Pushing the fantasy aside, she realised how little she knew of Dane's background. She had been careful about questioning him in case he did the same with her and she gave herself away. But having gained in confidence, she felt she could handle anything he threw at her.
'Are you from California?' she asked.
'From across the border—Portland.'
'Nice city. I was there for a week last year discussing plans for a school—but it didn't come to anything.'
'You must have been disappointed.'
'I was. Don't you feel let down when you lose a case?'
'I've never lost one. I've been lucky, I guess.'
'False modesty doesn't become you, Dane! Much as I loathe what you do, I have to admit you're top of your field.'
'You've a marvellous knack of turning a compliment into an insult! Considering how you feel about my profession, I'm surprised you want to marry me.'
'So am I!' Leslie had been ready for this remark for months, and fielded it expertly. 'But one can't fall in love—or out of it—to order. You're the last person in the world I wanted to love, yet I couldn't prevent it happening, and now I'm willing to take you warts and all.'
'Your way with words continues to underwhelm me!' grunted Dane. 'Are you always so damn blunt?'
'Would you rather I put on an act, like your other girl-friends?'
'Don't you dare! As I've already said, your honesty is one of the things I like about you.' Dark eyes glinted with humour. 'Though I won't deny that an occasional white lie wouldn't hurt your cause!'
'You're so clever you'd see through them.'
'I guess I would, at that. So I'll have to take you warts and all!'
Unexpectedly, Leslie's conscience prickled. Until Dane had come into her life, she had considered herself perfectly straightforward. Yet now she was as straight as a corkscrew!
'Where do we go from here?' Dane asked suddenly. 'You've got to admit we both have the same end in mind.'
'But mine leads to it via the altar, and yours is strictly up the garden path!'
Against his will, he laughed. 'You're such a delight to be with, Leslie. If only you weren't so old- fashioned!'
'If I were different, you might feel differently about me too.'
'Take a chance and find out,' he invited.
'No.'
'You're so obstinate.'
'You're no Mr Malleable yourself!' Leslie retorted.
'Agreed. But at least I'm leading a full and happy life—unlike you. Dammit, Leslie, don't you ever feel sexually frustrated?'
'Quite often. But then I remember what marriage means to me, and I'm willing to wait.'
'Me too,' he said irritably. 'For ever!'
She gave a deep sigh. 'Don't you want children?'
'Eventually. But marriage is no longer a requisite, surely?'
'Depends where you live. America is more than California and New York, you know, and the young have enough problems growing up in the world, without the added burden of illegitimacy.'
Dane stared into his cup, pondering her remark. 'Could be you're right,' he conceded finally. 'But I still contend that marriage will eventually be viewed as an anachronism.'
'Which will make your particular talents—as a lawyer—redundant!' she added mischievously. 'You'd better start saving for your retirement!'
'I can afford to retire now. I only work because I enjoy handling divorce.'
Leslie knew he was deliberately riling her, and refusing to rise to the bait, she changed the subject.
'Do you have parents?' she asked.
'Naturally! Contrary to your belief, I wasn't created in Frankenstein's laboratory!' 'You know what I mean,' she pouted. 'Are they still alive?'
'My mother is.'
'When did you lose your father?'
'In my early teens.'
There was a noticeable thinning of his mouth and she waited for him to continue, but he took another sip of coffee and remained silent.
'Any brothers and sisters?' she ventured.
Three sisters, all older than I am, and married, with families large enough to keep an adoring grandmother fully occupied.'
'So you're the only son?'
'And spoiled rotten—so don't bother saying it! But I was too independent to be a victim of smother-love!'
In spite of all he was saying, Leslie was still convinced his reluctance to form a binding relationship stemmed from something in his past. But what? It sounded secure enough, and he spoke fondly of his mother and sisters.
'Now I've told you about my family,' Dane put in, 'how about filling me in on yours?'
