Unlikely Lover

by Diana Palmer

  She knew nothing, but she wanted so desperately to please him so that he wouldn’t stop. This was magic, and she wanted more.

  Her mouth opened and she nipped at his firm lower lip, nibbling it, feeling its softness. He laughed softly deep in his throat, and she felt his hand move from her cheek to her shoulder, down her arm to her waist. While he played with her mouth, his fingers splayed out and then moved up, and the thin fabric of her flowery shirtwaist dress was no barrier at all as he found her rib cage and began to tease it.

  This was explosive. Mari trembled a little because she was catching fire. He hadn’t been kidding when he told her he was a good lover. She hadn’t dreamed of the kind of sensations that he was showing her. She hadn’t realized how vulnerable she was. Her mind was telling her that it was a game, that he didn’t mean it. He’d said so. But her body was enthralled by new feelings, new pleasures, and it wouldn’t let her stop.

  “Oh,” she whispered unsteadily when his tongue began to taste the soft inner surface of her lips.

  “Open my shirt,” he whispered against her warm mouth. He drew her hands to the remaining buttons and coaxed them until they had the fabric away from him.

  She put her hands against hard muscle and thick hair and gasped at the contact. She’d never touched a man this way, and he knew it and was excited by it.

  He bit her lower lip with a slow, ardent pressure that was arousing. “Draw your nails down to my belt,” he murmured against her parted mouth.

  She did, amazed at the shudder of his big body, at the soft groan her caress produced. She drew away slightly so that she could see his face, could see the lazy, smoldering desire in his green eyes.

  “I like it,” he told her with a husky laugh.

  She did it again, lowering her eyes this time to watch his muscles ripple with pleasure as she stroked them, to watch his flat stomach draw in even more with a caught breath. It was exciting to arouse him. It gave her a sense of her femininity that she’d never experienced.

  Meanwhile, his hand was moving again, this time up her rib cage. Not blatant but subtle in its caress, teasing lightly, provocative. It reached the outer edges of her breast even as her nails were tenderly scoring him, and his fingers lifted to touch around her nipple.

  She shuddered, looking up at him with the residue of virginal fear in her wide blue eyes. Her hand went to his hairy wrist and poised there while she tried to choose between pleasure and guilt.

  “Have you ever done this before?” he asked, his lips against hers.

  “No,” she confessed.

  Odd, how protective that made him feel. And how much a man. He brushed his lips gently over hers. “Lillian isn’t fifty feet away,” he whispered. “And we won’t do anything horribly indiscreet. But I’m as excited by this as you are, and I don’t want to stop just yet. I want to touch you and feel your reaction and let you feel mine. Mari,” he murmured, tracing a path up her soft breast, “I’ve never been the first. Not in any way, even this. Let me teach you. I promise you, there’s not the slightest danger. Not right now.”

  “Oh, but I shouldn’t…” She was weakening and her voice betrayed her.

  “Don’t feel guilty,” he whispered over her mouth. “This is love play. Women and men have indulged themselves this way since the beginning of time. I’m human. So are you. There’s no shame in being hungry.”

  He made it sound natural. It was the seducer’s basic weapon, but Mari was too outmatched to care. She arched toward his fingers because she couldn’t help herself. That maddening tracing of his fingers was driving her to her limits. She wanted his hand to flatten on her body. She wanted him to touch her…there!

  His teeth nibbled at her lower lip, catching it in a soft tug just as his fingers closed on an erect nipple and tightened gently.

  She cried out. The sound would have penetrated the walls and door, but he caught it in his mouth and muffled it, half mad with unexpected arousal. Her cries and her trembling were driving him over the edge.

  Somehow he had her on the sofa, flat on her back with his heavy body half covering her. Her dress was coming undone, she could feel the air on her bare skin, and her bra was all too loose, and his hand was…there.

  She shuddered and her eyes opened, hazy with passion. Her mouth was swollen, her cheeks red, her upward gaze full of rapt wonder.

  His big hand flattened over her soft breast, feeling the tip rub abrasively on his palm as he caressed her. His thumb circled it roughly, and she shuddered all over, her breath sighing out unsteadily like his own.

