Eye of the Tiger

by Diana Palmer

  Chapter Seven

  “Well , well, look who’s visiting.” Wade chuckled as he pulled up in front of Eleanor’s door late that afternoon.

  Eleanor glanced at the red Porsche, a sinking feeling in her stomach. “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she grumbled.

  “And he wasn’t interested, I believe you said?” he teased. “Funny, I’d call this hot pursuit, myself.”

  “Care to come in and have coffee?” she asked hopefully.

  “I’d love to—” he sighed “—but my dad is flying in from Greece. I have to meet him at the airport at five, which it almost is now. I’m sorry he didn’t get to meet you. We hoped he’d make it home in time for the party.”

  “Some other time,” she replied, and grimaced. “I don’t want to go in there,” she moaned.

  “Chin up, girl,” he said. “Remember—he’s the victim this time, not you. Now get in there and tell him what a wonderful person I am, and how much you love my family, and how close I came to proposing! Lay it on thick. Spread it like butter.”

  She studied him. “Ever think of coaching a professional football team?” she asked.

  “I sure have, but I’ll settle for you right now. Come here, I see the curtains fluttering,” he murmured with a grin. He pulled her close and kissed her warmly, smiling against her lips. “Nice.” He laughed. “Like eating cotton candy. Now get in there and give him a taste of his own medicine.”

  “Yes, sir.” She kissed him back, lightly, and got out of the car. “Do I look disheveled enough?”

  “You look delicious,” he said wistfully. “Oh, well, I’ll go back to my cinders and ashes.”

  “Have you ever thought about having a glass boot made?” she asked. “You could give a party, and drop it….”

  “I am leaving,” he returned with mock indignation.

  “A few white mice and a pumpkin might be a good idea, too,” she added as he put the car in gear.

  “I’ll show you white mice and pumpkins, just wait,” he threatened. He held up his hand. “Call you tomorrow.”

  “Good night. Thanks for inviting me, I enjoyed it.”

  “Me, too, honey. Bye!”

  She watched him drive away, feeling wistful. He was such a nice man. It was too bad her heart belonged to that freckled redhead waiting in her house.

  She turned, purse in hand, and went inside. Her father and Keegan were sitting in the living room, apparently just talking. Keegan was still wearing work clothes, and he looked as if he’d been out with his horses. He liked to work with the trainer occasionally, and in his younger days he’d participated in show jumping and polo. He was an expert rider.

  “Hello, dear, how was the party?” Barnett asked, smiling as his daughter came into the room.

  “Just lovely,” she said with an exaggerated sigh. “I love Wade’s mother and sister. They’re so sweet.”

  Keegan cocked his unruly red head at her. “You do mean Gladys the gladiator and Sandra the snake?” he asked.

  “Shame on you for calling them names,” she chided. “They’re terrific people.”

  Keegan leaned back against the seat. “Wade must have threatened to write his life story,” he murmured. His deep blue eyes traveled over her slender body in the becoming white-and-purple dress. “I like that,” he remarked. “The style is very becoming.”

  “Wade thought so, too,” she said with a demure smile. “I’ll get changed and start dinner, Dad.” She glanced at Keegan. “Are you staying?”

  “Are you inviting me?” he countered, his voice velvety and deep.

  “You’re the boss,” she reminded him, watching his expression change. “I can hardly order you out of a house you own, can I?”

  “Eleanor,” Barnett groaned.

  “Will you stop that?” Keegan growled.

  “Okay. You’re welcome to stay for dinner, Keegan, dear,” she said with a faint smile. “I do hope you like broccoli and liver, because that’s what I’m fixing.”

  “Darling, you know Keegan hates broccoli and liver,” Barnett protested.

  “I’m reforming,” Keegan said through clenched teeth. “I love liver and broccoli.”

  Eleanor went down the hall to her room with revenge in her heart and a smile on her lips.

