Desert Devil (17 page)

He sat up and started buttoning his shirt. One of the buttons tangled in the material and he yanked at it so savagely the material ripped and the button flew across the room. Juli was still almost in shock, still trying to understand his angry words, and her own feelings were as yet unformed into anger.

"What do you mean by that?" she gasped in bewilderment.

"That phony business about the water," he said contemptuously. "Do you think I'm so damned stupid I couldn't figure out that you'd flipped off the switch to the pump at the electrical box? Oh, yes, you had it all figured out before we ever left the trailer this morning. I thought you were so sweet and innocent, unlike most of the women I know, but instead you're just another cheap, conniving little schemer. And then when I respond just the way you plan, you suddenly get cold feet and go all coy and scared. You might at least be woman enough to go through with it!"

Juli felt totally bewildered, shriveled by the hot blast of his angry tirade. His face was dark with fury, the gray-green eyes brilliantly dangerous. She had the panicky feeling that in this frame of mind he was capable of doing anything. She was aware that they were alone and she was helpless against his superior strength and fury. What had happened to that warm, companionable nature she had found in him today? Was that human, accessible side of him only a pretense that disappeared whenever he met opposition? Or perhaps it was even less than that, she thought unhappily. Perhaps it had never even existed outside her own naive, hopeful imagination.

But she still couldn't really comprehend what he was accusing her of. "You think I tried… I deliberately planned to seduce you? That I deliberately did something to the pump so you would have to invite me over here?" She shook her head at the incredulousness of this idea. "Even
if
I wanted to arrange such a thing, I wouldn't have the slightest idea how to—"

Juli broke off suddenly, her mouth forming an O of surprised remembrance. Though not with the deliberate intent he suggested, she evidently
had
turned the pump off. Last night when she was at the electrical box with the flashlight, she had flipped several switches back and forth, trying to make the lights come back on. She must have turned off the switch to the pump and then, when the lights blinked on, not switched it back to the proper position.

But to have Thorne think she had done such a thing with the deliberate intent of seducing him and spending the night with him—! Of all the colossal, egotistical, incredible nerve! Juli's shock and incredulousness suddenly lumped into cold fury. She stood up and furiously stuffed the tail of her blouse into the waist of her pants.

"What are you doing?" he asked, eyes narrowed.

"I think it's obvious that I'm dressing," she snapped. She fumbled the buttons of her blouse through the buttonholes.

His hand shot out and caught the silky material at her throat, both of them aware that with one jerk he could rip the blouse open to her waist. "Little girls who tease sometimes find they have to pay off," he said with dangerous softness.

She held her back rigid. "I'm going home now," she stated defiantly.

"Oh, no, you're not." His voice was grim. "You schemed and planned to spend the night in my bed. And that is exactly what you're going to do."

Thorne locked his powerful grip around her arm and shoved her roughly down the hallway. He hardly looked at her, yanking her along like some animal on the end of a leash when she balked.

"You can't do this!" Juli stormed, furious at him and angry with herself, too, because the protest came out squeaky instead of commanding.

He paused beside a closed door. "Can't I?" he taunted.

Juli tried to pull away, but there was no escaping the iron grip on her arm, cruel and impersonal as a shackle. "I… I'll scream!"

He lifted an eyebrow and waited for her to make good on the threat. Juli swallowed convulsively, knowing that even if she tried to scream, little sound would come from her dry throat. And what good would it do? Would Estelle come running to the rescue? Hardly. Her blouse had come unbuttoned again and she clutched at it with her free hand.

With another contemptuous glance at her, Thorne shoved the door open and flipped a light switch that turned on a lamp by the bed. Even in her state of shock, Juli was aware of a rugged elegance about the room that reflected Thorne's personality. The bedroom was thoroughly masculine, yet at the same time luxurious, with a king-sized bed covered with a spread in a bold Aztec design, paneled walls, corner fireplace, lush gold-brown carpeting, and mirrored closets. She caught a glimpse of her own disheveled reflection, eyes wide and dark, skin pale. Next to Thorne's tall, powerful figure, she looked almost fragile and helplessly at his mercy. She dragged her feet as he yanked her toward the enormous bed, and with a growl of impatience he swept her up in his arms and threw her across the bed.

She lay there for a moment, frozen with panic, then scrambled to the far side of the bed. She grabbed the only weapon she could reach, a downy pillow, realizing how foolish and flimsy a defense it was, and yet facing him defiantly with it.

Thorne stood there looking down at her, hands clenching and unclenching, as if he fought with something within himself. His chiseled lips had a twist of contempt, but desire still gleamed in his eyes, dark as a stormy green sea.

