Elusive Dawn (4 page)

"I don't want to get involved with you," she said flatly.

His smile faded. With obviously forced lightness, he asked, "Is it my breath, or what?"

"Don't be ridiculous." To her astonishment, Robyn found herself choking back a laugh.

"That's better." Clearly approving of the airier atmosphere, he smiled again. "If it isn't my breath," he went on solemnly, "it must be something worse. You don't like the way I dress?"

Beginning to enjoy the exchange, despite the inner voice warning her that every passing moment was involving her more and more with this man, she eyed him
consideringly
.
"You look very nice," she said politely after looking over his slacks and sport shirt.

"Thank you." He inclined his head gravely. "Let's see... Green eyes bother you? I'm told mine are a bit startling."

"To say the least," she murmured, thinking of the curious vividness of his eyes. "No, green eyes don't bother me."

"Not that either, huh?
Well... You don't like my hair?"

"It's a bit shaggy," she pointed out.

"I'll get it cut," he promptly offered.

An uncomfortably clear vision of herself twining her fingers in that dark, slightly shaggy hair flashed through her mind. "No," she muttered. "No, don't get it cut."

"Whatever the lady wants."

The vision had drained her amusement. "What the lady wants," she said quietly, "is for you to leave her alone."

He reached out suddenly, one hand cupping her cheek warmly, and she was surprised to feel a faint tremor in his fingers.

"I can't do that." The words were carefully spaced, emphasized with soft fierceness. "I can't walk away from you, Robyn. And I won't give up what we found together the other night. I don't know what you're afraid of, but I'm not going to give you up. I'll just go on asking until I find out what's wrong."

Bemused by the tingling shock of his touch as well as by his words, Robyn stared up at him for a long moment. She wasn't quite sure how to deal with this man. His determination to go on seeing her in the face of her refusal seemed unshaken. He hadn't even been angry at finding out-how had he found out?-that she was married; he had seemed more hurt because she hadn't told him herself. How strange. In Shane's place, Brian would have been furious.

She swallowed hard. "This is the twentieth century, Shane. 1
don't
have to see anyone I don't want to see."

"Then tell me that." His voice was still softly insistent. "Tell me that you never want to see me again.
Truthfully."

Robyn dropped her gaze. "I-"

"Look at me!" His fingers tightened slightly against her skin. "Look me in the eye, Robyn. I have to know that you're telling me the truth."

"You're not being fair," she accused him unsteadily, looking up once more. His emerald eyes allowed her no escape, holding her own with an intensity that bewildered her. "Shane, please..."

He swore softly beneath his breath and glanced around at the busy store. "This is no place for us to talk. What time does the store close, Robyn?"

"Shane-"

"What time?" He shook his head slowly as he met the appeal in her eyes. "I can't let it end like this, honey. I can't."

Robyn felt her resolve weakening, something in the emerald eyes draining her willpower. "Five," she murmured at last. "The store closes at five."

"I'll pick you up out front," he said.

Robyn again thought she saw relief flicker in his eyes, but she simply nodded weakly. Her nerve endings tingled again as he softly brushed his fingers against her cheek. Then he was striding from the store.

She stared after him for an eternal moment. Catching Janie's questioning glance, she smiled-reassuringly, she hoped. Automatically looking around to make sure she wasn't needed at the moment, she turned and hurried back to her tiny office.

Sitting behind her desk, she watched her hands shake for a good ten minutes.

"Idiot," she muttered, addressing the boxes of books stacked all around her.
"Damned fool.
He races.
Races.
You can't take that again. You know you can't."

Thoughts of racing inevitably brought Brian to mind, and she wondered again at Shane's lack of temper. He hadn't raised his voice once, she remembered. A man worth knowing...

"No," she told the boxes again. "You just miss Brian, that's all."

In spite of herself, she remembered Friday night. She had never felt such grinding need with Brian. She had never felt such a fierce desire, a primitive yearning, to join
herself
to him body and soul. He had never roused in her the feelings she remembered so clearly from her magical night with Shane.