  She wanted him to kiss her some more, but his eyes were on her dress now. He peeled it slowly away from the breast he was touching, moving her bra up so that he could see the pink and mauve contrast and that taut little nub. It was as if he’d never looked at a woman before. She was beautiful. Sweetly curving and high, and not too big or too little. Just right.

  She felt as if she were watching from a distance. Her eyes wandered over his absorbed expression, seeing the veiled pleasure there, the wonder. If she was awed by him, so was he awed by her. He was touching her like some priceless treasure, taking his time, lovingly tracing every texture.

  He took the nipple between his thumb and forefinger and felt its hardness. He looked up into her fascinated eyes. “If I put my mouth on you, you’ll cry out again,” he whispered softly. “And Lillian might mistake the sound and come hopping.”

  She was trembling. She wanted it. Her body arched sinuously. She reached up, shyly, and cupped his face, gently tugging at it.

  “I won’t…cry out,” she whispered, biting her lower lip to make sure.

  “Say ‘taste me,’” he whispered back, searching her eyes.

  She blushed feverishly and turned her face into his throat to hide her embarrassment.

  “Virgin,” he breathed, trembling himself with the newness of it. “Oh, God, I want to have you so much!”

  She thought she knew what he meant, but just then he took her breast into his warm mouth, and she had to chew her lip almost through to keep from screaming at the incredible sensation.

  Her hands released his face, and she clenched them over her head. Writhing helplessly, she was caught up in the throes of something so powerful that it stopped her breath in her throat. She twisted up toward him, her body shuddering, her breast on fire with the feel of his mouth.

  With a rough groan he suddenly rolled away from her and sat up with his face in his hands, shuddering, bent over as if in agony.

  She lay there without moving, shaking all over with reaction and frustration, too weak from desire to even cover herself.

  After a minute he took a deep, steadying breath and looked down at her. If she expected mockery or amusement, she was surprised. Because he wasn’t smiling.

  His dark green eyes ran over her like hands, lingering on all the places where his mouth had been, devouring her. He drew the bra slowly back down and reached around her for the hooks, fastening them. Then he pulled the edges of her dress together and buttoned them. He didn’t speak until he was through.

  “Do you understand why I stopped?” he asked gently. Yes, there was that. There was tenderness in every line of his face, in his voice, in the fingers that brushed her cheek.

  “Yes,” she returned slowly. “I think so.”

  “I didn’t frighten you?”

  That seemed to matter very much. She felt suddenly old and venerable and deeply possessive. “No,” she said.

  He tugged gently on a strand of damp hair. “Did I please you?” he persisted and this time he smiled but without mockery.

  “As if you couldn’t tell,” she murmured, lowering her face so that he couldn’t see it.

  “If we ever make love completely, it will have to be in a soundproof room,” he said at her ear. “You’d scream the house down.”

  “Ward!” she groaned and buried her face in his chest.

  “No.” He shuddered, moving her away, and he looked pale all of a sudden.

  Her eyes que
stioned his. All these feeling were very new to her.

  He drew in a harsh breath, holding her hands in his. “Men are very easy to arouse,” he told her without embarrassment. “When they get to fever pitch, it takes very little to fan the fire. Right now I’m beyond fever pitch,” he mused with a faint laugh, “and if you touch me that way again, we’re both going to be in a lot of trouble.”

  “Oh,” she returned, searching his eyes. “Does it hurt?” she whispered softly.

  “A little,” he replied. He brushed back her hair. “How about you?”

  “Wow.” She laughed shakily. “I never dreamed that could happen to me.”

  He felt incredible. New. Reborn. He touched her face lightly as if he were dreaming. Bending over her, he took her mouth softly under his and kissed her. It was different from any other kiss in his life. When he let her go, he had to stand up or lay her down.

  “You’d better get back to work,” he said and gestured toward the computer. “And, no, I’m not going to try to teach you. My body won’t let me that close without making impossible demands on both of us so you’ll have to muddle through alone.” He laughed angrily. “Damn it, are you a witch?”

