

  'Damn right.' He raised the whisky glass to his hard mouth.

  Caroline slid off the couch with a sigh. 'I'll have to go and make it myself, then, won't I?'

  His eyes narrowed as he watched her pad across the room. 'Don't try to make me feel guilty, because it won't work.'

  'Who's trying to make you feel guilty?' she asked coolly, looking back over one slender shoulder, her gold-brown hair sliding in silky disarray across one green eye.

  'I'm sure the plastics man would have leapt to the saucepan,' he drawled disparagingly. 'I bet he would even have cooked the dinner.'

  'But that's what I like about Stephen,' she said softly, 'he's so thoughtful and unselfish.' Going out of the room, she smiled at the memory of his furious face as she went into the kitchen and made herself a cup of hot chocolate with boiling water as there was no milk.

  When she went back into the living-room, Mark was drinking another small measure of whisky. 'I notice the snow is still falling,' she said. 'Until it stops, we don't stand a chance of rescue.'

  'The
sooner we get out of this bloody place the better,' he said, his voice hard.

  They sat in unfriendly silence for a long time. When Caroline had finished her hot chocolate, she said, 'I'll go upstairs and make the beds. I'm sure putting sheets on a bed would be beneath your male dignity, too.'

  His eyes narrowed. 'I'm quite capable of any domestic chore you can come up with. I just prefer to pay other people to do them.'

  'I'm afraid there aren't any professional cleaners in the house with us,' she said sarcastically. 'So we'll just have to share the work.'

  'God, you're such a bitch!' he said disagreeably, and drank some whisky.

  'And you, Mark, are a total pig.'

  He slammed the whisky down. 'Look! I just don't like being in a situation where --'

  'You feel married,' she murmured, walking to the door with a lit candle. 'Yes, I quite understand, Mark.'

  She went upstairs. It was icy cold, and her breath froze in front of her. Walking into the front bedroom, she glanced around, satisfied at the small double bed with' thick duvet and the fireplace with coal and logs beside it. Then she went into the back bedroom, and froze with horror. It wasn't a bedroom at all. It was something of a junk shop, with objects piled high in messy clutter.

  Panic hit her. She went back into the front bedroom, staring around. Then she heard his footsteps on the stairs. Breathless, she turned, her face pale against the candle flame as she stared at the doorway of the bedroom and watched him walk in.

  'Which room is mine?' Mark asked flatly. 'I'll make my own bed.'

  She swallowed. 'There's only one bed and one duvet, Mark.'

  A muscle jerked in his cheek. Silent, he turned on his heel and walked into the other bedroom, and there was a tense silence, then he returned, his eyes very dark.

  'I'll sleep downstairs on the couch,' he said tautly. 'Under both our coats. The fire will keep me from freezing to death.'

  'No, it won't,' she said huskily. 'Look at the air in here...' She breathed, her breath misting icily in front of her. 'The fire will go out while you're asleep. You might die of cold in the night.'

  He raked a hand through his hair. 'You're right.'

  There was a brief silence, and her heart was banging so hard she felt sure he must hear it.

  'We can keep our clothes on,' Caroline suggested.

  He looked at her, his eyes dangerous. 'I think that's advisable!'

  Her heart slammed harder. 'Well...' Her voice was shaking. 'We'd better light the fire, hadn't we?'

  'I'll do it,' he said tightly, moving into the room. 'You get into bed and try to fall asleep as fast as possible.'

  She watched him, ravishing by candlelight.

  'Get into bed, Caroline!' he said flatly.

  She moved to the bed at once, putting the candle on the night table and sliding in between that icy duvet and the icy sheet.

  Mark worked on the fire for a long time, putting coal and logs in the grate, lighting the small white firelighter in the centre, and waiting in tense silence for the blaze to start attacking the fuel.

  Caroline tried desperately to fall asleep, but of course she couldn't and when Mark finally came to bed half an hour later she was lying there, her heart drumming and her mouth as dry as ashes.

  He slid in beside her, and their bodies brushed. Keeping her eyes tightly shut, she feigned sleep, but her breathing betrayed her, erratic and unsteady as that loud banging heart shook her body.

  'I know you're awake, Caroline.'

  'Pretend I'm asleep,' she whispered hoarsely.

  He could feel her heart slamming. 'Open your eyes, Caroline!' he said thickly.

  With intense dread, she opened her eyes, and there he was, his dark head on the pillow beside her, and as she looked into his hard face she felt as though they had been moving towards this moment forever.

  'Put your arms around me.' He was breathing hard, his eyes silver, and she stared at him, her face pale.

  'Mark...'

  'We have to sleep close or we'll die,' he said harshly. 'Now just do it, will you?'

  Breathing erratically, Caroline slid against his hard body. Her arms went around his powerful chest. Their legs slowly twined together. Excitement was shooting through her like pure adrenalin, and she tried to lie still, not feel aroused, but her face was against his dark throat and she could taste the scent of his skin, feel the warmth of the muscles below that black cashmere sweater.

