Don’t Call Me Sweetheart (8 page)

“Maybe not,” he said, “but we both know you enjoyed it as
much as I did.”

“I didn’t!” The look in Christian’s slanted obsidian eyes
told Whitney he knew she was lying through her teeth…and that he wasn’t done
with her yet.

“Deny it all you want, sweet thing but if I didn’t know
better I’d think you were the one providing all the research notes for those
ridiculous romantic fantasies your boss churns out.”

Whitney gasped at his blatant audacity. Of its own volition
her hand streaked out and caught him square across the face with a slap so
forceful her hand stung. She didn’t need to be told that she had made a monstrous
mistake.

All traces of civility left Christian as he firmly grasped
Whitney’s wrists with one of his hands. In the span of a single heartbeat he
was within inches of her terrified face, purposefully overlooking her trembling
body trapped against his own. He knew he had provoked her reaction with his
disparaging remarks about Lane McLaughlin’s books but at the moment he didn’t
care. His life had gone to hell just as this evening was. His parents were dead
and mountainous debts threatened his inheritance. Those were situations that he
hadn’t had any control over but this one he did.

His whipcord voice and icy words chilled any remnants of
fire and passion left between them. “Don’t ever hit me again, Whitney. If you
do, I won’t stop with just a few kisses designed to put you in your place. I
would never hurt you but I’ll make sure you can’t lie to yourself about the
desire inside you.”

He paused to allow the callous words to sink in. He knew he
was being unfair, taking out his frustrations on the innocent woman staring up
at him as if he was a madman but he was beyond caring. The pain of losing his
parents had been bottled up for far too long, festering and feeding upon
itself. He shouldn’t have lost the people that he loved but he had. He shouldn’t
be selling his soul to hold onto the legacy they had left him but he was. And
he shouldn’t be arguing with the most beautiful woman he could ever recall
meeting but he was powerless to stop himself. Whitney’s words had stirred to
life the dangerous emotions he had tried so hard to keep locked away.

“Yes, you should be scared, little girl.”

To ensure Whitney completely comprehended his meaning,
Christian once again captured her lips with a searing, punishing kiss. He
plundered her mouth with his own, tasting her, wanting her, wanting more. Whitney
steeled herself against him, trying to contain the overpowering urge to respond
to even this harsh ecstasy. But her lips responded, unbidden, unbridled,
softening beneath the harsh onslaught and turning it back upon her tormentor.

“Sweet Jesus!” Christian thought wildly as he tried to
control his surging reaction to the beauty in his arms. What kind of a woman
was this that she could so quickly turn rage into rapture? He broke away and
started the car. The tires screeched as he threw the vehicle into gear and tore
through the parking lot.

“Better tell me which way to go, sweet. I’m not the cab
taking type.”

Whitney seethed silently to herself, saying nothing but
gesturing where he needed to turn until they were on the freeway that led to
her estate. She didn’t want to give Christian the satisfaction of knowing he
had left her so shaken. So he had meant to humiliate her with his kisses, had
he? What had she done to make him so angry? If anyone had a right to be mad it
was her. He had ripped her pseudonym’s reputation to shreds and denigrated the
very essence of her talents. She tried to concentrate on the criticisms he had
hurled at her alter ego but found it impossible to recall anything other than
the impression of blazing kisses still warm on her lips.

Closing her eyes she focused on how angry his features had
been. In her mind she replayed each arrogant word he had uttered since they had
left the studio. Had she really spent any time at all fantasizing over this
man? How could she have been such a fool! He was no different from the rest. They
had only wanted her for her money. Christian didn’t know about that aspect of
her life, so he had obviously decided to take another, far more precious
treasure from her. And she had no intention of ever giving up her self-respect
for another person’s agenda.

Like he’d said, deny it all you want but you liked the
way he made you feel and you know it.

Whitney tried to banish the voice reminding her of her
brazen behavior but couldn’t. She had responded to him, encouraged him,
answered him. In Christian’s arms she forgot who she was, or even why she
existed. He made her forget everything except the magic of his touch on her
oh-so-willing body.

Whitney knew that if she was going to preserve her sanity
she had to get away from him. Far, far away. She prayed for the ride and the
evening, to end.

