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His frown pulled even tighter as he bent down and examined the bruise as thoroughly as he would check the books. “Painful,” he finally pronounced. “Do you need to go home?”
Tessa concealed her startled laughter. “No, I’m able to work,” she assured him demurely. Perry was a fussbudget, but he was kindhearted enough, and she liked him, for all his fussy ways.
“Did you go to the infirmary?”
“No. Mr. Rutland took me up to his office and put this compress on it—”
“Brett Rutland?” Perry asked sharply.
“Yes, he was in the elevator—”
His high, white forehead began to glisten with sweat. “Did he ask you anything about the department? Did he say anything about going over the books?”
Anxiety was evident in his face and his raised voice. Soothingly, Tessa said, “Not a word. He simply got the ice from his bar and wrapped it in the towel.”
“Are you certain? He never does anything without a reason. He can be subtle, when it suits him. I’m sure he’s going to go over everything; but he’ll ask around first, and try to find out if we’re slack or careless in any way.”
“You don’t have anything to worry about; the department is in good shape, and you’re a very competent manager.”
“You never know,” he said, wringing his hands. “You never know.”
He was determined to think the worst, and with a sigh Tessa gave up the effort of cheering him; he was probably happier looking for a dark lining in a silver cloud anyway. Some people simply had a melancholy outlook, and Perry was one of them.
Billie popped in during the mid-afternoon break to check on Tessa. The other woman was full of curiosity about Brett Rutland, her big brown eyes even rounder than usual as she stared at Tessa and shot questions at her faster than they could be answered. “What did he say? How long did he keep you? Were you scared? My gosh, of all the people who could have been in that elevator! Did he say why he’s here?”
Tessa picked out one question and ignored the others. “Why should I have been scared? I didn’t know who he was.”
Billie gaped. “You didn’t know Brett Rutland?”
“I knew the name, but I’d never seen him, so how could I have known him?”
Looking impatient with such logic, Billie still tried to pry more information out of Tessa, who could be infuriatingly hard to pin down when she wanted to be. “What did you say? What did he say?”
“Among other things, he told me to sit down while he got a towel,” Tessa murmured. She wasn’t going to tell Billie that he’d asked her out to dinner; just the thought of going out with him affected her nerves, jarring her out of her usual lazy contentment and making her feel jittery, and both afraid and excited at the same time. She was still tingling from the sizzling electricity of his masculinity.
Aunt Silver would adore him.
Just the thought of her aunt made Tessa smile, because Silver was the warmest, liveliest, most lovable woman in existence, and if there was anything Silver appreciated, it was an exciting man. “Sugar,” Silver had told her more than once, “if I ever stop man watching, you’ll know to bury me, because that’s a sure sign that I’m dead.” Since Silver was prospering with her small, exclusive doll shop in Gatlinburg, Tessa was certain that her aunt was still happily man watching, too.
“You’re smiling,” Billie accused. “Teresa Conway! Don’t you dare try flirting with that man! I know that look in your eyes; have you been batting your eyelashes at him?”
“With my face looking as if I’d just gone ten rounds with a heavyweight boxer?” Tessa asked in a mild voice.
“Would you let a little thing like that stop you?”
“I promise, I haven’t been flirting with Mr. Rutland.” Her eyes twinkled; evidently Mr. Rutland didn’t wait for a woman to flirt with him before he made his move. “I hope not! He’s been known to tear strips of flesh off people who have looked at him wrong.”
Several things about Brett Rutland alarmed Tessa, but not the fear that he’d tear strips of flesh off her. No, what he’d do to her flesh wouldn’t be painful at all, and that inner certainty was probably the most alarming thing she felt about him. Whenever a woman looked at a man and knew, instinctively and without doubt, that he would be able to give her exquisite pleasure, her defenses against that man were dangerously weakened. Tessa didn’t want her defenses to be weakened; she’d been hurt badly, not once but twice. Later, after time had completely healed all her emotional wounds, she wanted to try love again. But not now, she thought despairingly. I’m not ready now.
