Bewitched (17 page)

Holding her gaze, he toed off his shoes, then pulled down his slacks, removing his shorts and socks at the same time. He straightened, then stood there, letting her look her fill.

She took a leisurely perusal of his body, from his shoulders all the way down to his feet. Once that was done, her gaze lifted to focus on his erection. He throbbed painfully, feeling her attention like a tactile touch.

“Well?”

With warm cheeks and hot eyes she nodded. “You'll do.”

The laugh emerged as a bark, relieving a bit of his tension. He climbed back into bed with her. “Merely satisfactory, huh?”

“On the contrary.” She crawled over him, lying along his length, propping her elbows on his chest. Her voice turned low and husky as she stared down into his eyes. “You're so incredibly sexy there are no words.”

The breathless compliment pushed him right over the edge. “Charlie.” He turned her beneath him and kissed her deeply, groaning at the acute sensation of her nakedness beneath him. With her arms free this time, she explored him, her small palms coasting over his shoulders, down his spine to his buttocks. He groaned again, then reared back. “Damn it. I'm sorry, but I can't wait. I wanted to make this last, to glut myself on you—”

“How romantic.”

He shook his head, unable to banter with her at this moment when his need was so great. “I'll explode if I don't get inside you right now.”

Her smile was pure female satisfaction. “So explode. I'm not stopping you.”

Muttering another curse, he leaned over to the nightstand and grabbed the condom. Charlie watched in fascination as he put it on, then squealed when he quickly tucked her beneath him. “Put your legs around me.”

She obeyed. He reached between their bodies, touching her, opening her for his thrust. “You're small, honey.”

Her eyes were huge, watchful. “And you're not.”

“No.” He ground his teeth together while his fingers again explored her. Her feminine flesh was swelled, hot. And she was wet from her release. He closed his eyes. “I don't want to hurt you.”

“It's all right, Harry. I won't break.”

He wanted to laugh. Even now, she was full of bravado, unwilling to show any weakness. He wanted to wait, to ease into
her gently, but she kept touching him and her hips squirmed against him. His control snapped. With a harsh curse, he entered her.

She caught her breath, but didn't fight him.

“Easy, sweetheart.” He saw her through a red haze of overwhelming lust and tenderness, emotions that when mixed became volatile. She quivered, and her eyes closed, her neck arched. She gave a small moan, of pain or ecstasy, he couldn't tell. Then her legs tightened around his waist and her fingers tangled in his hair, and he was gone.

He rode her as gently as he could considering every muscle in his body strained for release. He felt sweat on his shoulders, felt her uneven breaths on his throat. And he felt Charlie, soft and inquisitive and delicate, despite the impression she liked to give the world.

Sliding one hand beneath her hips, he tilted her pelvis to allow him a deeper penetration, driven to bind their bodies together, to make her a part of him. She cried out, and her inner muscles clamped down on him.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he ground out through his teeth, thrusting harder, faster, his control a distant memory. “Come for me again. I want you with me.”

He felt the spasms in her legs first, then the way her entire body tensed. She caught and held her breath, her eyes squeezed tight, and she climaxed, holding him, whispering his name. Tears seeped past her lashes and as he joined her, his own release strong enough to steal his strength, the truth hit him. He loved her. Damn, how he loved her.

Now the real trouble would begin.

“O
H HARRY.
That was…indescribable.”

She heard a grunt that could possibly pass for a reply, and grinned. Harry at a loss for words? What a novelty.

Her hands coasted over his slick shoulders and she kissed his throat. He tasted good. He smelled good. She admitted he
was
good. Her body still tingled pleasantly in very interesting places. “I wouldn't mind doing this again.”

The grunt turned into a groan. With obvious effort, Harry raised his head. His light brown eyes were soft and sated and filled with some emotion she didn't understand.

He touched her hair, her cheek. “Insatiable, are we?”

“A tribute to your skill.”

“Hmm. I suppose I could be convinced—in about an hour.”

She laughed, then pushed at his shoulder. “In that case, you need to move. I have things to do.”

Obediently, Harry rolled to the side, sprawling on his back like a vanquished warrior. When she started to crawl over him, he made a sound of appreciation and pulled her flat to his chest. “Don't you know lovers are supposed to talk after sex? It's callous to just use me and then leave the bed without any soft whispering and cuddling.”

Toying with the hair on his chest, she laughed. “Callous, huh? I wouldn't want to be accused of that. But maybe we can talk later? I need to get going.”

A frown appeared where before he'd been all smiles. “Where is it you think you have to rush off to?”

She tried to get up again, but now he had both hands cupping her bare backside, anchoring her in place. “I told you, I want to go keep an eye on Jill.”

Harry closed his eyes with a soft curse. When he opened them again, she was struck by the cold determination there. “You don't need to do that.”

“So says a man who doesn't have a little sister. Look, Harry, I know you said you checked up on Dalton. But how much could you have really found out? There could be all kinds of skeletons in his closet, and until I'm assured—”

“There aren't.”

“You sound awfully sure of that.” She watched him skeptically, knowing that particular tone and look.

