“Oh no you don’t, princess.” Rex’s voice was grim. “You’re not going anywhere until I get to the bottom of this.”
Then, incredibly, she felt her other ankle similarly encircled, and then a strong jerk toppled her backward into the tub! Rex must have released her ankles immediately after that initial yank, for his arms were there to cushion her impact if not her shock as she was immediately immersed in warm, soapy water.
“You’re crazy,” she sputtered, as soon as she could get her breath back. “I’m fully dressed, for heaven’s sake!”
“So you are,” Rex said, studying her now sodden, ruined outfit carelessly. “I’d have waited for you to get out of your clothes and join me, but I doubt if you would have accepted my invitation.”
“You’re damn right I wouldn’t!” she said furiously as she struggled to sit up and release herself from his hold. Rex foiled her attempts with effortless ease, and holding her wrists locked before her, he turned her so that her head was resting on the edge of the tub and her body was facing him in a reclining position.
“Now,” he said lazily, “isn’t this comfy? So much better than you stalking off in icy disdain and me chasing after you, shivering in my birthday suit.”
“Will you let me out of here?” she grated between clenched teeth. She’d discovered in helpless frustration that as long as she remained still her head stayed above water, but any sudden movement resulted in her mouth sinking below the surface.
“Eventually,” Brody said calmly. “But not until you tell me why I’m suddenly number one on your hit list. I gather it has something to do with the necklace. Didn’t you like it?”
“No, I didn’t like it,” she mimicked sourly. “And I didn’t like the clothes and I’m quite sure I will detest the Lotus.”
“I see Scotty has been his usual verbose self.” Rex sighed. “I’d wanted to tell you myself, in my own time.”
“I just bet you did,” she muttered, her eyes blazing violet fire. “No doubt you thought I’d be so grateful I’d jump immediately into your bed. Well, I’m not quite the tart you think me, Rex Brody. You can take your gifts and stuff them!”
Rex’s forehead knotted in a frown, his lips tightening ominously. “You know, I’m really tempted to drown you,” he said conversationally. “What thoroughly unpleasant ideas you get in that beautiful head of yours. I do not think of you as a tart, and those little gifts were not meant as bribes.”
“And how did you expect me to react?” she asked sharply. “Presents on that scale are fairly self-explanatory. You might even say they’re traditional.”
“So you immediately assume I’m trying to buy your favors like some villain in an old-time melodrama,” he growled. “I expected you to have the sense to know I’d never pull a dumb stunt like that. I admit that at times in my past relationships there has been a mutually agreed exchange of commodities, but give me credit for a little insight into your character, Tamara.”
“Then why?” she asked, lifting her chin belligerently. “I hardly think Mr. Oliver is correct and you bought that exorbitantly expensive necklace to go with my eyes!”
There was a curiously sheepish look on Rex’s face as he guiltily admitted, “Well, actually that comes pretty close. The necklace was something of an afterthought. I got to thinking how your eyes looked that night on the terrace after your tears had made them sparkle like jewels. I just thought amethysts would look sort of pretty with them.”
Tamara’s mouth dropped open in amazement. There could be no doubt of the sincerity of Rex’s answer. There had been an almost childlike simplicity in his reply. “And the sports car and the new clothes?” she asked faintly.
He shrugged. “I wanted you to feel comfortable. You’re an exceptionally lovely woman, but the circles you’ll be moving in for the next month are fairly affluent.” His lips twisted cynically. “There will be plenty of women who’ll have their little hatchets sharpened to take the scalp of a gorgeous thing like you. I just thought I’d give you a little extra ammunition. As for the car, it was a form of insurance.”
As she continued to gaze at him uncomprehendingly, he sighed and his dark eyes flickered restlessly. “Look, I know how confining it can be to be in the public eye all the time. Sometimes the restrictions it puts on your personal life are enough to drive you bananas. Your own car gives you at least the illusion of freedom. I was afraid if you didn’t have some outlet, you’d be more likely to cut and run.”
“I see,” she said slowly, biting her lip in perplexity. Incredibly, she did understand Rex’s rather strange reasoning. Looking back at what she’d recently learned of his lifestyle, it would seem perfectly logical to him that she would be as upset by the lack of freedom as he was himself. “But isn’t this particular insurance a trifle extravagant?”
