Debra Webb - In His Touch Box Set (Here To Stay, Up Close, Tempting Trace, Basic Instincts) (44 page)

Feeling cold and empty, Claire rolled to the edge of the bed and sat up. She closed her eyes and steadied herself, then stood. Even the humiliation of knowing that she’d all but thrown herself at him and been rejected couldn’t ease the need throbbing inside her. Summoning her courage, she took the few steps necessary to bring her within arm’s reach of him. She stared at his broad back and clenched her fists at her sides to keep from reaching out to touch him. “I’m sorry, Trace. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I just wanted to—”

“Go, Claire,” he said roughly. “I don’t want either of us to make a mistake, and I’m dangerously close to doing just that.”

She turned and hurried out of the room. In her own room, she slammed the door and flung herself onto the bed. What had she been thinking when she’d gone to him like that? She’d excused her actions by allowing herself to think that her only motivation was to check on him. To cover him. To touch him...

Heaven, help her, that was a lie and she knew it.

How could she possibly be falling so hard and so fast for Trace Walker?

Chapter Six

Claire waved and smiled to her studio audience as she crossed the stage. This particular Friday was a very special day for her and the show. Not to mention that she was extremely grateful to have the day away from Trace. Things had been a little more than awkward all week. They’d actually avoided each other at every opportunity. The charged scene in his hotel room stood like a brick wall between them. Though it was clear Trace was uncomfortable around her, he made no offer to end the secretarial charade. The man was determined to see it through to the end.

And worst of all, Claire couldn’t bring herself to consider that when he did release her from the “additional duties” she would probably never see him again.

Damn. She’d gotten in way over her head. The distance she’d intended to maintain had disappeared. Calling him by his first name, feeling sympathy rather than determination—her defenses were shattered. But, she couldn’t worry about that right now, she had a show to do. But later, she had to figure this out. Somehow Claire had to emotionally disengage herself from Trace Walker, or things were only going to go downhill.

“Hello, Nashville, and welcome to the third anniversary special of
Heart Beat
.”

A long, loud round of applause followed. She smiled, happiness and excitement rushed through her, pushing away worries of Trace. Morris Tate, the network exec who’d been courting her, had called to congratulate Claire this morning. The fact that he was watching made this show all the more important.

“Today we have a very special guest,” Claire announced when the applause had died. “His country music career has been hugely successful, and now he’s moved into the movie-making arena. The leading role in the blockbuster release
Rage
has launched Wade Hayes into superstar status. Ladies and gentlemen, it’s my pleasure—”

“Claire?”

She wheeled in surprise to find Ron crossing her stage with a lavish bouquet of red roses. “Happy anniversary, Claire.” He placed the flowers in her arms, a big smile plastered across his face. The audience roared into action with thunderous applause.

Claire blinked back tears and muttered her thanks as Ron kissed her cheek. With a wave to the audience, he hurried off stage. Claire swiped at the tears now flowing freely, running her makeup. Wanda was probably standing backstage clucking her tongue at a monitor.

Claire placed the bouquet on the table next to her chair and turned back to the cheering fans.
This is what I have to focus on
. Her future. She couldn’t let Trace Walker drag her down. And she was very close to losing her heart to the man. Too close.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Claire announced in a clear voice, “Mr. Wade Hayes.”

~*~

On Saturday evening Claire downed her second glass of wine, plunked the stemmed glass down and poured herself another. She stared at the box on her coffee table that contained the few personal items she had taken to, or accumulated over the last two weeks at her TWI office. She stiffened her spine and lifted the glass to her lips.

It was finally over.

She’d done it, made a command decision. She would not bow to Trace Walker’s whims any longer. Claire had gotten up bright and early that morning. She cleaned her apartment from one end to the other. And suddenly, while scrubbing the bathtub, she’d made up her mind. Trace’s little game of revenge was over. He’d had his fun. She had showered and changed, then driven to his house, marched into her office—box in hand—and packed up. She’d penned a concise note that merely read, “I quit.” Gentry had hovered anxiously nearby. Whether from concern she would take something that didn’t belong to her or because he feared Trace’s retaliation for her actions, she didn’t know.