With a sigh, Harry lifted her to the side of the bed and sat up. “We need to talk.”

Charlie scrambled for the sheet and pulled it over her. “And we will. Later.”

Resignation darkened his features as he glanced at her over his shoulder. “I know your father.”

A strange foreboding made her stomach pitch. She pressed a fist to it and said logically, “Of course you do. You brought him here.”

He waved her logic away. “I knew him before that. I've known him for years.” He turned to face her, still naked, his powerful shoulders gleaming in the lamplight, his dusty brown hair rumpled. His gaze never wavered from hers but tension emanated off him, pelting her with his resolution. “Dalton Jones has been like a father to me.”

Feeling unsteady and sick, she moved away from him. She needed distance; she needed to be off the bed where they'd just made love. Backing up until she bumped into the dresser, she watched him. Harry never so much as flinched. “I don't understand.”

“Dalton has looked for you for years, honey. He's suffered more than any one man ever should.”

“You know him?” That one fact wouldn't quite penetrate.

Harry stood, too, but when she clutched her sheet tighter, he went still, making no move toward her. “My father was a cold, distant man who barely knew I existed. Dalton stepped in and did all the things for me that a father should do. He supported me in my decisions, and helped me get through my divorce from hell. He encouraged me and—”

“And did all the things for you that he didn't do for me.” She felt lost, wounded to her soul.

“Not because he didn't care! He's spent a small fortune trying to locate you and Jill.”

Not for anything would Charlie let him see how he'd hurt her, how her heart felt ready to break into pieces. She clutched at the sheet and tried to order her thoughts into some decipherable rationale. “Why didn't you tell me?”

Locking his jaw, Harry paced away, giving her a distracting view of his muscled backside. It angered her that even now she was drawn to him, finding him irresistible.

He turned to face her and propped his hands on his hips. “I didn't know what the hell to do when you asked me to find your father. At the time, I felt my loyalty was to Dalton. It was his responsibility, his
pleasure,
to get to explain that he hadn't abandoned you. But you were so hostile about the whole thing, so…detached. You'd sent him that damn letter—”

“You knew about the letter?”

He gave a small nod. “I knew. Dalton told me that very night at the hospital. And he asked me not to tell you the truth yet, because he wanted a chance with you. He thought if I pretended to investigate him, I could give you a few facts that might soften you toward him.” That word
pretend
felt like a slap, bringing home just how
much of her relationship with Harry was based on lies and manipulations. “So you played along?”

“Honey, I didn't know what else to do. I tried to talk him out of it, but he was afraid of losing you again.”

“And of course, what he wanted is the only thing that mattered. I mean, you hardly know me really. I'm just…” She stopped in midsentence because she had no idea what she meant to Harry. Obviously not much or he couldn't have deceived her so easily. Needing something to do before she fell apart, she went to the closet and pulled out a T-shirt.

The bed creaked when Harry sat back down. “I'm so sorry, Charlie. I swear I never meant to hurt you.”

She pulled clean jeans from the dresser, fighting off the tears the best she could. “I understand. I don't like it, of course.” The laugh, sounding close to hysteria, took her by surprise and she quickly suppressed it. “I feel pretty damn foolish, too. I can just imagine how the two of you must have been snickering. Especially after my stupid display tonight.”

“No.”

He started to get up, to come to her, but she warned him off with a bleak look. If he touched her, she'd sit down and cry like a baby, and that was something she hadn't done in too many years to count. “Don't even think it, Harry. The pretense is over.”

Eyeing her rigid stance, he said carefully, “It wasn't all a pretense.”

“No? Well, some day you'll have to tell me which parts came close to the truth. Right now, I'm just not interested. I'd like you to leave.”

He swallowed hard, still watching her. “No.”

“I need to get dressed!” The panic was real, making her voice too loud, too high. She needed to be alone. Already her hands were shaking and her legs were following suit.

“Charlie.” Despite her warnings, he started toward her.
She shook her head, but he looked more determined now than ever. “We have to talk about this.”

“About how you used me? How you played along so Dalton wouldn't be disappointed?” His hands reached for her and her temper snapped. Without really thinking it through, she slapped him. Hard. The loud crack of her palm striking his handsome face sounded obscene. For an instant, they both froze. Then she covered her mouth, appalled.

Harry fingered his cheek, his brows up in surprise. “I didn't see that coming. Knowing you as I do, I was watching for a fist, or maybe a kick. Not a feminine slap.”

“Don't you dare tease me now.”

“I'm sorry. But Charlie, there's more I have to tell you.”

“Oh?” Her stomach clenched, but she forced herself to be flippant. “Did you maybe just fake what we did in bed?”

Incredulous, he stared at her a moment, then laughed. “Honey, men can't fake a thing like that.”

Her teeth ground together. “You know what I mean. And don't call me honey.”

He hesitated for the briefest moment. “No, I didn't fake it.” His gaze softened, turned intimate, and he whispered, “I love you.”

Her chest hurt so much she gasped. She felt raw and exposed, and she almost hated him.
Almost.
“Did Dalton tell you to say that? To do whatever was necessary to appease me?”