Leslie was glad she had rehearsed her answer, and she launched into it confidently. 'My parents are dead, and I was an only child. Most of my relatives live back East, but I can't stand cold weather and moved to California when I left college. That about sums it up.'
'Not really. I'd like to see more of the light and shade. A bright girl like you must have an interesting family tree.'
'Mind if I tell you another time?' Leslie made herself yawn prettily. 'I'm awfully tired.'
On the journey back to La Costa, she kept her eyes closed to discourage Dane from further questions. Not that she wasn't prepared for them, but tonight had been a strain from start to finish, and she was exhausted from being constantly on her mettle, feigning emotions she didn't feel. Only in the safety of her room could she relax and be herself again—and how she longed for it!
The touch of Dane's lips on hers—light and cool— made her eyes fly open. Instinctively she turned her head away, and surprisingly he didn't stop her.
'We've reached your castle, Sleeping Beauty.' Gently he drew her out of the car.
'It was a lovely evening,' she told him as they entered the hotel lobby.
'It's not over till we reach your bedroom door.'
'As long as you realise that's where it is over!'
'Scared you mightn't be able to resist me if I come in for a nightcap?'
His question was too close to home for comfort. 'How about a game of tennis tomorrow?' she parried. 'We could play mixed doubles if your friend can find himself a partner.'
'I'll ask him and let you know at breakfast. Meet me in the dining-room at nine. Or is that too early for you?'
'You've got to be kidding. I'm not a lying-in girl.'
'Because you've no one to lie in with! Do it with the right person, and I guarantee you'll find it more fun than getting up!'
'I'll take your word for it.'
'Try it for yourself—with me.'
Leslie sighed. 'You deserve an A-plus for persistence.'
'For performance too!' came the swift retort. 'Try me.'
'I will—on our wedding night!'
Dane chuckled. 'You deserve an A-plus for insistence!'
They had reached her bedroom, and as she took the key from her purse, he plucked it from her and opened the door. She crossed the threshold, hand extended for her key, but he shook his head.
'Not until I've kissed you goodnight.'
'You did that in the car,' she reminded him.
'That was a wake-up kiss. There's a world of difference.' He came closer and tilted her face up to his. 'I'll show you.'
His mouth came down on hers, warm and demanding, as were his hands, moving across her back and tracing the curves of her body, pressing them close to his. He made no attempt to hide his arousal, his clothes a scant barrier to his hardness.
Leslie tried to push him away, but he caught her wrists and edged her further into the room, closing the door with his foot.
Once again he took possession of her lips, running his tongue gently across them, then parting them to enter and explore the moist depths. She tried to break free, but it was hopeless. His hold was like a vice and his lips were already nuzzling the soft hollow of her throat, then moving along the smooth skin of her shoulders to the curve of her breasts, their nipples clearly visible beneath their thin covering.
'You know you want me,' he said th
ickly. 'Why fight it?'
Why indeed? she wondered, for his question had given her an idea. It was one born of desperation, for tonight had shown her how determined Dane was to stay single. But what would happen if she let him make love to her—not all the way, of course, but enough to give him a sample of the pleasures that could be his? It was a ploy as old as the hills, and one he might easily see through, but it was worth her taking the chance.
The main danger lay in her susceptibility to him, and being able to stop herself before the act of consummation. Yet she refused to think of the consequences of failure. She was gambling for high stakes, and it made the risk worthwhile.
'I'm not fighting you, Dane, only myself,' she whispered shakily. 'You know how much you mean to me and I…' She forced a note of panic into her voice. 'Please go. Don't make me do something I'll regret.'
'You won't regret it, sweetheart,' he said throatily, the quickening of his breathing giving her an indication of his excitement. 'You were made for love, and I'm going to show you how wonderful it can be.' Eyes darkened by desire ranged over her with such naked passion that she felt as if he were stripping her.
'No, Dane, I can't!'