  She changed into worn jeans and a loose patterned blouse that had seen better days. She didn’t bother to brush her hair or fix her makeup, and she left her shoes off. That would show Keegan Taber that she didn’t care what he thought of her appearance.

  Bypassing the living room where the men were talking, she went straight to the kitchen and busied herself with getting the meal together. Odd, she thought, how much time Keegan seemed to be spending here lately. Whatever did he and her father find to talk about?

  It only took about half an hour to get dinner ready. Eleanor called the men and poured tall glasses of iced tea for the three of them.

  Keegan was quiet at the table, very reserved. But his blue eyes followed Eleanor as she moved around the kitchen between courses, pouring more tea, bringing dessert, moving serving dishes to the sink. His intent scrutiny began to wear on her nerves after a while, and she was glad when it was over and the men returned to the living room to play chess.

  She washed the dishes, then slipped on an old pair of loafers to go walking behind the house. Their small yard overlooked the vast acreage of the farm, and from the wooden fence under the oak trees out back, she could watch silky racehorses prance around arrogantly in their paddocks. She loved to watch them move: they were so graceful, so much a part of her childhood. Like this house where she was born, where her mother and father had lived all her life. Like…Keegan.

  She was barely aware of the footsteps behind her. She didn’t turn, because she knew his steps as well as she knew her own. She didn’t have to look to know that it was Keegan.

  He came close behind her and stopped. “Why are you hiding out here?” he asked softly.

  She shrugged, folding her arms over her breasts and smiling faintly. “Was I hiding?”

  His heavy sigh was audible. He moved beside her, one hand tucked into his belt, the other holding a smoking cigarette. “It seems like it sometimes,” he said absently.

  “I thought you’d given that up.” She nodded toward the cigarette.

  He shrugged. “I keep trying.” He lifted it to his thin lips. “How did you like the garden party?”

  “It was very nice,” she said. “Lots of people and food and even a band.”

  “Gladys likes to give parties,” he said. He studied her body in the floppy ensemble. “Is that for my benefit?” he asked quietly.

  “My ensemble?” she asked innocently, spreading her arms. “Actually, I thought it might inflame your passion…Keegan!”

  He caught her with one lean arm, jerking her against the length of his hard body so quickly that she couldn’t dodge in time.

  “You inflame me all right,” he said curtly. He was so close that she could feel his breath on her lips as he bent toward her. “Shall I let you feel how much?”

  “Will you stop!” she protested. Her heart was beating out of control; he had to be able to feel it as close as he was. Her breasts were crushed against his hard chest in the rough embrace.

  “Make me believe you want me to stop, Eleanor,” he said tautly. His eyes darkened as they searched hers. Around them, the sun sprinkled dark leaf patterns on the ground and the breeze ruffled her silky hair. A horse neighed somewhere nearby. And in all that normalcy was this—Keegan holding her with his arm and his eyes, and the rough beat of his heart keeping time with her own.

  “I’m off the market—haven’t you heard?” she asked belligerently.

  “I heard,” he replied. “I just don’t believe it. Kiss me.”

  She averted her face as his descended, and his mouth followed hers. His free hand dropped the cigarette and came up to tangle in her hair and hold her face where he wanted it.

  “Now, fight….” His voice muffled against her lips as he took her
mouth with his in a kiss that made her body throb with helpless longing. He knew so well how to do this, how to awaken her deepest hungers.

  She pushed against his chest, but he only tightened his arm.

  “Don’t fight me, baby,” he whispered as he lifted his head slightly and teased her full lips. “What can I do to you here, with your father right inside the house, hmmm?”

  “I don’t want this,” she whispered brokenly.

  “Don’t you?” His fingers moved to caress her breast, then pressed it gently so that he could feel the beating of her heart. “Your heart’s going wild, little Ellie. Just like mine. Here. Feel.”

  He took her hand and slid it into the open front of his shirt, hearing her sudden intake of breath, feeling the clenching of her fingers against his flesh.

