Her bed was king-size with big, heavy wooden posts connected by a headboard and footboard of metal fashioned into an intricate pattern of flowers and leaves. The bedding was white, except for the spread, which was a light green and matched the color of the walls. The room was feminine, but not frilly. Classic. Understated. Elegant.
A large round pillow covered in a green plaid material rested at the foot of the bed. After sniffing his bed, Oxford scratched the surface as if digging for bones, then circled the pillow several times. Once finished with the ritual, he flopped down and curled into a ball.
Hunter placed his Ruger P-95 on the nightstand. He turned back the spread and top sheet, then stood there staring at the bed. Manda's bed. He had to be out of his mind to put himself in such a position. He should do what he'd done before in situations like this and slept on the floor or even in a chair. Never in his career as a Dundee agent had he slept in the bed with a client. But Manda was no ordinary client. And that posed a major problem. She was his best friend's sister. And she was a woman whose image had haunted him over the years. He'd even married a Manda look-alike. Manda had once represented all he thought he wanted. Even now, knowing how hollow and meaningless money and social position were if they were all you had, he couldn't shake the notion that Manda was the ideal woman. Beautiful. Smart. Classy. And loving.
Idiot! Hunter berated himself. You don't know the real Manda. How could you, since you've been with her for only a week. You thought you knew Selina, too, didn't you? Boy, did she have you fooled. Don't let Manda's pretty facade trick you into thinking she's so damn perfect.
Hunter turned off the overhead light, but left both bedside lamps burning; then he got into bed, rested his head on the large, fluffy pillow and pulled the covers up to mid-chest. If he were lucky, he might get a little sleep tonight. But it was damn difficult to sleep with a hard-on, and he knew that the minute Manda crawled into bed beside him, he wouldn't be able to prevent the inevitable. Suddenly he heard water running into the garden tub and the image of a naked Manda flashed through his mind. Damn! He'd never forgotten the sight of her standing in front of him that day by the pool, her large, firm breasts a temptation no mortal man should have been asked to resist.
His sex grew hard and heavy. She wasn't even in bed with him yet, and he was already fully aroused. Just thinking about her had been enough to get him primed and ready.
Hunter tossed and turned. Think about something else. Baseball. Cars. Fishing. Anything but Manda and the fact that she's going to come through that door, walk across the room and get into bed with you.
* * *
Manda stayed in the tub until the water turned cold and her fingers and toes wrinkled like prunes. She couldn't stay in the bathroom all night, but the alternative unnerved her. The very thought of sleeping in the same bed as Hunter conjured up all sorts of sexual images. And every one of them involved him being totally naked. Shivers rippled through her, and she wasn't quite sure if they were caused by the cool bathwater or the vision inside her head of a nude Hunter.
Damn! Enough procrastinating. You know Hunter isn't lying there in your bed naked and aroused, just waiting to jump on you.
Hunter was wearing pajamas, and since she'd stayed in the bathroom for such a long time, it was possible that he was already asleep. And the bed was large, very large. So there was absolutely no reason why the two of them should brush up against each other during the night. But what if they did? What if she accidentally rolled over and into him? What if he flung one of his big arms over her while he slept?
She was borrowing trouble and there was no need to do that. She had enough real problems without dreaming up more. Hunter wasn't here in Dearborn, in her house—in her bed!—to destroy her, but to save her. He was part of Perry's grand "Save Manda" scheme. And if she hadn't had that silly teenage crush on Hunter, if he wasn't the man by which she had measured all other men since she was sixteen, then lying beside him tonight would be a lot easier. But this was Hunter. Her Hunter. The guy she'd mooned over, fantasized about, tried to seduce and sworn to God that she would love until the day she died. How many women got to go to bed with the object of their first teenage infatuation?
