Taboo (13 page)

"Not good enough. I want you to be
in
love with me." His gaze roved over her face, down to her breasts, then lingered at her lap, a heavy-lidded gaze that was laden with sexuality. "You're flushed. Your nipples are tight. You want me. That's not good enough, either."

She slid, like a drowning man going under, into the inky blackness that beckoned. Cammie swallowed hard, wet her lips.

Grant leaned forward. With the propriety of a husband, he stroked his fingertips over her breast, then casually withdrew.

She ached to call him back, to plead for more. But she didn't dare.

"Tell me, Cammie," he whispered, "are you in love with me?"

Was she? Oh, Lord, she didn't know. It was too much, too soon, and too possibly true.

"We can't forget the people we love," she said, frantic to remember what stood between them.

Clasping the locket tight, she scanned the room for portraits, for handmade reminders of why she couldn't do this, shouldn't even think it. He was steering her on a one-way course of no return, and she flailed blindly against the tide.

"That again," he snorted impatiently. "Damn, why do you always have to go back to that?"

"Because it's there, Grant. It exists and it won't go away. You've never lost a family. I
have.
It's torture. It's the most horrible, excruciating thing in my life. Your family is all that I've got and you're asking me to risk giving it up. If you love me the way you say you do, how can you expect me to go through that again?"

"How? I'll tell you
how.
While you've been coping with torture, I've been living in agony. What do you think it's done to
me?
Watching other men touch you in a way I never could, seeing an engagement ring on your finger while I had to cough up a hearty 'congratulations,' when it was all I could do not to puke it made me so sick. Can you imagine what
that
was like?"

"No." Unwillingly, her heart hurt for him while the bitterness in his voice flailed her. "No, I never knew. You never let it show."

"Well, now you know. You lost your family, and those are wounds that can never heal. But my wounds go deep, too, Cammie. While you were getting on with your life, I had to watch from the sidelines without a snowball's chance in hell of competing. It was killing me by inches. The success, the women, the man who had it all... God, what a joke." He laughed harshly. "I couldn't have the only thing I really wanted. Without you, all I had meant nothing."

The enormity of his emotional need stunned her, and also stoked a yearning in her to appease the hunger she had created. His honesty had unshrouded the deepest place in her heart. The place she had buried along with her loved ones, that was so empty and aching she couldn't bear to take it out, examine it, and brave the chance of ever losing the emotional distance that kept her safe—
and
forever alone.

His eyes burned into hers without apology, with a stark rawness that could only be satisfied with a melding of their souls. With total possession of each other's hearts. With a physical mating of primal intensity.

His need was absolute. It frightened her. And she hated her cowardice.

Take the chance,
came the whisper from the depths of unearthed need.
If you take it, it's all or nothing and you've got no guarantees,
countered the voice of reason
.
The echo of fear mocked her without pity:
If it doesn't work, you could lose more than family, more than your heart. To give him what he wants means reopening the scab. It's a wound you're so afraid to coonfront, it keeps on running
...
just the same as you.

The past gaped open like a yawning abyss. She felt herself teetering, the sensation akin to vertigo. It was too much like hearing a scratch coming from the inside of a coffin. Creeping closer to it, compelled to know what lay within, and yet terrified to discover what might reach out from the other side of darkness. Life? Or something ominous, a nightmare waiting to justify her fear?

"What you want is more than I can give, Grant." Her heart sank at the sound of her own words.

"No." He stood and reached for her. She couldn't stop her trembling as he pulled her to her feet, and he made it worse by running his hands over her arms, twining his fingers through her hair, then locking her body against his. "It's not that you
can't.
Because you
will.
It's only a matter of time."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I know you better than anyone else. Sometimes, I think, better than you know yourself. And because when I hold you, your body gives me the very promises you're fighting so hard to deny."

It was true, and she knew it. She was losing the battle. It was only a matter of time before she could no longer hide—from him, or herself. Grant had opened a door long shut. She had dared to peek, and had quickly retreated.

But now it would haunt her, the ghosts she'd glimpsed and the knowledge of what could be, if only she was strong and courageous enough to take the risk.

She looked into his face, a face of honesty, of depth, and character. She looked into the face of a man she was falling in love with, a man she was only now coming to know.

"Kiss me, Grant." The words came naturally, with a rightness that surprised her. Just to make sure, she gathered her courage and said again, "Kiss me now... hard and long and deep."

Chapter 8

"Thank you for joining us. We hope to see you again tomorrow at six and ten. This is Cammie Walker..."

"And this is Russ Aberdeen, saying—"

"Good night," they said in unison.

Cammie kept her professional smile firmly in place until the floor manager signaled they were off the air.

"Whew," she breathed, letting her mouth relax. "What a night, huh, big guy?"

"You can say that again," Russ agreed readily. "What say we wrap up and blow this pop stand?"

"Sounds good to me." Pushing her chair back she got up and stretched. "Sure you don't mind giving me a lift home?"

"Hey, are you kidding? This is the closest I've gotten to making points with you."

