Sleight Of Hand (18 page)

She pulled back from him and tossed the
condoms on the bed behind her. "That sounds like the beginning of a
farewell speech."

He turned his back to her, not able to watch
the glow in her eyes deaden into pain. "There's a three o'clock
flight from Halifax to New York. I want you on it. I'll phone you
in a day or two to let you know how your father is."

When the bed creaked behind him, he breathed
a sigh of relief and walked to the door. He knew he could count on
Sarah to keep her emotions under control. Pride swelled inside him,
chasing away the bone deep chill that had started to settle. He'd
never met such a strong woman.

"You didn't really think I'd buy that, did
you Chance?"

Her words hit his back as she slipped her
arms around his waist and leaned into him. Before he could free
himself, she slipped under his arm and with a fierce look in her
eyes, she leaned back against the wall, hooked her finger under his
belt loop and tugged him forward.

Caught off balance, he braced his hands on
the wall above her head to stop himself from crushing her. She
looked determined, yet so damned so fragile.

"It's for your own protection."

"You're good at that, aren't you?"

"What?"

"Taking care of people."

Hardly. His father would be alive today if
he'd paid closer attention.

Sarah tried to tug him toward her again, but
he locked his muscles into place, fighting back the need to comfort
her.

Or to find comfort.

Not on the menu, pal. Back off while you
still can.

"It's not going to work, Sarah. I won't let
you distract me from getting you on that plane."

"I'll make you a deal."

He swallowed hard as her lips curved into a
knowing smile. She unhooked her fingers from his belt loop, linked
her hands behind his back and leaned into him.

"I'll consider taking that plane." She
nuzzled the base of his throat. "But first you come back to bed
with me." She pulled her hands away from his back and started to
undo the buttons of the white shirt he'd put on earlier.

He'd had the vague idea that if he dressed a
bit more formally, it would give him an edge; put some distance
between them.

Right, Einstein.

He sucked in a sharp breath as she spread his
shirt wide open and ran her hands over his skin.

"I love touching you."

He caught her hands just before she unsnapped
the button on his fly. "Don't get me wrong, but it isn't going to
work. I've made up my mind--" The glow of triumph in her eyes as
she stared at the telltale bulge in his jeans stole his breath
away.

"It looks like it's working." She laughed and
stood on tiptoe to bring her mouth close to his.

As she kissed the corner of his mouth, his
tension slackened as if a part of him had already given up the
fight. There was only so much torture a man could take; exquisite
torture, but torture just the same. What had he been thinking this
morning to convince himself he could resist her? Had he even been
thinking or still flying high from last night?

Sarah's tongue darted out and touched his top
lip, then disappeared back into her mouth. An unquenchable thirst
for her--for them--raged inside him.

He'd lied to himself; a dangerous proposition
at the best of times. This once, he wanted to think only of Sarah.
Sarah and him. Together. The rest of the world could go to hell.
Besides, it may be the only way to get Sarah on the plane. He
grinned. Someone had to convince her.

"You know, I had you pegged all wrong." He
swung her up into his arms and cradled her to his chest as he
walked toward the bed. He stood by the edge of the bed and drank in
her flushed face and the excited look in her eyes. His heart
hammered in his chest. He prayed this time--this one last time--he
had the fortitude to love her slow and easy.

"I thought you were a shy little thing." He
laid her gently on the bed.

She blushed bright red as she watched him rip
his shirt off, unzip his fly and pull his jeans down. "I am shy. Or
I used to be before meeting you. Something in you triggers
something in me, and I...oh my."

He stood before her, erect and naked, blood
pounding through his veins. If she could make him feel like this
with just a look, how the hell was he going to take it slow?

It occurred to him then, as he watched her
kneel up with an easy grace and pull her shirt over her head, that
she had outfoxed the fox. With a cunning far greater than his, she
had slipped under his defences. He had a feeling, it was going to
be a long, long time before he got her out of his system.

