Unlikely Lover Page 7

  “Don’t hurt me,” she whispered shakily, her eyes pleading with him. “I’m not experienced enough, I’m not…old enough…to play adult games with men.”

  That stopped him, softened him. The harsh light went out of his eyes, and he searched her delicate features with growing protectiveness.

  “I’ll never hurt you,” he whispered and meant it. He kissed her eyes closed. “Not that way or in bed. Oh, God, Mari, you make me ache like a teenager!”

  Her nails bit into his arms as he started to lean toward her again, and just as his lips touched hers in the prelude to what would have become a violently passionate exchange, they heard the soft, heavy thud of Lillian’s cast as she headed toward them.

  “Cupid approaches,” he muttered, a subtle tremor in the hands that gently put her away from him. “She’d die if she knew what she just interrupted.”

  Mari stared at him, a little frightened by her lack of resistance, by the blatant hunger that she’d felt.

  “Passion shouldn’t be frightening to you,” he said gently as the thuds grew closer. “It’s as natural as breathing.”

  She shifted, watching him lift his bag without moving his eyes from her. “It’s very new,” she whispered.

  “Then it’s new for both of us,” he said just before Lillian opened the door. “Because I’ve never felt this with another woman. And if that shocks you, it should. It damned well shocks me. I thought I’d done it all.”

  “Welcome home, boss.” Lillian beamed, holding the door back. “You look good. Doesn’t he, Mari?” Flushed face on the girl, and the boss looked a little flustered. Good. Good. Things were progressing. Absence worked after all.

  “I feel pretty good, too,” he returned, putting an affectionate arm around Lillian. “Been behaving?”

  “Yes, sir. Pills and all.” Lillian glared at her niece. “It’s pretty hard not to take pills when you’re threatened with being rolled in a towel.”

  He laughed warmly, glancing over at Mari. “Good girl.”

  “I should get medals for this,” Mari returned, her eyes searching his, searching his face, quiet and curious and puzzled.

  He hugged Lillian. “No doubt. What’s for dinner? I’m starved.”

  “Finally,” Lillian said with a grin. “Things are back to normal. You should see all the food I’ve saved up.”

  “Don’t just stand there, both of you, go fetch it,” he said, looking starved. “I’ll die if I don’t eat soon!”

  Lillian responded to his order, producing an abundance of hearty food. While Ward dug in, Mari watched him with pure admiration. She’d never seen a human being put it away with such pleasure. He didn’t seem to gain an ounce, for all his appetite. But then he was on the run most of his life, which probably explained his trim but masculine build.

  He finished the last of the dressing and sat back with a heavy sigh to sip his second cup of coffee while Lillian, despite offers of help and threats, pushed a trolley of dirty dishes out to the kitchen and dishwasher.

  “She won’t slow down,” Mari said. “I’ve tried, but she won’t let me take over. I called the doctor, but he said as long as she was taking her medicine and didn’t overdo standing on that cast, she’d be okay. I do at least get her to sit down, and I help when she lets me.”

  “Good thing her room’s on the ground floor,” he remarked.

  “Yes.”

  He studied her over the rim of his coffee cup, his eyes narrow and quiet and full of green flames. There was no amusement in them now, no mockery. Just frank, blatant desire.

  She looked back because it was beyond her powers of resistance not to. He held her in thrall, his darkening eyes full of promised pleasure, exquisite physical delight. Her body recognized that look, even if her brain didn’t, and began to respond in frightening ways.

  “I should bring in the dessert,” she said as she rose, panicked.

  “I don’t want dessert,” he said deeply.

  She thought she knew what he did want, and she almost said so, but she dropped back down into her chair and put more sugar in her already oversweet coffee.

  “Keep that up, and you can take rust off with it.” He nodded toward her efforts with the sugar bowl.

  She flushed. “I like it sweet.”

  “Do you?” He reached over and stilled her hand, his fingers lightly caressing it. While he held her eyes, he took the spoon away from her and linked his fingers slowly with hers in a light, caressing pressure that made her want to scream with frustrated hunger.

