Twist of Fate (27 page)

“You've got something to lose, too. But I don't suppose you're interested in hearing about it. I sure as hell wasn't when I was your age.” Gideon turned and started back up the sidewalk to Hannah's apartment building. He could feel Ballantine's eyes on his back.

 

H
ANNAH SAT STARING
at the page of her aunt's journal she was trying to read. She'd put away the groceries, no longer interested in fixing dinner. She'd considered substituting a strong drink for the artichokes and clams she'd planned on sharing with Gideon but even that hadn't sounded appealing. The apartment felt cold although she knew the heat was set high enough. She rubbed her upper arms with her palms and wondered where Gideon had gone with Ballantine.

She had been right to send both of them away. She wanted nothing to do with the self-destructive battle they were fighting. Gideon had chosen his own path and as far as Hannah was concerned he was free to go to hell in his own way.

She would not judge him. He was a powerful man who had forged a place for himself in a rough world. He had known what he was doing and he'd been willing to pay the price. But she would not let him involve her. She must not let him involve her.

Hannah remembered the cold way the two men had eyed each other in her apartment. She had known then that she wasn't really important to either of them except in whatever way each could use her. As far as Hugh Ballantine was concerned, it didn't matter. But when it came to being unimportant to Gideon, things were different. But they shouldn't be different.

The words on the page in front of her blurred slightly. Hannah struggled to concentrate. Her aunt had walked away from “Dear Roddy” without a qualm. Now she was in the middle of the landmark study of her career. Even at the time Elizabeth Nord had realized she was on to something very significant. Her excitement echoed down through the years, captured for her niece in the pages of the journal.

She shouldn't be worrying about Gideon, Hannah told herself fiercely. What happened to him was no concern of hers. She must learn to put her natural empathy and compassion aside. She must endeavor to become more like her aunt. Elizabeth Nord had not needed anyone by the time she left Revelation Island. She was a complete individual, secure in her work, her philosophy, and her own company. Nord had been worthy of the necklace she'd inherited. Hannah touched the dull stone around her neck. Elizabeth Nord had not wasted her time worrying about the fate of others.

The knock on the door caused Hannah to flinch. She hadn't been expecting it. Slowly, with a feeling of inevitability, she got up from her chair and went to answer the summons. She opened the door to find Gideon in the hall, his jacket still hooked over his shoulder. Something in his eyes made her want to forget all the lectures she had been giving herself and take him into her arms. It cost her, but Hannah managed to resist.

“Well? Any blood on the street outside?” she asked.

“No.”

“Good. It might have ruined my reputation with the neighbors if word got around that I entertain hoods.”

He stepped through the door and dropped his jacket on a chair. “Hood, singular. You don't entertain Ballantine.”

“Where is he? What did you do with him?” She closed the door and stood with her back to it, her hands gripping the knob for support.

“I didn't do anything with him. As far as I know he's still standing down there on the sidewalk.”

“Did the two of you trade a lot of macho insults?”

Gideon looked at her, his eyes unfathomable. “Not exactly. Not any more macho than the insults you traded with Vicky Armitage this morning.”

Hannah's head lifted in shock. “That's an entirely different kind of thing.”

“Is it?”

“Of course it is. What are you going to do now, Gideon?”

“Have dinner and go to bed.”

“Don't sound so damn casual about it,” she stormed. “I told you and Ballantine earlier that I won't be used by either of you. I meant it.”

“I need you, Hannah. If you think that means I'm using you, so be it. I'm not in the mood to argue with either you or Ballantine this evening. I think I'm becoming a pacifist.”

“Pacifist, my foot. It isn't in you to be a pacifist.”

“I read a page in your aunt's journal this morning that said something about everybody having the capacity for the whole range of human emotions, drives, and motivations. It's a matter of circumstances and the norms of whatever society a person is born into that determines the way he develops. The implication is that a man can change.”

“You want me to believe you're changing?”

