Call My Name (11 page)

Once again he sought an explanation. “Please tell me. What upset you? You were as eager as I was, until…” His let his words die out as she turned her taut face toward the pillow and threw an arm across it defensively. Silence held them frozen for several moments. Finally, with a soft oath, he pushed himself from the bed and left the room.

Daran lost track of time as she lay quietly, spent of emotion, weary to the bone. Hadn’t she wanted nothing but a long, hot bath? What had she gotten instead? A long, warm body, laced with virility, scented likewise, and eager to engulf her totally, had she allowed it. It had been so beautiful for a while there, a heady and wonderful sense of unity, a oneness of desire. But that was the apex; it could go no higher, no further. Drew Charles was a politician. There was no room for romance in his life. Lust, yes. Passion, yes. Basic physical satisfaction, yes. But romance, no. Future, no. Love, no. She had been through it before; she was an expert. And Bill’s brand had left its mark, exerting itself tonight when, for the first time since she had left him more than five years ago, she might have succumbed to the lure of a man. A bitter kind of gratitude filled her but failed to touch the emptiness she felt within.

Most noticeable amid the silence that filtered in from the rest of the house was the absence of the sound of the door closing behind the senator. Intuitively Daran knew that he remained, waiting, in the living room. Resigned to face the music, she rose from the bed, straightened her clothing, and ventured forward.

The broad back at the far end of the room held no hint of his mood, yet the low bend of the fair head, the firm grip of the hands on his hips, the wide stance of his lean legs all suggested a tension which she knew had to exist. One simply did not tempt a man as she had done, albeit unwittingly, then turn from him and expect patience and understanding, particularly with a man of the stature of Senator Andrew Charles, who doubtless had experienced few such turndowns. There would be a minimum of compassion.

Overwhelmed by these thoughts and the untenable situation in which she found herself, Daran stood for several moments at the doorway. The legs that finally carried her forward were less sure than the mind, which only knew that something had to be said to finally conclude the fiasco.

“Senator—” she began, only to be cut off abruptly by the harsh growl which corrected her.

“Drew!” In light of what had taken place earlier, his anger was justified. Yet this short outburst was a mere sample.

“I’m sorry … Drew.” Her whisper was heartfelt, drawing him around to face her. His features were taut, his eyes a chilled charcoal. To her astonishment, however, when he spoke, his voice retained the calmness of other times.

“Are you all right now?” The eyes that studied hers carefully saw none of the terror that had seized her before. Her confirmation came instantly.

“Yes.” With his apparent control, she did feel fine.

“What happened, Daran?” he asked patiently.

But he had been there; surely he knew. Was this some new kind of word game he played? Bewildered, she gazed up at him in silent questioning. Realizing her confusion, he spoke again.

“No, I mean before. Something must have happened before in your life to give you that wounded-dog complex. Every time I get close to you and you allow yourself to respond, it appears. What is it?”

“Nothing.” She lied softly. She barely knew the man, senator or not. This was not the time to tell her life story, when it was so very, very private.

But Drew was not about to let it drop. “Nothing?” A tawny brow arched skeptically. “You’re a beautiful woman. And I know that you find me … attractive.” There was no smugness in his suggestion, but she lashed out defensively.

“And thoroughly arrogant!”

The gray eyes did not flicker. “Perhaps arrogant. But that doesn’t negate the fact that each time I touch you, you tremble.” Unable to deny his claim, she merely averted her eyes, lowering them to fall to the tanned skin exposed by the opened buttons of his light blue shirt. It was an error; true to his words, even taking them one step further, that now familiar tremor flitted about her insides. Dropping her eyes, she focused on the plush carpeting by her feet. With the determination that was part of his unique character, Drew prodded on.

“If it weren’t for the heat of your response at the start, I might wonder if you were frigid.”

Her dark head shot up. “I’m not.”

“No.” He smiled softly, pleased at finally receiving a definitive answer. Directness appeared to work. “And, in this day, with your looks, I find it hard to believe that you have reached the age of thirty with your virginity intact.”

Indignantly she corrected him. “Twenty-nine.”