“Perhaps,” he said simply, “but I like giving presents. When I was a kid, we were so dirt poor that neither giving nor receiving presents ever came into the picture. Lord knows I have plenty of money these days, so why shouldn’t I give you something?”
Tamara felt a treacherous ache somewhere in the vicinity of her heart, and she found it hard to swallow. Rex’s simple words evoked a picture of his deprived childhood and for a moment she experienced an almost maternal tenderness. “But you can’t go around giving away sports cars,” she said. “It’s just not done.”
“I was afraid you’d say that,” he said gloomily. “I suppose you won’t take the necklace, either?”
Tamara shook her head silently, her lips curving in a gentle smile. He looked like a disappointed little boy who didn’t understand the insane reasoning of grownups.
“You’ve got to take the clothes,” he argued aggressively, his dark eyes gleaming triumphantly through those almost girlishly long lashes. “How can you protect me from other women if you don’t feel perfectly confident and self-assured?” She shook her head doubtfully and Rex pursued coaxingly, “Besides, I bought them all on sale. The stores won’t take them back.”
Tamara threw back her head and laughed out loud at this outrageous lie. He spoke of the Diors and St. Laurents as if they’d been picked up at a bargain basement jumble sale.
“Lord, but you’ve a lovely throat,” he said suddenly in a husky voice. Reluctantly pulling his gaze away, his eyes lit mischievously. “I’ve got you, haven’t I? You’re going to accept the clothes?”
“On the condition that you’ll allow me to return them when the tour is over,” she agreed hesitantly, wondering at how boyishly pleased he looked at his triumph.
“We’ll see,” he said evasively. “You’re sure you won’t take the necklace?”
“No, I will not take the necklace,” she said firmly, then chuckled helplessly. “Do you realize how totally ridiculous this is? I’m actually lying in a bathtub fully dressed, arguing with you about a dumb necklace.”
“It’s a very pretty necklace,” he defended. Releasing one of her wrists, he groped on the bottom of the tub and triumphantly brought up the glittering piece of jewelry. “If you won’t keep it, you can at least let me see how it looks on you.”
Without waiting for an answer he sat up in the tub, bringing her with him, and swiftly slipped the necklace over her head. It was surprisingly heavy as it lay in the hollow of her breasts and she looked down at it curiously. Her eyes widened with embarrassment and the color flew to her cheeks. Her breasts might just as well have been naked. Her wet peach silk blouse was clinging lovingly to every curve, and the necklace drew immediate attention to the taut sauciness of her nipples boldly outlined beneath the material.
Rex drew in his breath sharply, and her gaze flew to his face. What she saw there caused her own breath to catch in her throat. His eyes were fixed on the wet, clinging blouse and when he murmured hoarsely, “Damn, that’s lovely,” she knew he wasn’t referring to the necklace.
From playful raillery, the moment had changed to one of unbearable intimacy. Tamara could almost touch the current of electricity that was flowing between t
hem and generating a melting languor in her limbs. For the first time since she had marched through the bathroom door, she was fully conscious of Rex’s nudity, of the hard, corded strength of his bronze, virile body that was so different from the satin softness of her own. That he was also experiencing that same violent awareness was evident in the smoky heat of his eyes and the pulse now pounding rapidly in the hollow of his throat.
“No,” she whispered dazedly, pulling her gaze by force from that telltale throbbing, knowing her rejection was not aimed at him so much as her own treacherous body.
“Oh yes, sweetheart,” Rex breathed raggedly. “Definitely yes!” He drew her slowly and carefully into his arms and she gave a little gasp as the warm hardness of his body seemed to sear through her wet clothing as if it were no barrier at all. She felt his body tremble in response as he pressed her head into the rough thatch of hair on his chest. “We’ll have to take it easy, babe.” He groaned. “I want you so badly I’m like a kid with his first woman.”
