Chapter Seven

She opened her eyes to a shaft of midmorning sunlight that streamed across the fluffy blue coverlet, and as her soft brown eyes stared at the ceiling, the memory of Jace’s visit sent tingles of excitement all over her. She threw her legs over the edge of the bed and sat up, staring at the door, her face bright, her eyes brimming with excitement. Jace! Had it really happened? She touched her mouth and looked in the mirror, as if looking for evidence of the kisses he’d pressed against it. There was a faint bruise high on one arm, and she remembered with a thrill of pleasure the blaze of ardor she’d shared with him. It hadn’t been a dream after all. But had he felt the same pleasure she had? Or had it all been something he already regretted in the cold light of day? Would he be different? Would he smile instead of scowl, would he be less antagonistic? Or would he hate her even more…?

She got into jeans and a scoop-necked powder-blue blouse and hurried downstairs, her hair loose and waving around her shoulders, her eyes full of dreams.

It was past ten o’clock, and she hadn’t really expected Jace to be at the breakfast table, but she felt a surge of disappointment anyway when she opened the dining-room door and found only Marguerite and Terry there, Terry looking faintly irritated.

“There you are.” He sighed. “Look, Mandy, you’ll have to handle this account from here on in. Jackson called me a few minutes ago and he doesn’t like the television spot we worked up—says it’s too ‘suggestive.’”

“But his son approved it,” she protested.

“Without his permission, it seems,” Terry grumbled. He gulped down the rest of his coffee and stood up. “Sorry to leave you like this, but if we lose that account we’re in big trouble. It’s the largest one we have—I don’t need to remind you about that.”

“No, of course not. Don’t worry,” she said with a smile, “I can take over here.”

“I never did get to talk to Jace last night.” He grinned back at her. “Maybe you’ll have better luck.” Then he thanked Marguerite for her hospitality, reminded Amanda to call him at the airport when she got into San Antonio after she finished discussing the account, and hurried away to get a cab.

“You don’t sound quite as nervous of Jason as you did,” Marguerite murmured, eyeing her with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “I wonder why?”

Amanda flushed in spite of herself and burst out laughing. “I’ll never tell,” she murmured.

“I thought he’d get around to showing you how upset he’d been,” the older woman remarked as she stirred cream into her hot coffee. “I’ve never seen him like that. By the way,” she added, glancing at Amanda, “I have a delightful surprise for you.”

“What?” Amanda asked, all eyes.

“It will have to wait a little,” came the mysterious reply, with a smile. “Jason’s at the office this morning, but I think he may be in for lunch. Oh, and Duncan’s at the dentist.” She bit back a smile. “Jason loosened two of his caps.”

Marguerite left minutes later for an arts council meeting, and Amanda took advantage of her absence to work on the presentation she planned to make to Jace. She hadn’t much hope of his acceptance. He might enjoy making love to her, but she suspected he had a chauvinistic attitude toward women in business, and she was afraid he wouldn’t even listen to her. It would be just like him.

Her mind kept going back to the things he’d said, to his explanation of the proposition he’d once made her. He’d actually been asking her to marry him all those years before. She sighed, closing her eyes at the thought. To be his wife, to have the right to touch him whenever she wanted, to run to him when he came home at night and throw herself into his arms, to look after him and see that he got enough rest, to plan her life around his, to buy things for him…she might have had all that, if only she’d been mature enough to realize it wasn’t a proposition after all. She’d resented it all these years, and now there was nothing to resent; only something to regret with all her heart. Now she loved him, wanted him, needed him as only a woman could, and he was forever out of reach. He enjoyed the feel of her in his arms. But he still doubted her innocence, and he’d made it very clear he didn’t have marriage in mind anymore. He simply wanted to sleep with her. Because now he had money, and she didn’t. And he’d never be sure if she wanted him or the wealth she’d lost; he wouldn’t take a chance by asking her to marry him again. She knew that.

She was so engrossed in her thoughts that she didn’t hear the phone ring until the maid came and said it was for her.

She lifted the receiver on the phone by the sofa, wondering if Terry could be calling so soon after he’d left.

“Hello?” she murmured hesitantly.

“Hello, yourself,” came Jace’s reply in a voice like brown velvet. “What are you doing?”

“W-working on the ad presentation,” she faltered.

“You don’t sound very confident,” he remarked. “If you don’t believe in your own abilities, honey, how do you expect me to?”

“I do have confidence in the agency,” she returned, her fingers trembling on the cord. “It’s just that…I didn’t expect you to call.”

“Even after this morning?” he asked softly, and laughter rippled into the receiver. “I’ve got some nasty scratches on my back because of you.”

She felt the heat rush into her cheeks as she remembered the way she’d dug her nails into him so hungrily. “It’s your own fault,” she whispered, smiling. “Don’t make me take all the blame.”

“Witch,” he chuckled. “Come down to the office about eleven-thirty. I’ll take you to lunch.”

“I’d like that,” she said softly.

“I know something I’d like better,” he said bluntly.