Again the smile teased the fringe of his lips before disappearing. “Twenty-nine then. But now you’re evading the question.” The suddenly sharpness of his gaze warned her against that tactic. “Are you a virgin, Daran?”

“No.” The word was barely audible. In its wake, an unfathomable expression swept over the carved and manly features towering above her, receding to leave a shade of perplexity in the gray-eyed gaze.

“Then you must have had a bad experience somewhere along the line.” When she failed to respond but turned her head away, his patience thinned. Cupping her chin between the lengths of his thumb and forefinger, he forced her face back to his. “Either that,” he went on, his voice more icy than she had ever heard it, eyes bearing a similar frost, “or you play a dirty game that no man in his right mind would stand for.” The threat was suitably cloaked. She perceived it nonetheless. Cringing inwardly as his hand held her face in its steel grip, she felt her eyes brim with tears.

“I-I wouldn’t do that!” she rasped softly, disgusted at the thought of what he had suggested. “I’m not th-that kind of person.”

“I didn’t think so,” he snapped, as angry with himself as with her for forcing the accusation which he had doubted from the start. A jerked movement took his hand from her chin, then himself from the spot, as he paced several yards from her, turned, and pursued the first assumption. Her back was to him, arms wrapped about her middle in distress. “Then you must have been hurt at some point.”

Bowing her head, she missed the movement that would have been reflected in the window glass as he approached her. When his hands fell lightly on her shoulders from behind, she jumped in alarm. Doggedly, he held her, turning her around, holding her at arm’s length as he repeated his query. “Daran? You’ve been hurt, haven’t you?”

How could she avoid him? His hands held her, his nearness soothed her in such strange ways. In the end persistence would triumph. Why not shorten the agony? Silently her dark head nodded in affirmation. A whispered curse sailed over her head as he drew it gently against his chest, the soft material of his shirt absorbing the few tears that had escaped her moistened eyes. The band of his arms supported her against him and the world outside, until her breathing regained a semblance of steadiness. Only then did he pull back to look into her face, a picture of utter vulnerability.

“I would never hurt you. Don’t you know that?” Even amid her own emotional turmoil she detected the hurt in his voice. It puzzled her; was it real, or merely part of the image? As though sensing her indecision, he made a further attempt to calm her, softening his voice to reflect the feeling within him that puzzled him as well. The occasional skittish woman was not unusual; his own reaction to this one was. Though it was none of his business, he felt a surge of anger at the man who had caused her such anguish.

Both thumbs smoothed away the last of the dampness from her cheeks, as he framed her face with his hands. “You’re very beautiful, Daran. And passionate. I would find a night with a woman like you very exciting.” The musky male scent that filled her senses threatened to arouse that very passion to which he now referred. But the pain of other thoughts remained a tangible intruder, its ghost a hollow at the back of her eyes. Drew picked up on it instantly. “Now don’t go all stiff on me again, Daran,” he chided gently. “You have to believe that I would never, never cause you pain.”

There was pain … and there was pain. One was physical, the other psychological. In a moment of foresight she wondered if the danger from this man had more to do with the latter. When finally she spoke, her skepticism was strong. “Why should I believe that, Drew? I hardly know you.”

“Oh, come on. Everybody knows me.” His words were glib, flowing almost from habit. Their sureness brought back a spark of spirit to her amber eyes, which flashed faintly as they narrowed on him.

“Yes, everybody knows the senator. There’s that public image that has to be upheld at all costs. But it’s not always true. I know!” To her chagrin, she spilled out more of her feelings than she might have wished. Her bitterness was obvious. Drew noted it, then tabled it for later consideration. His own anger had risen in the face of her reaction to the words which he had so innocently, though wrongly, uttered.

“Look, Daran. I’ve never hurt a woman in my life. The image, in this case, stands as the truth. And—” he dropped his hands and took a step back “—if you don’t believe that, then I’d better leave now.” Not one to make idle threats, he let his long legs carry him halfway across the room toward the front door before the force of her voice, strong, clear, and surprising even Daran with its intensity, stopped him.

