Cross My Heart

by Phyllis Halldorson

  Damn. How had he ever allowed himself to get involved with a woman almost half his age and vulnerable as a child? He had a gut feeling he could seduce her without half trying, and that knowledge was driving him crazy. She was so open and guileless about her feelings. If she'd made an effort to hide the yearning that flared in her expressive brown eyes when she looked at him, it wasn't working.

  Elyse was a walking time bomb. A passionate woman who had sublimated and denied that passion far too long. He could capture her with a touch, melt her with a kiss—and if he didn't stop it, he was going to lose every shred of control and ravage her.

  With a shuddering sigh he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He ran his hands through his hair, then buried his face in them. The problem was, he didn't want to stop. He was addicted not only to the touching and the kissing, but to the husky resonance of her voice, the fresh clean scent of her fragrance and the unconsciously seductive way she walked, like a dancer expressing herself through motion.

  She was a powerful temptation, and he wanted her worse than he'd ever wanted any woman before… except Dinah.

  And there was the nerve center of the dilemma. If Dinah ever came back to him, he wouldn't need Elyse or any other woman.

  The concert on Sunday was conducted by Carter Nice and played in Sacramento's impressive Community Theater. It was the last performance of the season, and the house was sold out. By the time Clint found a parking space in the busy downtown area surrounding the convention center, which housed the theater, the performance was about to begin.

  Their seats were in the orchestra section near the stage and Elyse was surprised to discover that Senator and Mrs. William Ogden had the ones next to them.

  "Bill, Reba, I didn't know we'd run into you here," Clint said as he shook hands with the senator and kissed Reba on the cheek. "I believe you met Elyse the other night at the college."

  Bill Ogden took Elyse's hand and Reba nodded. "Yeah, she's the one who's not your girl," she said with a wink at Elyse.

  Clint grinned. "I'm working on it," he said as the lights dimmed and Carter Nice strode onto the stage. He took his place on the podium amid appreciative applause, and Clint and Elyse settled into their thickly cushioned seats. The baton was lowered, and the opening strains of Beethoven's Eroica captured the audience.

  Clint reached for Elyse's hand and held it while the magic of the music surrounded them. She turned her head to watch him. Even in the near dark he was a commanding figure. This afternoon he'd worn a dark suit with a pink shirt and maroon-and-pink-striped tie, and he looked dashing. His black hair was cut short and curled naturally on top, and his fair complexion, unusual with raven hair, made his green eyes seem even more intense.

  Elyse had worn her new Easter dress, a softly feminine turquoise silk that had evoked a low whistle of approval from Clint, and she had to admit they made an attractive pair.

  At intermission the two couples returned to the plush lobby for champagne, and while Clint and Bill stood in line to be served, Reba looked at Elyse and raised one eyebrow. "So what are you translating for Clint this afternoon?" she asked with an impish twinkle in her blue eyes.

  Elyse grinned. "Not a darn thing. I'm just enjoying his company."

  "Good," Reba said. "Then we can forget all that nonsense about just being friends?"

  Elyse's grin receded. "Not really, Reba. Clint's very sweet and attentive, but he hasn't said his feelings go beyond that."

  "You mean he hasn't taken you to bed." It was a flat statement.

  Elyse felt the color rush to her face. "Reba!"

  The other woman frowned. "Sorry, I forgot you're little more than a child…"

  "I'm not a child," Elyse replied indignantly. "I'm twenty-four years old, and I have a four-year-old daughter."

  Reba blinked. "A daughter? Then you've been married?"

  Elyse wished she'd never brought the subject up, but now that she had she wasn't going to be evasive. "No. My fiancé died of a heart attack before I knew I was pregnant."

  "Oh, God," Reba sympathized, "that's awful. So it seems you and Clint have more in common than I thought."

  Elyse blinked in confusion. "I beg your pardon."

  Reba sighed. "He still hasn't told you about Dinah Jefferson, has he?"

  Dinah again. Elyse decided it was time she found out just who this mysterious Dinah was. "No, he hasn't," she said, "but I'd appreciate it greatly if you would."