Manda forced herself to get out of the tub. After drying off, she followed her nightly ritual and covered her skin with a scented lotion and dusted herself lightly with scented powder. As she turned to lift her gown from the back of the vanity chair, she caught a glimpse of herself in the wall-wide mirror. Her face was faintly flushed and her nipples were slightly puckered. A tingling sensation radiated upward from the core of her femininity. Thinking about Hunter had always aroused her, even when she'd been a teenager and knew very little about sexual reaction to an attractive, desirable man.
Stop thinking about Hunter that way. Not now, not tonight. She grabbed her gown, slipped it over her head and slid her feet into her house slippers. Reaching up, she removed the clip from her hair and let it fall down and around her shoulders. After taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders, grabbed the doorknob and turned off the bathroom light. When she emerged from the safe haven of her bath, she found both bedside lamps burning and Hunter fighting with his pillow. His big fist thrust into the downy softness, then he doubled the pillow and burrowed his head into it. The sheet and spread covered him from his feet to just below his waist, but his chest and arms were bare. Manda stopped and stared at him while he wasn't aware of her presence. Or was he? He'd suddenly stopped moving and lay on his back, still and quiet, his gaze focused on the ceiling.
The man was huge. Built like the linebacker he'd been in high school and college. Massive shoulders and arms. Broad chest. Washboard-lean belly. And impressive muscles. His skin was naturally dark, as if he had a perpetual tan. All of her feminine instincts urged her on, telling her that this was a prime specimen, an alpha male with whom she should mate. The primitive part of her nature recognized him as a male who was capable of taking care of her and any children she might bear him.
Get a grip, girl, Manda warned herself. You're teetering on the edge and if you don't hang on tight, you're going to fall hard.
"Are you coming to bed or are you going to stand there staring at me all night?" Hunter asked, but he didn't move a muscle.
"Oh. Sorry." She walked over to the bed, kicked off her slippers, shoved back the covers and got in. "I'm not accustomed to having a man in my bed. You'll have to excuse me for taking a few minutes to get used to the idea." She reached over and switched off the lamp. "Are you planning on reading?"
"Huh?"
"You've left your lamp on."
Without replying, he turned off the lamp.
Manda pulled up the covers all the way to her chin. She remained as close to the edge of the wide bed as she could without toppling off, but even with more than an arm's length between them, she felt uncomfortable. Go to sleep, she told herself. All she had to do was close her eyes and pretend he wasn't lying on the other side of the bed. She needed to think about something that didn't involve Hunter. But what? He seemed to have invaded every aspect of her life. Think about work. In the morning she had individual appointments until noon, then after lunch she had two group therapy sessions. And Hunter would drive her to the clinic, spend the day there and drive her home tomorrow night. Even at work, she wouldn't be free of him. Until this plan to capture her tormentor came to a conclusion, she and Hunter were figuratively "joined at the hip."
He certainly was quiet and still. He hadn't so much as twitched since she'd joined him in bed, and she couldn't even hear him breathing. Her first instinct was to turn over and look at him, to see if he was still lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling. But common sense warned her to do nothing to arouse the beast.
Minutes ticked by as she lay there, her eyes closed, her mind repeatedly telling her to go to sleep. But the harder she tried to rest, the more tense she became. And her body ached from lying in one position for so long. Sooner or later she would have to move. But she'd make it later, when she f
elt more certain that Hunter was asleep.
Suddenly he moved. He flopped over onto his side, shaking the bed with the turn. She held her breath, wondering if he had turned toward her and was now lying closer. If she reached for him, would she be able to touch him? Her fingers itched to find out. Common sense won out over curiosity. Instead of reaching for him, she opened her eyes. The room lay in darkness, except for the faint moonlight that shimmered through the widows facing the river. She saw the shadowed outline of his big body. He lay with his back to her. She sighed with relief. Now that he had made the first move and turned away from her, she could move, too. She promptly turned her back to him.
