by Lynn Turner
He brought his lips close to her ear to murmur, ‘I’m glad you’re not a bleached blonde.’
‘How do you know—’ she began, then broke off and closed her eyes in embarrassment. That was a mistake, because when his warm, firm lips settled on hers the sensation was all the more devastating.
The kiss was hard and passionate, but all too brief. Abbie opened her eyes in time to see him moving towards the door.
‘I don’t know how long this will take,’ he said as he put it on. ‘If I’m lucky, Tony will start talking after a few beers.’
‘About the car, you mean?’ Abbie asked.
He gave her an exasperated look. ‘What else would I want him to talk about, for pity’s sake?’
‘Roxanne,’ she suggested with a shrug.
He made a derisive sound in the back of his throat. ‘Not likely. Besides, Tony couldn’t tell me anything about Roxie Winston that I haven’t already learned the hard way. If you still want that hot meal after you’ve had your bath, we’ll be in the lounge.’ He opened the door, then paused and looked back. ‘I wasn’t kidding before—you really could fall asleep in the tub. Don’t stay in there too long, OK?’
Abbie smiled up at him. The pleasurable warmth that suffused her owed more to his concern than to the bath water. ‘OK,’ she said softly.
After he had gone she lay back and thought about what a complex, paradoxical, utterly fascinating man he was. Then she thought about the article she had made a firm commitment to write. By the time she climbed out of the tub and reached for a towel, she had decided on an entirely new angle for the piece. Roger probably wouldn’t be thrilled—he was expecting an action-packed story about the race—but she thought she could work out a solution that would pacify him.
She pulled on jeans and a blouse, then collected her steno pad and quickly filled three pages with densely packed notes. She was still seated at the desk fifteen minutes later when a series of imperative knocks shattered her concentration. Abbie considered ignoring the summons, but then it occurred to her that Mal might have forgotten to take the room key with him when he left. Just in case, she closed the notebook and stuffed it back into her suitcase before going to open the door.
Roxanne Winston was the last person she had expected to find standing on the other side of it. Her initial surprise was quickly replaced by jealous suspicion.
‘If you’re looking for Mal, he isn’t here,’ she said coolly.
‘I know,’ Roxanne replied. ‘I saw him leave with Tony. May I come in?’
Abbie was torn. Part of her—the cautious part—knew it was crazy to spend any more time in Roxanne’s company than was absolutely necessary, especially looking as she did now—without make-up and wearing a simple shirt and jeans. But, as it often did, her curiosity overrode the instinctive urge for caution. Obviously Roxanne had come to see her. About what? That was the question of the hour. She stepped back and held the door open wide.
‘By all means.’
Roxanne glided into the room and took time to make a leisurely inspection of its contents before turning to face her.
‘I see you have two beds.’
Abbie forced her mouth to form a tight smile. ‘It was the only room available when we checked in.’ She casually took a seat on the bed closest to the door—the one with the noticeably rumpled spread—and felt a slash of malicious satisfaction when Roxanne’s gaze travelled beyond her and her ice-blue eyes suddenly narrowed with displeasure. ‘Won’t you sit down?’ Abbie murmured, indicating the desk chair.
Roxanne gave an impatient shake of her head. ‘What I have to say won’t take long. Mal’s probably told you about us, about how I used him.’
‘If you mean how you stole his design for the artificial heart and passed it off as your own,’ Abbie said bluntly, ‘yes, he told me.’
Roxanne neither denied the charge nor attempted to defend herself. ‘It was a stupid move,’ she said with surprising candour. ‘If only I’d been patient a little longer, waited until he’d finished refining the design, he probably would have shared the credit with me. But I was young and ambitious, and frankly I just couldn’t tolerate living in Hicksville any longer.’ She laughed contemptuously. ‘A big night out was dinner at Glady’s Cafe followed by bingo at the church annexe.’
One slender manicured hand dismissed the town and its citizens with a single brusque gesture. ‘But I’m sure you’re familiar with what passes for a social life in rural Oklahoma. At any rate, the design for the heart was just a means to an end.’
‘Your ticket to fame and fortune,’ Abbie remarked. Either her sarcasm went right by Roxanne, or she chose to ignore it.