  Before Reba could say anything, Clint and Bill returned with their drinks, and a few minutes later the lights dimmed and they made their way back to their seats.

  When the concert was over the two couples decided to go to the Ogdens' house in the exclusive Willhagen area on the eastern outskirts of Sacramento for drinks, then later they would join Clint and Elyse for dinner at The Firehouse, a gourmet restaurant in a restored nineteenth-century firehouse in Old Sacramento.

  Elyse was impressed with Reba and Bill's luxurious home and said so. "Doesn't the governor live in this area?" she asked.

  Bill, a tall, prematurely gray-haired man in his late forties, responded. "Yes, just a few blocks over. Since we no longer have an official governor's mansion, the governor and his wife bought out here when they moved to Sacramento. Talk about security! We all feel safer with the measures that have been taken to protect them." He walked to the bar in the den, which they had just entered. "Now, what's everyone drinking?"

  Elyse asked for a screwdriver, and when it and Clint's Scotch on the rocks were poured, Clint led her over to the soft leather couch that faced the fireplace and sat down beside her. Putting his arm around her, he turned her gently until her back was against his chest and his arm circled her waist.

  She loved to have him cuddle her like that, but she was uncomfortable doing it in front of the other couple and stiffened in protest. His arm tightened around her. "It's all right, honey. The Ogdens are long-time friends. They won't gossip about us."

  He looked at Bill and Reba. "Elyse has a small daughter and a sister who teaches high school in Placerville, and she doesn't want publicity."

  "Relax, Elyse, you're safe here," Reba said. "We're all aware of that particular problem." She laughed. "One time shortly after we were married Bill and I had a humdinger of a quarrel at the race track during the state fair. I'm afraid we got a little loud and I stalked off, furious with him over something I can't even remember now. Well, for the next six months we spent most of our time denying that we were getting a divorce. If it had been John and Jane Doe nobody would have paid the slightest attention, but since it was Senator and Mrs. Ogden the whole state knew about it."

  They all laughed, and Elyse leaned her head against Clint's shoulder and let herself be absorbed in his embrace.

  Outwardly he. was cool and circumspect. They were sitting so close that their thighs pressed naturally together and his hand rested on her ribs, but since his hand was large and she was small, the length of his thumb nestled beneath her breast, and all her attention seemed breathlessly focused on the two points of contact.

  If her back hadn't been snuggled against Clint's chest she wouldn't have known his heartbeat had accelerated and his breathing had become as irregular as her own. He rubbed his cheek in her mass of auburn curls and unobtrusively caressed the underside of her throbbing breast with his thumb. Yet somehow he managed to keep up a lively conversation with their hosts.

  Elyse, on the other hand, kept losing the battle to pay attention to what was being said. She was too aware of this kindly man who could so easily crumble all her carefully built defenses. The faint scent of his cologne and the light tickle of his fresh clean breath on her cheek heightened her urge to stroke the thigh that rested so tantalizingly near her own. That fabric that covered it would be soft and expensive, the flesh and muscle under it strong, hard and restless.

  The clang of discordant bells snapped her out of her reverie, and Bill and Reba looked at each other and laughed. "You get the door while I get the phone," Reba said, and t
hey both got up and left the room.

  When they were out of sight Clint's hand slid up to cover Elyse's breast for one greedy moment before he turned her to face him. "Elyse," he breathed raggedly as his mouth covered hers and his arms crushed her to him.

  Even as he devoured her she could sense his tight control and the effort it was costing him to hold back. One hand cupped her waiting breast while the other roamed lovingly over her thigh, but he made no move to pull up her skirt or reach inside her bodice.

  For a moment they strained toward each other, then with a deep groan, Clint broke off the kiss and looked at her, his eyes glazed with desire. "We—we'd better slow down," he said unsteadily, "or I'm not going to be responsible for my behavior."

  His confession only kindled the flames she was desperately trying to bank. Her arms tightened around his neck. "You don't hear me complaining, do you?" she murmured against his cheek.

  He shook his head. "I've never heard you complain about anything. You're the easiest to please woman I've ever known, and I love being with you. You make me feel so… so good, so accepted."

