Animal Instincts (18 page)

“You roared so loudly,” I said, “I think every person staying in this lodge knows you enjoyed yourself.”

He chuckled, easing more of the tension between us, and pulled me into his arms. “Before we got in the plane, you mentioned an inner Tigress. I’ve been dying to question you all day.”

A topic I could handle. “What do you want to know?”

“What exactly
is
it?”

I shrugged. “A Tigress is the part of a woman that is strong, self-assured and brave, able to do anything, say anything and always come out the winner. And—” I leaned toward him, lifted my hand and tapped him on the end of his nose “—a Tigress isn’t particularly fond of Tigers.”

“Hmm…” He took my fingers and kissed them, sucking them one at a time into the wet heat of his mouth. “Is there anything a Tiger can do to gain favor with a Tigress?”

As a delicious shiver ribboned through me, and even with the condom thing looming over my head, I knew I’d let him take me again. Like I’d realized in the bathroom, I didn’t worry about anything but pleasure when he was inside me. Not emotions, not consequences.

“There is
one
thing,” I said.

His dark brows slashed together. “And what’s that?”

“He has to obey her every command.”

Royce’s deep, rich laughter echoed off the walls. “C’mere, kitty, kitty, and give me a command.”

I leaned toward him, saying huskily, “You’re going to let me kiss you right here.” My fingers circled his cock. “And then you’re going to pleasure me until I’m incoherent. You’re going to pleasure me until I’m so sated I can no longer move.” No longer think or worry.

“As a dedicated patron of the animal arts,” he said, cupping my jaw, “I consider it a matter of pride to heed such a command.”

We met in the middle. Our lips meshed together and our tongues collided. All worries forgotten. He tasted so good, like passion and heat and forbidden desire. My hands slid up his chest, the hard strength of his muscles covered by velvet-smooth skin.

When his lips moved away from my mouth, he placed a wet, hot caress along my jaw. “I really like this Tigress thing.”

“You’re about to like it even more.” I inched my way down his body and took him in my mouth. He was big, very big, and my jaw stretched wide to accommodate him. I sucked him up and down, loving the heat and feel of him.

“Shit,” he growled. “I’m going to come.”

“Meeeooow,” I said, a hint of wickedness in the undertones, then swallowed the taste of him.

A
N HOUR LATER, WE HADN’T MOVED
from the bed. Rumpled linens had sprung from their corners and fit untidily around us. After two more rounds of intense sex, I didn’t have the strength to race to the bathroom and have another mini-panic attack. I liked where I was, and even though that still scared me, I wasn’t moving.

I’d allow myself tonight. Nothing more. Tomorrow I’d fight my attraction to him.
Tomorrow
I’d worry about possible consequences.

“I know you’ve told me you don’t want to get married,” Royce said, cutting through the silence.

He was lying on his back, hands propped behind his head. I was curled beside him, arms splayed over his chest. Every muscle in my body tensed at his
words. If that was the beginning of our next conversation, I needed to seriously reconsider my decision not to move from the bed.

“But…” He hesitated here. “Did tonight change your mind?”

I tried not to cringe, tried not to scream in horror. I couldn’t handle this, not right now. I’d told Kera and Mel this would happen. Damn it! Why couldn’t he have waited until tomorrow?

When I didn’t answer, he rolled over and braced himself on his elbows. He gazed down at me. “I want to marry you. You know that.”

“I told you before, marriage is not for me.”

Slowly he eased off the bed. “Tonight didn’t change your mind?”

“No.”

“We’re amazing together.” He tangled a hand in his hair. “You can’t deny that.”

“Maybe not.” Despite the renewed roaring in my ears, the new bout of dizziness in my head, and the sick, cramping feeling in the pit of my stomach, I managed to remain calm. “But I’m never going to change my mind. Not for any reason.”

He leapt into a fast back-and-forth pace, and his muscles rippled beneath his skin with every movement. “Have you already forgotten the way you clung to me, the way you moved beneath me and screamed my name?”