Careening to a stop in front of the house Christian started
to get out but Whitney jumped from the car before he could open the driver’s
side door.

Turning back she bent forward to look through the open door
and said in a stilted voice laced with hurt, “Thank you so much for such an
enlightening evening. I wish you all the luck you deservewith your
career. And here’s a word of advice. Don’t walk around this town biting the
hand that feeds you. New York has a habit of chewing people like you up and
spitting them out.”

She held her hand out for the keys. Snatching them from
Christian, she whirled and ran into the house, leaving him to stare after her. As
the front door slammed forcefully behind her he felt his anger ebb slowly away
and a smile spread across his face despite the fact he was a long way from his
hotel. The cab fee to get back was going to set him back more than a little. Damned
if the author’s fiery assistant wasn’t something though!

“What do you mean she’s not here?” Christian demanded
angrily as he stormed past a startled Elizabeth and into Lane McLaughlin’s
home. He was getting tired of the excuses offered for Whitney’s week-long absence
following their quarrel. Hell, he reminded himself harshly. They hadn’t
quarreled, they’d declared war. And since then, he’d been handed a steady
stream of feeble explanations why he couldn’t see her.

Lane McLaughlin had decided she needed a sabbatical after
completing her novel, so it seemed she’d given Whitney a vacation as well. The
housekeeper claimed to have no clue where Whitney had gone but Christian put
little stock in her story. Oh, he’d been told he was welcome to contact Tess,
or Lane McLaughlin, if he wanted information regarding Whitney’s whereabouts. But
Lane McLaughlin was just as inaccessible as her secretary and Tess wasn’t
talking.

He had tried repeatedly to contact Whitney since that
disastrous evening when he had lost control of himself, hoping that she would
find it in her heart to accept his apology. If he could find the right words to
make her understand why he had acted so despicably, he might be able to repair
some of the damage he had caused.

When leaving message after message failed to produce results
he turned to Tess. But she insisted she didn’t know where Whitney had gone
either and now after six straight days of stonewalling Christian wasn’t in the
mood for more. Tess was keeping him supplied with steady work but the strenuous
schedule couldn’t erase his guilt. He had hurt Whitney so badly she had felt
the need to leave town. And it was tearing him up inside.

He wanted to put the memory of her out of his mind, to get
on with his objective but he couldn’t. Thoughts of Whitney, soft and willing in
his arms the way she had been the morning of the photo session filled the long,
lonely nights spent in the extra bedroom Tess was letting him use. The touch of
her lips filtered through his dreams and more often than not he woke to find he
had been calling her name out loud. Her sweet face haunted him, her large green
eyes filled with a pain that he alone was responsible for. The image plagued
him night and day and he knew he wouldn’t rest until he found her.

Moving quickly, Christian made his way through an
antique-laden living room, a dining room, then down a long hallway, shouting
for Whitney each step of the way. The flustered housekeeper huffed and puffed
her way behind him, declaring between gasps that Miss Whitney was not at home,
a fact that Christian stubbornly refused to believe this time.

Turning abruptly at the end of the hall, he snapped in
frustration at the flustered woman, “Find someone who knows where she is then,
because I’m not leaving this house until I find her.”

He continued to open doors, poking his head purposefully
into room after room. He noted with silent appreciation the lovely antique
furnishings and the soft ambiance they created, reminiscent of a bygone era
when life was so much simpler. For a moment he was back at Mountain Meadow Inn
where over the years his mother had painstakingly furnished her home in much
the same manner, filling the rooms with items designed to bring to mind a
gentler life. At that moment his wounded soul wanted nothing more than to go
home. But first he had unfinished business to see to.

Christian opened the last door in a short upstairs hallway
and instinctively discerned that this was where Whitney slept. Something had
drawn him to this place, an unnamed force beyond his ability to comprehend, or
understand. As though he was looking through a window in time he pictured
Whitney moving about the room, her presence filling the room with a profound
sense of… What? Beauty, of course. Love, perhaps. Romance… Yes, that was what
the room spoke to him of. And Christian knew that here, among these beautiful
surroundings, was where Whitney belonged and for some reason it pleased him
greatly.

