The Tawny Gold Man (6 page)

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Anne moved restlessly against the plush covering of the car seat; then her eyes flew open as she felt the car slow down and then stop. Surely they couldn't be home already? They weren't. Andrew had brought the car to a stop on the side of a dark country road. He pulled the hand brake and turned to her, an unfamiliar sheen in his dark eyes.

"Andrew, what—" that was as far as she got, for, without speaking, he pulled her into his arms and cut off her words with his lips.

At first Anne returned his kiss, but within seconds she was struggling against him, her hands pushing at his chest. This wasn't a kiss, this was an assault, and she went cold and unresponsive. Never before had Andrew kissed her in this demanding way and not questioning the feeling of revulsion that swept through her, Anne fought him frantically. Her struggles just seemed to add fuel to his fire and the pressure on her lips grew brutal, his teeth ground against her, bruising her soft mouth. She went stiff when his hand clutched painfully at her breast and in desperation she tore her mouth from his, cried out, "Andrew, have you gone mad? Let me go, please."

His breathing was ragged and uneven, his voice harsh as he released her, flung himself back behind the wheel.

"You don't give an inch, do you Anne?" His voice was heavy with disgust.

Completely bewildered, Anne gasped, "I don't know what you mean."

"Don't you?" He almost snarled at her. "I'm human, Anne, a man. How long did you think I'd be satisfied with cold, chaste little kisses?"

"But—but you never said anything," Anne stammered.

"Good Lord, what do you suppose I was just trying to do? We've been engaged for three months. I need a woman and the woman who has agreed to be my wife has just turned away from me."

Overtired, overwrought, Anne stared at him, stunned. What could have caused this change in him? Not for one minute could she believe in his sudden overwhelming need of her. No, there was more to his about-face than that. But what could it be?

It wasn't until later, when she was safe in her own bed, that Anne realized Andrew had not actually said he needed her. That his exact words had been "I need a woman" not "I need you."

Even though Andrew had apologized after bringing her home, Anne begged off seeing him the following day. His attack—she could not even force herself to think of it as lovemaking—had left her feeling sick and in some way soiled, and for the life of her she could not think why. True, he had been rough, but she was a young woman and although she lacked actual experience, she was aware of the fact that there were times when men did get rough with women. She was going to be Andrew's wife, had known all along there would eventually have to be a physical side to their relationship. So why had she felt that revulsion, that near panic?

Anne spent all day Sunday unconsciously avoiding the answers to her own questions.

Her second week as Jud's assistant followed the same pattern as her first, Jud driving ahead tirelessly, Anne pushing herself to keep up with him. The only difference being that now she had an office of her own. It was there, she had seen it. She kept her handbag in one of her desk drawers but she was rarely ever in it. Also, in open defiance, she now left the building at lunchtime. If Lorna could go out for lunch, she'd asked herself angrily, why couldn't she? Her defiance was wasted on Jud, who merely glanced up when she'd informed him of her decision, smiled, and murmured, "Why not? It'll do you good to stretch your legs, clear out the morning cobwebs," and turned back to his work.

Although Anne had her doubts about the employer/employee status between Jud and Lorna, she observed no evidence to the contrary during the time Lorna was there. Their behavior was always office-procedure correct, her manner toward Anne respectful. Even so Anne breathed a silent sigh of relief when Lorna left the office early Friday afternoon, leaving Donna in possession of her desk.

Andrew called her several times during that week, but Anne put him off pleading either tiredness or work. Both of which were true, for Jud, having finished with the managerial files, had plowed into the mill employees' folders. Anne found herself enclosed in the library with Jud most evenings, folders covering the large desk until, usually around nine thirty, her mother would rescue her with a softly chided, "Jud, really, you can't expect the girl to work all day and all night. Why don't you both come into the living room, relax, and have a nightcap with me?"

Every night Jud's reaction had been the same. He had dismissed Anne at once, declined her mother's offer with a gentle, "Thank you, Margaret, but I want to give this a few more minutes. I would appreciate a drink in here, if you don't mind." He would turn back to his work, giving Anne the impression that both she and her mother were immediately forgotten.

Friday night Anne and Jud were in the middle of a heated, though impersonal, argument concerning company policy on employee vacations when Mrs. Davis knocked quietly on the door and told Anne she was wanted on the phone. As Anne left the room Jud taunted softly, "Hold that last thought, because I'm prepared to destroy it completely."