She managed to assure Billie that she hadn’t done anything shocking that could cost her her job. Billie was an uneasy mixture of laid-back California casualness and a surprising streak of prudery that was frequently shocked by Tessa’s flirtatiousness. Because she was also a loyal friend, Tessa looked out for Billie in subtle ways that no one had ever realized, though many thought that Billie had guided Tessa through the mazes and pitfalls of life in Southern California, where the normal flow of traffic was practically a death sentence for a young woman used to using a much more leisurely pace in getting from one place to another. Since Tessa had become Billie’s friend, Billie’s clothes had become simpler, more classic in style, and more suited to her short, rather rounded figure. Billie’s hairstyle now flattered her face, her makeup accentuated her large brown eyes and camouflaged her rather sallow complexion. Before, Billie’s taste in jewelry had run to heavy, clunky pieces in neon colors that had tended to make her look like a midget in the circus. Now she wore smaller pieces, well coordinated with her clothing. Billie’s social life had picked up considerably in the last year, but she never wondered why. Tessa knew why, and the knowledge filled her with quiet satisfaction. She’d been lucky; she’d had Aunt Silver to guide her in her confusing teenage days, to teach her how to dress and use makeup; not many girls were so lucky. Spreading around a little of Aunt Silver’s knowledge was the least she could do.
She’d have to remember to write to Aunt Silver about Brett Rutland; her aunt would definitely enjoy hearing about a man with navy blue eyes and a mouth that made a woman go a little crazy.
* * *
BRETT LEANED BACK in his chair, his eyes narrowed as he flipped through the scanty information in Tessa’s personnel file. There wasn’t a lot in there: She’d never been arrested, never been married and had no identifying scars or birthmarks. Her supervisor, Perry Smitherman, had given her a good evaluation, but Brett thought cynically that any normal man would find it difficult to say anything unfavorable about Tessa, even an old-maid type like Perry Smitherman.
He tossed the file onto his desk; its contents were useless. He’d find out more about her tonight.
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_42a47ec4-3c1b-5142-9a3c-f064f76778e0)
TESSA LEANED CLOSER to the mirror and examined her discolored, swollen cheekbone, then frowned. Her normal makeup hadn’t covered the bruise as well as she’d hoped; she carefully applied a concealer, and blended it until she was satisfied that the bruise was hardly noticeable.
She’d gotten caught in the snarled traffic, and as a result had only arrived home a mere half an hour before, but the situation was well in hand. She’d plugged in her hot rollers, then stripped and taken a fast shower and washed her hair. By the time she’d blown her hair dry, the rollers were hot, and she’d set a few of them in her hair for lift and control. Makeup had taken an additional ten minutes. Now she took the rollers from her hair and deftly brushed it into a casually sophisticated style that swirled about her shoulders. A glance at the clock told her that she had twelve minutes left, ample time to get dressed.
Tessa disliked hurrying, but she seldom had to hurry, because she had everything organized. Organization was insurance against haste. She knew where everything was, and had her routine well planned; if circumstances conspired against her and she was thrown off schedule, she would hurry, if work were involved, but she never hurried for personal reasons. Oddly, she was almost never late, as if the little gremlins who disrupted schedules realized that they wouldn’t get any satisfaction from watching her dash around madly, so they seldom bothered with her. At least, that was the explanation she’d worked out in her mind, and it suited her as well as any other.
She sprayed herself lightly with her favorite perfume, then put on her underwear, her hosiery and her dress. The dress was cream-colored silk, with a slim skirt and a wrap bodice, and long sleeves to keep her arms warm in the April night. She slipped pearl studs into her ears, then fastened a single long strand of creamy pearls around her neck. Pale beige sling-backs lifted her a few inches higher, giving her a willowy, swaying grace. Just as she picked up her matching beige evening purse, the doorbell rang, and she nodded in satisfaction. “Right on time,” she told herself in congratulation, and she meant herself, not him.
She opened the door to him, and as soon as she met his dark blue eyes she felt a sudden rushing warmth inside. Darn, but the man packed a wallop! All he had to do was smile and a woman was reeling on the ropes. But none of what she felt was in her lazy smile as she invited him inside. “Would you like a drink before we go?”
“No, thanks.” He looked around her small, cozy apartment, full of comfortable furniture and warm lighting, with her many unrelated collections filling every nook and corner. “Nice. It looks homey.”
With some people, “homey” would have been a polite way of saying “cluttered,” but somehow Tessa felt that he meant it. Andrew would have turned up his nose at the comfortable but definitely unfashionable decor, but then Andrew was very much concerned with keeping up his image. She sighed; she’d promised herself several times that she’d never think of Andrew again, but somehow he sneaked back into her mind at odd times. Why should she think of him now, when she was going out with a man who put Andrew completely in the shade? Perhaps her subconscious was dredging up Andrew’s memory in an effort to put her on her guard and protect her against a man who was so much more dangerous than Andrew had ever been.
