“Oh God, as if things weren’t bad enough, here comes Jarrell,” Emery said with a groan. “She’s heading directly for our table.”
Courtney stifled a groan of her own. He’d articulated her own thoughts exactly. They had already exchanged perfunctory hellos with Jarrell Harcourt earlier, and the woman had made no attempt to conceal her antipathy toward her brother’s date. But here she was again, tall, slim and blond, her thick, straight hair styled in a classic bob. She was unsmiling, of course. As far as Courtney could tell, Jarrell Harcourt did not possess the ability to smile.
Jarrell joined them, taking a seat next to her brother, turned her back to Courtney and proceeded to converse with him. No one else came near the table, and Courtney, shut out of the Harcourts’ conversation, sat in silence. Ten minutes crawled by, then fifteen. She sighed.
And then, just when she had decided that the interminable evening had reached its nadir, it took a definite turn for the worse.
For a moment, Courtney thought she was hallucinating. That couldn’t be Connor McKay and Kieran Kaufman, in black tuxes and looking for all the world as if they belonged in this elite crowd, who were crossing the wide expanse of the ballroom. Heading directly toward the table where she and the Harcourts sat.
Courtney froze. She balled her hands into tight fists but barely felt her nails digging into her palms. Horror of horrors, it was McKay and Kaufman! And their elegant attire aside, the unholy grins on their faces were alarming testimony to the fact that they were up to no good.
“Uh, excuse me,” Courtney mumbled and rose from the table. The dangerous duo were at least twelve feet away; if she moved swiftly she had enough time to intercept them before they reached the Harcourts.
“Hello, Gypsy.” Connor’s sea-green eyes slid lazily over her as she approached them.
Courtney was wearing an elegant peacock-blue silk dress that was cut in modest, classic lines and was not the least bit gypsylike. Her dark eyes smoldered. “What are you doing here?”
“I guess you wouldn’t believe that we were invited? That we’re old golfing buddies of Hop’s?” drawled Connor.
“I most certainly would not. You crashed this party!” “Bingo!” Kaufman exclaimed.
Courtney sent him a scathing glance, then turned to Connor again. “Why did you crash the party?” A dreadful thought struck her. “Surely not to—to see me?”
“I told you we needed to talk tonight,” Connor replied, shrugging. “Since you insisted on being here, it was only logical that we hold our meeting here. Although I can’t say much for the surroundings.” He glanced around him, his expression disapproving. “Trapping those poor birds and ’ shutting them up in cages so these society geeks can gawk at them..He shook his head. “I know a few diehard animal rights activists. Maybe I should give them a call and alert them to this abuse.”
“Get than and their pickets over here right away,” Kieran said gleefully. “I’ll call a local news team who is sympathetic to the cause. It might make the news at eleven.”
“No!” cried Courtney. But what was even more horrifying than the thought of a fanatical group of picketers and camera crew crashing the party was the fact that Connor McKay had just spoken the very thoughts she’d been harboring all evening about those poor captive birds. She did not want to be so psychically attuned to him!
“How did you know I was here?” she demanded nervously.
The two men looked at each other, then back at her. “It’s part of my job to track people down, Gypsy,” Connor explained with a patient air that she found extremely irritating. “I’ve traced reclusive celebrities who cover their trails with professional expertise, and I’ve traced politicians holed up with women who were most definitely not their wives, to
mention just a few cases. Locating you was a kindergarten exercise.”
“Hey, who’s the blond babe sitting at your table?” Kieran asked, surveying the crowd with his weasel-sharp eyes.
Courtney actually smiled. “That’s Jarrell Harcourt. And I’m willing to bet that’s the first time in her life she’s ever been referred to as a ‘babe.’ ”
Kaufman stared, assessing the woman. “Hmm. Looks tense and humorless—but sexy in a snobbish, aristocratic kind of way. Desperately needs to get laid, I wager. Well, this is her lucky night. I’m going to blitzkrieg her. She’ll never know what hit her until she wakes up tomorrow morning in my bed.” He headed purposefully toward the table.
