Razzmatazz-DDL (12 page)

“You are not a gentleman!” she spat.

“I never professed to be.” She watched him scoop the other pillow up from the floor, and even clutching a feather pillow in each arm, the man still managed to look anything but ridiculous.

She braced herself.

He angled his head in curiosity. “Are you waiting for something?”

“You’re going to throw them at me, aren’t you?”

“No.” He tossed first one, then the other, at the headboard. They landed miraculously in place, side by side...ready for use.

She caught her breath and parted her lips in expectation. Again he hit her with a quizzical look. “Are you sure you aren’t waiting for something?”

“You know good and well what I’m waiting for.”

“Humor me with an explanation.”

She ground her teeth. “Now that you’ve forced me to admit that I’m some kind of idiot who wants all these wild things to happen to her, now you’re going to move in for the kill, aren’t you? And you’re so good at it. You’ll smile that dazzling smile and you’ll kiss me, because you know I can’t resist either. And you’ll convince me I want to say yes, and make me believe it was my own darn idea!”

“Are you enjoying this little fantasy you’ve dreamed up?”

“What?”

“I really hate to disappoint you. In fact, it’s damn near killing me to disappoint you. But I have no intention of kissing you, of touching you....” Only his voice registered the heavy strain he was under.

“You don’t?” Her anger seemed to seep out of her like air from a balloon.

“Your virtue will remain intact, Kennie, if you’re determined to wait for me to ‘steal’ it from you,” Alex remarked placidly, adjusting the lapels of his jacket. Only the smoldering heat of his gaze as it flickered across her belied his nonchalant tone as he continued, “Are you hungry?”

“Tahoe?” she asked softly.

“That, sweet Kennie, is totally and entirely up to you.”

Her shoulders slumped. “I don’t think I could eat a thing.”

“A first.”

Where was the laughter? She felt a bitter twist in her stomach. This wasn’t the way things were supposed to happen. This wasn’t the way things were supposed to feel between them.

“I’m going downstairs to grab a bite,” he said.

She turned her back to him. The sound of the door clicking shut released a tidal wave of frustration. What the hell was she doing here? She ought to head for Cannon International as fast as the hotel limousine could carry her. Spending the night in a hard, molded plastic chair was nothing compared to what she was suffering right now in this room, knowing that Alex Carruthers would return and, with him, temptation enough to crack a marble saint.

And she was no saint, and she wasn’t made of marble. And she must be crazy, but she wanted him so badly. His smile might be hiding a dozen secrets, but it warmed her to the core. His kiss might be fleeting, but it unleashed something beautiful that she’d never tasted before. And he was right, darn him. He hadn’t convinced her to do a thing that she hadn’t wanted to do, deep down in her soul.

She paced to the window and snatched the clip from her hair, restlessly ruffling her fingers through the curls that tumbled onto her shoulders. She had come to Reno alone even though everyone had told her she was crazy. Mama had given her the can of Mace; Rusk had bought her the air horn, handed to her along with a dark, glowering look. But she was so sick and tired of dusty Tahoka Springs, of pink-and-silver Lady Ambrosia bottles, of the same faces every day of her life.

She raised the heels of her hands to her temples and her arm brushed the breast that had so recently been subjected to Alex’s tender mercies. The tingling reaction was instantaneous; she gasped and folded her arms across her chest, trying to squeeze away the sensation.

She spun away from the window. The best thing to do was to get out of here while the getting was good. This physical response she was suffering was nothing but that: physical. She was allowing herself to be taken over by carnal desires—at that, she laughed out loud. That was a little extreme, even under the circumstances.

Look at things logically, she told herself. She felt a quick shiver of doubt. Logic and reason: Alex Carruthers’s tools of the trade, it seemed. But he wasn’t there to confuse her. Surely she could depend on her own good sense to straighten out her mixed-up condition.

There wasn’t a man in Tahoka Springs she couldn’t hold her own with. She’d also never had a bit of trouble sending them packing if things got out of hand. She ought to be enjoying herself. Flirting and playing, having the vacation of her dreams.

