by Janet Dailey
Deke pinned Angie with a hard look. “You may recall we were to meet tonight to discuss my daughter.” He sarcastically reminded her of their planned meeting and stressed his custody of their child.
Before she could respond, Ted spoke up, “And I will be acting as Angie’s counsel during that meeting.”
Deke’s jaw hardened with displeasure and thinning patience. Outside of a brief glance flicked in Ted’s direction, he didn’t release Angie from his stabbing look.
“You have a choice of talking to him or me tonight,” Deke stated bluntly. “I suggest you order him out if you cherish any hope that I’ll give you permission to see Lindy.” And he knew very well he wasn’t giving her any choice.
“Don’t let him blackmail you, Angie,” Ted forestalled her answer. “A court of law will decide when you may see your daughter.”
Deke slowly turned to study Ted. The corners of his mouth lifted in a half-smile that was arrogantly complacent. Angie looked at him with a definite feeling of unease. He was altogether too sure of himself.
“Have you read the document Angie signed giving the child to me?” Deke asked the question as if he already knew Ted hadn’t.
Ted faltered under the steady gaze of the man who appeared so certain of his superior position, then darted a quick glance at Angie, but he didn’t admit he hadn’t seen the official papers yet. “I haven’t had an opportunity to study them thoroughly. That was among the reasons for my trip here from Houston.”
“Well, when you do go over them,” Deke said smoothly, “I believe you’ll find that it won’t be up to the law to decide whether Angie ever sees Lindy. I will.”
Angie felt her chances slipping away and fixed her gaze on Ted. She wasn’t reassured by the doubt and lack of confidence in his expression. But he still attempted to support her claim.
“Regardless of the validity of a given document, the circumstances leading up to it have to be taken into consideration,” Ted bluffed. “At the time, Angie was a minor—”
“She had the benefit of legal advice,” Deke interrupted. “So did her guardian. Angie knew precisely what she was signing.”
Ted looked at her in silent question. “It’s true. I did,” she admitted, and knew by his reaction that her hopes had been dashed to the ground.
The grounds for any further discussion were eliminated. Deke stressed the point by picking up Ted’s suitcase and hauling his briefcase off the bed, then walked to the open door and tossed them outside.
“Miss Hall won’t be needing your services, Mr. Sullivan,” Deke stated in cool dismissal. “So your presence here is no longer required or wanted.”
Stubbornly, Ted hesitated and moved to stand in front of Angie. “If you don’t want me to go, just say so. It’ll take an army to get me out of here.” He flashed a look of dislike at Deke. “I don’t like the idea of you being alone with him.”
But Deke had already issued his ultimatum and Angie had known what her choice would have to be. “I’ll be all right,” she assured Ted. “You’d better go.”
His mouth was compressed into a grim line as he turned from her and walked to the door Deke held open. Ted paused to issue his parting threat. “If you lay a hand on her, I’ll—”
Deke interrupted, “You may not mind taking another man’s leavings, but I’m more particular.” Then Deke let an expression of forbidding anger darken his features. “Now, get out!”
Before Ted had crossed the threshold, Deke was already swinging the door shut with a vehemence that had Angie cringing inwardly. But there was no sign of it when he turned to face her, only a slight flaring of his nostrils to attest to its previous existence. Angie felt the run of her nerves as she faced him, all raw masculinity, male features carved in austerely handsome lines and a leanly muscled physique stamped with prepotency. Angie quivered, growing hot under his silvery look. This was the man who had fathered her child and she was alone with him. Her glance swung to the bed, too conscious of its presence in the room.
Chapter Seven
Did you really believe that lover boy was going to be able to help you take Lindy away from me?” Deke’s voice was heavy with scorn.
“Ted is a friend,” Angie insisted, reacting to his first accusation. “Regardless of how it might have looked, he isn’t—and never has been my lover.”
An eyebrow was lifted in mocking reproof. “I suppose his suitcase just ’happened’ to be sitting by your bed. He never had any intention of spending the weekend in this room—with you.”