'You can, darling.' Tenderly he kissed the palms of her hands, then flicked his tongue along the tips of her fingers. 'Don't be scared of me. I'll stop any time you want.'
Leslie had difficulty hiding a smile. That line had probably originated with Adam, and if Dane believed she would fall for it, he must think her as innocent as Eve. Well, he would soon discover that her bed wasn't going to be his Garden of Eden—more like Paradise Lost!
'You're the most wonderful man I've met,' she said huskily. 'You can be so thoughtful, so kind and gentle.'
She wondered if she were laying it on too thick, but his expression told her he was lapping it up like a puppy milk, and she marvelled at his kingsized ego. What pleasure she would get from deflating it!
'Take me to bed,' she moaned, leaning against him and running her fingers through his hair. 'Make love to me, Dane. I want you so much.'
'And I want you.' His voice throbbed with passion as he drew her down upon the bed.
Deftly he undid the tiny buttons of her bodice, and easing her free of it, cupped his lean, bronzed hands around her full breasts. Expertly his mouth claimed each rosebud nipple in turn, his tongue and teeth teasing one rosy peak and then the other, till she lay shuddering against him, wondering where she would find the strength to resist him.
His lips returned to hers, and she met him kiss for kiss, lost in an exhilarating joy that was swiftly spiralling out of control as he explored the most intimate parts of her body; touching, stroking, licking, caressing. Never had she believed she could respond with such fervour, and the sheer physical pleasure of his naked flesh upon her aroused her to such wanton desire to have his hardness inside her that her legs parted involuntarily, bidding him into the burning core of her; to take control, to assuage the gnawing ache.
'Now you're going to learn what love's all about!' Dane muttered fiercely, his mouth tracing a red-hot line of fire along hers.
If he hadn't spoken, Leslie would mindlessly have given him total possession of her. But the word 'love' was like a thunderclap in her ears, bringing her back to reality as nothing else could have done.
How dare he use the word love? It played no part in what they were doing; their bodies were merely responding to a biological urge.
Pushing him violently away, she rolled from beneath him, gathering the sheet about her nakedness as she did.
'What the hell!' Dane flicked on the bedside light and peered at her. 'Is this some kind of game?'
'No. I'm just exercising my prerogative. You said if I didn't want to go all the way…'
Her voice was low as she put the distance of the room between them, and came to rest by the window. She felt safer here, less vulnerable to his very considerable physical presence. Nude, he was like a Greek god, his body a perfect combination of well- honed muscle and bone.
'You said you'd stop any time I wanted,' she reminded him, annoyed to find her voice shaking. 'Don't be angry with me, Dane.'
His mouth opened and shut again. She had him, and he knew it.
'Sex without marriage goes against everything I believe in,' she went on, hiding her triumph. 'But because I love you so much I thought I could go against that belief. But I find I can't and… Oh, Dane, I'm so sorry. Truly I am.'
K Sorry V he echoed contemptuously. 'I'm the one who should be sorry! Sorry I made the mistake of thinking you were a flesh-and-blood woman.'
His voice lashed against her like a whip, and she was astonished he had so much control when only minutes ago he had been racked by passion.
'You won't make a fool of me again, Leslie.' Standing up, he gathered his scattered clothes from the floor and began to dress.
Silently she watched him. What more was there to say anyway? He was like a stranger, his mouth a narrow slit, a vein pulsing angrily at his temple. Poor Dane. How frustrated he was, and how thoroughly he disliked her! In an odd sort of way she almost felt sympathy for him.
'Do you still want me to continue working on the house?' she asked as he went to the door.
'You asked me that before,' he said with a hard stare, 'and the answer's still the same. Our personal relationship may have reached rock-bottom, but professionally, I still think you're the tops.'
The door closed quietly behind him, and Leslie was reminded of the day they had met, when she had been so rude to him and had expected him to slam it. But then, as now, he had kept his cool in the face of extreme provocation.
