by Diana Palmer
He brushed back his soaked hair with a lean, angry hand, and his chest rose and fell heavily. “I have a meeting just after supper,” he said. “I sent the rest of my suits to the cleaner’s this afternoon. This is the last suit I had. I didn’t expect to go swimming in it.”
“We could dry it and I could…press it,” Lillian suggested halfheartedly, pretty sure that she couldn’t do either.
“I could forget the whole damned thing, too,” he said curtly. He glared at Lillian. “Nothing is going to make up for this, you know.”
She swallowed. “How about a nice freshly baked apple pie with ice cream?”
He tilted his head to one side and pursed his lips. “Freshly baked?” “Freshly baked.”
“With ice cream?”
“That’s right,” she promised.
He shrugged his wet shoulders. “I’ll think about it.” He turned and sloshed off down the hall.
Lillian leaned back against the wall and stared at her transfixed niece. “Honey,” she said gently, “would you like to tell me what happened?”
“I don’t know,” Mari burst out. “I went in to call him to the table, and I started looking at that beautiful artificial stream, and the next thing I knew, he’d fallen into it. I must have, well, backed into him.”
“How you could miss a man his size is beyond me.” Lillian shook her head and grabbed a broom and dustpan from the closet.
“I had my back to him, you know.”
“I wouldn’t ever do that again after this if I were you,” the older woman advised. “If it wasn’t for that apple pie, even I couldn’t save you!”
“Yes, ma’am,” Mari said apologetically. “Oh, Aunt Lillian, that poor, brave man.” She sighed. “I hope he doesn’t get a chill because of me. I’d never be able to live with myself!”
“There, there,” Lillian assured her, “he’s tough, you know. He’ll be fine. For now, I mean,” she added quickly.
Mari covered her face with her hands in mingled relief and suppressed amusement. Ward Jessup was quite a man. How sad that he had such little time left. She didn’t think she’d ever forget the look on his face when he climbed out of the indoor stream, or the excited beat of her heart as she’d run from him. It was new to be chased by a man, even an ill one, and exhilarating to be uninhibited in one’s company. She’d been shy with men all her life, but she didn’t feel shy with Ward. She felt…feminine. And that was as new to her as the rapid beat of her heart.
Chapter Three
“I didn’t mean to knock you into the pool,” Mari told Ward the minute he entered the dining room.
He stopped in the doorway and stared at her from his great height. His hair was dry now, thick and straight against his broad forehead, and his wet clothes had been exchanged for dry jeans and a blue plaid shirt. His green eyes were a little less hostile than they had been minutes before.
“It isn’t a pool,” he informed her. “It’s an indoor stream. And next time, Miss Raymond, I’d appreciate it if you’d watch where the hell you’re going.”
“Yes, sir,” she said quickly.
“I told you not to let him put that stream in the living room,” Lillian gloated.
He glared at her. “Keep talking and I’ll give you an impromptu swimming lesson.”
“Yes, boss.” She turned on her heel and went back into the kitchen to fetch the rest of the food.
“I really am sorry,” Mari murmured.
“So am I,” he said unexpectedly, and his green eyes searched hers quietly. “I hope I didn’t frighten you.”
She glanced down at her shoes, nervous of the sensations that his level gaze prompted. “It’s hard to be afraid of a man with a lily pad on his head.”
“Stop that,” he grumbled, jerking out a chair.
“You might consider putting up guardrails,” she suggested dryly as she sat down across from him, her blue eyes twinkling with the first humor she’d felt in days.
“You’d better keep a life jacket handy,” he returned.
She stuck her tongue out at him impulsively and watched his thick eyebrows arch.
He shook out his napkin with unnecessary force and laid it across his powerful thighs. “My God, you’re living dangerously,” he told her.
“I’m not afraid of you,” she said smartly and meant it.
“That isn’t what your Aunt Lillian says,” he observed with narrowed eyes.
She stared at him blankly. “I beg your pardon?”
