Renegade

by Diana Palmer

  "I went right into the army afterward, from one special ops assignment to another. Occasionally I did jobs in concert with other governments. When I got out of the army, I went freelance. I had nothing to live for and nothing to lose, and I got rich." He stiffened. "I didn't need anybody in the old days. I was hard as nails. Funny, nobody tells you that there are things you can't live with, until you've already done them."

  Her soft hand reached up to his lean, scarred cheek, and traced it tenderly. "You're still there," she said quietly, and her eyes had an eerie paleness as they met his reluctant ones. "You're trapped in your own past. You can't get out, because you can't let go of the pain and the hatred and the bitterness."

  "Can you?" he shot right back. "Can you forgive your attacker?"

  She let out a soft breath. "Not yet," she confessed. "But I've tried. And at least I've learned to put it in the back of my mind. For a long time, I hated the whole world and then Rory came to live with me. And I realized that I had to put him first and stop dwelling on the past. I can't let go of it completely, but it's not as much a burden as it was when I was younger."

  He traced her eyebrows with a lean forefinger. "I've never spoken of this to anyone. Ever."

  "I'm a clam," she replied gently. "At work, I'm everyone's confidant."

  "Same here," he confessed with a light smile. "I tell them that governments would topple if I told what I know. Maybe they would, too." "My secrets aren't that important. Feel better?" she asked, smiling up at him. He sighed. "In fact, I do," he said, surprised. He chuckled. "Maybe you're a

  witch," he mused, "putting spells on me." "I had an uncle who said our family came from Druids in ancient Ireland. Of course, he also said we had relatives who were priests and one who was a horse thief." She laughed. "He hated my mother and tried to get custody of me when I was ten. He died of a heart attack that same year."

  'Tough break." "My life has been one long tough break," she replied. "Sort of like yours. We've both been through the wars and survived." "You don't have my memories," he said quietly. "You might think of bad memories like boils," she commented, not totally facetiously. "They get worse until you lance them." "Not mine, honey." Her eyebrows lifted. She was fascinated by the endearment, uttered in that soft, deep tone. She colored a little. Odd, because she hated that word when it was tossed around by a parade of would-be lovers who used it like a weapon against her femininity. He lifted a single eyebrow and looked roguish. "You like that, do you?" he drawled. "And you know that I don't use endearments as a rule, too, don't you?" She nodded. "I know a lot of things about you that I shouldn't." His chin lifted and he looked down his long, straight nose at her. "I only thought you were dangerous in Jacobsville. Now I know you are." She grinned. "Glad you noticed." He laughed and let her go. "Come on. We're going to qualify as an exhibit if we stand here much longer." He held out his hand. She cocked her head. "Is that the only body part you're offering me?" she asked, and then colored wildly when she realized what she'd just said.

  He burst out laughing, linking her fingers with his. "Don't be pushy," he chided. "We haven't even had a torrid petting session yet." She cleared her throat. "Don't get your hopes up. I have a prudish nature." "It won't

  last long around me." "I call that conceit."

  "You won't when you see me in action," he teased, and his lingers contracted. His voice dropped as he leaned closer. "I know twelve really good positions, and I'm as slow as the blues in bed. If I weren't so modest, I could even give you references. 1 am a sensual experience that you'd never forget."

  "And so modest," she teased.

  "A man with my skills can do without modesty," he murmured wickedly.

  She wouldn't admit it, but the prospect made her utterly breathless. He saw that

  in her face. The smile grew broader.

  THEY HAD LUNCH in a Japanese restaurant, where Tippy and Rory were fascinated to

  hear Cash converse fluently with the waiter. He was competent with chopsticks, too. "I didn't know you spoke Japanese," Tippy exclaimed. "Have you been to Japan?" "Several times," he replied, lifting a piece of chicken to his mouth with the chopsticks. "I love it there."

  "Do you speak any other languages, Cash?" Rory wanted to know.

  "About six, I think," he replied lazily. He smiled at the boy's fascination. "If you ever

  want to get into intelligence work, languages will get you further than a law degree."

  "No, you don't," Tippy told Rory when he started to open his mouth. "You're going

  to get a nice job as a computer technician and get married and have a family."

  Rory glared at her. "I'll get married when you do."

  Cash chuckled.

  "Better yet," Rory added, "I'll get married when he does," and he pointed to Cash.

  "I wouldn't take that bet," Cash advised Tippy.

  "Neither would I," she had to admit.

  He glanced at her curiously, but he didn't smile. In fact, he was feeling sensations he'd never experienced in his life, and getting a vicious case of cold feet. This woman made him want things, need things, that he feared more than bullets. He ached to take her to bed, and it was becoming obvious that she would let him. It was a prospect that made his head swim. He could almost picture having that perfect body under his on crisp sheets, feeling her long legs curling around him, her full lips clinging to his mouth. She knew nothing about consensual sex, she'd said, but he could teach her. He had plenty of experience, plenty of skill, and he could introduce her to a veritable feast of physical pleasure. In fact, he was dying to do just that. Could she see it? Did she know?