  She couldn’t help it. Her fingers contracted, too, convulsively, and she looked at him with aching desire.

  His face went hard. “Suppose we go over those phone messages?” he asked.

  “All right.”

  They both knew it was only an excuse, a reason to be alone together in the den to make love. Because that was surely what was going to happen. Being apart and then experiencing this explosive togetherness had taken its toll on them. He stood up and drew her along with him, and she could feel the throbbing silence that grew as they walked down the hall.

  “Don’t you want dessert?” Lillian called after them but not very heartily. She was grinning too much.

  “Not right now,” Ward replied. He looked down at Mari as he opened the door to the den, and there were blazing fires in his steady, possessive eyes.

  Mari felt her lips part as she looked up at him. She started past him, feeling the warmth of his big body, the strength and power of it, and smelling his spicy cologne. She could hardly wait to be alone with him.

  Just as he started to follow her into the room, into the secret silence of it, the heady atmosphere was shattered by a loud knock at the front door.

  He cursed under his breath, whirling with such unexpected violence that Mari felt sorry for whoever was out there.

  He opened the door and glared out. “Well?” he demanded.

  “Well, you invited me, didn’t you?” came an equally curt reply in a voice as deep and authoritative as Ward’s. “You called me from the airport and said come over and we’d work out that second lease. So here I am. Or did you forget?”

  “No.”

  “Do you want to serve my coffee on the damned porch?”

  Ward tried not to grin, but he couldn’t help it. Honest to God, Ty Wade was just like him.

  “Oh, hell, come in,” he muttered, holding the door open.

  A tall, whipcord-lean man entered the house, Stetson in hand. He was as homely as leftover bacon, and he had eyes so piercing and coldly gray that Mari almost backed away. And then he saw her and smiled, and his face changed.

  “Marianne, this is my neighbor, Tyson Wade,” Ward told her curtly.

  Ty nodded without speaking, glancing past Mari to where Lillian was standing in her cast. “What did you do, kick him?” he asked Lillian, nodding toward Ward.

  Lillian laughed. “Not quite. How are Erin and the twins?”

  “Just beautiful, thanks,” Ty said with a quiet smile.

  “Give them my best,” Lillian said. “Coffee?”

  “Just make it, I’ll come and get the tray,” Ward said firmly.

  Lillian grumbled off toward the kitchen while Mari searched for words.

  “I think I’ll turn in,” she said to Ward. “If you still want me to help with the office work, I need to get some sleep so that I can start early.”

  Ward looked harder than usual. Mari couldn’t know that seeing Ty and the change marriage had made in him had knocked every amorous thought right out of his head. Ty spelled commitment, and Ward wanted none of it. So why in hell, he was asking himself, had he been coming on to a virgin?

  “Sure,” he told Mari. “You do that. If you don’t mind, try to get your aunt into bed, too, could you? She’s going to make a basket case of me if she doesn’t start resting. Tell her that, too. Play on her conscience, girl.”

  Mari forced a smile. “I’ll try. Nice to meet you, Mr. Wade,” she told Ty and went after Lillian.

  “
Imagine, Tyson Wade in this very house,” Lillian said with a sigh as she fixed a tray. “It’s been a shock, seeing those two actually talk. They’ve been feuding as long as I’ve worked here. Then Mr. Wade got married and just look at him.”

  “He seems very much a family man,” Mari commented.

  “You should have seen him before.” Lillian grinned. “He made the boss look like a pussycat.”

  “That bad?”

  “That bad. Bad enough, in fact, to make the boss get rid of a half-wolf, half-shepherd dog he loved to death. It brought down some of Ty’s cattle, and he came over here to ‘discuss it’ with the boss.” She turned, grinning at her niece. “The very next day that dog was adopted into a good home. And the boss had to see his dentist. Tyson Wade was a mean man before Miss Erin came along. Ah, the wonder of true love.” She gave Mari a sizing-up look and grinned even more when the younger woman blushed. “Well, let’s get to the dishes, if you’re determined to get in my way.”

