Blue Mist of Morning (18 page)

Uttering a muffled imprecation, Ty thrust her into his
bedroom and switched on the light, his eyes blazing furiously as he
glared down at her. "And just what is that supposed to mean?" he
muttered, his low tone intimidating. "Are you accusing me of lying? If
you are, I want to know why. I've never lied to you before, have I? Why
should I start now?"

She thrust out her chin defiantly as her answer came out
in a rush of words. "Maybe you hope a lie will ease your conscience
about standing me up tonight!"

Ty was perfectly still for a fraction of a second, as his
narrowed gaze flicked over her. Then suddenly a glimmer of
understanding warmed his icy blue eyes, and his strongly carved
features gentled. His hold on her waist loosened slightly, and when he
shook her again, there was more tenderness than anger in the action.
"Is that what this is all about, Anne?" he asked softly. "Are you upset
because I had to go see Millicent?"

"I'm not upset at all. I…"

"Yes, you are. I can see it now," he interrupted gently,
then shook his head. "But you shouldn't be upset, Anne. I can explain
about Millicent."

"You don't owe me an explanation, Mr. Manning," Anne
replied coolly, though her eyes were a stormy gray. "What you and
Millicent do is no concern of mine. Your private life is none of my
business. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to go to bed. It's late."

"I don't excuse you," Ty said, his voice still low, but
conveying a hint of impatience again. "You're not going to bed until
we've straightened out this misunderstanding. Is that clear?"

Anne couldn't stand much more of his baiting. The storm in
her eyes was threatening to produce a veritable deluge of tears, and
she had far too much pride to cry in front of him. She had to get away.
Clamping her fingers around his large wrists, she tried to push his
hands away. When he wouldn't release her, she exploded. "Take your
hands off me!" she cried sharply, then drew in a swift startled breath
at his reaction. She had never seen him so angry, not even with Jenny,
who could sometimes try the patience of a saint. His eyes glittered
like sapphires, and a muscle ticked forebodingly in his clenched jaw.
Too late she realized his superior physical strength gave him an innate
power over her that she couldn't hope to fight. She began to struggle.
"Ty, please, I'm…"

"Don't push me too far, Anne," he warned, resolutely
drawing her close to him, so close that his muscular thighs pressed
hard on hers. "After making me sit here and wait for you for hours, I
think you owe me something. And I'm about to collect."

"Don't! Ty!" she gasped, as he lowered his head. Wrenching
free with a soft cry of fear, she sped toward the door but never got
there. Cruel fingers clamped her waist, and Ty jerked her into
enfolding arms that tightened with iron hardness around her.

"You won't escape this time," he promised gruffly. "I want
you. You can either give me what I want, or I'll just take it. My
patience's all gone, Anne. You've kept me waiting too long already."

"Please, Ty!" she begged, as his lips grazed the delicate
line of her jaw, then sought her own. His ravishing mouth ruthlessly
possessed hers and she began to struggle desperately. But she wasn't a
person disposed to violence, and since she couldn't force herself to
bite or scratch or kick, he easily overcame her resistance. Had he
continued to be brutal, she could have gone on struggling, but, as it
was, the sudden gentling of his embrace and the tender persuasion of
his hard lips on hers annihilated the defenses she might have built up
against him. Her slight body arched traitorously against the long
length of his, and as he whispered her name and gathered her closer
still, her bare arms slipped up to encircle his neck. Millicent ceased
to exist, as his kiss deepened to an almost intimate exploration. His
lips were demandingly hungry as they captured and possessed the soft
tender shape of hers. His tongue invaded her mouth.

Though Anne never wanted him to stop kissing her, she
trembled as he pulled the pins from her hair, then threaded his fingers
through the loose braid, separating the silken strands. Winding the
golden swathe round one hand, he tilted her head back and trailed hot,
seeking kisses down her creamy neck and along the skin that stretched
tautly over her collarbone. Sparkles of delight danced over her skin as
his mouth explored her.

"Anne, you smell delicious," he muttered huskily, nibbling
the rounded curve of her shoulder with his teeth and running the tip of
his tongue over the delicate contours. "You taste delicious."