“She says you’re afraid of men,” he continued. He scowled at her puzzled expression. “Because of what happened to you and your friend,” he prompted.
She blinked, wondering what her aunt had told him about that. After all, having your purse pinched by an overweight juvenile delinquent wasn’t really enough to terrify most women. Especially when she and Beth had run the offender down, beaten the stuffing out of him, recovered the purse and sat on him until the police got there.
“You know, dear,” Lillian blustered as she came through the door, shaking her head and smiling all at once. She looked as red as a beet, too. “The horrible experience you had!”
“Horrible?” Mari asked.
“Horrible!” Lillian cried. “We can’t talk about it now!”
“We can’t?” Mari parroted blankly.
“Not at the table. Not in front of the boss!” She jerked her head curtly toward him two or three times.
“Have you got a crick in your neck, Aunt Lillian?” her niece asked with some concern.
“No, dear, why do you ask? Here! Have some fried chicken and some mashed potatoes!” She shoved dishes toward her niece and began a monologue that only ended when it was time for dessert.
“I think something’s wrong with Aunt Lillian,” Mari confided to Ward the moment Lillian started back into the kitchen for the coffeepot.
“Yes, so do I,” he replied. “She’s been acting strangely for the past few days. Don’t let on you know. We’ll talk later.”
She nodded, concerned. Lillian was back seconds later, almost as if she was afraid to leave them alone together. How strange.
“Well, I think I’ll go up to bed,” Mari said after she finished her coffee, glancing quickly at Aunt Lillian. “I’m very tired.”
“Good idea,” Ward said. “You get some rest.”
“Yes,” Lillian agreed warmly. “Good night, dear.”
She bent to kiss her aunt. “See you in the morning, Aunt Lillian,” she murmured and glanced at Ward. “Good night, Mr. Jessup.”
“Good night, Miss Raymond,” he said politely.
Mari went quietly upstairs and into her bedroom. She sat by the window and looked down at the empty swimming pool with its wooden privacy fence and the gently rolling, brush-laden landscape, where cattle moved lazily and a green haze heralded spring. Minutes later there was a stealthy knock at the door, and Ward Jessup came into the room, scowling.
“Want me to leave the door open?” he asked hesitantly.
She stared at him blankly. “Why? Are you afraid I might attack you?”
He stared back. “Well, after the experience you had, I thought…”
“What experience?” she asked politely.
“The man at the shopping center,” he said, his green eyes level and frankly puzzled as he closed the door behind him.
“Are you afraid of me because of that?” she burst out. “I do realize you may be a little weak, Mr. Jessup, but I promise I won’t hurt you!”
He gaped at her. “What?”
“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” she assured him. “I’m not really as bad as Aunt Lillian made me sound, I’m sure. And it’s only a red belt, after all, not a black one. I only sat on him until the police came. I hardly even bruised him—”
“Whoa,” he said curtly. He cocked his dark head and peered at her. “You sat on him?”
“Sure,” she agreed, pushing her hair out of her eyes. “Didn’t she tell you that Beth and I ran the little weasel down to get my purs
e back and beat the stuffing out of him? Overweight little juvenile delinquent, he was lucky I didn’t skin him alive.”
“You weren’t attacked?” he persisted.
“Well, sort of.” She shrugged. “He stole my purse. He couldn’t have known I was a karate student.”
“Oh, my God,” he burst out. His eyes narrowed, his jaw tautened. “That lying old turkey!”
“How dare you call my aunt a turkey!” she returned hotly. “After all she’s doing for you?”
“What, exactly, is she doing for me?”
“Well, bringing me here, to help you write your memoirs before…the end,” she faltered. “She told me all about your incurable illness—”
“Incurable illness?” he bellowed.
“You’re dying,” she told him.
“Like hell I am,” he said fiercely.
“You don’t have to act brave and deny it,” she replied hesitantly. “She told me that you wanted young people around to cheer you up. And somebody to help you write your memoirs. I’m going to be a novelist one day,” she added. “I want to be a writer.”
“Good. You can practice with your aunt’s obituary,” he muttered, glaring toward the door.