“You lecherous man,” she teased, feeling somewhat disoriented to hear him talking to her like this.

“Only with you, Miss Carson. You have such a delicious Body…”

“Jace!”

“Don’t worry, it’s not a party line.” He laughed. “And my office is soundproof.”

“Why?” she asked without thinking.

“So the rest of the staff won’t hear the screams when I beat my secretary,” he said matter-of-factly.

She burst out laughing. “Do you treat all your employees like that?”

“Only when they don’t do as they’re told,” he returned. “Don’t be late. I’m sandwiching you in between a board meeting and a civic club luncheon.”

“A luncheon?” she asked. “But you shouldn’t be having lunch with me…”

“I’ll have coffee at the luncheon and tell them I’m on a diet.”

“Nobody will believe that,” she murmured. “Not as streamlined as you are.”

“So you do notice me?”

“You’re very attractive,” she breathed, feeling her face flush again as she murmured the words.

There was a satisfied sound from the other end of the line. “Eleven-thirty. Don’t forget,” he said.

“I won’t,” she promised, and the line went dead.

* * *

She’d never been in the building before. It was a skyscraper in downtown Victoria, huge and imposing, with a fountain and greenery outside and huge trees in pots inside. Jace’s office was on the fifth floor. She took the elevator up and walked across the large expanse of soft cream-colored carpet to his secretary’s massive, littered desk.

“Is Jace…Mr. Whitehall in?” she asked nervously.

The secretary, a tall brunette with soft blue eyes, smiled at her. “Can’t you hear the muffled roar?” she whispered conspiratorially, nodding toward the office, from which the rumble of Jace’s deep angry voice was just audible. “A big real estate deal just fell through at the last minute and now Jace is trying to straighten out the mess. It’s been something or other all morning long. Sorry, I didn’t mean to cry all over you. Do you really want to see him?” she finished with wildly arched eyebrows.

“Oh, yes, I’m very brave,” Amanda promised with a tiny grin.

“Angela, get me the file on the Bronson Corporation,” Jace snapped over the intercom. “And let me know the minute Miss Carson gets here.”

Angela looked at Amanda, who nodded, and spoke into the intercom, “She’s here. Shall I send her in, or does she need something to stand behind?”

“Don’t be cute, Miss Regan,” he said.

She stepped into his office hesitantly, her heart racing, her eyes unsure as conflicting memories tore at her. He didn’t look any different; his face was as hard as usual, his eyes giving nothing away in that narrow gaze that went from the V neck of her amber dress down the full skirt to her long tanned legs and her small feet encased in strappy beige sandals. But last night had seemed to be a turning point for Amanda, and she wondered if Jace really was as untouched by it as he seemed. If last night hadn’t affected him, would he revert to the old antagonism and start taunting her as he had before? She clutched her purse nervously as the secretary smiled at her, winked and closed the door on her way out.

Jace was wearing a deep brown suit with a chocolate striped shirt and complementing tie, and his dark hair was just slightly ruffled, as if he’d been running an impatient hand through it. He looked so vibrantly masculine that she wanted to reach out and touch him, and that response frightened her.

“Thinking of running back out?” he asked quietly.

She shrugged her shoulders and smiled hesitantly. “Your secretary thought I might need a shield.”

“Anyone else might. Not you.” He got up and moved around the desk, his slow, graceful stride holding her gaze until he was standing just in front of her.

“Hi,” she said softly, meeting his eyes with apprehension in her own.

He leaned his hands on either side of her against the door, trapping her, so close that she could feel the warmth of his tall, muscular body, catch the scent of his tangy, expensive cologne.

“Hi,” he murmured, and something new was in his eyes, something she could barely define. Attraction, yes, perhaps even sensual hunger, but there was something else in that silvery gaze, too, and she couldn’t decide exactly what it was.

He reached down and touched his cool, firm lips lightly to hers, drawing back just a breath to watch her.

“Just once,” he murmured, “why don’t you kiss me?”

She caught her breath at the idea of it, and the temptation was too great to resist. She clutched her small purse in one hand and held on to his sleeve with the other, going on tiptoe to press her lips softly against his.

He nipped at her lower lip with his teeth, a tantalizing, soft pressure that made her hungry. “You know what I like,” he murmured under his breath.

She did, and almost without conscious effort, both arms went up around him while she nuzzled his mouth with hers to part his chiseled lips, letting the tip of her tongue trace, lightly, the long, slow curve of his mouth. Against her softness, she could feel the sudden heavy drum of his heart, hear the roughness of his breath.

“Like this, Jason?” she whispered against his mouth.

“Like this,” he murmured, letting his body press her back against the smooth wood of the door, its hard contours fitting themselves expertly to hers. He crushed her soft mouth under his, taking control, the hunger in him almost tangible in the hot, tense silence that followed. A soft, strange sound whispered out of her throat as the madness burned into her mind, her body, and she felt the powerful muscles contract against her, the warmth of his body burning where it touched her in a long, aching caress.

He drew back a breath to look down at her flushed face, her passion-glazed eyes. “Now you know,” he murmured in a husky deep tone.