She cuddled into the pillow, then bent her knees and curled into a fetal position. Sleep, damn it, she told herself. But sleep wouldn't come. Time passed. How much she wasn't sure. Finally she stole a glance at the lighted digital clock on her nightstand. Eleven forty-five. She'd been in bed nearly an hour and was still wide awake.
"What's wrong?" Hunter asked. "Can't you sleep?"
Manda jerked, gasped and clutched her chest, then shot straight up in bed. "My heavens, you scared me to death. I thought you were asleep."
He rolled over so that he faced her. "We have a problem, don't we?"
"Uh-huh."
"Neither of us is used to sleeping with someone else."
"I've never shared a bed with anyone in my entire life," she admitted.
"Never?"
"Never."
"What about with Rodney or with Mike?" he asked.
"Mike and I didn't have that sort of relationship," she said. "Naturally, once we were married, we would have slept together."
"Mmm-hmm. Surely you and Rodney—"
"I was away at college part of the time and when I was here in Dearborn, I lived at home. You know Grams would never have approved of a man staying over and sleeping in my bed."
"What about his place? Surely you stayed over with him occasionally, at least part of a night."
Her love life—or lack thereof—with her former fiancés was really none of Hunter's business. She certainly had no intention of telling him that she was, technically, still a virgin. He probably wouldn't believe her even if she did tell him. Not many people would believe that such a thing as a thirty-three-year-old virgin actually existed.
"Rodney lived at home with Claire and Chris," Manda said. "And Claire is as old-fashioned as Grams."
"You two must have gotten tired of making out in the back seat of his car."
"Mmm—hmm."
She and Rodney had made out in the front seat as well as the back. They had kissed, touched, fondled, petted and relieved their sexual tension in every way possible, except intercourse. After he'd been killed in the car crash, she had regretted that they had decided to wait until after they were married to consummate their love. If only she had known that they would never have a wedding night, that she would be left to live on without him.
After she had gone through the mourning process, through every stage of grieving, she hadn't dated much. Guilt had tormented her any time she had become the least bit interested in a man. Her heart had still belonged to Rodney. How could she betray him with someone else? The few occasions when she'd been sexually attracted to a man, she had felt disloyal to Rodney. She supposed that was one reason she had felt comfortable with Mike from the very beginning. She hadn't felt any strong sexual attraction to him. And they had discussed their mutual feelings of guilt and worked through them together. They would have married, been friends and he could have gone on loving Chassie and she Rodney.
She was a woman who wanted a man, needed a man. In her life and in her bed. She yearned for marriage and children, for the kind of life others took for granted. But this strong sexual chemistry between Hunter and her wasn't something she wanted. Nor was the renewed emotional attachment she had once felt for him. She could never love him. Never open herself up for that kind of pain again.
When Hunter reached out and clutched her arm, she gasped and jumped.
"Calm down. I'm not going to attack you."
"I know you aren't."
"I'll tell you what I think we should do."
"What?"
"I think we should give ourselves permission to relax." He ran his hand up her arm, stopping at her shoulder. "You're awfully tense." He massaged her shoulder. "I promise that I'm not going to do anything to you that you don't want me to do."
That didn't soothe her rioting nerves at all. Doing what she wanted him to do would be enough to set the sheets on fire. Manda could not deny her desire to be with Hunter, to give herself to a man for whom she cared. And she did care for Hunter. She always had and probably always would. She didn't have to love him to have sex with him. And he didn't have to love her. There was no reason they couldn't be together without their relationship being some life-altering grand passion.
"What do you suggest we do?" she asked, then held her breath, waiting for his answer.
"I think I should scoot a little closer." Which he did. "And then I should slip my arm around you." Which he did. "And you should cuddle up against me." Which she did. "There. Isn't that better?"
"I guess so."
"You're in my arms. We're in bed together. And you're perfectly safe. This is the most that's going to happen between us tonight, so you and I can both relax and get some sleep."
"And that's all there is to it, huh?"
"Close your eyes, brat, and see what happens."
