Don’t Call Me Sweetheart (13 page)

A condescending nod was all the answer she was going to get.

“Then get out! Now!” she exploded, flinging a hand wildly in
the direction of the door, not caring if she gave him an eyeful or not. “I don’t
want to see you in my house ever again!”

Christian’s midnight eyes narrowed to mere slits as her
words repeated themselves in his bemused brain. It was several moments before
the full implication of what Whitney had just said sank in. Her house? Her
house! She was the new owner?

He dragged his fingers through his hair and sank to his
haunches on the floor beside the bathtub. He had to think.

Why would Whitney have purchased his home? How could she
have even known about it? He hadn’t told a soul other than Stephan about his
need for money. Last spring Tess hadn’t even known. Had he made Whitney so
angry that she had employed her considerable resources to find the one thing
that left him most vulnerable just for the sake of revenge? Tess had said she
was more than comfortably well-off, so he supposed it was within her means to
have done so. But she didn’t seem the type. He didn’t want to think that she
would be capable of something like that. But what else could he believe?

Whitney didn’t understand the puzzled looks that were
passing across Christian’s face and what was more she didn’t care to. He was
supposed to be out of her life, a part of her past. She didn’t want to be a
victim of her feelings for him again.

Apprehension clawed at her belly as he turned sideways to
give her a long, measuring look and she didn’t like the way his was clenching
his jaw. His eyes were unreadable in their intensity and instinctively Whitney
knew the tides had turned and she was about to be on the receiving end of his
anger. She’d been there before.

“You did it for spite, didn’t you?” As Christian pinned her
with his eyes, Whitney knew he didn’t really expect an answer.

“You bought my house right out from under me? Just because I
stole a few kisses and hurt your feelings?” He was shouting now, gripping the
edge of the bathtub as he threw the accusations at her.

Whitney refused to cower before him.

“You knew I bought Mountain Meadow Inn and you didn’t care! If
you had you would have never signed the contract,” Whitney railed back at him,
unmindful that she was no longer covered by anything other than the last
remnants of the quickly evaporating bubbles.

“I suppose now you want it back?” she taunted.

“Hell, yes! Why else would I be here, woman?” Christian’s
angry words were like a stinging slap to Whitney’s dream of building a life in
her new-found home. Nothing would be the same if he meant to return. By
ignoring the place for so long she had assumed, obviously incorrectly, that he
had washed his hands of the place. The buyback clause had been put in place to
protect the reputation of the inn just in case the new owner had proved
incompetent, which she hadn’t. Well, she wasn’t going to let it go without a
fight.

She reached out pushed angrily at him, causing him to lose
his balance and fall backward. As he did, she grabbed the large towel she had
placed on a nearby chair earlier and held it open in front of her, standing
quickly and stepping from the bathtub. She barely had time to wrap the snowy
white towel snugly around her before Christian was again on his feet and she
found herself pinned against the wall, his steely arms braced on either side of
her, blocking her escape. She looked up into his murderous eyes, seeing the
scathing fury. She had no fear. This man had poisoned her life and ruined her
chances to be happy with the only decent man to ever show her an ounce of true
love. She wasn’t going to let him do it anymore. She wanted him permanently out
of her life so that the friendship she felt for Stephan would stand a chance of
growing into love. It could never happen with Christian present.

You’re already in love.

“Oh, shut up!” she mentally commanded the annoying little
voice.

“If you didn’t want me to buy this place, why did you sign
it over in the first place?” she persisted, tipping her face into his when he
leaned over her. She was allowing the months of resentment over being ignored
to replace her good sense.

“I thought you bought it on a whim,” Christian ground out,
unwilling to believe that he could have been so wrong. He had been conned out
of his home by a revenge-seeking, rich brat! No, that wasn’t quite true. He had
practically handed it to her.