“Right now I don't really care what you believe. I need a drink.”

“What about me?” she whispered.

“I also need you.”

She watched him walk into the kitchen. A moment later a cupboard door clanged and then there was the sound of liquor being poured over ice. He needed a drink and he needed her. For tonight at any rate. What had been said between Gideon and Ballantine out there on the sidewalk?

She was a fool to let Gideon stay, Hannah told herself. If she had any sense at all she would kick him out. He was a disruption in her life that she simply didn't need right now. But there had been a look in his eyes when he'd come through her door a few moments ago, a look that forced her to acknowledge she was still vulnerable.

She was a long way from reaching the lofty, unemotional peak of inner certainty that Elizabeth Nord had reached, Hannah decided as she trailed slowly toward the kitchen. She wasn't even up to the standards of the women who had run things on Revelation Island.

Hannah grimaced, wondering how long it would take to throw off her chains and become an Amazon.

“G
IDEON
,
WHAT HAPPENED
out there?” Standing in the kitchen doorway with her arms folded and her eyes shadowed, Hannah watched him finish splashing a healthy dose of Scotch into a glass.

“Nothing of any earthshaking significance. You want some?” he held up the bottle.

“No thanks. What did you say to him?”

Gideon leaned back against the counter and took a long swallow. “I told him he could have Surbrook.”

Hannah gazed at him in amazement. “That company you're both squabbling over? You told him he could have it? Just like that?”

“Yeah.”

“And he didn't believe you.” It wasn't a question.

“I don't think it was a case of him not believing me,” Gideon said thoughtfully. “I think he didn't
want
to believe me.”

“There are times, Gideon, when you're rather perceptive for a shark. I think I'll have a drink after all.” She watched as he turned back to the counter to pour her one. “What did he say?”

“That I was lying. He assumed I was up to something.”

“Your track record in that department is fairly impressive.”

He swung around, her glass in his hand. As he shoved it into her fingers, Gideon's expression tightened with leashed anger. “I don't lie.”

Nervously Hannah swirled the Scotch in her glass. “I didn't mean you had an impressive track record when it comes to lying. I meant you have one in the area of being up to something. I've had first-hand experience of how you can mislead someone when it suits your purposes, Gideon.”

“Come off it, Hannah. You're the one who resorted to cheating that first night. You can hardly blame me for not spilling my guts about my plans for your brother's firm.”

“Let's just say you're very good at not telegraphing your moves. So why should Hugh Ballantine think you're being particularly straightforward with him?”

“No reason.” Gideon took another swallow of the Scotch. “I made the mistake of trying to explain some things to him.”

“What things?”

“Just small stuff. I took a shot at telling him how I'd felt about his father. Why I'd done what I did to Cyrus.”

Hannah bit her lip to conceal the wave of compassion that washed through her. Poor Gideon. He really had gone out on a limb. “You told him Cyrus Ballantine had been a father figure to you?”

“Christ. You said something like that once before. Is it that obvious?”

“No. But I've known you for several weeks now, Gideon. I've heard you talk about Cyrus and I've seen what the need for revenge did to you. It takes a very powerful motive to put a man on the track you've been on for the past nine years. It makes sense that the reason you hated Cyrus Ballantine so completely was that he had betrayed you on a personal level as well as a business level.”

Gideon's mouth hardened. “There are some serious disadvantages to sleeping with a guidance counselor. A little knowledge of psychology is a dangerous thing.”

“Just be grateful I'm not a psychiatrist. A real shrink would have a field day analyzing you. And you're not sleeping with me. Not currently.”

His eyes met hers. “Aren't I?”

She took a slow, steadying breath. “Did you really try to give Surbrook to Ballantine?”

“I tried.”

“I could have told you it wasn't going to be quite that easy.”

“Lately, nothing,” Gideon said, “has been easy.”

