Amber's Embrace (13 page)

Throughout the week, Amber had steeled herself toward seeing him again, ever mindful of her vow that things had to be toned down between them. Now, however, the sight of him stirred an excitement in her that threatened to drive all thought of restraint from mind. Determinedly, she fought it.

“How—how did the trip go?” she asked, finding clear thought suddenly more difficult, particularly when he propped himself on the edge of her desk. If he was at all tired from his trip and the hectic morning he must have had, there were no such signs on his ruggedly handsome face. He wore his customary hospital garb of a white jacket, parted now by the hand that thrust into the side pocket of his dark slacks, drawn snugly across the banded sinews of his thigh. The bronze sheen of his skin, the male set of his mouth, the patrician lines of his cheekbones and his nose, and the sensual depth of his eyes—all thrilled her as though for the first time. That those last, his eyes, remained locked into hers and made no move to skim her with anything akin to sexuality, relaxed her, bolstering her own attempt at evenness.

“It was productive. My lecture was received well. Hopefully, we may have won some supporters for the cause.”

“The International Center?” It was easier to maintain her composure when the discussion dealt with the hospital.

“Ummm. There were representatives from medical centers all over the country. I’ve sometimes worried that more of our support came from foreigners, when we need every last bit of the American following too.”

The apparent success of his trip brought a genuine smile to her lips. “That’s great! Is there anything I can add to this brochure?”

The darkness of his head tilted to allow him sight of the papers on her desk. When he leaned forward, her pulse speeded. “Not yet,” he murmured softly. “But”—he raised his eyes to hers by way of her lips—“you could join me for lunch.”

Reason commanded that she refuse his invitation. “I don’t know, Zachary. I’ve got so much to do in the next hour before I leave for the day.” The argument sounded weak, even to her—as though she were merely angling for further encouragement.

The sonorous timbre of his response indulged her. “Come on, Amber. You could use a break, too. You’ll just stay a few minutes later.” Humor lurked in his gaze, challenging her to maintain that there was other business that afternoon which could not be put off.

Reason was quickly cast aside, as she was all too prone to do in his presence. “You seem to have all the answers,” she murmured softly, flashing a shy smile in his direction. Leaning over to retrieve her pocketbook, she rose and followed him out of the office.

Lunch in the hospital cafeteria was at once the most pleasant and most agonizing experience she had had. Zachary sat beside her at a small table, leaning intimately close to her ear to talk and be heard over the steady drone of conversation surrounding him. If his words were impersonal, the presence of his long, lean body beside her was not. Reduced to a mass of raw nerve endings, she could only pick at her tuna salad, acutely aware of the strength of the thigh that rested against hers, flexing periodically beneath the table. When she raised her eyes in warning, his own told her that he knew exactly what he was doing and its profound effect on her, yet he somehow managed to keep the flow of conversation on that same innocent tone he had maintained in her office. It was only as they stood to leave, and his hand closed about the slimness of her upper arm, that she sensed his behavior had backfired.

Out of desperation, she began to pull away when they reached the long white corridor. “I’ll find my way back to the office. Thank you for lunch.” But the hand on her arm tightened and he kept apace with her. His motive in studying the doors on either side, as they passed, eluded her. She was taken totally off guard when he reached for one and drew her with lightning speed into a small utility closet.

“What—” The rest of her words were absorbed by his mouth, which clamped over hers forcefully, as the door closed to leave them in darkness. Instinctively, she protested, squirming from his grasp, only to find herself captured and held against the wall by the firmness of his body.

“Hold still,” he ordered, his voice low and husky. “I’ve wanted to do this since I laid eyes on you this morning. It’s been a very long week.”

His words held the ring of truth, for both of them. Amber had spent the majority of the week trying to push thoughts of him from mind—with little success. The memory of the fervor of his lips on hers, playing havoc with her senses, had haunted her, only to return now in vivid rebirth. But what of her vows, of her determination to avoid a repeat of their heady encounter? The nearness of him, the intimacy of his body against hers, the scent of clean maleness that tantalized her—all dulled her reserve.