“Just because we had sex,” I told him, “doesn’t mean we need to—you know.” I didn’t even want to say the word. It was as foul to me as the
B
word. My
heart was already pounding against my ribs and the ringing in my ears was growing louder.

“What do you have against marriage?”

Everything. “It’s not for me, that’s all.”

“It could be.” He softened his voice; even his gaze softened as he stopped and regarded me. “We’re perfect together, sweetheart.”

I tried not to shudder. “No. I’m sorry.”

“Help me understand.” His pacing renewed. Step by step, his feet sunk into the plush rose-colored carpet. And step by step it was clear his determination intensified. “Help me understand what’s brought you to this point. Please.”

The ringing reached a fevered pitch, and my next words exploded from my mouth. I couldn’t stop them. “You really want to know? Well, here it is. My ex-husband didn’t get the memo about fidelity. He preferred other women, and lots of them. He professed to love me while he nailed everything that breathed. Maybe I could have written that off as Richard’s depraved moral character and the fact that he’s a male whore, but I can’t write off my stepdad. He’s a decent, hardworking guy and he’s cheating on my mom. I will never willingly give my heart to another man only to have it thrown back in my face. How’s that for an answer?”

By the time I finished, I was huffing. My hands were shaking. And Royce wore an expression of utter shock. I tried to calm myself down with a few deep breaths, tried to picture myself in my meadow of happiness.

A bit more rationally, I added, “I need to leave now. I need to be alone.”

“You’re staying here, Naomi.” He ran a hand down his face. “Even if I have to lock you in the bathroom.”

“Royce—”

He shook his head, his features dark and fierce. “You’re going to hear me out. I’m not your ex, okay. I’ve never cheated on a woman, and I swear to you now I never will. I know what I want, and I want you. And, baby, you’d better understand now that I can be ruthless when it comes to getting what I want.”

I threw my hands in the air. “There’s nothing special about me.” Why couldn’t he understand that?

The distant rustle of wind sliced through the sudden silence. A thin layer of mist clouded the unadorned window. The mountainous landscape just beyond our room looked as harsh as Royce’s face.

“Nothing special about you?” He stalked to that very window, gazing out at that very scenery. “Honey, I told you how you affected me at that party. And when you stepped into my office that first day, everything inside me went on alert. Your hair was messy, you had a streak of dirt on your face and when you sat down I saw the scrapes on your knees. And you know what? I’d never seen anything more beautiful. One glance at your lips, and I knew I had to have them all over me.”

My cheeks reddened and I swallowed the lump in my throat. “You’re just saying that because you’re desperate to get married.”

“You’ve said that before. I didn’t answer you fully then, but I will now. I want to get married, yes, and I
want a family. I want to belong to a woman and for her to belong to me. I want a woman to come home to—the same woman every night. I want our children running through our house. I want to know I have a partner who only wants the best for me, who will love me through everything. I want that with you. It’s always been you.”

The beauty of his words was shattering, and something lurched inside me at the happily-ever-after he described. Something that had nothing to do with panic, nothing to do with my hatred of marriage. “You’ve received thousands of applications. What if your Miss Right is in the stack, waiting for you? What if you find her after you’ve committed yourself to me?” I asked, softly speaking one of my deepest fears.

“I threw all the applications away the day you came into my office.”

“But—”

“No buts. My mother ran the story. We were arguing, again, about my lack of dating. She said you obviously weren’t interested in me and decided to introduce me to women who
were
available. I refused to date any of the applicants, and even talked her into having a birthday party with you as the planner.” Royce turned toward me, his gaze clashing and locking with mine. “There’s no other woman who has your spirit, Naomi. Your humor. Your ability to set me on fire.”

I covered my face with my hands. If he’d said this to me six years ago, I would have caved. I would have been all over him. Now, I bore too many scars.

I couldn’t give Royce what he wanted. I just couldn’t put my heart on the line like that. The thought of permanent, legal ties made me nauseous. I wasn’t ready. Hell, I might never be ready.

“I’m sorry, Royce, but my answer is still no.”