* * *
Hunter lay there half awake and half asleep, partially aroused and yet strangely content to simply hold Manda in his arms. She had finally drifted off to sleep over an hour ago. He wondered what she had thought would happen between them. What had she wanted to happen? He believed that he understood women pretty well. Good women, bad women and all those in between. He knew when a woman wanted him. And Manda did want him. But he sensed that she was afraid of that basic human need—sex.
Was she still in love with Rodney Austin, after all this time? In a way, the thought that she'd never gotten over her former fiancé bothered him, and yet in another way knowing her love and loyalty was that abiding made him wish that someone cared for him half as much.
Manda was a woman meant to be loved and cherished and adored. Fate had given her a raw deal. But once this person—whoever he was—made a mistake and revealed himself, then his hold over Manda's life would come to an end. She'd be free. Free to live as she chose. Free to love and marry and have children. She deserved to be happy, and he intended to do everything in his power to give her that chance.
Fifteen minutes later he drifted off to sleep still thinking about Manda.
* * *
The ringing telephone woke her. As she came awake, she realized that she was using Hunter's chest as a pillow and that their legs were entangled. When she pulled away from him and reached out for the phone, he roused and grumbled.
Still lying in bed, she lifted the receiver and put it to her ear. "Hello?" she mumbled drowsily.
"Manda, you're being a bad girl." The voice was slow and muffled. Disguised. As if the message had been recorded and was now being played back at low speed. "I'll have to punish you. Unless you break your engagement, I'll be forced to kill Hunter." Manda jerked straight up into a sitting position. "Is that what you want, to be responsible for the death of another man?"
As she clutched the phone with white-knuckled pressure, she gulped in a deep breath. Fear shook her, creating tremors through her body.
Hunter lunged up and over, grabbed the phone out of her hand and said, "Who the hell is this?"
Manda heard the hum of the dial tone as Hunter reached around her and laid the receiver back on its base. He grabbed her shoulders. She looked into his eyes. With her mouth sucking in air and shivers racking her body, she couldn't speak.
"Was it him?" Hunter asked.
She nodded her head.
"Did you recognize his voice?"
She shook her head.
"Was his voic
e disguised in some way?"
She nodded again, then began shaking harder and knew she was on the verge of hyperventilating. Hunter shook her soundly. She cried out, putting a voice to her pain and fear. Desperately needing Hunter's comfort and strength, she flung herself at him.
As if he understood what she wanted, he lifted her up and onto his lap. Then he wrapped his arms around her while whispering her name and caressing her back.
"Shh-hh, Manda. It's all right. I'm here. You're safe. I'm safe. He can't hurt either of us," Hunter assured her. "He was trying to frighten you, to make you bend to his will. But you aren't going to let him win. Not this time."
Hunter sounded so confident, so sure. She wanted to believe him.
And she did. Almost. "He said that unless I broke my engagement to you, he'd be forced to kill you."
"No one is going to kill me," Hunter told her, all the while holding her, caressing her, his lips brushing against her temple. "Remember that I'm the cavalry to the rescue. We're going to catch that son of a bitch. Do you hear me?"
Manda nodded, but didn't reply. Fear clutched her heart. Just the thought that something might happen to Hunter was unbearable.
Continuing to hold Manda on his lap, Hunter reached over and lifted the phone. "There's a number here on the caller ID. I'll call the police and have them run a check on it."
A mixture of numbness and anxiety claimed Manda as she sat quietly while Hunter contacted the local authorities, but she sensed that her stalker was too smart to give himself away so easily. The police weren't going to be able to catch this man. And despite Hunter's self-confidence, all Manda could think about was the possibility that Hunter might die because of her. Just like Rodney and Mike had.
The minute Hunter ended his conversation with the police, he reached out to grasp Manda's face. But she pulled away and scooted out of his arms, then hopped out of bed.
She glared at him, then all but screamed, "I will not be responsible for the death of another man I care about!"
WHITELAW'S WEDDING Page 9
