Читать книгу Unlikely Lover - Diana Palmer - Страница 8

Chapter Three

“I didn’t mean to knock you into the pool,” Mari told Ward the minute he entered the dining room.

He stopped in the doorway and stared at her from his great height. His hair was dry now, thick and straight against his broad forehead, and his wet clothes had been exchanged for dry jeans and a blue plaid shirt. His green eyes were a little less hostile than they had been minutes before.

“It isn’t a pool,” he informed her. “It’s an indoor stream. And next time, Miss Raymond, I’d appreciate it if you’d watch where the hell you’re going.”

“Yes, sir,” she said quickly.

“I told you not to let him put that stream in the living room,” Lillian gloated.

He glared at her. “Keep talking and I’ll give you an impromptu swimming lesson.”

“Yes, boss.” She turned on her heel and went back into the kitchen to fetch the rest of the food.

“I really am sorry,” Mari murmured.

“So am I,” he said unexpectedly, and his green eyes searched hers quietly. “I hope I didn’t frighten you.”

She glanced down at her shoes, nervous of the sensations that his level gaze prompted. “It’s hard to be afraid of a man with a lily pad on his head.”

“Stop that,” he grumbled, jerking out a chair.

“You might consider putting up guardrails,” she suggested dryly as she sat down across from him, her blue eyes twinkling with the first humor she’d felt in days.

“You’d better keep a life jacket handy,” he returned.

She stuck her tongue out at him impulsively and watched his thick eyebrows arch.

He shook out his napkin with unnecessary force and laid it across his powerful thighs. “My God, you’re living dangerously,” he told her.

“I’m not afraid of you,” she said smartly and meant it.

“That isn’t what your Aunt Lillian says,” he observed with narrowed eyes.

She stared at him blankly. “I beg your pardon?”

“She says you’re afraid of men,” he continued. He scowled at her puzzled expression. “Because of what happened to you and your friend,” he prompted.

She blinked, wondering what her aunt had told him about that. After all, having your purse pinched by an overweight juvenile delinquent wasn’t really enough to terrify most women. Especially when she and Beth had run the offender down, beaten the stuffing out of him, recovered the purse and sat on him until the police got there.

“You know, dear,” Lillian blustered as she came through the door, shaking her head and smiling all at once. She looked as red as a beet, too. “The horrible experience you had!”

“Horrible?” Mari asked.

“Horrible!” Lillian cried. “We can’t talk about it now!”

“We can’t?” Mari parroted blankly.

“Not at the table. Not in front of the boss!” She jerked her head curtly toward him two or three times.

“Have you got a crick in your neck, Aunt Lillian?” her niece asked with some concern.

“No, dear, why do you ask? Here! Have some fried chicken and some mashed potatoes!” She shoved dishes toward her niece and began a monologue that only ended when it was time for dessert.

“I think something’s wrong with Aunt Lillian,” Mari confided to Ward the moment Lillian started back into the kitchen for the coffeepot.

“Yes, so do I,” he replied. “She’s been acting strangely for the past few days. Don’t let on you know. We’ll talk later.”

She nodded, concerned. Lillian was back seconds later, almost as if she was afraid to leave them alone together. How strange.

“Well, I think I’ll go up to bed,” Mari said after she finished her coffee, glancing quickly at Aunt Lillian. “I’m very tired.”

“Good idea,” Ward said. “You get some rest.”

“Yes,” Lillian agreed warmly. “Good night, dear.”

She bent to kiss her aunt. “See you in the morning, Aunt Lillian,” she murmured and glanced at Ward. “Good night, Mr. Jessup.”

“Good night, Miss Raymond,” he said politely.

Mari went quietly upstairs and into her bedroom. She sat by the window and looked down at the empty swimming pool with its wooden privacy fence and the gently rolling, brush-laden landscape, where cattle moved lazily and a green haze heralded spring. Minutes later there was a stealthy knock at the door, and Ward Jessup came into the room, scowling.

“Want me to leave the door open?” he asked hesitantly.

She stared at him blankly. “Why? Are you afraid I might attack you?”

