Lady Love Page 6

It was a challenge. She peeked up at him. “Oh, yes,” she told him. “He’s a friend of long standing.”

  It was her friend Dick Langley, the race car driver. She’d sworn him to secrecy about her true identity when she called him. Dick had been glad to oblige. In his spare time he sat in with a local band and played drums. Just for fun. God knew, he had enough money to do whatever he liked. Besides, he liked to put one over on people. And Merlyn’s masquerade had piqued his interest.

  “What does your friend play?” Cameron asked.

  “Drums,” she told him. “And he’s very good.”

  “A passionate instrument,” he replied casually. Too casually.

  “He’s a passionate man,” she murmured with a secretive smile.

  “I can’t wait to meet him,” Lila said. “He sounds quite interesting.”

  “He’ll wind up in a book if he is,” Cameron muttered.

  “He will not,” Lila grumbled. “I’ve told you a hundred times that I don’t put real people in books. It would be suicide. I’d be sued to the back teeth.”

  “Sorry, Mother,” he said with a dry smile. “I forgot.”

  “No, you didn’t,” Lila countered, rising. “You simply like to start fights, Cam. It’s a bad habit you’ve fallen into.”

  “I’m trying to break it,” he assured her, but the glance he gave Merlyn was far from reassuring. She kept out of his way the rest of the day.

  ***

  Dick Langley delivered her gown—a devastating green velvet—that evening. It was a designer dress that she’d had him bring from her father’s house. He handed her the box as he came in with the band.

  “One masquerade gown, intact, despite the fact that it’s pouring out there,” he said. He was almost as tall as Cameron, but blond and blue-eyed and overdosed with charm. He was using it now, trying—as he had for years—to catch Merlyn’s eye.

  “Thanks for bringing it. And for bringing the group,” she added. “Only the best, you know.”

  “What are you up to, lady?” he asked, moving aside as the other four members of the band filed in, along with the caterers.

  “Something sinful,” she whispered, smiling.

  He bent and brushed his mouth lazily over hers, a teasing, undemanding caress that was pleasant and nothing more. “After the gig’s over, let’s discuss sinful things together.”

  “We’ll see,” she murmured demurely.

  “Devil woman,” he whispered. He winked and turned away toward the large living room, which had been cleared for dancing.

  “An old lover?” Cameron asked from behind her, his eyes glittering as he stared after Dick. He was wearing dark evening clothes, and he smelled of a delicious manly fragrance. Her earlier criticism of his cologne had been pure fabrication.

  “An old friend,” she countered, clutching her box.

  His eyes narrowed on it. “He bought you a dress?” he growled. “For God’s sake…!”

  The assumption made her furious. “So what if he bought me a dress?” she challenged. “What business is it of yours?”

  He glowered down at her. “You’re an employee here.”

  “Not a slave, Mr. Rochester—would you keep that in mind?” she shot back. “If you want me to leave, say so.”

  He looked as if he was about to, when Delle came marching in just ahead of her mother. They were elegantly dressed, Delle in a peach-colored silk dress that reached to the floor and hugged her ample bosom. Mrs. Radner looked stern and formal, as usual, in a lacy black gown with a high Victorian neckline.

  “Not coming to the dance, Miss Forrest?” Mrs. Radner asked coolly, staring at Merlyn’s jeans and shirt.

  “As a matter of fact, I am,” Merlyn replied sweetly, clutching her box. “My dress just arrived. If you’ll excuse me?”

  “Cameron, you’ve hardly said two words to me since we got here,” Delle was complaining as Merlyn scurried upstairs. “Can’t you spare just five minutes?”

  Merlyn almost felt sorry for the girl. She was so infatuated, and Cameron, damn him, was treating her like a piece of candy he wasn’t sure he wanted. Men, she thought angrily, were all alike.

  She passed Lila on the way to her room. The older woman was wearing white, a beautiful gown that, in its simplicity, outshone the Radners’ outfits.

  “Gorgeous,” Merlyn told her. “Halston, isn’t it?”

  Lila looked shocked. “Why, yes.”

