White Satin (16 page)

It was the first time she’d ever heard Anthony speak about his childhood. He’d never made any secret of the fact he’d grown up in poverty, but he kept the details of his upbringing as strictly confidential as the rest of his past.

“That must have been very difficult for you.” Her eyes were thoughtful. “I can see how my carelessness must have annoyed you.”

“It never annoyed me,” he said, surprised. “Growing up as you did, your habits are as natural to you as mine are to me. We all develop as our environment dictates.”

“You didn’t,” she said softly. “Growing up in a
tenement, you shouldn’t have gotten nearly as far as you did. How do you explain that?”

“Let’s just say I had a few other inducements besides poverty to break free of my environment,” he said evasively. He settled down into the corner breakfast booth and lazily stretched out his legs before him. “Now what were you saying about that hot chocolate, slave?”

The subject was closed. Nothing could be clearer, and Dany turned away to the cabinet with an exasperated toss of her head. She shouldn’t be so impatient, she knew. In the past few days Anthony had been more open and giving to her than ever before. He’d talked of his work as head of Dynathe, regaled her with amusing anecdotes of his life as the star of the Ice Revue. He’d even spoken briefly and unemotionally of Samuel Dynathe, who’d seen him skate in a charity-sponsored competition when Anthony was twelve and had become his patron and later his employer. But there were some subjects he just wouldn’t discuss, and one of them was his life before Dynathe appeared on the scene. It was perfectly maddening, because
Dany had an idea the key to Anthony’s reserve lay in the details of that period.

She still knew only the facets of Anthony’s personality and life he chose to share with her. If his manner was gradually becoming warmer and easier with her every day, it was something for which she was fervently grateful. But there were far too many sharp edges still. Foremost among them was his almost fanatic and incomprehensible insistence that need and gratitude had no place in their relationship, and his icy jealous rage whenever she mentioned Jack Kowalt. In moments like those she realized just how far they still had to go before they reached a total understanding.

She set a small saucepan on the stove and turned to the refrigerator to get the milk. “I’m sure the appearance of Samuel Dynathe on the scene must have made a difference,” she said with deceptive casualness. “From what you told me, he wouldn’t have wanted his protégé to damage his image. It must have been the male equivalent of the Cinderella story.” She poured the milk into the saucepan and turned the burner on low. “What did your parents think of it all?”

“Drop it, Dany.” His voice was so harsh and incisive, she cast a startled glance over her shoulder at him. His expression was even harder than his voice, his silver-green eyes bleak and cold. “I don’t feel like putting up with your amateur psychologist probing at the moment.”

“I just wanted—”

“I know what you wanted to do,” he interrupted roughly. “How the hell could I help it? You’re just like a bull terrier when you get your mind set on something. You want to save me from myself or some such rot.” His smile was distinctly unpleasant. “Before you concern yourself with my hang-ups, I’d suggest you exorcise your own.”

She carefully took the saucepan off the burner and turned slowly to face him. “What do you mean?”

“That never-ending search for love and approval. Everyone has to love Dany Alexander, don’t they? Beau, Marta, Kowalt, me. We all have to make up for the affection and attention you never received from your parents. Even the gold isn’t going to be a reward for achievement so much as a bribe to the whole damn world.” He
laughed harshly. “That’s what you told me, remember? ‘I’m going to win the gold someday and then everybody’s going to love me.’ ”

She shivered as she folded her arms across her chest. Every word he spoke tore at her like tiny knives. Was he right? Was she demanding more than she should from everyone around her because of some desperate craving for attention? “Yes, I remember,” she whispered, her face suddenly pale and haunted. “I guess I never realized that I was like that.”

His expression suddenly changed and he was on his feet and across the room in a few rapid steps. “That’s because it’s not true.” His arms enfolded her with a tenderness that was a balm to the rawness of the wound. His lips pressed against her temple and he began rocking her as if she were a hurt little girl. “That’s because you’re sweet and beautiful and naturally loving.” His voice was muffled in her hair. “Which makes you a choice target for bastards like me. You don’t have any armor to defend yourself with and every barb strikes home.”

“But perhaps you were right.” Her voice was troubled. “Maybe I am—”

“I wasn’t right,” he said roughly. “You made me angry and I struck back instinctively.” He was suddenly lifting her and carrying her over to the booth. “And my instincts aren’t always civilized. Occasionally I revert to the doctrine of the streets. Where I grew up, any punch—clean or dirty—was applauded if it brought the other guy down.” He sat down on the edge of the bench and cradled her in his arms. “That one was definitely a low blow, Dany.”

The rawness was gradually disappearing under his gentleness. “Well, it was certainly effective,” she said shakily as she settled her cheek into her favorite place beneath his collarbone. “It sort of took my breath away.”

“I know, I could see it.” His voice beneath her ear was husky. “If it’s any comfort, I think it hurt me more than it did you. I always seem to be putting my foot in my mouth.”

“Impossible,” she said lightly. “Not our silver-tongued tycoon, the diplomat of the boardroom.”

“It’s different with you.” His hand moved to
the elastic of her ponytail, and her hair was suddenly tumbling to her shoulders. “I
care
about you.”

“I thought I’d weaned you away from those euphemisms.” Her lips pressed to the hollow in his throat. “Say it, dammit.”

“I love you.” His arms tightened around her with crushing force. “I
do
love you. Lord, I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“That was very satisfactory,” she said shakily. “Just the right note of sincerity. See that you keep it up. As you may have noticed, I need that kind of treatment very frequently.”

“I’m much better at demonstrations.” His lips were pulling gently at her earlobe. “Let’s go to bed.”

She tilted her head back to meet his eyes in surprise. There had been nothing in the least sensual in his demeanor, only that lovely gentleness that shone so brightly in contrast to the sharpness that had gone before. “Now?”