‘Exactly. I told you I was ambitious. I still am. Fortunately, I’m also extremely talented.’
‘But not as talented as Mal,’ Abbie murmured. ‘If you were, you wouldn’t have had to steal his design to launch your own career, and you wouldn’t be using this race to try to manipulate him into becoming your partner.’
Roxanne was clearly disconcerted by her perception. For just an instant her sophisticated poise deserted her, but then her gaze sharpened, became shrewdly assessing. Abbie endured her scrutiny in anxious silence. It had belatedly occurred to her that this was probably one of those times when discretion would; have been the better part of something or other. With each second that passed, the probability that Roxanne would recognise her increased.
‘Well, well,’ Roxanne finally drawled. ‘Apparently you’re not just another dumb blonde.’
Abbie stifled her instinctive caustic response. While telling the bitch off undoubtedly would have given her an enormous amount of personal satisfaction, she couldn’t afford to indulge herself. Not yet; not until the race was over.
‘Why don’t you say what you came to say, and then leave?’ she said with a bored indifference that was one hundred per cent sham.
Roxanne stiffened slightly. ‘All right. I intend to have Mal back, and not just as a business partner.’
Abbie’s lips quirked in a satiric smile. ‘I think Mal might have something to say about that. In case you haven’t noticed, you’re not on the list of people he admires most.’
Roxanne’s dark head inclined slightly in acknowledgement. ‘Oh, I know he claims to despise me. He may even believe it. But no matter how he feels about me personally, Malachi Garrett’s word is his bond. He’s never welshed on a bet in his life and he won’t welsh on this one. A week from now he’ll be in New York, working side by side with me nine or ten hours a day, five, maybe six days a week. Even if you come with him, he’ll spend more time with me than with you. I’ll make sure he realises how much we have in common, how important the contacts I’ve made will be to his career. I’ll be filled with remorse about the heartless way I used him three years ago and desperate to earn his forgiveness. Before the month is out he’ll be back in my bed, and within three months we’ll be married.’
Abbie could hardly believe the woman’s conceit. Apparently it hadn’t even occurred to her that Mal might be just a bit reluctant to succumb to her charms a second time.
‘I hope for your sake that you haven’t already mailed the wedding invitations,’ she commented drily.
Roxanne’s classically sculpted features tautened, her expression becoming overtly hostile. ‘I’m warning you, Miss Kincaid, don’t get in my way. I can be a real bitch when I’m crossed.’
‘I know,’ Abbie replied with a composure that severely taxed her self-control. ‘Mal told me.’ Deciding to end this confrontation before it turned into a hair-pulling contest, she gracefully rose to her feet. ‘I think we’ve both made our positions clear. We could stand here and snipe at each other for the rest of the night, but it wouldn’t accomplish anything. The bottom line is that you’ll have to win the bet to get another shot at Mal. And frankly, Ms Winston, I don’t think you have a chance in hell.’
She forced herself to walk calmly to the door. ‘I’ll have to ask you to leave now,’ she said as she opened it. ‘My lover is wa
iting for me to join him for a late supper.’
After Roxanne stalked out in a silent rage Abbie closed the door and leaned against it for a minute or so, waiting for her own anger to subside. Then she put on her shoes and headed for the lounge.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The lounge was fairly crowded, but Abbie spotted him right away. He and Tony were sitting together at the bar, drinking beer straight from dark brown bottles. For some reason Mal glanced around just as she started toward him. A slow smile spread over his ruggedly handsome face and he swivelled his stool to. face her. When Abbie reached him, he slid an arm around her waist and casually pulled her between his legs, then just as casually kissed her hello. Her total lack of response made him frown.
‘Looks like the stag party’s over,’ Tony drawled from the next stool. ‘Guess I’ll call it a night.’
Abbie turned within the circle of Mal’s arm, ‘Please don’t leave on my account. I won’t be staying.’
He shook his head with a grin as he slid off the stool. ‘Just teasin’, Miss Abigail. I was leaving anyway—have to check in with the Dragon Lady. If I don’t, she’ll probably come looking for me.’ He reached for her hand and shook it, his grip firm. ‘Good luck, you two. See you at the Capitol.’