Perhaps a man who could keep his emotions under such tight control was incapable of the kind of love needed to commit himself to one woman. Maybe he had once been so badly hurt that the wall he had built around himself was impenetrable. If that were so, she had been wasting her time.
She slipped on her nightdress and clambered into bed. A host of questions continued to plague her, and as she finally drifted off to sleep, she still hadn't found a satisfactory answer to any of them.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The following morning at breakfast, Leslie was not surprised to discover Dane had booked out of the hotel, and naturally his absence did not go unremarked.
'That was a short-lived reunion,’ commented Marybeth, as she stretched out on a sunbed beside the pool. 'What went wrong?'
'The bedroom scene.'
'Don't tell me you didn't find it up to expectations?' Marybeth sounded incredulous.
'The dress rehearsal was great,' Leslie admitted, 'but I decided to cancel the opening night.'
'Having got that far, why, for heaven's sake?'
'Because I've always refused to sleep with him. I'm not interested in an affair. It's marriage or nothing.'
'Looks like you'll have to settle for nothing, then. From what you've told me, Dane's the original immovable object!'
It was a prophecy that proved all too true, for in the month that followed, Leslie neither saw nor heard from him. He avoided all his usual haunts, directives regarding the house were relayed via his secretary, and he made sure his visits never coincided with hers.
Yet each time the intercom buzzed in her office, or the phone rang in her apartment, she would momentarily expect to hear Dane's voice at the other end.
But she could not rely on feelings for ever, and gradually she started picking up the threads of her social life. A commission to design a clinic for a group of doctors introduced her to Grant Hayward, a heart specialist who lost no time in asking her out.
'Brains and beauty are an unusual mix in Tinsel Town,' he told her over drinks on their first date. 'How would you feel if I monopolised all your free evenings?'
'I might feel delighted.'
And she did. Divorced and childless, Grant was an attractive, intelligent man with whom she found it easy to relax. After the strain of the past months, when she continually had to watch her every word, it was refreshing to be her true self again.
She gained weight and the tension lines at the corners of her mouth and eyes disappeared. She eased off on her work-load too, and either spent the weekends at the beach, where Grant had a house, or on Robert's boat. Knowing how much she loved sailing, he had left it to her, as well as sufficient funds for its upkeep, which was considerable. Yet in the months since his death she had rarely taken it out, and had recently toyed with the idea of selling it.
But with Grant as her companion, the thirty-foot cabin cruiser roared into life again, and she spent many happy hours aboard, sunning, swimming and lazing, with the odd foray on water-skis. Though she was fairly proficient herself, Grant was the expert, and he soon had her jumping and balancing on one leg!
Yet in spite of his attractions she could not forget Dane. His image impinged on everything she did, until she began to wonder if her desire to teach him a lesson had turned into an obsessive mania. After all, she had tried her best to capture him and had failed, so why not call it a day and stop thinking about him?
More important, why couldn't she respond to the desire she saw so clearly in Grant's eyes?
'Come away with me one weekend?' His voice broke into her thoughts.
They were strolling along the beach in front of his house, hands lightly clasped. Tall, slim, and in his late thirties, he cut an athletic figure in a light grey track- suit, the colour of his eyes.
'I wondered when you'd get around to that,' Leslie said ruefully.
'I was around it and back again the first night I met you!' Grant confessed. 'But I've been marking time. You're not the kind of girl who hops into bed just to say "thanks for a pleasant evening"!'
Leslie stopped walking and faced the sea, watching the light from the slowly setting sun cast its deep orange glow across the water. It was the time of day she loved best here, when the world seemed ringed with gold before the onrush of darkness.
'What would you say if I told you I'm not the sort of girl who hops into bed, period?'
'I'd say you were even more unique than I'd thought!'
'Unique good, or unique bad?'
He chuckled. 'Let's just say it won't stop me seeing you. Sex is important to me, but I'm willing to wait until you're ready.'
Roberta Leigh - Too Bad to be True Page 6
