Stormy Vows/Tempest at Sea (18 page)

She didn't pretend to misunderstand him. “It's only been two weeks,” she said with forced lightness.

He reached out to stroke the silky curve of her shoulder. “It seemed like two years. Why do you think I've been working so hard? I'm not used to celibacy, Brenna.”

Her eyes flew to his face, and a blush dyed her cheeks at what she saw there.

“God knows, I've tried to be patient,” he went on roughly. “I wanted you to come to me. I didn't want to take you. Every night when I finally did get to bed, I'd lie there aching, knowing that you were just across the hall. I've been going through hell. I can't take it anymore.”

He lifted her effortlessly so that she was sitting on his knees. His mouth covered hers with an aching sweetness, and then with a groan, his lips parted hers and his tongue invaded her with a savage need. With a swift movement he rolled her over so that they were lying side by side on the recliner, his mouth open and working erotically on hers, demanding her responses. His
leg urgently parted her thighs. His thighs felt rough and masculine, she thought feverishly, the fine hair caressing the smoothness of her limbs with a sensual abrasiveness.

“God, you feel so good,” Donovan groaned breathlessly, burying his face in the curve of her shoulder. With shaking hands he worked at the back fastening of her bikini top, and in seconds the flimsy strip of material was removed from between their bodies. His hands reached around to curve over her swollen breasts, kneading the sensitive mounds with a rhythmic urgency that caused her to cry out with the sudden heat that shot through her body. She arched against him convulsively, her hips moving blindly in an attempt to fit herself to his loins.

He shuddered, and tore the towel from around his hips in a frantic attempt for a closer unity, and Brenna drew her breath in sharply, as she felt the taut flesh burning through the cool dampness of his trunks. His mouth was on one taut nipple, his tongue teasing it maddeningly while his thumb flicked its sensitive mate, until she was writhing, her breath coming in little gasps. “Please,” she begged. “Michael, please…”

One hand traveled from her breast to the tense muscles of her stomach, stroking and rubbing the silken skin caressingly, before slipping down beneath the bikini briefs, his other hand loosening the ties at her hips. He lifted and threw back his head, the cords standing out on his strong throat. “God! I want you! Now!” he said, tormented. He closed his eyes, his hands still moving compulsively on her body.

He drew a deep breath, and a convulsive shudder shook his body. Suddenly he rolled away from her, and was on his feet beside the recliner, his hands clenched into fists. He looked down at her, his chest heaving with the effort he was making for control.

She looked up at him, her bare breasts moving rapidly with the same emotion that was wracking him.

“Cover yourself!” he said thickly. “Or so help me, I'll take
you right here and now, and I won't give a damn how public it is.”

She sat up slowly and looked around for something to cover herself. The bikini top seemed to have disappeared, and she was looking around for it vaguely, when Donovan gave a smothered imprecation and reached down for the towel he had discarded. He threw it to her impatiently.

She clutched it obediently, tucking it beneath her arms, not realizing how provocative the pose was.

Donovan's face was set in harsh lines, his blue eyes burning with flames not yet subsided. “I've got appointments and meetings set up all day and most of the evening,” he said grimly, his gaze drawn compulsively to the high curves of her breasts beneath the towel. “So you have another reprieve. It's your last one, Brenna, and for only twenty-four hours.” He lifted his hand as if to ward off her protests and arguments, though, in truth, she was not saying a word, just gazing at him with wide, luminous eyes.

“I can't help it if you're not ready, or if you want more time,” he said harshly. “I've waited long enough.” He turned on his heel, and strode away toward the house, aggressiveness and belligerence in every step.

Brenna settled back on the recliner, still clutching the towel and gazed after him, a loving amusement in her eyes and the deliciously contented smile of a cat who'd just been given the deed to the dairy.

nine

“I'LL BE BACK BEFORE FIVE,” DORIS CHARLES
said worriedly. “You're sure you don't mind taking care of him for a few hours? After all, I had a day off just two days ago. I feel a little guilty taking off again so soon.”