  She put her hands on either side of his head and examined his face. His expression was strained with suppressed passion, but his long straight nose, perfectly shaped mouth and high broad forehead were the features of a man with great strength and commitment.

  She moistened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue and felt his fingers knead the soft flesh of her buttocks. "You have the most compelling eyes," she said. "They're like… like green fire that singes with a single glance. That's what you do to me. I can't believe you've ever been rejected."

  She saw the leap of pain in the fire of those eyes before he closed his lids and buried his face in her shoulder.

  A wave of despair swept over her as she held him close. "Oh, God, Clint, I'm sorry. I forgot…"

  She had indeed forgotten until that moment his earlier confession that he had once loved a woman who'd left him.

  Was that woman Dinah Jefferson?

  Chapter Five

  "Excuse me. Would you two like to spend some time alone?" Clint and Elyse jumped as one at the sound of Bill Ogden's amused voice.

  "Hell, man, you might at least whistle or something," Clint grumbled good-naturedly as he straightened but kept a tight grip on Elyse.

  "You wouldn't have heard me if I'd set off firecrackers," Bill continued happily. "How about a cold shower? Guaranteed to cool you off—"

  He was interrupted by Reba's husky voice behind him. "Knock it off, love, or I'll see that you spend some time under that cold shower just to keep you from getting overconfident." She winked at Elyse, who by now was red with embarrassment.

  Bill chuckled as he turned and put his arm around his stunningly beautiful wife. "Ah, my darling, life with you is anything but predictable, but I think we'd better divert these two until it's time to leave for dinner. Come on out to the garage with me, Clint. I want to show you the 1957 T-Bird I added to my collection of classic cars last week."

  "Gee, thanks, pal," Clint retorted with a sarcastic grin as he reluctantly tore himself away from Elyse and stood. "Just what I was hoping you'd suggest." He leaned down and kissed her flaming face. "Excuse me while I humor this idiot."

  The two men ambled out of the room, and Reba grinned as she sat down on the couch with Elyse. "Sorry if Bill embarrassed you," she said. "He loves to tease. He's also happy to have something to tease Clint about. It's been far too long since Clint's shown enough interest in any one woman to be ragged about it." Her grin disappeared. "I hope you're serious about him, Elyse. If you're just stringing him along and intend to dump him later, I'm warning you. You'll have both Bill and me to contend with."

  The menacing look Reba shot at her convinced Elyse that the other woman would be a dangerous adversary, but the knowledge was comforting rather than upsetting. These people cared enough about Clint to want to protect him from hurt. Elyse felt the same way.

  "I'm not sure getting serious about Clint Sterling is wise," she said slowly. "He told me once he'd been in love with a woman who left him, and you've mentioned someone named Dinah several times. Are they by any chance the same person? And if so, why on earth did she walk out on him? She'll never find another man as kind and sweet and loving—"

  "You're absolutely right," Reba interrupted with a sly chuckle. "Sounds like you belong on our team. He's all that and more, and Dinah was very much aware of it. To answer your first question, yes, Dinah Jefferson is the woman he loved, but the second question takes some explaining."

  Reba reached for the drink she'd abandoned on the coffee table when she'd left to answer the phone, and sipped it. "Clint met Dinah when she went to work for one of the other senators as an administrative assistant. She, too, came from a family of politicians, only they lived back East somewhere."

  "Clint was about thirty-two at the time and had recently been appointed to the Senate to serve out the term of his father, Senator Burton Sterling, who had resigned after suffering a disabling stroke. Clint was ready to settle down with a wife to raise a family, and he fell hard for Dinah."

  Those last words rocked Elyse, even though she'd known they were coming. It was selfish, but she didn't like the idea of Clint's being deeply in love with any other woman.

  "It's no wonder," Reba continued. "She was gorgeous. One of those tall, cool blondes with a body that fulfills every man's fantasy."

  "You mean she looked a lot like you?"

