After the Music (9 page)

"I have to go to the office for an hour or so," he told his brother impatiently.

"I'll take messages while you're gone," Al promised, struggling not to show his relief.

Thorn glanced from At to Sabina, and closed the door with a muffled slam.

"He hates it." He chuckled. "He hates the whole idea of my not marrying the oil refinery heiress. Well, I'm off. Hold down the fort!"

"Beat him back home. Please," she pleaded.

"Just go to bed and lock your door, and yell through it if he asks where I am," he said. "Tell him I ran out for coffee or back to my house to pick up something."

"Okay. Have fun."

He lifted an eyebrow. "Never fear."

He darted out the door and she sat down, glancing with no interest whatsoever at the screen. Halfway through the movie she cut the machine off, deciding she needed some fresh air. Borrowing a jacket from the hall, she walked out onto the porch.

The ranch was quiet amid the dark, peaceful night. She sat down in one of the oversized rocking chairs and the wicker squeaked pleasantly as she lazily nudged it into motion. She almost went to sleep, drinking in the night sounds, the distant baying of dogs, the singing of crickets. The stars were out and it was a perfect night for lovers. She was glad for Jessica that Al had finally admitted his feelings. She only hoped that they could all keep Thorn in the dark. Of course, once Jessica and Al were married, it would be too late. Thorn would have to accept Jess then.

So this was the oil baron's world. Classical music and quiet nights and open country. He wasn't really the sophisticated cynic she'd first met. She wondered if he'd ever really given in to his emotions, if he'd ever been in love. But that kind of thinking was dangerous, so she let her mind wander, lulled by the sounds of the countryside.

The soft purr of an engine startled her. She peered out into the darkness, trying to see who it was. Al should be coming back any minute. But what if it wasn't Al?

She stood up just as Thorn appeared, taking the steps two at a time. He stopped at the post when he spotted her, his face scowling in the scant light from the windows.

"What are you doing out here alone?" he asked curtly. "Where's Al?"

"He had to run back to town to turn off something at his house."

"What?"

"He didn't say," she returned, fighting to keep calm.

"And he left you here all by yourself, songbird? How thoughtless. Why didn't he carry you off with him?"

She held on to the porch railing to keep from giving over to panic. "I didn't want to ruin his reputation," she said with a coy grin.

"You're engaged, for God's sake," he replied, coming closer. "Aren't you?"

"You were the one who had palpitations at the thought that we might want to share a room," she reminded him.

"I'm old-fashioned that way," he replied, his eyes glittering down at her.

"A strange attitude for a womanizer," she challenged.

He stood looking down at her, not speaking, not moving, and she realized belatedly that they were alone and he was the enemy.

"Family is different," he said after a few moments. "Family matters."

"Which is why you don't want me to belong to it."

"There's no question about your belonging to it, honey. No way am I going to let Al be hooked into marriage with a notorious..."

"Don't you dare call me foul names!" she warned. "I hit you once and I'll do it again. You really know nothing about me," she added.

His blue eyes narrowed. "What do you see in Al?" he asked bluntly.

She shrugged, dropping her eyes. She was still wearing the borrowed, oversized jacket, and her hair was blowing in the chill breeze. "He's gentle," she said finally.

Before she realized what was happening Thorn was looming over her. The dim light from the house cast a strange sheen in his eyes. "I frighten you, don't I?" he asked quietly.

"Yes." She'd never made a habit of lying. Except with that "engagement" to Al, and it was in a good cause.

"Why?" he persisted.

She smiled slowly. Ironic how safe she felt with him, even as her blood raced and her heart pounded and her legs trembled. She was afraid of everything and nothing when he was near. "I don't know," she admitted. "You wouldn't be a reincarnated ax murderer, by any chance?"

His hard mouth softened into a faint smile. "I hate it when you do that," he remarked. "I'm not used to quick-witted women."

"You aren't used to people, are you?" she asked gently. "I mean, you work with them, and you go to board meetings, and there are social obligations. But you keep to yourself, I think."

"I get the same impression about you," he said warily. He leaned against the post and studied her. "A pity you're wrapped up in ribbon and wearing a tag with Al's name on it. I might have given you a run for that money you want so badly."