“Blitzkrieg?” Courtney echoed, staring after him.
Connor wrapped his fingers around her wrist, effectively manacling her. “It’s no use trying to stop him, Gypsy. Kaufman is like a guided missile—once fired, nothing can deflect him from his trajectory.”
“Oh, I wasn’t going to try to stop him,” Courtney said dryly. “If there were ever two people in the world who deserved to meet, it’s those two.”
“Wicked, Gypsy.” Connor grinned. His eyes narrowed as he followed Kaufman’s progress to the Harcourt’s table. “I take it that’s your boyfriend, the inestimable Emery, sitting there?”
“That’s Emery,” Courtney agreed, not bothering to correct his misassumption. It seemed wiser—and safer—not to.
“He’s kind of pale. Is he anemic?”
“Not that I know of.”
“He’s not exactly the life of the party, is he? In fact, he looks so morose he could hire himself out as a professional mourner at funerals.”
It was an unfortunately astute observation, but loyalty to poor unhappy Emery kept Courtney from agreeing. “I’m not going to stand here and listen to you rip Emery to shreds. He doesn’t deserve it. And I’d like my hand back, if you don’t mind.” She tried to pull her wrist out of his grip, to no avail. It was like trying to shake off a locked handcuff.
“I was simply stating a few facts about Master Emery, not attacking his undoubtedly sterling character,” Connor said coolly. He released her wrist. The way she leapt to Har-court’s defense was annoying. The fact that he found it annoying was even worse. His lips thinned into a straight line. “But we’ve wasted enough time—we have to discuss our visit to Nollier’s office tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Courtney repeated. Her dark eyes widened. “I didn’t realize we’d start so soon.”
“The sooner the better,” he said briskly. “I called Nollier’s office this afternoon and set up an appointment for tomorrow at one. His secretary put me through to him and I spoke to him personally. He said to prepare to leave for Shadyside Falls after our meeting tomorrow afternoon.” “Tomorrow?” Courtney echoed incredulously. “But Kaufman said couples went to Shadyside Falls weeks or months after their initial visit.”
Connor shrugged. “Nollier said our timing is incredibly lucky.” He smiled a shark’s smile. “And it is, but not for him.”
Courtney gulped. “I—I’ll have to make arrangements with my boss to spend time away from the office.”
“Will that be a problem?”
“No.” She shook her head. “But do you really think that we should rush into this? I mean, we only decided to do it today and—”
“In the immortal words of Kieran Kaufman, ‘Fools rush in, etcetera.’ ” Connor’s voice lowered. “Getting cold feet, Gypsy? Maybe you can’t trust yourself to play the role of my wife without wanting to—”
“Don’t say it!” Courtney said hotly. “Don’t even think it!”
Connor laughed, his earlier irritation dissolving as he gazed into the fiery dark depths of her eyes. She amused him, excited him as no woman ever had. And tonight, his trusty bachelor alarm failed to sound. He felt cocky and dangerous, he felt like taking a few risks.
“Let’s go out on the terrace and talk all about tomorrow, Courtney.” He took a step toward her.
Courtney took a step back. She had seen the long terrace that lined the outside of the ballroom when she’d arrived with Emery. It was dark, lit only by the moon and stars. And it was secluded. A couple could be completely alone
and unobserved
out there____
She took another step backward. Her eyes met Connor’s and a slow smile crossed his face.
“Keep walking, Gypsy.” He provided the necessary incentive by walking toward her. “Just keep on going. The terrace is only a couple hundred steps away.”
Four
She could always stop moving, Courtney thought, even as she kept backing up. The problem with that plan, however, was that Connor didn’t give any indication that he would stop coming toward her. If she were to stop, it appeared in all likelihood that he would crash right into her.
“I’m not going to let you bully me,” she announced, while walking backward at a rather hasty clip.
“Good for you. I like a woman who stands up for herself.”
He was bullying her and mocking her. Once again Courtney felt her temper, usually so even, so mild and easy to control, begin to rise to flaring heights. “I’m going to stand still, right here, right now,” she announced sharply.