He stared back. “Well, after the experience you had, I thought…”

“What experience?” she asked politely.

“The man at the shopping center,” he said, his green eyes level and frankly puzzled as he closed the door behind him.

“Are you afraid of me because of that?” she burst out. “I do realize you may be a little weak, Mr. Jessup, but I promise I won’t hurt you!”

He gaped at her. “What?”

“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” she assured him. “I’m not really as bad as Aunt Lillian made me sound, I’m sure. And it’s only a red belt, after all, not a black one. I only sat on him until the police came. I hardly even bruised him—”

“Whoa,” he said curtly. He cocked his dark head and peered at her. “You sat on him?”

“Sure,” she agreed, pushing her hair out of her eyes. “Didn’t she tell you that Beth and I ran the little weasel down to get my purse back and beat the stuffing out of him? Overweight little juvenile delinquent, he was lucky I didn’t skin him alive.”

“You weren’t attacked?” he persisted.

“Well, sort of.” She shrugged. “He stole my purse. He couldn’t have known I was a karate student.”

“Oh, my God,” he burst out. His eyes narrowed, his jaw tautened. “That lying old turkey!”

“How dare you call my aunt a turkey!” she returned hotly. “After all she’s doing for you?”

“What, exactly, is she doing for me?”

“Well, bringing me here, to help you write your memoirs before…the end,” she faltered. “She told me all about your incurable illness—”

“Incurable illness?” he bellowed.

“You’re dying,” she told him.

“Like hell I am,” he said fiercely.

“You don’t have to act brave and deny it,” she replied hesitantly. “She told me that you wanted young people around to cheer you up. And somebody to help you write your memoirs. I’m going to be a novelist one day,” she added. “I want to be a writer.”

“Good. You can practice with your aunt’s obituary,” he muttered, glaring toward the door.

“You can’t do that to a helpless old lady,” she began.

“Watch me.” He was heading for the door, his very stride frightening.

“Oh, no! You can’t!” She ran after him, got in front of him and plastered herself against the door. “You’ll have to go through me.”

“Suits me, Joan of Arc,” he grumbled, catching her by the waist. He lifted her clear off the floor until she was unnervingly at eye level with him. “You sweet little angel of mercy, you.”

“Put me down or I’ll…I’ll put you down,” she threatened.

He stared amusedly into her blue eyes under impossibly thick lashes. “Will you? Go ahead. Show me how you earned that red belt.”

She tried. She used every trick her instructor had taught her, and all it accomplished was to leave her dangling from his powerful hands, panting into his mocking smile.

“Had enough?” she huffed.

“Not at all. Aren’t you finished yet?” he asked politely.

She aimed one more kick, which he blocked effortlessly. She sagged in his powerful hold. Lord, he was strong! “Okay,” she said, sighing wearily. “Now I’m finished.”

“Next time,” he told her as he put her back on her feet, leaving his hands tightly around her waist, “make sure your intended victim didn’t take the same course of study. My belt is black. Tenth degree.”

“Damn you!” she cursed sharply.

“And we’ll have no more of that in this house,” he said shortly, emphasizing the angry remark with a reproachful slap to her bottom, nodding as she gasped in outrage. “You’ve been working in that garage for too long already, if that’s any example of what you’re being taught.”

“I’m not a child!” she retorted. “I’m an adult!”

“No, you aren’t,” he replied, jerking her against him with a mocking smile. “But maybe I can help you grow up a little.”

He bent his head and found her lips with a single smooth motion, pressing her neck back against his muscular shoulder with the fierce possessiveness of his hard mouth.

Mari thought that in all her life nothing so unexpected had ever happened to her. His lips were warm and hard and insistent, forcing hers open so that he could put the tip of his tongue just under them, his breath tasting of coffee and mint, the strength of his big body overwhelming her with its hard warmth.

For an instant she tried to struggle, only to find herself enveloped in his arms, wrapped up against him so tightly that she could hardly breathe. And everywhere her face turned, his was there, his mouth provocative, sensuous, biting at hers, doing the most intimate things to it.