"Why do you go around with women you have to buy?" she asked bluntly. This man was so different from her stereotyped impression of a rich man. He was hard and cold, but he would never have raised a hand to a woman. She knew that instinctively.

His eyes searched hers. "They don't get very close that way, Sabina," he said quietly.

Watching him light a cigarette she tugged the jacket closer. "I don't know whose this is," she said. "But I didn't want to go all the way upstairs to get my own..."

"It's mine," he said. "I don't mind."

She felt strange wearing it now, though, and she tingled at the thought of it lying against his hard body.

"How old are you, tulip?" he asked.

"Twenty-two," she returned. "Not quite young enough to be your daughter.

"No, not quite," he agreed with a lazy smile. "I was fourteen, my first time."

"Off with an older woman, I'll bet," she murmured demurely.

"She was an old lady of eighteen," he said, his eyes twinkling as she met his gaze. "The most sought-after girl in the school. When my father found out I got a whipping I'll never forget," he recalled. "My father had strong views on morality, and the fact that I was male didn't make one bit of difference to him."

"He didn't want his son to get a reputation for being easy," she teased. The smile faded then as she looked at him, wanting so much to ask about his parents.

"Yes, my mother loved him," he said quietly, reading the question. "But he was a hard man, Sabina. It wasn't easy for him to love. He thought of it as a weakness. In some ways, I can understand how my mother felt. She was a butterfly, always in the thick of society. He was like me. He much preferred the ranch to the city. They were basically incompatible. But that doesn't excuse her actions. He'd be alive today if she'd been faithful to him."

She was remembering her own mother, the pain of each new man, the horrible night when it all ended....

"What was your mother like?" he asked.

"Like yours," she said under her breath. She looked away, pulling the jacket closer. "I don't talk about her, to anyone-"

He lit a cigarette. "Is she why you're still a virgin?"

She nodded. "I don't want that kind of life."

"Are you as passionate with Al as you were with me that night in the kitchen?"

The question startled her. She turned, searching for words. Good heavens, Al had never kissed her at all. She was still trying to come up with some kind of answer when he abruptly tossed the cigarette off the porch and moved toward her.

"No," she said, backing away. "No, Thorn, don't."

"You make my name sound like a benediction," he said in a hot breath. His hands shot out, lean, hurting hands, jerking her against his long, warm body, holding her there even as she struggled. "No, honey," he said in a voice like velvet, stilling her hips. "Don't do that."

She looked up, her hands flat against his chest, her eyes wild, her hair all over her face. "It isn't fair to Al," she said.

"Don't you think I know that?" he said in a grating voice. His eyes were glittering, his face as rigid as steel. His breath came heavily and hard. "I want you," he said huskily. He studied her breasts under the jacket, where they rose and fell with her uneasy breaths. "Are you wearing anything under that top?" he whispered.

"No," she said in a choked whisper. "I'm not."

She felt her knees go weak. Her eyes looked into his and she was lost. Drowning. Her body felt the warmth and power of his. Involuntarily, she brushed against him. Her full lips parted, wanting his mouth.

"I could touch you there," he murmured softly. His lips touched her forehead, open and moist as his hands slid around to her waist.

She trembled as his fingers pressed against her soft skin.

"Has he?" he asked curtly. "Has Al touched you there?"

She swallowed. "He...I'm old-fashioned, too. I've never..."

His mouth moved to her closed eyelids; his tongue tested the length of her lashes. "Untouched," he whispered deeply. "Soft and moon-kissed, and I want you so much, tulip. I've paid for women most of my life, in one way or another. But I've never been the first man." His breath sounded ragged, and the mouth hovering above hers was hard and warm and smoky. His hands were on her rib cage now, and she trembled as the tips of his fingers just brushed the outside edge of her taut breasts.

"This is just the beginning, this hunger. It gets worse." He breathed against her mouth. "I never gave a damn before, but I'm deliberately going to rouse you. I want to watch you. I want to hear those first sweet little gasps of passion when I touch you where no man ever has.

"Thorn..." Her voice broke. She was trembling all over; her hands were buried in his soft white shirt, crumpling it over the wall of his chest. Her eyes were lost in his, and she was more helpless than she'd ever been in her life, completely at his mercy.