“Now,” he said softly. “I want to make love to you. I want to know I’ve erased those words from your mind. I want to give you so much pleasure,
you’ll forget I ever said them. I want to
give
to you, Dany.” His voice held a desperate honesty. “I may not be able to give you the pretty phrases you need, but I can show you how I feel. Making love is one thing I know well.”

“So I’ve observed.” There was a twinkle in her eyes despite the tightness of her throat. “It’s not necessary, you know. I wouldn’t want to cause you any undue hardship.”

He ignored her flippancy, his tone intense. “I don’t think you really believed me before. It’s not just sex. When I make love to you, it means something. Will you let me show you?”

“If it means that much to you,” she said, a little throatily.

“It does mean that much.” He rose to his feet with her in his arms and strode swiftly out of the kitchen toward the bedroom. “It means a hell of a lot.”

When she thought about that afternoon later, it was with a strange, dreamlike ecstasy. The entire period was a contrast of sharp contours and soft hazy fragments that merged together into an unforgettable whole. The dimness of the bedroom
that shadowed Anthony’s face above her made the silver-green of his eyes glow flamelike. Dany felt the touch of soft, skillful lips on her thighs; his hands, sensitive to every nuance of response, traveled over her with a magical tenderness so moving, she felt the tears brim and then roll slowly down her cheeks. He knew how to please her now, and he took his time, arousing and then checking any number of times so that her passion would build to a summit of sensation so intense, it couldn’t be stemmed. Then, when they were both breathless and shaking from a completion that was as wildly exciting as the anticipation she had felt before, he would begin again.

He murmured husky words in her ear.

“Do you like that, love?”

“Shall I touch you there a little longer?”

“I love it when you cry out like that. I want to make you do it again. Oh, yes, that sounds so sweet.”

“Tell me if you like this. It’s a little different, but … ah, I thought you would.”

It went on and on, words of sweet desire that
held no vestige of his usual dominant aggressiveness. He’d said he wanted to pleasure her, and he went about it with an almost boyish eagerness. He seemed to delight in every cry or gasp of fulfillment that broke from her, refusing with gentle firmness to let her give him a similar pleasure.

Late afternoon had faded into twilight and then into early evening when Anthony finally settled her against his shoulder in an embrace that was lovingly affectionate. His fingers combed lazily through her hair with a hypnotic, soothing motion. “You see, I’m much better at demonstrations.”

“I’m not about to argue that point,” she said drowsily. “I may never ask you to open your mouth again.” She suddenly chuckled. “Except for the use to which you so recently put it.”

“I thought you’d qualify that,” he said, amused. “You did appear to enjoy yourself exceedingly.”

“Oh, yes.” She sighed. “Definitely yes.”

“Good.” For a moment there was a thread of that former desperation in his tone. “That’s what I
wanted. Now, whatever happens, you’ll know I can at least give you that.”

She felt a stir of uneasiness. This moment was so beautiful, she didn’t want any element of strife to shatter it. “Well, there was one little problem.”

She felt him stiffen against her. “I did something you didn’t like?”

“Are you kidding? You’d have to be mentally defective not to realize how much I loved everything you were doing to me.” She paused. “It’s just that I feel guilty as the devil you wouldn’t let me give you the same pleasure.”

He relaxed. “Some other time,” he said lightly, “I’ll keep the offer in mind.” He hesitated. “There is one thing you could do for me.” There was a trace of mischief in his voice that so rarely surfaced.

She answered warily. “Really? What’s that?”

“If you think I’ve earned it, could I have my hot chocolate now?”

“Are you sure you’re feeling all right?” Dany asked anxiously as she set Anthony’s cup of coffee on the table by the couch. “You scarcely touched your dinner.”

“I’m fine,” he said, a touch of impatience in his voice. “That’s the third time you’ve asked me that this evening. What does it take to convince you, for heaven’s sake? I just wasn’t hungry.”

She winced. She wasn’t used to that razor sharpness in Anthony’s tone any longer, and it hurt. “Sorry,” she said in a subdued tone as she sat down beside him on the couch. “It’s just that
you’ve been so quiet all day and you didn’t eat much for lunch either.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean that I’m at death’s door,” he said caustically. “I do have a few things to think about, you know. One of which is how to get you to concentrate on those compulsory figures. The tracings on that second set were rotten. We have to return to Briarcliff tomorrow and you’ll leave for Calgary the day after. Time’s running out, and you’re still acting as if you can breeze right through the Olympics as if it were a regional competition.”

She bristled. “You’re the one who told me I was overtraining. You can’t have it both ways, Anthony.”

“You’re not going to have it any way at all if you mess up the compulsories so that you go into the freestyle with too much ground to make up,” he said grimly. “Those judges are tough as hell, and nationalism definitely enters into the picture, despite what the committee will tell you.”

“I know all that,” she said, her lips trembling. “I also know I get impatient occasionally and screw
up on the compulsories. I thought I was getting better about it, though. Were they that bad, Anthony?”

“They weren’t good.” He picked up his cup and took a sip of coffee. He made a face and set the cup back on the saucer. “That tastes terrible. What the devil did you put in it?”

There was no pleasing him tonight, she thought crossly. “Next time I’ll let you make it yourself, since it appears you’re the authority on everything around here.”

“Do that,” he said curtly. “If you can’t do something right, it’s better not to do it at all.”

“So speaks the great perfectionist. Doesn’t your halo ever get a little heavy, Anthony?”

“If you don’t maintain—” He stopped suddenly and shook his head as if to clear it. “Good God, what the hell am I saying?” His hand combed through his hair distractedly. “You’re right, I sound like some third-rate dictator.”