Her legs felt funny. They began to tremble as they came into sudden and shocking contact with his. Her heart raced. Her body began to ache with heat and odd longings. Her breath caught somewhere in her chest, and her breasts felt swollen. Because these new sensations frightened her, she tried to struggle. But he only held her tighter, not brutally but firmly, and went on kissing her.

His fingers were in her hair, tugging gently, strong and warm at her nape as they turned her face where he wanted it. His mouth pressed roughly against hers and opened softly, teaching hers. Eventually the drugging sweetness of it took the fight out of her. With a tiny sigh she began to relax.

“Open your mouth, Mari,” he murmured in a deep, rough whisper, punctuating the command with a sensual brushing of his open lips against hers.

She obeyed him without hearing him, her body with a new heat, her hands searching over his arms to find hard muscle and warm strength through the fabric. She wanted to touch his skin, to experience every hard line of him. She wanted to open his shirt and touch his chest and see if the wiry softness she could feel through it was thick hair….

Her abandon shocked her back to reality. Her eyes opened and she tugged at his arms, only vaguely aware of the sudden, fierce hunger in his mouth just before he felt her resistance. He lifted his head, taking quick, short breaths, and by the time her eyes opened, he was back in control.

He was watching her, half amused, half mocking. He lifted his mouth, breathing through his nose, and let her move away.

“You little virgin,” he accused in a tone that she didn’t recognize. “You don’t even know how to make love.”

Her swollen lips could barely form words. She had to swallow and try twice to make herself heard. “That wasn’t fair,” she said finally.

“Why not?” he asked. “You tried to kick me, didn’t you?”

“That isn’t the way…a gentleman gets even,” she said, still panting.

“I’m no gentleman,” he assured her, smiling even with those cold green eyes. The smile grew colder as he realized how close he’d come to letting her knock him off balance physically. She was dangerous. Part of him wanted her off the property. But another part was hungry for more of that innocently ardent response he’d won from her. His own emotions confused him. “Haven’t you realized yet why you’re here, Georgia peach?” he asked mockingly. And when she shook her head, he continued, half amused. “Aunt Lillian is matchmaking. She wants you to marry me.”

Mari’s pupils dilated. “Marry you!”

His back stiffened. She didn’t have to make it sound like the rack, did she? He glared down at her. “Well, plenty have wanted to, let me tell you,” he muttered.

“Masochists,” she shot back, humiliated by her aunt, his attitude and that unexpectedly ardent attack just minutes before. “Anyway,” she said salvaging her pride, “Aunt Lillian would never—”

“She did.” He studied her with a cold smile. “But I’m too old for you and too jaded. And I don’t want to risk my heart again. So go home. Fast.”

“It can’t be fast enough to suit me. Honest,” she told him huskily as she tried to catch her breath. “I don’t want to wake up shackled to a man like you.”

“How flattering of you.”

“I want a partner, not a possessor,” she said shakily. “I thought I knew something about men until just now. I don’t know anything at all. And I’ll be delighted to go back home and join a convent!”

“Was it that bad?” he taunted.

“You scare me, big man,” she said and meant it. She backed away from him. “I’ll stick to my own age group from now on, thanks. I’ll bet you’ve forgotten more about making love than I’ll ever learn.”

He smiled slowly, surprised by her frankness. “I probably have. But you’re pretty sweet all the same.”

“Years too young for a renegade like you.”

“I could be tempted,” he murmured thoughtfully.

“I couldn’t. You’d seduce me and leave me pregnant, and Aunt Lillian would quit, and I’d have to go away and invent a husband I didn’t have, and our child would grow up never knowing his father…” she burst out.

His eyes widened. He actually chuckled. “My God, what an imagination.”

“I told you I wanted to be a writer,” she reminded him. “And now, since you’re not dying, would you mind leaving me to pack? I think I can be out of here in ten minutes.”

“She’ll be heartbroken,” he said unexpectedly.

“That’s not my problem.”

“She’s your aunt. Of course it’s your problem,” he returned. “You can’t possibly leave now. She’d—”

“Oh!”

