No Red Roses: A Loveswept Classic Romance (Santa Flores) (18 page)

“Shh, sweetheart,” he gasped, his hands reaching beneath her to cup her buttocks and draw her closer to his thrusting body. “Don’t reach for it. Just let it happen.”

Then it
was
happening and she cried out as her body convulsed, her legs tightening around Rex in a grateful embrace. He was still moving, she noticed dazedly, and he lifted her in a final deep thrust, then uttered a wild, guttural groan that sent an odd, primitive thrill through her.

He collapsed against her and she could feel the mad thunder of his heart as he clutched her to him. He was trembling, and his chest was moving with the harshness of his breathing. Her arms closed around him with an age-old instinctive protectiveness.

It seemed like a long time before he stirred against her. He raised his head to look down at her, his dark face curiously enigmatic. Then he was abruptly rolling over and sitting up. “Stay
there,” he ordered as he swung his legs off the bed and got to his feet. “I’ll be right back.”

She couldn’t have moved if she’d tried, Tamara thought wryly. Every muscle in her body felt like warm butter, yet there was an incompleteness, an emptiness she’d never known before. Would it always be like this now when she wasn’t a part of Rex?

He returned carrying a moist washcloth and sat down beside her on the bed. “Spread your legs, love.” Then he was gently wiping her thighs and between her legs. “Are you sore?” he asked, frowning.

The warm, damp cloth was deliciously soothing and the tenderness in Rex’s face as he performed that intimate service was almost unbearably moving. “Not at all,” she assured him softly.

He tossed the cloth aside and one hard, warm hand immediately began to massage the tight, black curls he’d just cleansed. “You’re so pretty,” he whispered wonderingly. “You’re like an ebony velvet orchid with a lovely pink heart.” His
fingers touched that heart with gossamer-light tenderness. “So pretty.”

Tamara inhaled sharply. “Come up to me, Rex,” she murmured. “I want to hold you.”

“Now there’s crystal dew on my exquisite orchid,” he murmured, his eyes still caressing her. “Do you know how it makes me feel to know I can make you do that?”

“Rex, please!”

He pulled his gaze away from her with obvious effort and shook his head as if to clear it. A deep shudder rippled through his body. “No!” He stood up abruptly and moved hurriedly away from the bed. He’d forgotten the three steps leading up to the canopy bed and she heard a small thud as he fell to his knees on the hard oak floor.

Tamara sat up, bewildered by the sudden change from passionate togetherness to this chilling loneliness. “Rex,” she called hesitantly, then heard his furious cursing as he pulled on his clothes. “Rex, what is it? What’s wrong?”

Then he was back at the bed, tossing her the
cream satin robe that he’d removed so hurriedly only a short time before. “Put it on,” he said. “I won’t have you lying there teasing the hell out of me as we talk.”

She gazed at him in bewilderment as she obediently slipped on the robe and buttoned the first few buttons. She ran her fingers distractedly through her hair and the motion pulled the satin material taut over her breasts, causing him to start muttering obscenities again.

He plopped down on the bed and fixed dark, accusing eyes on her. “You were a virgin.”

She nodded slowly, her gaze fastened on his scowling face. “Yes.”

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me? Don’t you think I had a right to know?” he asked tightly.

She shook her head helplessly. “I didn’t think it was that important.”

“Not important? Tamara, damn it, it’s important,” he growled. “What about Todd Jamison and all those other guys he told me about? What about Walter Bettencourt?”

Tamara couldn’t understand why he was so
upset. With one finger tracing idle patterns on the tapestry spread, she haltingly told him the truth of the lies that had been spread about her.

The explanation didn’t appear to lessen Rex’s ire. “That’s great, absolutely great,” he muttered with profound disgust. “Not only a virgin, but a victim as well.”

She felt a shiver of pain run through her at the roughness of his tone. “I don’t know why you’re so angry,” she said huskily. “What difference does it make if I was a virgin?”

“It makes a hell of a lot of difference! I’ve never had a virgin before.”

“And I’ve never had a lover before,” she retorted. “You’re not making sense. Why does it even matter?”

“Because it’s a heavy responsibility, damn it! What if I’d done something to turn you off for good? And what’s more it’s clear now that you’ve let yourself be
so
hurt by Jamison and those small-town tattle-mongers that you’ve kept all that warmth and passion in deep freeze for years.” He ran his hand through his hair. “For
heaven’s sake, I didn’t even protect you! I didn’t think it would be necessary.”