Nor did she care. It was over...

So why the hell did she feel this way?

She wasn’t worried about getting fired. Deep down she didn’t believe for a minute Trace would do that, not now after she’d gotten to know him better. He worked at portraying a man who was heartless, but she knew he wasn’t that way inside—where it counted. Oh, he’d probably raise a little hell, steam and sputter a few heated threats to Jim or Ron. But he wouldn’t fire her.

Besides, she’d had no choice but to take this drastic measure. Claire plopped the glass back on the table, closed her eyes, and blew out a heavy breath. She couldn’t stop thinking about him... wanting him. No matter how hard she tried, the memory of Trace just wouldn’t let go. The intensity in his eyes... the half smile that tilted his lips on those rare occasions when he allowed himself to smile. She closed her eyes and recalled the feel of his strong arms around her, the smoky sound of his voice. The earthy, masculine scent that belonged only to him.

Claire sighed again.

They really had nothing in common other than an intense physical attraction. Trace had no respect for her work and thought nothing else existed except his. Claire loved parties and traveling, discovering new places and things. He hated socializing and hardly ever left his house. He was as reclusive as she was outgoing.

Even if he wanted a relationship with her—which he didn’t—it would never work.

Never.

Claire shook her head. How could this have happened to her? How could she feel like this about the man who had turned her professional life upside down two weeks ago? A man arrogant enough to buy a frigging television station simply to prove a point.

Trace Walker was just another paragraph in the history of country music known by anyone associated with the business. Like most women her age, Claire had known a little about him before the report she’d done. Even remembered thinking he was so cool when she was sixteen. Well, maybe a tad more than cool. But that was ancient history.

Only one month ago, Trace Walker had been nothing more than a name on a piece of paper that listed possibilities for her “Fallen Stars” series. A fleeting recollection of startling blue eyes and coal black hair and the quickening of her heart at that memory had been the only influencing factor between his name and several others.

How had things changed so rapidly? How had Trace Walker found his way so deeply into her heart? Unwillingly at that. Why did she care, beyond basic human compassion, about this man?

Why did she want him so? She wished it were nothing more than that age old concept of wanting what one couldn’t have but she recognized it was not that simple.

Her career was just taking off—she didn’t need this kind of complication. She had to get it through her head that Trace Walker did not want her. Hadn’t he said so himself?

Three sharp raps at her door startled Claire from her disturbing reverie. She stood on shaky legs. The three glasses of wine, downed in quick succession, had gone straight to her head. She steadied herself, finger combed her hair, then made her way to the door as someone pounded on it yet again.

“I’m coming!” Claire paused at the door and composed herself. As an afterthought, she tiptoed and peeked through the peephole. Trace. Damn. And he looked mad as hell. She cringed. And she
looked
like hell.

Sobering instantly, she moistened her suddenly dry lips. She figured she’d have to face him sooner or later. She had just hoped it would be later. The door rattled again beneath his pounding blows and she jumped, barely covered her mouth in time to hold back the yelp. After a deep breath, she removed the security chain, unlocked the door and pulled it open.

“Hello, Mr. Walker.” She manufactured a smile.

“We need to talk.” He brushed past her and stormed into the middle of her living room.

“Won’t you come in?” She shook her head as she closed the door. The man was incredibly arrogant, totally self-absorbed. Her courage shored up by her irritation, she folded her arms over her chest and strode to her coffee table. She poured herself another glass of wine. “Would you like something to drink, Mr. Walker?” A little more liquid courage couldn’t hurt.

“No.”

Ignoring his obviously foul mood, she picked up her glass and took a long swallow. She licked the wine from her lips and leveled her gaze on his. “What is it you want?”

He glanced at the box on the table. “I found your letter of resignation,” he said in that low, deceptively calm voice of his. Fire radiated from his blue eyes and tension vibrated from his stiff posture, belying his tone.