  Mari was and she did, quickly shooing Lillian out. Then she disappeared herself before Ward came for the coffee tray. She’d had enough for one night.

  * * *

  Breakfast was an ordeal, Ward was cold all of a sudden, not the amorous, very interested man of the day before. Mari felt cold and empty and wondered what she’d done to make him look at her with those indifferent eyes. She was beginning to be glad that her vacation was almost over.

  He followed her into the office and started opening mail. It had piled up in his absence, and he frowned over the amount waiting for him.

  “Can you take dictation?” he asked Mari without looking up.

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. Get a pad and pen out of the desk drawer and let’s get started.”

  He began to dictate. The first letter was in response to a man who owed Ward money. The man had written Ward to explain that he’d had a bad month and would catch up on his payments as soon as he could. Instead of an understanding reply, Ward dictated a scorching demand for full payment that ended in a threatened lawsuit.

  Mari started to speak, but the look he gave her was an ultimatum. She forced back the words and kept her silence.

  Each letter was terse, precise and without the least bit of compassion. She began to get a picture of him that was disappointing and disillusioning. If there was any warmth in him, she couldn’t find it in business. Perhaps that was why he was so wealthy. He put his own success above the problems of his creditors. So he had money. And apparently not much conscience. But Mari had one, and the side of him that she was seeing disturbed her greatly.

  Finally Ward was finished dictating the letters, but just as she started to type them, the phone rang. Ward answered it, his face growing darker with every instant.

  It was a competitor on the phone, accusing him of using underhanded methods to get the best of a business deal. He responded with language that should have caused the telephone company to remove his phone and burn it. Mari was the color of a boiled lobster when he finished and hung up.

  “Something bothering you, honey?” he chided.

  “You’re ruthless,” she said quietly.

  “Hell, yes, I am,” he returned without embarrassment. “I grew up the butt of every cruel tongue in town. I was that Jessup boy, the one whose mother was the easiest woman around and ran off with Mrs. Hurdy’s husband. I was that poor kid down the road that never had a decent family except for his battle-ax of a grandmother.” His green eyes glowed, and she wondered if he’d ever said these things to anyone else. “Success is a great equalizer, didn’t you know? The same people who used to look down their noses at me now take off their hats and nod these days. I’m on everybody’s guest list. I get recognized by local civic groups. I’m always being mentioned in the newspapers. Oh, I’m a big man these days, sprout.” His face hardened. “But I wasn’t always. Not until I had money. And how I get it doesn’t bother me. Why should I be a good old boy in business? Nobody else is.”

  “Isn’t Mr. Wade?” she fished.

  “Mr. Wade,” he informed her, “is now a family man, and he’s missing his guts. His wife removed them, along with his manhood and his pride.”

  She stood. “What a terrible thing to say,” she burst out. “How can you be so coldhearted? Don’t you realize what you’re doing to yourself? You’re shriveling up into an old Scrooge, and you don’t seem to realize it.”

  “I give to charity,” he said arrogantly.

  “For appearances and to get ahead,” she replied hotly. “Not because you care. You don’t, do you? You don’t really care about one living soul.”

  His chin lifted and his eyes sparkled dangerously. “I care about my grandmother and my sister. And maybe Lillian.”

  “And nobody else,” she said, hurt a bit by his admission that he didn’t feel a thing for her.

  “That’s right,” he said coldly. “Nobody else.”

  She stood there with her hands clenched at her sides, hurting in ways that she’d never expected she could. “You’re a real prince, aren’t you?” she asked.

  “I’m a rich one, too,” he returned, smiling slowly. “But if you had any ideas about taking advantage of that fact, you can forget them. I like my money’s worth. And I’m not suited to wedding cake and rice.”

  When what he had said finally broke through the fog and she realized what he was accusing her of, she had to bite her tongue to keep from crying. So that was what he thought—that she was nothing but a gold digger, out to set herself up for life on his fortune.