She laughed. "Get outta here. I swear, if I have one more problem with that car, I'm in the market for a new one. The repairs would have been finished today except they had to scrounge for prehistoric parts. But at least the mechanic promised I'd have my wheels back by tomorrow."

"Darn," Russ said, grinning. "Maybe I can shove some bribe money under the table and get that extended a few days."

"Save your money, Russ, and spend it on one of your many fans."

"Which unfortunately doesn't include you," he said wryly.

While they finished up, Cammie reflected that she missed this kind of lighthearted banter with Grant. Was it possible they could recapture an essence of the old days once they were alone at the cottage?

They were making the short trip together—not that she hadn't had second thoughts. After picking up the phone twice, she'd dialed their parents' number, then hung up before it could ring. Not only had she decided she couldn't get out of the situation without making waves, in her heart of hearts, she knew she didn't want to.

She was making progress, she told herself. At least she'd been honest enough to admit she wanted this time alone with him. Unwise as it was, as much as it still terrified her, she wanted it.

"What've you got planned for your vacation, Cammie?" Russ asked as they walked through the parking lot together.

"Some much-needed R&R, Russ," she answered, knowing rest and relaxation was probably the last purpose this vacation would serve. Her mind immediately shied away from the possibilities that awaited her.

"Cammie. Stop."

She turned at the sound of Grant's voice while Russ unlocked the passenger side of his car. It coincided with a loud
thud
as Grant nearly slammed his own door shut.

"Grant! What are you doing here?" Her heart went into double time while her stomach decided to catch butterflies.

His towering presence loomed over her and Russ, who was shorter by several inches and a good fifty pounds lighter. Grant stared from one to the other until Cammie reached up self-consciously to smooth down her hair, while last night's parting kiss shot sparks through her memory.

"I thought you might need a ride home," he said in a tight voice.

"That's okay," Russ said. "I promised Cammie a ride home already. You're Grant Kennedy, Cammie's brother, aren't you? I think we met at a station party last Christmas. Nice seeing you again." He offered his hand.

Grant stared at it with ill-disguised antagonism before gripping it in a bone-crushing shake. Russ's smile wavered uncertainly while he tried to disengage himself from the overt warning.

Cammie stared speechless as several tense seconds ticked by. Grant was jealous! She'd never seen him glare at someone with open hostility before. The realization was oddly flattering. Just as his behavior toward her co-worker was totally out of line.

"My car wasn't fixed yet, so Russ offered me a ride home," she explained quickly, trying to defuse the situation.

"How kind." Grant released Russ's hand and draped a proprietary arm over her shoulders. "I'll take Cammie home. We have vacation plans to discuss."

Russ stared long and consideringly, absorbing the implicit intimacy in Grant's gesture. Anxiety coiled tight inside Cammie.

After a moment, Russ shrugged. "Sorry. I didn't realize it was a family affair."

"It's not!" she automatically denied, desperate to end the awkward scene. Grant's hand slid down to her waist and pulled her close; Russ's eyes followed the movement. Good heavens, she thought, what kind of conclusions was he drawing?

The obvious ones, of course, she admitted to herself.

"Um, Russ? Grant's not exactly my brother," she said hastily. She could almost feel Grant's smile of satisfaction with the admission. "I mean... I'm adopted and—"

"Enough said." Russ took a step back. "I don't mean to stare. I just wasn't expecting my competition to be so close to home."

Cammie clenched and unclenched the fabric of her skirt, forcing herself not to make any more flustered excuses. Without warning her private life had just become public knowledge. It made her uneasy, wondering what kind of gossip might now spread behind her back.

"Then I'm glad to set the record straight." Grant parted on that note, pulling her in the direction of his parked car. Cammie hazarded a nervous backward glance at Russ, who was openly scrutinizing them.

"See you tomorrow night, Russ," she managed to say around the knot of anxiety in her throat. Then she quickened her pace to keep up with Grant's lengthening strides.

Once they were mercifully alone in his car, Cammie leaned her head back and took several deep breaths, trying to still the awful sense of fatality welling within her. Facing Grant as he revved the engine, she gazed reproachfully at him.

"What in heaven's name got into you?" she demanded. "You managed quite a scene in front of someone I have to work with daily, Grant."

"Damn right," he said tautly as he peeled out of the parking lot and made fast tracks down the road. "And I'd like to know what got into you. Twenty-four hours ago I was the only man on your agenda, and tonight I catch you getting into a car with some jerk who's got the hots for you."

"He's my co-anchor, for heaven's sake!"

"Who also happens to have other things on his mind besides the news."

"Quit being ridiculous."

"You told me a month ago he was hitting on you."

Cammie said nothing since she couldn't retract what she had indeed told Grant. Several miles slid past while she squirmed and Grant remained silent. When he spoke it was with the finalized sound of nails sinking into hard wood.

"If you think I'm about to let some pretty boy like Russ or anyone else move in on my territory, you'd better think again."

Cammie reflexively pressed her foot into the floorboard as he rounded a sharp curve.

"That doesn't give you the right to make my work relations strained," she said. "What am I supposed to say when the secret's out?"