Fire and Ice

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“You bloody Yankee!” she spat. She was beautiful in her fury, wild-eyed, flushed, her hair coming loose to stream down around her shoulders.

“Gloves off, Silver?” he taunted, drawing on the cigarette.

“As if I’d want my sister to marry into a family that produced a son like you,” she cried. “I’d rather she died an old maid!”

He looked as if he were going to strangle trying not to laugh. Devil, straight out of hell, she thought furiously.

“Calm down, honey.”

She wanted to attack him. She wanted to get her hands on him and beat him. It was the first time in her life she’d felt such physical rage.

He knew it, too. His eyes glittered with amusement.

“I want to go home,” she ground out, dragging her eyes away from him to glare at the deserted parking lot. She felt tears wetting her long eyelashes, and hated him for being able to make her cry.

“Giving up?” he taunted.

She drew in a long, shuddering breath.

Incredibly, he laid the cigarette in the ashtray and pulled her into his arms. She was rigid and shocked, but he hauled her up against him and began rocking her slowly, gently. She let her taut muscles relax little by little until she could feel the soft swell of her breasts pressed against the warm wall of his chest.

“I won’t go…to Panama City,” she breathed, knowing Jan needed her support, but too afraid of him to risk it.

“Yes, you will,” he said gently, his voice right at her ear so that she could feel his warm breath on her skin. “You’ll go because I want you to go…and underneath, you want it, too,” he whispered darkly.

She pushed against his chest and found herself panicking when she didn’t regain her freedom.

“Oh, don’t!” she pleaded quickly, pushing harder, her eyes widening. “Please, don’t ever do that….”

He let her go immediately, watching her struggle for composure.

“Is it me, or are you that way with all men?” he asked quietly.

“I can’t bear to be trapped or held against my will,” she admitted. “It terrifies me.”

He glanced out the windshield to see Jan and Andy moving slowly toward them, hand in hand, and he cursed violently under his breath.

“Someday,” he threatened softly, “you’re going to tell me why.”

“Don’t bet on it,” she advised, her composure returning with her temper. “If I come to Panama City, I expect to avoid you.”

He smiled dangerously. “You’re coming, all right,” he told her. “If I have to carry you every step of the way.”

“That’s called kidnapping,” she informed him. “It’s illegal.”

“I make my own rules. Didn’t you know?” he asked with magnificent arrogance. “What I want, I get.”

“Not this time,” she said.

“Especially this time,” he returned. His eyes searched hers in the silence of the car and for a moment the world disappeared into their brown, shadowy depths.

She felt a sensation like fingers drifting across her bare skin as she stared back at him. Time seemed to freeze while she fought against an attraction she’d never known before. He was nothing like the picture her mind had formed of him. He was a renegade, an outlaw, a pirate who only lacked a patch over one eye. He was the biggest threat she’d ever faced, and part of her wanted to get out of the car and run. But another part, a nagging part, was intrigued by the budding of a slow, soft curiosity about him.

His finger reached out and touched, lightly, the softness of her bow-shaped mouth; a touch like a whisper, incredibly sensuous, as it eased just slightly between her lips and found the pearly whiteness of her teeth.

She drew back from him with a strange little gasp.

His wide, sensuous mouth curved mockingly. “Tell me you’re coming to Panama City, Margie,” he murmured as the younger couple approached the car. “Or I’ll forbid Andy to bring your sister.”

“You would!” she accused.

“Damned straight. Yes or no? Now!”

“Yes,” she groaned. She looked away.

Andy opened the door and he and Jan climbed into the back seat, both of them smiling and on top of the world.

“Where to now, big brother?” Andy laughed.

“Home,” Cannon said, starting the car.

He let the Lincoln ease to a stop in front of Margie and Jan’s house minutes later and cut the ignition. When they reached the door he turned to Margie, while Andy and Jan said a slow, sweet good night a few feet away.

“I’ll pick you both up at six on Friday morning,” he said quietly.

“If you’d just give me the flight number and the airline…” she faltered, hating her own fear of him.

“Flight number?” He smiled coolly. “I have my own jet, honey. I’m going to fly us down.”

She knew that she was pale; she could feel the blood draining from her face. “I’d rather not….”

“I’ve been flying for twenty years, Margie,” he said with a tender note under the impatience. “I promise you I’m no daredevil when other lives depend on my actions.” He studied her narrowly. “You haven’t flown in a small aircraft since the crash that killed your husband?”

She studied his black tie. “No.”

“I’ll take care of you,” he said in a strange, soft tone that brought her eyes up to his involuntarily.

She was caught in that deep brown web again and a dark sweetness filled her.

“Come with me,” he murmured softly.

She tried to speak, but her breath caught. He was hypnotizing her, he was…

“I don’t have a choice…do I?” she whispered unsteadily.

“No,” he murmured absently. His eyes dropped to her soft, parted lips. “I haven’t wanted a woman’s mouth so much since my souped-up Chevy days,” he said so that only she could hear him.

“That I wouldn’t believe on a bet,” she said, trying to make light of it when her pulse was jumping like a frightened rabbit.

“Wouldn’t you?” He moved a step closer and her eyes dilated wildly. She’d already had a taste of his strength and it scared her. She didn’t want to find out if that sensuous, faintly cruel mouth was as expert as it looked.

“You’d hurt…” she said without thinking. She couldn’t think.

His eyes flashed down at hers and there was a matching wildness in them. “God, yes, I would,” he muttered under his breath. “And you’d fight me like a wildcat, wouldn’t you?”

She nodded slowly, unable to break the silver thread that bound them together. “Tooth and nail.”

“For the first few minutes,” he amended, letting his eyes drop slowly, boldly, over her body before they slid back up to meet her own. “After that…”

She cleared her throat. “I have an appointment Friday….”

“Break it,” he said curtly. “I meant what I said. If you back out, Jan doesn’t come, either.”

She searched his dark eyes, confused, uncertain. “Will you at least listen to me if I come?”

“Yes,” he said, and she knew he meant it.

“Then I’ll do it.”

His lifted his chin slightly. “I won’t promise more than I can deliver, Margie.”

“I never thought you would,” she said with a smile.

He studied her again, his gaze lingering on the bodice. “Maybe I was wrong about one thing,” he murmured.

“What?” she asked.

“The padded bra,” he whispered.

She ground her teeth together to keep from slapping him, but the color in her cheeks was unpreventable.

“You’re outrageous!” she told him.

“Righteous indignation?” he asked mockingly. “Ruffled modesty? I thought you were a liberated woman.”

“You make me feel about thirteen,” she slung at him, and then felt like sinking into the floor for admitting such a thing to such a man.

“Do I really?” he taunted.

“Good night, Mr. Van Dyne,” she muttered, turning.

“No parting kiss?” he asked with dark insolence.