  “I know,” she said with an icy look. “And that’s good because most women who are looking for a husband want one who doesn’t have to be plugged into a wall socket to warm up!”

  “Get out of my office,” he said shortly. “Since you’re here to visit your aunt, go do it and keep the hell out of my way! When I want a sermon, I’ll get it in church!”

  “Any minister who got you into church would be canonized!” she told him bluntly and ran out of the room.

  She didn’t tell Lillian what had happened. Shortly thereafter Ward stormed out, slamming the door behind him. He didn’t come back until well after bedtime. Mari hadn’t gone back into the den, and by the time she crawled into bed, she was already planning how to tell Aunt Lillian that she’d have to return to Georgia.

  It wouldn’t be easy to leave. But now that she’d had a glimpse of the real man, the character under the veneer, she was sure that she was doing the right thing. Ward Jessup might be a rich man with a fat wallet. But he was ice-cold. If she had any sanity left, she’d get away from him before her addiction got so bad that she’d find excuses to stay just to look at him.

  That remark about not caring for anyone except family had hurt terribly. She did understand why he was the way he was, but it didn’t help her broken heart. She’d been learning to love him. And now she found that he had nothing at all to give. Not even warmth. It was the worst blow of all. Yes, she’d have to go home now. Aunt Lillian was coping beautifully, taking her medicine and even resting properly. At least Ward would take care of the older woman. He cared about her. He’d never care about Mari, and it was high time she faced facts.

  Chapter Seven

  Mari had a miserable day. She kept out of Ward’s way, and she didn’t go back into the den. Let him get a temporary secretary, she thought furiously, if he couldn’t manage his dirty work alone. She wasn’t going to do it for him.

  “Talk about unarmed conflict,” Lillian muttered as Mari went out the back door in a lightweight jacket and jeans.

  “He started it,” Mari said irritably. “Or didn’t you know how he did business?”

  Lillian’s expression said that she did. “He’s a hard man to understand sometimes,” she said, her voice gentle, coaxing. “But you can’t imagine the life he’s had, Mari. People aren’t cold without reason. Very often it’s just a disguise.”

  “His is flawless.”

  “So is yours,” Lillian said with a warm smile. “Almost. But don’t gi
ve up on him yet. He might surprise you.”

  “He won’t have time. Have you forgotten that I have to go home in two more days?”

  The older woman looked worried. “Yes, I know. I had hoped you might stay a little longer.”

  “You’re feeling better,” she returned. “And he doesn’t want me here. Not anymore. I’m not even sure I’d stay if I was asked.” She opened the door. “I’m going to look at the horses.”

  She walked out without another word, crestfallen and miserable. She stuck her hands in the pockets of her jacket and walked aimlessly along the fence until she came in sight of the barn.

  There he was, sitting astride a huge chestnut-colored horse, his working clothes making him look even bigger than usual, his Stetson cocked over one eye. Watching her.

  She stopped in her tracks, glaring at him. He urged the horse into a slow trot and reined in beside her, resting his crossed hands on the pommel. The leather creaked as he shifted in the saddle and pushed back his hat.

  “Are we still speaking?” he asked, his tone half amused.

  “Can someone run me to the bus station in the morning?” she asked, ignoring the question. “My vacation is up the day after tomorrow. I have to get back to Atlanta.”

  He stared at her for a long moment before he spoke. “How are you going to explain that decision to Lillian?” he asked, carefully choosing his words. “You’re supposed to think I’m dying, aren’t you? You’re supposed to be helping me write my memoirs.”

  “I don’t think my stomach is strong enough,” she replied.

  His green eyes glittered at her. “Stop that. I’m trying to make friends with you.”

  “I tried to make friends with a gerbil once,” she commented. “I stuck my hand down into its cage to let it have a nice sniff, and it tried to eat my little finger.”

  “You’re making this difficult,” he grumbled, tilting his hat back over his eyes.

  “No, you are,” she corrected. “I’m doing my best to relieve you of my gold-digging, sermonizing presence.”