Fire and Ice. Diana Palmer
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she groaned. She looked away.
Andy opened the door and he and Jan climbed into the back seat, both of them smiling and on top of the world.
“Where to now, big brother?” Andy laughed.
“Home,” Cannon said, starting the car.
He let the Lincoln ease to a stop in front of Margie and Jan’s house minutes later and cut the ignition. When they reached the door he turned to Margie, while Andy and Jan said a slow, sweet good night a few feet away.
“I’ll pick you both up at six on Friday morning,” he said quietly.
“If you’d just give me the flight number and the airline…” she faltered, hating her own fear of him.
“Flight number?” He smiled coolly. “I have my own jet, honey. I’m going to fly us down.”
She knew that she was pale; she could feel the blood draining from her face. “I’d rather not….”
“I’ve been flying for twenty years, Margie,” he said with a tender note under the impatience. “I promise you I’m no daredevil when other lives depend on my actions.” He studied her narrowly. “You haven’t flown in a small aircraft since the crash that killed your husband?”
She studied his black tie. “No.”
“I’ll take care of you,” he said in a strange, soft tone that brought her eyes up to his involuntarily.
She was caught in that deep brown web again and a dark sweetness filled her.
“Come with me,” he murmured softly.
She tried to speak, but her breath caught. He was hypnotizing her, he was…
“I don’t have a choice…do I?” she whispered unsteadily.
“No,” he murmured absently. His eyes dropped to her soft, parted lips. “I haven’t wanted a woman’s mouth so much since my souped-up Chevy days,” he said so that only she could hear him.
“That I wouldn’t believe on a bet,” she said, trying to make light of it when her pulse was jumping like a frightened rabbit.
“Wouldn’t you?” He moved a step closer and her eyes dilated wildly. She’d already had a taste of his strength and it scared her. She didn’t want to find out if that sensuous, faintly cruel mouth was as expert as it looked.
“You’d hurt…” she said without thinking. She couldn’t think.
His eyes flashed down at hers and there was a matching wildness in them. “God, yes, I would,” he muttered under his breath. “And you’d fight me like a wildcat, wouldn’t you?”
She nodded slowly, unable to break the silver thread that bound them together. “Tooth and nail.”
“For the first few minutes,” he amended, letting his eyes drop slowly, boldly, over her body before they slid back up to meet her own. “After that…”
She cleared her throat. “I have an appointment Friday….”
“Break it,” he said curtly. “I meant what I said. If you back out, Jan doesn’t come, either.”
She searched his dark eyes, confused, uncertain. “Will you at least listen to me if I come?”
“Yes,” he said, and she knew he meant it.
“Then I’ll do it.”
His lifted his chin slightly. “I won’t promise more than I can deliver, Margie.”
“I never thought you would,” she said with a smile.
He studied her again, his gaze lingering on the bodice. “Maybe I was wrong about one thing,” he murmured.
“What?” she asked.
“The padded bra,” he whispered.
She ground her teeth together to keep from slapping him, but the color in her cheeks was unpreventable.
“You’re outrageous!” she told him.
“Righteous indignation?” he asked mockingly. “Ruffled modesty? I thought you were a liberated woman.”
“You make me feel about thirteen,” she slung at him, and then felt like sinking into the floor for admitting such a thing to such a man.
“Do I really?” he taunted.
“Good night, Mr. Van Dyne,” she muttered, turning.
“No parting kiss?” he asked with dark insolence.
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