Anger burning her cheeks, Anne snatched up the receiver and snapped, "Yes, who is it?"

"Hello to you too," Andrew replied, the very coolness of his tone causing the flush to deepen in her cheeks at her bad manners.

"I'm sorry, Andrew," she apologized quickly. "Jud and I were in the middle of an argument and I'm afraid I carried my impatience to the phone."

"You're not still working?" Andrew asked in amazement. "What in the hell is the matter with that man? Is it his goal in life to see you drop in your tracks?"

"Don't be silly," Anne soothed. "I'm sure Jud hasn't the vaguest idea of the number of hours I've put in the last two weeks. As to his wanting to see me drop in my tracks, I doubt he'd notice if I did. He'd probably just step over me and calmly go about the business of finding a new assistant."

Andrew made a very impolite noise at his end, then said, "Not very complimentary to you. Try and break it up soon, will you, darling? We've been invited to a small dinner party at the home of a very important client tomorrow evening and I want you looking your best."

This sounded like the Andrew she knew and Anne wondered if he'd decided to ignore the incident of the previous Saturday.

"Anne?" Andrew's voice nudged.

"Yes, yes, of course. What time should I be ready?"

"We've been invited for pre-dinner drinks at seven thirty, so I'll come for you at seven. Will that be all right?"

"Yes, I'll be ready." Then a little devil inside made her tease. "And I promise I'll try not to disgrace you with my haggard appearance."

The teasing apparently went over his head, for he added, "I should hope not. As I said, this is a very important client."

Seconds later, as Anne cradled the receiver, she asked herself what had happened to Andrew's sense of humor, and realized, with a shock, that she'd never seen much evidence of his having one. Head bent, puzzling at her own lack of perception of the man she'd agreed to marry, Anne started back to the library. She had taken only a few steps when she was brought up short, her eyes encountering a pair of feet, one crossed negligently over the other. Slowly she lifted her head, her eyes following on an angle, long, jean-clad legs to slim hips and waist, a broad chest and shoulders, covered in a loose knit pullover and finally coming to an abrupt stop at two glittering amber eyes, the lids narrowed in amusement.

"Poor baby," Jud crooned softly. "Is the big, bad boss overworking you?"

Breathing deeply in a vain attempt to control her suddenly erratic heartbeats, Anne glared into those odd, feline-like eyes. Instilling a coolness she was far from feeling into her voice, she asked sarcastically, "Do you make a habit of eavesdropping on private conversations?"

Unabashed, unruffled, he leaned lazily against the door frame and allowed his eyes to roam slowly over her. When his eyes paused then fastened intently on her slightly parted lips, Anne had the weird sensation she could actually feel his hard, sardonic mouth touch hers.

Stifling a gasp, she stepped back then stood still again as his soft laughter swirled around her.

"What are you afraid of, Anne?" Jud purred silkily. "You're as nervous as a prudish old maid at her first X-rated film."

Anger lent ice to her tone and covered her breathlessness.

"I am neither afraid nor nervous. I am simply too tired to play at words with you."

"Really? Then you'd better run along to bed, little girl." The purr deepened and slid along her skin like crushed velvet. "Do you want me to come along and tuck you in?"

Out of her league, and aware of it, Anne turned on her heel and started for the stairs, praying her shaky legs would carry her as far as her room. She had placed one foot on the first step when she paused again, her hand gripping the banister, caught in that soft web.

"By the way, Annie, you can rest assured that should I ever find you sprawled at my feet, the last thing I'd ever consider doing would be to step over you."

Anne ran, his soft laughter chasing her all the way to her room. Safely inside, she dropped onto her bed, fighting the sudden, hot sting in her eyes.
 
What is wrong with you?
 
She lashed at herself impatiently.
 
Why do you let him upset you this way? He's deliberately trying to undermine your confidence with his taunts and jibes, and you 're allowing him to succeed by standing by meekly and taking it. Why? Why?

Tired of the questions that seemed to have no answers, Anne undressed and went to bed, resigned to another restless night. It seemed she'd no sooner closed her eyes than they flew open again at the racket filtering into her room from the hall. Her room was flooded with bright, spring sunlight and, glancing at her bedside clock, she was surprised to find she'd slept the clock around. She felt good and a small indulgent smile curved her soft lips as she identified the cause of the upheaval in the hall. Todd and Troy were home for spring break, bringing with them laughter and loud voices and all the attendant noises of youth.