A little desperately, Robyn pushed the thoughts away. She had imagined the depths of those feelings, she told herself firmly. It was only because she'd been so long without Brian.

It was nothing more than that. Never mind the strange shock of recognition she'd felt in that first moment. Never mind the staggering bolt of electricity arcing between green eyes and gold across a crowded room. Never mind the dazed, churning thoughts that had filled her mind, thoughts of fate and destiny and sheer luck. Never mind the sense of utter belonging she'd felt in his arms...

At five o'clock, determinedly hiding her nervousness, she waved good-bye to Janie and locked up the store, realizing even before she looked that Shane was standing behind her. Dropping her keys into her purse, she turned slowly and stared up at him.

"Ready?" he asked, taking her arm and beginning to lead her toward the black Porsche parked by the curb.

"Would it matter if I said no?" she muttered.

"Not a bit," he told her cheerfully, guiding her around to the passenger side of the gleaming car and opening the door for her.

Robyn sighed as she took her place inside and watched him close her door and walk around the car again. His first words when he got into the car caught her off guard.

"How long have you been a widow?"

She found her fingers twining together nervously in her lap.
"A little more than a year."

"And how long have you owned that store?"

"What
is this-twenty questions
?"

"If you like."

She watched his profile as he started the car and pulled out into the stream of rush-hour traffic. "I've owned the store for about three months," she answered finally.

"Did you work while your husband was alive?"

"No," she replied stiffly. She didn't know why, but she felt very uneasy talking to Shane about her marriage.

He shot a glance at her, and his barrage of questions ceased. She was relieved when he began speaking in a casual, friendly tone. "My family owns a wine business in California. My parents began it more than thirty years ago, and Mother still keeps a firm hand on the reins." He chuckled softly. "She keeps threatening to retire and shove everything onto my shoulders, but I don't think it's very likely.
Especially since she violently disapproves of my 'hobby'."

Her relief evaporated. "Your hobby?" she asked politely, already knowing the answer.

"I race stock cars."

"Oh." For the life of her, she couldn't think of anything else to say. Not wanting him to know about her reluctant involvement in racing, she thought it best to betray no knowledge of the sport. He had probably met Brian, and would certainly recognize her married name if she revealed it.

"That's one of the reasons I'm in Florida," he continued cheerfully. "I intend to qualify for Daytona."

Robyn had to change the subject; she couldn't bear to think about racing, let alone talk about it. "Where are we going?" she asked.

He glanced at her again and replied softly, "I know a quiet restaurant nearby. It's a little early for dinner, but we need somewhere to talk. Somewhere public, I think." He seemed to hesitate, then added with outrageous calm, "With other people around, I might- possibly-be able to keep my hands off you."

She felt a flush coat her cheeks in
scarlet,
and her mind spun crazily. Good Lord, but he didn't pull his punches! Never in her life had she met a man like him. Desire, she had been taught, was a very private thing. Abruptly, she remembered her own behavior of Friday night, and her flush deepened. Well, maybe he had good reason to speak so bluntly!

He was laughing softly. "After Friday night, you surely can't doubt that I want you?" That peculiar huskiness was suddenly
back
in his voice, turning the soft question into a caress.

Robyn shifted uneasily on the narrow bucket seat. "I don't want to get involved with you, Shane," she repeated for what felt like the hundredth time.

"Too late now," he responded lightly.

She stared at him, her mind working with the grinding slowness of dry gears. No, it wasn't too late. There was only one reasonable explanation for what had happened on Friday night. The magic, the dreamlike feeling... She had pretended Shane was Brian.

It was the only thing that made sense. Hadn't she failed to ask his name because that would have ruined her dream? Hadn't she wished his green eyes blue?

Almost blindly, she watched Shane pull the powerful little car into a parking place in front of an elegant-looking restaurant.

No, it wasn't too late. All she had to do was tell Shane the truth. He had been a stand-in for a ghost. That should quite effectively destroy his hopes for a relationship between them. She wouldn't have to live in fear again...