When his lips descended to repossess her mouth, she struggled with the last remnants of sanity, holding her lips together tightly, stiffening her body against his onslaught. But it was useless. The initial force of his kiss gentled to a warm persuasiveness which overpowered her, sending shudders of delight racing along her spine. When his arms slid behind her back to draw her against him, she gave up the fight, yielding to the temptation of the pleasure of his masculinity.

Waves of sensation coursed through her veins, sending her arms creeping up, over his shoulders and into the thickness of the dark hair at the nape of his neck. With a sigh of ecstasy, she allowed him to part her lips and deepen the kiss. His tongue darted into the recesses of her mouth, thrilling her with each thrust. Slowly she responded, helpless in his arms. When his body crushed hers more tightly, she realized that it was the pressure of her own arms that encouraged the movement. The equilibrium she had tried so hard to maintain was a far memory, holding no place in the emotional quake that rocked her.

“Ah,” he groaned against the corner of her mouth, “that’s better.” His hands shimmied down to the small of her back, arching her against his manly lines until she caught her breath at his arousal.

“It won’t be, in a minute,” she warned laughingly, her breath coming in strangely hoarse gasps. “I’ve got to be getting back to work…”

To her instant regret, his arms slackened their hold, easing her back against the wall as his hands straddled it, his forehead resting against hers, his breathing unsteady. “You’re right, little lady. A good coach. Very effective.”

When he made no move to leave the closet, she chided him softly. “What if someone walks in here, Zachary. Your reputation…”

“… is that of the lady killer. It would only confirm what most of the nurses whisper on their coffee breaks, anyway.”

“Is that so?” The darkness hid her arched brow, though not the pointed teasing of her question.

His breath fanned the escaped strands of hair by her temple. “Jealous?”

“Who, me?” she retorted, too quickly. She was to wonder about that later, but, for now, there was only the problem of returning to a more sober state.

His subsequent gruffness puzzled her. “Forget I asked that. Listen, how about going out with me tomorrow night? We could go somewhere nice for dinner—”

“I can’t, Zachary. I already have plans.” Though she knew it was for the best, she was momentarily sorry she had agreed to meet David Brigham’s mysterious client.

Even in the darkness, his frown chilled her, accompanied by the imperceptible tensing of his limbs as he straightened. “I thought you didn’t ‘date’?” The accusation was made in a voice suddenly cooled.

“I don’t,” she hastened back, “not frequently anyway.” She was puzzled by his tension, simultaneously pleased and disturbed by the possessive quality of his manner. “It’s j—just a party—”

“With many an eligible man around.”

“Perhaps.” She had been independent for too long to idly submit to his implication.

Tautly stretched lips mocked her word “perhaps.” But the leering note in his tone carried an emotion she could not fathom. Within moments, she was escorted back into the hall and toward her office, the return walk accomplished in an awkward silence. His only parting words were an indifferent “have fun,” then he disappeared from the door and back the way he had come, his face drawn into a mask of studied calm.

*   *   *

The next day, Saturday, dragged on with agonizing slowness. Maddeningly, Amber’s thoughts retraced the events of the Saturday before, which had been filled with fun and pleasure. Zachary had been every bit the warm and stimulating companion, easygoing and understanding. The chill with which he had left her yesterday was out of character with the man she thought she knew. The memory of his indifference continued to baffle her. Was he angry? Unsure? Jealous? What was his great objection to the idea that she might see other men? After all, their own dating relationship had been barely established. Was his pride hurt? He had seemed so much more confident and strong; to lower himself to that kind of male arrogance did not befit the image she had built in her mind of him. Had she been wrong? Had she misjudged his true character?

Interspersed with these questions was the one filled with self-reproach. After those days of warning herself to resist his physical charms, she had capitulated fully and willingly. Why? What was it about the man, this one particular man, that devastated her? What was the nature of the power he held over her the instant he stepped close? For, she realized, she not only had him to fear, but herself. She could be her own worst enemy, quivering mindlessly in the embrace of this enigmatic man. How could she deal with him?