Brenna grinned. “Remember to whom you're speaking. I'm the Cinderella girl who never even dreamed she'd have a nanny for Randy only a month ago. Besides, a trip to the dentist isn't exactly a wild spree. Haven't you ever heard of sick benefits?”

“Well, if you're sure…” Doris said doubtfully, and Brenna briskly assured her that she was quite sure, and with a little more coaxing, Doris Charles was persuaded to leave.

Brenna shook her head ruefully, as she picked Randy up in preparation for a trip to the sandbox in the corner of the patio. Sometimes she thought Doris was a little too dedicated to Randy. That infected wisdom tooth must have been excruciating, yet she had put off having it pulled for almost a day, because she didn't want to leave Randy with his own mother. She would enjoy having Randy to herself again, Brenna thought happily, and Doris would surely be back in time to take Randy over while she dressed for dinner. The note Michael had left her at breakfast had said he'd join her for dinner at eight.

She had not seen Michael since he had left her at the pool yesterday, but Mrs. Haskins had told her this morning that he had gone to the complex to see Mr. Walters. He would probably be closeted with Monty most of the day, and lucky to be home for dinner, she thought anxiously. Then her frown cleared miraculously as she remembered Donovan's lovemaking by the pool yesterday. She had an idea it would take more than a business meeting to keep him from keeping their appointment tonight.

She put Randy down in the sandbox and handed him his pail and shovel. She settled down in a nearby lounge chair with a script that Michael had given her two days ago with a brief comment that the feminine lead had possibilities. She had only gotten through the third scene, but she could already see what he meant. She was soon absorbed in the snappy dialogue of the romantic comedy.

“What a domestic scene. It really touches my paternal heart.” The tone was sarcastic and the voice was that of Paul Chadeaux.

Brenna looked up, shocked, her face paling as she realized it really was Chadeaux standing before her, sartorically perfect in a dark blue lounge suit, his gray eyes ugly.

“What are you doing here? Who let you in?” she asked hoarsely.

Chadeaux sat down on the lounge chair opposite her and answered coolly, “Your housekeeper was very obliging. I explained that I was a friend of yours, and she told me to go right on through to the terrace.”

It was an understandable error, Brenna thought numbly. Chadeaux was well dressed and personable, and Mrs. Haskins was accustomed to a constant flow of guests coming and going in this house.

Chadeaux was gazing critically at the golden-haired baby playing contentedly in the sandbox. “He's a good-looking kid,” he said impersonally. “He has the Chadeaux coloring.”

“Many children are very blond when they are young,” Brenna answered coolly. “Their color frequently darkens as they grow older.”

He shot her a poisonous glance. “You have all the answers, don't you? You and those smart-alec lawyers your husband turned loose on me. It was pretty clever of you to put a noose around Donovan, and get him to do your dirty work.”

Brenna's lips tightened. “We have nothing further to talk about, Paul,” she said tersely. “Please leave.”

Chadeaux smiled nastily. “You think you've won, don't you, little sister? Well, don't count on it,” he said. “Donovan may have enough clout to put a spoke in my wheel, but I'm not about to be beaten by some upstart movie mogul.” His face twisted balefully.

“You have no choice in the matter,” Brenna said, moistening her lips nervously.

“You're wrong. There's always an angle; you just have to find it.” Chadeaux's gray eyes were narrowed and sly. “And I've figured the angle, little sister. It's all very simple.” He rose lazily to his feet. “You and I and junior, over there, are going on a little trip. We're going to a nice private place where the two of us can ‘negotiate.’”

She stared at him incredulously. “We're not going anywhere with you,” she said flatly. “Why should we?”

“Because I'm a desperate man, little sister,” he said venomously. “The men to whom I owe money are not very understanding of custody battles and legal delays. If I don't produce their money by next Tuesday, I'm in big trouble.”

