The Cutting Edge (5 page)

Tessa quivered against him, well aware of his need; pressed against him as she was, she could feel every taut line of his body. She knew that she should say something light, something to make him laugh, to break the mood, but she couldn't seem to think of anything very effective. “Was that what you wanted?” she finally managed, but her voice was so low and whispery with her own need that the words were more of an invitation than the light mockery she'd intended.

“That was part of it,” he said in rasping admission, and began kissing her again. Her senses noticed the roughness of his voice, and she knew the more aroused he became, the lower and rougher his voice was, until he spoke in little more than a growl. She clung to his heavy shoulders, helplessly giving his mouth everything it sought, the freedom and depth and response of her own mouth. He was teaching her the power of physical desire, making her want him in a way she'd never wanted a man before, so deeply and powerfully that it was becoming desperation.

In Brett's experience, the unguarded response she was giving him meant that she was his for the taking. Though his loins were throbbing heavily, his mind was cool as he deliberately put his hand inside the wrap bodice of her dress, cupping the warm silk of her breast in his palm and discovering with delight that the curves of her breasts were lusher than he'd expected, given her almost fragile slenderness. His slightly rough thumb
moved over the velvet nipple, gently turning it into a firm, impudent little nub.

Tessa jerked away from him.

Her instinctive action startled her as much as it did him. She blinked in bewilderment, then stared at him as she wasn't quite certain what had happened. Her eyes were enormous, her face a little pale. “I wasn't expecting that,” she said a little helplessly.

Brett ground his teeth in mingled rage and frustration. His entire body ached; his hands twitched, wanting the sweetness of her flesh beneath his fingers again. “Damn you, I ought to—” he began gutturally, then stopped before he said too much, before his male frustration led him to say things he didn't mean. He meant to see her again, even if tonight wasn't ending the way he'd planned. He'd have her yet, and he also thought he might be able to get more information about her fellow employees from her.

Tessa pressed shaking fingers to her mouth. “I know. I'm sorry,” she said weakly. “I never meant to let things…that is, you startled me when you touched…oh, damn it.”

He looked at her sharply. She was visibly trembling, and something very like fear was in those wide eyes as she stared at him—fear like he'd seen before, during dinner, and he felt a sudden, keen curiosity. No, he had to reassure her, calm her down so she wouldn't refuse to see him again.

He took a deep breath to calm the ragged pace of his breathing, and to bring his voice back to normal. “It happened too fast, didn't it?” he asked quietly.

Tessa brought herself back under control, too. “I'm
not a tease, but I don't sleep around either. I don't believe in casual encounters. We just met today, after all. I didn't mean to let this happen.”

“I understand.” He managed a smile, a brief, grim smile. “Not that I think there would be anything casual about our encounter. We'd probably blow the needle off the Richter scale.”

Tessa had thought herself long past the blushing stage, but the color that rose to her cheeks was from excitement, not embarrassment. He was looking at her in a way that almost scorched her, and the painful part of it was that she still wanted him, too, in just the way he was imagining. Her body had reacted instinctively, independent of her mind and common sense, and her flesh had recognized him immediately as a worthy partner.

“Tomorrow night. Dinner again.”

She couldn't take her eyes from him. “I can't. Sammy Wallace is trying to teach me how to play chess.”

Brett remembered overhearing her make the date in the elevator, and his almost photographic memory dredged up an image of Sammy Wallace: thin and blond and no match at all for this sweet little Southern Delilah.

“All right,” he allowed grimly. “The night after, then. And don't tell me no.”

“I wasn't going to.” Never off stride for long, Tessa felt enough like herself to give him her slow-breaking smile that held him breathless as he watched the beginning curve of her lips and waited for the smile to reach full bloom. “I must have more courage than brains.”

He didn't feel like smiling, but the twinkle in her eyes invited him to share in the laughter at herself. He didn't want to laugh; he wanted to take her to bed, and
the coiled tension in his body told him that he'd have to take a cold shower before he could sleep. “I'll see you Thursday night. Six-thirty?”