She stopped moving and stood stock-still. To her delight, Connor stopped too. Proud of herself, Courtney shot him a triumphant look.
Connor shrugged. “We can talk here as well as anywhere, Gypsy.”
He appeared completely nonchalant, and Courtney might have been lulled into complacency had she not caught a swift glimpse of the wild, hot and hungry gleam in his eyes.
Her sense of victory faded abruptly. They were standing face-to-face, only a few inches apart. She glanced nervously around at their surroundings; somehow they’d ended up in the thick grove of trees lining the ballroom. They were concealed from the others, though the loud party sounds disrupted the illusion of the primeval forest.
“But first things first,” Connor continued softly, lacing his long fingers through her thick dark hair. He tilted her face up to him at the same moment that his head descended toward her. “This has been simmering between us all day. Let’s get it out of our systems now.”
“Out of our systems?” she echoed. Her mind wasn’t working as quickly as it should. Neither was the rest of her. She should be slapping him away and fleeing this too-private indoor wooded glen. Courtney knew all that, but somehow she remained where she was, which was far too close to Connor McKay.
While she was wondering if she should blame her sudden mental and physical lethargy on the glass of champagne she had consumed earlier this evening, Connor lightly touched his mouth to hers.
The feel of his lips, warm and firm against hers, galvanized her into action. She drew back her head and placed both her hands on his chest, in an attempt to keep him literally at arm’s length. “Stop it, Connor. I know what you’re doing.”
“Mmm, I thought you might.” He wrapped his arms around her, and her elbows flexed from the pressure he exerted to draw her closer to him. Suddenly she was not even a hand’s length away from him.
Courtney drew a sharp breath. She was intensely aware of his size and strength, of the heat of his hard body. For one breathless, insane moment, she felt the urge to lean into all that masculine heat and strength, to relax against him and let him support her...
Quickly she pulled her head back farther, turning her face away from him. “Let me go, Connor.”
Denied her lips, he sought the slender, sensitive curve of her neck and began to nibble. “But I don’t want to let you go, Courtney.”
It annoyed her that he was not taking her refusal or her demand seriously. And she should be far more than annoyed with him, Courtney acknowledged grimly. She should be furiously fighting this type of caveman machismo; at the very least, she ought to be a little afraid of his physical power. But for reasons she didn’t care to delve into, she was neither infuriated nor afraid.
Defensively Courtney scowled up at him. “You’re trying to blitzkrieg me.”
He smiled, a slow, lazy, sexy smile that made her heart turn over. “Bombs away,” he said huskily, and his mouth closed over hers.
In the nick of time Courtney pressed her lips tightly together, effectively denying him access to her mouth’s interior. She heard the muffled sound of frustration he made against her closed mouth and couldn’t help smiling.
Connor lifted his mouth a quarter inch above hers. “Ah, Gypsy, you don’t play fair,” he murmured against her lips, feathering the curve of her mouth with his lips, with the tip of his tongue. “This is supposed to be a blitzkrieg, not a siege.” His hands slid intimately over her body.
Molded against him, Courtney felt the burgeoning pressure of his thighs against her. Her breasts were cushioning the muscular wall of his chest. Maybe she was going to have to cling to him for support after all, for her legs felt almost too weak for her to remain standing.
“Open your mouth for me, Courtney.” Connor’s voice was deep and thick.
His words, bold, intimate and demanding, sent her pulse rate out of control. Sweet, hot rivers of sensation flowed
through her, deep and thrilling. If she were to let go, reason and willpower would be swept away in those seductive currents. The temptation to cede all control, to close her eyes and open her mouth and let him take her over, was almost irresistible.
Alarmingly so. She was just a hairbreadth away from allowing herself to be carried away by a tide of passion, when the shock of surrender set her metaphorically, but firmly, back on high ground.
As an army brat who’d moved from place to place and-friend to friend, she had become independent and self-reliant at an early age. Those character traits, coupled by her strong will and fierce penchant for self-control, did not make it easy for her to acknowledge that she was dangerously close to submission, however sublime it promised to be.