“He might have ’hoped’ it would work out like that,” Angie retorted, because she suspected it was what Ted had in mind. “I wasn’t expecting him, so I really couldn’t say. When he arrived here, I was surprised and invited him in without paying any attention to where he put his suitcase!”
In the ensuing silence, Angie became aware that Deke’s attention had shifted to the front of her robe. Something smouldered in his look. She glanced down, discovering the overlapping fold of her robe had loosened to expose the full swell of her breasts. Flushing, she pulled it more tightly across her front and checked the knotted sash securing it.
Averting her face from his too astute eyes, Angie walked over to set up the chair Ted had tipped over and pick up her clothes from the floor. “My relationship with Ted isn’t any of your business.” She didn’t want to discuss that topic with Deke—and it’s implication of sex. “And as for Lindy—I’m not trying to take her away from you. Her home is with you. I only want to be able to visit her.”
“That’s what you say now.” Deke made it plain that he didn’t believe her. “Seven years ago this next March, you didn’t even want to see the infant you had given birth to. You swore you never would want to see her.”
“I was wrong,” she admitted in irritation.
“You’re claiming now that you only want to visit Lindy, but a month from now or a year from now, you could decide that you want her to live with you.”
“I swear I won’t, Deke,” Angie declared. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“I wouldn’t let you do that to me,” he informed her grimly. “A lot has been said about the way a mother will fight for her young, but a father will fight just as tenaciously for his. I’d advise you to remember that, Angie.”
“I’ll remember it.” She finally faced him squarely. “But why should either of us fight? You aren’t going to be able to keep me away from Lindy. Why should you even try? It’s wrong for you to deprive Lindy of her mother’s love—my love.”
“Her mother’s love.” His mouth curved contemptuously. “A mother who abandoned her at birth—who had made no attempt to see her in seven years—who hadn’t even held her child in her arms until today?”
Angie winced at his bitter truths. “That isn’t the way I wanted it.”
“Is that why you decided to ’use’ lover boy to try to get Lindy?” Deke challenged. “Ever since I’ve known you, Angie, you’ve used people. Used them until you had satisfied what-ever particular whim you had at the time. Then you just turned your back and forgot them. It was just tough luck if they happened to get hurt, wasn’t it?”
“That isn’t true!” Aghast, Angie stared at him.
“Isn’t it?” he mocked. “You knew Teddy-boy wanted to go to bed with you, so you were going to use him to fight me. And what about today when you ’used’ my sister to see Lindy? You don’t really give a damn that you’ve ruined my relationship with Marissa—that I can’t trust my own sister. No, you got to see Lindy so it was worth it. It didn’t hurt you.”
“It was wrong. I admit it.” Angie felt small and wretched. “I don’t think you realize how desperate I was to see Lindy. It’s been building up inside me for seven years, Deke. And here I was so close to her.”
“I’m not going to let you hurt Lindy,” he stated.
“I don’t want to hurt her,” Angie argued. “I want to love her.” She searched for a way to make him understand how much it meant to her to have her child again. “I’ve giv
en up my job—probably my career—my own home, everything that I once thought was important, just so I can be near my daughter. Doesn’t that show you how much I care?”
Deke studied her with a certain hard cynicism in his features. “It tells me you probably became tired of your career. Who’s going to suffer? Not you. Your boss, temporarily, until he finds a replacement.” He paused. “I know you, Angie.”
“I don’t think you understand me,” she insisted on a heavy sigh.
“What is it this time, Angie? Do you want to experience maternal love? Is that why you’re here?” he cross-examined her motives, then supplied his own deductive reasoning. “You wanted to experience sex and you used me for a partner. Unfortunately, you got pregnant. You wouldn’t even consider an abortion, I suppose because you wanted to experience childbirth. But you weren’t interested in raising a child. That would take too much of your time. So you decided you wanted the experience of a career, and pawned the baby off on me.”
“You make me sound selfish and irresponsible. Seven years ago, I was scared and alone,” Angie defended herself and fought back the tears.