“Yes, that's fine.”

He'd turned to the door, but he paused and glanced back at her, his face grim. “This Sammy Wallace, is he special to you?”

“He's a very sweet and very shy man, and he's also a genius. He's teaching me chess.” Why was she explaining herself to him? But from the way he was looking at her, he didn't think that was explanation enough.

“Don't make any more dates with him, or with anyone else except me.”

The possessive order made her eyes widen. “Are you going Neanderthal on me?” she asked suspiciously.

“If I have to. You shouldn't have kissed me the way you did if you didn't want me to lay claim.” Very calmly, he caught her chin in his hand and kissed her, slow and hard. “Remember that.”

When he was gone, Tessa creamed off her makeup and brushed her hair, then pulled on her light nightgown and tumbled into bed. She was a hard sleeper; nothing interfered with her rest, and tonight was no exception. She went immediately to sleep, but her subconscious played the night for her again and again in dreams that didn't stop with the touch of his hand on her body.

* * *

E
VAN'S EYES WERE
tired and red-rimmed from the work he'd been doing at night as well as the bogus work necessary during the day, but his mind was still running at full speed. He was totally caught up in their covert search for the embezzler. “Did you get any useful in
formation from Miss Conway last night?” he asked absently when Brett entered the office.

“I've made notes,” Brett answered, taking a small notebook from his inside coat pocket. The details he'd noted were insignificant, except to himself and Evan. He'd had to be careful in his questioning, since Tessa wasn't a gossip, but he'd gotten a surprising amount of information from her humorous tales.

Evan read the notes, frowning as he added the information to the profiles he was compiling on each employee under suspicion, which was, at that point, virtually everyone.

“What do you have on Sammy Wallace?” Brett asked slowly, frowning at himself for asking the question. He didn't like the possessive jealousy he was feeling; he'd never felt it for any woman before, and he didn't want to feel it now.

Evan's head snapped up. “He's a computer genius,” he said slowly. “He has a system at his apartment that the CIA could use. From what I've found so far, he has to be the prime suspect. What made you ask?”

Brett shrugged, his eyes intent. If Wallace was the prime suspect, he'd make damned sure Tessa didn't have anything else to do with him.

A
LL DAY LONG
, Tessa had looked forward to Sammy's undemanding company as an antidote against the tension that curled in her stomach at just the thought of Brett Rutland, and Brett had occupied her thoughts so much that day that she wondered if she'd made a mess of everything she'd done.

“Aunt Silver, you never warned me about men like him,” she grumbled aloud, as if her aunt were in the room with her instead of almost an entire continent away. “I think I've met the man I could really love, but it's not safe to love him. He's a real heartbreaker. So what now?”

Take it as it comes.

That was exactly what Aunt Silver's answer would be. She was a wonderfully romantic woman, but soundly based in common sense. Silver had probably faced the same dilemma when she met the man who would eventually be her husband. From what she'd heard from both her mother and Silver, Tessa had surmised that her uncle had been as wild as a mink, with charm to burn and an itch for Silver that Silver had been determined he wasn't going to scratch. Their running battle had lasted for almost two years and kept three counties enthralled, wondering who would win. Silver had won, and their marriage had been as temptestuous and as loving as
their courtship. It must run in the family for the women to fall in love with rakes and rascals, she thought.

“I won't fall in love with him!” Tessa said fiercely as she took the stairs up to Sammy's apartment, then admitted to herself that she was whistling in the dark.

When he answered the door, Sammy's face was flushed with excitement and his hair was mussed. “Tessa, just wait until you see the new computer we've put together! It's a real honey.”

Tessa was thoroughly familiar with computers, but only from a user's standpoint. She knew absolutely nothing about microchips or interfacing, and wasn't interested in learning, but she smiled at the enthusiasm on Sammy's face. “Tell me about it,” she invited.

“See for yourself. Hillary's here, too.”