“Know what?” she murmured blankly.

“Why the room is soundproof.” He chuckled softly.

She flushed, dropping her eyes to his strong brown throat.

“What sweet little noises you make when I make love to you,” he whispered against her forehead, easing the crush of his body. “It’s good between us, Amanda. You’re not a nervous little virgin anymore. You don’t cringe away when I touch you. I like that.”

If only he knew the truth! she thought with a twinge of pain at the words. She knew only what she’d learned from him.

He glanced at the thin gold watch on his wrist. “We’d better go, if you don’t want to be rushed through the first course. I’ve only got an hour.”

“Are you sure you want to…” she began.

He bent and kissed her half-open mouth hard, springing back from the door in the same breath. “I’m sure. Hungry?”

She smiled shyly up at him. “Ravenous,” she murmured.

He chuckled, glancing at her soft, slightly swollen mouth. “What an admission,” he remarked, and laughed outright at the expression on her face. “Come on, honey, let’s go.”

“My lipstick!” she whispered as he started to open the door.

He studied her mouth. “You don’t need it,” he told her. “You’re quite lovely enough without all that paint.”

“That wasn’t what I meant,” she replied, staring up at him. “You’ve got it all over you.”

He reached for his handkerchief, handed it to her and stood watching her intently while she wiped it away from his lips and cheek, his firm hands at her waist making her so nervous she fumbled slightly.

“Now,” she murmured, handing him back the soiled handkerchief. “Your guilty secret is safe with me.”

He chuckled deeply. “You little horror. What makes you think I feel guilty?”

“You didn’t want anyone to see the lipstick,” she reminded him. “I should have let you walk out there like that. It would have been an inspiration to your secretary.”

“She doesn’t kiss me,” he told her.

She tried not to look too pleased. “She’s very pretty,” she murmured.

“Her boyfriend has a black belt in karate and he runs a very reputable newspaper,” he told her.

She couldn’t repress a grin. “Oh.”

“Jealous of me, Mandy?” he asked, opening the door for her.

“Murderously,” she whispered coquettishly, stepping out into the waiting room before he had time to get even.

He took her to a plush restaurant with burgundy carpeting and white linen tablecloths and horseshoe-shaped chairs upholstered with genuine leather. She ordered a chef’s salad, jumping ahead of Jace before he could order for both of them, and he gave her a meaningful glare as he gave his own of steak and potatoes.

“I’m liberated,” she smilingly reminded him when the waitress left.

He glowered at her, leaning back. “So am I. What about it?” he asked.

She laughed at that, her nervous fingers toying with her water glass. “I thought I’d irritated you.”

“Honey, I’ll admit that I think women look better in skirts than they do wearing pants, but I’ll be the first to say that they are every bit as capable in business as men are.”

That got her attention. Her lovely brown eyes opened wide. “I didn’t realize you thought that way.”

“I told you once, Amanda, you’ve never really known me at all,” he remarked quietly.

“So it seems.” She gripped the glass tighter. “Would you let me tell you why I think my ad agency could handle that Florida investment of yours and Duncan’s?” she persisted.

“Go ahead.”

“All right.” She leaned forward on her forearms, watching the lights play on his dark hair. “You’re developing a resort in inland Florida. It doesn’t border on the ocean or the gulf, it isn’t even on a river. It’s near a large lake, though, and it’s in a very picturesque area of central Florida surrounded by citrus groves and some cattle ranching. Why not let us plan a campaign around the retirement concept? It’s in a perfect location,” she went on, noticing the interest he was showing. “There’s peace and quiet, and no resorts or tourist traps nearby to draw hordes of visitors every year. Since you’re incorporating a shopping mall and gardens into the complex, it would be literally a city in itself. People are flocking to Arizona and places farther west than Texas to get sun and year-round peace and quiet along with it. Why not sell them serenity and natural beauty?”

He pursed his chiseled lips. “What kind of advertising did you have in mind?” he asked, and there was no condescension in his tone.

“You’re planning to open the complex in six months, aren’t you?” she asked, and he nodded. “Then this is the perfect time to do some feature material and work up ads for the more sophisticated magazines, those which appeal to an older, financially independent segment of the reading populace. There are two daily newspapers and three large radio stations, plus a weekly newspaper which all impact on the area where the complex is located. We’ll do a multimedia ad campaign targeted to reach all those audiences. Then we’ll get the figures on where the largest number of new Florida residents come from and send brochures to prominent real estate offices in those northern cities. We’ll develop a theme for the complex, a logo, have a grand opening and get the governor or several politicians to make speeches, send invitations to the press, and—”

“Hold it!” He laughed, watching the excitement brighten her eyes. “Can I afford this saturation?”

She named a figure and both his eyebrows went up. “I hardly expected a figure that reasonable from you,” he said bluntly.

Her eyes widened. “Why not?”

He shrugged. “I’ve already been approached by an ad agency out of New York.” His eyes met hers. “The figure they named was several thousand more.”

She snapped her fingers with a sigh. “Oh, drat!” she said with mock irritation.