‘He’s a nice man,’ Abbie observed as she watched Tony leave.
Mal turned her to face him. His hands rested lightly at her waist, but his thighs closed until they held her pelvis in a secure grip. ‘I’m a nice man, too.’
‘You have your moments,’ she conceded with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm. ‘How long have you and Tony known each other?’
‘Practically all our lives. His dad owns the feed and grain store in town. We grew up together.’ His hands shifted to her back and discovered the taut muscles there. He tried to pull her closer. Abbie stiffened in resistance. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, frowning.
‘Your friend the Dragon Lady just paid me a visit.’
Mal swore under his breath. Then he looked at her closely for the first time since she’d arrived, taking in the angry set of her jaw and the stormy green of her irises.
‘Let’s move to a table,’ he said, clasping her hand as he vacated the bar stool. ‘We’ll order that hot meal I owe you, but first I suspect you could use a drink.’
When they were both seated at a small corner table and a waitress had taken their order, he scooted his chair next to hers so that he could drape his arm over her shoulders.
‘Do you have to sit so close?’ Abbie complained.’
‘Yes,’ he said firmly. ‘It’s obvious that Roxie put a bee in your bonnet about something, and now you’re using whatever she said as an excuse to give me the cold shoulder. But if you think I’ll let you freeze me out, Abigail Prudence Kincaid, you can think again. We both know I can melt that iceberg you’re hiding behind.’ His voice suddenly deepened. His fingers toyed with her earlobe. ‘Want me to prove it?’
Fortunately the waitress chose that moment to return with their drink order—a Tom Collins and another bottle of beer. Abbie snatched at the tall, frosty glass as if she’d just spent a month in the desert.
Mal let her take a couple of long sips, then removed the drink from her hand and set it back on the table. ‘Take it easy,’ he drawled. ‘Let’s get some food in your stomach before you finish that off. I want you thawed, not pickled.’
‘What makes you think I give a damn what you want?’ she replied crossly.
He leaned closer, his breath a soft caress against her cheek. ‘Because you want the same two things,’ he said in a husky murmur. ‘To beat Roxanne and for us to make love, not necessarily in that order. Tell me I’m wrong.’
Abbie wished she could. She turned her head to give him a resentful look. His warm, intimate gaze was waiting to capture and hold hers. Her heart knocked against her ribs. Breathing suddenly required a conscious effort. ‘You’re not wrong,’ she heard herself murmur.
Desire flared in Mal’s eyes. He leaned closer still, his fingers slipping into her hair as he started to tilt her head bade. Abbie’s lips parted in anticipation. But then he suddenly seemed to remember where they were. His hand dropped back to her shoulder and he inhaled a deep, ragged breath as he retreated several inches.
‘What were we talking about?’ he asked roughly.
The angry tension that had gripped Abbie since she left their room suddenly melted away. ‘Roxanne,’ she said with a tiny smile.
Mal grimaced and reached for his beer. ‘Right. Roxanne. So, what did she say that put you in such a rotten mood?’
‘Where to begin?’ she said drily. ‘For one thing, she informed me that she intends to be Mrs Malachi Garrett within three months.’
Mal’s bottle slammed down on the table so hard that beer spurted out the top. ‘The hell she does!’
‘She also warned me not to get in her way. She said she can be a real bitch when she’s crossed.’
His mouth twisted in derision. ‘That may be the only honest claim she’s made in years. Damn the woman! I’m sorry, Abigail. If I hadn’t come out with Tony, she wouldn’t have had a chance to corner you.’
‘It wasn’t your fault,’ Abbie told him. The waitress arrived with her steak dinner. She waited until the woman had returned to her station, then added, ‘Anyway, our little skirmish wasn’t entirely one-sided. I managed to get in a couple of shots.’
‘I’ll bet you did,’ Mal said with a grin. ‘Since I didn’t have a ringside seat, why don’t you give me a blow-by-blow account.’
‘Forget it,’ she said emphatically as she removed his arm from her shoulders. ‘It’s your turn to talk. You can tell me what you found out from Tony while I devour this steak.’
