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He laughed shortly. "What a novel idea," he said gruffly. "I can have it drawn up into a
contract, can't I? X number of dollars in exchange for a woman's body and one male child."
"Oh, stop it," she said, torn up inside at the cynicism in his voice. "You make it sound
so cold-blooded."
"It would be," he replied as he eased the car into a parking spot and cut the engine. His
face, in the dim lights of the parking garage, was harder than ever. "If I'm cynical, it's
because life's made me that way." He caught a strand of her loosened red gold hair and tugged
at it idly. "I told you once that I didn't mind paying for what I wanted. That's true, within
limits. But I'm not paying any woman for a son. Children should be born out of love, not
business."
"You old romantic, you," she said with a faint smile.
He frowned at her. "Haven't you ever wanted children?"
She averted her face. That was a question so deeply personal, she almost resented it.
"I'm too old for that," she said coolly.
"At twenty-seven?" he burst out. "My God, women are having babies in their forties!"
He scowled.
"It's the commitment, isn't it?" he said speculatively. "You might be able to manage a
loose commitment to a man someday, but there's no walking away from a child."
She smiled self-consciously. "You know me pretty well."
"Not as well as I'd like to," he said flatly, his eyes suddenly smoldering. "And not in the
sense I want to."
"What sense?" she blurted out before she thought.
But he turned away to get out of the car without answering her.
"Are you really afraid of sex?" he asked as they walked toward the elevator, not looking
at her.
The question, coming out of the blue, shocked her. She stared up at him, almost
stumbling. "Afraid?" She flexed her shoulders under the cobwebby gold shawl she was
wearing over her dress. "I don't know. I only tried it once, you know, and it was a pretty
brutal introduction."
"He must have hurt you a lot," he said curtly.
"He didn't know I was a virgin until he was past the point of caring," she said, hating
the memory. She drew the shawl closer. "I was madly in love, for the first time in my life. Or
thought I
was. I'll never be vulnerable again, thanks to Allen, He did that much for me."
"He did nothing for you," he countered, his eyes blazing. He glared down at her as they
entered the elevator and he punched a button with a vicious jab. "Are you planning to live
the rest of your life the way you are?"
Her green eyes widened. "Like I am?" she prodded.
"Alone," he said.
She leaned back against the wall as the elevator hummed and began to move. "You're
alone," she said.
"Not all the time," he said meaningfully.
She glared at him. "I don't believe in casual affairs," she said shortly. "I could never be
promiscuous, or give myself out of a purely physical urge."
"And if it was with someone you cared about, who cared about you?" he asked quietly.
Her eyes searched his. "I don't know."
"What about if it was with me?" he asked in a deep, velvety tone.
She looked at him as if he'd just suggested that they catch a bellhop and barbecue him over a
fire in the lobby. The expression on her face brought
a reluctant smile to his dark face, and a twinkle to his eyes.
"What... are we having for supper?'' she asked evasively, her face almost the shade of the
red highlights in her hair.
He laughed softly. "Wait and see."
Josito served them a delicious meal of beef burgundy with a crisp chef's salad and
homemade rolls, accompanied by a rich port wine with a cheese flan for dessert. John ate his
with obvious relish, while Madeline only picked at hers, looking distractedly out the window
where flashes of lightning illuminated the jagged shape of the city skyline. What he'd said in
the elevator disturbed her. Despite the hunger she had discovered for him, and his equally
obvious hunger for her, she'd never consciously let herself think of John as a lover. Now she
was forced to think of him in that role, and her own reaction to the idea surprised her.
Her eyes involuntarily skimmed over his hard face, the mouth that had possessed hers so
thoroughly. She could almost picture him in bed, his bronzed skin under her hands, that
demanding mouth against every inch of her body, his hands touching her intimately.
"Not hungry?" he asked suddenly, leaning back with his second cup of coffee in his hand.
"Uh, not really, no," she said uneasily.
"You look embarrassed." He cocked his head at her, his eyes narrow, searching. "Was it
what I asked you in the elevator if you'd ever thought about making love with me?"
She dropped the coffee cup. The hot liquid splattered all over the linen tablecloth,
drenching the remains of her dessert, her napkin, and spilling into her plate. She gasped and
jerked back just in time to save her dress.
"Well, that answers that question," John said with a wicked chuckle. "Josito!" he called.
The little white-coated man came running, assuring Madeline that he could save the tablecloth
from being stained, and shooed them off into the living room while he cleaned up.
John was still laughing as he sprawled in his big easy chair and shed his jacket and tie. "My
God, what a reaction," he murmured as he opened the top few buttons of his ruffled shirt.
"My hand slipped," she said stubbornly. She kicked off her shoes and curled up on the
sofa, glaring across at him.
"Sure." He lit a cigarette and drew up a hassock for his elegantly booted feet.
Madeline stared at the hands folded in her lap. "All right, I wasn't expecting to be
propositioned by you."
Both heavy eyebrows went up. "I wasn't aware that I'd propositioned you," he said with
that silky note in his voice that spelled trouble.
"What would you call it?" she asked, starting slightly as a clash of thunder reverberated
through the room.
"A straight-out, honest question," he replied. He took a deep draw from the cigarette. "I
want to know if you've ever thought of me as a lover."
"Why?" she countered.
He leaned over and crushed out the barely touched cigarette with a vicious motion.
"Because we can't go back," he said shortly. "I told you that earlier, and I meant it. Now that
I've had a taste of you, I'm going to want more." He met her eyes levelly. "That's human
nature, honey, and you aren't any more immune to me than I am to you."
"Don't rush me...."
"Rush you, for God's sake!" he growled, getting to his feet to tower over her big and
masculine and sensuous with his shirt half unbuttoned over that bronzed, massive
chest. ''You've had two years!''
' 'I won't be added to the Ferrari and the ranch and the oil corporation!" she flung at him. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]