He crossed to the massive bed dominating the center of the
room and slowly ran his hand across the snowy lace coverlet. It felt cold to
the touch, much like the expression in his searching eyes as they settled on
the vanity mirror. Stepping in front of the glass Christian stared hard at his
reflection, wondering if Whitney saw in him the same flaws he did. Before him
stood a man filled with self-loathing for the manner in which he had treated an
innocent woman, a woman who had trusted him enough to accompany him for an
evening on the town. A woman who had trusted him to behave as a gentleman
should. A woman who now had every reason to hate him.

He wouldn’t blame her if she did. Whitney had been right
when she had said he had no right to kiss her like he had. Christian’s eyes
turned to granite as they bored into his reflection’s. He was paying a high
price for his rashness this time. He prayed Whitney wasn’t as well.

He conceded he wasn’t going to accomplish anything further
there today and turned to go. He would talk to Tess one more time. He’d wring
her pretty little neck if he had to, whatever it took to find out where Whitney
had gone.

With a last backward glance into the mirror Christian vowed
that someday he would see Whitney again. There was nowhere she could hide that
he wouldn’t find her. He’d make her understand what had happened. Make her
realize how terribly wrong he had been. She was a prize worth waiting for and
he could be a very patient man.

* * * **

“Look, Romeo,” Tess began before pausing to pour herself
another glass of chablis. “You’ve asked me at least a hundred times already
where Whitney is and I’ve told you. Quite frankly I don’t know.”

The thunderous look on Christian’s face prompted Tess to
continue in an attempt to placate him. “I’m sure she just needed a little time
to herself. She’ll be back in the city in no time. She’s just not used to men
who come on as strong as you did in the studio that day, you know? Couldn’t you
tell she was wet behind the ears?”

That remark earned her another glance which told her that he
knew more than he was telling her. Tess was beginning to feel uneasy. She had
been worried about Whitney too and Christian’s behavior was doing nothing to alleviate
the apprehension gnawing at her belly. It wasn’t like Whitney to just disappear
without a word. In the past after finishing a book she would take some time off
and quite often Tess would go with her. But this time she had simply left town
without a phone call, a note, without anything at all.

Studying Christian’s granite profile, a nagging question
beat an irritating staccato in her mind. What if Whitney hadn’t been able to
stop Christian from coming on to her? He might not have been able to keep his
hands off her. She was a truly beautiful woman and it had been blatantly
obvious to everyone, with the exception of Whitney herself, that Christian was
attracted to her. Tess had hoped for just such a reaction. But what if it had
gone too far? What if Whitney had ended up hurt and that was why she had run
away? Tess decided that she would have to resolve the issue before she drove
herself crazy imagining the worst.

“Christian Warrington Dade! So help me God, if you laid a
hand on that poor, unsuspecting girl I’ll kill you!”

Tess charged across the room to where Christian had been
leaning against a sun-splashed wall in her living room and jabbed her finger
sharply into his chest. His dark, scowling features told her she had hit the
nail on the head and she instantly lost her temper.

“Just what didyou do to her? She doesn’t have any
experience with men like you.”

“Don’t you think I feel bad enough already,” Christian
blazed back at her, his black eyes snapping with self-directed anger.

“You didn’t…uhmmm…you didn’t finish…” Tess sputtered, not
able to put into words what was too horrible to imagine. She had thrown Whitney
to the wolves, well at least to this black-hearted one. How could she have not
seen this coming? How could she have done that to her best friend?

“No!” Christian bellowed back at her. Tess heaved a huge
sigh of relief.

“Well, whatever you did was enough to scare the hell out of
her and send her God only knows where. She could be anywhere, you know.”

“She’ll have to be back and ready for work whenever that
woman calling herself an author decides to take up writing again, won’t she?”
Christian demanded as he crossed to pour himself a stiff drink. He downed it
quickly and chased it with a second.

“Not necessarily.” Then the full impact of what Christian
had said hit Tess. “You didn’t stupidly refer to Lane McLaughlin in that exact
manner in front of Whitney did you?” she gasped. The pieces of the puzzle were
slowly coming together.

“I believe I made a comment close to it that seemed to get
Whitney a little riled up.”