  “Here.” He spread her fingers and moved them into the thick thatch of reddish-blond hair, watching her face as he felt the slow, involuntary movements of her long fingers. His heart ached with its hard beating. She aroused him as no other woman ever had.

  “Ellie,” he breathed. He brushed his mouth over her forehead, trying to catch his breath while her hands made him shudder. She didn’t quite know what to do, he realized, but even that hesitant touching made his knees weak.

  After a moment she put both hands against his chest. The weakness was growing: she could hardly stand up, and she wanted very much to move her legs closer to his. But she knew what would happen if she did, and despite her doubts and suspicion, she didn’t want to hurt him.

  He felt so solid and muscular, his skin cool under her searching hands, the thick growth of hair tangling in her fingers. She remembered much too well how that hair had felt against her bare breasts the night he’d made love to her. The memories were so intimate that she could hardly bear them. Even now, his heart was shaking him with its beat, and she remembered that it had been like that the night he’d taken her out.

  “Keegan…” She began to protest.

  “Shhh,” he whispered. His mouth moved tenderly across her eyebrows, her closed eyelids. “Don’t think. Touch me some more.”

  He guided her hands down to his rib cage, his flat stomach. He shuddered a little as her hands caressed him there. But she hesitated as he tried to move them lower, until he put his mouth over hers again and probed delicately with his tongue.

  “It’s all right,” he whispered. “It’s all right, baby, don’t be embarrassed….”

  She let him move her hands again, and he shuddered, moaning as she touched him. Immediately she drew back, shocked at her own boldness, at his groan.

  “I can’t!” she exclaimed.

  “All right,” he murmured. He drew her completely into his arms and wrapped her up against him, letting her keep a discreet distance from his legs as he rocked her in his warm embrace. “You’re still very innocent in some ways, little one. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I like you just the way you are.”

  “You mustn’t do things like that,” she said firmly. Her voice was trembling, which robbed the little speech of its force.

  “Aren’t you curious about my body?” he asked quietly. “I am about yours.”

  “You already know all there is to know,” she said tautly.

  “No. I know a little.” He lifted his head and searched her shy, soft eyes. “I’d like to know you in passion, Ellie. I’d like to see you the way you saw me that night, burning up with fulfillment.”

  Her face colored and she tried to tear out of his arms, but still he held her.

  “I cheated you that night,” he said, searching her face. “I want to make it up to you.”

  “I won’t sleep with you again,” she said shortly.

  His eyes were calculating, watchful. He framed her face in his lean hands and made her look into his eyes. “I want to make love to you. That isn’t the same thing as sex.”

  “It is with you,” she burst out. “You just want to get me under your thumb again, Keegan Taber. You don’t really want me, you just don’t want Wade to have me. You see, I know you now,” she continued coldly. “I know how your mind works. And what you have to offer me, I don’t want, is that clear enough? Now let me go!”

  The fear was still there, behind the harsh words. He saw it, and hated it. He let her go because this wasn’t accomplishing anything.

  “I have work to do,” she muttered, embarrassed. She turned and walked away. Later, she knew, she was going to be very angry with herself for this show of weakness. She could hardly bear the thought of having let him see it again. Why couldn’t she fight him off? Didn’t she have a single instinct for survival left in her body? She wondered if she was ever going to rid herself of the hopeless attraction she felt for him.

  “Why won’t you listen to me?” he called gruffly. “You always assume you know exactly what I’m feeling, what I want. But I can’t begin to explain it to you, because you won’t hear what I’m saying!”

  She turned to glare at him. “If I listen, I’ll just wind up in the same shape I was in four years ago,” she replied. “I’m not stupid anymore, Keegan.”

  “No,” he agreed, “just deaf and blind.” Frustrated, he stuck his hands in his belt and drew in a deep, slow breath. “Well, you may be stubborn, honey, but so am I. And despite all those fine words about how you feel and how you don’t feel, all I have to do is touch you and watch you melt.”

  Her face colored, but she didn’t look away. “You have that effect on other women, I’m sure.”

