After The Music

“Shh,” he said softly, touching her mouth with one long finger. He wasn’t smiling now. His eyes were darkening, intense. He tossed the towel and ice aside, and framed her oval face in his big, warm hands. They felt callused, as if he used them in hard work, and she felt threatened.

“You mustn’t…”

“We’re cutting a corner or two, that’s all,” he whispered, bending. “You’re very lovely.”

She should move, she should push away! But her hands flattened helplessly on his shirtfront, and she felt hard muscle and warmth against her cold fingers. His breath teased her lips as he poised his mouth over hers.

“No,” she protested weakly and tried to move away.

His hips pressed her into the counter, and the twisting motion of her body provoked a shocking reaction. He drew in a sharp breath, and his fingers tightened on her face. “My God, it’s been years since that’s happened so quickly with a woman,” he said curtly and then his mouth was on hers.

She stiffened, feeling the shock from her head to her toes, which tried to curl up in her high heels as his lips relented. He seemed to feel her uneasiness, her reticence. He drew away and searched her face with odd, puzzled eyes. Then, slowly he lowered his head again and traced her bottom lip with his teeth, slowly, gently in masterful exploration that was years beyond her experience of men. Her fingers clung to the lapels of his jacket and her breath came quickly. She could taste him, the smoky and minty warmth of his mouth doing wild things to her pulse.

“Yes, like that,” he whispered into her slowly parting lips. “A little more, honey…yes. Kiss me back this time. Kiss me…”

He incited her in wild, reckless ways. It was like some wild fantasy, that she could be standing in an intimate embrace, kissing a man whom she’d only just met in a deserted kitchen. He was no ordinary man, either; he was an expert at this; he knew ways of using his mouth that she’d never even imagined.

She gasped as his tongue probed and his mouth demanded. All at once the hunger broke through her natural reserve and she felt warmth spread through her body. A tiny, surprising moan broke from her lips as she went up on tiptoe and gave him her mouth hungrily. Her hands reached up to the thick, cool waves of his hair and she held his head to hers.

“God!” he groaned. His arms lifted her and the room seemed to whirl away. It was the wildest, deepest, hungriest kiss she’d ever shared with a man, and it didn’t seem as if he had any intention of stopping. She should be fighting him. Why couldn’t she fight?

A long minute later, he set her back on her feet and looked down into her wide gray eyes with curiosity and caution. One of his blue eyes narrowed, and a warning bell rang somewhere in her mind, but her body was throbbing wildly and she hardly connected the telltale sign.

“You’re gifted, lady,” he breathed, studying her. “Not very experienced yet, but I can take care of that. Come home with me.”

Her face burned and her lips trembled. “I can’t,” she whispered shakily.

“Why not?” His eyes blazed down at her body.

“I…What about Al?” she began.

He made a rough sound under his breath. “What about him, for God’s sake? Have you got some wild crush on him? You won’t get to first base, I promise you. Al’s bringing that damned rock singer he’s courting. I came because of her, but I can deal with her later.” He touched her cheek gently and seemed oddly hesitant, mistaking her frozen posture for fear instead of the shock it really was. “I won’t hurt you,” he said mildly. “I won’t rush you, either. We can discuss…projects.”

The words began to take affect on her numb brain, and she stared up at him with dawning comprehension.

“Rock singer?”

He looked utterly dangerous, the tender lover suddenly growing cold and businesslike and threatening. “Al’s got himself a new girl. But not for long,” he added on a short laugh. “That’s got nothing to do with you and me. You said you need money—let’s go talk about it.”

“You’re…Hamilton Regan Thorndon the Third,” she said.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Smart lady. Does it make a difference? I told you I had an oil company. Come on, honey, let’s get away from this crowd.” He touched her shoulder lazily, caressingly. “You won’t go away empty-handed, I promise.”

She felt sick all over—sick that she’d let him kiss her, that she’d responded. She felt as her mother must have years ago, but with one major difference: she wasn’t desperate. She’d never be desperate enough, and her kindling eyes told him so. She began to tremble with the force of her anger, her disgust.

“Hey, what is it?” he asked suddenly, frowning.

“You have such a line, Mr. Thorndon the Third,” she said with a voice as cold as ice. Her fists were clenched at her sides as she backed sharply away from him. “‘You won’t go away empty-handed,’” she mimicked.

“How suddenly principled you are, lady,” he said bitterly. “You’re the one who started talking terms right off the bat. Okay, I’m willing. How much?”

Oh, Lord, what a mess she’d made of things. Why hadn’t she said something about the project? Now he thought she was a prostitute! But what a monumental ego he had, she thought, glaring up at him. “You couldn’t afford me,” she told him.

His eyes ran over her body again and this time there was no appreciation in his stare. “You overestimate yourself. I’d say twenty dollars would do it.”

She slapped him. It was completely unpremeditated, without thought, but she wasn’t taking any more insults from this creature, even if he was Al’s brother.

He didn’t even flinch. His cheek turned red, but he simply stared at her with those icy eyes.

“You’ll pay for that,” he said quietly.

“Make me,” she challenged, backing away. “Come on, oil baron, hit me back.” She was beautiful in her fury, silver eyes flashing, black hair flying, body taut and poised and elegant. “I’m not afraid of you.”

His face gave nothing away; his gaze was unblinking and hard. “Who are you?” he asked sternly.

“I’m the tooth fairy,” she said with a mocking smile. “Too bad you didn’t lose any to Mr. Henton. I’ve got a pocketful of quarters.”

She turned, forgetting her ginger ale, and strode out the door and through the house. She was livid by the time she reached the crowded living room.

Al spotted her, moving forward with a glass in his hand. He looked worried and nervous, but when he saw Sabina’s face he looked shocked.

“What happened?”

“Never mind.” She would hate to tell him. “Where’s Mr. Henton?”

“Gone home in a snit, with a broken nose,” he grumbled. “So much for that potential sponsor.” He sighed. “Well, we’ll just have to work on Thorn.”

“Al, about working on your brother…”

A door slammed, and even amid the noise of the guests, she knew who it was and why. She stiffened as Al looked over her shoulder and grinned.

“Well, Beck sure left you a present, didn’t he?” Al chuckled. “Why didn’t you duck?”

“I did,” came a familiar, cold drawl from behind her. “Are you going to introduce me?” he asked, pretending ignorance.

“Sure.” Al placed a casual arm across Sabina’s shoulder and turned her to face the man with the black eye. Al sounded casual, but his arm was tense and trembling a little. “This is Sabina Cane.”

The tall man looked suddenly murderous. “The rock singer?”

“Yes,” Al said defensively.

The man who’d kissed her so passionately not five minutes before glared at Sabina as if he’d like to cut her throat.

“I should have known,” he said with a harsh laugh, ramming one lean hand into his pants pocket. “You look the part.”

She curtsied sweetly. “Thank you, Mr. Thorndon the Third.”

Al glanced from one to the other with open curiosity. “Thorn, there’s something I want to talk to you about,” he said.