That’s the way Kennie Sue Ledbetter was, always ready for fun but levelheaded enough to see trouble a mile away and steer clear of it.

Alex Carruthers was trouble.

Why? The truth caught her hard in the solar plexus. She dropped onto the corner of the bed in dismay.

Using their marriage as an excuse to keep him away was the flimsiest of excuses. He was right. Their “marriage” truly was no more than a piece of paper. At least legally that’s all it was. If she was brutally honest with herself, she had to admit that this crazy marriage had become all too real for her, but not because a lawyer and a court system were tangling them more tightly in it. It was becoming too real because her own emotions were rooting themselves into it. Her mind knew it was all a farce. Her heart was all too willing to disregard such mundane knowledge.

She was afraid to get too close, because deep inside she knew she’d allowed herself to fall into his trap. She wanted him too badly. Her heart was tempting her to risk what her mind knew was inexcusable. Alex Carruthers was from another world, and this crazy time in Reno was a mere interlude for the both of them.

But did she really want to spend the rest of her life remembering what had almost happened? Was that better than living with what had?

She didn’t bother to comb her hair or grab her bag or even smooth her rumpled skirts. Instead, she headed straight out to find him.

As soon as she shut the door she remembered she didn’t have a key. She whirled, grabbed the knob and jiggled; it was self-locking. Before she could react, a brass key on a plastic ring was dangled before her eyes. Her gaze followed the fingers holding it, then moved up the arm, across the wide shoulder, to Alex’s amused face.

“Forget something?” he asked.

“Just that you can be an arrogant cad.”

“What have I done now?”

She leaned against the door, trying to fight down the anger that was threatening to erupt again. What use was it to get angry? It was like the wind trying to knock down a mountain. “You’re awfully sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

“Not sure at all.” His smile was gone. “Only hopeful.”

“What does this mean to you?” she asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.

“More than you think,” he whispered.

She bit her lip. It was a real knack he had, making her believe him. It worked every time. “Please open the door.”

He turned the key in the lock, pushed the door open and followed her in. “Kiss me,” she demanded.

He pushed it shut and locked it, then faced her. “Are you—”

“Quick. Kiss me.” She stepped toward him, and he accepted her into his arms, his expression puzzled.
 

“Why did you change your mind?” he asked softly.

“I don’t want to talk,” she said, pressing close enough to feel the rasp of his skin against her cheek. “If we talk, I’ll get mad again. I know I will.”

“Are you sure?” he asked insistently.

“From the moment I met you,” she whispered, “I’ve felt like I’ve been in a dream. I don’t know what’s real anymore and what’s just a fantasy. And maybe that’s why I stayed. Because I like the fantasy...and I’m not ready to wake up yet, so just shut up and kiss me.” She raised her chin and presented him with a more accessible target.

He clearly didn’t need any more urging.

She tilted her head back, waiting for the sweet onslaught, and she wasn’t disappointed. She slid her lips open under his, and when his tongue swept lightly across that tender opening, it was her demand that drew him in. She put her arms over his shoulders and felt him shudder. Her moan was muffled by his mouth. Ah, yes...this was what she wanted.

He caressed her neck; she arched and moved away, and he followed, their arms entwined as they circled. As if in a subtle dance performed to music that existed only in their minds, they swayed together, the gentle friction of body against body a sweet torment.

He slid his hand from her waist to midriff, his fingers rubbing hypnotically over her side as his thumb dragged against the tender area under her breast. One by one, with breathtaking leisure, he unfastened her buttons, his fingers brushing her skin and setting it aquiver with response. And then he was spreading her blouse open and nipping the tender flesh where her neck joined her shoulders, and she shivered, then shivered again when he soothed it with his tongue.

The seductive suction of his lips drew the strength out of her legs, stripped her of even the ability to stand alone. She clung to him, allowed him to guide her across the floor. She felt the cool, slick sheets beneath her and the heat of his lips moving ever downward. She felt trapped in a sensuous haze of lips that teased and tormented, of lungs that wouldn’t heed her desperate need for air. He removed her skirt and slid the whisper-soft bikinis from her hips, and then she was lying before him, exposed to his hungry gaze as he stripped his own clothes from his body.