"Cool it, you guys." The sharp command issued from down the hall came from Jud. "Your sister is still asleep and your mother doesn't want her disturbed. It's been a long two weeks."

It was wonderful to have the twins in the house again. Their constant banter, their incessant teasing, their forever dashing in and out, went a long way toward bringing a measure of calm to Anne's frayed nerves.

By Sunday night Anne faced the thought of going back to the office with much more composure than she'd left with on Friday.

She had enjoyed the dinner party she'd gone to with Andrew. And as he had seemed to have made another about-face, becoming once more the Andrew she'd always known, she found herself relaxing with him again.

That week Anne's work load in the office was somewhat lighter as Jud divided his time between the office and the mill, where he was overseeing Todd and Troy's training.

On Good Friday Anne and Jud worked alone in the office, the day being a legal holiday for employees. They worked steadily all day and by late afternoon Anne finally closed the last of the employee folders. Sighing wearily, she straightened and turned, then gave a softly gasped "Oh!" a second before Jud's mouth touched hers in a gentle kiss. It was over almost as soon as it had begun, and yet the havoc it created inside Anne was unbelievably intense.

"What was that for?" Anne whispered.

"That was a little reward for a job well done," Jud whispered back.

"Do—do you reward all your female employees that way?"

"You don't understand," Jud teased. "Your reward will be in your paycheck next week.
The kiss was my reward."

Chapter 6

The weeks flew by. Busy weeks. Exciting weeks. The more Anne saw of Jud's business acumen, the more anxious she became for her brothers. She was way out of depth with Jud. Troy and Todd would have drowned in no time. Grimly she hung on, and yet she was loving every minute of it. Even the quarrels she had with him— and they were frequent—left her feeling tinglingly alive, if mentally exhausted.

By mid-April, one month after Jud took over, Anne faced the knowledge that she could not prevent him from doing what he wished with the company. His mind had absorbed all the information on the mill's management like a well-programmed computer and that, along with his keen judgment of people, seemed to keep him three steps ahead of everyone else.

Anne had hardly been aware that spring had breathed life and growth back into the land until one evening as she drove home from the office. Suddenly it was all around her, the soft green of new grass and leaves, the elusive, sweet fragrance on the mild breeze, and the more mundane fact that she was uncomfortably warm in her suede jacket.

After parking her car Anne skirted around the garage and went into the yard behind the house. Slowly she walked along the flowerbeds, drinking in the scent of hyacinths, gently touching tulip and daffodil petals. After a complete circuit of the beds she sat down on the wrought-iron bench that encircled an old, gnarled apple tree. She had almost missed it, she mused wonderingly. She loved spring and she had almost missed it.

Sighing softly, she leaned her head back. What else had she missed since engaging in this battle of wits with Jud? She could not remember a single discussion she'd had with Andrew lately, or with her mother either. Had anyone mentioned how Troy and Todd were doing in school? She didn't know, hadn't known for weeks. Ever since Jud came home.

Jud.

Without warning tears filled her eyes, overflowed, and ran down her cheeks. Defenseless and vulnerable to the gentle tug of spring, Anne closed her eyes, made no effort to wipe away the tears. In rapid succession images flashed through her mind—Jud prowling the office, the library. Jud, hands on hips, taunting her, mocking her. Jud, gold hair glinting in the sunlight, a blaze of white teeth in a bronze face. Jud, amber eyes gleaming, watching—watching, and yet unable to see.

Jud.

With a small, strangled sob Anne lifted trembling fingers to her lips. He had kissed her on impulse to tease her. That had been weeks ago and still her mouth could taste the sweetness of his, feel its tenderness.

A wave of longing and raw hunger swept through her, washing away all pretense. Her hands covering her face, she sobbed hopelessly. She was in love with him again. No, she had never stopped being in love with him. And she was afraid. Afraid that one day those watching eyes would see and know.

A shudder tore through Anne's body and she sat up straight, eyes wide. The mere idea of Jud finding out how she felt made her go hot then cold. She had been so badly hurt by him ten years ago. She had never really stopped hurting, she admitted to herself now. She could not give him the chance to inflict deeper pain. Now her recurring dream of drowning in Jud's arms made somewhat more sense, for if he got even a hint of how she felt, he'd overwhelm her as surely as the water in her dreams did.

She would have to be very careful. Step lightly and cautiously if she was not to give herself away. It would not be easy. The results of the kiss Jud had dropped playfully onto her lips warned her of that. That meaningless kiss had rocked her world, left her trembling and yes— Anne admitted it—hungry for more. She wanted him and he was not for her.

