Darling Enemy (13 page)

Her eyes went to his chiseled mouth and she stared at it with an intensity she wasn’t even aware of. She couldn’t help herself. It had been so long since he’d kissed her, held her. She wanted him to...

“Do you want to kiss me?” he murmured softly. He leaned down, within touching distance, holding her stunned eyes. “Come on, Teddi. Don’t hold back.”

Her lower lip trembled. “I won’t beg...”

“Oh, the devil with begging,” he growled, parting her lips expertly with his. “What does it matter who starts it if we both want it?” His breath sighed into her mouth, his teeth nibbled at it tenderly while his hands tangled slowly in her hair. His heart pounded heavily over her breasts as he eased down against them.

“King...” Her hands moved up, dislodging his hat to smooth the silky hair at his temples. Her eyes closed, her body lifted, grinding up against his. It was heaven. Heaven!

“Touch me,” he whispered, teasing her mouth with kisses that burned like fire.

“I am,” she whispered, nibbling back at his mouth, eagerly learning all the sweet lessons he was teaching her.

“Not the way I want you to,” he murmured. He found one of her hands and pressed it against the damp front of his denim shirt, where his heart was shuddering in his chest. “Men are like cats, darling, they like to be stroked, didn’t you know?” he murmured.

Her hands smoothed the fabric in slow, hard strokes while he kissed her.

“Teddi,” he groaned. He held himself poised over her, his fingers going impatiently to the buttons of his shirt, tearing them open. “Now,” he growled, thrusting one of her hands inside it, onto the warm, damp skin of his chest. “Like that.”

She stared up at him, feeling a new kind of hunger, aware of exquisite sensations as her fingers tangled in the thick, crisp hair. He looked sensuously male like this, his body half-bare, his hair ruffled, his mouth slightly swollen, his eyes narrow with undisguised ardor.

“Macho,” she breathed, looking straight into his eyes. “Much, much man...”

His hands tightened on her sleek, dark head. “You’re not bad yourself, kid,” he whispered with faint humor. “Harder,” he added, watching her hands with a half smile. “Touch, don’t tickle.”

“I’m trying,” she murmured, “but I’m having to fight my way through the underbrush...”

“You little vixen,” he accused. His mouth crushed down over hers, parting her lips almost savagely as he took what he needed from her. She felt the velvety hardness of his tongue easing into the sweet softness of her mouth, invading, taking, and a surge of wild feeling welled up in her. Her long nails dug into his chest before she lifted her arms to cling to him, raising her body against his warm hands, hands that knew where to touch, how to touch, to hold. A wild little moan whispered from her mouth into his, shocking him.

He drew back a breath, watching her. “Too hard?” he whispered, his hands gentle where they rested over the soft upthrust of her body.

“Oh, no,” she whispered back, trembling under his expert caresses.

His thumbs stroked tenderly and she gasped. “You fit my hands so perfectly...woman, you feel like silk and satin, and you make my head spin when I touch you like this. You’re not afraid of me anymore, are you?”

She shook her head slowly, watching him with her heart in her eyes.

His hands moved again, and she arched helplessly, dazed at the newness of what he was teaching her. “All woman,” he breathed. “Soft and wild and giving. This is what a woman should feel when her man touches her. Oh, yes, darling,” he whispered, bending slowly. “Yes, just like that, come up toward me. Darling, darling, move just...like...that....” His mouth caught hers again, and with a sunburst of sensation she felt his fingers opening her gown to the waist, gentle hands, so gentle, touching her in new ways, tenderly awakening sensations she had never known until now.

Slowly, the whole warm weight of his big body eased onto hers. She felt every sinew of him, every male contour; she felt his breathing as if it were her own. She seemed to have become a part of him.

Her body melted into his, softness giving way to hair-matted hardness, her body bare to the waist as his was, her flesh under his. She clung, unafraid, loving him until it was like torture to be so close and yet still not close enough.

Trembling, she drew her lips just a whisper away from his, shifting sensuously under him as she sought to get even closer, and he groaned.

“Please,” she whispered achingly. “Please help me.”