He covered her mouth with his own, robbing her of reason, of sanity, filling her with the dazzling power that was his and his alone.

Again he pulled away, and she raised her head to follow, to have him kiss her again. But he stroked her face, staring at her with an intensity unlike any she’d seen in him before. “You’ve got to understand,” he said. “I won’t hurt you. I won’t let anything hurt you.” And then he guided her hand between them and she felt the tight sheath he wore. Their gazes locked and she tightened her hand around him, and he caught his lip between his teeth and groaned.

With his mouth he found the peak of her breast and suckled and swirled her with pleasure, his hand softly kneading. She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth to muffle a groan of ecstasy and arched up from the bed as his hands traced the soft indentations of her ribs and moved down to her waist, to her hips. He slid one lower.

And this time she couldn’t stifle her cry as he found that most intimate of places, explored and teased while his lips paid homage to the soft skin of her stomach. Her shoulders dug into the satin pillows as he pulled silken sensations from her body with the rasp of his skin against her stomach, his moist kisses, his thorough exploration, drowning the frantic fluttering of uncertainty she no longer had the strength or the will to acknowledge.

And then he was sliding up her body, the contact between them a sweet torment of skin against skin, of hard sinew against soft flesh, of probing desire and yielding submission. And when he entered her, she knew a union of body and soul, a rightness that overwhelmed her dwindling misgivings.

She gazed up at him as he cupped her face in his strong fingers and moved within her, bracing himself on his elbows, so close that the air they breathed was joined and shared. She locked her gaze with his and could not tear it away. Even in the shadows, his eyes gleamed with that inner fire. Even loving her, he seemed to hold back, and she wanted to take his face and pull it closer still, to demand the completeness her body and soul demanded, the joining of spirit as well as flesh. She wanted to hear words of love, of forever, words she would never hear from this man, words she could never give.

So she did the next best thing. She gave herself up to him in body, lifting her hips to meet his slow thrusts, seeking his lips and letting her tongue mimic his, and in so doing, she unleashed the fury of his passion.

She moved with him, then against him, unable to stop the soft gasps that escaped her, unable to control the very air she breathed as she clung to his back, felt the muscles and sinew sliding beneath the damp surface of his skin as he strained against her, felt the tension wrap tighter and tighter until each stroke brought an agony of expectancy. She quivered on the brink of knowledge, dangerous knowledge, for at that moment she knew completely what she risked, and at that moment she was willing to do so.

And then she felt herself quaking around him, heard his groans mingling with her cries and buried her face in his shoulder, tasting salt and heat and glory until at last his movements slowed, then stopped.

She could breathe again. She could think again. And she didn’t want to. The fantasy had become real, and she was afraid.

~o0o~

Long after their pulses had slowed and their breathing had evened, Alex stared at her, afraid to say a word. Her eyes were closed, her body lean and golden and her legs still twined with his. His mind raced ahead, straining for coherency, but all he knew was that his next words could shatter everything.

How was he going to play it?

Careful. He had to try to act as if his whole world hadn’t just split open, swallowed him whole and left him gasping for air. He stroked her soft shoulder, pressed his lips against it and fought for something to say that was sensitive but noncommittal.

He couldn’t think of anything.

She sighed and moved closer, her breath wafting over his chest, her hair spilling over his shoulder and filling him with a bizarre craving for exotic fruit. None, however, was more exotic than what they had just shared.

Perhaps he should try humor. Make her laugh, diffuse the emotion that was tightening around him like a vise.

He trailed his hand over her bare spine, grazing the baby-fine down at the small of her back, finding the soft, fleshy curve that was lower still, filling his hand with it. Again she sighed and arched toward him. Again he felt a possessive urge curl through him, the desire for this to be more than a fantasy. That was the frightening part, to be honest. She was already far more than a fantasy to him.

What the hell kind of funny thing was there to say about that?