  “I don’t care how I affect other women. Only you.” He let his eyes run over her slowly, absorbed. “Suppose we go off someplace alone and talk for a few hours? I’ll tell you exactly how I feel.”

  Showing her exactly how he felt was more likely, and she knew it. She managed a smile, then shrugged. “Sorry, boss man. I have a great instinct for self-preservation. You just stand back and watch me exercise it!” She cast him a defiant glare, then turned and stormed back toward the house.

  Watching her, Keegan felt as if the world had swallowed him up. It was always like this. He could only get close by forcing her to yield, and he disliked the tactic. But she didn’t trust him. Perhaps she never would again, and he had only himself to blame. If only he could tell her how he regretted that night four years ago, how he’d cursed his own behavior. Lorraine had left a bitter taste in his mouth, all because of Eleanor, because she’d bewitched him with her innocent body and her ardent eagerness to do whatever he wanted of her.

  Eleanor had loved him. That hurt most of all, that he’d been so careless of her young emotions and so callously indifferent to her feelings for him. Now he’d give anything to have her throw herself at him and whisper that she loved him. And now she never would. He’d robbed her of self-respect, of confidence. He’d paid for it in double measure, but he couldn’t tell her that because she didn’t care anymore. She was crazy about Wade, emotionally at least, and the pain of that knowledge cut deep inside him. All he could do was watch and hope that Wade didn’t put a ring on her finger before he could win her back. If he could win her back.

  He, who had always been bristling with confidence, suddenly had none. All he could do was play a waiting game. And even then, it might be too late.

  He sighed and followed her into the house. Well, she still wanted him. That was something. And he hadn’t expected her to capitulate without a fight. She had to save her pride; after all, she couldn’t make it too easy for him. He smiled ruefully. He was just going to have to think up some way to cut Wade Granger out.

  Blissfully unaware of the train of his thoughts, Eleanor stomped back into the kitchen and slammed dishes around angrily.

  He came in behind her, closing the door gently.

  She glared at him. “Don’t you have something to do?”

  “I’m going to play your father another game of chess in a few minutes,” he said. “He’s on the phone right now with old man Jenkins.”

  “Oh.” So that was why she wasn’t being deprived of Keegan’s company.


  “Why won’t you come out with me?” he asked unexpectedly.

  “You know very well why.”

  He pulled out a kitchen chair and straddled it, then lit another cigarette. “We talked last Sunday,” he reminded her. “Really talked, I mean. I liked that.”

  She had, also, but being alone with him, talking and growing close, was too risky. She’d just had proof of her own vulnerability.

  “You still want me, Ellie,” he observed quietly. “Yes, I know, you don’t like having me know that,” he added when she jerked around to deny it. “But it’s true. And I feel the same way.”

  “I won’t have an affair with you,” she said, turning to stare at him with dark eyes. She seemed to be making a life’s work of telling this to men, she thought with a flash of humor.

  “I’m glad. An affair isn’t what I want,” he replied.

  “You’re more in the mood for a one-night stand, I gather?” she asked, smiling coolly.

  “If you want the truth…”

  But before he could continue, her father ambled into the room, grinning from ear to ear.

  “Old man Jenkins is finally willing to sell me that bench press I wanted for my woodworking shop,” he said gleefully. “He’s decided that his arthritis is just too bad to do that kind of work anymore. Now I can throw out that piece of junk I’m using and do some decent work.”

  “When can you pick it up? I’ll drive you over,” Keegan offered.

  “You wouldn’t mind?” asked Barnett. “Then can we go now, before the old goat changes his mind?”

  “What a way to talk about your best friend,” Eleanor chided.

  He grinned at her. “Why not? You ought to hear what he called me when I won that bet on the World Series.”

  She threw up her hands. “I quit.”

  “Only after the tenth one,” Keegan said as her father left. He grinned at her expression. “The tenth son, remember? We’ll call him Quits.”

  She flushed as she met his level blue gaze. “We?”