He held her face gently in hands that trembled, his face tense, his body strung as taut as a rope as he stared down at her with tormented eyes.

“I can’t,” he whispered, easing his weight from her. He settled alongside her trembling body and gently drew her close, his hands soothing now, easing the ache from her body.

“King,” she whispered against his warm throat. “King.”

“Next time,” he said at her ear, “we won’t stop. I’ll finish it.”

“I couldn’t have said no,” she moaned.

He laughed softly, tenderly. “I wonder what Miss Peake would have said if she walked in and I had given way to my instincts?”

“Miss Peake?” she echoed, dazed.

“You do remember I asked her to bring you some berries and cream?” he asked.

She gasped, drawing back to look at him. “I forgot!”

He cocked an eyebrow, letting his eyes drop to her open gown. She caught the edges together, flushing as her eyes met his.

“Don’t be shy with me,” he chided. “You’re lovely.”

“You make me feel that way,” she corrected, looking at him quietly. “King...why?”

“Why what?” he murmured, throwing his long legs over the side of the bed. He sat up and lit a cigarette while she fumbled with her buttons.

“What do you want from me?” she persisted.

“Everything,” he replied quietly, towering over her with his shirt still unbuttoned.

She searched his eyes, confused. “For how long?”

He shrugged. “Who knows?”

“And how about what I want?” she replied softly. He wasn’t offering commitment. He was agreeing to nothing more than a few nights together, with no strings on either side.

“I know what you want, darling,” he murmured wickedly. “You want me.”

“And is desire enough to satisfy you?” she challenged.

He gave her a strange, intent look. “I suppose it will have to be.”

At that moment, Miss Peake came in, carrying a tray with iced tea and a bowl of fresh strawberries and cream.

“King picked these for you,” Miss Peake told her with a quick, appraising glance at King’s open shirt. “Thought you might like some whipped cream on them, too.”

King ignored the disapproving glance and moved toward the door. “I’ve got work to do,” he said without looking back at Teddi.

“Too bad the cattle won’t herd themselves,” Miss Peake remarked.

King turned, glancing quietly at Teddi. “Isn’t it?” he murmured.

She glanced up at him. “Thanks for the therapy,” she murmured wickedly.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Is that what it felt like?” he asked. “I’ll have to work on my technique.” And he turned and went out the door, leaving her puzzled and breathless.

For the next few days, King reverted to being polite, friendly, and nothing more. It was as if he were giving her breathing space, time to consider the final step, to decide if she could settle for the only relationship he was willing to offer.

She agonized over it. Loving him as she did, she didn’t know if she could ever accept an affair. It would be even harder to let go afterward than it was now. Because she would have had the joy of belonging to him. And that would bind her to him in new ways, with strings that were impossible to break.

He’d practically admitted that desire was all he felt for her, when he’d said that desire would be enough to satisfy him. But would it be enough for her? The physical relationship would be wonderful, of course, but was it enough? She loved just sitting with him in the living room, watching TV. She loved watching him over the dinner table, riding beside him and talking on lazy summer mornings. She enjoyed him in ways that had nothing to do with desire. The newness of physical possession would soon wear off, and what would they have left? Teddi would feel like a cast-off shoe, and she didn’t think she could bear it.

She made up her mind slowly, but irrevocably. And when she felt well enough to pick up her life, and the stitches had been removed by a local doctor, she decided to go back to New York. The scar, while still noticeable on her cheek, could be covered with cosmetics, and she could walk well enough to work. She would work, she told herself, because she had to. And perhaps her career would take the place of a brief affair with King. Perhaps it would at least help fill the empty space.

Tearing off a hand would have hurt less, but she knew she had to tell King what she was going to do.

She followed him out the door after breakfast, she had made up her mind. She closed the door behind them, leaving the family at the breakfast table.

“What is it?” he asked gently. “Something important?”

“Yes.” She licked her dry lips, fascinated by the way his eyes followed the movement so intently. He looked sensuously masculine this morning, in his tight-fitting jeans and brown-patterned shirt, the wide-brimmed hat cocked over one brow, his face faintly smiling as he looked at her.

“Well?” he prodded.