E
VEN THOUGH
R
OYCE SLEPT
in another hotel room, I tossed and turned all night, confident I’d made the right choice one minute, hating myself for making the wrong choice the next. I was so confused. Maybe I’d acted hastily. Maybe I shouldn’t have told him no so quickly.

I wanted to be with him sexually—truth. I didn’t want to see him ever again—truth. When I looked at him, I melted inside—truth. At the same time, when I looked at him, I panicked—again, truth.

Would he agree to a phone relationship, maybe?

I discarded that idea as quickly as it formed. His voice was as sexy and mesmerizing as the man himself. Maybe I just needed to kick him out of my life for good, party be damned.

Great, now I wanted to cry.

When subtle, golden rays of sunlight peeked through the window, I gave up trying to rest and lumbered out of bed. This was exactly why I hadn’t wanted to get involved with him in the first place. I hated the confusion, the insecurity.

I took a much needed shower, lingering in the steamy water, allowing the wet heat to relax me. Afterward, I dried my hair, brushed my teeth and dressed in my new black pants with ivy and flowers sewn in the seam and a matching blouse.

To my surprise, Royce was waiting in my room when I emerged from the bathroom. He sat in the cushy recliner, watching the news on TV. I stilled, my heartbeat picking up its pace. He looked delicious. His deep tan was displayed perfectly by the black pants and shirt he wore.

Now that I knew exactly what was under those clothes, I found myself picturing his hard, tanned muscles bunching, coiled and ready for my touch.

“Are you ready?” he asked, barely sparing me a glance. His cold, hard expression cut me deeply, but I should have been prepared for it. Should have been glad for it.

“Yes.”

“We still need to drive to the cabin. We’ll look around, then fly home.”

“Just let me get my things.” I turned, went to the divan and lifted my bag. Then I followed him out the door, my gaze boring into his back. Did he hate me?

We stayed at the cabin for less than an hour before driving to the airport. The plane ride home passed in agonizing slowness. Neither of us spoke. I sat still, eyes closed, not wanting to face Royce or the land so far below. At that point, I wasn’t sure what would have been better. Crashing and dying or carrying on a conversation with Royce.

After we landed, he drove to my apartment building. The same uneasy silence filled the car. I hated it. We’d been so comfortable with each other before, and I already missed that. Had he decided that I wasn’t the right woman for him after all? My hands tightened into fists, the thought not sitting well with me.

Yes, I realized how contradictory my thoughts were, how silly I was acting, but I had no control over my emotions. I had no control over the way this man made me feel. I constantly swung to both sides of the pendulum: I wanted him, I didn’t. I needed him, I didn’t. One part of me constantly battled the other.

When his luxury sedan came to a stop just outside my apartment, he removed the key from the ignition. “I’ll help you inside.”

“That isn’t necessary,” I told him, deciding to get as far away from him as possible so I could think about all that had happened. “I can get myself in.”

“I’ll carry your bag.”

“I told you, I can get myself in.”

He frowned. “Let me do this, Naomi.”

“Fine.”

I held my head high as I emerged from the car. And even as I unlocked the front door, I kept up the casual facade of a woman who cared about nothing more important than the weather.

When the lock clicked, Royce leaned forward. His chest brushed my back as he held the door open and out of my way. I stepped inside, away from him, and turned, blocking any move he might make to come inside.

“If you’ll set my bag down,” I said primly, “I’ll get it the rest of the way in.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I don’t know what gave you the idea that I’d let a woman of mine leave me outside without any kind of goodbye, but I assure you, it’s the wrong idea.”

My heart skipped a beat, and I opened my mouth to respond. No sound emerged.

“We’re not finished, sweetheart, and you can’t get rid of me so easily. If you think you can shove me aside because you’re afraid of the past and the future, you need to readjust your thinking. And I’m more than willing to help you with that.”

“H-how?” I didn’t know what else to say.

He shrugged and leaned in a little closer to me. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

I gulped. His words were innocent, but his tone was so suggestively sensual a tremor swept through me.

“Right now,” he said, “there are some things I
need to discuss with you. We can have the discussion out here, for all your neighbors to hear, or you can invite me in.”

