JAKrentz - Uneasy Alliance (3 page)

"Mr. Cool, hmmm? Well," she began in her best sales tone, "it just so happens that MegaLife makes a basic, high-potency formula that is designed to meet all the daily needs of the cool, healthy male in his forties—"

"In that case, I've got a year's grace before I have to start in on them," Torr interrupted calmly.

"Oh, sorry. You're not forty?"

"Next year." He sipped his cognac, not appearing unduly upset by her assumption of his age. "What about you, Abby? Which daily formula are you taking?"

"The one for the healthy female in her thirties," Abby replied, sighing.

"I would have said you'd need the one for the woman in her twenties."

"Thanks." She grimaced. "Actually, I'm twenty-nine but I decided to advance to the higher potency formula a year early."

"Plus a few supplements such as that B complex you downed out there in the kitchen?"

"Can't be too careful. Now that we've exhausted that topic, what would you like to discuss?" She gave him a bright, aloofly inquiring glance as she took a sip of her cognac. It was getting late and she was beginning to wonder how she was going to get rid of Torr Latimer. He didn't show any signs of finishing his drink and making a polite exit.

"Us."

Abby choked on her cognac and Torr got to his feet in concern as she began to cough. An instant later she felt a solid thump on her back that nearly sent her sprawling across the smoked-glass coffee table.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his hand in readiness to strike again.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine, thank you!" she gasped, battling to regain her breath and her equilibrium. "Uh, Torr…Mr. Latimer, it's getting awfully late. Don't you think you'd better be heading home? I know you commodities people must get up very early. The markets are back East, aren't they?"

"Tomorrow's Saturday. The market's closed on Saturday."

"Oh." She frantically searched her brain for another excuse.

"Abby, I'm sorry if I disconcerted you," he said gently as he sat down again in the black armchair and reached for his cognac. His face was set in a faint frown and his eyes watched her with the intensity of a hawk.

"Torr," she said, grabbing for her self-control, "I think this is a very good time to tell you that I'm not looking for a relationship of any kind at the moment. My life is very busy just now. I have my business to attend to and…and several other matters of a personal nature that I won't bore you with. If you're thinking of suggesting that we, uh, become involved, then I'm afraid I must regretfully decline."

"Regretfully decline?" There was a sudden trace of something that might have passed for humor in his amber eyes.

"That did sound a bit stilted, didn't it?" she admitted.

"It sounded as if you were turning down a formal invitation to a garden party."

"I'm sorry. Frankly, you've caught me off guard. I really do have a lot of things on my mind tonight."

"I'm not inviting you to a garden party, Abby. I was about to invite you to bed."

Abby closed her eyes and tried again to catch her breath. This man had a way of knocking it out of her, even when he didn't lay a hand on her. "Since you insist on being very forthright about your invitation, then I will try to show you the same courtesy," she finally managed icily. Regally she got to her feet. The jeans and black sweater she was wearing didn't detract a bit from the cool, dismissive air she was attempting to project. "The answer is no. Good night, Torr."

He watched her a moment longer as if debating his next move. Then he too got to his feet, a strangely rueful expression on his face.

"I rushed that a bit, didn't I? Not like me, really. I'm usually rather slow and cautious. Especially when I'm dealing with a particularly fragile sort of flower. Abby, I won't push you. But I'd like us to be clear about our relationship and where it's going. Right from the start. Things will be simpler that way."

"Simpler?" she uttered, unable to collect her thoughts. His heavy strength was intimidating on some levels, but oddly alluring on others. She must be out of her mind to be fascinated with this man. She ought to be sending him home at once in his elegantly staid foreign car. She should never have allowed him to drive her home in the first place.

"I didn't get a chance to finish telling you all the ways you remind me of a flower," Torr went on huskily, moving closer, putting out a large hand to gently cup the nape of her neck.

"Torr…"

"I told you that your waist was as slim as the stem of a daffodil," he murmured, lowering his head to her throat. "But I didn't get around to explaining that your breasts make me think of two very delicate, very luscious orchids."

Abby felt his strong fingers skim lightly down the front of her black sweater, seeking the shape of her small rounded breasts. This was where she should be getting nervous, she told herself. She was a fool not to push him away. Or was it even possible to push a rock of Torr's size and density?

That thought caught at her imagination and her fingertips came up to shove almost experimentally at his broad chest. Nothing happened. He didn't appear to even notice the cautious, testing push she gave him.

Abby drew in her breath and waited for the uncertainty and the hint of fear that ought to be materializing in her brain. Neither came.

She had a few seconds to realize that the tendrils of flickering emotion curling deep in her body were not the first questing thrusts of fear but of an unfamiliar excitement, and then she felt Torr's hands gliding down to her waist and over the contours of her hips.

Torr uttered a deep, thick groan as he found the curves of her lower body. "And your sweet, soft little rear makes me think of a gladiolus."

"Not a Venus's-flytrap?" Abby managed tartly as she struggled to find a way to deal with a situation that she sensed could easily get out of control.

"Never," he vowed and then his mouth moved up along the line of her throat to hover just above her uncertainly parted lips. "I've been aching to taste you all evening." His lips closed on hers with an urgency and a hunger that Abby realized instantly were only just held in check. The thought that this man, who seemed in such possession of himself, wanted her this much was unsettling and intoxicating.

There was no cautious sampling of the nectar he clearly expected to find. Instead, just as Abby had distantly sensed earlier that evening, Torr Latimer overwhelmed and claimed her mouth as if it were his by right. Abby knew that if she had been lying beneath him instead of standing on her feet she would have been crushed exactly as she had imagined.

