The Cutting Edge (7 page)

They stood entwined, their mouths greedy and clinging, until Tessa felt light-headed from lack of air and pulled her mouth free; then she bent her head and rested it against his shoulder. The want, the need, that vibrated between them was staggering, and from the pressure of his body she knew that he was strongly aroused, yet he seemed to be waiting for a signal from her. She couldn't give it to him; the act of physical love was an act of commitment for her, and she wasn't certain enough of
her feelings on the basis of two meetings to let him have that intimacy. Gently he rubbed the back of her neck, easing the tension in the taut tendons he found there.

“Let's go to bed,” he murmured, kissing her temple and the shell of her ear, outlining the rim of her ear with the very tip of his tongue and setting off small ripples of pleasure that flowed over her body. “I know you think it's too soon, but waiting won't change anything. I'm going to have you, and we both know it.”

She closed her eyes in an agony of wanting and indecision. He was so warm and strong, and she wanted him so much that she was nothing but an empty ache inside. “I'm afraid I'm going to fall in love with you,” she blurted, her voice muffled against his shoulder, and she knew that she lied. She was afraid, yes, because it was far too late for her; she was already so much in love with him that she couldn't pull back now, and no lecture from her common sense was going to change it. She'd been waiting for him all of her life. She could no more halt the tide of her emotions than she could stop breathing.

Brett went very still. Even the hand on the nape of her neck ceased its motion. Love, in the romantic sense, wasn't something that existed for him, and it wasn't something that he wanted. Until she'd said the word, the idea hadn't even occurred to him. He'd taken her out to dinner the first time for a twofold reason: because he wanted to take her to bed, and to question her about the other employees at Carter Engineering. His physical desire had increased until the heat of it seared him, until he couldn't sleep and tossed restlessly on the twisted sheets, his body taut and frustrated. She intrigued him
as no other woman had ever done; she was both bold and wary, inviting and resisting at the same time. For the first time in his life, he resented the thought of other men. He didn't want her associating with Sammy Wallace for a reason quite apart from the fact that the man was a suspected embezzler. He wanted all her time to be his, all her kisses to be his, and a primitive possessiveness ate at him. When he thought of the two men she'd been engaged to, he wanted to shake her for allowing them to get close enough to her that she'd even considered marriage.

But he didn't want the entanglements of emotion. Love was greedy and demanding, and he didn't want that sort of emotional intimacy. His mind was always a little aloof, always in control, and he wanted to stay that way; he'd seen too many men make complete fools out of themselves, all in the name of some confused emotional high that they called love.

Already Tessa was intruding into his thoughts, when he should have his mind strictly on business. The image of her sleek, silky body stretched out on white sheets, waiting for him, was one that burned in his mind at all hours, entering his thoughts when he least expected it. She was distracting him from the clandestine cat-and-mouse game he and Evan were playing with a thief, and he wanted to take her, satiate himself with her, so he could put her out of his thoughts and get on with the job at hand.

The thought of her falling in love with him jolted him. What would it be like to have this fancy, flirty woman belonging to him? Could she love, or was she just playing with the word? Had she really loved either
of those men she'd been engaged to? What had she said about the one who had been cheating on her? That she didn't love him enough to forgive him? Perhaps it was all just a game to her, to lure a man deeper and deeper into the trap of her charm. But at the same time, the idea tantalized him, much like the subtle perfume she wore that drifted to his nose every so often, then faded elusively.

Tessa correctly read his stillness, and she fiercely blinked back the sudden scalding of tears, taking care to keep her head buried against his shoulder. “Why don't we call a halt to this now?” she whispered. “I don't know if I can keep it under control on my part, and I'd rather walk away from it before I get hurt.” More lightly, she said, “We could always remember each other as the one that got away.”

He put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her a little away from him so he could see her face, and a frown laced his brows. “No,” he said curtly, not wanting to examine too closely his reason for rejecting her suggestion, but there was no way he was going to let her walk away from him. Her laughter would echo in his mind for the rest of his life, and he'd feel the ache of unsatisfied desire.

“Please.” Her eyes were very clear and direct. “I told you, I don't sleep around. I don't have casual affairs. I have a lot to give a man; I'm more than just someone for fun and games, and I expect a lot from a man. If you aren't willing to give it, then let me go free.”

