Hold Back The Dawn

by Duncan, Judith

  Leslie looked up at Steve, her eyes wide with mock alarm. "And he thinks you fly by the seat of your pants!"

  Steve winked at her and grinned as Bob protested, "Whose side are you on? There's nothing wrong with my driving—"

  "If you have a strong death wish," Steve interrupted dryly. He rested his hand firmly on Leslie's shoulder and held her protectively against him as they bounced along.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  IT DIDN'T TAKE LESLIE LONG to decide she genuinely liked the entire Jansen family. Anne was a warm, outgoing woman who put her at ease immediately. Then there were the boys—three boisterous lovable sccapms who, to quote their father, could charm the rattles off a snake. It was true, and Leslie fell in love with each of them.

  Robbie, who was five years old, and Steven, who was three, flung themselves jubilantly at Steve, and Leslie was filled with pride at his easy natural way with them. Her feelings nearly smothered her when he produced gaily wrapped gifts for each of the boys, a very expensive bottle of perfume for Anne and some twenty-year-old Scotch for Bob.

  The constriction in Leslie's throat eased, however, and a soft laugh rippled up when the baby, nine-month-old Glen, refused to be charmed. He clung shyly to his mother, rejecting the gift with a sharp shake of his head. Steve handed the package to Leslie, and when Glen came to her without hesitation and buried his face against her neck, she was delighted.

  At seven o'clock that evening Bob received a phone call, informing him that some parts he needed had arrived in Grande Prairie on the Greyhound bus.

  "Steve, why don't you and Leslie drive in with me?" he offered. "It would give you a chance to have a look at our little city."

  Leslie happened to glance across at Anne and saw a fleeting look of wistfulness in the other woman's eyes. With three small children, Anne would seldom have the opportunity to go out with her husband on the spur of the moment.

  "Anne, why don't you go with them? I can tuck Steven and Robbie into bed, and besides, I'd like to have a shower." Leslie laughed, then grimaced. "I think I'm safer here anyway. I had the feeling your husband was trying to dispose of me with his wild driving."

  Anne rolled her eyes and grinned. "I know. Isn't he a maniac behind the wheel?" She looked at Leslie hopefully. "Are you sure you don't mind?"

  "No, in fact, I'd enjoy it." Just then the baby let out an angry yell and Anne automatically turned away.

  Leslie jumped ahead of her. "You go on, Anne. I can settle him down." Without giving her an opportunity to argue, Leslie left the kitchen and walked down the hallway to the baby's room.

  She was in the process of changing his soggy diaper when she heard the truck clatter down the road. She tucked Glen back in his crib, then rubbed his back until he drifted off to sleep.

  When she returned to the spacious ranch-style kitchen, she was surprised to find Steve sitting at the table, helping the boys assemble a jigsaw puzzle.

  "How come you didn't go with them?"

  There was a twinkle in Steve's eyes as he looked up at her. "I told Anne and Bob to make a night of it and that I'd stay here to make sure you guys don't burn the house down."

  She made a face at him. "I love your confidence in us!"

  "I thought you would."

  Leslie busied herself tidying up the kitchen, keenly aware of the happy chatter of children's voices and the overwhelming presence of the man she loved. It would be so wonderful if— Abruptly she halted that dangerous avenue of thought. She must not allow herself the luxury of dreaming. She sighed pensively as she folded the tea towel and hung it up. Then she glanced at her watch; it was nearly bedtime.

  She walked over to the table and tousled Robbie's shiny-clean hair. "Would you guys like some banana soup before you go to bed?" There was a ragged chorus of "Banana Soup" from them and Leslie laughed. "Sure. Do you want to try some?"

  Robbie and Steven were willing to try anything, but Steve pulled a face of distaste. "Count me out. It sounds ghastly!" .

  "You don't know what you're missing."

  "Oh, I think I do!"

  Leslie personally thought the concoction was ghastly too, but it was a favorite of the kids in the hospital where she used to do volunteer work. She sliced bananas into two cereal bowls, sprinkled them liberally with crushed peanuts and added a dash of cinnamon. After pouring chocolate milk over the contents, she topped it off with a scoop of ice cream.