His car was a rental, but a luxury model for all that. She’d heard it said that Brett Rutland was Mr. Carter’s fair-haired boy, and perhaps he was. After helping her into the car, he walked around to the driver’s side and folded his long length behind the wheel. When she considered his height, she realized that he had to have a large car; a man with legs that long would never be comfortable in a sports model.
“I made reservations for seven o’clock,” he said, and she caught a glint of amusement in his normally controlled expression. “You should be home by ten-thirty; can you stay awake that long?”
“I might,” she drawled, not giving him an inch.
A tiny smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“I’ll try to make sure you stay awake,” he said in a voice that almost purred with sensuality.
Oh, she’d just bet he would! Probably the only time any woman had gone to sleep on him was in his arms, after the loving was finished.
“What part of the South are you from?” he asked casually, as if he hadn’t read her file.
“I was born in Mobile, Alabama. But when I was thirteen my mother and I moved to Tennessee to live with her sister.” Those were the bare facts; they didn’t tell of her mother’s long battle with ill health, the poverty they’d endured, the times when there simply hadn’t been anything to eat because her mother hadn’t been able to work. Finally her mother had given up and swallowed her stubborn pride and asked her sister to drive down from Tennessee to get them, and even then she’d asked for Tessa’s sake, not her own. It was just that her mother’s entire family had been against Tessa’s father, and they’d been proved right, for he’d walked out on his family when Tessa was too young even to remember him. Tessa’s mother had lived barely a year after the move, and after that there’d been only Tessa and Silver in the old farmhouse just outside of Sevierville.
“What made you move out here?”
“I wanted to see something of the country,” Tessa replied easily. She wasn’t about to tell him about Andrew. She’d hated the idea of leaving, but Aunt Silver had talked her into it. She wasn’t running, Aunt Silver had said; she was turning her back on a bad situation and walking away from it. Well, Andrew thought she’d run, but eventually Tessa had come to realize that what Andrew thought didn’t matter worth a hoot. If only Andrew hadn’t been a hot, rising young executive at the company where Tessa had worked!
“Do you like it?”
“Well enough. What about you? You have a bit of a drawl yourself, but I can’t place it.”
He looked surprised, as if she wasn’t supposed to ask any of the questions. “I’m from Wyoming. My father and I own a ranch there.”
“A real ranch? Don’t you miss it?” Her eyes had brightened with interest, and she’d turned in her seat to face him, a movement that made the draped bodice of her dress gape open just a bit, enough to allow his quick glance to caress the soft, beginning curve of her breast. He wanted to put his hand inside her dress and feel the satiny swell, to make her nipple pucker against his palm. The jolt of pure desire that hit him took him by surprise, and he had to force himself to concentrate on her question.
“Yes, I miss it.” The admission surprised him, because he’d been ignoring the increasing need to walk away from the whole rat race and go back to what he’d grown up doing, ranching. Old Tom was proud of his son for making it big in the business world, and Brett had to admit that he’d enjoyed the challenge of it himself. But now…he was getting older, and so was old Tom, and when it came down to it there was nothing that gave him the satisfaction of a hard day’s work in the saddle. He wondered what this soft, sleekly sophisticated creature beside him would say if he told her that more and more often he wanted to go home, to Wyoming and the growing Rutland spread.
“I’m going to go home, someday,” she said softly. “This isn’t going to be my permanent home. Home is an old farmhouse that needs a coat of paint, and a dilapidated barn behind it that even the old cow was afraid to go in.” She laughed a little at her memories, but they were good, warm memories, because Aunt Silver had filled that old farmhouse with enough love to completely shelter her young, confused niece. Aunt Silver had left the old farm now, though she still owned it, and moved to a modern house in Gatlinburg, but Tessa meant to fix up the old farmhouse and live in it someday. The best times of her life had been spent there.
Looking at her now, Brett found it hard to believe that her childhood had been a deprived one. She looked as expensive as a woman from a moneyed, blue-blooded background, educated in a private school in Virginia. Why would she want to go back, if she had it so much better here?