He chuckled at that, but the smile quickly faded. “Who’d be handling the account, Amanda, you or your…partner?”

“Both of us,” she replied. “Although I have the journalism degree,” she added with a smile, “so I do most of the writing. Terry’s forte is art and layout and mechanicals.”

He blinked. “Mechanicals?”

“For the printer. Press-ready copy.”

“And what if you launch this campaign and I don’t sell condominiums?” he asked matter-of-factly.

“I throw myself under the wheels of your Mercedes while singing, ‘What do I say, dear, after I say I’m sorry.’”

He reached for his drink with a faint smile playing on his chiseled lips.

“Well?” she asked impatiently.

He looked up and met her eye just as the waitress came toward them with a heavily laden tray. “I’ll think about it and let you know at the party at the Sullevans’. Fair enough?”

She sighed. “Fair enough.”

The meal was tantalizing; she hadn’t realized until she started eating how hungry she was. She finished her salad, and refused dessert, lingering over thick, rich coffee while Jace attacked an enormous strawberry shortcake overflowing with fresh whipped cream.

“Calories, calories.” She sighed, hating the sight of the delicious thing.

He smiled at her over his spoon. “I don’t have to watch my waistline. I run it all off.”

“I know. You work all the time.”

“Not all the time,” he reminded her with a pointed glance at her mouth.

She lowered her blushing face to her coffee cup.

* * *

Jace pulled into the parking lot behind the Whitehall building and followed Amanda’s instructions to pull up short just in front of the small compact car she’d borrowed from Marguerite.

“Thank you for lunch,” she said, “and for listening about the account.”

“My pleasure, Miss Carson,” he replied, his eyes searching her face quietly. “We’ll take in a show at the Parisienne tonight. There’s a trio there I think you’ll enjoy, and we can dance.”

Her heart leaped into her throat. “Me?” she whispered.

He leaned over and brushed his mouth tantalizingly against hers in a kiss just brief enough to leave her feeling empty when he drew away.

“You,” he murmured gently. His eyes searched hers. “We’re going to talk tonight.”

“About what?” she asked dazedly.

“About you and me, honey,” he replied curtly, “and where we go from here. After what happened last night, I’m not going to let you run away again.”

“But, Jace—”

“I don’t have the time right now. Out you get, doe-eyes, I’ve got work to do. We’ll talk about it tonight. Wear something sexy,” he added with a wicked grin.

She opened the door and closed it, sticking out her tongue at him. He chuckled, waving as she put her car into gear and roared away.

* * *

Her spirits were soaring as she drove back to Casa Verde. What could Jace want to talk about? Marriage, perhaps? She drifted off into a delightful daydream, seeing herself in white satin and Jace in a tuxedo, standing before a minister in a church with stained-glass windows. If only! To marry Jace, to share his name, his home, his bed, his children…it would be the culmination of every dream she’d ever had. Of course, she reminded herself, he could be about to make a proposition of an altogether different kind. But she didn’t think so. Jace’s eyes had been too intent, his kisses too caring, for it to be only lust that he felt. No, he had something permanent in mind, he must have. Her eyes lit up like candles in dark room. How magical it would be if he loved her, too, if he felt the same devastating excitement that she felt when she was with him, touching him, holding him. Please, let it be, she prayed silently, let it be, let it be!

She pulled up at the entrance of Casa Verde and rushed up the steps, all the dreams shimmering in her eyes as she opened the front door.

“Is that you, dear?” Marguerite called. “In the living room!”

She followed the voice, her mouth open to tell Marguerite what a lovely lunch she’d had with Jason, when she saw the second person in the room.

“See? I told you I had a surprise for you!” Marguerite exclaimed, her dark eyes lighting up merrily.

“Hello, darling,” Beatrice Carson greeted her daughter, rising in a cloud of amber chiffon to float across the room, her blond hair in a high coiffure, her soft brown eyes full of love and laughter.

Amanda allowed herself to be embraced and fussed over, numbly, her mind spinning off into limbo as she realized the problems this was going to create.

Things had been going so beautifully. Jason had been so different. And now Bea was here, and all the lovely dreams were shredding. Jason would think she’d sent for her mother—he’d never believe that Marguerite had done it. He’d be furious, because he hated Amanda’s mother. He always had.

“Well, don’t you want to know why I’m here?” Bea asked in her lovely soft voice.

“Uh, why are you here, Mother?” Amanda asked obligingly.

“I’m getting married, darling! You’re going to have a father!” Bea gushed.

Amanda sat down. She had to. It was too much, too soon. “Married?”

“Yes, darling,” her mother said, sitting down beside her to catch her hands and hold them tightly. Bea’s fingers were cold, and Amanda knew she was nervous. “To Reese Bannon. He asked me two days ago, and I said yes. You’ll like him. He’s a very strong man, very capable, and you can come and stay with us whenever you like.”

“But…why have you come to Casa Verde?” Amanda breathed.

