by Donna Vitek
"Having a nice evening, Kit?" Jason inquired abruptly, his eyes unusually luminescent as they pierced hers. "Or did you just have a little tiff with your boyfriend?"
"Brad's not my boyfriend. Heaven forbid," she protested vehemently. "He's Jess Whitney's brother and the most pious bore you'd ever want to meet."
Jason's narrowed gaze held hers. "If he's such a bore, why are you here with him?"
"Blind date," she confessed, wrinkling her small nose. "I've heard they turn out wonderful once in a while, but this definitely isn't one of those times. Much as I like Jess, I can't say the same for her brother. After making a pass at me, he had the nerve to criticize my father for being a womanizer."
"Why should that bother you? You have the same opinion of Brice, don't you?" Jason asked probingly. "It seems to me you're saying you can criticize your father, but you don't want anyone else to. Is that it?"
Katherine frowned thoughtfully. "Yes, I guess that's it," she admitted at last. "Odd, isn't it? I wonder what it means."
"You know exactly what it means," Jason said flatly, without elaborating. Then, suddenly, lines of strain appeared around his mouth; his arm left her waist and, cupping her elbow, he inclined his head toward the open French doors they had been dancing next to. "Let's walk out on the balcony for a minute."
Katherine went reluctantly, dread mounting in her as she watched his expression grow more grim. Certain he was going to take up yesterday's argument where it had left off, she was tempted to tear free of the hand holding her arm and flee. She was very much afraid she might burst into tears if he hurled any more insults at her. Inexplicably, his opinion of her mattered and she had lain awake most of last night, unable to sleep as the unpleasant remarks they had made to each other reverberated incessantly in her head. Now, she knew there was only one way to avoid renewing the argument tonight. She would have to stop it before it had a chance to even begin.
"About yesterday, Jason," she began, reaching out to touch his forearm with hesitant fingers, then dropping her hand away when he tensed. Hurt more than she should have been by his obvious rejection, she turned to gaze at the lake, its mirror surface shimmering in the light of a full, cream-colored moon. "I just wanted to tell you," she continued finally, "that I know I over-reacted yesterday afternoon and I… I said things I really didn't mean."
Jason's hands spanned her waist, turning her back to face him and his answering smile was both mocking and gentle. "Are you saying you suddenly approve of my lifestyle?"
"Well, no, I still don't understand why you want to be a professional gambler, but I'm sure you're right. My lack of understanding stems from my feelings toward my father. But I didn't mean it when I called you a little boy—you don't seem childishly selfish like most other gamblers I've met. So I'm sorry I got all in a huff and said you were a little boy."
"Apology accepted," he murmured, moving closer to her, silhouetted in the shaft of moonlight behind him. "And I must confess I don't consider you a little girl, either."
"Yes, you do," Katherine said unhappily. "You think I act like a child and it irritates you."
He shook his head. "No, it's just that you remind me of my wife."
"Wife?" Katherine gasped weakly, all the strength suddenly draining from her limbs. "You… you mean you're married?"
"Was married. I should have said ex-wife," Jason explained calmly. "Since I haven't remarried since we divorced, I guess I still think of her as my wife. And in some ways, Kit, you remind me of her."
This conversation was becoming more dreadfully disturbing with each passing second and Katherine swallowed with difficulty. "You mean I look like her?"
"Not at all. She was tall and dark, nothing like you. But she was young, Kit, and inflexible in her views, maybe even more inflexible than you are. She didn't approve of my… profession, thought it was a waste of time. And I had no patience with her when she started in on me so… well, suffice it to say, neither of us contested the divorce. We should never have married in the first place. We were both too young."
"And you think I act as young and immature as she did?" Katherine murmured bleakly. "Is that what you're saying?"
"No, not quite. I think you'll probably change, become less inflexible in time, but Denise wasn't capable of change. She's still the same now as she was when we married, as far as I know. Luckily, she found an accountant to marry, who could provide her with a secure, moderately high income, a fashionable house in the suburbs of Denver and very probably the statistically correct two and two-thirds children. So I guess she's as happy now as she ever could be. She feels safe with all those tangible symbols of security."