  Reba grinned and saluted Elyse with her raised glass. "Flattery will get you absolutely anything," she said, "but while I never managed to achieve that look of quiet elegance, Dinah was born with it. She was a lady all the way to her fingertips, and Clint was mesmerized. He couldn't have found a woman more perfectly suited to him if he'd had her hand-tailored. She was the consummate politician's wife. In fact, that's what she'd been until her husband was killed."

  Elyse gasped. "She was married!"

  "Not at the time she met Clint. She was a widow. Her husband had been an assemblyman in—Maryland, I think it was. Anyway, he was assassinated by a redneck with a gun who didn't like the way he'd voted on a bill."

  "Oh, my God!" Elyse whispered, her horror reverberating in her tone. "How awful."

  "Yes, it was." There was no levity in Reba now. "It's a terror all wives of public figures live with, and it never gets easier. I don't know how deeply it affected Dinah—she never talked about it—but her very silence on the subject would seem to indicate unresolved emotional stress. She was wild about Clint, though. No one ever doubted that."

  "Then why did she leave him? If she loved him why didn't she marry him? I assume he asked her."

  "Oh, yes, he asked her, and she even agreed to an engagement, but a couple of months later she packed up and left." Reba sighed, and pushed her silky hair back. "I can't give you any more details because I don't know them. Clint never discusses what happened. But I do know one thing. It damn near destroyed him."

  Elyse closed her eyes as the pain rolled over her. Dear, sweet, considerate Clint. How could any woman do a thing like that to him? And why? It just didn't make sense. If Dinah loved him, how could she have wounded him so deeply?

  Elyse sighed and settled back into the soft brown leather seat of Clint's car, watching the lit overhead signs appear and disappear as the car moved swiftly along Highway 50, headed for home.

  It had been a wonderful day. Not only the concert, the company and the food, but just being with Clint had been stimulant enough to give her a natural high that promised to last indefinitely.

  And Clint wasn't immune to her, either. Although there'd been no more embracing after he and Bill had come back from the garage, the magnetism that crackled between Elyse and him made it impossible not to touch. They'd held hands in the back seat of Bill's car on the way to the restaurant, under the table during dinner and again in the car on the way back to the Ogdens' home.

  Now Clint glanced at her and murmured, "Tired?"

  "No," she said softly. "
Just happy."

  He reached over and took her hand, then lifted it to his lips. "I hope you're as happy as I am," he said as he placed tiny kisses on her tingling palm. "You, my darling, are the perfect date. Beautiful, intelligent, charming and attentive. All the nice things you say make me feel about ten feet tall."

  "I only say what I mean," she said.

  He moved her hand down to rest on his thigh, then covered it with his own. She felt his muscles tighten under her palm, and she stroked her fingers lightly over the crisp wool of his trouser leg. He tensed even more, but squeezed her hand in encouragement.

  She knew what she was inviting, and she knew she should stop, but when she made a tentative effort to slide her hand from beneath his he applied pressure to keep it there, and she couldn't refuse him. She didn't even want to. It had been so long since she'd experienced the dizzy excitement of arousal—and she'd never felt it so intensely.

  Without speaking, Clint removed his hand from hers and gently caressed her thigh. Her leg twitched as a rush of quivering sensations collided in the most intimate recesses of her womanhood. She bit her lip to stifle a gasp, but couldn't keep her fingers from digging into his powerful flesh beneath her hand.

  The car swerved slightly, and Clint groaned and removed his hand to grab the steering wheel. "I'm afraid," he said in a voice that was gravelly with frustration, "I need to keep my hands on the wheel and my attention on my driving, or I may run the car right off the road."

  Elyse bowed her head. "I'm sorry," she muttered, embarrassed, and clutched both her hands in her lap.

  "Sorry? Oh, please don't be sorry," Clint said. He reached for her hand again and once more put it on his leg. "Leave it there," he cautioned as she started to remove it. "I want you to touch me. I need your touch, Elyse. More than you can possibly know."

  Again she couldn't bring herself to disappoint him, and her hand stayed firmly where he wanted it as she brushed her cheek against his arm. She was being unwise—there was no doubt about it. But she'd learned five years ago that nothing could be counted on to last forever. Why not be happy while she could and let the future take care of itself?