“Marguerite kindly offered to help me pick out my trousseau and plan the wedding,” Bea replied with a beaming smile. “And I knew you’d want to be included as well. It’s going to be a small affair, in Nassau, and we’re having a reception afterward at the house. It’s lovely, dear. He calls it Sea Jewel and it has its own private beach with lots of sea grape trees and poincianas and the water is such an incredible green and blue and aqua all mixed and sparkling…you’ll simply love it!”

“When are you getting married, Mother?” Amanda asked, just beginning to realize that Reese would inherit the responsibility for her mother and her mother’s debts.

“Next week!” Bea sighed. “I wanted more time, but Reese was simply adamant, so I gave in. I’m so excited!”

“Yes, so am I.” Amanda smiled, pressing her mother’s fingers. Bea was such a child, so full of ups and downs, so sparkling bright, like an amber jewel. Amanda couldn’t help loving her, even while she blanched at some of her escapades and spending sprees.

“Mother, about the trousseau…we don’t have very much in the bank…” Amanda began cautiously.

“Oh, I’m buying the trousseau—it’s my wedding gift,” Marguerite said with a happy sigh. “I can’t wait to get started. Bea, we simply must go to Saks tomorrow morning early. There’s so little time…!”

“Yes, indeed,” Bea agreed, and launched into the reception plans.

Amanda sat beside her, listening, smiling now and then at her mother’s exuberance, and only going upstairs when the afternoon had drifted away to change for supper and worry about Jace’s reaction. She had a horrible premonition that he wasn’t going to be at all pleased.

She dressed carefully in a becoming gray skirt with an embroidered pink blouse, noting with pleasure the way it molded her slender body. The fit was perfect, and though the clothes were two years old, they didn’t show it. Amanda took excellent care of her wardrobe, making innovative alterations to keep it up to date. A scarf here, some jewelry there, the addition of a stylish blouse to an old but classic suit made all the difference. Shoes had been a problem at first, but she quickly learned to buy at the end of the season, when prices were slashed. She never bought anything except during sales. She couldn’t afford to.

She was just running a brush through her long hair when there was a slight tap on the door and her mother came in, vividly captivating in a pale pink dress that highlighted her rosy complexion and exquisitely coiffed hair.

“I thought we might go downstairs together,” Bea suggested softly. “I…well, I know Jason doesn’t like me, and he’s much less likely to say something if I’m with you,” she added with a nervous smile. “You haven’t told him about the bull, have you, darling?”

“No, Mother,” Amanda replied soothingly. She put down the brush and hugged her petite mother. “I’m so glad you’ve found someone. I know how lonely you’ve been these last few years.”

“Not so very lonely, my dear,” Bea replied. She touched her daughter’s cheek. “I had you, after all.”

Amanda smiled. “We had each other.”

Bea nodded. She studied her daughter’s face intently. “Marguerite said that you and Jason are…softening toward one another. Is that so?”

Amanda blushed fiercely and turned away. “I’m not sure. I don’t know if he even likes me.”

“Amanda…” Bea bit her lower lip. “Dear, I’ve often wondered if all that arguing between you wasn’t really an indication of something much deeper than dislike. You’ve shied away from Jason for many years. I’d like to think it wasn’t because of my quite ridiculous attitude toward him when you were in your teens. I was a dreadful snob. I only wish I’d realized it at the time, before the damage was done.”

“What damage?”

“Between you and Jace.” Bea studied the carpet. “Amanda, men like Jason Whitehall are very rare creatures. The man’s man isn’t popular these days. Women much prefer softer men who cry and hurt and make mistakes and apologize on bended knee, and that’s all very well, I suppose. It’s a new world, a new generation, with new and better ideas of what life should be.” Her eyes were wistful for a moment. “But men like Jason are a breed apart. They make their own rules and they don’t bend. A woman who’s lucky enough to be loved by a man like that is…blessed.” She drew a long, quiet sigh. “Oh, Mandy, don’t run from him if you love him,” she burst out. “Don’t let the rift I’ve caused between you blind you to Jason’s good qualities. I lost my happiness, but you still have a chance for yours.”

“Mother, I don’t understand what you’re saying,” Amanda whispered blankly.

“You’re such a good girl, my dear,” Bea murmured, her eyes sad and full of vanished dreams. “But it takes so much more than noble intentions with some men…”

“Bea, are you in there?” Marguerite called.

Bea looked faintly irritated. “Yes, dear, we’re coming!” She patted Amanda’s arm. “I’ll try to explain it to you later. I must tell you something, a secret I’ve kept from you. We’ll talk later, all right?”

“Yes, darling,” Amanda replied with a puzzled smile. “Let’s go down.”

* * *

They were sitting in the living room, waiting for dinner to be served, when Jason came in from the office. He looked tired and out of sorts, his silver eyes glittering in a face that showed every day of its age.

He caught sight of Bea as soon as he entered the room, and he seemed to explode.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked the stunned woman. His eyes shot to Amanda’s white face. “A little premature, wasn’t it, calling Mama? I don’t remember making any promises.”