The man was simply too tempting, a smooth talker who could easily charm me out of my clothes. “I can’t let you in.”

He took a step closer to me. “I don’t have a single qualm about making a scene guaranteed to keep your neighbors entertained for weeks. Who knows? Maybe the
Tattler
wants to snap another picture of you.”

“You wouldn’t,” I gasped.

“Try me.”

There was a hard edge of determination to him that I’d only seen a few times before. Yeah, he’d do whatever was necessary to get inside. I moved out of his way. He brushed past me and set my bags beside the couch. He plopped down on the oversize cushions and motioned for me to take the space next to him.

I ignored his gesture and stood off to the side. One whiff of him and I might crumble like a condemned house. Before he could speak, I said, “I don’t think we should discuss last night. It would be best if we just pretended it never happened.”

“Maybe you can do that, sweetheart, but I’ll never forget how you screamed my name so many times.”

“Perhaps we should stop working together, as well,” I continued, as if I hadn’t heard him. I needed the money, yes, but I needed my sanity more. “I can put together a list of planners suited to y—”

He cut me off. “You agreed to help me with this, Naomi. Quit and I’ll sue you for breach of contract.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Why don’t you go ahead and try it. We never signed a contract.”

“You don’t really want to fight me on this. I can be a bastard when I have to be.”

“Like that’s news,” I muttered. If I were honest, though, I was immensely relieved he hadn’t taken me up on my offer. I don’t know why I’d even suggested it. The thought of never seeing him again rocked me to the core. In a horrible, horrible way.

“By the way,” he drew out. “I want to know if you’re pregnant.”

I shook my head, trying to block out the
P
word and ensuing thoughts of the
M
and
B
words. “I’m not.”

“You can’t be sure.”

“I’m just not, I tell you.” But what if I was? A little thrill worked its way through me, the same kind of thrill I’d ignored last night, giving precedence to my panic and fear. I might not be ready for the
M
word, but the thought of the
B
word, a baby—there, I’d thought it—didn’t make me panic nearly as much for some reason.

The thought of having Royce’s baby suddenly made me feel all warm and tingly. God knows when I’d know for sure. My periods had always been irregular.

“Are you psychic?” he asked.

“I’ve been known to correctly guess the future,” I lied.

He rolled his eyes. “Your voice got higher. You really need to work on your bluffing skills.”

I stomped my foot and slitted my gaze at him. “Damn it—”

“You
will
let me know if—”

“—I told you—”

“—you’re pregnant because I—”

“—I’m not—”

“—have a right to know.”

“—pregnant.”

He stared me down, and long minutes passed in silence.

“Fine,” I finally said. “Yes. I’ll tell you.” Maybe.

Before I could protest, he rose and placed a hard kiss on my forehead. My lips puckered of their own accord, hoping he’d kiss them, too. “You still work for me, Naomi. I won’t let you quit.”

“Fine,” I said again. “I won’t quit.”

“I’m not leaving until I have your word.”

“I said okay, and I meant it. On both counts.” Making a shooing motion with my hands, I said, “Now leave. I need to unpack.”

“Tell me truthfully, first. Did you enjoy being with me?”

“I guess,” I grudgingly admitted.

“And you’d like to be with me again?”

Damn him. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean—”

“Yes,” he said smugly. “It does.” He strode out the door with a smile on his face, all hints of his dark mood gone.

What the hell kind of lame-ass Tigress was I? I
couldn’t lie worth a damn, and I hadn’t told Royce to get the hell out of my life.

I decided to order a pizza and call it a day.

I
GORGED MYSELF ON PIZZA
and worked on Mrs. Powell’s party invitations. Which, I had to admit, were pretty amazing. I’d decided to go with something new, something different. The top portion featured a woman’s bright emerald eyes, a paste-on jewel between them, and covering what would have been her nose and mouth but was actually the wording was a thin, wispy pink veil.

Sometimes I amazed myself.

When that was done, I had a long chat with my inner Tigress about her too frequent disappearing acts, then threw pepperonis at the old newspaper article about Royce that I’d saved, and decided I might—would probably—was destined to—sleep with Royce again. He was right, damn him. We weren’t done.