He lowered his head, his open mouth touching hers, brushing it with gentle probes that made her own lips part eagerly, so that he could fit them exactly to his.

He was so slow with her, so lazily confident, that she never thought of holding back. His warm, expert mouth pressed her lips apart and his tongue eased inside her mouth, tasting her with a rhythm that built and built and built as his fingers trespassed teasingly under her arms. The smell and feel and touch of him tormented her until finally her breath caught and she moaned, deep in her throat.

He felt her body arch against his thighs and he shifted his dark head to look down at her, at the mouth his had crushed and cherished. Her eyes were wild, shocked, glazed with desire.

"If I touched you now, you'd cry out," he whispered, searching her flushed face.

"Please," she pleaded, hurting, aching for his hands.

"Is it really that bad?" he breathed deeply, fascinated by the expression in her soft eyes. "All right, baby, I'm going to give you what you want."

"So...hungry," she whispered tearfully. "Never...never before..."

"I know," he murmured. His mouth touched her eyelids, closing them. "Shhh. Be still, and I'll be so gentle with you..." His hands were edging under her camisole top while his mouth threatened hers, poised over it. He found the hem and his warm hands slid up her rib cage, slowly, tenderly.

Her body jerked, trying to lift into his hands, but she was trembling like a leaf.

"Sweet," he whispered, shaken by her ardent response. "Oh, God, how sweet! Here, little one..."

He gave her his hands, and she did cry out, a sound that stunned him, shocked him. She threw her head back, her hands pressing against him, her body arched toward him in glorious abandon as waves of pleasure exploded in every cell of her body. His hands were warm and hard and callused, and when they contracted, she almost fainted.

"Thorn," she moaned. "Thorn, it's like fire; it burns, it burns," she whispered.

"God," he breathed reverently, shaken. She was like rose petals in his hands, so soft, so delicate, the skin smooth and warm, the tips hard in his palms. The first time...He took her mouth under his and felt his lips tremble as he kissed her and kissed her and kissed her. He was so far gone that the distant drone of a car only barely got through to him. She smelled of gardenias and his body was in agony with its need of hers.

He lifted his head. Her eyes opened, drowsy with passion, hungry for him. Her mouth...He had to brush it with his, just once more, to savor the honey of her lips.

"It's Al," he said unsteadily. He took a deep, steadying breath and didn't let go of her right away, because she looked weak enough to fold up. "You're a miracle," he whispered. "A miracle. And you're his damn you! Damn you, Sabina!" Crushing her arms under his fingers as the car came closer, he pushed her roughly away and went into the house without another word.

She couldn't face Al, not like this. She ran into the house and down the hall and back into the VCR screening room. Hurriedly, she shoved the tape into the machine and fell into a chair. By the time Al walked in, she'd just barely gotten her nerves steady and her hair smoothed. She didn't want him asking questions. She couldn't have borne having to answer them right now. She was devastated.

"How did it go?" Al asked, sneaking in the room.

"He came back unexpectedly. I couldn't think fast enough. I told him you'd forgotten to turn off something at your house."

"Good girl! So he won't even be suspicious. That was quick thinking." He grinned. "Any problems?"

She shook her head, avoiding his eyes. "Of course not. Well, good night. See you in the morning."

"We'll go riding. At least, it will look that way," he said with a chuckle. "I'm sneaking off one more time, to get the license."

"I'll be a nervous wreck!" she exclaimed, then rushed off without elaborating.

Behind the door of her bedroom, she collapsed. How had Thorn conquered her so easily? If Al hadn't come back...She blushed wildly, hotly, at the thought of where they were headed. She'd wanted him and it had been obvious that he wanted her, too. Her body still pulsed with the pleasure his hands had taught her. Her mouth burned from his kisses. She felt an ache that wouldn't stop. Tears welled up in her eyes. Oh, Jessica, she thought. If you only knew what I'm going through for you!

She turned out the light and went to bed, hoping the days would pass quickly. She was far too vulnerable to Thorn, and she was dubious about her dwindling strength. He could put her in an impossible situation. And what then? What if he went too far and seduced her? He'd promised he wouldn't, but he'd lost control. She'd felt it. He wanted her just as fiercely as she wanted him, and it could happen. That would destroy her. It would ruin her future. Because there could never be another man after Thorn. Never.