Tessa thoroughly approved of the restaurant he’d chosen; she’d never been there before, but the interior was dim and the diners were all discreetly isolated, while the music was low and pleasant. They were shown to a private little alcove, where a candelabrum with three tall white tapers was the only light. The table was small, and she found that when they were seated their knees bumped. Their eyes met across the table, and a slow, sleepy smile touched his lips and made his eyelids droop heavily. He spread his legs until they were on either side of hers, then gently closed them so that his calves clasped hers. Her heartbeat bolted into a faster rhythm as she felt the warmth of his legs, the muscular strength of his calves. He’d have legs like a linebacker, she thought suddenly, and her legs felt burned from his heat.
Over a glass of very good wine, he continued questioning her, small, innocent questions that she answered willingly. She was too bemused by the possessive clasp of his legs to really pay any attention to the polite, getting-to-know-each-other questions that he gently posed to her every so often. Inevitably, they talked about work, since that was a common ground for them. He didn’t seem to be digging for any dirt, and he was so knowledgeable about the firm anyway that she found herself telling him funny anecdotes about the people she worked with, nothing that would get anyone in trouble, but the humorous little things that happened to everyone. She didn’t spare herself, either, and laughed as hard at the spots she’d gotten herself into as she did at any of the other stories. He countered with his own tales of the things that had happened to him during the years he’d been with Carter-Marshall, and Tessa completely relaxed.
Brett was too coolly controlled ever to be a social lion, but in a private situation with a woman he wanted, he was unrivaled. He charmed without threatening, making her feel appreciated without coming on too strong, skillfully wearing down any inner defenses. He wanted Tessa very much. It wasn’t that she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen because she wasn’t; but she was almost certainly the sexiest woman he’d ever met. It wasn’t anything he could really put his finger on; she was slender rather than voluptuous, though very shapely indeed. But her soft green eyes sparkled with teasing amusement, and her wide, generous mouth was made for passion. Her dark brown hair looked like thick silk as it curled around her delicate shoulders. With those high, beautiful cheekbones, she looked exotic and a little foreign. She teased and flirted…oh, she had flirting down to a fine art. Every time her long dark lashes languorously swept down to veil the cheerfully wicked glint in her eyes, he felt his body tighten with need. She played at being the vamp, but she did it so boldly, laughing at herself and enjoying the role so much, that it was unbelievably effective. She invited everyone else to enjoy themselves as lightheartedly as she did, but she didn’t seem to realize what a challenge she was. Brett thought of having her beneath him in bed, that full mouth no longer laughing but swollen from his kisses, and her sweet, satiny body accommodating his passions. He’d have to be gentle with her, at least at first, he thought as his eyes narrowed intently on her. She was delicately built, with slender, fragile bones.
Tessa looked up from the prime rib she was devouring with elegant greed, and found him watching her with sexual intent burning with obvious fire in his eyes. She went suddenly still, her mouth soft and a little tremulous. Without taking his eyes from her, he lifted his wineglass and drank the rich red liquid.
“Finish eating,” he said gently.
“I can’t.” Despite the way he made her feel, so shaky inside, she smiled at him. “You’re staring at me.”
“I know. I was thinking how much I’d rather be having you than this roast beef.”
His voice was so tender and low that it was a moment before she realized exactly what he’d said, and her eyes widened even more. She felt utterly hypnotized, sitting there and staring at him as helplessly as a rabbit must stare at a lion about to pounce. Giving herself an inner shake, Tessa gathered her senses. “Finish your roast anyway,” she admonished him. “Aunt Silver always told me that the only thing worth betting on was a sure thing, so don’t turn down your bird in the hand…or in this case, beef on the plate.”
His hard mouth curved in amusement. “Do you really have an Aunt Silver, or do you just use the idea as a diversion?”
Feeling more on top of the situation again, Tessa gave him a look so innocent that it should have been patented. “Now, could I really make up an Aunt Silver?”
“If it suited you.”
“You’re probably right,” she agreed comfortably, smiling at him. “But in this case, I don’t have to rely on my imagination. Aunt Silver is my actual, living, breathing aunt.”
“The one you and your mother went to live with?”
“Yes. Mother died not long after we moved to Tennessee, so Aunt Silver and I were closer than we’d normally have been. All we had was each other. She’s fantastic; she’s my aunt, my mother and my best friend all rolled into one.”
“Does she still live in Tennessee?” That was another bit of information that he’d already gotten from her file, but Brett’s cool attention to detail never faltered. He wanted her to give the details of her life herself, partly to account for the knowledge he already had, and also to give him the chance to see if she told it exactly as she’d put it in her file, or if she was reluctant to answer any personal questions. So far, she was an open, warmly responsive woman, and he wanted her more and more as the minutes passed.