Tessa had never met Hillary before, but Sammy had often talked about her. Hillary lived on the floor above him, and she was as wild about computers as he was. Tessa supposed it was a case of kindred spirits. The young woman she saw seated at the display terminal and practically attacking the keyboard only reinforced that original supposition, for Hillary was as blond as Sammy. Her slim figure was encased in jeans and a jersey, and her long blond hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail. Glasses perched on her small nose as she peered at the monitor.

“Hillary, this is Tessa Conway. I've told you about her; she works with me. Tessa, Hillary Basham.”

Hillary looked up, vague surprise in her brown eyes. “Oh, yes, I remember. How are you?”

“Fine, thank you,” Tessa said gently.

Sammy launched into a spirited explanation of his
new computer, and Hillary was as carried away by it as he was. Tessa listened and nodded, trying to make sense of what they were telling her. They both seemed very excited, and because of that she asked questions, letting them enjoy the moment. Intuitively, she realized that Hillary was so much in love with Sammy that the girl was almost sick with it, but was too shy to let him know. Of course, with Sammy, a woman would have to put up a billboard and point it out to him to get him to notice it, and even then it might be a week before he realized he was the man involved. He was so deeply involved with his computer that everything else passed him by.

She didn't get her chess lesson that night; Sammy was so high from whatever great strides he'd made in the computer industry that there was no question of settling him down. He and Hillary played with the computer as if it were human, and they devoted over an hour to the naming of it before they finally settled on Nelda. Tessa groaned when she heard the name, and Sammy looked hurt, since it had been his idea. Hillary jumped in immediately in favor of Sammy's choice, and Nelda it was. Shaking her head, Tessa looked around at all of the equipment that Sammy had in his apartment. He must sink most of his salary into his hobby, she thought. In fact, she wondered how he even had money left to eat on.

Sammy wasn't a complete social wasteland; he eventually realized that he was hungry, and evidently recalled the manners his mother had tried for years to drill into him. Blushing, he jumped to his feet and offered to fix sandwiches and cold drinks, and refused
Hillary's quick offer to help. He rushed out of the room and left a pool of silence behind him.

Tessa looked at Hillary's downcast eyes and saw the way the girl had suddenly withdrawn. “Where do you work?” she asked, since it was evident that Hillary wasn't going to begin the conversation.

“At a bank.” Hillary gave her a shy look, then quickly looked down again. “Sammy talks about you a lot. You're…you're as beautiful as he says.”

Tessa wondered if she'd gone too far in her friendship with Sammy, trying to make him more comfortable in female company. “That's sweet of him, but I'm not beautiful at all,” she said honestly, and that brought up the bent blond head. “It's just that he's shy with women, and I talk to him and make him laugh. He talks about you a lot, too.”

“Yeah, but that's different. I'm a buddy, someone to talk computers with.” For a brief moment, hostility was plain in her brown eyes.

“Then talk about something else when you're with him.” The last thing she wanted was to get involved in some sort of triangle, especially when the man in question couldn't see the forest for the trees.

“That's easy for you, but not everyone's a…a flirt like you!” As soon as she flared up, hot color rushed into Hillary's rather pale face and made it rosy. She looked down again, as if appalled at her rudeness, and Tessa sighed.

“Hillary, I'm not a threat to you. Please believe me. Sammy's just a friend to me, nothing else.”

“But what about the way he feels about you?”

“He's definitely not in love with me; I promise!”
Before she could say anything else to reassure the girl, Sammy came back into the room with a tray of drinks. He carefully set it down away from his equipment.

“I'll be right back with the sandwiches.”

“I'll help!” Scrambling to her feet, Hillary hurried after him.

Feeling definitely
de trop,
Tessa called after them, “Just one sandwich for me; I have to be leaving soon.”

When they came back into the room, Sammy frowned at her. “But we haven't played chess yet.”

“It's later than I thought, and tomorrow is a working day,” she reminded him.