The Man She'll Marry

Tracy stopped pacing when she found herself back in the kitchen facing the wine rack. If she could stop torturing herself, if she could fall asleep…

In the end, she knew there was no hope for her. She reached for a bottle and gave in to the inevitable.

Tracy’s bathroom was as large as some bedrooms she’d slept in. She loved the large, raised marble platform of the bathtub/Jacuzzi that sat beneath the high wall of windows overlooking the lights of San Antonio. Lush potted plants—some in bloom—rested on the marble tile that skirted the tub. Several hung from ceiling hooks overhead and gave the room the feel of outdoors, though the penthouse thermostat kept it all cozy.

She could lie in the tub of hot, churning water, look out at the lights, and drink her glass of wine. Already the churning water soothed her. The wine bottle sat within reach, the flute of wine was poured, but Tracy hadn’t tasted it yet.

There was always a chance that the hot water would do it. The uncommon drowsiness she felt gave her hope, so she waited, trying not to look at the tempting glass or the bottle next to it.

The classical CD that played in the next room was on too low to hear distinctly, but it and the bubbling of the water saved her from silence. She thought she heard the soft chime of her doorbell, but finally dismissed it as imagination.

Tracy didn’t know too many people in San Antonio. She’d never invited anyone up, not even Greg, whom she’d arranged to meet in the lobby before their date last night. She’d never got around to hiring a cleaning lady, and when she ate, she went out somewhere or brought home deli food.

Alone in her private sanctuary, Tracy finally managed to focus her mind on the sound of the water and closed her eyes. Her aching body at last began to feel better as her tension eased. Not even the small distant sounds somewhere in the penthouse made much of an impression. Until the muffled sound of what could only be footfalls alerted her.

Someone was walking down the hall!

Drowsiness made her brain slow to react to the danger. Her body felt heavy and resistant as she tried to rouse herself.

The sound of boot heels on tile made her jerk and grab for a towel. Alarmed, she glanced toward the open door and her heart gave a painful jolt.

Ty Cameron stood in the doorway, his handsome face stern, his vivid blue eyes moving over her as if looking for injury. He advanced on her and Tracy fumbled to cover herself with the towel. Its saturated weight made it difficult to unfold beneath the water.

“Get out!” she shrieked as he reached the marble steps to the Jacuzzi platform.

Ty came to a halt, his gaze going to the wine bottle then to the steam that now whited the mirrors and the lower panel of windows.

“You tryin’ to drink and drown?”

“Get out!” she cried as she shrank away from him as far as the side of the tub allowed. “H-how dare you come in here like this!”

“You might try answering your phone or the door.”

Tracy shook her head adamantly. “You can’t come up here without my permission!”

“Your doorman agreed with me. You looked sick earlier and now you don’t answer the phone or the door. You coulda been in trouble up here.”

“You can see I’m not—get out!” she gritted, so desperate for him to leave that she was on the edge of hysteria.

Ty turned as if to go, but instead pulled open the door of the linen closet and got out a dry towel. He tossed it on the tile that skirted the tub.

“Get dried off and find some clothes. I’ll be waiting in the living room.”

Tracy stared, still shocked by his intrusion. He ordered her around as if he had some right to. He was about to turn away when his gaze caught on the wine flute and bottle. She made a belated move toward both, but Ty leaned over and got them first. His gaze met hers, then dropped to the top of the soaked towel that peeped above the waterline. She could only watch with new horror as his gaze tracked the length of the towel that clung to her body to her thighs.

Tracy couldn’t account for the flush of heat that went through her. Or the electric charge that chased it. Just then, she saw something change in Ty’s harsh gaze. And suddenly, she was so totally petrified of him that her earlier fears about him seemed minuscule.

Ty’s gaze came up to hers and pierced deep. The blue of his eyes seemed to smolder then. Lust. It was as if Ty had only this moment noticed she was female. And she was so utterly vulnerable. Naked and trapped, she had only a soaked towel to hide behind. Ty was big and male and powerful. Unstoppable!

Her racing heart pounded. Unstoppable!

Ty was too big, too strong. He could snap her fragile bones with a careless flick of his hand. He could force on her anything he wanted to. Unstoppable!

“Tracy?” The low timbre of Ty’s voice was oddly gentle. It somehow penetrated her fear and made her aware that she was shaking wildly. Her eyes felt as huge as saucers.

Ty seemed to see something in her then, something that banished the smoldering heat in his eyes. She saw a glimmer of curiosity, but his expression softened so much that she doubted her eyes almost immediately. Was this a trick to put her at ease, to catch her off guard?

It gave her a new shock to realize that the familiar scorn and condemnation she usually saw when Ty looked at her were also gone. That caught her as much by surprise as his sudden lust. Was she imagining all this, especially the soft look he was giving her now?