"Kiss me," she breathed, urging his mouth back up to hers.
When his lips took hers with marauding swiftness, she moaned softly at
the pleasure his possessive touch evoked. Even when he lowered the back
zipper of her dress and pushed the straps off her shoulders and down
her arms, she made no effort to resist. She only shivered slightly when
cool air caressed her skin as the dress slipped to her feet with a
soft, rustling sound. Ty held her from him, his eyes alight with desire
as his gaze drifted slowly over her slender young body, clad only in a
half-slip and a strapless lace bra.

"Anne, you're lovely," he whispered hoarsely. His teeth
nipped the tender lobe of one ear, as his hands molded her hips and
brought her firmly against his hardening thighs. The hot, demanding
pressure of aroused masculinity seemed to burn her skin through the
thin nylon of her slip, and her legs weakened beneath her. Sensing a
nearly intolerable desire in him, she was suddenly half afraid.

"Ty, I can't," she whispered breathlessly against the
strong brown column of his neck. "I want to, but I… can't."

"It's too late to say no now," he whispered back,
relentless hands roving over her with sweetly persuasive gentleness.

As he reached out and switched off the light, then swept
her up into his arms to carry her to his bed, she was overcome by the
dizzying sensation of anticipation mingling with fear. She could only
cling weakly to his broad shoulders as he pulled back the coverlet and
put her down on the bed. As he slipped his arms from beneath her, he
released the catch of her bra. With evocative slowness, he drew the
sheer wisp of lace away from her skin. In the soft moonlight that
streamed through his window and across the bed, she watched with
half-closed eyes while mahogany-dark hands cupped the ivory fullness of
her breasts. Fever seemed to consume her body and the central throbbing
ache within her peaked to a pulsing emptiness that only he could
assuage. Yet, as he straightened to pull his cream-colored sweater off
over his head and she saw the powerful rippling of muscles beneath his
bronze skin, she uttered a little cry and turned over to press her face
into the pillow.

Tears filled her eyes as the insanity of what was
happening washed over her again. He didn't love her, so she shouldn't
surrender herself to him. She would be courting disaster if she did.
Her relationship with him was not a casual thing to her. In the past
few weeks, her love for him had deepened and strengthened to such an
extent that she knew she couldn't become intimately involved with him,
then shrug off her feelings and forget him when he tired of her later.

She tensed as she felt Ty lower himself onto the bed
beside her, and she trembled violently as he threaded his fingers
through her tousled hair. She couldn't suppress a soft half-sob.

"Anne, don't cry," he coaxed, stroking her hair, then
massaging the tensed muscles of her bare shoulders. "I don't want you
to be afraid of me, and I don't think you really are, are you?"

She shook her head, knowing in that instant that it was
actually herself she feared. Slowly she began to relax beneath his
caressing hands, as they moved expertly over her back, massaging,
stroking, gently demanding the release of her tension. Lean fingers
probed the delicate structure of her spine, sending tremors of sensual
delight throughout her body. As his lips began to follow the path his
fingers had blazed, fire surged through her veins. And, as his mouth
sought the insweeping arch between narrow waist and gently sloping
hips, she forgot everything except the need to be closer to him.

Turning over, she clasped her arms around his neck, and
her lips sought the hard delight of his. The weight of his lean body
pressed her down into the softness of the mattress, and the kisses they
exchanged lengthened and deepened to the dangerous prelude to her
surrender. The lissome, naked strength of his body enveloped her in
warmth beneath him. Anne became intoxicated by the wholly masculine
scent and feel of him. Her small hands shook slightly as they ran over
his broad back, down to lightly touch his lean bare hips.

With a soft groan, he arched her to him, removing her
slip. And then there was only one remaining barrier between them. Yet,
he didn't immediately remove that last barrier. As if he meant to
reassure her, he cupped her face in both hands. His firm mouth covered
hers and moved lazily until her desire was aroused to a fever pitch.
And when he started to slip his fingertips beneath the waistband of her
panties, she didn't tense but breathed a tremulous sigh of sweet
acquiescence.

The hardening response of Ty's lips was echoed throughout
the length of his body. But before another second could pass, there was
a loud thump outside the bungalow.