“No!” The sound softened instantly. “Wait.” Slowly he turned. “I do believe it.” With inexplicable certainty she did. Yet there was more to say. “It’s just that … well … I really don’t know you particularly well.” His gaze speared her, daring her to explain herself further. “I know you by reputation only. You were a hard-working and honest representative, and are an outstanding senator. You’re—”

“I’m a man.” The low roar shook through her, stifling any further praise she may have given. “I don’t give a damn about what you think of my record at this particular moment.” Thoroughly puzzled as to why he should be so furious, she could only stare as he retraced his steps to face her. “I’m a man. Very sensitive. Very human. And—” he sighed, as though suddenly worn out by the exertion of the argument “—at this point, very tired.”

Her softened amber gaze followed him as he once more headed for the door. “You’re right,” he murmured abruptly, turning. “You really don’t know me. But we’ll remedy that … beginning tomorrow morning. How about breakfast?”

Taken off guard by the sudden change of pace, she stammered. “B-but I have a c-class at ten o’clock—”

“No, I mean an
early
breakfast. I have to be on the plane by then myself. I was thinking more like seven-thirty.”

“But it’s nearly one o’clock, now…” Her eyes widened.

“So?” The lazy slant to his lips took all indifference from his tone, suffusing it with a touch of humor.

Daran nodded, badly in need of that light touch herself. “That’s right. I keep forgetting that you politicians don’t sleep the way the rest of us do. You catch it when it comes—in the car, at the meeting, on
someone else’s sofa
…” The emphasis was unnecessary; her point was well taken.

“Touché!” He gave it to her willingly. “So, I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty?”

She smiled, suddenly totally relaxed. “Yes.”

“Then I’ll be on my way.” His hand had circled the doorknob before he stopped short, lowered his head, shook it slightly in accompaniment of a soft laugh, then turned, reluctantly, back to her. The grin that covered the distance was nothing less than sheepish. “Ah, Daran…?” he began.

“Yes?”

“I have one slight problem.” Still that same grin.

“Problem?” There was something about that grin that sought to warn her.

“I, ah, haven’t got anywhere to sleep.”

Incredulity underscored her exclamation. “What?”

“I loaned my house to one of my colleagues, Sam Pastori, the senator from Montana. He and his family were to be in the area for the Yale reunion and the festivities that have gone on for much of the week. I didn’t expect to return here first when I made the offer.”

“That was very generous of you.” What else could she say? Intuitively she knew what would come next.

“Would you mind terribly if I spent the night on your sofa? After all, I’ve already tested it, and it fits.”

On the one hand, Daran was furious. So
this
was why he had appeared so suddenly on her doorstep; he had actually planned on spending the night in
her
bed with
her
. But he had changed his tune; for that he deserved some credit. What harm would be done? In light of the boyish innocence that dominated his entire mien at that moment, she knew for certain how he had captured at least a small percentage of his votes. No woman in her right mind could refuse that face. She was no different.

“Oh, all right.” She agreed to his proposal with grudging good humor. “But if you want to use the bathroom, you’d better make it fast. I’ve been promising myself a hot bath since the end of my dance class, and I’d like it within the next five minutes.”

The gleam that sizzled from his suddenly warm gray gaze suggested that he would use the bathroom when and for how long he wanted. His words, however, were properly docile. “Of course. I’ll just get my bag from the car…”

*   *   *

That Daran managed to sleep at all, acutely aware as she was of the man in the room down the hall, was a miracle. Assuming that she would have to awaken him from the deep sleep he would need after his trip, she set her alarm accordingly. To her amazement, however, it was a warm hand on her shoulder that brought her back from her own temporary escape from reality. Having lived alone for so long, she jumped when the slight shaking motion beckoned. Turning with a start, her eyes widened at the sight of the familiar face, apparently wide awake and smiling down at her from his perch on the edge of the bed. Her relief at recognizing him was short-lived. The muscled spread of his chest, bare to the waist, stole her breath a second time.

“Good morning,” he crooned softly, no doubt quite comfortable with her reaction. “Did you sleep well?” Nonchalance oozed from the casual inquiry, none of it spreading to her.