Sarah let her nightshirt drift to the floor.
She lay back on the bed and grasped the sheet in both fists, raw,
mind-numbing need scraping along her nerves. If she didn't anchor
herself, she'd lose the small amount of control that had held her
together the last few minutes.

She concentrated on just breathing as Chance
crawled on the bed and knelt above her. Why hadn't anyone told her
someday she would feel this awesome love for a man? A love so deep,
so soul-shaking, she was willing to risk everything to make love to
him again.

He brought his mouth to hers, and kissed her
soft, so soft. She closed her eyes on a sigh. Seconds melted into
minutes as his lips caressed hers. The tension eased out of her
body. She let go of the sheet and slid her hands up over his
sweat-slicked back.

His kiss grew deeper, harder, then harder
again, and she drank him in, his taste, his texture, his scent,
until she felt him in every pore of her body. A whimper escaped
from her when he drew back from the kiss.

"Open your eyes, Sarah. I want to see you
when I make love to you." The slumberous heat in his eyes burned
into her as he stared at her, his hand circling her breast. "I want
you to see me."

Her nipples drew up into hard peaks as he
cupped both breasts, his suntanned hands dark against her white
skin. She moaned and restlessly rubbed her legs together to assuage
the heat building at their juncture.

"I love your breasts." He licked one nipple,
then pulled back and studied the effect he had on her. "They're so
sensitive." He lowered his dark head and lathered attention on both
breasts until the need in her grew so huge, her body jerked up into
his and she heard herself plead in a broken voice.

He stretched out beside her, took her in his
arms and kissed the top of her head, his hands smoothing down her
back. "It's okay, Sarah." He held her carefully, as if he cared,
really cared.

She touched his face, the hard muscles in his
arms, his beautiful, smooth back. "I want you so much, it hurts,"
she whispered against his jaw.

"Me too. I think we better find those condoms
now." He smiled into her eyes. "You are one hot lady."

"Only with you."

"Yeah, I feel the same way." He ran his hand
over her forehead, planted a kiss there, then rolled over on to his
back. "Any idea where those condoms are?"

She pulled them out from under the pillow and
held them up. "Are you going to let me help this time?"

Chance folded his arms behind his head and
grinned. "Think you can handle it?"

"I don't know. I've never done this before."
She slid away from him and for the first time, saw how hard he'd
grown. "Wow," she laughed. "More to the point, can you handle
it?"

"Not when you look at me like that." He
grabbed the package out of her hand and sat up on the side of the
bed.

A minute later, he turned back to her, a grin
on his face. "Now, where were we?"

"I think you were about to ravish me."

He lay down beside her and pulled her into
his arms, his lips touching hers. "I like the sound of that."

Bodies entwined, he rolled her on to her
back, and without hesitation, she spread her legs open for him. His
smooth length slid into her, filling her. He pulled out, then slid
back in, slower this time.

She gripped his shoulders. "You're torturing
me again."

"I'm torturing both of us." He braced himself
on his elbows, his neck muscles corded into taut columns. A fierce
look of concentration drew his mouth into a determined line.

She raised her head and brushed her lips
across his. "Don't hold back. Please."

He captured her mouth with his as at the same
time she wound her legs around him and thrust up. She wanted to
hold on to him forever, to keep him here, inside her.

Chance wasn't going to let that happen. He'd
run from her last night as soon as they'd finished, and he'd run
again because he thought it was the honorable thing to do. To
distance her from his life.

She understood about honor; even admired him
for trying to do what he thought was right. But the line between
honor and control sometimes blurred together.

Ignoring her plea, he slid halfway into her,
a groan tearing from his throat.

A tear leaked out of her eye and trickled
down her cheek. Ashamed, she tried to wipe it away before Chance
noticed.

He stopped. "I'm hurting you. Why didn't you
say anything?"

Like you're breaking my heart?
He had
enough burdens to carry. Her heart would not be one of them.