  The boys enthusiastically rated it the best in bed-time treats, but Steve was not impressed. "That looks awful!"

  "But Uncle Steve, it's dewicious," exclaimed Steven. "Wanna bite?"

  "Lord, no!"

  Robbie emptied the bowl and smacked his lips, then came to Leslie's defense. "I like it a lot, Auntie Leslie. You know what little boys like."

  Steve grinned at Leslie, his eyes flashing boldly. "She knows what big boys like, too." Leslie shot him a tart look, and he laughed, his eyes sparkling.

  "What do big boys like, Auntie Leslie?"

  "Their own way!"

  Robbie looked confused, but Steve tipped his head back and laughed. His shoulders were still shaking as he stood up and caught one boy in each arm. "You guys had better go to bed before this conversation gets right out of hand."

  They squealed with delight as he started packing them off to their room. But little Steven reached out toward Leslie. "Tell us a stowy, Auntie Leslie."

  Steve hitched him up. "No, Auntie Leslie wants to have a shower. Besides, I'll tell you a scary story guaranteed to give you nightmares." The boys thought that sounded just fine.

  Leslie watched, an ache in her chest, as Steve bundled them off. She cleared the table and loaded the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. After making certain that the kitchen was in perfect order, she went down the hall and tiptoed into the baby's room, where she was going to sleep. Silently she stripped off her clothes, donned the Chinese robe, then slipped into the huge bathroom across the hall.

  She felt refreshed after her quick shower. She had toweled her hair dry and was brushing it back when the door edged open and little Steven came in. "I wanna drink, prease."

  Leslie swept him up in her arms and seated him on the vanity. She wiped the traces of the "soup" from his chubby little face, then gave him a drink.

  He sneaked his arms around her neck and gave her a substantial hug. "Tuck me in?"

  "I would love to, little man." She carried him into his bedroom, and tried to ignore the funny little skip of her heart at the sight of a long masculine body sprawled on Robbie's bed. She tucked Steven in, then kissed him good night.

  Steve rolled to his feet and ruffled Robbie's hair. "Goodnight, sport."

  "Good night, Uncle Steve." The boy looked at Leslie. "Will you tuck me in, too?"

  Leslie nodded and tucked him in, then dropped a kiss on his forehead. "Good night, Robbie."

  "Good night. You smell awful nice, Auntie Leslie."

  "Why, thank you very much, kind sir." She switched off the overhead light and turned on the tiny night-light. "Sweet dreams."

  There was the soft click of the door closing as Steve followed her out. Catching her from behind, he pulled her back against him. He bent his head and kissed her on the sensitive spot behind her ear. "Umm. You do smell good. I believe my godson is going to be a man of discernment and good taste."

  Leslie managed a shaky laugh as Steve slowly released her and draped his arm around her, then led her down the hall to the large sunken living room. There he flipped on the light, motioning to the brick fireplace where wood and kindling had been arranged on the grate. "Why don't you light the fire, and I'll check out the stereo."

  Leslie moved to the fireplace and knelt on the huge cushions piled in front of the hearth. She was aware of the click of a cassette being inserted into the tape deck as she held a flaming match to the paper. Her hand began to tremble when she heard the strains of soft music. The quivering flame caught and flared as Steve switched off the lamp, then sauntered toward her.

  He reached down and pulled her to her
feet, his low husky voice seducing her senses. "Dance with me."

  Leslie tried unsuccessfully to free her hands. She lowered her head, her voice barely audible. "No."

  "Why?"

  She forced a feeble laugh. "I'd need stilts."

  "What's the real reason?" There was the familiar ring of determination in his voice, and his grip tightened on her hands. She knew by his tone that the question couldn't be ignored. She glanced up at him. The flickering flames sent shadows dancing across his face, and she shivered. Just the thought of dancing with him started a curling tightness in her abdomen. "Because I don't think it's wise."

  He drew her against him, ignoring her resistance. "I want to know why."

  She rested her head weakly against his chest, struggling to stifle the magnified longings that tormented her.