  The banging of their hearts was suddenly intolerable to her. She lifted her face to him with a hoarse moan, and heard his rough sound of answering hunger as his head swooped.

  Their mouths met with fierce need, and he was pushing her on to her back, making harsh sounds of excitement as he kissed her into the pillows, his hands moving over her body, while she melted beneath him, desire pulsating like fire through her veins…

  Her hands were in his thick black hair, her mouth open passionately beneath his, and the kiss blazed on while his strong hands moved over her breasts, stroking her erect nipples, then moving slowly, inexorably, temptingly to her slender thighs.

  'Oh, God...!' Mark breathed harshly, rapidly, and the kiss deepened as his hands began to stroke her skirt upwards to expose her long slim thighs. 'I need you!' he said thickly against her mouth. 'I want to love you... Caroline...' His hands moved slowly, sensually over her slim thighs. 'We're in bed together, my darling. Let me take you...'

  'Words of love, Mark,' she whispered thickly against his black hair, 'with no real emotion behind them.'

  'Of course there's emotion behind them,' he said unsteadily, his mouth moving back to meet hers, kissing her lingeringly, torturously. 'But it's not love. I'll be as honest as I have been from the beginning. I'm not in love with you and I never will be.' His grey eyes stared burningly down at her flushed face. 'But I want to make love to you so damned much...'

  'Well, you can't,' she said as pain shot through her heart and her face was tight with it, eyes dark with it. Suddenly, she found the strength to push him hard away from her. 'I don't want any part of your phoney declarations—or your horribly phoney lifestyle! If you want a mistress, you can find one elsewhere.'

  His eyes blazed fierce silver in his darkly flushed face. 'Not tonight, I bloody well can't!'

  The pain in her heart increased. 'That just shows how phoney you really are, Mark! Your declarations of driven passion are just a way to amuse yourself while you're snowbound with a woman. And if you think that's going to make me give in with sighs of ecstasy, you're in for a big surprise!' Angrily, she pushed at his broad shoulders. 'Kindly get off me, Mark. I want to go to sleep.'

  He stared down at her in furious silence for a long moment, his face darkly flushed and his mouth shaking with barely suppressed rage. 'You bitch!' he swore hoarsely.

  'Oh, that's your answer to everything, isn't it?' she snapped furiously. 'When you can't get what you want from a woman, you turn around and call her a bitch! You're like a little boy, Mark! When will you learn that you can't have everything you want?'

  Rage leapt in his eyes. He swore savagely, his hands tangling in her hair, hurting her deliberately as he tugged her head back.

  'Oh!' Tears sprang to her eyes and she said bitterly, 'That's right! Having failed with insults and seductive persuasion, you now graduate to physical violence! Very impressive, Mark! I can't wait to see your next move!'

  He stared down at her, breathing harshly, and she suddenly saw the visible effort he was making to control himself. Suddenly, he pushed her violently from him and got out of bed, saying bitingly, 'I'm going downstairs for some more whisky! I'll come back to bed when I'm damned sure you're asleep, because I sure as hell can't take much more of this frustration, even if you can!'

  The door slammed behind him, his footsteps echoing angrily down the stairs. When she heard the living-room door slam, she felt the prick of tears at the back of her eyes.

  Well, he'd certainly been honest with her! 'I'm not in love with you and I never will be.' How she hated him! Ruthless, c
ynical bastard! she thought, tugging the duvet over her shaking shoulders.

  She felt so terribly hurt, so rejected and full of hatred for him. But why should she feel that? It was absurd -- he was just her boss, just a man who wanted to get her into bed, and here she was in tears because she had once again refused him.

  But that wasn't why she felt so desperately hurt and she knew it.

  It was because of that brutal statement: 'I'm not in love with you and I never will be.' But why should that be painful to hear and to accept? After all—she wasn't in love with him either. In fact, she couldn't care less if she never saw him again after this weekend.

  Could she...?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  When Caroline woke up the next morning, she was in Mark's arms. During the night, as they both slept and the room became icy cold, they had moved together, holding each other close for warmth.

  Now her face was cradled against his powerful chest, and she could feel his heart beating steadily against her skin. His breath fanned the top of her gold-brown head. His arms were around her, their legs tangled together, the duvet warm and snug on top of them.

  Birds were singing. Caroline frowned, lifting her head. That must mean the snow had stopped!

  'Mmm...' Mark murmured drowsily as she moved, and held her closer, his mouth absently kissing the top of her head. 'Caroline...'

  She felt her heart miss a beat, and looked up at him through her lashes.

  He was still asleep, his eyes closed. If anything, the brute looked even more handsome. Those thick black lashes flickered on hard cheekbones and his black hair was tousled, softening his tough good looks with heart-stopping appeal.

  Caroline's mouth twisted in an irritated smile. He's gorgeous, she thought, hating him for being so attractive. Of course—that was another reason why he behaved like such a bastard to women. He got away with it. With those looks, what woman could resist him? Rugged face, wicked mind, sexy eyes, powerful body, impressive height—and he was wealthy too, damn him.