The cry came from downstairs. They looked at each other and both dived for the door, opening it just in time to find Lillian on her back on the bottom step, groaning, one leg in an unnatural position.

Mari rushed down the stairs just behind Ward. “Oh, Aunt Lillian!” she wailed, staring at the strained old face with its pasty complexion. “How could you do this to me?”

“To you?” Lillian bit off, groaning again. “Child, it’s my leg!”

“I was going to leave—” Mari began.

“Leave the dishes for you, no doubt.” Ward jumped in with a warning glance in Mari’s direction. “Isn’t that right, Miss Raymond?” Fate was working for him as usual, he mused. Now he’d have a little time to find out just why this woman disturbed him so much. And to get her well out of his system, one way or another, before she left. He had to prove to himself that Mari wasn’t capable of doing to him what Caroline had done. It was a matter of male pride.

Mari swallowed, wondering whether to go along with Ward. He did look pretty threatening. And huge. “Uh, that’s right. The dishes. But I can do them!” she added brightly.

“It looks like…you may be doing them…for quite a while, if you…don’t mind,” Lillian panted between groans while Wade rushed to the telephone and dialed the emergency service number.

“You poor darling.” Mari sighed, holding Lillian’s wrinkled hand. “What happened?”

“I missed Ward and wondered if he might be…if you might be…” She cleared her throat and stared at Mari through layers of pain. “You didn’t say anything to him?” she asked quickly. “About his…condition?”

Mari bit her tongue. Forgive me for lying, Lord, she thought. She crossed her fingers behind her. “Of course not,” she assured her aunt with a blank smile. “He was just telling me about the ranch.”

“Thank God.” Lillian sank back. “My leg’s broken, you know,” she bit off. She glanced up as Ward rejoined them, scowling down at her. She forced a pitiful smile. “Well, boss, I guess you’ll have to send for your grandmother,” she said slyly.

He glared at her. “Like hell! I just got her off the place! Anyway, why should I?” he continued, bending to hold her other hand. “Your niece won’t mind a little cooking, will she?” he added with a pointed glance at Mari.

Mari shifted restlessly. “Well, actually—”

“Of course she won’t.” Lillian grinned and then grimaced. “Will you, darling? You need to…recuperate.” She chose her words carefully. “From your bad experience,” she added, jerking her head toward Ward, her eyes pleading with her niece. “You know, at the shopping center?”

“Oh. That bad experience.” Mari nodded, glancing at Ward and touching her lower lip where it was slightly swollen.

A corner of his mouth curved up and his eyes twinkled. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?” he murmured.

“It was terrible!” Lillian broke in.

“You said it,” Mari agreed blithely, her blue eyes accusing. “Besides, I thought you couldn’t wait to push me out the door.”

“You want her to leave?” Lillian wailed.

“No, I don’t want her to leave,” Ward said with suffering patience. He lifted his chin and stared down his straight nose at Mari, then smiled. “I’ve got plans for her,” he added in a tone that was a threat in itself.

That was what bothered Mari. Now she was trapped by Lillian’s lies and Ward’s allegiance to his housekeeper. She wondered what on earth she was going to do, caught between the two of them, and she wondered why Ward Jessup wanted her to stay. He hated women most of the time, from what Lillian had divulged about him. He wasn’t a marrying man, and he was a notorious womanizer. Surely he wouldn’t try to seduce her. Would he?

She stared at him over Lillian’s supine form with troubled eyes. He had an unscrupulous reputation. She wasn’t so innocent that she hadn’t recognized that evident hunger in his hard mouth just before she’d started fighting him.

But his green eyes mocked her, dared her, challenged her. She’d stay, he told himself. He’d coax her into it. Then he could find some way to make her show her true colors. He was betting there was a little of Caroline’s makeup in her, too. She was just another female despite her innocence. She was a woman, and all women were unscrupulous and calculating. If he could make her drop the disguise, if he could prove she was just like all the other she-cats, he could rid himself of his unexpected lust. Lust, of course, was all it was. He forgave Lillian for her fall. It was going to work right in with his plans. Yes, it was.