He reached out and grabbed her wrist brutally, jerking her to her feet. “Get the kid. We're leaving right now!”

She struggled futilely in an attempt to break his hold. “You're crazy,” she said furiously. “Do you think you can just drag us out of here? Do you think I won't fight you? All I have to do is call and Mrs. Haskins or one of the servants will be right here.”

Chadeaux's grip tightened agonizingly on her wrist, and she cried out in pain. “But you won't call,” he said menacingly. “Because you have a certain fondness for that sweet little tyke of mine.”

Brenna could feel the blood drain from her face as she stared at him in horror. “What do you mean?” she whispered hoarsely, her eyes wide and frightened.

“Children are very vulnerable,” he said softly, and his gaze traveled significantly to the swimming pool a few yards away.

“My God! What kind of monster are you?” she said, fear making her sick. “He's your own child.”

“I told you I was desperate,” he snarled. “I'm not stupid enough to murder the little brat, but I'm not above making him quite uncomfortable if I have to.” He smiled unpleasantly. “But I'm not going to have to do that, am I, Brenna? You couldn't stand knowing that you're to blame for causing the little angel any pain, could you?”

“No, you mustn't hurt him,” Brenna said sharply. “I'll go with you. Just don't hurt Randy!”

“I thought you'd be reasonable,” he said smugly. “Now, let's get going. My car is parked in the driveway out front. I see there's a path that circles the house. We won't need to go back inside.”

“I need to change,” she said quickly, “and I'll have to get some things for Randy.” If she could see Mrs. Haskins, perhaps she could signal her in some way, she thought desperately.

Chadeaux shook his head. “Do you think I'm stupid?” he asked arrogantly. He casually gazed at her lilac slacks and white sun top. “You're okay as you are, and I can buy anything the kid needs on the way. I'm not about to let you be tempted to make a dumb move, and start shouting for help. Now, get the kid before I lose my temper.” He released her arm with a little shove. “Move!”

Brenna backed slowly away from him, rubbing her bruised
wrist and thinking frantically, trying to see a way out of this horror that would pose no danger to Randy. Chadeaux was a weak, self-indulgent man but in this case he had the desperate viciousness of a cornered rat. She had no doubt that Chadeaux meant what he said when he threatened Randy. She knew from experience how callously cruel he could be.

“Shall I do it myself?” Chadeaux asked with soft menace. “If you force me to, I won't be as gentle with him as you will.”

“No, please,” she said, alarmed. She walked over to the sand-box and lifted the protesting baby, cuddling him protectively.

“Good,” Chadeaux said grimly. “Now, keep on being a smart girl, and we'll get along fine.”

His hand beneath her elbow, he propelled her quickly across the terrace and down the stone walkway that encircled the house.

Brenna searched wildly for some sign of the gardener or Bob, her driver, but neither were in evidence. When they reached the red Buick rental car, she was forced to admit to herself that if she were going to get out of this dangerous predicament, she could not rely on outside help. She must find some way to save Randy herself.

They were a few miles out of Twin Pines, approaching the highway when Brenna made an attempt to reason with Chadeaux for the last time. “You do realize this is kidnapping?” she asked quietly. “You could go to jail for a long time. If you'll just let us go, I promise I'll forget all about it.”

“How generous,” Chadeaux jeered scornfully. “As it happens, I won't need your generosity. After I get what I want, I will let you go and you won't dare go to the police.”

They had reached the highway now and, to her surprise, he didn't turn south toward the California border, but north.

“We're not going to Chadeaux Park?” she asked with some
trepidation. She had been hoping she could appeal to the more reasonable members of the Chadeaux family.

“Randy and I will be going there later,” Chadeaux said. “Right now, we're headed toward Portland. I want to be close to the airport, so that I can get a plane immediately.” He shot her a mocking glance. “After you prove how cooperative you can be.”

Brenna shook her head. “I'll never let you have Randy,” she said quietly.