“But I
wanted
you to make love to me,” Tamara protested, and two crystal tears flowed slowly down her cheeks.

Rex jumped off the bed like a scalded cat. “Don’t do that!” he growled fiercely. “You know damn well what that does to me. In two seconds I’ll have you in my arms, and in ten seconds you’ll be in exactly the same position you were in ten minutes ago!”

“I don’t see what would be so bad about that,” she said huskily, her gaze running lovingly over his wide, muscular shoulders under the open white shirt.

“And you can cut that out, too!” he barked, starting to button the shirt hurriedly. “I’m not about to seduce you until I get my head straight. I’ve got to think.”

Tamara watched in incredulous dismay as he stepped into his shoes, grabbed his jacket, and strode swiftly to the door. “I’m taking another room for the night,” he said. “I’ll meet you tomorrow
in the lobby at eight.” The door slammed behind him.

Tamara slowly sat up and automatically began fastening the remaining buttons on the satin robe. Her mind was in a turmoil as she tried to fathom Rex’s violent reaction to her untouched state. She’d heard that some men didn’t like to initiate an inexperienced woman, but she hadn’t thought that Rex would be so prejudiced. There was a sharp ache that was beginning to pierce the confusion that beset her. Being made love to by Rex was like being on a thrilling roller-coaster ride, but it had suddenly plunged off the track into emptiness.

It had all been so beautiful, she thought miserably. Her hand brushed against the delicate blossoms that had been crushed between their eager bodies. Such a touching gesture, and so like the extravagant boy-man that was Rex Brody. She picked up the jasmine, remembering tenderly the lovely meanings Rex had intoned as he had cast the various blooms over her like a scented, velvet blanket.

She sniffed the jasmine’s delicate fragrance and
suddenly felt a stabbing pain run through her as she realized why Rex had left. Her hand went lifeless and the flower fluttered onto her lap as once more the tears began to fall. He’d said making love to her was a “responsibility,” but she hadn’t understood. She’d taken the statement at face value and thought he just didn’t want to risk hurting her in any way. But of course that wasn’t the real reason at all. He’d thought she would look upon the yielding of her virginity as a commitment, having no way to know that she’d already committed herself to him totally the moment she realized she loved him. He’d been horrified at even the possibility that she might become pregnant from their union tonight.

He’d made it crystal clear what he wanted from her and hadn’t put love or affection on the list. That was why he’d left so abruptly when he’d thought he might get more than he bargained for. Rex wanted no complications in his relationship with her, and he’d been careful to tell her so in a language he’d known she’d understand.

Tamara lay back on the pillow, picking up the golden iris and cradling it against her tear-washed cheek.

A jasmine for sensuality, an orchid for beauty, but no red rose for love. No red roses.

N
INE

P
ROMPTLY AT EIGHT
the next morning she met Rex in the lobby of the hotel. He greeted her tersely and escorted her directly to the car, and they got under way immediately. By the look of the shadows under his eyes he’d had just as little sleep as she, she thought with fleeting satisfaction.

She herself had not gotten to sleep until almost dawn, but the restless night had accomplished one thing. It had formed a hard shell against the hurt and humiliation of Rex’s desertion, and even produced a bit of anger to bolster the pride
that had been submerged beneath her love and pain.

She carelessly tossed into the backseat the neatly folded, cream satin bundle she’d been carrying. “It’s really a lovely robe,” she said coolly. “It’s a pity I had nothing else to wear or you could get your money back.”

He glared at her furiously. “You know damn well I don’t want that back,” he grated between clenched teeth. “It belongs to you.”

“Then you might as well give it to Goodwill,” she said. “I certainly don’t want to see it again.”

He glowered at her. “I see you’re in your usual sweet good humor. I’d suggest you temper that sarcasm a bit. I had a helluva night and you’ll find I’m as testy as a bear with a sore tooth.”

He
had a bad night! “I can’t tell you how sorry that makes me,” she retorted in a saccharine tone of voice.

His hands tightened on the steering wheel, and he gave the appearance of counting silently. “Look, I’d really prefer not to pull the car over and break that lovely neck of yours,” he said in
a conversational tone. “So will you please shut up!”