  “I thought so. Such fluid lines. Well, I’ll get my gown on and see you later.” She smiled and walked into her room. Oops, she thought as she closed the door. She’d almost given herself away again. A penniless scholar wouldn’t have known a Halston gown on sight. But Merlyn, who’d been fortunate enough to have her trousseau done by Halston, knew the designs well. Her eyes clouded. She’d had such high hopes for Adam and herself. It had been a devastating blow, to find that he hadn’t wanted her—physically or any other way.

  She dressed angrily, hating Adam, hating herself for being so blind. And now she was beginning to daydream about that horrible Cameron. Well, she’d just have to stop it. This was a job that would soon be over. Nothing more.

  She tugged on her gown and its matching shoes and fixed her hair in a high, elegant coiffure. She used more makeup than usual, emphasizing her thick, long lashes, her full mouth and her high cheekbones. She fastened her mother’s pearls around her throat, put on the matching earrings and stared at herself in the mirror. Well, Miss Radner, she thought wickedly, top that.

  “Wow,” came a soft little voice from the doorway.

  She turned to Amanda, smiling at the awe on the young girl’s face. Merlyn knew she looked good in the designer gown. It was a long sheath of dark green velvet with a strapless bodice composed of pleated satin only a shade lighter than the velvet. It was an altogether bewitching dress, and the pearls set it off beautifully.

  “Are you really Merlyn?” Amanda asked. “You sure do look different.”

  Merlyn went forward to kiss the girl warmly. “You make me feel like a fairy princess. I just hope my pumpkin doesn’t vanish.”

  “Not before midnight, anyway.” Amanda giggled. “Good night. Have fun.”

  “I hope to. Sleep well, darling.”

  She left Amanda at her own room and continued down the stairs. The band had just started playing, and the tune was one Dick had chosen deliberately. It dated back to their high school days, a lazy tune that was pure seduction.

  She paused in the doorway to the living room. Cameron spotted her instantly and stopped dead in the middle of the dance floor with Delle in his arms.

  Merlyn nodded at them and continued to the buffet table where Lila was busily filling a plate.

  “Darling!” she said as Merlyn came up beside her. “That gown! Tracy Mills, isn’t it?”

  Merlyn laughed softly. “Yes. Sharp eyes.”

  “Even if they are old,” Lila murmured. “What a knockout you are. And so poised. Merlyn, you’re deceiving us or I’m a has-been.”

  “Deceiving you?” She was breathless.

  “You’re not what you appear to be,” the older woman clarified. Her sharp eyes narrowed.

  “The gown is borrowed,” Merlyn whispered, pretending for all she was worth. “I have a friend with clout, if you know what I mean.”

  Lila glanced sideways toward the band.

  “Exactly.” Merlyn grinned. “He has a sister just my size,” she confided. Well, it was sort of the truth. Except that Dick’s sister was still in high school and wore a size 18 dress.

  “Oh,” Lila said and smiled. “Well, you look lovely.”

  Cameron and Delle joined them. “My, my, what a pretty dress,” Delle said, staring at it.

  “Thank you,” Merlyn said graciously.

  “And the pearls—they look so real! Isn’t it amazing what they can do with costume jewelry these days,” Delle continued, not even meaning to be malicious.

  Merlyn lifted an eyebrow and smiled. “Yes, isn’t it?” she replied, looking pointedly at D
elle’s gaudy sapphire necklace. “Paste?”

  Delle flushed wildly. “Well…I mean, you do realize that the original is quite too expensive to wear in public!”

  “Oh, I’m sure it is,” Merlyn said with a cool smile. “By the way, dear, these pearls are quite real. They’ve been in my family for three generations, and if you’ll take a close look, you’ll see that they’re perfectly matched.”

  Delle looked flustered. Merlyn was amazed at her own temerity. Usually she just let snobs be snobs, but the girl had hit a nerve. There was no real reason for her to dislike Delle, but she did. She disliked her almost as much as she felt sorry for her.

  “Would you like to dance, Miss Forrest?” Cameron asked with a cold smile. He took her hand before she could protest and nodded at a stunned Delle as he pulled Merlyn onto the dance floor.

  “You’re pushing your luck,” he said bluntly, glaring down at her. “Stop chewing on Delle, or I’ll try my teeth on you.”