"I don't think that's the kind of security I want," Katherine defended herself weakly. "I just want some emotional security because… well, I guess because my father never provided any."
Jason squeezed her slender waist gently. "I'm beginning to understand that, Kit," he murmured, then brought one hand up to tug at the knot of his dark blue tie. Oddly, his fingers were shaking and as he turned into the light, Katherine could see perspiration beaded on his forehead.
She moved closer to him, intuitively pressing the back of her fingers against his forehead, gasping softly as his skin burned the coolness of hers. "Jason, you're so hot! I think you have a fever. What's wrong? Do you know? Why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling well?"
"It's nothing. At least it's nothing that won't be gone in a few days," he vaguely explained. But when she frowned worriedly up at him, he gave her a weak smile. "Don't give me that Florence Nightingale look, Kit. It's really nothing serious. I picked up this exotic tropical disease in Viet Nam and it recurs occasionally. But the symptoms never last more than a couple of days."
He never ceased surprising her. "I didn't know you were ever in Viet Nam."
"There's a great deal you don't know about me, Kit," he replied. Then, unfastening the top button of his shirt, he shook his head. "I think maybe I should call it a day."
"Of course you should," she chided, concern evident in her voice. "I don't even know why you're here tonight. You should be home in bed. Would you like for me to drive you to your house?"
Shaking his head, he guided her back into the dimly lighted room where they had danced. "No, thanks. You have a date, remember? And I feel well enough to take myself home and put myself to bed after I drive Julie to her apartment."
Julie. The statuesque blonde, no doubt, Katherine thought, jealousy surging through her again. Maybe the gorgeous Julie would even volunteer to go home with him and stay all night. Katherine was certain he wouldn't object. Since he obviously had no desire to accept her own offer to help, there wasn't much else she could do. She inclined her head in a curt nod. "I hope you'll be feeling better tomorrow," she said stiffly. "See you later, I guess." Then, after muttering a hasty good-night, she threaded her way between the dancing couples back to the table where Brad sat glowering as he waited for her.
Three days later, Katherine tiptoed up the stairs to the loft-like second floor in Jason's house where his bedroom was located. In this modified A-frame there were two bedrooms upstairs, a large master suite and a small guest room, both opening into a hall that overlooked the great room. Balancing a tray on one arm, Katherine quietly opened the door, frowning disapprovingly when she caught Jason standing by a bookcase, clad in only a short terry cloth bathrobe.
"What are you doing up?" she asked in her most authoritative voice. "The doctor said you should stay in bed for at least two more days, so get right back in there. If you want a book to read, I'll get it for you."
"You've turned into a real tyrant. You know that, don't you?" he grumbled half-heartedly as he sat down on top of the covers, resting back against the headboard. "I think you enjoy having this chance to boss me around. I suppose you were disappointed when I slept most of the past two days—you couldn't tell me what to do."
"I wasn't here during the day," she countered, setting the tray on the bedside table. "Your housekeeper kept her eye on you then
. I just stayed the nights so she could rest, Somebody had to. When I came over here Saturday morning to check on you, you certainly weren't in any condition to be left alone for a moment. But I bet you don't remember that, do you?"
Shaking his head, Jason grinned mischievously. "While I was in such a weakened condition, were you ever tempted to take advantage of me, Kit?"
"Don't be silly," she retorted. When her cheeks colored attractively and he chuckled, she wrinkled her nose at him, then picked up the tray again. "Now, do you feel like eating without my help or would you like me to feed you this soup?"
He groaned, raising his eyes heavenward. "Not that chicken soup again. Come on, Kit, give me a break. Much more of that stuff and I'll start sprouting wings."
"This happens to be beef consommé," she informed him haughtily. "And if you're well enough to wander around your room, you're well enough to feed yourself."
"I was wandering back to bed from taking a shower and shaving. I thought you'd appreciate the fact that I was trying to look devilishly handsome for you," he said mockingly. Unfolding the legs of the lap tray, he set it down and, without warning, reached out and caught her hand in his. "But if you don't sit down and talk to me while I eat this so-called lunch, I'll think I wasted all that effort."
