Step Into My Parlor (12 page)

She cried out as every muscle tensed and sensation shattered her like a million crystal prisms flung into the sun. He, too, cried out and arched. She could feel his love flow into her.

After a few moments, he let her down, tenderly
washed her, and led her from the shower. His eyes, like sparkling blue diamonds, spoke love to her silently as he dried her with a soft towel.

"My hair is wet," she said. "I
’
ll have to dry it."

"Let me." He wrapped her in a bath towel and passed another gently over her head. After he was dry, he draped a towel around his hips, took her into the bedroom, and set her on a stool. He went back for the hair drier and a brush.

With slow, deliberate strokes, he brushed and dried her hair. Eyes closed, she gave over to the rhythmic delight. When the hum of the drier stopped, she opened her eyes. Spider was looking at her with a strange expression that seemed solemn, sad, and loving all at once. She frowned.

"Darlin
’
"—he took a deep breath—"Vicki called."

Early the next morning, Spider stood outside of Anne's door and raked his fingers through his hair. He hadn't slept a wink last night after she'd torn a strip off him and flounced out of his room. He felt guilty as hell and sick to his stomach with fear. Maybe, he thought, she'd cooled off some by now. He knocked on the door.

"Anne, are you still mad?"

She flung open the door. "Damned right I'm still mad! I can't believe you didn't tell me right away that Vicki called." She charged down the hall, lugging the eel-skin briefcase with her.

Hot on her heels, he said, "But, darlin', I
explained—"

Whirling, she gave him a piercing glare. "I'm tired of your making decisions for me, of your treating me like a fragile flower to be cosseted as if I were a mindless bit of fluff."

"Aw, hell, sugar. I promised I wouldn't do it anymore."

"Yes, but how long will your promise last?" She turned and stalked off?

He grabbed her arm. "Where are you going?"

"To Vicki's, of course."

"I
’
ll go with you."

"You weren't invited. I'm going
alone."

"At least have some breakfast first."

"Vicki asked me to have breakfast with her." She looked down at his hand encircling her upper arm, then glowered up at him. "If you
’ll
excuse me, I have to call a taxi."

He uttered an abrupt expletive and released her. "At least take the Mercedes. I bought it for you to drive." He held out the keys. "Just be careful."

Hesitating for a moment, she snatched them from his hand. 'Thank you. I'm an excellent driver, and
I’ll
take very good care of your car."

"I don't care about the damned car. I care about you. Darlin', please try to understand—"

"Well discuss this later. Vicki's expecting me."

He let her out the door of the Parlor and stood watching as she drove away. The day he had feared had come. Dread tormented him. Big and ugly and black, it squeezed his heart and ate at his gut. He could feel his life begin to unravel, and there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it.

A tall redhead in a green velour jogging suit opened the door of the town house. She frowned.
"Yes?"

Anne looked down at the jeans and sweater she was wearing, patted her blond hair, and grinned. "Don't you recognize me?"

"Anne?"

She laughed. "I'm incognita. My disguise must have worked." Hugging her friend, she said, "Oh, Vicki, I've never been so glad to see anyone in my life. I'm in the world's biggest mess, and I thought you'd never get home."

Vicki pulled her inside. "I'm sorry I wasn't here. One of my most important clients decided to do business while cruising the Caribbean. It played hell with my schedule, but I got a great tan. What's going on with you? Your letter sounded ominous."

While the two curled up on the sofa with coffee, Anne related the events of the past several weeks. When her tale of Preston's duplicity was done, she handed over the briefcase.

Vicki read through the files, then pulled off her reading glasses and tossed them onto the stack of folders on the coffee table. She let out a low whistle. "Heavy stuff. Preston's a real beaut. What do you want to do about it?"

"You're the attorney. I was hoping you would tell me. Obviously, he must be reported to the authorities, but I don't know who to trust. I thought perhaps your father might be able to help."

Vicki unwound her long legs and stood. "Good idea. Pour yourself another cup of coffee and I'll call Dad."

In a few minutes, Vicki was back. She grinned. "I caught him just before he left for a fishing trip. He's going to hop a commuter flight from Dallas and he
’
ll be here in a couple of hours."

"I'm sorry to interrupt his plans."

The redhead laughed. "Are you kidding? Dad's chomping at the bit to get involved. He only retired from his Senate seat because Mom was so ill. He stayed by her side the last few months before she died, but for the past two years, he's been lost without something to do. Oh, he's on the boards of several businesses, but that doesn't fill enough of his time. He misses the activity of Washington. Come on, let's have some breakfast, and you can tell me all about this hunk you're living with."

"How do you know he's a hunk?"

Vicki raised her eyebrow. "Sweetie, every woman in Houston knows who Spider Webb is, and most of them have the hots for him. They watch those crazy commercials of his and lust for his gorgeous body. Lucky girl. I want to hear every delicious detail."

Over breakfast, Anne told her friend about Spider, leaving out most of the delicious details.

Popping a slice of orange into her mouth, Vicki eyed her closely. "You've changed. Not just your appearance—which I like, by the way—but you've got a new spark to your personality. More grit, more life. Is that Spider's doing? Are you in love with him?"

"Sometimes I'm sure I am, and other times I don't know. I
’v
e never met anyone quite like him. For all his macho swaggering, he's the most caring person I've ever known. He makes me laugh and he makes me feel sexy. He's generous and fun and
stimulating, but he can be the most stubborn, overbearing, infuriating—"

Vicki laughed. "It sounds like love to me. How does he feel?"