  “How protective, Mr. Thorpe,” she drawled sweetly. “Lucky Delle.”

  “Those pearls are real, aren’t they?” he asked, staring at them. “Were they really your grandmother’s?”

  “Yes, they were. The one good piece of jewelry I possess, and I dislike having them laughed at by little girls with no manners,” she said curtly.

  His eyebrow went up. “Such hauteur for a working girl,” he murmured.

  “Even working girls have pride, Mr. Thorpe,” she returned, her eyes glittering at him.

  He pulled her closer, bringing her breasts against the front of his dark jacket. He glanced down, peeking past the satin to the warm, white slopes of her breasts. “What an enchanting gown,” he murmured. “Just made to tempt a man’s eyes. Is that why you chose it?”

  She hadn’t honestly contemplated this complication. She tried to draw back, but he wouldn’t let her.

  “Stay where you are,” he said quietly. “You look good enough to eat.”

  “Thank you,” she muttered, glaring up at him.

  His hand spread out against her bare back, and she felt fire where his hard fingers touched and probed. “Silk,” he murmured. “Silk and satin and velvet. A dangerous combination.”

  “Delle is staring at us. And I’m very hungry,” she returned.

  “Let Delle stare. You ate lunch.”

  “I’m hungry again.”

  “A woman of large appetite,” he said, searching her eyes. “I have a large one of my own, Merlyn.”

  Her face flamed and her eyes flashed. She stopped dancing. “If you’re going to make crude innuendoes…”

  “I’ll reform, if I must,” he murmured dryly, drawing her back into the slow rhythm.

  “Poor little thing,” she said, glancing past him to Delle, who looked very young and lost and frightened.

  “Who, Delle?” He laughed. “Here comes Mama. She won’t be lost for long.”

  Merlyn noticed the older woman entering the room. Mrs. Radner’s sharp blue eyes picked out Cameron, widened when she saw Merlyn, and glittered when they found Delle all alone. She lifted her head like a spirited thoroughbred and made her way to the buffet table.

  “She reminds me vaguely of a race horse,” Merlyn said absently. “One with its ears back.”

  He chuckled deeply and pulled her hard against him as he executed a graceful turn. “You remind me of a nervous filly,” he said, bending so that his breath brushed her ear. “Your body feels like a board. Why don’t you relax?”

  “It would be suicide,” she said without thinking.

  “Would it?”

  Chapter Five

  The tone of his voice was like velvet, and it made her feel liquid in his big arms. His hand pressed harder against her back. “Would it, Merlyn?” he repeated softly.

  “Yes,” she whispered, peeking up at him through her dark lashes.

  She’d expected the coquetry to make him smile, but he didn’t. If anything he looked more formidable than the night they’d met. He held her tight as he whirled her around, and she couldn’t seem to break the hypnotism of his gaze.

  “You smell of gardenias,” he said quietly, “and I could get drunk on the feel of your skin. Your name suits you. Merlyn. Magic.”

  She felt hot all over. With an effort, she looked away from him. Things were getting out of hand. “Could we stop?” she asked in a high-pitched little voice. “Delle must want to dance with you, she’s glaring at us.”

  “Delle can wait,” he murmured.

  The waltz ended abruptly, but he didn’t let go, and the band immediately began a lazy, bluesy tune that invited closer contact.

  “Please, I don’t want to,” she said softly.

  He only shook his head, folding her back into his arms. He moved lightly, gracefully, amid the throng, while Delle and her mother looked daggers at them. There was going to be trouble there, Merlyn thought with resignation.

  “Stop worrying,” he said, bending closer. “We’re only dancing.”

  But it didn’t feel like only dancing, and his big, warm hand on her bare back was doing the most fascinating things to her pulse rate. She was leaning against his broad chest with no idea of how she got there, and he was holding her close enough that her thighs brushed his when they moved.

  Merlyn wasn’t a child. She’d been engaged, and although she hadn’t experienced it herself, she knew how potent a man’s lovemaking could be. But what Cameron Thorpe was doing to her had never happened before, certainly not with Adam. He was making her tremble with every touch of his body. She could feel its warmth all the way up and down her own. She could smell the clean, spicy scent of his skin and sense the growing hunger in him.