What shook her was that the prospect didn't hold the fear it should have held.

She felt his hands slide heavily down her back again to cup the curves of her derriere and then he used the intimate grip to urge her against his thighs. Abby moaned as she felt the evidence of his arousal and knew he wanted her to be aware of it.

"I've been thinking about this since the first night of class. Tonight I decided I couldn't wait any longer. You intrigue me so, sweet Abby. You make me want you. And it's been so long…" The words disappeared into her mouth as he thrust his tongue deeply inside.

If that was all this was about, Abby decided in sudden anxiety, she would end it now. If Torr Latimer had simply been so long without a woman that any woman would do, she was certainly not going to be accommodating. The thought gave her the strength to push much more fiercely against his broad shoulders.

He didn't release her, but one of his hands moved to soothe the back of her neck, holding her with gentle firmness as she attempted to wrench free her mouth.

Still there was no fear, only the unexpected tantalizing excitement. Abby could feel it pulsing through her now, knew that Torr undoubtedly sensed it. She trembled against him and he muttered something that sounded very male and very satisfied. Then slowly, with a reluctance that left her mouth damp and tremulous, he raised his head.

His amber eyes were flaring with the force of his desire and Abby saw the deep intent at the bottom of the golden pools. Her body throbbed with the sensual awareness he had created and her mind spun with unasked questions and an unnamed need. Both the awareness and the need were so foreign that she didn't want to bring herself to face them directly. Everything was moving much too fast.

And then everything came to a screeching halt with Torr's next words.

"Abby, honey, I have to know now if there's anyone else. Are you free to be with me tonight? Is there any other man in your life?
Tell me
!"

For the first time since she had let him into her apartment, her initial tendrils of uncertainty were colored with the fear that had been strangely absent. "What are you asking, Torr?" she whispered.

"You know what I'm asking. I'm not nearly as subtle as you seem to think," he ground out as his hand moved through her honey-shaded hair and dislodged the loose knot that held it at the back of her head. The thick mass tumbled to her shoulders and he watched with fascination. "Just tell me the truth, Abby. That's all I ask. I won't share you."

"Nobody asked you to share me! Torr, my private life is my business. I do not make explanations to anyone, least of all to a man I barely know."

"I'm not involved with anyone else," he said simply.

Abby's blue eyes narrowed as she looked up at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"That I'm being honest with you. I'm free to be here with you. All I ask is the same assurance in return. Do you belong to another man?"

She felt caught, trapped by the apparent desire for honesty, which she could not fault, yet made uneasy by the implicit possessiveness that lay buried in his question. Ultimately it was pride that governed her answer—pride and innate self-defense.

"Torr, I do not belong to any man." She saw the satisfaction move deep in his eyes and continued quickly, "And I want it made very clear that I'm not interested in belonging to a man. I'm accountable only to myself."

"As long as you're free now, I'm willing to wait to discuss the rest of the matter," he murmured. His mouth curved faintly as his thumb worked along the side of her jaw.

"Then you will wait a very long time," she snapped. He released her as she twisted out of his arms, but his eyes followed her every movement. She occupied herself by picking up the empty cognac glasses and carrying them into the kitchen. Tidying up gave her an excuse to stay out of his reach.

He followed her, coming to stand in the kitchen doorway. His dark grim presence fed her unfolding anxiety. She wanted him gone and the sooner the better. It had been a mistake to let him bring her home.

"Good night, Torr."

"You're afraid of me, aren't you?" he demanded wonderingly.

"Let's just say I think it's time I exercised a little caution," she retorted.

"I wouldn't hurt you."

"I only have your word on that, don't I?" she observed laconically. "It's been my experience that men are quite capable of hurting women, especially women they think they own. I have no desire to get involved with anyone right now, Torr, but if I did, it wouldn't be with a possessive man. And, frankly, I'm getting the impression you might be the possessive type."

His mouth hardened and she could see the calculating intent in him as he stood there so solidly in her doorway. "Will you tell me about it, Abby?" he finally asked quietly.

"No." She smiled icily. "It's none of your business."

"How can you say that when it's affecting what happens between you and me?"

"Good night, Torr. Thank you for the ride home."

He didn't move. "I'll see you tomorrow." It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

"I'm going to be busy tomorrow."

"Abby, you're judging me without giving me a chance. There's no need to be afraid of me."

His sureness melted some of the ice in her smile. "I don't think you realize quite how overwhelming you are, Torr."

"You weren't afraid of me in class or when I kissed you. Don't make snap judgments, Abby. Give us both some time. Let me take you out to dinner tomorrow night." He stepped forward as she started to shake her head and caught her face between his large palms with surprising gentleness. As her lips began to shape the word no, he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed the negative back into her throat.

Abby tensed, waiting for the fear to surge to the surface. But all she felt was the heavy warmth of Torr's body reaching out to cloak her. His kiss was no less forceful or enthralling than it had been the first time, but she still didn't respond with outright tension or anxiety. Instead, she realized wryly, she merely responded. Period.

The sensation was captivating.

"Dinner?" he whispered urgently, his mouth poised just above hers. "Please?"

"I… "

"Please, Abby."

She closed her eyes and did a quick rundown of all the reasons why she shouldn't and then she heard herself saying hesitantly, "All right, Torr. Dinner. Nothing else."

"Thank you." The gratitude in his deep voice made her feel awkward, as if she had overreacted. "I'll pick you up at seven. We'll go to that new place downtown near the Benson."