But oddly, her fear of him was melting. As he straightened, his gaze held hers another heartbeat or two before he turned away. He took the wine and the glass and closed the door solidly on his way out.

CHAPTER THREE

TY HELPED himself to a taste from the wine flute. While he did, he walked into Tracy’s kitchen, saw the wine rack, and glanced around for the trash can. As he’d suspected, there were two empty wine bottles inside, but little trash besides. A glance into her refrigerator told him there wasn’t much to eat. No wonder Tracy was so thin. He put the wine bottle on a shelf and closed the door.

He figured his intrusion might as well be total, so he picked up the kitchen phone extension to call information. He got the number he wanted right away, then punched it in and ordered a delivery. Once he hung up, he carried the wine flute back to the living room and chose a place to sit.

The generous rooms of Tracy’s penthouse were immaculate. Everything was decorated in pristine white, with vivid pastel colors here and there, and tasteful wall decor to give it all life and interest. The effect was classy and feminine and more warm than he would have expected with all the white. The huge armchair he settled into was plush and comfortable.

The time it took Tracy to finish in the bathroom and dress seemed long, but Ty wasn’t displeased with the wait. The nagging instinct that had brought him back to town had annoyed him until he’d walked into her bathroom and seen the wine bottle and steamed up windows. People drank too much and drowned in hot tubs when they either passed out or fell asleep. It might be the same with Jacuzzis.

Tracy had been startled and angry those first moments, but then she’d been frightened. And because he knew she’d surely witnessed the lust that had hit him like a lightning strike, he damned well knew what had frightened her.

No, not frightened. Terrified. She’d been terrified. He couldn’t have mistaken that. Maybe she was nothing like the promiscuous vamp her mother was. It surprised him to realize that he hoped Tracy was as virginal and untouched as she looked.

Tracy fretted over her hair and a light application of makeup. She didn’t pay such rigid attention to those things to attract men, but to camouflage herself. Though the sleek, shoulder-length pageboy haircut and the faint enhancement of cosmetics gave her a natural look, it was somehow a veneer of concealment and a denial of what had happened all those years ago.

The khaki slacks and tailored long-sleeved yellow blouse she chose looked prim and no-nonsense, especially since she’d added a belt to the slacks and buttoned the blouse all the way to the top to help restore her almost obsessive modesty.

A glamorous prude. Her mother called her that and disparaged her for it. But more for being a prude, because whenever Ramona said the word prude, the look in her eyes said hypocrite.

The reminder almost made her lose her nerve to face Ty again. It was bad enough that he’d brashly walked in on her when she was naked in her bath. Now she had to face him with the memory of this new shame between them.

And fear. Ty Cameron was so domineering. There were no obstacles in life for a man like him, nothing that could stop him if he didn’t want to be stopped. Invading her penthouse was proof of that and now her comfortable retreat from the world no longer felt safe.

It shocked her now to remember how safe she’d felt that morning when she’d woke up in his house. The vivid memory slowed her racing heart. And now she realized that although Ty had barged in on her, he hadn’t harmed her.

Despite those terrifying moments when she’d seen lust in his eyes, he’d done nothing about it. He’d ordered her around, taken her wine away, but he’d not touched her nor threatened to. She felt a glimmer of trust toward him then that calmed the agitated flutter of her heart even more.

She hadn’t answered her phone that day or her door, and he’d hinted that he’d come here because he’d been concerned. Though she knew he couldn’t possibly care that much what happened to her, she was deeply affected. It’d been a long time since anyone had shown a speck of concern for what happened to her. The trick would be to not take his concern seriously.

Tracy again checked her appearance in the mirror, took a steadying breath, then started for the living room to get this over with.

Ty thought Tracy looked as crisp and neatly pressed as a picture out of a fashion magazine. She held herself rigidly and had trouble looking him in the eye when she walked into the living room. She didn’t sit down. Instead, she stood behind the sofa that was on the other side of the coffee table from his chair. It was as if she was wary of coming too close and needed to keep a large piece of furniture between them for protection. And that blouse was buttoned up so tight it was a wonder she wasn’t choked.

She looked a lot healthier than she had that morning. Her pale skin was flushed from the heat of her bath and maybe from embarrassment. It had been rude and disrespectful for him to walk in on her bath. He’d had reasons that satisfied him, but he doubted prim little Tracy saw it that way.

And that doubt got his attention. He’d discounted Tracy as being as worthless and immoral as her mother, but it amazed him suddenly to realize that he’d judged Tracy so harshly and written her off so completely. Tracy LeDeux was a lot more complicated than he’d expected, and the more time that passed since he’d first seen her in the nightclub last night, the more he sensed it.