  She stood up, smoothing her dress and hair. “Actually, until about five minutes ago, I thought I was Lady Dracula.”

  “Now you know better, don’t you?” He stood watching her, his mouth slightly swollen, his shirt open, his hands on his narrow hips. The sight of him still took her breath away.

  She went quickly back to the computer and sat down, keeping her eyes on the screen. “I’ll get these finished before supper, if I can,” she promised.

  He smiled to himself. It took him a minute to leave her, his mind grappling furiously with the conflict between his desire and his calculating mind that insisted she was only interested in what he had—his ranch, his oil, his money.

  Women had never wanted him for himself; why should Mari be different? But why had she reacted with such sweet ardor unless she’d wanted him as desperately as he’d wanted her? That kind of fever was hard to fake. No, he thought. No, she’d wanted him. But was she really that unmaterialistic? The only women he’d let himself get close to were his mother and Caroline, both of whom had been self-centered opportunists. How could he trust this one? She bothered him terribly. He no longer felt any confidence in his own judgment. He left the room scowling.

  Chapter Six

  Mari was so shaken by what had happened with Ward that she had eventually needed to escape from the den. She was afraid everything they’d done would show on her face, and Lillian had sharp eyes. She also wondered if Ward would tease her. That would be the last straw, to have a worldly man like that make fun of her for a physical reaction she couldn’t help.

  She needn’t have worried. Ward was nowhere in sight, and Lillian was muttering furiously as she hobbled around the kitchen with a crutch under one arm.

  “I wish you’d let me do that,” Mari scolded. She picked up the plate of ham that Lillian was trying to take to the table and carried it in for her. “You shouldn’t be trying to lift things, Aunt Lillian. You know what the doctor said.”

  “Yes, but it’s pretty hard asking people for help,” the older woman said irritably. She glanced at Mari. “He’s gone.”

  Mari tried to look innocent. “He?”

  “The boss. He decided to fly down to South America. Just like that.” She snapped her fingers while Mari tried not to let her eyes reflect the shock she felt.

  “He left tonight?” Mari asked blankly. It didn’t seem possible. She’d been talking with him—among other things—less than two hours ago.

  “Yep. He sure did. Bag and baggage. Imagine, getting a flight out of here that quickly. He’ll go on a commercial flight from San Antonio, you see.” She added, “Flew himself over to the airport, he did.”

  Mari cleared her throat. “You said a few days ago that he’d have to go to South America.”

  “Yes. But I didn’t expect him to leave in the middle of my first night back home,” Lillian said hotly.

  “He knows I’m here,” she returned and impulsively hugged the older woman. “I’ll take care of you.”

  Lillian sighed miserably. “Nothing is working the way it was meant to,” she grumbled. “Nothing!”

  Now was her chance to perfect her acting ability. “Whatever do you mean, Aunt Lillian?” she asked with a smile.

  Lillian actually flushed. “Nothing. Not a thing. Here, set the table and help me get the food in here. There’ll be a lot for just the two of us, seeing the boss and his appetite are missing, but we can freeze the rest, I suppose.”

  “Did you take your pill?” Mari asked.

  Lillian glowered at her. Then she grinned. “Yep.”

  “Good for you,” Mari returned. “Now I’ll get to keep you for a lot longer.”

  Lillian started to speak, and then she just laughed. But her eyes were troubled when she hobbled back out to the kitchen.

  * * *

  Mari wandered around by herself during the next few days, when she wasn’t helping Lillian, enjoying the spaciousness of the ranch and the feeling of being self-sufficient. It must have been very much like this a hundred years before, she thought as she gazed out at the level horizon, when bad men and cattlemen and refugees from the Confederacy had come through on the long trails that led north and south and west.

  It was so quiet. Nothing like the noisy bustle of Atlanta. Mari felt at peace here, she felt safe. But she missed Ward in ways that she never would have expected. She’d only really known him for a matter of days, but even that made no difference to her confused emotions. She could close her eyes and feel his hard mouth, his hands holding her, touching her. It had been the most exquisite thing that she’d ever experienced, being in his arms that day. She wanted it again, so much.