“She owns a doll shop in Gatlinburg; she lives there now. The old farmhouse needs a lot of work done on it, and the only heat is the fireplace and old woodstove, so it was a lot easier on her just to move to Gatlinburg, as well as being safer during the winter. Now she doesn’t have to drive on those icy roads.” Tessa gave her slow smile. “I hope she’ll close the shop for a couple of weeks of vacation this winter, during the slow season, and come out here to visit.”
Brett’s eyes sharpened with interest. “Slow season?”
“The Smoky Mountain park headquarters are in Gatlinburg. The summer months, and through October, are the busiest, though a lot of people go during the winter, too, for the snow.”
He shook his head. Wyoming born and bred, he still couldn’t understand why anyone would actually want snow. It seemed to him that every winter they’d always had more snow than anyone could want in a lifetime. He skied, and did it well, but he’d never been enthusiastic over the sport or the snow necessary for it. But more and more he found himself missing Wyoming, even those god-awful winters.
Tessa laughed at his expression. “Listen, when you live in the South, snow is rare. I’d never seen snow at all until we moved to Tennessee.”
They finished their main courses, and the waiter promptly cleared the dishes away, while they lingered over the wine. Tessa had thought that she wouldn’t be able to eat any dessert, but when the waiter brought the dessert cart, she stared at the scrumptious pastries until her mouth was watering. “I can’t resist it,” she sighed, choosing her dessert.
Brett declined a sweet, but they both ordered coffee, and he slowly drank his as he watched her attack the pastry. She certainly enjoyed her food, for someone so slim. She glanced up at him and caught his gaze, and smiled as she read his thoughts. No words were necessary; it was one of those strangely intimate interludes when two minds march together, and she felt closer to him at that moment than she ever had with anyone else.
His gaze lowered. “You have a crumb on your lip,” he said softly, and Tessa ran her tongue slowly, searchingly, over her lips in quest of the errant crumb.
His navy eyes darkened to black. “You missed it. Lean over and I’ll get it off for you.”
Obligingly Tessa leaned over, smiling at him, so he could flick the crumb off with his finger. He paused for a moment, searing her with the dark heat of his gaze, then leaned over slowly, like a man moving at the command of a force stronger than he. As the distance between them lessened, Tessa’s eyes widened until they were large green pools, soft and deep. Surely he wasn’t going to kiss her, was he? Lightly his mouth touched her, found the crumb, and his tongue captured it. Tessa quivered under that light touch, filled with his taste, the heat and smell of his skin surrounding her. She felt almost paralyzed, totally unable to move away from him. She was as overwhelmed by him as if he’d put his arms around her and was holding her tightly to his lean, hard frame, though he’d touched her only with his mouth, and that so lightly and delicately that she’d scarcely been able to feel it.
He moved away, and the heat in his eyes had intensified, his gaze locked on her face. His expression hadn’t changed, but Tessa’s tingling nerve endings picked up the small, almost imperceptible signals of his growing arousal. His skin seemed to be pulled tighter over his fierce cheekbones; his lips were redder, a bit fuller. Tessa’s body throbbed in rhythm with his thundering heartbeat, as if his body set the pace for hers. His heat lured her, pulling her closer.
“Are you ready to leave?” he asked, and his raspy voice was even rawer than usual.
Tessa had a mental image of herself cheerfully, blindly wading ever deeper into the dark sea of temptation. In over my head, she thought with faint despair, then threw caution to the wind and nodded. “Yes. I’d like to go home now, please.”
He didn’t even take her arm as they walked back out to his car, but tension vibrated between them. Tessa glanced up at his controlled face, wondering how a man with such steely self-control could at the same time project the raw, steamy sensuality that was overwhelming her own instinctive caution before he’d even made a real move toward her. That fleeting brush of lips in the restaurant hadn’t qualified as a real kiss, but even that had sent rockets of pleasure zinging through her body.
She was a little stunned by the intensity of her feelings. Not even with Andrew had she wanted so badly, and she’d loved Andrew. Nor had she been physically attracted to Will, but Will had been an infatuation, not love. She was accustomed to attracting men; it was effortless on her part, and she simply accepted it as part of her personality. She kept it light, enjoying herself and enjoying the knowledge that the men in her life had fun when they were with her. Life was for laughter, for teasing and joking and dancing, for feeling good. It was for love, too, but she knew that love didn’t come as easily as laughter.