She didn’t answer, suspended in a sensual euphoria that consisted of the touch of warm, strong muscles and the rough abrasiveness of the springy hair beneath her cheek. His scent surrounded her and she vaguely identified the piney fragrance of soap and the hot musky odor of the aroused male. The combination was wildly erotic and she suddenly had an irresistible desire to indulge one other sense. Her tongue ventured hesitantly to explore the smooth, corded skin and discovered it was faintly salty. The combination of the taste and the tingling sensation on the tip of her tongue at the contact with his hard flesh was breathlessly exciting. She turned her head, rubbing her cheek against his chest like a playful, sensual kitten as her tongue darted out to stroke teasingly at one hard male nipple.
“Lord!” Rex groaned again, and she felt an almost savage satisfaction at the responsive shudder that shook his body. Then she couldn’t think at all as his arms tightened with steely urgency around her, and his mouth swooped down to cover hers in a kiss that wooed and coaxed and tantalized until her lips parted with eager invitation to the invasion of his tongue. She could never remember later how long he explored her lips and tongue in an endless number of hot, breathless joinings. She only knew that with every kiss the aching emptiness of her loins intensified and her blood seemed to run molten fire in her veins, bringing every inch of her flesh to sensitized, vibrant life.
She realized dimly that they were both on their knees now and Rex’s usually deft hands were oddly clumsy on the buttons of her blouse. His lips moved from her mouth to her ear and his teeth and tongue alternately nibbled and stroked the lobe. He was murmuring an erotic litany of need and desire, causing such a tumult of sensation within her that she felt strangely weak. She clutched at his strong, naked shoulders as if he were the only rock in a reeling universe. Then the last button was overcome and Rex gently pushed her away to slide the silky material and the flimsy bra beneath it down her arms. He impatiently tossed them over the edge of the tub before feverishly gathering her back to him. The coarse pelt of hair rubbed against her sensitive nipples, engorging them in seconds.
“You are the softest woman!” he growled, as his hands ran up and down her naked back, massaging and exploring the graceful line of her spine. “You’re all satin and silk and textures.” His hands were on her hair now, removing the pins that held her bun in place, and then he threaded his fingers through it as it tumbled down her back in a silken veil. “I love the feel of you. Just the way your hair flows between my fingers turns me on.”
He pushed her away so that she was leaning against the side of the tub and he caught his breath. His eyes were glazed with passion as they fixed on her full, firm breasts, the dusky pink nipples taut and yearning beneath the barbaric collar of amethysts and diamonds. “I once saw a mural of a long dead Egyptian princess on the wall of a tomb outside Cairo, and I remember thinking she had the most beautiful breasts I’d ever seen.” He reached out to cup the warm tempting mounds in gentle hands. “But yours are far lovelier, and you’re very much alive.”
Alive? The term was a massive understatement, she thought dazedly, as Rex’s head bent slowly and he brushed his lips caressingly across the swelling rise of her breasts, leaving a streak of flaming need in their wake. She’d never been so vividly alive in her entire life! Every breath she drew seemed to create new tendrils of sensation, and then his lips moved down to nibble gently at one aching nipple. She made a whimpering sound deep in her throat before she buried her fingers in his crisp dark hair, holding him to her. The cry seemed to excite him unbearably for his hands tightened almost painfully on her breasts. His teeth and tongue worked wildly on the sensitive nipples until she was moaning and writhing beneath him in delicious torment.
“Oh Lord, sweetheart. I’m starving for you.” Rex groaned and lifted his head. His lips covered hers with a bruising passion that took her breath away and she was only dimly aware of his movements as he manipulated both their bodies until they were once more lying facing each other. One strong muscular leg slid intimately between her own, making her feel open and vulnerable to attack, and Rex’s hands were working deftly at the side fastening of her pants.
When his lips reluctantly left hers for a brief moment, Tamara drew a shaky breath, trying to remember exactly how they’d reached this point. The sudden, physical shock she felt when his hand slid into the front of her pants to caress the curve of her belly brought her to the dreamy realization of the burgeoning of final intimacies. She was so lost, though, in the web of undeniable desire that he’d woven about her that she was almost mindless.
“What are you doing?” she asked hazily, not really caring as long as he kept performing this physical magic that was entrancing her.