  He gave her an impatient little shake. "Answer me, Leslie.''

  She tried to be flippant, but her voice betrayed her by its husky tremor. ''Because I don't want to put you in a 'twist.' Steve, I—"

  He silenced her with a provoking kiss, at the same time running his fingers through her hair and gently caressing her ears with his thumbs. "Are you afraid of me, Leslie?"

  She began to tremble against him. "No."

  "Trust me?"

  "Oh, Steve, you know I do. I just don't want—"

  "Shh, sweetheart." He caught her to him and Leslie was lost. She melted against him and slipped her arms around his waist. The sensual music wove its web as they swayed to the throbbing rhythm, their bodies fused together. Leslie lost all awareness of time as she gave herself to the quiet intimacy that was theirs alone. As they danced, their movements became more and more languid, until they were practically motionless.

  Steve lifted her up, his embrace tender, and carried her to the pile of pillows by the fireplace. Leslie hadn't expected the breathtaking sensation that galvanized her as Steve lay down beside her and gathered her against him. The feel of his body against hers was so beautiful that she uttered a little moan of pleasure. He sensed her reaction and held her more closely, soothing her with his strength, cocooning her in a wonderful serenity that gave her an incredible sense of belonging. She was safe and secure, protected from uncertainty and loneliness, from fear and pain. He seemed to surround her, and nothing, absolutely nothing, could touch her but him. His embrace never slackened as he held her for countless moments.

  Then slowly, so slowly, he eased her away from him and with deliberate movements began to unfasten the gold frogs on the front of her robe. As he smoothed back the red silk, he raised himself on one elbow. Leslie heard him suck in his breath sharply as the firelight cast dancing shadows across her bare skin. His eyes lingered on her, drinking in the perfection of her body, the expressive beauty of her face.

  Leslie felt no embarrassment or shame. She felt only a desperate need to know his body, to experience the feel of him. With trembling hands she reached up to caress his face, then trailed her fingers around his ears and down his neck to the buttons on f his shirt. She undid them one by one, then slowly slipped her hands across his flat torso and up his muscled chest. She felt him shudder beneath her touch. His face darkened and his thickly lashed lids drooped. He was devouring her with his gaze; he caught her hands and held them in a possessive grip above her head. Their eyes met, communicating a need as old as mankind.

  Leslie's body began to quiver as he laid his other hand on her cheek. With agonizing slowness he combed his hand through her hair, letting it wind around his fingers like strands of living silk. He trailed his fingers lightly down her face and traced the outline of her sweeping brows, then caressed her high cheekbones with his thumb as he drew his hand along her jaw. His touch became firmer as he explored her slim neck, his fingers lingering on the wildly beating pulse at the base of her throat. Leslie's eyes fluttered shut, and a spasm of desire shivered through her when Steve cupped her breast in his hand, tormenting her with a new surge of feeling. She trembled violently as he prolonged the sweet agony, continuing to touch her, to caress her like a master sculptor exploring the marble form of Venus.

  Leslie struggled weakly to free her hands, but Steve's grasp tightened. His voice was thick with desire as he whispered, "You are so beautiful—God, so beautiful."

  He lowered his head, his mouth hot and moist against hers. The ache in her grew as he dragged his mouth along her neck, leaving a trail of fire. She moaned again as his tongue probed her ear, sending chills of desire quivering through her body.

  He had aroused her before, but nothing, nothing like this agonizing pleasure he was giving her now. He was lifting her to a pinnacle of longing that went far beyond sexual response, a height of passion that was sweeter, more tormenting than anything she could ever have imagined. As his mouth sought the rosy peak of her breast, Leslie involuntarily arched against him.

  As he had come to know her body with his eyes and hands, now he came to know it with his searching mouth, arousing her until a storm of longing raged within her. She writhed beneath his ardent touch and he groaned hoarsely, releasing her hands and pulling her beneath him. As flesh fused against flesh, there was a tempestuous surge of mutual desire. He captured her yielding mouth with his; at the same time Leslie twisted beneath him, pleading with her tormented body for assuagement from the searing hunger. She slid her hands down his naked back to the waistband of his jeans, and with an urgent gesture, tugged on the barrier of clothing.