What he’d found out from Tony was encouraging. Roxanne’s engine wasn’t performing as well as she’d expected. So far they had made three stops for minor adjustments. Each adjustment had improved the engine’s fuel-efficiency, but Roxanne still wasn’t satisfied.
‘Did he say what kind of mileage they’re getting?’ Abbie asked between bites.
‘He claimed they’re averaging fifty-six miles per gallon, but I suspect he was fudging a little. The actual figure is probably closer to sixty-six.’
‘Even if you’re right, we’re still using less than they are,’ she pointed out. ‘Assuming we don’t have any problems between here and Washington, you would win the bet.’
‘Right,’ Mal said, but he didn’t sound as convinced as Abbie would have liked. She finished the last of her baked potato and sat back to study him. The creases between his eyebrows had reappeared, a sure sign that something was troubling him.
‘What’s wrong?’ she asked in concern.
‘I wish I knew,’ he said irritably. ‘The engine’s performing even better than I expected. Our mileage figures are terrific and we’re ahead of schedule, time-wise.’
‘But?’ Abbie prompted.
His shoulders moved in a restless shrug. ‘Maybe I’m just being neurotic, but I can’t shake the feeling that we’re due for some bad luck. Things have been going too well.’
Abbie impulsively reached for his hand. ‘If it would mike you feel better, I could slip out while you’re asleep tonight and sabotage the car,’ she teased. ‘Unfortunately I wouldn’t have any idea what wires to pull loose or anything technical like that, but I could turn on the headlights so the battery would be dead in the morning.’
Mal couldn’t quite suppress a smile. ‘You’d really do that for me? I’m touched.’
‘It wouldn’t be any trouble,’ she assured him.
His smile spread to his eyes and he curled his fingers around hers, imprisoning her hand in a warm, possessive grip. ‘Do you want dessert?’
His voice was suddenly deeper, rougher. As Abbie watched, mesmerised, the warm glow in his eyes became a flickering golden flame.
‘No,’ she said in a breathless whisper.
He lifted her hand to his mouth and gently bit the heel of her thumb. ‘What do you want?’
For a moment Abbie forgot how to breathe. She closed her eyes, hoping that if she didn’t look at him she would be able to resist temptation. Then his tongue stabbed at the centre of her palm. She gasped in reaction.
‘Tell me,’ he murmured insistently. ‘Open your eyes and look at me, and tell me what you want.’
Her lashes fluttered against her cheeks as she made a last-ditch effort to resist the inevitable. When she reluctantly opened her eyes, the heat and hunger she saw in his destroyed the last remaining trace of her will-power.
‘You.’
Apparently it was the answer Mal had been after. He shot out of his chair, pulling her up with him, jarring the table in his haste, then paused a moment to dig into his pocket for a couple of bills, which he tossed down without bothering to check the denominations. He only stopped long enough to pay the cashier. As soon as they were outside, he scooped Abbie up in his arms.
‘Mal?’ she said breathlessly, hastily hooking an arm around his neck.
‘What?’ They rounded the corner at the rear of the building. He stepped over a small hedge without breaking stride.
‘Do you realise that you left the waitress a forty-dollar tip?’
He didn’t respond, walking right through the middle of a bed of geraniums, evidently determined to take the shortest possible route to their room even if it meant demolishing a few flower-beds along the way.
‘You said we wouldn’t make love tonight,’ Abbie reminded him.
‘I changed my mind.’
‘Oh. Well, being carried off into the night like this is very romantic and all, but I’d appreciate a few kisses, at least, before we fall into bed.’
He glanced down at her, his expression grim. ‘If I kiss you know, we’ll never make it to the room.’
Abbie tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry. ‘In that case, I guess I can wait,’ she said in a voice she scarcely recognised as her own.
When they reached the door he set her firmly down to fish in his pocket for the room key, swearing softly but savagely when he couldn’t immediately locate it, then seized her wrist and hauled her inside. Abbie almost tripped over the threshold. The door slammed shut. She stood in the darkness beside it for all of two seconds before his hands found her and dragged her against him.