Distasteful as she found the thought of attending this party at David’s, she saw it as a necessity. Circulation was the word; if she wanted to meet other men, she had to make herself available. And, yes, if this one client whom David had in mind for her was not to her liking, there would certainly be others at the party. If worst came to worst, she could contrive return invitations from those potential beaux whom she had refused in the past. Some of them weren’t all
that
bad, she tried to convince herself, with negligible success.

For the party, she chose a lavender wrap dress of a soft crepe material. The waist, sashed and slim, gave way to a pleated fullness that mirrored the puff sleeves which gathered just above the elbow. The open vee neck slashed to a respectable depth, showing off the beige skin of her throat and the coral necklace she wore to perfection. Determined to project an air of maturity and sophistication, she wound the long silken strands of her blond tresses in a chic coil at the back of her head, fastening tiny coral studs on her earlobes and a thin coral bracelet about her wrist. Her makeup was applied with care, again to create the understated image of allure. With a last dab of perfume behind her ears, on her wrists, and in the provocative hollow between her breasts, she was off.

David Brigham was the consummate host, greeting her warmly at the door of his large Tudor home in affluent Chestnut Hill, leading her from guest to guest in proper introductory fashion, finally leaving her with several other singles to attend to a newer arrival. “Your fellow isn’t here yet,” he murmured softly in her ear before he left. “He said he’d be slightly delayed, but that he would be here.” With a pat to her elbow and a smile of encouragement, he moved on.

To her surprise, Amber found herself relaxed and interested in the conversation of the group. One of the men, a stockbroker in his midthirties, was particularly charming, deliberately drawing her into the discussion with the two others, a pair of academicians, man and woman, who seemed to be attached to each other in some way, though Amber could not quite figure out how. Nonetheless, they were pleasant company, complementing the polished words of the stockbroker with their own ivory-tower ideology. As the minutes passed, Amber nearly forgot that there was one guest, yet to arrive, for whom she was intended. Her enjoyment of the nascent evening was etched in the gentleness of the smile on her face, when David touched her elbow lightly, to attract her attention and finally introduce her to his late-arriving client. Turning, her gaze riveted instantly to one that she knew all too well.

“Zachary!” she whispered, cursing herself for not having insisted that David identify him on the phone. It was one coincidence too many. Embarrassment washed over her. Excitement surged through her. Annoyance blunted her nerve endings. Astonishment rendered further speech impossible. In short, a gaping abyss of emotional confusion threatened to swallow her up—until she was saved by the calm and courteous greeting of the tall man before her.

“You look beautiful, Amber. It’s good to see you again.”

CHAPTER SIX

“Do you two know each other?” David’s question and his obvious surprise broke through Amber’s daze, abruptly reminding her of her host’s presence which she had momentarily forgotten. Her eyes flew to his in confusion; again, she was rescued by the handsome doctor.

“We have had an opportunity to work together recently at the hospital,” the deep voice explained with ultimate composure, so opposite to Amber’s own tongue-tied state. A gracious smile curved his lips, yet failed to reach his eyes. “I’m pleased to have the chance to see her again.” His gaze, which had grown more piercing by the minute, finally shifted toward their host. “How did you happen to come across such a lovely woman, David?”

Even as Amber silently thanked Zachary for these precious moments he allowed her to regain her poise, she sensed an undercurrent of sarcasm in his words. Defensively, she lowered her head, studying the crisscross of her sandal straps as she awaited David’s response.

“I represent Amber, much as I do you, Zach. Actually, we’ve known each other for years.” He looked quickly at Amber, puzzled by her discomfiture. Pure fondness for her brought forth his follow-up. “Her parents are good friends of mine. I can remember when she was so high,” he sliced his hand at waist height, “and managed to wrap me around her baby finger.” The laughter just below the surface of his words brought Amber’s blond head up, her cheeks flaming brightly.

“David…” she warned gently, finding her voice enough to plead subtly that he discontinue that particular line of conversation. But in this case, Zachary was all too eager to hear more, rather enjoying her embarrassment.