  Steve released his powerful hold on her, allowing her space. But when her fingers fumbled with the buckle of his belt, he jerked away from her abruptly. Clenching his eyes shut, he rolled over on his back, his sweat-dampened body rigid with tension. Leslie slid her hand along his hard flat abdomen, but he grasped it tightly, then pulled her hot trembling body across his as he battled for control.

  The heated turbulent charge that bound them together was shattered by the cold penetrating jangle of the phone. Steve swore softly, then released her, twisting out from beneath her and getting smoothly to his feet.

  Leslie stiffened against the scalding ache of denied fulfillment. After a few moments, the turmoil abated, and she struggled weakly into a sitting position. The bracelet of her watch caught on the loosely woven fabric of one of the cushions, and with trembling fingers she unhooked the tangled thread. Automatically she glanced at the time and shook her head in disbelief. Ten o'clock! No wonder she was in such a state. For more than two hours she had been lost to the onslaught of Steve McRory's sexual magnetism—it was enough to rip any woman's composure to shreds.

  She managed, with fumbling fingers, to fasten the front of her robe. Her mind was still swimming from the recent assault on her senses. Steve's lovemaking had led her down paths of desire of which she had been totally innocent...

  She sensed Steve's presence behind her immediately. Her uneasiness rapidly turned to panic; she felt so incapable of dealing with the situation. She had no experience on which to draw, and felt at an extreme disadvantage in that this wasn't a casual involvement for her. What could she say? What was he thinking? She had to get away from him, from his overpowering presence.

  She started to rise, but Steve caught her from behind and hauled her back into his arms. "Where do you think you're going?"

  She shook her head, her petite body tense and trembling as she refused to meet his eyes.

  "Look at me, Leslie." His arms tightened around her, and Leslie was suddenly filled with dread at what she might see in his eyes. It cost her every ounce of courage she had to look up at him. What she saw caused her heart to constrict painfully in her chest.

  The ravages of their tempestuous lovemaking had left a brand of torment on his rugged handsome face. He, too, had not escaped unscathed. There was a grim set to his jaw, but something lurking in the depths of his eyes allayed the spurt of dismay she experienced.

  Hesitantly she reached up and laid her hand along his jaw, her fingers massaging the rigid muscles below his ear. He remained immobile for a moment, then with a soft groan caught her han
d and ardently kissed her sensitive palm.

  Leslie shivered, her eyes dark and soft as she whispered, "Don't be angry, Steve."

  His eyes closed and Leslie could feel the muscles in his face grow tense. When he opened his eyes, he gazed at her with a look that was so potent, so intimate that she could feel it burn through her. A little sob caught in her throat as she swayed. With a hoarse curse, he impatiently caught her against him, and sank back onto the cushions with her body molded tightly against his.

  "I'm not angry, Les. There are times when you make me forget what an innocent you are. I forget that I've known you less than a month." His tone was dry and heavy with irony. "In fact, I forget damned near everything except how very much..." He kissed her tenderly.

  Leslie would have given the world to know what he had been going to say. She sighed reluctantly when he lifted her into a sitting position and began to comb his fingers through her hair. She caught his hands and looked at him, her eyes very dark. "Steve, why did you...?"

  He shook his head, his own eyes rueful. "You aren't ready for that kind of involvement, my darling. Not yet. Besides, that was Bob on the phone. They're at the hangar unloading the parts, and he phoned to tell me to have the coffee on. They'll be here in a few minutes."

  Leslie felt a chill of apprehension when a withdrawn look settled on his face. He was pulling back, she could sense it. He was trying to tell her, in the kindest, most subtle way, that their relationship was getting too involved too quickly. She had known from the beginning that she wasn't the type of woman he would ever fall in love with, but the resurgence of that knowledge caused a pain around her heart that was nearly unbearable. She had to get away from him, from the spell he cast on her.

  With a swift graceful movement, she twisted out of his arms and stood up, her back to him. "Please make my apologies to the Jansens. I'm really very tired, and I think I'll go to bed." With that, she fled from the room.