“You can’t do that to a helpless old lady,” she began.
“Watch me.” He was heading for the door, his very stride frightening.
“Oh, no! You can’t!” She ran after him, got in front of him and plastered herself against the door. “You’ll have to go through me.”
“Suits me, Joan of Arc,” he grumbled, catching her by the waist. He lifted her clear off the floor until she was unnervingly at eye level with him. “You sweet little angel of mercy, you.”
“Put me down or I’ll…I’ll put you down,” she threatened.
He stared amusedly into her blue eyes under impossibly thick lashes. “Will you? Go ahead. Show me how you earned that red belt.”
She tried. She used every trick her instructor had taught her, and all it accomplished was to leave her dangling from his powerful hands, panting into his mocking smile.
“Had enough?” she huffed.
“Not at all. Aren’t you finished yet?” he asked politely.
She aimed one more kick, which he blocked effortlessly. She sagged in his powerful hold. Lord, he was strong! “Okay,” she said, sighing wearily. “Now I’m finished.”
“Next time,” he told her as he put her back on her feet, leaving his hands tightly around her waist, “make sure your intended victim didn’t take the same course of study. My belt is black. Tenth degree.”
“Damn you!” she cursed sharply.
“And we’ll have no more of that in this house,” he said shortly, emphasizing the angry remark with a reproachful slap to her bottom, nodding as she gasped in outrage. “You’ve been working in that garage for too long already, if that’s any example of what you’re being taught.”
“I’m not a child!” she retorted. “I’m an adult!”
“No, you aren’t,” he replied, jerking her against him with a mocking smile. “But maybe I can help you grow up a little.”
He bent his head and found her lips with a single smooth motion, pressing her neck back against his muscular shoulder with the fierce possessiveness of his hard mouth.
Mari thought that in all her life nothing so unexpected had ever happened to her. His lips were warm and hard and insistent, forcing hers open so that he could put the tip of his tongue just under them, his breath tasting of coffee and mint, the strength of his big body overwhelming her with its hard warmth.
For an instant she tried to struggle, only to find herself enveloped in his arms, wrapped up against him so tightly that she could hardly breathe. And everywhere her face turned, his was there, his mouth provocative, sensuous, biting at hers, doing the most intimate things to it.
Her legs felt funny. They began to tremble as they came into sudden and shocking contact with his. Her heart raced. Her body began to ache with heat and odd longings. Her breath caught somewhere in her chest, and her breasts felt swollen. Because these new sensations frightened her, she tried to struggle. But he only held her tighter, not brutally but firmly, and went on kissing her.
His fingers were in her hair, tugging gently, strong and warm at her nape as they turned her face where he wanted it. His mouth pressed roughly against hers and opened softly, teaching hers. Eventually the drugging sweetness of it took the fight out of her. With a tiny sigh she began to relax.
“Open your mouth, Mari,” he murmured in a deep, rough whisper, punctuating the command with a sensual brushing of his open lips against hers.
She obeyed him without hearing him, her body with a new heat, her hands searching over his arms to find hard muscle and warm strength through the fabric. She wanted to touch his skin, to experience every hard line of him. She wanted to open his shirt and touch his chest and see if the wiry softness she could feel through it was thick hair….
Her abandon shocked her back to reality. Her eyes opened and she tugged at his arms, only vaguely aware of the sudden, fierce hunger in his mouth just before he felt her resistance. He lifted his head, taking quick, short breaths, and by the time her eyes opened, he was back in control.
He was watching her, half amused, half mocking. He lifted his mouth, breathing through his nose, and let her move away.
“You little virgin,” he accused in a tone that she didn’t recognize. “You don’t even know how to make love.”
Her swollen lips could barely form words. She had to swallow and try twice to make herself heard. “That wasn’t fair,” she said finally.
“Why not?” he asked. “You tried to kick me, didn’t you?”
“That isn’t the way…a gentleman gets even,” she said, still panting.