Tessa was a creature made for the sunlight, warm and bright; the man beside her was controlled, even a little grim, though she’d been able to bring the light of laughter to his eyes several times. For all the warm golden streaks in his hair, for all the heat of his sexuality, he was a man who held himself aloof mentally, whose emotions were cool and even. But he made her heart jump at the sight of him, as no other man had ever done. He made her ache, as if she were suddenly incomplete, and yearning to be a part of a whole, with him.
What if I fall in love with him? she thought in sudden panic, and looked at him with apprehension plain in her eyes. He wasn’t like other men; with him, she wouldn’t be able to control the relationship as she’d always done before. He would take everything she had to give, all of the sunlight and sweet secrets, and she wasn’t certain that he would give her anything in return. Oh, she knew that he was physically attracted to her, but he kept his emotions, his thoughts, carefully shielded. She was totally uncertain of herself in that regard, and she wasn’t used to feeling as if she was walking in emotional quicksand.
Brett had seen the brief moment of fear that had glimmered in her eyes, and he wondered what had caused it. What was she afraid of? She certainly wasn’t afraid of him as a man; she was too damned enticing and flirtatious. His brows pulled together in a momentary frown, before he smoothed them again. He’d solve all her riddles, eventually.
As he pulled the car to the curb at her apartment, he glanced at his wristwatch. “Ten o’clock, Cinderella. You’re safe for the night.”
She chuckled, then quickly sobered. Was she safe? She wasn’t certain yet, and she wouldn’t be until she’d seen him on his way. What if he wanted to stay? She’d already learned that her toughest problem with controlling him would be controlling herself. If he could make her melt with a barely-there kiss, what would she do if he turned his charm on full power?
His hand rested lightly on the small of her back as they went up the walk, but even that touch affected the rhythm of her heartbeat. “Let me have your key,” he murmured. She got it from her purse and gave it to him. He unlocked the door, then stepped inside the apartment before she could think of a way to keep him from coming in. She stood just inside the door and watched as he turned on the lights and checked all the rooms. “All secure,” he said, smiling a little.
“Is this security check standard?” she asked, curiosity momentarily taking her attention.
His eyes were like the deep Pacific, with golden lights dancing on top of the blue waves. “Yes,” he said simply, and came over to her where she still stood by the door. Taking her arm, he drew her farther inside and pushed the door closed. He cupped her face in his hard, warm hands, turning it up and studying the generous mouth, the languid sweep of her thick dark lashes. It was a passionate face for all its delicacy, and he wanted the taste of her mouth on his.
She clasped her hands around the thickness of his wrists, and he felt the faint quiver of her body. Without a word, he bent his head and covered her lips with his mouth, feeling the sweet softness tremble and part, and he kissed her harder, tilting her head back even more so he could slant his mouth across hers and deepen the caress. Tessa helplessly opened her mouth to his tongue. No man should taste this sweet and heady, but he did, and she cried a little inside because she was afraid he would hurt her if she gave him any opening into her emotions, but she was also afraid that she wouldn’t be able to protect herself.
He lifted his mouth from hers a fraction of an inch, and his wine-sweet breath wafted over her lips as he demanded in a low, harsh voice, “Kiss me the way I’m kissing you. Give me your tongue. I want it now; I want you to kiss me the way I know you can.” Almost fiercely, he put his mouth over hers again, and with a little sigh Tessa gave in to the delicious, erotic demand. She kissed him as if he were hers, as if she had every right to him, every right to demand everything from him. With her lips and tongue she claimed him, kissing him deeply, forgetting the need to protect herself. His frank, heated sensuality overcame the barriers of laughter that she used to keep people from becoming too intimate, and tapped into the deep, passionate core of her womanhood. Tessa was a woman with a deep reservoir of love and passion waiting to be given to the one man who would be the love of her life. She knew the worth of her love; she wasn’t about to waste it on a casual, fly-by-night relationship no matter how attractive the man. Always before, she’d been able to keep the necessary mental control to ensure this, but now she felt her control slipping away, felt herself giving him the first taste of the searing magic of her passion.
His hands left her face; one arm went around her rib cage, locking her to him with a steely strength that made her shiver as she realized how very strong he was. His other hand went to the back of her head and seized a handful of hair, exerting just enough pressure to hold her head back without hurting her. He lifted his mouth from hers again, and his breathing was ragged, his eyes burning with need.
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.