“That’s the most stupid, idiotic thing I’ve ever heard!” Whitney
went on rashly. “At least I was smart enough to ask a few questions before I
entered into this business deal. I knew you needed money or you wouldn’t have
sold this place. If it meant so much to you, you shouldn’t have done it. And I
would have thought that if the inn meant so much to you I would have heard from
you once in awhile.”

It didn’t matter that she was right on all counts. She
epitomized everything that had been wrong with Christian’s life lately. The
fact that he was financially in deficit while she was swimming in money. The
fact that he had demeaned himself for the sake of something precious while all
she had to do was sign a check to obtain anything her heart desired. And, the
fact that she was so amazingly beautiful, even more so than before. Her slender
body was only inches away, pushing him past limits no man could bear, past the
chaste limits he had lived with since she had left. Three times in the past she
had caused him to give in to his physical urges—just as he was going to do
again.

Savagely, he brought his lips down on hers, crushing them in
a kiss meant to master her, to punish her for her very existence and the power
she had over him. He stilled her protests with his tongue, slipping it into the
hot, moist recess of her mouth, tasting with pleasure the honeyed sweetness he
found there. His hand released her chin and he drew her tightly against him as
he eagerly pressed her luscious curves against the hard planes of his body. Thrusting
his hips against hers, he let her feel his powerful need as he held her trapped
against the wall, ignoring her frantic struggles while he greedily plundered
her soft mouth with his own.

Whitney tried in vain to break away, silently crying out
over and over in her mind, “No, no, nooo!” This couldn’t be happening again! She
wouldn’t allow herself to give in to the erotic feelings this man could make
spread through her like wildfire. Not this time. But his touch sliced her anger
to shreds, leaving her defenseless and vulnerable to the love hidden behind it.

The hot, demanding kisses took their toll. An urgent aching
need throbbed deep in her loins. Uncontrollable desire for his flesh to melt
into hers drained all rational thought from Whitney. She needed more, so much
more from him.

But she didn’t want a man like Christian. She couldn’t. She
tried to remind herself that she hated him for the humiliation he had heaped on
her, for stifling her ability to be with Stephan. He even made her hate her own
body for its shameful, wanton reaction to his fevered touch.

When his lips left hers to trail smoldering kisses along the
slender column of her neck, Whitney tried to weakly protest, “Christian…don’t. You
have to stop…please.”

“Stop what?” he murmured, letting his tongue trace her
sensitive earlobe, sucking on the soft flesh for a moment. “This?”

Against her will, her body arched against his in response,
encouraging him even further. “Or this,” he whispered huskily, tipping her head
back to allow him to once again ravish her quivering mouth. He only slowed his
seductive assault when he felt her resolve crumble.

Whitney felt it too. The struggle to maintain control of her
own body became too much to bear and at last, weary of the fight she
surrendered to her desires, the towel sliding unnoticed to the floor as she
entwined her arms around Christian’s neck. Her lips parted beneath his and she
hesitantly met his pleasure-giving tongue with her own warm, wet one. Christian
growled low in his throat and tightened his hold on her, crushing her against
the massive strength of his broad chest.

Whitney leaned into him, frightened by the noticeably hard
presence of his desire pressed boldly against her belly but secretly excited
that she could have that kind of control over him. A gasp escaped her when
Christian’s wicked hands boldly stroked her ribs, seductively brushing the
sides of her swollen breasts. From far away she heard her own yearning cry for
more as finally his hand splayed possessively across her full breast,
tantalizing her, pushing her to the brink of endurance as he kneaded the soft
mound with an expert touch.

Whitney stood trembling and naked within the circle of
Christian’s embrace, oblivious to everything except the magic his hands worked
on her fevered flesh as they roamed wherever he willed them.

When his fingers sought out a pink-tipped nipple and slowly
rolled it back and forth until it had become a taut peak Whitney thought she
would die of pleasure but still he gave her more. His lips trailed downward,
finding the nipple and sucking greedily at the feast of female flesh. Whitney
pushed her hands through his thick, black mane of hair, holding him to her as
she writhed with sexual desperation, all feelings of hatred long forgotten. When
her legs buckled Christian lifted her effortlessly and carried to the bedroom
where he carefully laid her against the pillows on the bed.