Oh, he was livid. Claire downed the rest of her wine and deposited the glass on the table. “That’s right. I refuse to participate in this ridiculous charade a moment longer.”

He lifted one skeptical eyebrow and cocked his handsome head. “The last time I looked at your contract I was the one calling the shots.”

Anger overriding her good judgment, Claire stepped closer to him and glared into his haughty gaze. “You don’t own me, Trace Walker. You can’t make me do anything. The only thing you have the power to do is fire me from
Heart Beat
.”

He took a challenging step closer. “Is that what you want me to do?”

“You know it’s not.”

Something in his expression changed, but Claire couldn’t quite identify the emotion ruling now. He leaned even closer, a muscle tightened in his jaw. “You started all this, and now you just want to walk away.”

Claire blinked, startled by his words. He’d nailed her with that one. She had gone into his room that night... her actions in Dallas had started this. Her heart pounded harder with his nearness. Between the wine and his enticing scent, she felt lightheaded, she couldn’t reason. “I think you should leave now. I don’t believe we have anything further to discuss.” She couldn’t do this.

“Fine, so we won’t talk.”

Disappointment flooded her. Was he going to give up that easily?

Instead of walking away as she’d expected, he grabbed her and pulled her hard against him. Before she could protest, he took her mouth with his own.

Everything else ceased to exist as she sank deeper and deeper into the spiraling sensation of his kiss. His hard, hungry mouth softened as the intensity of his need heightened. The desperation in his arms around her and the vibrating tension in his body proved evidence enough for Claire to understand she wasn’t in this alone. Her arms wound around his neck, fingers threading into his thick, silky hair. How she had wanted this. Needed this.

“Claire,” he murmured as he pulled back and looked deeply into her eyes. The storm raging in his blue gaze tugged at the last shred of her self-control. “If you don’t want this, tell me to stop now—before it’s too late.” Hesitance and doubt flashed across the storm in his eyes.

“Don’t stop, Trace,” she whispered and lifted her mouth to his once more.

He kissed her hard, then harder still. Desire blazed inside her, hot and out of control. His hands seemed to be all over her at once, sure and demanding. Cupping her breasts, sliding down her back. He lifted her hips against him and then released. Lifted and released, rocking again and again until Claire thought she would lose her mind with want. Each slow, easy movement sent a thousand sensations building toward a simultaneous explosion.

He mimicked the movement with his tongue. Moving in and out of her mouth. Touching, teasing, filling. And then he lifted her hips higher, more firmly against the solid evidence of his own need. Claire moaned with intensifying pleasure and locked her legs around his lean waist. She pressed the heat between her thighs more fully against his arousal. His answering groan echoed inside her mouth.

“Where’s your bedroom?” he asked, his breath quick and uneven as he raked her with his smoldering gaze.

“That way,” Claire said breathlessly as she gestured toward the hall. “On the right.” She tightened her hold on him as he placed a gentle kiss on the pulse she felt beating rapidly at the base of her throat. “Hurry, Trace,” she urged.

His blue gaze connected with hers and he smiled. One of those insanely sexy smiles that sent the room spinning around her. His strong arms cradled her securely as he carried her to her bedroom door. Just inside the doorway, he paused. Even in the shadowy light from the single lamp on the bedside table, Claire could see the renewed hesitance in his eyes.

“Are you sure about this, Claire?” His voice rumbled thick and husky from his chest. “I can’t offer you anything but tonight. I can’t give you the kind of future you surely want.”

His body told a different story. Claire could feel how desperately he wanted her. His arms, though strong and sure around her, shook ever so slightly with the strength of his need. His heart pounded in his chest and his mouth hovered, waiting, yearning, to mate with hers. That kind of hunger would never be satisfied with one night of passion. He stood still as stone, waiting patiently for her decision. Claire’s desire sung through her veins, the rhythmic need only increasing at the sweetness of his warning.

How she wanted this man
.

Not just his fabulous body, either. She wanted his mind, his heart, and his soul. Claire wanted to hear her name on his lips when release claimed him. Wanted him to look at her the tender way he was looking at her right now for the rest of her life.