Hurts So Good (21 page)

His sleeves were rolled up, and his shirt was undone. He looked relaxed and yet coiled tight. He looked sexy and lethal.

"Neil?"

"That's my name."

"What are you doing?"

"Waiting. For you." His voice was too soft and flat.

She watched as he tapped his ashes, and they fell onto the new rug next to the open bottle standing within reach of his fingers. His casual action contradicted the steely glint in his narrowed eyes.

"Are you drunk?"

"No."

"Something's wrong."

"It is? Care to tell me what that could be?"

"I—I don't know. You tell me."

He put the cigarette in his mouth and tossed off his shirt.

"Tell you what,
chere,
I'm in the mood for a little game. You're so good at humoring me when I think these things up for us two. You know,
private
things that no one else is meant to share. Nothing wrong with that when a man and woman love and trust each other, right?"

The hair on her nape grew damp, and her lips trembled as they formed an answer. "Right," she said uncertainly.

"Make you a deal. Play my game, and then I'll tell you what's up after it's over. Fair enough?"

Had he found out about the article? He couldn't have unless—her gaze darted from him to the chest of drawers. Surely, he wouldn't have gone through her personal things, not the way he coveted his own privacy.

"I'm waiting," he said quietly. "Can't play by myself. C'mon,
chere,
be a good sport. I have a surprise for you, but you have to be game to get it. Are you in?"

His voice was smooth as glass, the smile he flashed her chilling. Or was guilt causing her to imagine it?

"Okay, I'm in," she hesitantly agreed. "I suppose you have rules."

"Of course. You know how I like to play everything straight. And, like you, I never cheat." He picked up the bottle and took a long swig, then lit another cigarette from the butt of the previous one and rose. Standing at the chest of drawers, he caught her gaze in the mirror, then his eyes glanced down to rest on the polished wood top. Andrea followed their path and saw the tiny wrapped box.

Of course! Why hadn't she guessed? Leave it to Neil to turn an ordinary proposal into a game complete with rules.

"This is how we play. I give you a command, but before you follow it, you say, 'Neil, may I?' If I say, 'You may' then you may. If I say 'You may not,' then you may not. Like 'Mother May I?' Sweet and simple as my command that you take four steps forward."

Andrea stepped forward, meaning to throw her arms around him and call his hand. Her own hands were eager to open what had to be a jeweler's box with a ring meant for her finger. But first she had to confess.

"Neil, I—"

"Wrong!" He laughed. "It's 'Neil,
may
I?' Return to your place and stay there till you understand the rules." He blew a smoke ring and winked in the mirror. "Let's try it again,
chere.
Take four steps forward."

"Neil... may I?"

"You may. Very good. Now, you
may
say, 'Neil, I love you and I trust you, just as you have loved and trusted me, and more than anything I want to kiss you and never stop.'"

"I love you and I trust you, just as you do me, and more than anything I do want to kiss you and never stop."

"Then what are you waiting for? I would so like a kiss."

As he turned to face her, she rushed to him and wrapped her arms around his bare waist. Why did he feel different to her touch? And why were his lips hard and remote as he possessed her mouth and his hands moved over her body? He undressed her quickly but not with the same white-hot heat that usually consumed their patience with loving preliminaries. There was a cold efficiency in his disrobing of her now, and she felt no emotion in the fingertips that roved over her nakedness.

"You
may
lie down on the bed," he softly commanded. "Facedown and palms up." When she hesitated, he reached for the box. He tossed it in the air, then caught it as he stared at her with a teasing, taunting smile.

"Neil, I—I don't think I like this game anymore. We need to talk."

"Later. You know what's in here, don't you? I do so want you to open it. C'mon,
chere.
Let me have my fun."

Never taking her eyes off Neil, she cautiously moved to the bed and lay down as he'd instructed.

He held the box just out of her reach while he traced her spine with his fingers, then patted her behind. Several times, very tenderly. Andrea flinched as if he'd struck her.

Finally, he placed the box on her palm. "Unwrap what I bought just for you."

With shaking hands she started to untie the ribbon.

"Uh-uh-uh. You forgot... Neil, may I?"

Dear God how she wanted this horrid game to end. She realized then what it was. A calculated game of cat-and-mouse designed to trap her for her wrongdoing.
He knew.

"You found it, didn't you?" she said, forcing the words from her lips.

"Found what,
chere
? Have you got a surprise for me too? No, don't tell me, or you might spoil mine. Hurry up now, you
may
open my surprise so you can give me yours. Let's get this over with, so we can quit playing and get to business."

She couldn't get it over with soon enough. Tearing off the ribbon, she glanced up at Neil. His grim, hard gaze raked over her prone body as he drank freely from the bottle, then swiped his forearm over his lips.

"Open it."

"Neil, may—"

"Dammit, yes."

Her hands like ice, she unwrapped the jeweler's box and lifted the top. And then she was gazing at a stunning heart-shaped five-carat diamond set in gold. The gemstone had a pink cast, which contrasted with the crystal-clear teardrop-shaped diamonds that radiated from it like sunbeams. It was breathtaking. One of a kind.

"You may now say, 'It's beautiful, Neil, and I wish I could wear it, because you had this made just for me.'"

"It
is
beautiful, Neil. And yes, I wish I could wear it. Only you would have had this made just for me."

"Couldn't have said it better myself." He took the ring from the box and held it over her finger. "One final command, Andrea, and we'll get to
your
surprise. But first I must hear you say, 'I know this ring is a symbol of your love and the trust I would never destroy because once I did you'd never trust me again. Please be my husband, and let me be your wife. For now and forever.'"