“You weren’t alone. I was there.”
“You.” Her short laugh was bitter. “You were just like everybody else.” And none of them cared about her. “But it doesn’t really matter what happened back then. This is today, and I want my child.”
“You can’t have Lindy,” Deke stated. “If you want something to mother, then have another baby. I’m sure lover boy would be more than happy to get you pregnant.”
“I can’t.” Angie lowered her chin, biting her lip at the stillness that followed her reply. She felt his sharpened attention. Then his hand was under her chin, raising it and forcing her to look at him.
“What do you mean—you can’t?” Deke frowned. “Are you saying you can’t have children? The doctor told me it was a normal delivery. He never mentioned any damage.”
“There’s no . . . physical problem.” Angie averted her gaze from his face. It wasn’t a subject she could talk about with ease, especially with him. “I just seem to . . . freeze up.” Deke waited for her to elaborate. “About a year after the baby was born, I. . . went to the doctor to find out. . . what was wrong with me. He said it was normal for a woman to . . . lose interest in sex after the birth of a child. He assured me ... it wouldn’t last. But—”
“Are you saying that you haven’t had sex with any man since the last time we made love?” Deke wanted her to be more explicit. The wonder in his voice bordered on skepticism.
Angie flashed him a hurt look of angry pride. “I’m not asking you to believe me,” she said tightly and looked away. “I don’t know—maybe I’m scared of getting pregnant. Or I have a guilty conscience because I gave away my baby. But I just can’t—” The muscles in her throat constricted in pain, and she couldn’t finish the sentence. Angie pressed her lips together, refusing to make any further attempt to convince Deke that what she said was true.
The roughness of his calloused thumb moved slowly over the outline of her mouth, rubbing the soft curves of her lips.
“You’re right,” Deke acknowledged. “I find it hard to believe.”
Even though she expected his doubt, it still stabbed her. Closing her eyes, she breathed in sharply and caught the manly smell of him, virile and warm. Awareness shivered along her nerve ends at how closely he was standing to her. His thumb continued its absorbing study of her mouth, a disturbing sensuality entering his touch.
“You enjoyed making love, Angie.” The pitch of his voice had deepened to a husky level, an edge of reluctance in it as if it was something he didn’t want to recall. “Do you remember the first time we made love?” His fingers curved themselves against her neck while his thumb trailed slowly across her cheek to her ear. “We took the boat into the Gulf and dropped anchor to laze on the deck in the sun.”
“Yes.” She opened her eyes to look at him, stimulated by his words and his touch. The blue of her eyes had darkened to a midnight hue, a longing burned in them to recapture the enchantment of that afternoon seven years ago. “The Southern Breeze ,” Angie murmured the name of the boat.
“Yes,” Deke confirmed the accuracy of her memory as his gaze fathomed the deep blue of her eyes. “There was just you and I, and a bottle of suntan lotion. You started out rubbing it over my shoulders and back, massaging it in.”
Angie quivered with the sensation of his hard flesh beneath her hands, all male sinew and bone. The lotion had given her a heady excuse to leisurely explore his body, to feel the rippling muscles of his arms and the solid flatness of his stomach. Of their own volition, her hands spread themselves across his chest, feeling the heat generated by his body through the thin material of his white shirt. It intensified the memory of his sun-warmed flesh.
“Then it was my turn to spread the lotion over you,” Deke murmured thickly, and Angie quivered as his hand traveled slowly down her neck and pushed the collar of her robe aside to expose the creamy gold of a bare shoulder.
They were both trapped in the spell of the past, caught in the vortex of remembered passion. It smouldered anew, flicking through Angie’s veins with a disturbing heat. There was a hand at her back, drawing her a few inches closer before it moved to push the robe off her other shoulder. She was having difficulty breathing normally, her pulse racing away with itself.
“You were wearing a skimpy blue bikini that already had my imagination working overtime.” Deke lowered his gaze to the vicinity of her breasts still partially hidden from his view by the robe. The almost physical touch of his gaze seemed to make them strain against the confinement of the terrycloth material. “It was a simple matter to untie the halter strings.” As Deke reminded her of his action that day, his fingers loosened the knot of the cloth belt that held the robe in place.