  Her eyes were full of delight in his company. She might be second cousin to a virgin, but she certainly had the intelligence to see desire in a man's face, as well as in his body. Of course she knew. He felt trapped.

  He forced himself not to look at her while he tried to decide what to do next. Coming to New York, he told himself angrily, had been a bad idea. He needed to get out, while there was still time.

  His CHANGE OF ATTITUDE was all too evident to Tippy, who was suddenly very sensitive to nuances of expression in his hard, lean face. She withdrew as well. She was polite and cheerful, but the same distance that was in Cash now was also in her. They went back up to her apartment, where a boy about Rory's age was standing at the door, ringing the bell impatiently. He turned at the approach of the others.

  "Hey, Rory! Mom says she'll take us to see that new fantasy flick, and you can spend the night!" He glanced at Tippy and Cash and grimaced. "I guess you won't want to, though, since you've got company..."

  "Oh, Cash isn't company, Don, he's family," Rory said without hesitation, completely unaware of the expression on Cash's face. "I'd love to go! Can I, sis?" Don Hartley and his family lived next door, and they knew about Tippy's troubles with her mother. They'd never let Rory out of their sight.

  She hesitated. "Well..." she began. "I'll bet Cash is dying to take you out somewhere fancy, just the two of you," Rory prompted. "And you won't even have to bribe me!" Cash burst out laughing. "We could go to the ballet," he said. "I, uh, have tickets. I didn't know if you'd want to go..."

  "I love ballet," she said huskily. "I wanted to study it when I was a child, but.. .I never had the opportunity." She looked back at Don. "Okay, he can go. Just until breakfast, though. I won't get to have him around for very long, because we start shooting again the day after New Year's."

  "You're joking!" Cash exclaimed.

  "I'm not. The producer told us that his director has to start shooting a new film in

  Europe in March, so he's in a hurry to get this one in the can." She sighed.

  "You'll get bruised even more," Rory groaned.

  She shrugged. "What can I say?" she asked, and then grinned. "I'm a star!"

  RORY PACKED an overnight bag and went next door. Cash returned to his hotel to change

  into a suit, while Tippy went grasping through her entire wardrobe looking for just the

  right dr
ess. She'd only found it when Cash was at the door again.

  She caught her breath at the sight of him in evening clothes, with a spotless white

  shirt and black tie, finely creased trousers and shoes so polished that they reflected

  the ceiling. His hair was loose at his neck, slightly wavy and jet-black. He looked

  devastatingly handsome.

  "You're going in a housecoat, then?" he asked, nodding.

  She pulled it closer. "I was looking for the right dress."

  He checked his watch. "You've got five minutes to find it," he pointed out. "I have reservations at the Bull and Bear for six o'clock." Her jaw fell. 'That's one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city..." "At the Waldorf-Astoria," he added for her. "I know. The ballet starts at eight. I'm

  ready. If you're not going in that—" he indicated the ankle-length blue housecoat "— you'd better get cracking."

  She left a vapor trail getting into her bedroom.

  She wore an off-the-shoulder white velvet dress with a black bow, and topped it with a black velvet coat with a white lining. She left her hair long and used the faintest trace of makeup. She put on diamond earrings and a diamond necklace and bracelet. Without looking again in the mirror, she went out to join Cash.

  He was browsing through her bookshelf when he heard the door open. He turned, and his face froze. She felt suddenly insecure. "Should I wear something else?" she asked nervously. He just looked at her, his dark eyes narrow and quiet. "I saw a painting in a gallery once," he murmured, moving toward her

  slowly. "Of a fairy dancing in the moonlight, laughing. You look

  like her."

  "Was she wearing a velvet coat, then?" she asked facetiously.

  "I'm not joking." He framed her face in his big hands. "I thought she was the most seductive creature I'd ever seen until right now." His eyes fell to her soft mouth. "You take my breath away...!"

  His hard lips settled on her mouth, slowly, gently, so that he didn't frighten her. He drew her against him lazily, not forcefully, and his lips toyed with hers until he felt her tense body relax, until he felt her lips slacken. She took a jerky breath and slowly settled close against his hard chest. Her hands slid up to the nape of his strong neck. He could feel their coldness against his skin.

  He lifted his head scant inches so that he could look into her beautiful pale green eyes. She was frightened. But she wasn't lighting to get away. If anything, those eyes were glittery with desire.

  "I won't hurt you," he promised quietly.

  "I'm not afraid of you," she said breathlessly.

  "Are you sure?" he taunted at her mouth. He bit at it in quick, ardent little kisses that had an explosive effect on both of them. He caught her hips suddenly, riveted them to the powerful thrust of his body. She gasped, shivering at the sudden rush of hot pleasure that seethed in her veins at the intimate contact.