“No.”

In a burst of temper, she snapped, “Will you at least put some damn clothes on!”

His expression didn't change. “Dalton had a heart attack the day you sent the letter.” He caught her before she dropped to the floor, then led her to the bed. He spoke quickly now, rushing his words together. “I was so worried about him, it's part of the reason I let him talk me into this harebrained plan, because I didn't want to see him disappointed again. You've been so hurt, I couldn't guess how you might react to the truth,
if you'd even give Dalton a chance. And if you didn't, with his health in danger—”

She was back off the bed in a flash, no longer worried about her sheet or keeping her body covered. She jerked on her jeans and pulled the T-shirt over her head, then stepped into a pair of sneakers.

“Charlie—”

She rounded on him. “You bastard!” Stepping close so she could shake a fist in his face, she yelled, “My father could have died, and you didn't tell me?”

He caught and held her fists. “He's fine now, Charlie. He only needs to be more cautious.”

She shoved him away then turned for the door. Harry grabbed her shoulder. “Where are you going?”

“To see him. I want you out of my place.” She picked up a key off the dresser and flung it at him. “Let yourself out.”

“Wait!” He started rushing into his own clothes. “I'll go with you.”

“Ha!”

“It's not safe, Charlie! Damn it, you don't know what's going on!”

But she was already hurrying down the hall. Harry tried to follow after her, and she barely slipped through the door in time. She heard his fist hit it with incredible force, and he yelled her name again. She ignored him. She knew by the time he got the key and unlocked the door, she'd be gone. And if she never saw him again, it was only what she deserved.

 

C
HARLIE CHECKED
first at Maria's, the restaurant where they'd planned to eat, but Dalton and her sister weren't there. She assumed they had gone on to Dalton's jewelry store, so she headed in that direction. At the moment, she had no idea what she planned to say to her father, but she needed to reassure herself that he was okay. Whether he cared about her or not, he was her father, and that mattered. It mattered more than
she'd ever thought possible, and she now regretted all her plans for revenge. It made her almost sick to think she might have played a part in his ill health with her hurtful letter.

All her concentration was centered on the problem with her father. She couldn't think about Harry. If she did, she might start bawling like a baby. She loved the arrogant, obnoxious jerk, and yet he'd used her. The really sad part was, she could understand his reasons for the deception. In his position, she might have done the same. And if she hadn't pushed so hard, their relationship probably wouldn't have become intimate. She had only herself to blame. She'd been a complete fool—and she'd behaved like her mother. The truth hurt so bad she didn't think she could stand it.

She trudged up the sidewalk to the jewelry store, lost in thought. At first she didn't notice when a car pulled up beside her. Absently, she turned to look, and was stunned to see Floyd in the passenger seat, grinning at her with evil intent. The car stopped and she broke into a dead run, but she'd only gotten a few feet before he caught her arm and jerked her back. She stumbled, going down hard on one knee. She groaned at the jarring pain.

The car pulled alongside and Ralph got out. “Get her in the back seat.”

Hearing that cleared the pain from her knee enough to allow her to fight. She started kicking and shouting, doing anything she could to fend them off. Somehow she knew if they got her in the car, she might never get out again.

Floyd managed to drag her as far as the curb, using her arm and her shirt collar for leverage. Even in her struggle, she saw the unfamiliar man in the front seat. She had the brief impression of a polished businessman before shouts sounded behind her. Her blood nearly froze when she recognized Dalton's voice.

“No!” He couldn't get into a skirmish because of her, not with his heart condition. If anything happened to him… She
doubled her efforts, and caught Floyd low in the stomach with a fist. He grunted and loosened his hold. She tried to roll away, but Ralph reached for her.

“Let her go!” Dalton leaped onto Ralph's back, knocking him down, all the while cursing so vividly Charlie couldn't help but be impressed. The third man in the car got out and started toward them with a purposeful stride.

Suddenly other men were there, leaving their shops in a rush, leaping into the fray, crowding together on the sidewalk. It became a chaotic free-for-all with the elderly swinging canes and brooms and fists. Vile threats filled the air from both factions. Charlie was tossed aside and landed on her butt, but she was back up in a heartbeat when she saw the man from the car reach inside his jacket.
Oh God, a gun!

Dalton threw himself in front of her, and no matter how she tried, she couldn't get around him. The brawl ended, no one daring to move. Floyd and Ralph, with a lot of blustering, brushed themselves off and straightened their jackets. Six older men and two gray-haired women stood in a circle, their hands in fists, their faces red.

“What should we do with them all, Carlyle?”

Carlyle.
Again, Charlie strained to see around Dalton's shoulder, curious about the man Harry wanted so badly. After being kidnapped and harassed, she owed Carlyle much, and now with him threatening her father her rage grew.

She ducked under Dalton's arm, but before she could take two steps Harry was there. In a flash, he was around the parked car, jerking Carlyle's hand up so the gun fired in the air with a loud crack of sound, and wrapping one long muscled arm around his throat, squeezing tight enough to make Carlyle's eyes bug. Sirens whined in the distance.