“If it's any consolation, I'm sure you've shaken him to the core. That would be the one move he wouldn't expect from you. He'll go crazy trying to figure out what you're up to now.”

“I don't want to waste time playing games with Hugh Ballantine. As far as I'm concerned, he's had his chance.”

“I see.” Hannah tried a sip of the Scotch. “You made one attempt to end the war and if that doesn't work, the hell with it, right?”

“I've made one more attempt than you've made.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“You haven't made any effort to end the friction between yourself and Vicky Armitage.”

Angry color stained Hannah's cheeks. “That's different.”

Gideon smiled grimly. “You sound like a little kid defending herself for getting into a fight with another little girl.”

“You don't know what you're talking about.” Hannah moved abruptly away, stalking back out into the living room to stand in front of the window that opened onto her postage-stamp-size balcony.

“Hannah, when it comes to waging war, I'm an expert. I'm learning that it's not so easy to call off a battle once it's started. But the one person I don't want to fight with this evening is you.” He came up behind her and turned her slowly around to face him. “I want you. I've been wanting you since the moment I met you, and a few days on that damn island only made the wanting worse. Is it absolutely necessary for you to fight me tonight? Couldn't we have another truce like the one we had on Santa Inez? I need a little peace and comfort.”

She trembled under his hand and looked up at him through her lashes. The taut strain in him was etched around his eyes, making her want to lift her fingers to soothe away the lines. She was too soft where this man was concerned. He didn't need her softness. But he would take it, soaking it up like a sponge. Hannah was not at all sure he could ever learn to give it back except in isolated moments of passion.

“Gideon, what is it you really want from me? Just a little peace and comfort?”

“You make those things sound as if they're not very important. But they are important, Hannah. I've only recently started realizing just how much I crave them.” He bent his head and brushed his mouth across hers. “I can't seem to get enough.”

“And what do I get in return?”

His fingers tightened in her hair. “I don't know. What
do
you get in return? You keep responding to me, so you must be getting something.” He kissed her again, his lips moving deliberately on hers, seeking some sign of her own need. “Let me take you to bed, Hannah. I need you.”

She felt the glass being removed from her hand, heard it clink lightly as it was set down on the table next to Gideon's. Then his arms were around her, tugging her against him. With a soft sigh she let the need in him envelop her. In that moment she couldn't completely analyze the reasons for her own response, but she knew she wanted him. She could accept that. A woman had a right to physical gratification. She just wished she didn't also long to offer the comfort he said he craved.

“Ah, Hannah, you're so sweet. So soft. I've been wanting you so damn much.” His fingers twisted deeply in her hair, holding her face still for his deepening kiss. When Hannah lifted her hands to his shoulders and parted her lips he groaned, moving into her mouth with a hunger that could no longer be concealed or denied.

Hannah gave herself up to the heavy, seductive warmth Gideon was offering. She had been missing his touch, even while she had told herself she must live without it. But tonight everything was as it had been on the island. He needed her and she needed him. What did she get out of it? Not as much as she wanted, but more than she'd ever had with any other man. Perhaps she wasn't as strong as she should be yet. Or perhaps she was stronger than she had thought.

He pulled her gently down onto the sofa, pushing her beneath him as he lowered himself. Gideon's fingers fumbled slightly as they found the fastenings of her clothing. There was an urgency in him that communicated itself to Hannah, making her want to give him what he needed. She found the buckle of his belt and undid it.

“Yes, honey. Yes, please,” he muttered in her ear. His hands moved on her, stripping the clothes from her body in quick, impatient movements.

His own clothing came off in a similar fashion, winding up in a heap on the floor beside the sofa. Gideon's mouth claimed Hannah's as he sprawled on her. She was vividly aware of the masculine strength in him as his knee came between her thighs. Her nails sank into his shoulders as he let her feel the waiting need in his lower body. She knew her own body was already dampening in anticipation. When Gideon's thumb moved over one nipple he found the peak hard and excited. His fingers explored lower, discovering the ready response between her legs.