  But even wanting it, she realized how dangerous it was to let him that close a second time. He only wanted her, he’d admitted that. He didn’t believe in marriage. Apparently, he’d had a rough time with a woman at some point in his life, and he’d been soured. Aunt Lillian had mentioned that his mother ran away with another man, leaving Ward and Belinda to be raised by their grandmother. So she couldn’t really blame him for his attitude. But that didn’t make her own emotions any easier to handle.

  She found herself watching the driveway and looking out the window, waiting. When the phone rang, and it did constantly, she ran to answer it, sure that it would be him. But it never was. Five days passed, and despite the fact that she enjoyed Aunt Lillian’s company, she was restless. It was almost the end of her vacation. She’d have to leave. What if she never saw him again before she had to go?

  “Missing the boss?” Lillian asked one evening, eyeing her niece calculatingly over the chicken and stuffing the younger woman wasn’t touching.

  Mari actually jumped. “No. Of course not.”

  “Not even a little?”

  Mari sighed as she toyed with a fresh roll. “Maybe a little.”

  Lillian smiled. “That’s nice. Because he’s just coming up the driveway.”

  Mari couldn’t stop herself. She leaped up from the table and ran to the front door, threw it open and darted out onto the porch. She caught herself just before she dashed down the steps toward him. She hadn’t realized until that moment just how deeply involved she already was. Boys had never paid her much attention. Surely it was just the newness of being touched and kissed. Wasn’t it?

  She held on to the porch railing, forcing herself not to take one more step.

  He got out of the Chrysler, looking as out of humor as when he’d left, a flight bag slung over one shoulder. Striking in a deep-tan vested suit and creamy Stetson, he closed the door with a hard slam, turned and started for the steps. Then he spotted Mari and stood quite still, just looking.

  She was wearing a gauzy sea-green blouse with beige slacks, and she looked young and very pretty and a little lonely. His heart shot up into his throat, and all the bad temper seeped out.
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  “Well, hello, little lady,” he said, moving up the steps, and he was actually smiling.

  “Hello.” She forced herself to look calm. “Did you have a good trip?”

  “I guess so.”

  He stopped just in front of her, and she could see new lines in his face, dark circles under his eyes. Had he been with some woman? Her eyes narrowed curiously.

  “Do I look that bad?” he taunted.

  “You look tired,” she murmured.

  “I am. I did two weeks’ business in five days.” He searched her big, soft blue eyes quietly. “Miss me?”

  “I had lots to do,” she hedged. “And the phone hasn’t stopped.”

  “That’s not surprising.” He let the bag fall to the porch and took her face in his big hands, tilting it up to his curious green eyes. “Dark circles,” he murmured, running his thumbs gently under her eyes. “You haven’t slept, have you?”

  “You look like you haven’t, either,” she returned. There was a note in her voice that surprised and secretly delighted him.

  “I never mix business with women,” he whispered lazily. “It’s bad policy. I haven’t been sleeping around with any of those gorgeous, dark-eyed Latins.”

  “Oh.” She felt embarrassed and lowered her shocked eyes to his chest. “That’s none of my business, after all,” she began.

  “Wouldn’t you like it to be?” he asked softly. He leaned toward her, nuzzling her face so that she lifted it helplessly and met his quiet, steady gaze. “Or would you rather pretend that what we did the night I left meant nothing at all to you?”

  “It meant nothing at all to you,” she countered. “You even said so, that you…”

  He stopped the soft tirade with his mouth. His arm reached across her back, pillowing her head, and his free hand spread on her throat, smoothing its silky softness as he ravished the warm sweetness of her parted lips. He was hungry, and he didn’t lift his head for a long time, not until he felt her begin to tremble, not until he heard the soft gasp and felt the eager ardor of her young mouth.

  He was breathing through his nose, heavily, and his eyes frightened her a little. “You haunted me, damn you,” he said roughly, spearing his fingers into her thick dark hair. “In my sleep I heard you cry out…”