Her dark eyes, heavy-lidded and half-closed, snapped wide open. She stared up at Connor, who was watching her with intense sea-green eyes. He wanted her. There could be no denying the blatant physical evidence of his desire. But she saw more than passion glittering in those beautiful eyes of his—she saw challenge as well. And if she were to melt ' into him and kiss him the way he wanted—the way she wanted him to!—that challenge would be replaced by pure male triumph.
She recognized in that instant that Connor McKay had a will as strong as her own, that his self-control rivaled, maybe even surpassed, hers. For he was not the one on the verge of giving into the heady temptation of passion. He was in full control of himself, of her, and of this premeditated little tryst in the middle of a fake forest.
Courtney stiffened. “Give it up, Connor,’ ’ she said tautly. “It’s not going to work.”
Their faces were so close, their lips an inch apart. When Connor smiled, she could almost feel the warm, full curve of his mouth on hers. She wanted to feel it. Courtney was aghast at just how badly she wanted it.
“Give up now? Why should I, Gypsy? I have you right where I want you—and right where you want to be.”
She was furious, partly with him but mostly with her newly discovered sensual self, who was proving to be an embarrassingly unreliable ally. And she would never admit that his arrogant taunt happened to be the truth.
“Your ego must be the size of Jupiter if you believe that I want to be manhandled in the midst of a bunch of potted trees.” She flung the words at him, seething with temper. “Furthermore, I happen to be here with another man, remember?”
It was about time she remembered that fact, Courtney scolded herself. She’d been so absorbed with Connor, she’d scarcely given poor morose Emery a thought.
Connor frowned. The mere mention of her date sent flames of jealousy roaring through him. And he was not a jealous man!
“You want me,” he growled. “You’re just too stubborn to admit it.”
“I’ll admit that you threw me off balance with your seduction skills. They were quite effective—for a minute or two. Then I recovered.”
“A minute or two?” Connor repeated indignantly. He glared into her upturned, defiant small face. Unfortunately it seemed that she actually had had a complete recovery from the soft, submissive woman she’d been only a few moments ago.
Right before his eyes, she had turned into a sharp-tongued, argumentative termagant. Connor was not pleased with the transformation.
“Are you going to let me go?” She had an older brother and two older stepbrothers; she knew something about threats and intimidation, both making them and not bowing to either.
“No,” Connor replied succinctly.
She knew exactly what to say next. “Then I’ll have to make you let go of me.”
“And how will you do that?” Connor taunted, deliberately tightening his hold on her. A tactical mistake on his part, he silently conceded, for the feel of her softness against him was making his already-fevered blood run even hotter.
“Are you a graduate of one of those feminist self-defense courses?” he murmured mockingly. “What’s your move, Gypsy? Going to deliver a neck-cracking karate chop that’ll leave me rolling on the ground, begging for mercy?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t take one of those courses,” Courtney snapped. He obviously wasn’t going to let her go and now she had to back up her tough words with action. But how? “If I had, I wouldn’t show you any mercy,” she continued with vicarious ruthlessness. “I’d make sure you were—”
“So, no karate chop,” he cut in. “Perhaps you’ll go with a less-sophisticated maneuver like that old classic, the swift knee to the groin?” Before she could attempt to do it, he closed his thighs around hers, immobilizing her—and sending shock waves of erotic sensation through them both.
For a moment they stood still, helpless against the tide of desire and need pulsing through them. Their eyes met and held and neither spoke a word.
He cupped her bottom with his palms and locked her tighter into his body. “You don’t really want to put me out of commission, do you, Gyps?” he whispered against her ear. His tongue traced its delicate shape.
Courtney whimpered. That dangerous, languorous weakness had returned, seeping thickly into her limbs. There was a sharp sweet ache in the pit of her stomach. Being so very close to him, she could feel his body trembling, hear him drawing deep, uneven breaths. Though she didn’t know how or why, she sensed a vulnerability in him that matched her own.
The Baby Track Page 5