Amanda started to speak, but Bea was quicker. “I invited myself,” she told him, rising like a little blond wraith to face him bravely. “I’m getting married, Jason. I came to invite my daughter to the wedding.”

“Oh, you’re marrying this one?” he asked cuttingly, his eyes openly hating her. “Will you be as faithful to him as you were to that poor damned fool you married last time?”

“Jason, where are your manners?” Marguerite burst out. “Bea’s my friend!”

“Like hell she is,” Jason replied coldly, eyeing Beatrice, and Amanda saw her mother’s face go sheet-white.

“What are you talking about?” Marguerite persisted.

“Ask your…friend,” Jason growled. “She knows, don’t you, Mrs. Carson?” He emphasized the “Mrs.,” making an insult of it.

“Leave my mother alone,” Amanda said, standing. Her eyes fenced with his. “You’ve no right to insult her like that. You don’t know her.”

“Honey, I know more about her than you’d believe,” he replied with a cold smile. “Remind me to tell you one day. It’ll open your eyes.”

“You…you…cowboy!” Amanda threw at him, her lower lip trembling, her eyes bright with tears.

“That sounds more like old times,” he told Amanda, something like a shadow passing over his face. “I like it better when you drop the pretense. I told you once, and I’ll tell you again, you aren’t getting your hands on my money.” He glanced harshly at Bea. “And you might as well send Mama home. I’m not financing her wedding. And neither are you, Mother,” he informed Marguerite coldly. “If you so much as try to buy that well-heeled slut a handkerchief at any department store in town, I’ll close down every account you’ve got.” He turned on his heel and walked out the door, his spine rigid with dislike and temper.

Marguerite threw her arms around Bea. “Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry! I don’t know what’s the matter with him!”

Bea wept like a child, tears running down her cheeks. Amanda put her arms around her, taking her from Marguerite, and held her tight.

“It’s all right, Mama,” she cooed, as she had so many times. “It’s going to be all right.”

But even as she said it, she knew better. Her world was upside down, Jace hated her again, and she only wished she knew why. Could he really hold a grudge so long, from childhood, and hate Beatrice for something she’d said to him years ago? Why did he hate her so passionately! And why in the world did he call her a slut? Heaven knew, Bea might be a lot of things, but that wasn’t one of them. She was so proper, always socially correct. She would never dream of soiling her reputation with an extramarital affair. Amanda rocked Bea gently, her eyes meeting Marguerite’s pained ones over the thin shoulder. Jace could be so cruel. Her eyes closed. How could he say such things after the passion that had burned between them like a wildfire out of control? She’d thought that he might care for her, especially after the New York trip, after the kisses they’d shared. But he hadn’t cared. He didn’t care. And how was she going to protect her fragile mother from his unreasonable hatred? She felt like crying herself. The day had begun with such promise, only to end in desolation.

The three women sat down to supper without Jace, who came back downstairs an hour later dressed in brown slacks, a tweed jacket and a white roll-neck shirt. He walked out of the house without a word, probably on his way to see Tess, Amanda guessed.

“Don’t look so tragic, darling,” Bea said gently, sensing her daughter’s depression. “It will all work out. Things do, you know.”

Amanda tried to smile. “Of course they will,” she agreed numbly.

“I could just strangle my son,” Marguerite said under her breath, stabbing viciously at a piece of steak on her plate. “Of all the colossal gall…!”

“Don’t, dear,” Bea pleaded, touching her friend’s manicured hand lightly. “Jace can’t help the way he feels about me, and there is some justification. After all…” She bit her lip jerkily. “After all,” she tried again with a pained glance at Amanda, “it was I who ran into his bull, not Amanda. She wasn’t even driving.”

Marguerite’s eyes widened. “You? But Amanda said…”

“She was trying to protect me. No.” Bea sighed miserably. “That’s not true. I begged her to protect me. Knowing how Jace dislikes me, I was afraid he’d deny me the hospitality of Casa Verde, so I let poor Amanda take the blame for it all…to my shame,” she finished weakly. Her lovely dark eyes misted with tears as she looked at her shocked daughter. “I know I’ve been a trial to you, my dear. I seem to have walked around in a trance since your…since your father’s death.”

“That doesn’t give Jason the right to call you foul names,” Marguerite interrupted, her own dark eyes blazing. “I think it’s outrageous and as soon as he calms down, I’m going to tell him so.”

Amanda couldn’t help the brief smile that twitched her lips. Marguerite was no braver than she when it came to facing Jace’s fiery temper.

The next day passed in a foggy haze, with Bea and Amanda cautiously keeping close to Marguerite’s side and avoiding Jace as much as possible. He managed to find plenty to keep him busy around the ranch and at his office, but the eyes that occasionally glanced Amanda’s way were icy gray, cold. It was as if that magical night had never happened, as if he’d never touched her with tenderness. And Bea, for all her usual gaiety, seemed crushed, almost guilty. Reese Bannon had promised to wire her the money for her trousseau, despite Marguerite’s protests that she wanted the privilege of buying it. The two older women spent most of the day shopping, while Amanda kept to her room and mourned for what might have been.