A bitter smile curved fleetingly across her lips. No, he was not for her. And now, soul bared to herself at last, she identified the disquiet she'd felt every time Jud was out of town, as he was now.

Jud had told her, two weeks ago, that as his familiarization program was over he would spend at least two days a week in his New York office. Her disquiet had begun at that moment and had ballooned in size later that same day, when she overheard his phone call to Lorna informing her of his plans. Jealousy, pure unvarnished jealousy was eating away at her insides. That was the true name of her disquiet.

And he was there now, in New York with Lorna, and the thought of them together was tearing her apart. Visions of them swirled and formed in her mind. The tall, willowy redhead enfolded in Jud's arms, their mouths clinging, bodies entwined—on a bed.

A low moan of pain escaped through her lips and she felt nausea rise in her throat. The sound of her own voice startled her.
Stop it at once,
 
she told herself frantically.
 
How do you expect to get through the coming weeks if you fall apart every time you think of him with her?

He had said that first day, that he planned to stay a few months. One of those months was gone already, and somehow she had to make sure that when he did finally leave for good, he went away no wiser about her love for him than when he arrived.

The very thought of his eventual departure brought a flood of fresh tears to her eyes and she shook all over, as if with an illness. She jumped lo her feet, and hurried toward the house. She had to get a hold on her emotions if she was not to betray herself.

Tears streaming down her face, Anne rushed through the back door, past an astonished Mrs. Davis and along the hall to the stairs. Her mother came out of the living room as Anne reached the stairs and at her ravaged face cried, "Anne, what in the world is wrong? Why are you crying?"

"Nothing, it's nothing," Anne choked. "I'm—I have a blazing migraine. I'll be all right if I can just rest for a while."

Margaret's anxious voice followed her up the stairs.

"But you've never been bothered with mi—

Anne closed her door on her mother's words, stumbled across the room and flung herself onto her bed. Sobbing uncontrollably now, shattered, all defenses gone, she let the storm of weeping have its way.

Later, when the tempest had subsided to an occasional hiccupy sob, Anne lay staring at the ceiling, telling herself she was seven different kinds of a fool, one for each day of the week. And when her bedroom door opened, she didn't bother to turn her head, sure it was her mother.

"What caused the headache, Annie?"

Jud! It couldn't be. He wasn't due back until tomorrow. Gulping down an errant sob, Anne turned shocked eyes to stare at him. He stood by her bed, hands on his hips, every line of his body taut as if held still by a rigid control.

"Who knows what causes a migraine?" Anne hedged. Oh, Lord, just the sight of him was like a blow to her chest. Forcing a coolness she was anything but feeling into her voice, she flipped, "Don't concern yourself, these headaches usually disappear as fast as they appear."

"Can it, Anne," Jud growled. "Your mother informs me you've never had a migraine in your life. So what's caused you to fall apart like this?" His tone went low, fiercely demanding. "Has Andrew said or done anything to upset you?"

Andrew! Anne had the urge to laugh hysterically. Poor Andrew. At no time had Andrew had the power to shatter her in this way. Never had Andrew's nearness set off this chain reaction of breathlessness, trembling, warm flushes, and cold shivers.

Desperate to have him go, Anne shot back icily, "That is a personal question, Jud, and none of your business. You're the boss in the office, not here. Please leave my room. And don't ever come in here again without knocking."

His body went even more taut, his face set into grim, angry lines, and his eyes, through narrowed lids, seemed to glow with a burning intensity. Suddenly he moved, bent over her, and brushed a surprisingly gentle finger across the still damp hollow under her eyes. His voice was a frightening low snarl.

"If he's hurt you, I'll—"

Slim, cold fingers were placed over his lips, cutting off the intended threat. For brief seconds that seemed to stretch into eternity, cloudy gray eyes stared into angry amber.

"Annie."

The hard male lips moved against her fingers as he whispered her name. Tiny electrical shocks ran up her arm and through her chest to set her heart beating in crazy, pulsating thumps. Solid amber was melting to a soft liquid, threatening to absorb her willpower. How very easily she could be lost in their depths. Her fingers moved across his smooth, hard cheek, delighting in the feel of him. His scent, a mixture of spicy aftershave and normal male muskiness, sent her senses spinning. She knew she should not be allowing this intimacy, she just couldn't remember why.

"Chicken."