He didn't hesitate. Her name was a thick groan against her mouth as he guided himself to the waiting entrance and then surged forward. When she gasped at the deep intrusion into her body he swallowed the small sound.

“Wrap yourself around me. I want to feel you holding me the way you did when we were on Santa Inez. Take me, Hannah.”

She obeyed with an eagerness that knew no bounds. The driving force of his body against her own was a primitive summons that called forth the response he wanted. Hannah was on fire with the consuming need to satisfy and be satisfied. She tightened her legs around his lean hips. There was perspiration across his back; she could feel it under her palms. There was more moisture on her skin between her breasts.

There was nothing of sensual subtlety or erotic skill in this coming together. It was an urgent coupling, a quick, flaming search for physical union and release. The lack of finesse did nothing to lessen the powerful impact. Hannah heard Gideon biting off her name as his body shuddered and locked into hers. She tightened around him as she followed him over the edge. For an instant they both hung suspended in the throes of the climax and then Gideon sagged along the length of Hannah's body, his weight crushing her deeply into the sofa cushions. She traced a small pattern on his shoulder, her mind blessedly unconnected with everything around her except the man whose body was still joined with hers.

“This sofa,” Gideon finally mumbled, “is going to be the end of me.” But he made no attempt to shift his position.

“You seem to be surviving.”

“I'm capable of putting up a valiant struggle when the need arises.”

She smiled. “So I see.”

He lifted his head to look down at her. There was a directness in his gaze that belied the lethargy in his body. “Hannah, come back to Tucson with me.”

The request took her totally by surprise. It had been the last thing Hannah had been expecting. Floundering, she said the first word that came into her head. “Why?”

“Isn't it obvious?”

“You mean,” she asked carefully, “that you want the affair to continue and it would be simpler for you if I came to Tucson.”

“Much simpler.”

Her head moved uneasily on the flowered cushion. She couldn't seem to think straight. “I'm not sure it would be simpler for me, Gideon.”

“You don't go back to work at the college until fall. That gives us all of August and part of September. There's no reason we can't spend that time together.”

“This is my home.”

“You could learn to be at home in Tucson. You could spend the rest of the summer sitting out by the pool working on your book. Come with me, Hannah. I want you with me.”

“To use as a sounding board while you go through the rest of your mid-life crisis?”

He lifted himself away from her with an abrupt movement. Sitting up on the edge of the couch he looked back at her. “Why do you always have to question everything I say or do? Why can't you just accept that we have something good together?”

“I've told you, Gideon, that I'm not sure I'm strong enough to handle you yet.” She wasn't at all certain she could spend the summer with him and then blithely return to work in the fall. Hannah felt the tightening in her stomach as she contemplated trying to extend the affair. Fear and anger and resentment were at war within her, battling the need and the fierce attraction she felt for this man.

“You're only using that as an excuse. Why are you trying to fight me, Hannah?”

“Because if I don't protect myself from you, no one else will,” she said simply.

He reached out to touch the tip of her breast, his fingers lazy and possessive. “Just relax, Hannah, and let it all happen. This isn't a war you have to wage with me. It doesn't have to be like that.”

She moved, struggling to a sitting position beside him. Awkwardly she scooped up her jeans and shirt, holding them clutched in front of her. “Have you really thought this through, Gideon? Or is it just something you've decided you want on the spur of the moment?”

“I know I want you with me.”

“I'd probably spend the rest of the summer giving you advice on how to run your business. You wouldn't enjoy it.”

His mouth lifted in a slight smile. “I can find ways to shut you up when I get tired of hearing the advice.”

“I don't think it's a good idea for either of us, Gideon,” she said very seriously.

“You mean you're unsure of yourself. You're afraid of me.”

“No, I am not afraid of you,” she snapped, “but, yes, I'm unsure of myself. I have some decisions to make this summer. I don't think I can make them with you in the vicinity.”