Katherine hesitated, chewing her lower lip. Until today, she hadn't felt self-conscious being here because he had been too feverish to really be aware of her presence. But now that he seemed well on the road to recovery, the circumstances had changed. She was too aware of the intimacy of the situation. Her gaze traveled involuntarily along the muscular length of his legs. Very probably, he had nothing on besides that short terry cloth robe. And they were alone in the house, alone in his bedroom. Common sense told her she would be crazy to stay, especially with him in such a provocatively teasing mood. Her free hand fluttered up in a gesture of uncertainty.
"I should go down and straighten the kitchen," she said almost inaudibly. "Your maid's off today so…"
"The kitchen can wait. Sit down, Kit," he commanded seriously, his dark eyes holding hers. Dropping her hand, he picked up the spoon and took a cautious sip of the steaming consommé. And when she still remained standing, his dark eyebrows lifted. "Can't you be cooperative for once? Sit down and talk to me while I eat this insipid stuff. Tell me when I can start having something decent to eat."
"Soon," she answered evasively. "Remember the old adage? 'Feed a cold; starve a fever.'"
"I thought that was the other way around."
Grinning at him, she shrugged and sat down. "Well, maybe it is starve a cold and feed a fever. I'm not sure now."
"Some nurse you are," he muttered, sipping another spoonful of the consommé, grimacing as he did so. "Now, seriously, when did the doctor say I could get out of bed?"
"Twenty-four hours after your temperature drops back down to normal." Half-standing, Katherine laid her hand against his forehead. "Umm, you feel much cooler, but I'm sure the doctor will want a thermometer reading to be sure you're not still running a low-grade fever." As she smiled down at him, she suddenly became aware of a certain look in his eyes that made her drop her hand away hastily and subside back on her chair. Avoiding his gaze, she nervously pleated the folds of her yellow combed cotton sundress with her fingers. "So you may be able to get up and move around more tomorrow. Okay? Think you can stand to wait that long?"
Jason smiled sheepishly. "I guess I'm not being a model patient, am I? Sorry, Kit."
She dismissed his apology with a wave of her hand, but her expression was very serious. "When I came here Saturday and realized how sick you were, I wanted to call your family but of course you've never told me anything about them so I couldn't. I don't mean to be nosy, but you do have family somewhere, don't you?"
"My parents and a sister, all in Maine," he said, smiling affectionately. "But I'm glad you couldn't call them. My mother would have gotten all in a dither if she'd known I was sick, even though she realizes this fever recurs every two or three years."
"Do you see them often? Are you close to them?"
"As close as most thirty-three-year-old men are to their families, I suppose," he answered, frowning slightly. "Why all the questions, Kit?"
"I guess I am nosy," she admitted, smiling rather shyly. "Or just mystified. You're such a mystery to everybody in Tahoe. No one knows anything about you. Is… is there some reason why you don't want them to?"
Jason laughed. "I wasn't aware I was arousing such curiosity. But no, Kit, I'm not hiding some deep, dark secret from my past. I simply don't tell my life history to everybody I meet."
"You're such a strange man," Katherine blurted out indiscreetly, pink color flooding her cheeks as he laughed again. "I mean, I don't know what to expect of you, ever. You're not really the kind of person I assumed you would be. You… you confuse me completely."
His lids lowered halfway over his dark blue eyes. "Do I, Kit? I certainly don't mean to." He handed her the tray containing the now empty bowl, his intent gaze following her as she took it and placed it on the table. When she started to sit down again, he caught both her hands in his and drew her down beside him on the edge of the bed. "Tell me how I can make you feel less confused."
"I—I don't know how," she murmured, her pulses pounding frantically in her temples. Unable to look away from him, she searched his lean, brown face for some clue as to what sort of mood he was truly in at that moment.
