Reckless Passion (17 page)

"What are you waiting for?" he demanded brutally. "That so-called normal relationship you mentioned? Don't you know there is no such thing? Not between us. It's too late!'

"I don't believe that!" Her head moved on the pillow, sending the deep fire of her hair out in a fan which caught his eye for an instant.

"You're waiting for the magic click, aren't you?" he accused suddenly. "How long did it take before you felt it with that other man? The one you mentioned at lunch?"

Dara
stared at him and then drew a deep breath. "With him it happened the moment we met."

There was a shattering stillness as the hazel fires raged in his eyes for an uncontrolled instant. "For everyone's sake, make sure he and I never meet,
Dara
. I'll take him apart.
Literally."

She sucked in her breath at the violence in him. In that instant she could well imagine the dangerous, uncivilized man he had been in the past. She had a sharp vision of him taking a knife to anyone who dared call him names, she could see him risking the dark mountain roads with his illegal cargo and she could visualize him taking part in a tavern brawl. The Southern-gentleman veneer was thin, indeed.

"Don't worry," she flung back hastily. "I'm not anxious for any more violent scenes!"

"What happened to that relationship?" he asked between clenched teeth.

"I told you at lunch, I don't want to discuss it!"

"You told a
gentleman
at lunch that you didn't want to talk about it. He had to accept the answer, but I don't! Tell me,
Dara
. What went wrong with the magic click the last time?"

She felt the seething tension in him, knew he was determined to have an answer, and she was at a loss as to what to say. It had been a mistake to let him think there had been someone else, someone who was perfect for her....

“There were... are... complications.''

"Complications!
Are you implying it might not be over?" he asked incredulously.

"If we can get things worked out..."
Dara
hedged recklessly, wondering desperately if she was doing the right thing by goading him like this.

"Forget it!" he snarled. "Don't even
think
about him again, do you understand me? Whatever you had or didn't have, it's over and done with. It was finished the night you left that party with me! You aren't in love with
him,
you can't be in love with him. If you were in love with another man, there's no way on earth you could have given yourself to me the way you did this weekend!"

"How do you know?" she couldn't resist challenging. "You hardly know me at all. You can't begin to guess what I might or might not be capable of doing!"

He glared at her for an instant as if he couldn't understand her argument. "No," he said with appalling emphasis. "I know you well enough to be sure of that much.
You aren't in love with anyone else!"

"Whatever you say, Yale," she toss back recklessly.

"Remember that!" he rapped. "The safety of your charming neck may depend on it!"

"Don't threaten me!"

"Why not?
You belong to me. I can threaten you as much as I please!"

"One weekend out of my life doesn't give you any rights!"

"The hell it doesn't," he gritted. "Where I come from, a man takes the rights he wants."

"You may be from those lawless mountains, but you don't live there anymore! You're supposed to be maintaining another life-style now."

"You have only yourself to blame for shattering that life-style. You should have let well enough alone, been content with the Southern-gentleman accountant. He might have given you the time you seem to want. But you had to go and dig up the other half of me.

Now you've got all of me on your trail and you don't stand a chance."

"You won't find me a casual bed partner!" she vowed.

"You
will
surrender! You can't give yourself the way you did this weekend and then change your mind about the relationship because it didn't develop the way you wanted!"

"You sound as if you're the one who got used this past weekend!"

"I did! You used me and then you tried to drop me. But it won't work,
Dara
. You're not going to walk all over my pride and get away with it!"

"You're doing this because of your pride?" She gasped, horrified.

"That's part of it," he retorted chillingly. "I'm also doing it because I still want you! With motives like that, a man doesn't give up easily."

"But those aren't the motives I want from a man!" she cried.

"I know. You have a preconceived notion of how things should be between yourself and a lover, but things don't always go the way we think they should. You're mine,
Dara
, and I'm going to make you admit that. You're not going to walk away and go flitting off to someone else who fits your mental image of the proper sort of lover!"

He surged to his feet and stood for a moment beside the bed, hazel eyes roving her slightly crushed and wholly abandoned looking figure.

"Tomorrow night you'd better keep in mind that I'm determined to have you! Sooner or later I'll get
you where you belong in bed and pleading for more of what you discovered in that damn motel!"

Moving with the frightening grace of a leopard, the devil who had invaded
Dara's
bedroom disappeared.

Nine

It
was like dealing with two different men,
Dara
thought a little hysterically the next evening when she met her civilized accountant at the door.

Once again Yale was all good manners, sober suit and charm. The only clue to the devil in him lay in the gleam of hazel eyes through the lenses of his glasses and the flash of gold in his smile.