Bea and Marguerite went to visit a mutual friend that evening after supper, and Amanda returned to her room to change into slacks and a blouse. When she went back down, wandering out onto the darkened porch to enjoy the cool peace of evening, a movement caught her eye and made her start. She’d reached the big rocking chair at the side of the porch when a quiet figure detached itself from the swing and stood up.

“Don’t run away,” Jace said quietly. “I’m not armed.”

She hated the bitterness in his deep voice. The very sound of it was like an ache in her soul. She could hardly bear to be near him after the harsh accusations he’d made. But she sat down in the huge, bare wood rocker and leaned back. The woven cane made a soft, creaking sound as she began to rock. The sound, combining with the murmur of crickets and frogs, was a wild lullaby in the sweet-scented darkness.

“I didn’t think you’d be at home,” she remarked coolly.

“Obviously, or you’d still be hiding in your room,” he said curtly.

She leaned her head back against the rocking chair, gazing out into the darkness. Jace made her feel like a tightly wound rubber band. She felt as remote from him as the moon when he drew into himself like this.

“You sat out here with me once before on a moonless night,” he remarked suddenly, his voice deep and quiet in the stillness. “Remember, Amanda?”

“The night your father died,” she recalled, feeling again the emptiness of the rooms without Judge Whitehall’s domineering presence, the weeping of Marguerite and Bea…“We didn’t say two words.”

He laughed shortly. “You sat beside me and held my hand. Nothing more than that. No tears or wailing, or promises of comfort. You just sat and held my hand.”

“It was all I could think to do,” she admitted. “I knew how deeply you cared about him…even more than Duncan did, I think. You aren’t an easy man to offer comfort to, Jason. Even then I expected you to freeze me out, or tell me to go away. But you didn’t.”

“Men don’t like being vulnerable, honey, didn’t you know?” he asked in a strangely gentle tone, and she remembered another time when he’d made a similar remark. “I wouldn’t have let anyone else near me that night, Amanda, not even Mother, do you know that? You’ve always managed to get close when I’d have slapped anyone else away.” He shifted. “I’d let you bandage a cut that I wouldn’t let a doctor touch.”

She felt her heart pounding. Watch out, she reminded herself, this is just a game to him, and he’s a master player. Don’t let him hurt you.

She stood up with a jerky motion. “I’d better go in. It’s getting late.”

“Amanda, talk to me!” he growled.

“About what?” she managed tearfully. “About my mother? About myself? We’re sluts, you said so, and you know everything, don’t you, Jason God Almighty Whitehall!”

She turned and ran for the front door, hearing his harsh, muffled curse behind her.

More restless than ever the next morning, Amanda wandered down to the stable to look at a new snowy-white Arabian foal. It brought back memories of the old days on her father’s ranch when she’d spent hours watching the newborn foals, never tiring of their amusing antics. This one was a colt, on wobbly little legs that looked far too long for him.

She was so involved in the sight of the colt and his mother that she didn’t hear the sound of approaching horses’ hooves. She did hear the rapidly nearing footsteps a moment later, though, and turned just in time to see Jace coming down the wide aisle, his booted feet sinking into the fresh, honey-colored woodchips that covered the floor.

He moved with a slow, easy grace that was as much a part of him as that worn black Stetson pulled low on his forehead. She loved the very sight of him, but she turned away from it, hurting all over again at his insults, his rejection.

“All alone?” he asked curtly. “Where’s brother Duncan this morning?”

“At the office,” she said tightly.

“And the others?” he added, refusing to even speak Bea’s name.

“Gone to town shopping.” She glared at him. “And not to spend your money.”

He ignored that, watching the colt. “Not afraid of me, kitten?”

“Or of twenty like you,” she shot back, turning away, too proud to let her very real apprehension show.

She leaned over the stall gate and stared down at the colt, who was suckling his mother. The white mare stood with her ears pricked and alert, watching the humans closely.

Jace moved to the gate beside her, so close that his arm touched hers where it rested on the rough wood, and a sweet, reckless surge of delight filled her.

“Do you still show them?” she asked, hoping to change the subject.

“I don’t have time, honey,” he said, and his voice was no longer angry. “The Johnsons’ daughter enters one or two a year on the horse show circuit, and I’ve got a few trophies from bygone days, but most of my stock is at stud. I let Johnson handle the show circuit. All I do is take credit for the trophies.”

She feathered a glance at him, amazed at the humorous note in his voice. “Who shows you?” she asked lightly, surprising him.

He raised an eyebrow at her and shoved his hat back over his dark, unruly hair. “Daring, aren’t you?”

She shook back her silvery-blond hair until it drifted around her shoulders in a cloud. “I like to live dangerously once in a while,” she agreed.

He flicked her cheek with a lean finger. “Not on my land,” he cautioned. “I wouldn’t want to be responsible for you getting hurt.” He cut a hard gaze down at her, holding her eyes deliberately in a heady silence.

Her lips parted slightly from the shock of it, and his eyes caught the movement, darting to the soft pink mouth with unnerving quickness.