The whispered word sent a screaming alarm through her mind. He had called her that ten years ago, then he had left her without a word, alone and hurt. How dare he accuse Andrew! She had to get him out of there before she made a complete fool of herself a second time.

Pushing at his chest with her other hand, she rolled away and off the bed on the other side. Eyeing him warily, her breathing ragged, she watched as he straightened slowly, his eyes steady on hers. The width of the bed between them gave her the courage to order, "Go away, Jud. You have no right to be here. I'm going to marry Andrew."

"Are you, chicken?"

Something in the tone of the softly spoken question made her uneasy, as if he knew something she didn't.

"Yes, of course I am." Anne rushed into speech in an effort to negate her unease. "Being left ten percent of the company stock has not tied me to the Cammerons for life. My plans are unchanged. I am going to marry Andrew."

To her amazement Jud stepped back as if she had struck him. Fleetingly a small, bitter smile twisted his mouth then he turned and walked to the door. As he left the room his soft words reached her ears, confusing and, strangely, frightening her.

"I don't think so, honey."

Anne didn't go downstairs for dinner and she refused the tray her mother offered to send up to her. Sitting crosslegged in the center of her bed she stared vacantly at the wall, her mind darting wildly in an effort not to think of Jud.

No luck. Amber eyes seemed to glow inside her head and his soft voice taunted silently.
 
I
 
don't think so. I don't think so.
Why not? Nothing had happened to give Jud the idea the relationship between her and Andrew had changed.

But it had changed! Anne frowned as the realization hit her. The blank look left her face, replaced by one of concentration. How had it changed? Being so busy the last few weeks she had seen little of him, and when they were together, she was tired and preoccupied. And yet it was more than that. Something about Andrew was different. Thinking back, Anne tried to pinpoint exactly when Andrew had changed. Uneasily she remembered that night she'd had to fight him off in the car. But that hadn't been the start of it.  She had felt uncomfortable with him all evening. She cast her mind back further, to when he had left to go out of town before Jud came home. But no, the change had not yet started. He had told her he was sorry he couldn't be with her for the funeral and had kissed her, coolly and unemotionally. No, at that time he had been the Andrew she had always known. So when had the change started?

Then it struck her. Of course! The day he returned from that business trip, the day after Jud came home. Did Jud's return have something to do with the change in him? Surely Andrew didn't feel threatened by Jud. Anne puzzled at the thought a few minutes then a new thought jumped into her mind. Jud's wasn't the only new face at dinner that night. Lorna? A picture of the beautiful redhead formed and with it one of Andrew, a surprisingly animated and attentive Andrew.

Ridiculous, Anne chided herself. Lorna had left weeks ago to go back to the New York office, and the change in Andrew remained. But then, she mused, Andrew had been going out of town on business more than ever before the last few weeks. Could there possibly be a connection? Come to think of it, he hadn't told her where he was going, or why. Could Andrew be interested in Lorna? Was there a man who, having met her, wasn't?

Wrong thought. Anne's mind veered to Jud. Jud, who had just that day come back from the New York office, and Lorna. Were they lovers? Anne moaned softly in protest against the searing pain the thought caused. Uncrossing her legs, she curled up on the bed, head cradled on her arm. Jud and Lorna. Jud with Lorna. Jud making love to Lorna. No. No. No. The pain grew inside as once again her mind filled with pictures of the two of them together.

Dear God, what was she going to do? How was she going to get through the coming weeks working with him in the office, living in the same house? If he came near her, showed even the slightest concern, as he had earlier, she'd fall apart.

She had so desperately wanted to feel his arms around her, have his mouth touch hers. A last, tiny bit of sense had saved her this time. But could she hold off against him if he should come that close again? Did she want to?

Her thoughts revolved around and around, always coming back to the same conclusions. She loved him, she wanted him, and, should he make a determined move toward her, she did not honestly know if she'd even try to repel him.

Andrew was forgotten. Lorna was forgotten. The only thing that remained was the stark realization that should Jud want her for any reason she was his. Anne sighed in defeat.  She was his if he never wanted her.

It was an alarming thought and Anne closed her eyes tightly, giving in to the truth and the torment that truth brought with it.

I
 
love you. I'II always love you.
 
Long-ago words, returning to add to her torment. Anne felt she'd gladly give up another ten years of her life if she could hear those words again, feel the warmth of his body close to hers. Tears of regret slid silently down her cheeks. Why did it have to be Jud? Why couldn't she love Andrew this way?