She tightened her muscles to hold him deep
inside her and cupped his face with both hands. "You feel
wonderful. Just like this."

He kept his gaze glued to hers as he thrust
more deeply into her again and again until they were caught in a
savage rhythm that drew them further into each other, and they
became one. For one, two minutes, they fused, then shattered,
collapsing against each other, holding tight the last dying
tremors.

After a minute, he pulled away from her.
Without a word, he got up and walked out of the room. She turned
her back to the door and scrunched up into a fetal position,
hugging her knees to her chest.

Was he running from her or from himself? She
swiped at the first of her tears with the back of her hand and bit
her lip. Damn it, she wasn't going to cry.

"Sarah?" Her body stiffened as Chance called
to her from across the room.

"Yes?" With her back still to him, she
grabbed the corner of the sheet and scrubbed the rest of her tears
away.

"I'm going to take a shower."

"Right."

When the mattress dipped behind her, she
peeked over her shoulder. A white towel slung low on his hips,
Chance sat on the edge of the bed and said nothing as he studied
her face. After a minute, he leaned forward and kissed the tip of
her nose.

"You're going to miss your plane, if we don't
get moving."

She glanced at him out of the corner of her
eye, then frowned at her toes as she wiggled them under the sheet.
"About that flight--"

"Don't." He shot to his feet. "You're going.
This isn't open for discussion."

"But--"

"Get packed. I'll be done with the bathroom
in a few minutes."

"I'm not going." She scurried back up against
the headboard and folded her arms over her chest.

A muscle jumped along his jaw, and his eyes
narrowed as he continued to stare at her. He looked dangerous and
determined, like a man girding himself for battle. Like a man sworn
to win.

What would happen if she told him she
suspected he was Simple Simon? Taking in the stern, lines in his
face, she slid further down under the sheet. Not a good idea. He'd
have her bundled up and on that plane before she could blink.

Because that was what Chance did; he took
care of people he loved. Only, he'd tell himself it was the
honorable thing to do, to distance himself from her so she wouldn't
be tainted by his past.

She cleared her throat, tore her gaze away
from the hard glitter in his eyes. "I came here to help my father,
and I'm not leaving until I find him." She wondered if the strange
sound emitting from him was his teeth grinding together.

"I work alone," he said in a soft, menacing
voice. "It's time for you to get out of the way."

"So that's what you do." She shot over to the
edge of the bed, the sheet clutched in her hand. "When anyone gets
too close, you pull out your I-dance-alone number and waltz them
out the door. How convenient."

"Convenient? Hell, from the minute the
O'Sullivans entered my life, both of you have been nothing but a
pain in the ass." He looked bewildered and angry.

A fierce desire to push him over into the
truth swept through her. He was so close to loving her, and he
didn't even know it.

Or, he didn't want to admit it. Would never
admit it.

"I'm finished with accommodating people." She
stood and meticulously wrapped the sheet tight around her. Calling
upon her finishing school training, she tossed her hair over her
shoulder and held her head high. "I tried for years to accommodate
my father's schedule, his wishes, but nothing I did kept him from
leaving me.

"Do you know why, Chance?" She heard a break
in her voice and willed her constricted throat muscles to relax.
"Because you can't coerce someone into loving you," she continued.
"Love isn't something you can control. It's either there or it's
not, and there's not a damned thing you can do except be true to
yourself and hope some day, someone will come along who loves you
for who you are."

She took measured steps toward the door,
stopping at the threshold. Chance stood on the middle of the room,
his gaze trained on the floor. "I couldn't live with myself if I
didn't try to help my father. He's all I have for family. I'm sorry
if that doesn't fit in with what you had planned, but that's the
way it's going to be."

Her heart near to breaking point, she turned
and left the room.

He loved Sarah O'Sullivan.

Chance swallowed the painful lump in his
throat and stared at the rumpled bed. He looked at the log walls,
at his clothes scattered about the room, then out the window at the
dismal, gray day.