As the cool night air rushed to fill the void created when
Christian stepped away Whitney’s bemused senses cleared and she realized with
alarm what was about to happen. Christian had quickly stripped off his shirt
and she was powerless to tear her eyes from the sight of his muscled chest and
torso. As he kicked off his shoes and was reaching to slide the zipper of his
jeans open, his gleaming, passion-glazed eyes devouring the sight of her
perfectly shaped thighs and the dark, russet triangle nestled between them
Whitney panicked. Grabbing the coverlet she pulled it around her.

“You…have to…leave. Now!” she said, her breath coming in
ragged gasps. She jumped from the bed and backed toward the connecting door
leading back to the dressing room.

Christian followed her stealthily, smoothly, like any
predator would its prey. The look in his piercing eyes chilled Whitney to the
bone.

“I am going to have you, Whitney. On the bed, on the floor;
it doesn’t matter. I
will
love you tonight.” He said it in such a low,
deep voice she couldn’t be sure she had heard him correctly.

“No,” she cried frantically, taking another step backward in
the face of his relentless approach. “I don’t…want you!”

“Don’t lie to yourself. You want me just as much as I want
you.” There was an uncanny calmness about him, a relentless intensity to each
move he made. Whitney knew that unless she did something quickly his prophecy
would come true. Her tortured body was already turning on her as each step
brought him nearer, urging her to give in to him, to let her first experience
making love be with the man she would always love in her heart.

She shook her head, the look of a trapped doe in her wide
green eyes. But even that failed to stop Christian from rounding the end of the
bed and stepping closer to her, determination written across his ruggedly handsome
face. When her back suddenly bumped into the connecting door, Whitney dashed
behind it before he could stop her. She slid the lock into place just as his
shoulder smashed into the wooden barrier.

“Open this door, Whitney.” The harsh command was issued in a
tone others had learned to obey without question.

“Just leave, Christian. Please. I told you I don’t want to
see you anymore.” Donning underwear and slipping into a lacy bra as quickly as
she could, Whitney reached for her jeans and a sweater with trembling fingers
as she countered his order with one of her own.

From the other side of the door she heard him swear under
his breath but he restrained himself from further battering the door.

“Then get yourself dressed,” he growled. “We still need to
talk.”

“It doesn’t sound like you plan to do much talking if I come
out,” Whitney answered him stiffly, hastily pulling a comb through her tangled
mass of curls. “How do I know I can trust you not to touch me anymore?”

So. She’d convinced herself that his touch was so loathsome,
had she? Then he’d be damned if he would do so again before she asked for it,
Christian told himself ominously. The wench could just beg him to ease her
needs before he would lay a hand on her again.

“I’ll see if I can’t manage to keep my hands to myself,” he
promised through both the door and gritted teeth. “Can you do the same?”

Whitney gasped, outraged at the blatant referral to the
passionate responses he had elicited from her. She flung the door wide open and
faced him with her hands on her hips, sparks flying from her eyes.

“The only man I won’t keep my hands off will be my husband
and he sure as hell won’t be you!”

Black shards of ice met her gaze and they both silently
acknowledged the battle lines that had been drawn, despite their bodies’
attraction for each other.

“I don’t want to talk in the bedroom,” Whitney said
pointedly. “Follow me.”

Not liking her authoritative tone of voice but thoroughly
enjoying the swing of her hips from his vantage point behind her, Christian
followed her back through the connecting door and into the sitting room. She
seated herself on the couch and indicated she expected him to take a chair
across from her.

He did so but Christian couldn’t help commenting, “You’re
different, Whitney. What’s happened to you while you’ve been out here?”

“I’ve grown up,” she answered him, meeting his probing look
head-on. “I’ve learned not to run away from my problems anymore.”

“Was I one of those problems?”