It was all she could do to keep from throwing her body against his and begging him to carry her off someplace. She shook her head to dispel that notion.

“I’m going home tomorrow.”

He looked as if somebody had hit him on the head with a length of steel pipe.

“What?”

“I said, I’m going home tomorrow,” she repeated. “I need to get back to work, and the scars are fading fast, thank goodness. I can cover them with cosmetics...”

“You’re leaving me?” he burst out. “Just like that!”

She faltered, shocked at the fury in his hard face.

“I...” she began.

“Is it that Lothario accountant after all?” he growled. “Or is it just that you can’t force yourself to make a commitment?”

“Look who’s talking about commitments!” she threw back. “Old Footloose and Fancy-Free!”

“What did you expect, a ninety-nine-year contract, for God’s sake?” he growled.

“No, thanks,” she returned, “I couldn’t take ninety-nine years of you!”

“Scared?” he chided.

“Not of you,” she retorted. “I just want more than you’ve got to offer, that’s all.”

“Like what?” he challenged, his eyes blazing. “Flashy fashion shows and leering men?”

“It’s my career!” she cried.

His face froze over. “Then, if that’s what you want, go back to it,” he said with ice in his voice. “Go today. I’ll have someone drive you to the airport this afternoon, in fact.”

She gasped. “What?”

There were storms brewing in his cold gray eyes, and a livid fury that she didn’t understand. “You heard me,” he ground out. “Get packed!” He turned on his heel and stomped down the steps.

Tears poured down her cheeks as his words sank in. He was throwing her off the property! She could barely believe her own ears. Did he hate her so much that he couldn’t bear the sight of her anymore? Or was it just his masculine pride, damaged because she wasn’t the pushover he’d expected her to be?

She went wobbling up the stairs to her room in a daze and started packing, wondering how she was going to explain this to Jenna and Mary.

She grimaced. Well, she’d just let King explain it. He could tell them whatever he liked. She’d make up some story about an assignment or something, and let him take it from there. Arrogant beast!

It only took a few minutes to get her things together. King thought she preferred modeling to him, and perhaps it was better that way. She didn’t want him to find out how desperately she was in love with him. Her pride would be crushed if he knew.

She closed the bag and picked it up, taking one last look around the bedroom to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. She turned, closing the door quietly behind her. Above all, she must act as if nothing were wrong, she mustn’t let him know how devastated she really was.

She walked down the staircase, to find King in deep conversation with Jenna at the front door. He looked up when he saw Teddi in her white linen pantsuit and the same pale blue wrap blouse she’d worn the day he took her to Banff.

Something flashed in his gray eyes at the sight of that blouse, but his face gave nothing away.

“I was just telling Jenna about your new assignment,” he told Teddi curtly, daring her to deny it.

She cleared her throat and tried to look radiant, wary of Jenna’s sharp eyes on her as she went the rest of the way down the staircase.

“Yes, I’m so excited I can hardly stand it,” she told her best friend with a forced smile. “Imagine, two commercials...!”

King looked uncomfortable and Jenna narrowed her eyes. “I thought it was a trunk show in Miami,” she said.

Teddi shifted the small suitcase from one hand to the other. “Uh, yes, that’s what it is...a trunk show and two commercials in Miami,” she murmured, her voice fading away.

“What,” Jenna asked, looking from one to the other, “is going on?”

King took Teddi’s arm. “We’d better go or you’ll miss your flight,” he said gruffly, drawing her out the door. “Jenna, I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” he told his sister, and slammed the door before she could ask any more questions.

“You might have given me time to say goodbye to Jenna and your mother,” Teddi said angrily as he put her in the passenger seat of the Ferrari.

“You can wave at them, can’t you?” he asked tautly. He got in and started the engine with an angry motion, barely giving her time to wave at the two stunned women standing on the front steps before he roared away toward Calgary.

She glanced at his set profile. He hadn’t even bothered to change out of his work clothes. His boots were dusty and his hat looked as if it had seen better days. But of course nobody paid any attention to clothing in a busy airport. Her eyes unconsciously worshipped him. It was only just dawning on her that by saying “no” she was banishing herself from him forever. She’d never see him again after today.