But since he was a gambler, she supposed he had learned long ago how to disguise his emotions because even as she surveyed him intently, his expression was unreadable. She shifted nervously on the bed's edge, nearly unable to withstand the mesmerizing gaze that captured and held hers. As she realized her fingers ached to entangle in his thick sun-streaked hair, she wondered what was happening to her. It almost seemed as if Jason had become the focal point of her life and it was frightening. No other man had ever permeated her every thought the way he did now. Even in her sleep, when she dreamed, Jason was there and when she awoke every morning, her first conscious thought was of him. It was crazy. She was losing too much of herself to him, especially since his interest in her wasn't in any way serious. Remembering again that she was a fool to be alone in his bedroom with him, she tried to free her hands from his. Her eyes widened with surprise and some fear as his grip on her tightened.
"I have to go," she whispered, shaking her head as he relentlessly pulled her to him. "Jason, please, I should leave."
"Not yet," he whispered back, enfolding her in his arms. "Not quite yet, Kit."
"But you're ill," she protested, holding herself stiffly against his chest. "You need to rest."
"I'd rather do this," he murmured, his breath stirring a tendril of auburn-gold hair across her temple, He removed the ribbon that secured her braid, combing his long, lean fingers through the gently waving strands. "Your hair's so soft, like pure silk."
"Jason." She sighed, reluctantly relaxing against him as his strong fingers grazed her nape, melting all resistance. He lowered her to the bed, moving with her, pressing her slender body beneath the comforting weight of his. Lost in the fiery blue depths of his eyes, Katherine lifted her arms around his shoulders, concealing her own eyes beneath the thick fringe of her long lashes. With a sharply indrawn breath, she felt his lips seek the warm hollow at the base of her throat, then graze upward to her wildly beating pulse.
Her small, trembling fingers feathered over the tendons of his neck and she found delight in the ragged tenor of his breathing that accompanied her tentative, inexperienced caress. Her eyes closed completely. The world swirled around her. As he lowered the straps of her dress, baring her shoulders to his light teasing kisses, she trembled as a burning desire threatened to consume her. Lost in the pleasurable sensations his touch evoked, she wanted nothing more than to stay in his bed with him forever. Beyond thought, she slipped her hands beneath the lapels of his robe, her nails catching in the fine dark hair matting his chest.
Whispering her name, Jason lifte
d his head, catching her small chin between his thumb and forefinger. A slight pressure exerted by his thumb was all that was needed to entice her lips apart and the eagerness conveyed by her tender bow-shaped mouth was more than he could resist. His lips descended violently, their hard searching strength ravishing the softly textured warmth of hers.
Delight raced through her. She arched her slender body against him. Beneath his robe, her searching hands feathered across his lean sides, then linked tightly over his broad, powerful back, urging him closer. His knee pressed between hers and as their legs tangled, he wound the tousled thickness of her hair around his hand, tilting her head back as he blazed a fiery trail of kisses along the creamy length of her slender neck.
"I can't leave you alone," he muttered huskily in her ear. "I've tried, but I just can't." He turned over onto his side, taking her with him. He slowly lowered the zipper of her dress and with swift expertise draped it down around her hips. His fingers brushed aside the swirling hair that cascaded down to cover her breasts.
She felt his burning gaze on her bared skin. Opening drowsy eyes, she watched his brown fingers stroke her alabaster breasts, moving slowly up the full throbbing roundness to trace exquisite circles around the aroused rose-tinted peaks. Anticipation mounted unbearably as he slowly lowered his head. His mouth sought first one satin-textured tip, then the other, his teeth nibbling gently until her senses were swimming and she was aching for the satisfaction of total surrender.
She explored the contours of his ears, his neck, his corded shoulders with trembling fingers as the tip of his tongue, brushing with moist warmth over her taut, surging nipples, created wild pulsating waves that rippled deep within her, less frightening than they were irresistible. Yet even as she never wanted to lose the touch of his lips on forbidden skin, she needed his mouth against hers again. Tangling her fingers in his thick vital hair, she urged him to lift his head. "Kiss me." She sighed softly and as he did, she wrapped her arms around his neck, matching his passion as she strained against the powerful length of his lean, aroused body.