Dara
was ready for him in more ways than one. She flung open the door and hurled the accusation at him before he'd even managed to step across the threshold.

"You followed me to work this morning!"

He arched one amber brow in polite inquiry. "I don't think that was me," he offered. His eyes swept her sleekly parted burnt-russet hair, the sun-bright, long yellow dress which flowed over her full curves and the sparkling challenge in the gray-green eyes.

"Of course it was you! I couldn't mistake that car, and you know it! It was the same you who came prowling into my bedroom uninvited last night!"

"Like I said, it wasn't me. Not quite. What honest, Internal-Revenue-Service-fearing accountant would go around doing things like that?"

"You're going to stand there and deny you're... trailing me?" she snapped, dumbfounded. "Stop playing games, Yale."

"You really ought to take this up with him," Yale advised helpfully, lifting the shawl from the back of a nearby chair and placing it solicitously around her shoulders.

"I don't believe this," she gasped, whirling to stare at him in confusion and annoyance. "Stop pretending you're some sort of split personality!"

"Why not?
Two hunters are much more effective than one. Come along,
Dara
, I've got reservations in half an hour."

"Yale," she protested weakly, uncertain how to handle the bizarre situation. A part of her found it vastly intriguing in spite of the danger she felt. "Yale," she went on determinedly, allowing him to guide her out to the car, "this is ridiculous!"

"I agree. You can call it off any time you wish," he informed her lightly as she slid into the leather interior.

"I
can call it off! You're the one who's behaving in such a crazy fashion! They put people in strait-jackets for this sort of thing!"

"Let's hope you don't let it go that far," he growled feelingly, starting the engine. "In the meantime, would you mind if we don't talk about
him?
This is my evening and I'd prefer to have your full attention."

She caught the hopeful, whimsical note in his gently accented words and stared at him in a combination of disgust and amusement.

"Don't tell me you're jealous of...of that hunter who was in my room last night!" she dared.

He flashed
her a
slanting, enigmatic glance.
'"Why not?
He's had memories all day long of how you felt in his arms last night. As a proper Southern gentleman, I couldn't have barged into your bedroom without being invited. Is it any wonder?"

"Why should it bother you?" she demanded tartly. "You had the same memories!"

"This could get confusing, couldn't it?" He chuckled warmly, downshifting for a light.

"Does that mean you'll give up this crazy charade?" she said quickly.

"No, but let's talk about something besides me," he retorted easily. "Tonight you're on a date with a man whose manners you can rely on implicitly. Why not enjoy it? Have all those conversations you wanted to have that make you think we're developing a normal relationship."

"Are you making fun of me?" she muttered suspiciously.

"A gentleman never makes fun of a lady," he intoned piously.

It took a violent effort of will for
Dara
to stifle the laughter which threatened to bubble over inside her.

As it was, the humor was clear in her eyes although she managed to keep her expression suitably haughty.

"And you, of course, are the perfect gentleman. Forgive me. I don't know how I could have made such an accusation. You'll have to understand, I've had a rather upsetting few days," she murmured with social apology.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he returned
commiserat-ingly
. "Life is full of the unexpected, though, isn't it?"

"Yes, but those with fortitude and endurance can cope."

"You have both?"
"Definitely!"

"Excellent. How did work go today? Did you put together the information on those securities you mentioned?" he asked politely.

"Yes. I have it at home, as a matter of fact. Remind me tonight and I'll give it to you." She eyed him coolly, assessing her decision to treat him exactly as he wished.

"What else are you following besides electronics? I want to keep the portfolio diversified," he began conversationally.

“Some of the new medical-research stocks may be good but very risky. The new emphasis on gene technology is bound to revolutionize the field, but a lot of starters are going to get left behind in the dust," she mused.

"I don't mind some high-risk stuff. I've got enough of the blue chips as it is," he told her easily, pulling into the parking lot of the restaurant he'd selected.

"Just how gutsy do you feel?" she asked
chal-lengingly
.

"Whenever a stockbroker gets that particular gleam in her eyes I get nervous," he said, parking the Alfa Romeo with second-nature precision. "What are we going to short?"

"How did you guess?" She grinned.

"I've been burned on one short sale," he warned her, assisting her out of the car with male grace. "It would have to be a very, very sure thing...."

"There is no such animal as a 'sure thing'!"

He sighed. "Tell me about it."

"Well, there's this small computer company which got caught up in the run-up of technology stocks last year. But I happen to know they're on very shaky ground now. Their financial base is practically nonexistent. It can't be long before the market realizes just how precariously balanced the firm is," she said enthusiastically as they were shown to their seats.