She fought down the longing to move closer to him, to feel his hard body against hers, to tempt his mouth into violence…having experienced the skill of that beautiful mouth, she was unbearably hungry for it. She tore her eyes away from his and struggled to control her quick, unsteady breathing.

“The, uh, the foal is lovely,” she said unsteadily.

He moved closer, coming up behind her to make retreat impossible, his muscular arms resting on the gate on either side of her to imprison her there. His body was warm, and she could feel its heat, smell the tangy cologne he used drifting down into her nostrils.

“Do…you have any more?” she continued when he didn’t answer her.

She felt his breath in her hair. “You smell of wildflowers,” he murmured sensuously.

“It’s my shampoo,” she whispered inanely.

He shifted, bringing her body into slight, maddening contact with his. She could feel his powerful legs touching hers, his broad chest at her shoulder blades.

“How many Arabians do you have now?” she asked in a high, unfamiliar voice.

“Enough,” he murmured, bending to nuzzle aside the hair at her neck and press his warm, open mouth to the quivering tender flesh he found under it.

“Jason!” she gasped involuntarily.

His chest rose and fell heavily against her back. His mouth moved up, nibbling at her ear, her temple. “God, your skin is soft,” he whispered huskily. “Like velvet. Satin.”

Her fingers gripped the gate convulsively while she fought for control and lost. Her throat felt as if there were rocks in it.

Even while she was protesting, her body was melting back against his, yielding instinctively.

His hands moved, gripping her tiny waist painfully.

“Oh, Jason, you mustn’t!” she managed in a hoarse plea. “Not after all the things you’ve said!” she accused, hating him for what he could do to her.

“I don’t give a damn what I said,” he growled in a haunted tone. “I want you so much, I ache with it!”

She struggled, but he whipped her around and pinned her against the gate with the carefully controlled weight of his body. His eyes burned down into hers, his face taut with longing.

Tears of intense emotion welled in the wide brown eyes that pleaded with him. Her soft hands pressed against the unyielding hardness of his chest.

“Are these games really necessary?” he asked curtly. “I know what I do to you. I can feel it. Do you have to pretend? I don’t mind if you’re experienced, damn it—it doesn’t matter!”

She shoved against him furiously, only to find herself helpless in those hurting, powerful hands. “Let me go, Jason Whitehall!” she blurted out. “I’m not experienced, I’m not easy and I’m not pretending!”

His nostrils flared as he held her rigid body. “Do you expect me to believe that? My God, you were wild in my arms, as hungry for it as I was.”

“I don’t sleep around!” she exclaimed.

“Your mother does,” he returned fiercely.

She glared at him. “More of your unfounded slander, cowboy?”

His eyes glittered dangerously. “I found her in my father’s bedroom,” he fired back, contempt in every hard line of his face. “A month before he died. She was still married to that poor, cold fish of a father of yours.”

Her face went stone-white. It was unthinkable that Bea would have behaved like that with Jude Whitehall! He was lying, he had to be! But there wasn’t any trace of deception in his expression. He meant it!

“My mother?” she breathed incredulously.

“Your mother,” he returned coldly. “The only consolation was that no one knew—not Duncan, especially not my mother. But I did,” he added gruffly. “And every time I saw her, I wanted to wring her soft neck!”

She licked her lips, feeling their dryness with a sense of unreality. “It wasn’t because she snubbed you,” she whispered, knowing the truth now.

“No. It was because she was carrying on an affair with my father, and I couldn’t stop it. All I could do was try to protect my mother. I did that, but your mother took years off his life. She robbed us all.”

She lowered her eyelids wearily. It was the last straw. And she had never even suspected!

“And you think I’m like her,” she whispered. “That was why you assumed I was sleeping with Terry.”

“Something like that.” He laughed shortly. “You don’t think it was because I was jealous?”

She shook her head with a bitter little smile. “That would never occur to me.” She drew in a deep, ragged breath. “I’ll pack and leave today.”

His hands tightened, hurting. “Not yet. What about your precious account? Your partner won’t be pleased if you let it slip through your fingers.”

Her eyes flew open, tormented and hurting. “Why don’t you just shoot me?” she asked, tears in her eyes. “You’ve made life hell for me for so long…and Mother and her spending sprees…now you tell me…she was cheating on my father…oh, God, I wish I was dead!”

Panic-stricken, mad with wounded pride and betrayal, she broke away from him with a surge of maniacal strength, and ran outside. Catching sight of Jace’s horse tethered by the door, she vaulted into the saddle before he could stop her. Ignoring his curt command to rein in, she leaned forward, over the silky gray mane, and gave the spirited horse its head, blindly hanging on as they plunged into the nearby forest and kept going.

The animal reacted to its rider’s emotional upheaval by putting on a frantic burst of speed and going too close under a low-hanging limb. Amanda, with some inner warning, looked up through tear-blinded eyes, but she was too late to save herself. The limb came straight at her, and she felt the rough scrape of wood, the jar of impact, just before a numbness sent her plummeting down into a strange darkness.