“Let it ring,” he murmured quietly.
Her eyes darted away from his. “I—I can’t …” With a move backward, she sidestepped his tall form and made for the kitchen, where the wall phone hung.
“Hello? … Yes, Martha…. No, that’s all right…. What? … Oh, no…. Why didn’t you wait untilafteryou’d checked that out with me? … Of course, I understand …. No, it just makes things more difficult. After all, we’re trying tonegotiatea settlement, not enforce one! … Look, Martha, since there’s nothing I can do tonight, why don’t we talk in the morning, after I’ve had a chance to speak to your husband’s attorney? … Fine…. Yes, I know, Martha…. Good-bye.”
Replacing the receiver, she leaned forward, steadying her breathing, assuming herself to be unobserved. When Sloane’s lean figure entered her line of sight, she looked up, startled. “I—” she began, only to be cut off by the hands which took her shoulders and hauled her against him, by the lips which clamped down upon hers as though he were taking no further chance of interruption until this particular matter of business had been dealt with.
The dealing was mind-boggling. His initial force gave way to a tenderness which commanded response from Justine as surely as if she had initiated the kiss. After a first moment of shock, she returned everything he gave, then reeled at the havoc of ecstasy his manliness inspired.
Bursts of excitement rippled through her body when his hands began to wander with agonizing precision over every swell and hollow of her supple form. She clung to him, a castaway, struggling simply to keep her head above water.
“God, Justine,” he rasped when he released her mouth to kiss her eyes, her cheeks, the soft lobe of her ear.
The thought of resistance was anathema to her, her vows of abstinence forgotten. In Sloane’s hands she was all woman. She’d never felt as sensually aroused in her entire life. The sensations were new and consuming, demanding more and more as they grew stronger.
Beneath her fingers, his muscles tensed. His back was broad and strong, his waist lean in turn. The hardness of his body stirred greater potions through her veins, driving her to sure madness if the coiled tension within were not somehow released.
Slowly Sloane pulled his head up and away, looking down at her, asking the question she asked herself, softly voicing it for eternity. “Justine, should I stay…?”
They had reached the fork in the road, a fork that she had sensed was inevitable from the start. Confusion whipped a ravaged path across her features, slowly, slowly yielding to denial. She’d lived her life based on solid conviction for so long. Now she couldn’t possibly ignore those beliefs for one brief brush with pleasure. Her eyes were sad as she shook her head. “Not tonight, Sloane. Not … tonight….”
To her total bewilderment a broad smile lit up Sloane’s face. “That’s good. Very good.”
Justine regarded him as though he were deranged. Her nose wrinkled up as she questioned him. “What do you mean—‘that’s good’? Most men would be furious!”
“But I’m not ‘most men’ and I don’t like the idea of your hopping into bed with a man—any man—you’ve only known for little over a day.” His grin was brilliant. “You may be a very passionate red-headed vixen, but you have restored my faith in the morality of women!”
A slow anger began to rise, overshadowing the desire which had moments earlier captivated Justine. “You tested me.”
“You might say that.”
With a vigorous shove, she pushed him away and stormed into the living room. “I think you’d better leave now,” she called loudly over her shoulder, pacing to the fireplace and planting herself there, arms crossed over her chest, with her back to the room. She didn’t hear his approach, merely felt the warm length of his arm slip around her middle and fit snugly beneath her breasts as he drew her back against him once more. Dismay filled her at the involuntary swell of her breasts, the instinctive trembling of her insides. Yet she couldn’t get herself to pull away.
“Don’t be angry,” he crooned against her curls, his body long against her. “I would have been glad to stay. God only knows I’ll have enough trouble trying to sleep. But there’s more to life than lust, isn’t there?” He paused, then squeezed her. “Well, isn’t there? Would you rather I was a forceful rogue, taking whatever I could get, then walking out? Hmmmm?”
She shook her head in misery, racked by a mix of frustration and mortification. Of course, he was right! Her resentment was uncalled-for.
“There,” he declared softly. “One other thing we agree on. And, when the time is right, we’ll agree on everything.” His emphasis on the last word startled her even more than his expression of the entire thought.Heimplied a future to their relationship—shehad not gone that far. “Now.” He loosened his hold and turned her around, keeping her well within the circle of his arms. She had to tilt her head up to face him, yet his height was strangely comforting. His nearness sharpened her senses anew, thrilling her with its aura of masculinity. “I have to go home to Atlanta for the weekend—to see my parents and tie up a few loose ends. From there I’m off to Tucson for a week or so—a small matter regarding an irrigation proposal. Shall I see you when I get back?”
Justine was surprised at the question, given his tone of total self-assurance. Reluctant to give him the satisfaction of an eager acceptance of his very open-ended suggestion, she shrugged, feigning indifference. “Perhaps.” The feel of his thighs, muscled and strong, lingered as he stepped away.
“You’ll wait for me?”
“‘Wait’?”
There was a devilish slant to the upward lift of his eyebrow. “You won’t go and take up with the first man who comes along?”
“Don’t be absurd—is this another one of your little tests?” She followed his progress to the door through eyes narrowed in suspicion.
His laugh was hearty. “Could be, Justine. Could be.” Then he sobered. “Good night. And, Justine?” The door was open by his hand; his eyes captured her. “Take care of yourself, will you?”
Unable to muster a response amid the eddy of emotion, she could only look on in astonishment as he reinforced the request with a visual command, then closed the door quietly behind him.
Justine sighed her bewilderment. “Good night, Sloane,” she whispered at last into the silence.
Chapter 4
Fate, however, conspired to keep Sloane out of the state for nearly three weeks, giving Justine ample time for soul-searching. Where, precisely, was their apparently mutual attraction to lead? No man had ever inspired such thoughts in her; in the past, there had always been a definite cutoff point beyond which she had simply refused to go. As she had told Sloane, she set her terms and stood by them. Now, however, she found herself rethinking those terms. If she had been drawn inexorably toward Sloane in person, his magnetism in absentia was no less awesome. He was ever on her mind.