"You enjoy your work, don't you?" Yale smiled, sitting down across from her and scanning her eager, excited face with amused interest.

"Love it. Knew I would the first day on the job! All the challenge and excitement and thrills..." She shrugged self-deprecatingly. "There's nothing quite like the day-to-day highs and lows of the securities business."

"So tell me more about this little computer company you're proposing to short," he murmured.

"The stock is almost bound to go down, and soon," she confided, leaning forward intently. "As a matter of fact, I'm going to short it in my own portfolio."

"You manage your own account?"

"Naturally.
I don't intend making all those profits for other folks and not taking some of the benefits for myself!"

"So you're proposing we borrow some of this computer firm's stock, sell it while it's high and then buy it back when it tumbles. Our profit being the difference," he clarified, picking up the tasseled menu.

"A lot of people forget there's money to be made on a stock that's going down as well as on a stock that's going up,"
Dara
reminded him.

"There's a hell of a lot more risk involved selling a stock short," he grumbled. "Ask me—I know!"

"How badly were you burned?" she asked sympathetically.

"I panicked when the stock was guaranteed to tumble started going up a point a day!"

She winced.
"How many days before you bailed out and took the loss?"

"Ten," he told her wryly. "I lost about five thousand."

"Oh, dear.
I suppose you're really not interested in trying another short sale, then?"

"A gentleman can nearly always be talked into anything by a woman he'd like to seduce." Yale grinned, glancing up from the menu with a deliberately sardonic expression in his eyes.

"I'll keep that in mind," she managed to fling back spiritedly.

The evening passed with surprising swiftness, the conversation moving quickly from one topic to another.
Dara
was astounded to realize hours later on the drive home that she had almost forgotten about the strange game Yale was playing. She was too involved in getting to know her Southern gentleman better and in getting him to know her.

She was floating on a contented haze created by what she told herself was the success of the evening when they reached her front door. Smiling, she turned on the step.

"Would you like to come in for a brandy?"

"Yes." He smiled back. "I would."

She hesitated briefly as he took the key from her hand and inserted it in the lock.

"You will remember which role you're playing tonight, won't you?" she drawled in liquid tones.

"I'm still able to keep it straight," he assured her softly as she slipped past him to enter the apartment. "I'm hoping you'll let the two aspects of my personality reunite before any lasting damage is done to my psyche!"

Dara
eased the shawl from her shoulders and knew a moment's inexplicable pleasure as his hand reached out to assist her, touching her nape lightly in the process.

"I refuse to take the blame for this double life you're intent on leading," she informed him coolly, walking toward the kitchen to get the brandy.

"You caused it."

He followed her, coming to lean negligently in the doorway as she went about the small domestic
busi-ness
. She could feel his eyes on her every move and determinedly refused to let it affect her.

"Do you suppose there was someone around when Pandora opened her box?
Someone who forever after kept telling her that everything that happened was her fault?"
She sighed.

"Probably," Yale said idly. "But, then, she deserved it."

"A woman can't help her natural curiosity."
Dara
handed him the snifter and led the way back out into the cozy living room.

"Then she should learn to live with the consequences."

"What a pompous thing to say," she chided, sinking gracefully into a far corner of the sofa. The yellow skirts of her dress flared around her.

"Accountants sometimes seem a little pompous," he apologized, lowering himself casually across from her.

"Men sometimes seem a little pompous!" she corrected firmly.

"Whatever you say, ma'am," he drawled, his eyes laughing at her as he lifted his brandy glass.

"Now, there's a proper gentlemanly attitude. The lady is always right,"
Dara
teased, inhaling the aromatic fumes trapped in the bell of the glass.

"Or else she's afraid," he added agreeably, sipping his drink.

"Afraid!"

Dara
stared at him, the lighthearted teasing dying in her eyes.

"Umm," he confirmed as if he hadn't noticed her sudden irritation. "What else can I call it when, having opened the box, Pandora tries very hard to shut it again, even though she liked what she found inside?"

"Caution!
Common sense!
Intelligence!"

“All good qualities in a stockbroker, but when they appear in the woman behind the broker, one has to ask why."

"Yale, what exactly are you trying to say? Do you think you can talk me into bed by calling me a coward?"
Dara's
eyebrows drew together in warning.

"No, I'm only trying to understand your actions. The only way they make any sense is if we accept the fact that there's a measure of cowardice involved here.'' He smiled at her in a lofty way that irked
Dara
.

"You might be feeling a little cowardly yourself if you found yourself the victim of a...a two-pronged hunt!" she gritted, swallowing a larger part of the brandy.