“What do you expect from a man?” he asked roughly, drawing her closer to him once again, because he couldn't tolerate the distance between them.

“Friendship. Passion. Faith and trust and fidelity.” She moved her head in a quick motion. “Love.”

“I'm too old to believe in fairy tales, baby. Love is just a word that people throw around as an excuse for making fools of themselves.” His hard hands hurt her shoulders. “I want you, and you want me. Let that be enough.”

She shook her head again, but before she could say anything he bent his head and kissed her, slow and hard and deep, and again she was helpless against the black magic he practiced on her flesh. His hands moved over her body, touching her breasts and hips and thighs, as if branding her with his touch. When he pulled away, his face was full of dark color and his eyes were burning. “Think about that tonight. I'll pick you up tomorrow night at seven.”

“There's no point in it,” she said weakly, but she doubted that he heard her. He was already going out the door, and she stood there in the middle of the floor for a long time, her head bent, her eyes closed. He wasn't going to let her play it safe, and she wondered if she'd be able to survive another failed relationship.

She was torn between the instinctive need to protect herself and the needs of her deeply passionate heart, which told her to reach out and grab him, to twine herself about him so tightly that he'd never be able to get her out of his heart or mind. She had no chance at all if she was too cowardly to take one. Love gave, instead of demanded, and she wanted to give herself to him. Perhaps his mind didn't recognize love, but his body would. She was afraid…but it was too late for fear.

* * *

E
VAN RUBBED HIS
eyes tiredly, then returned to the stack of computer printout sheets before him. “I'm so tired, none of this is making any sense,” he muttered.

Brett checked his watch; it was a little after midnight. He'd welcomed the intense concentration required by their investigation; it took his mind off his frustration, off his empty bed. But he was tired, too, and he had the nagging feeling that he'd been missing something, something that he'd have seen if he hadn't been so tired, if a part of his mind hadn't still been on Tessa. Damn her, why couldn't he stop thinking about her? She was just another woman, despite her laughing eyes and searing kisses. “We're missing something,” he muttered. “Something is right here under our noses, and we're passing over it.”

“A 747 could be under my nose right now and I'd have a hard time seeing it,” Evan yawned, tossing his pencil down. “This guy has to be a real genius. Why don't you just offer him a bonus if he'll tell us how he's doing it?”

“You're pretty sure it's Wallace?” Brett asked, slanting Evan a quick, hard look.

“It's someone who knows how to play hardball with a computer, that's for sure.”

“Tessa told me that he has a fortune in electronics in his apartment. He knows all the access codes; he can get into our computers any time he wants.”

“I checked the guard's records, and he works late a lot of nights, but damn it, I can't find anything!” Evan said fiercely.

“It's here; we just haven't matched everything up yet.” Brett got to his feet, moving restlessly around the
hotel room. Damn, but he was getting tired of hotels, of living out of a suitcase. He wanted the crisp, clean air of the mountains, the wood-smoke smell of a roaring fireplace, the surging power of a horse beneath him. He moved his broad shoulders as if flexing against invisible chains, and the irritation of the job ate at him.

Evans rose, too, and stretched his tired muscles. “I'm calling it quits for the night. The weekend is ahead of us. I can do a lot more work then, when I don't have to spend the day pretending to study systems and options. I'm making a quick trip back to San Francisco in the morning, but I'll be back by Saturday morning at the latest. Do you need anything from the office?”

“No,” Brett said absently, staring out the window at the sea of lights that stretched as far as he could see. Like New York, Los Angeles never slept. On the ranch, when night came, the livestock bedded down and so did the people.

After Evan had gone to his own room, Brett still stood at the window, but he no longer saw the lights. His body felt the pressure of her soft flesh against him, and his jaw tightened. He wanted her. He didn't even have to think her name; all other women became faceless, without identity, even sexless, when compared with her.

He gave the hotel bed a disgusted look, knowing that he wouldn't be able to sleep when he did finally lie down in it. His bed at the ranch was big and wide, and suddenly he pictured her in it, her soft dark hair spread across his pillow while she slept quietly, with the quilts pulled up over her bare shoulders to protect her from the frosty bite of the early spring morning. He shook his head to dislodge the picture, but it remained
with him, and another disturbing image joined it: that of long winter nights, of making love to her in that bed, and knowing that the next night he'd have her again.