“Of all the idiotic…” Tess muttered under her breath,
glaring in Christian’s direction. She flopped down on a pastel-striped green
chair and drew a deep breath before addressing Christian in much the same
manner a parent would an errant child who had foolishly made an error in
judgment.

“I can’t believe that with all your supposed ‘experience’
with women you were dense enough to actually speak ill of Whitney’s boss in
front of her, let alone the fact that you’re riding on the shirttails of the
same woman’s success yourself.”

Definitely not the right thing to say. Christian’s livid
face was within inches of her own before Tess had a chance to finish the last word.

“I don’t need you, or Whitney, or anyone else for that
matter, to remind me that I am relying on that woman and others just like her
to get me out of the mess I’m in.” Tess could see his nostrils flare with each
carefully chosen word.

“Settle down there, tiger. This is me remember. Good ol’
Tess, your friend. And in case you’ve forgotten, your onlyfriend at the
moment.”

Christian was not amused. “I’m here to do a job, a dirty,
nasty little job and as soon as it’s over I’ll be out of here. Until then, I do
not want to be told how grateful I should be to have people admire me or
fantasize about me. Thanks but no thanks.” His voice was tight and scornful,
almost acidic and Tess drew back involuntarily.

“You’ll get what you want from me and I’ll get what I need. Money.
Lots of it. Then I’ll be able to turn my back on this regrettable part of my
life and get on with something that matters more than this ever could, do you
understand?”

“I understand you’re behaving like a world-class ass!” Anger
crept into Tess’ voice in response to his. “And if this is the way you talked
to Whitney I can understand why she would want to put as much distance between
the two of you as she could. At the moment I think it sounds like a good idea
myself.”

Christian stared at her retreating back as she swept from
the room, leaving him to wonder how he had managed to let his temper lead him
to the brink of disaster once again. He needed to talk to someone about all
that had gone on lately, not explode whenever some hapless person pressed the
wrong emotional button. He’d already screwed things up with Whitney. He didn’t
need to let the same thing happen with Tess.

He caught up to her on the patio where she stood looking
across her finely sculpted garden and its offering of early spring blooms.

“I’m sorry, Tess,” Christian apologized catching her arm and
turning her in his direction. His voice took on an entirely different tone as
he sought to correct his mistake. “I had no business yelling at you like that. In
fact, I deserve every word you said.”

Tess refused to look at him but grudgingly conceded, “Yes,
you do. Especially the part about being an ass.”

His laughter rang out and she found she couldn’t stay mad at
him. She had never been able to for long anyway.

Turning searching blue eyes to his, Tess asked again, with
more concern this time, “Can you tell me what happened that night that would
have made Whitney want to leave?”

“We argued about the type of books Lane McLaughlin writes
and when I ran out of things to say I kissed her.”

“That’s it. You just kissed her? You’re sure you didn’t give
your hands permission to map out the lay of the land?”

Christian had the good grace to look away giving Tess all
the answer she needed.

“You really are a big dumb ox, you know?” As his face
started to cloud over again she added, “Oh, just stop it. There’s no reason to
get all mad again. If I had spent the evening with you and first you denigrated
my employer, who, by the way Whitney is extremely close to, then I found you
taking more candy from the jar than you asked for, you wouldn’t find me sitting
by the phone either. We’ll just have to let her decide when she’s ready to come
back.”

“But what about her job?”

“She doesn’t need that job, or any other job for that matter.
Her parents left her so well off that she wouldn’t have to work a day in her
life if she chose not to. She just does it to have something to occupy her time
now that she’s all alone.” For Tess, lying came as second nature and she had
perfected it to an art. “So don’t be surprised to find that she’s decided to
quit playing secretary and take up a new hobby for a while.”

“Oh.” He jammed his hands into his pockets and contemplated
the toe of his boots for a few seconds. “Then where does she go when she needs
to get out of town?” Christian asked brusquely, not liking the way the
conversation was going.

“Boy, you really have it for her bad, don’t you, Christian?”
Tess had perched herself on the balustrade encircling the patio and was
gleefully swinging her legs back and forth as she teased him. She might have
forgiven him for his earlier outburst but she was far from ready to forget it,
or let him off the hook without a few repercussions. “Don’t you have a dozen or
so tellers and bookkeepers anxiously waiting for you to get back to Tacoma?”