Juli huddled on the bed, not knowing if she was more afraid of his contempt or his desire. In this mood he seemed capable of anything, an untamed savage driven more by angry desire than reason. She didn't try to escape from the bed. He was between her and the door. Slowly she pulled herself up on the bed, her eyes never leaving his, until her back was against the headboard.

He took a menacing step toward her. "I ought to—" he growled. He broke off, lips compressed. Then his voice went hard and flat. "I turned on the switch to the pump at the trailer. I think you'll find your water problems solved when you return."

With that he spun on his heel and slammed the door as he stalked out. Juli lay there a moment, too astonished to move, then leaped to her feet and darted to the door. With trembling fingers she turned the lock on the knob, though that hardly seemed necessary with the sound of his angry footsteps thudding down the hallway.

Juli leaned weakly against the door. Had he changed his mind at the last minute about forcing her to submit to his will? Or had it all been a bluff? Whatever the reason, relief flooded over her as she massaged her arm, numbed by his tight grip.

But as the feeling came back into Juli's arm, angry outrage replaced that first instinctive surge of relief. How dare he throw her in this room like some sort of harem prisoner? This was twentieth-century Arizona, not some medieval kingdom in which women were treated like chattel! Well, he needn't think he was going to get away with this, she thought furiously, because she was not about to spend the night in this bedroom, no matter how luxurious it might be. She would simply—

Her thoughts broke off and she slowly dropped to the edge of the huge bed. She would simply
what
? Walk home across the ridge in the dark? She would be a pincushion before she got halfway to the trailer.

She would simply call a cab! That seemed a reasonable solution, and her glance darted around the room searching for a phone. There was none. Thorne, she thought wryly, was obviously not the type of man who wanted to be interrupted in bed by the ringing of a phone. So she would find a phone somewhere else. She had her hand on the doorknob before she paused with second thoughts. There were undoubtedly phones at various locations in the house, but she would first have to find one. What if she ran into Thorne again? That thought sent a shiver up her spine. He had, for now at least, evidently decided to leave her alone, but if she roused his anger further…

And then another dismaying thought struck her.

Thorne's thorough mind had undoubtedly already considered the thought that she might call a cab, and by now he had surely closed the exterior gates to the estate so a cab couldn't even get to the house.

So it appeared, she decided reluctantly, that she was stuck here for the night. She took another, longer look around the room, grudgingly admiring the earthy colors and lush materials. She walked over to glance into the bathroom. Sage-green towels hung neatly on the racks, and the dressing table held an assortment of masculine toiletry items. Boldly, she inspected the closets, too, half-expecting to find one full of Nicole's clothes, but there were only Thorne's well-cut business suits and other more casual attire.

Then she stood in the center of the dimly lit room wondering what to do next. She debated about going back to the den for her purse, but decided against it because of the risk of encountering Thorne again. She would pick it up in the morning, along with her bathing suit and other clothes out in the bathhouse. On reflection, however, she was not sure she ever wanted to see that bathing suit again, much less wear it, because she knew it would always remind her of this humiliating evening.

She took a brief, stinging shower and slid naked between sheets that felt cool and silky to her bare skin. She was determined that at first break of dawn, as soon as there was light enough to make her way safely across the ridge, she would be up and gone.

But sleep would not come. Partly it was because she was still suspicious of Thorne's intentions, doubtful that even a locked door would keep him out if he made up his mind he wanted back into the bedroom. Partly it was because of the unfamiliar feel of the silky sheets against her naked skin. Back home, on hot nights, she occasionally slept without a nightgown, but here the lack made her feel uncomfortably vulnerable. The contemptuous curl of Thorn's lips said he had no desire to touch her, but the look in his eyes had contradicted that. Would he change his mind and return?

She propped herself up in bed with the pillows and kept a wary eye aimed in the direction of the door to the hall. Where was Thorne now? What was he doing? Her mind went back over his incredible accusation. He really believed she had deliberately tampered with the pump and schemed to spend the night here with him. She remembered her feeble attempt to deter him from going out to the pump house. That probably helped prove to him his suspicions were correct! And he also thought she had deliberately led him on here at the house and then backed out at the last minute. Of all the colossal, insufferable, egotistical nerve! Did he consider himself so irresistibly attractive that every woman he met was out to seduce and ensnare him?

And yet, with a small twinge of guilt, she remembered that she had also wondered if he had deliberately
not
fixed the pump so she would have to accept his invitation to come here. Was thinking that also colossal ego on her part? Oh, she felt so mixed up and confused!

It was all so unfair!
He
was the one who had teased and tantalized and challenged her all evening. What woman wouldn't respond to the romantic setting and the champagne and his expert lovemaking? Why should he then be contemptuous because she did respond? Perhaps his real fury came because things hadn't worked out the way
he
had planned, because she hadn't fallen all the way into his seductive trap.