Shane switched off the ignition, smiled suddenly, and reached out to cup her cheek in one large, warm hand. "Why so worried?" he asked softly. "It can't be as bad as that, surely!"

Robyn felt his thumb move lightly across her lips, and she fought back a shiver as her body responded wildly to the tiny caress.
It shouldn't be this way!
a
panicked voice inside her head screamed.

Before she could begin to think clearly, he groaned deep in his chest and abruptly leaned across the console, his green eyes gleaming like gems.

"Just let me kiss you," he breathed.

Robyn made no effort to stop him, although the little voice continued to scream warnings. His lips touched hers gently, and a sigh seemed to rise from deep inside her.

With his familiar lion's growl, Shane deepened the kiss, his hand sliding down to encircle her throat. His tongue explored her mouth, taking full advantage of her lack of resistance. His free hand moved suddenly, slipping around her waist and then sliding up to draw her upper body firmly against his across the console.

Robyn lost herself in the warm, drugging feel of his embrace, telling herself silently that there was no danger here-not in a car parked at a restaurant. But she knew there was danger. The problem was that the danger was inside her. She couldn't seem to fight the flood of sensations elicited by his touch.

Her hand lifted of its own volition to touch his lean cheek, needing the fleeting contact for some reason her mind didn't begin to understand.

With an obvious effort, he tore his lips from hers at last, muttering a violent,
"
Damn
sports cars!" He drew slowly away from her, the tautness of his body betraying an impatient restlessness. "Next time I'll drive something without a gear console!"

Coming abruptly to her senses, Robyn stared at him with a surge of panic. What was wrong with her? With every moment that passed, she was becoming more drawn into this man, and it would only hurt more when...

"Don't worry, little witch." He was laughing. "We'll talk first. But you're going to have a hard time keeping me at bay!"

Feeling a sudden, aching sadness mixed with weary relief, she watched him slide out of the car and come around to open her door. She would not, she knew, have to keep him at bay. Once he found out why she'd gone with him that night, he would want to have nothing more to do with her.

He would quite probably hate her.

He helped her from the car, and they silently entered the restaurant. The place was dim and shadowy and nearly deserted at that time of day. They were led to a corner table, and Shane looked inquiringly at Robyn when a waiter approached.

"A drink for now?
We can order later."

She nodded and murmured, "White wine," then watched as Shane relayed their order to the waiter.

As the waiter left, Shane reached across the table to cover her hands with one of his. His smile suddenly faded. He lifted her left hand, frowning. "Take it off," he ordered.

"What?" She stared at him blankly, not understanding.

"When you're with me, you won't wear another man's ring," he told her tautly. "Take it off, Robyn... please."

She hesitated for a moment, then removed the ring and placed it in her purse. She knew the meek obedience was uncharacteristic, but she didn't feel up to making a stand on the subject of her ring-especially as she was already dreading the anger her confession would certainly provoke.

Still holding her left hand with his right, Shane leaned back in his chair and smiled. "That ring threw poor Eric for a loop," he murmured almost to himself.

"Eric?"

He nodded. "Eric.
A friend of mine.
He knew that I was tearing Miami apart to find a raven-haired, golden-eyed witch named Robyn, he just happened to stumble into your bookstore, and you were wearing a wedding ring. He didn't know whether to call me or just to hope I never found you."

"The man with red hair," she murmured, suddenly realizing why the customer had looked so familiar. "He was with you at the party." She flushed as his comment about tearing apart Miami sunk in, and dropped her gaze to the cream-colored tablecloth.

The waiter approached with their wine, and Robyn tried to pull her hand away from Shane's. She was suddenly aware that they must look like new lovers, and the image disturbed her.

But he wouldn't release her hand, holding it firmly as he smiled absently at the waiter. One of his fingers trailed across her palm in a strangely intimate little caress, and Robyn shivered, feeling nerves all through her body prickle to awareness.