"What was that?" Anne breathed.

"Maybe a tree branch falling in the forest. I don't know,"
he muttered unevenly. "Anne, don't go all tense on me now, please."

She didn't want to be tense, but the unexpected noise had
suddenly brought an unbidden thought to her mind, a thought she had to
share with him. "But Ty, what if that was Jenny?" she whispered
urgently. "She could be back any time and…"

Muttering beneath his breath, Ty turned over onto his
back, resting one forearm across his eyes. "Blast it, Anne, must you
always be so efficient? Why did you have to remember Jenny at such an
inopportune moment?"

His tone was not teasing and Anne wished, too, that she
didn't have such an efficient memory. "I'm sorry, Ty," she said softly,
brushing her hand across his hair-roughened chest.

Hard fingers stilled hers and he put her hand away from
him. "Go to your room, Anne. Or, Jenny or no Jenny, I'm going to make
love to you. Put on my robe and get into your own bed before I decide
to keep you in mine."

She didn't argue with him. That low, deceptively calm tone
of voice always meant he was serious. Lowering her feet to the floor,
she reached for the terry robe he had left on the back of the chair by
the bed. After wrapping it tightly around her, she hurried out, not
daring to say another word to him.

Five minutes later she was glad she had left him, though
she hadn't wanted to. As she switched out the light in her room, then
slipped between the cool sheets, the sound of Jenny's voice drifted in
from the veranda. A minute or so later, when the younger girl tiptoed
into the bedroom, Anne pretended not to be awake. Actually, however,
sleep was a long time coming. She spent long hours gazing up at the
moonlight-dappled ceiling, wondering how it would have been if she
could have given herself completely to Ty tonight. If they hadn't had
Jenny to consider, she could have still been there with him, in his
bed, in his arms, close to him.

In the office Friday morning after the St. Croix trip,
Anne sat strumming her fingers on her desk, deep in thought. She was
finding Jenny's behavior particularly baffling. Since they had returned
to Alexandria Sunday evening, the younger girl had reverted to her
former rebelliousness, though on St. Croix she had seemed so happy at
times. Anne couldn't understand the difference in her. Still worse,
Anne was relatively certain that Kirt Callen had resumed his phone
calls to Jenny. Anne didn't look forward to telling Ty about that, but
knew she had to. She would tell him this morning and get it over with,
she decided, as she picked up a couple of sharpened pencils and a steno
pad in preparation for the morning's routine dictation.

Before Anne could leave her desk to go to Ty, however, the
door of her office opened and Millicent Beaumont sauntered in,
meticulously chic as always, wearing a sand-colored designer suit and a
red silk blouse. Fashionably thin, she was perfection plus from the top
of her expertly coiffed hair to the tips of her snakeskin pumps.
Actually, she was nearly too perfect, looking as if she had just
stepped from a page in a fashion magazine, Anne thought rather
uncharitably. All the same, she gave Millicent a polite smile as the
willowly woman struck an insouciant pose in front of her desk.

"Hello, Miss Fairfax," Millicent drawled, tucking her
snakeskin clutch purse beneath her arm as she gave a trained smile that
never reached her eyes. "I've missed seeing you at the restaurant
lately, but I suppose you don't miss being a waitress, do you? Such a
boring occupation, I should imagine."

Anne refrained from answering. "May I help you, Mrs.
Beaumont?" she asked instead.

"Oh, I stopped by to see Ty, that's all." With a lazily
limp toss of her hand, Millicent gestured toward the door. "I'll just
go on in."

"I'll just buzz him first," Anne said flatly, but before
she could press the button on the intercom, Millicent was ambling
toward the double doors.

"Never mind, dear," she said condescendingly. "When I saw
Ty last night, he asked me to stop by this morning. He's expecting my
visit."

Anne breathed a disillusioned sigh as the older woman
proceeded into Ty's office without even knocking. Pressing her
fingertips against her forehead, Anne sat back in her chair. So Ty had
been with Millicent last night. She had wondered if that might be the
case, but since he hadn't mentioned where he was going, she had hoped
he was seeing someone else, a business acquaintance perhaps.