I had needs. He had needs. I’d had a taste of him, and like an addict, I wanted more. Already. He was
that
potent. I’d just have to fight harder to keep my emotions under control—and
his
emotions, as well.

I sighed.

It was time to call my mom. I’d keep it casual. See how things were going. What I really wanted to know was what Jonathan was up to. I picked up the phone and dialed.

She answered on the second ring. “Hello.”

I jumped right into the conversation as if she’d said,
What can I help you with, Naomi?
“Tell me what
Jonathan’s been up to these last two days.” How was that for casual?

“Darling,” she said with a nervous laugh, “now isn’t a good time.”

“Is he in the room?”

“Well, yes.”

“Move to another room or talk in code.”

Pause. Several moments passed in silence. Then I heard, “Where are you going, Gloria?”

More nervous laughter. “I have to change my tampon, dear.”

Dead silence. “Uh, take your time,” Jonathan said.

“All right,” she whispered a few seconds later. “I’m in the bathroom.”

“Please tell me you weren’t telling the truth. That you’re only in there to talk to me privately.”

“What do you think? I’ve already gone through menopause, silly. I doubt your stepdad will recall that fact, stupid man.” With barely a breath, she continued more sternly, “Have you been screening your calls, young lady, because I’ve called and I’ve called and you haven’t answered.”

“Mom, concentrate. Tell me about Dr. Johnnie.”

She tsk-tsked with her tongue. “Last night he came in three hours late.” Her voice shook with the force of her frustration and disenchantment, and I actually thought I
heard
tears in the undercurrents. “He told me a client needed extra therapy. Well, obviously that client likes to rub gardenia-scented massage oil on his—”

“Information overload. Stop right there. Did you say anything to him?”

“No. I didn’t know what to say. I came close to punching him in the nose, though.”

“The action of a true Tigress,” I said. “Why didn’t you?”

“I keep thinking that I’m blowing this all out of proportion. What if he really was working late with a patient? He’s not like your father. He’s really not.”

Had I sounded like this at one time? Had I sounded so needy and sad and hopeful? So wrong? “Don’t lie to yourself.” I purposely made my tone hard and unflinching. “You’re a better woman than that.”

“Did…did you find anything when you were here?”

I hadn’t wanted to tell her anything until I had solid proof, but she needed to know something was going on, that her first instincts were correct. “I found pictures in his desk. Pictures of a woman and child.”

“Oh, is that all?” My mom exhaled a deep sigh of relief.

“Is that all? Uh, hello. Can you say secret lover and illegitimate child? What do you mean, is that all?”

“I wanted to tell you about this,” she hedged, “but Jonathan didn’t think it would be a good idea.”

My confusion soared. I gazed up at the ceiling, hoping for a little divine intervention. “Tell me what?”

“A few months ago, Jonathan learned he has a daughter and that daughter has a daughter of her own. She’s been searching for him, isn’t that neat? He didn’t want you to think you were being replaced in his life, so we didn’t mention it.”

Okay, I totally hadn’t expected to hear that. “That’s…wonderful,” I said. “I’m happy for him.” And I was. Still, a hint of jealousy swept through me. Jonathan was my stepdad, but he was the only father I’d ever really accepted and I didn’t like the thought of sharing him with another woman, no matter how much I hated him at the moment.

What was with my emotions lately? They were unpredictable. They were erratic. They were so damn stupid. I rubbed my temples in a vain effort to ward off the oncoming ache. “What’s her name?”

“Rachel.”

I cursed the name in my mind. So he had a daughter named Rachel. Fine. That explained the photos, but not the after-hour phone calls to his secretary. Not the perfume on his clothes. Not Nora’s trips to Body Electric.

“I still think he’s cheating on you, Mom.”

“You may be right.” She sighed again. “I heard him talking on the phone a little while ago and he told whoever it was that he was closing the office Friday morning. He never goes in late. He’s just like you, an early bird. I think he might be spending the morning with
her.
”

Friday huh. Well, I would be there, camera in hand.