  It shouldn’t be like this, she told herself. I shouldn’t be reacting to him this way. But even as she began the silent lecture, his hand dropped down to her waist and pressed her closer, and she trembled even more.

  He stiffened as he felt it. His hand froze and then pressed urgently. His dark head bent so that his breath was at her ear as the couples dancing around them nudged them even closer.

  “You’re potent, Jane Eyre,” he growled in her ear. “Can you feel what you’re doing to me?”

  She could and it was embarrassing. She shifted quickly, smoothly, and wouldn’t look at him. “Delle is watching,” she threatened, although she couldn’t see the woman. There was pure panic in her voice, and he recognized it.

  “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” he whispered deeply, his voice as dark as his hair, as sensuous as his muscular body close to hers. “Don’t start looking for exits.”

  His fingers moved slowly along her spine, exciting, enticing, and she reached around her to try to stop them. It was just the opening he wanted. He caught her wrist and, using it as a lever, arched her body into the contours of his.

  Her eyes met his searching gaze, and the people around them vanished. The world narrowed to his dark, broad face and the intense hunger she read in his eyes.

  “Your heart is beating like a wild thing,” he whispered huskily. His chest rose and fell heavily.

  “Let me go, Cameron,” she whispered back, shaking.

  “You make my name sound like a moan,” he breathed, turning suddenly so that she was intimately pressed to him for an instant. “I could make you moan, Merlyn. I know all the tricks, all the ways.”

  That was what she was afraid of. She wanted to pull free and run, but he was like a narcotic. Her eyes melted into his, and she wanted nothing more at that moment than a room where they could be alone. She wanted to know the possession of that hard, chiseled mouth.

  His nostrils flared as he caught her gazing at his lips, and he seemed to take the thought out of her mind. “I want that, too,” he said in a rough whisper. “Your mouth and mine, tasting, hurting…God, let’s get out of here!”

  He stopped dancing with a hard jerk, oblivious to the other couples, and pushed her ahead of him in the general direction of the punch bowl. She felt alive as she never had before in her life. Her mind tried to stop her
, but her body wanted him. She went where he guided her, past the punch bowl, through the milling guests and into the hall toward the study. But there were people there, too. He held her hand tightly in his, his eyes flashing wildly, his body looking as taut as her own felt. Finally, his eyes turned to the big hall closet and he tugged her hand.

  He opened the door while the hall was temporarily clear and put her inside, turning on the light as he closed the door firmly behind them.

  “Now,” he murmured gruffly, reaching for her. He pulled her against him, unfastening his jacket and vest with an impatient hand before he pushed her arms under them, and around his broad chest. “Now, Merlyn,” he whispered. “I’ve gone hungry for you long enough.”

  Her lips parted even as his mouth touched them. It was just as she’d imagined it would be. He tasted of brandy and smoke, and his mouth was every bit as hard as it looked. It did wildly sensuous things to hers, teasing and lifting, teasing and brushing, until she ached for completion. His hands smoothed over the bareness of her back above the dress, his fingers caressing.

  “Harder,” she whispered huskily, her voice faintly pleading.

  His breath drew in sharply. “How hard?” he breathed back, biting her mouth. “Like that?”

  “No,” she moaned, stretching on her tiptoes. “No, like this…!”

  Her mouth opened, coaxing his, inciting it, and her tongue traced the broad, hard line of his lips in ways she’d never liked with other men. But with him it was sweeter than wine, hotter than fire. Her kiss dragged a moan from his throat, and caused his hands to move low on her hips and grind them into his.

  “Oh!” she burst out.

  He lifted his head to look down at her. His eyes were blazing, and his jaw was taut and rigid. The eyes he looked into were softer than the velvet of her dress, half-closed, lazy with ardor. “Enough?” he asked mockingly.

  She made a soft little movement with her head, and her hands slid around him, to his chest, to the buttons of his shirt. Her eyes opened as they searched his.

  “Go ahead,” he said quietly. “Just don’t excite me too much. The closet isn’t the place for what we’re building up to.”