"Stop it," she cried. "Stop it!"

"Wrong reply. But that was quite a mouthful, so let's make it simple. As in, 'I want to marry you. I want to wear your ring and have your babies.' And you say...?"

"Neil—" She stared from the brutal line of his mouth to the cutting censure in his eyes to the gold-and-diamond promise of a dream. "Neil...
may...
I?" she sobbed out.

"No, Andrea"—he flung the ring across the room—"you may
not."
Before she could roll off the bed, he pinned her down with his body.

"Let me go. Please, Neil, I'm begging you. Let me go."

"Not on your life. You're not about to throw me off and get away. I do the walking, and I say when."

"You have to listen to me. I can explain. Five minutes, just give me five minutes to make you understand."

"I understand one thing and one thing only." He gripped both her wrists in a single hand. "You lied to me, dammit.
Lied
."

"I admit it. Okay? I'm guilty. But, Neil, I wasn't—"

"Going to send it?" His mocking laughter filled her ear. "Aw, no no,
chere,
of course not. That's why you hid it from me, right? Now let me guess when you were gonna tell me. Today, I'll just bet."

"Yes!
Yes,
I swear to you. God's truth, I was."

"Uh-huh." His hips brushed a whispered caress over her buttocks. "Sure you were. And I do believe you,
chere.
The same way I believe you haven't already passed the goods on to the highest bidder. How am I doing so far? That was gonna be your next claim to innocence, wasn't it?" When she whimpered, he roared. "Wasn't it?"

"Yes. But Neil, it's true. I wrote it only for me. And for you. Not for anyone else. No one's seen it and—"

"Shut up! Shut your lying mouth up and quit insulting me with such predictable tripe. The way it was between us could've been for good if you hadn't ruined us."

"I didn't ruin us, Neil. It's—"

"Too late, that's what it is." He turned her around beneath him, softly kissed her mouth. "You have been a
very
bad girl. Such a bad girl that I want you to beg me to make love to you. And you will. Again. And again. And... well, you get the picture. Tonight's the final act,
chere.
We're making it count."

* * *

"I loved you, Andrea. God, how I did love you." Neil tenderly stroked a fingertip over her swollen mouth as he studied her tear-streaked face in the midmorning light.

And then he couldn't look at her anymore. If he did, he'd be a bigger sap than the one she'd played him for with a maestro's touch. And all for the sake of a scoop. Journalists. How he did hate them. But never more than now.

He got up, feeling her eyes on him. Even with her betrayal ripping him up, he could still feel the heat of hunger her body sparked in him. He was certain it would never go away. Such was the price of a grand passion cut down in its prime by treason.

"If you really loved me, Neil, you would listen to my side of the story."

"And if you'd really loved me, you never would have written one." He turned to her then. "You came for an exclusive, and that's what you got. I've seen the proof. What proof have you got to deny it and convince me your lies
is
God's truth?"

More than anything he wanted her to. He'd give up what was left of his life for a half-baked excuse he could swallow.

Her answer was a pregnant silence, a shuttered stare.

"You got what you came for, Andrea, and I hope you're happy, 'cause I've never been more miserable in my whole miserable life. You've given me one helluva wonderful, wild ride, but this is where I get off. You've got one month to pack your bags and get out. As of now. I'm moving back to my private quarters in the club. If you need more time, call Lou to arrange it. Fair enough?"

"It's not fair at all, Neil. I'll move out today. This is your house, not mine."

"It
was
ours," he said in a battered voice. "We could've had it all if you hadn't violated me. Ever since I found that article, I've felt a certain kinship with rape victims. That's how I feel.
Raped.
Mentally and emotionally violated by a trusted family member. Excuse me while I puke?"

Andrea lunged from the bed after him, but he slammed the bathroom door in her face. She listened to his heaves and muted groans. A flush was followed by the sound of running water. Then the door opened.

"What a final bow, huh?" he said with a bark of laughter. "Thanks for everything—well... almost. If a buyer hasn't bitten yet, one's bound to soon. I won't give you my endorsement. But I won't take you to court for it neither. Don't have the stomach for it,
chere.
No more than I do to have whatever the hell you've written made public. I'll pay you for the article. Send me the bill if you so wisely choose and... and I need to get out of here."

He turned, and all she could think was that he was walking out of her life, just as he'd walked out on his mass audience. She wasn't only desperate, she was suddenly angry and refusing his refund to a ticket she'd pay for the rest of her life.

"You know what, Slick? You've got a bad habit: quitting. When the world doesn't play by your rules, what do you do? You quit! You're a sore loser, and so you take the easy way out. It's a child's game for a little boy in a man's body. Go ahead and fly. Fly, Peter Pan,
fly
. Take to the air and leave the truth behind you. It's in
my
drawer that you breached my trust by entering."

He swung around at the moment she jerked out the drawer and frantically dug to the bottom. As she waved the papers at him, he came at her and grabbed her wrist.

"Lady, have you got nerve," he bit out. "Get that out of my sight before I tear it up."

"Go ahead, Neil. Tear it up. Quitting doesn't make any of it go away, but like with everything else, you're afraid to deal with it. And do you know what that makes you besides a quitter? A coward. Read it, Neil. I
dare
you." She thrust it at him, and he glared from her to the pages he took from her. "Go ahead and read it. Or don't you have the guts?"

"Anything you've written is something I've told you in confidence. I don't need to read my regurgitated secrets."

"Then why not take it to remember me by?" she taunted him. "Keep the article, read it when I'm gone."