He looked up, his warm, loving smile wonderfully reassuring. “I’m trying to get you out of these clothes before I go crazy. I promise I’ll make it up to you later, but I’ve got to get inside you now, sweetheart!”
She supposed his frankness should have shocked her, but instead it only served to evoke a mental picture that caused a melting in every muscle of her body. She gazed around her, startled to find they were still in the tub. “But we can’t,” she protested. “Not here.”
“Sure we can,” Rex said thickly, as his hand moved around to knead her buttocks with a sensuous rhythm that was both titillating and soothing. “You haven’t lived until you’ve made love in the water. Don’t worry, I won’t let you drown. There’s plenty of room in this tub.”
Without waiting for her to reply he lowered his lips to nibble gently at her shoulder, not noticing the sudden stiffening of her body at his words. The casually knowledgeable manner in which he’d uttered that last sentence indicated a wealth of experience that chilled her as surely as if she’d been doused in a pool of ice water. The thought of Rex making love to other women in this very tub made her feel cheap and slightly sick to have been swayed by his sensual magnetism. How could she have been such a fool, she wondered miserably. Then a saving anger surged through her as she remembered how easily he had manipulated her mind and emotions as well as her untrustworthy body.
She tore away from his hold, catching him off guard. As he lifted his head, he caught one glimpse of Tamara’s angry white face and blazing eyes before she placed both hands on the top of his head and pushed down with all her strength. He slid underwater like a rock, and Tamara received a distinct pleasure out of keeping him there an instant before releasing him.
Rex came up coughing and sputtering, his dark hair plastered to his head, his eyes streaming with irritation from the soapy water. Tamara had already levered herself out of the tub and was jerkily putting on her blouse when his vision cleared enough for him to see what she was doing. “What the hell was that all about?” he roared.
“I thought you needed to cool off,” she said tartly, as she finished buttoning her blouse. She unfastened the necklace and dropped it disdainfully on the floor. “You’d better take this back. You may need it for the next idiotic woman you lure into this sultan’s p
ool of yours.” She lifted her chin haughtily. “And I’ll be more than delighted to accept that wardrobe if it will help prevent some other poor simpleton from being taken in by that little-boy charm!” Ignoring both his flushed angry expression and his furious bellow of “Tamara!” she stalked from the bathroom. Her majestic exit was marred by the fact that one of her high-heeled sandals still lay on the bottom of Rex’s bathtub, forcing her to limp rather ignominiously.
She was so angry she didn’t realize just what an incongruous picture she presented until she passed through the living room on the way to her room.
Scotty Oliver looked up from the magazine he was casually perusing, and his mouth dropped open. He shot up from the couch where he’d been sitting, and his eyes widened as they took in her dripping wet form, shoeless foot, and long dark hair flying wildly about her furious face.
“What the hell happened to you?”
She paused at the door of her room to cast him a glance of infinite dislike. “I decided not to strangle your friend Brody after all,” she said icily. “I drowned him instead!” She slammed the door behind her.
Oliver stared blankly at the closed door for a moment before he muttered a panicky curse and bolted for Rex’s bedroom.
SIX
AN HOUR LATER, Tamara gazed into the full-length mirror with grim satisfaction. Rex had specified he wanted a glamorous companion as a deterrent—well, she’d sure provided what he’d asked for! The sleeveless gown she’d chosen was of a fine white French wool whose unusual texture appeared richer than satin. The gown was utterly simple, with a low, round neckline revealing the lush beauty of her cleavage. The bodice was loosely bloused and then cinched at the waist with a narrow braided belt of the same material, and the long, narrow skirt was very flattering to the lovely line of her hips and thighs. In contrast to the simple elegance of the gown, she’d chosen a wrap as barbarically luxurious as any woman could wish. Exquisitely worked silver and gold embroidery played over a field of cerulean blue. The wide, stand-up collar of the wrap formed a breathtaking frame for her face and enhanced the violet of her eyes. She’d brushed her dark hair to a glossy, silken veil and applied a touch of pink lip gloss and a trace of blue shadow to her lids.
No Red Roses: A Loveswept Classic Romance (Santa Flores) Page 10