She gave him a lethal glare and turned huffily away to stare blindly out the window. There was an icy silence for the remainder of the trip.

When they arrived at the apartment, Tamara stalked regally to the guest room and slammed the door decisively. She leaned wearily against it for a moment before walking stiffly to the center of the room and unzipping the crimson gown. It looked sadly garish in the bright morning sunlight. She wished she could just climb into that lovely, turquoise-covered bed and bury her head beneath the covers, as she’d done when something had upset her as a small child.

Sometimes it was a wearisome task to act the civilized adult and do what was expected. At the moment she wanted nothing less than to change and show up at breakfast with Jenny Jason. She had an idea those wise gray eyes saw far too much, and Tamara felt infinitely vulnerable this morning.

Well, she couldn’t offend a hostess as gracious and friendly as Jenny. She stripped quickly,
ducked in and out of the shower in minutes, brushed her teeth, and slipped on tailored navy slacks and an Anne Klein silk blouse with navy trim that looked vaguely nautical. She restrained her hair in a knot on the top of her head, and used a bit more makeup than usual to mask the violet shadows under her eyes.

Rex, Scotty, and Jenny Jason were already in the breakfast room when she arrived, and she slipped into the only vacant chair with a murmured, “Good morning.”

Jenny smiled warmly. “You look fantastic in that outfit, Tamara. I wish I had your height. If I put on anything even faintly sailor-ish, I look like Popeye. Will you have coffee or hot chocolate?”

“Coffee, please,” she answered, casting a wary glance at Brody and Oliver, who were engaged in a low-voiced exchange. She accepted the coffee Jenny handed her, added cream, and sipped the hot brew gingerly.

Jenny was gazing at her with eager silver eyes. “Look, Tamara, why don’t you go with me to this Chamber of Commerce meeting? Then we
can have lunch and maybe do some shopping later. I’d really like to get to know you better.” She made a face at Rex. “He’ll probably be rehearsing most of the afternoon, so it will be the perfect time.”

“I’d like that,” Tamara answered slowly. Not only would she like to get to know Jenny Jason, but the activity might keep her from brooding.

“Good!” Jenny said briskly. “Now let’s get breakfast over with so we can get going.” She gestured to the silver-covered trays on the table. “It’s standard hotel fare, I’m afraid. When we moved to the ranch our cook, Mike Novacek, went with us.” Her eyes twinkled. “He’d just married a Las Vegas showgirl and I think he was afraid to leave her here in temptation’s way.”

Oliver looked up abruptly, breaking off his conversation with Rex. “You received a letter yesterday in care of Rex,” he said to Tamara, pulling an envelope out of his pocket. “I meant to give it to you, but I didn’t get the chance.”

“Thank you,” Tamara said absently. “It must be from Aunt Elizabeth.” But when she opened the envelope, there was an engraved invitation
inside. A puzzled frown creased her brow and then she started to chuckle. “It’s got to be some kind of joke,” she murmured, shaking her head ruefully.

“What is it?” Jenny asked curiously, and even Rex looked up.

“I’m officially invited to be a guest of honor at a meeting of a witches’ coven,” Tamara said, grinning. “It’s being held tonight at midnight in some ghost town by a local Las Vegas coven.”

“How exciting!” Jenny exclaimed. “Which ghost town?”

Tamara looked down at the invitation. “Lucky Creek. What a peculiar name.”

“I adore ghost towns,” Jenny said dreamily. “We gave our first-anniversary party in a ghost town called Caleb’s Gulch. It was a wonderful celebration, wasn’t it, Rex?”

There was a glint of tenderness in Rex’s eyes as he gazed at Jenny’s glowing face. “It was a great party, mermaid. Steve really threw a wingding.”

Tamara felt a twinge of envy at the gentleness in Rex’s voice. It seemed a long time since she’d
been the recipient of anything but scowls and sarcasm from him.

She put down the invitation. “Well, it’s obviously someone’s idea of a practical joke,” she said carelessly. She helped herself to a piece of toast from a serving tray.

“I’m not so sure,” Jenny said thoughtfully. “I read somewhere that there are really hundreds of covens all over the country. Some of them are the real thing and some just play at it for kicks.”

“But why me?”

“Why, that newspaper story, of course,” Jenny answered promptly. “They must have seen your picture and decided you’d be a star attraction at their little affair.”