Anne sighed. "He says he loves me. He's asked me to marry him."

"And?"

Anne fiddled with her spoon, tracing the design of the silver handle while she examined her feelings. "We
c
ome from different worlds. Our backgrounds are just about as far apart as two can be. And we have some problems, primarily over his tendency to be smothering and overprotective. I don't want to turn into the sort of woman my mother was, dependent and little more than an ornament. And I have my gallery In Washington and responsibilities at home to consider."

"Those problems can be worked out if you really love each other."

For the first time, Anne faced her greatest concerns. "I wonder if it is love I feel, a lasting kind of love. Or is it simply an interlude sparked and fed by fear and excitement? And make no mistake, Spider is exciting. One look from him, and I turn into a quivering mass of libido. He rescued me like a dark knight snatching a damsel from the jaws of a dragon. He became my hero. He made me feel things I've never felt before. It's heady, thrilling, deliciously provocative. At the moment. But am I willing to spend the rest of my life living in a pawnshop with a man who only shaves on Saturday? And what about children? What do I want for my children?"

"I think you need some time to decide what's important to you."

Anne met her friend's gaze. "I think you're right."

It was late afternoon when Anne left Vicki and her father. Harmon Chase, a big man with white shaggy eyebrows and a shock of white hair, had arrived on the scene like an avenging angel. The ex-senator, with his sonorous voice and strong sense of justice, was the perfect prototype of the elder statesman.

The three of them had spent hours plotting strategy, and with a few phone calls, Senator Chase had set their plans in motion. A meeting with several high-placed officials was set for the next morning in Washington.

"Now don't you worry about a thing, little lady," the crafty old politician had said as he'd patted her hand. "Well put that rascal Preston Ames where he belongs and clean up a few other rat's nests while we're at it."

With a suitcase borrowed from Vicki in the seat beside her, Anne headed the Mercedes toward the Pawn Parlor.

"Step into my parlor, sweet thing," Turk's mellow voice invited as she came through the door.

Spider was leaning against the gun case talking to Boots and Molly. Anne managed a bright smile and greeted them. Spider, his face a dark mask, looked down at the suitcase she held, then into her eyes. Only a slight tightening of his jaw betrayed any sign of emotion.

She excused herself and started to her room.

Behind her she heard the heavy stride of boots following her down
the hall. She didn't look back
.

Laying the suitcase on the water bed, she turned to face Spider. Lounging against the doorjamb, fingers tucked under his armpits, thick brows drawn into a brooding black slash, he waited.

"Going somewhere?"

She sucked in a deep breath and nodded. "To Washington."

"When?"

"Tonight."

"I'm going with you."

"No." Her voice was almost a whisper. "Vicki and her father are going with me."

"You're not going without me."

"Spider, please understand. This is my decision, something I have to do my way."

"When are you coming back?"

She looked away and busied herself opening the suitcase. "I don't know."

He strode toward her and took her in his arms, holding her tightly to him, laying his cheek on top of her head. "Darlin
’,
I don't want you to go. It scares me to think that you might get hurt. If that slimeball gets wind of your whereabouts, he
’
ll try to get to you. Stay here. You'll be safe with me."

She could feel the strong thumping of his heart, and she almost agreed to stay. Almost.

"Spider, I have to go. I
’
ll never really feel safe until Preston is put away. And I can't allow him to continue blackmailing people and abusing my family's estate. He's a menace to others besides me. You know I'm right."

"If you're determined to go, then I'm going, too."

"Don't you ever listen to me? I don't want you to go. I have to do this on my own." She hesitated a moment, then added, "And everything between us has been so crazy and happened so quickly that I think we need some time apart to sort out our feelings."

His arms tightened around her. "I don't need any time. I know how I feel. Annie, I love you. I've never been any more sure of anything in my life. And I'm afraid that if you go without me, you'll forget about me. You'll start mixing with the high-steppers again and never come back."

An ache, deep and smothering, clutched her. The thought that she might never see him again was almost too much to bear. An impulsive, irrational part of her wanted to ask him to forget about the Pawn Parlor and his friends and come with her. They could live in the big house in Virginia, and she had enough money to last for ten lifetimes of extravagance. But would he be happy doing that? She didn't think so. Could she be happy staying here forever? She honestly didn't
know.

Pulling back, she looked up into his face. Pain shone from the depths of his crystal-blue eyes. She laid her hand on his cheek. "I could never forget you."

His mouth covered hers in a kiss so fervent that every fiber in her body trembled. As his lips continued to take hers with mounting ferocity, he kicked the door shut, and clothes were shed in desperate urgency. He shoved the suitcase to the
floor and laid her on the water bed atop the spread's roses and butterflies.

The aroused tip of her breast shivered, and he took it into his mouth. Fire spread through her as passion flared, burning, blinding.

"You're mine," he said, his voice guttural, husky with emotion. "Mine!"

She answered with a lingering moan, and he captured her in a web of wanting as he touched and laved and kissed her writhing form. His very breath, hot and hard as he groaned her name against desire-stoked skin, set her body blazing until she begged for him.

He plunged into her with a power that launched the bed into great rocking swells. She responded with a demanding rhythm and fierceness that matched his. The roll and pitch of the water bed beneath eager, straining bodies intensified stimulation into an ecstasy of sensation. They rode the great undulating waves as they surged and heaved and broke into a shuddering crest.

When the last shudder was spent, he held her still, murmuring his love for her, dropping tender kisses on her eyes, her nose, her lips. "Come back to me, Annie," he whispered. "Come back to me."