He scowled. He wasn't going to let her get to him like that. He'd take her and then forget about her, because in the taking he'd find that she was just like all the other women he'd had and then forgotten.

T
ESSA WAS ALWAYS
at her desk a little early, and today Sammy brought in a cup of coffee for her before it was time to start work. “I couldn't remember if you took cream and sugar or not, so I brought both,” he said, flushing a little as he dug in his pockets and produced two packets of sugar and a small plastic container of nondairy creamer, with a peel-off top.

She took the coffee gratefully; after lying awake half the night, she'd overslept a little and had missed her usual leisurely breakfast. She felt more than a little bruised, and only the assurance of her mirror had given her the courage to face the day. She looked normal, except for faint circles under her eyes, but she didn't feel normal. “You may have saved my life,” she sighed. “Thanks, Sammy. I missed breakfast this morning.”

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “We've been working on Nelda practically all night. Hillary's really great, isn't she? I don't have to explain things to her; she already knows.”

“She's perfect for you,” Tessa said firmly. It went right over his head.

“I'd still be putting Nelda together if Hillary hadn't been helping me. She has some contacts who might be able to help us with marketing Nelda, too; she meets all sorts in the bank.”

“She's a wonderful girl. Very pretty, too.”

He looked a little surprised. “Well, yeah, but the best thing about her is that she's so smart. She wrote the program for Nelda.”

Tessa gave up; she'd done everything but propose to him for Hillary. She doubted that any woman held the same degree of fascination for him as Nelda did, but that was Hillary's problem. Right now, Tessa felt that she had a large problem of her own to worry about, and that problem was about six-four with indigo eyes. Hadn't she known from the start that Brett Rutland was more than she could handle?

She caught a movement just past Sammy's shoulder, and she looked up, feeling her heart skip a beat as she met Brett's narrowed eyes. He gave Sammy a hard look, then turned that look on her. “Good morning,” he said, but Tessa heard the anger under the cool tones.

“Good morning,” she returned evenly. “Mr. Rutland, this is Sammy Wallace, from data processing. Sammy, Brett Rutland.”

Sammy thrust out his hand with a quick, awkward movement, and his face lit with eagerness. “Nice to meet you!”

With impeccable control, Brett shook hands. “I've heard a lot about you, Mr. Wallace. You're something of a genius with computers, aren't you?”

Sammy glowed. Before he could say anything, however, Perry Smitherman came rushing over, having spotted Brett. He practically skidded to a stop when he reached them. “Mr. Rutland!” Perry cried with a pleasure so obviously feigned that Tessa winced for him. “May I help you with something, sir?”

“Yes,” Brett said curtly. “I'd like to speak with you privately, and I thought I'd stop by on my way up to the office. There's some information I'd like you to get for me.”

“Yes, of course, of course,” Perry babbled. “Right this way—my office—”

With a nod to both Tessa and Sammy, Brett went into Perry's office, with Perry skittering around him like a nervous poodle.

“Can you believe that?” Sammy asked incredulously. “He's actually
heard
of me.” He was beaming with pleasure, his eyes sparkling behind the lenses of his glasses.

Tessa sat very still, but Sammy didn't notice her lack of response; he was too bemused and too pleased to notice anything. It was time for him to be on the job, so he ambled out as casually as he'd ambled in. Tessa turned on her video screen but sat staring at the blinking cursor without really seeing it. Brett had been as controlled as usual, but she was acutely sensitive to his mood, and she'd felt the seething anger beneath his calm exterior. Had something happened this morning to put him in a bad mood, or was he angry because he'd walked in and found her talking with Sammy? He'd expressly ordered her not to see Sammy after working hours, but this was on the job; surely he didn't expect her to go out of her way to avoid the people she worked with? It was ridiculous even to think that he might be jealous of Sammy. Sammy wasn't even in the same class with Brett, and Brett had to know it. She'd also told him that Sammy was just a friend, but he'd been glaring at Sammy as if he'd like to take a swing at him, and poor Sammy wouldn't even have an inkling of what was going on.