“I’m no gentleman,” he assured her, smiling even with those cold green eyes. The smile grew colder as he realized how close he’d come to letting her knock him off balance physically. She was dangerous. Part of him wanted her off the property. But another part was hungry for more of that innocently ardent response he’d won from her. His own emotions confused him. “Haven’t you realized yet why you’re here, Georgia peach?” he asked mockingly. And when she shook her head, he continued, half amused. “Aunt Lillian is matchmaking. She wants you to marry me.”
Mari’s pupils dilated. “Marry you!”
His back stiffened. She didn’t have to make it sound like the rack, did she? He glared down at her. “Well, plenty have wanted to, let me tell you,” he muttered.
“Masochists,” she shot back, humiliated by her aunt, his attitude and that unexpectedly ardent attack just minutes before. “Anyway,” she said salvaging her pride, “Aunt Lillian would never—”
“She did.” He studied her with a cold smile. “But I’m too old for you and too jaded. And I don’t want to risk my heart again. So go home. Fast.”
“It can’t be fast enough to suit me. Honest,” she told him huskily as she tried to catch her breath. “I don’t want to wake up shackled to a man like you.”
“How flattering of you.”
“I want a partner, not a possessor,” she said shakily. “I thought I knew something about men until just now. I don’t know anything at all. And I’ll be delighted to go back home and join a convent!”
“Was it that bad?” he taunted.
“You scare me, big man,” she said and meant it. She backed away from him. “I’ll stick to my own age group from now on, thanks. I’ll bet you’ve forgotten more about making love than I’ll ever learn.”
He smiled slowly, surprised by her frankness. “I probably have. But you’re pretty sweet all the same.”
“Years too young for a renegade like you.”
“I could be tempted,” he murmured thoughtfully.
“I couldn’t. You’d seduce me and leave me pregnant, and Aunt Lillian would quit, and I’d have to go away and invent a husband I didn’t have, and our child would grow up never knowing his father…” she burst out.
&nbs
p; His eyes widened. He actually chuckled. “My God, what an imagination.”
“I told you I wanted to be a writer,” she reminded him. “And now, since you’re not dying, would you mind leaving me to pack? I think I can be out of here in ten minutes.”
“She’ll be heartbroken,” he said unexpectedly.
“That’s not my problem.”
“She’s your aunt. Of course it’s your problem,” he returned. “You can’t possibly leave now. She’d—”
“Oh!”
The cry came from downstairs. They looked at each other and both dived for the door, opening it just in time to find Lillian on her back on the bottom step, groaning, one leg in an unnatural position.
Mari rushed down the stairs just behind Ward. “Oh, Aunt Lillian!” she wailed, staring at the strained old face with its pasty complexion. “How could you do this to me?”
“To you?” Lillian bit off, groaning again. “Child, it’s my leg!”
“I was going to leave—” Mari began.
“Leave the dishes for you, no doubt.” Ward jumped in with a warning glance in Mari’s direction. “Isn’t that right, Miss Raymond?” Fate was working for him as usual, he mused. Now he’d have a little time to find out just why this woman disturbed him so much. And to get her well out of his system, one way or another, before she left. He had to prove to himself that Mari wasn’t capable of doing to him what Caroline had done. It was a matter of male pride.
Mari swallowed, wondering whether to go along with Ward. He did look pretty threatening. And huge. “Uh, that’s right. The dishes. But I can do them!” she added brightly.
“It looks like…you may be doing them…for quite a while, if you…don’t mind,” Lillian panted between groans while Wade rushed to the telephone and dialed the emergency service number.
“You poor darling.” Mari sighed, holding Lillian’s wrinkled hand. “What happened?”
“I missed Ward and wondered if he might be…if you might be…” She cleared her throat and stared at Mari through layers of pain. “You didn’t say anything to him?” she asked quickly. “About his…condition?”
Mari bit her tongue. Forgive me for lying, Lord, she thought. She crossed her fingers behind her. “Of course not,” she assured her aunt with a blank smile. “He was just telling me about the ranch.”