The overlapping front of the robe swung open, causing Angie to take a quick breath that became lodged in her throat. It was released in a shuddering sigh when his hand cupped the weight of a naked breast in its palm. Then his mouth drifted onto hers and her lips parted under the first pressure.
The kiss grew hard and hungry, ravenous in its desire for satisfaction. Angie dissolved under the melting force of Deke’s ardor, offering no resistance when his hands pulled the robe from her body and her nude form was gathered against his male length. Timeless sensations swirled through her system, heating her flesh with age-old needs. His roaming hands fitted her to the rangy contours of his body, the coarse denim of his Levis abrasive against her sensitized bare hips and legs.
The compulsion was strong to feel his flesh against her skin. It guided her fingers to the buttons of his shirt, unfastening them to slip her hands inside and rediscover the rippling muscles contracting under his skin at her touch. Then Deke was aiding her, pulling his shirt free of the waistband to give her unlimited contact with his hair-roughened chest and stomach. His tongue licked into the secret recesses of her mouth, finally filling it and mating with hers.
Nothing existed—not time or place. All that Angie knew was that she was enclosed in the familiar intimacy of his embrace. Her insides were knotted with sweet agony, aching to absorb him into her flesh, to have him fill the emptiness that throbbed for him. She dug her fingers into his shoulders in a silent demand. A muffled sound came from his throat as Deke dragged his mouth from hers. He was breathing hard, little beads of perspiration forming above his upper lip. When he looked down at her eagerly trembling body, he seemed to be warring within himself.
“It’s no use,” Deke muttered at last and swung her off the floor and into his arms. “I’ve got to have you.”
His mouth was on hers again, not allowing time for second thoughts or for Angie to take in the full impact of what was happening. Carrying her to the bed, Deke laid her down and stripped out of his clothes. Angie watched him, aware that his eyes were taking in every female inch of her and sending a fire coursing through her veins. She had never belonged to anyone else but him. When he came to the bed, she
knew she had never wanted to belong to anyone else but Deke.
For a second, she was frozen by the realization, then the mattress sagged under his additional weight. Angie ceased to be conscious of anything but the virile body pressed next to her. His mouth was on her lips, eating them only to be sidetracked by the delectable curve of her throat and later the swelling thrust of her breast. All the while, his hands roamed over her body, manipulating and exciting Angie to a point of frenzy. She strained toward him, seeking the gratification his hard manhood promised.
“Love me, Deke,” she moaned when it seemed she was going to die from wanting him.
With a groan, he rolled on top of her, sliding between her legs and pinning her to the mattress with his weight. She barely managed to bite back the sharp cry of pain at his entrance. It had been so long that it hurt as if it were the first time all over again, but there was pleasure in the pain, a pleasure that grew and expanded until it swelled and burst in a golden rush of fire. It consumed them both, a raging fever that left them weak—and wholly satisfied.
Lying in his arms with her head nestled on his chest, Angie listened to the solid beat of his heart and enjoyed the enfolding warmth of his arms. Her body tingled with leftover pleasure, tired and content at last. She closed her eyes, soothed by steady rise and falls of his chest, and the fact that Deke had made no move to leave her.
Outside the sun had gone down and night was closing in. Sleep stole languidly over her. Just before Angie lost consciousness, she was dimly aware of Deke pulling a cover over them. It was the last thing she remembered before she drifted off.
Sometime in the night, Angie stirred and encountered an arm of resistence when she tried to move. She was shocked into wakeful-ness by the discovery that someone was in bed with her—a man. She was lying on her side and a distinctly male body was molded to her shape, a large hand possessively holding her breast. For a split second, her memory was blank and an instinct to escape the stranger’s hold prodded her to move. The instant the arm tightened around her again to keep Angie in his embrace, she remembered it was Deke and her stiffness subsided.