  "Yes, you know what that is, don't you, baby?" he ground out against her mouth. His hands tightened and his mouth hardened on her lips. "Do you want to feel it inside you?" he whispered at her ear.

  "Cash!" She struggled helplessly, really frightened when she couldn't get away.

  He realized it, finally, and loosened his grip. "Sorry," he bit off.

  She didn't move. Her eyes searched his. "Me, too. I forget. . .men.. .lose control," she whispered.

  "I don't," he replied curtly. "Not ever. Not until just now."

  She stared at him with wide, fascinated eyes. The stark confession should have frightened her. It had the opposite effect. He didn't realize that it made him seem more vulnerable to her. It exorcised her fear in one long sigh.

  "It's all right," she whispered, and managed a soft smile. "I'm not frightened anymore."

  His fingers teased around her softly rounded chin. They moved to her mouth and toyed with her soft lips. He explored her, his fingers like an artist's brush, touching and tracing.. .tormenting.

  Her body rippled as his arm drew it closer. But her lips lifted and her eyes closed, in blatant invitation. "You taste like cotton candy, Tippy," he breathed as his mouth settled gently over her parted lips. "I could eat you alive..."

  She felt the hardness of his lips brushing at hers, teasing and lifting, searching. She followed them blindly, hanging against him like a dove, living from second to second in his loose embrace. He wasn't threatening. He wasn't frightening. She loved the touch of his body against hers, the clean, crisp scent of his aftershave. She loved the way he held her, with tenderness but also with strength and confidence.

  Odd little tremors began to work through her legs, up her spine. She moved closer to Cash, uncertain. Her hands behind his neck began to link. Her body lifted, involuntarily, into closer contact. She would have died to have him.

  He felt those responses and lifted his mouth from hers to search her confused eyes. "You want me. I know it, but I won't take advantage. You're safe," he breathed. "It's all right to let go. I won't hurt you. I won't force you. All right?"

  She was still uncertain, but she nodded faintly and closed her eyes, waiting.

  Her trust in him made his knees weak. He knew instinctively how hard this was for her, to give up control of her body to a man. after what she'd suffered in her youth. He clamped down hard on his own rising desire. He wanted to be tender with her. He wanted her to feel such pleasure that she'd never be able to look at another man as long as she lived...!

  His mouth brushed hers softly, and then insistently. He let her responses guide him, drawing back slightly when she stiffened, pressing his advantage when she pushed closer to him. Seconds rushed by in a heated pulse of pleasure that grew and grew.

  She moaned softly when his mouth grew hungry on her lips, and her body lifted up

  against his with real need. He felt the desire funnel up in her, felt her own hunger

  kindle from contact with his.

  Yes, he thought feverishly, she wanted him. Even if she didn't know it yet. He

  reached around her and lifted her completely off the floor in his embrace, and his

  mouth became passionate on her soft lips.

  She shivered at the need in him that she could feel like a living pulse. His mouth was

  fierce in its possession of her lips, his body began to tauten. She heard him groan

  huskily into her mouth as his arms tightened roughly at her back.

  She should have been frightened. He might never lose control with another woman,

  but he was quickly losing it with her. She was flattered at the need she sensed in him.

  She recalled dazedly what he'd told her once, about it having been a long time between

  women. He was hungry and she was apparently willing. What if he didn't want to

  stop? What if he couldn't stop?

  He felt her enthusiasm wane and he drew away from her at

  once, letting her slip back to her feet. He lifted his head, watching her, his face wiped

  clean of expression. Only his glittery dark eyes were alive in it.

  She swallowed hard. "Just checking," she managed weakly.

  "To see if I really could stop?" he mused with a smile.

  She nodded, embarrassed.

  He traced her swollen mouth. "You're not what I expected."

  "Neither are you." She hid her face against him for a moment, remembering the blatant question he'd asked her earlier. Even in memory, it aroused her. She thought of feeling him deep inside her body. She shivered with exquisite pleasure. But just as she started to say something equally blatant to him, he drew back.

  He bent and kissed the tip of her nose. "We'd better go. We're going to throw everything off schedule." She looked up at him, hesitating. She felt hot all over, strained, hungry. Her eyes were full of unsatisfied need. "If I asked you..."

  "Yes?" he prompted.

  She swallowed and forced herself to speak. "If I asked you to make love to me..."

  He pressed his thumb against her swollen mouth. His eyes flared. "I want
to! You can't imagine how much. But I don't start things I can't finish." "But I could finish this," she said with painful emphasis. "I could, with you!" His body actually shuddered. He put her away from him. He didn't dare accept that

  invitation. He should be shot for what he'd already done and said tonight.

  "Well, you're not going to. Not tonight. I offered you dinner and the ballet," he said brusquely, moving to the door. "Only that!" He glanced at her. "Are you coming?"