The Harder They Fall Page 13

  Her jangled emotions made it difficult to respond. So did the carefully masked concern on his face. He looked mouthwateringly perfect in his sport jacket and fitted trousers. She’d never seen a man wear clothes quite so well. “How am I?” It wasn’t in her to be less than honest. “Embarrassed,” she admitted, deciding to keep the confused and aroused part to herself.

  “Don’t be,” he said softly. “We all have something in our past.”

  “Yeah, but we don’t all have that little something aired out in the open.”

  “Is that what’s bugging you most?” he asked in astonishment. “That I know?”

  “That,” she answered evenly, “and the fact that I don’t know much about your past.”

  “It’s really boring,” he said, surprising her by reaching out to touch her cheek softly. “And anyway, I’ve got to go, I’ve got a meeting.”

  “Oh, well, then.” Trisha smiled and tried not to be hurt about his lack of interest in revealing a thing about himself. “Have a good day.”

  “You too.” He tossed his keys in the air, catching them easily. She recognized the gesture as a nervous one and wondered what the stoic Dr. Adams could possibly be nervous about.

  “Could we ... get together tonight?” he asked, unusually hesitant.

  A date. Well, finally! He’d completely forgiven and forgotten she’d ordered him out of her life. Now, if she could just be so lucky as to have him not discuss her past or sell the house, she was home free. “That would be nice,” she said in a huge understatement, wondering frantically what she would wear, where he would take her, what they would do. If he’d kiss her again. “I’d love that, actually,” she blurted out loud without meaning to.

  “Good,” he said with some relief, obviously completely unaware of where her thoughts had led her. Good thing she didn’t blush easily. “Because we didn’t finish our discussion last night.... We have things to resolve.”

  “To resolve,” she repeated slowly, her euphoria fading as understanding dawned.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you by putting the house up for sale,” he continued quietly. “That’s the last thing I want to do, but—”

  “You want to talk.”

  “Yes. Talk.”

  Not a date, she thought. All he wanted was to finish their talk—the talk she had no intention of finishing. Oh, she was an idiot. Such an idiot, in fact, she had to laugh. It was that or cry, and crying wasn’t even an option. Not with Hunter standing there looking at her as if she were a basket case.

  “I’ll be home around six-thirty,” he started, then broke off abruptly at her darkening expression. “Is that a bad time?”

  Oh, the man was a prize. A Ph.D. in whatever it was he did in space, but he didn’t know the first thing about women. “For a discussion?” she asked sweetly, her hands on her hips. “Yes, actually, Dr. Adams, it is. If you’ll excuse me...” Annoyed at herself, and more hurt than she wanted to admit, she brushed past him and headed toward her car.

  He followed her, his brow furrowed in befuddlement. “What is a good time?” he wanted to know.

  At her car, she fumbled through her purse for her keys. Why was it she could never find them when she wanted to make a dramatic exit? “I’m not really sure.”

  He straightened and gave her a long look, as if he’d just figured out she was out of sorts. “Why is that?”

  “Well, because I don’t run my life on a schedule as you seem to.” Darn it, where were her keys?

  “Trisha,” he said softly, turning her to him. “What is wrong?”

  “Nothing—” she started, but he shook his head sharply. “Nothing and everything and I don’t know,” she said, exhaling painfully. “Oh, God. Fine. I thought—I thought you were asking me out.”

  “On a date?” He looked startled.

  “Yeah. How ridiculous, huh?” She pushed at him, useless when the man stood solid as a wall. “Please, just go to work.”

  He squeezed her shoulders gently. “You thought I was asking you out.” He marveled, shaking his head at himself. Then he looked at her, his eyes deep and spilling over with laughter and affection. “I didn’t realize you would accept.”

  “Didn’t realize—” She clamped her mouth shut to keep from sputtering. What did he think after the other night, that she let every man who saved her from a fire touch her like that?

  “The other night,” he said carefully. “Before the fire department came, I told you we couldn’t do this. You said—”

  “I know what I said.” For tonight, she’d told him. And fool that all men were, he’d believed her. “I wasn’t asking you to marry me, Hunter. Just a date.”

  “I know. I’m sorry, just forget—”

  “Go to work, Hunter, you’re safe from me. Just stop looking at me.”

  He didn’t stop, he only moved closer.

  She backed up. “Don’t touch me, either,” she warned when he reached for her, suddenly grinning a little. “And stop laughing at me.”

  “Is that all?” he asked with a straight face. “Don’t look at you, don’t touch you, and don’t, for heaven’s sake, laugh at you?”

  “That’s right.” Good Lord, she sounded ridiculous, but false pride refused to let her take back her words. “I can’t think when you do any of those things.”

  His lips twitched and she folded her arms over her middle. “I mean it.”

  “Of course you do,” he murmured, leaning close to plant his lips on hers. It rendered her dumb, so he took advantage and did it a second time, wetter, deeper, with far more hunger and heat.

  “I said don’t look at me,” she whispered when she could breathe again.

  “I didn’t,” he whispered back, his eyes laughing now. “I had my eyes closed. And I didn’t touch you either.” Guilelessly, he lifted his hands. “See?”

  No, he hadn’t had to touch her. Not when her traitorous body had leaned of its own accord against his long, harder one. “Go away, Hunter.”

  “I’ll see you tonight, Trisha,” he whispered, and slid his lips over hers once again in a light kiss that shimmered with promise and passion, before turning and walking away. “We’ll make it a date.”

  He whistled as he confidently strode off, not bothering to wait and see whether she would accept his offer. She guessed he knew her better than she wanted to admit. He hadn’t waited, because he knew she’d say yes.

  She frowned and rubbed her chest where it pounded excitedly from just a simple kiss.

  Damn him and damn her, but she wanted another.

  Twelve

  Luckily for Trisha’s life, driving had become second nature. Her thoughts, far from the road, raced. She felt exhausted and bone-deep weary, both from too many emotions and too little sleep.

  But suddenly things seemed different, less dire. Even more surprising, she felt so strangely light, so amazingly unburdened. Nothing had been resolved, and certainly Hunter could still decide to sell the duplex and walk right out of her life, but the weight of her past didn’t seem so overwhelming anymore.

  For some reason, having Hunter say the horrors out loud had put things in a less painful perspective. The past could no longer hurt her. The only thing that could do that now would be Hunter walking away before they even started.

  What was and could be between them held her thoughts now, and she instinctively knew, if Hunter let it, it would be the best thing that had ever happened to her.

  She opened Leather and Lace, having beat Celia in for the first time all week. She flipped on the lights, the heater, and some music before settling herself to open her new shipment. She stared down into the box, stunned.

  The local distributor she’d used was not new. In fact, they used him frequently, and often the shipments came with bonus items as a thank-you for the business. This shipment, given what had caught her eye, was no exception.

  She’d gotten a bonus, all right.

  Just then Celia walked into the shop, her hair a startling platinum blond. “Hey, sweetie. I’v
e been worried sick. I called all night and—” She broke off. “You look like hell. Face drawn and stressed and—are you laughing?”

  “Yes,” Trisha said, shaking with it. “But not at you. Come in here and look at this stuff. And don’t remind me that I’m mad at you. We’ll discuss that whole issue later.”

  “But why didn’t you return my calls? I was worried—”

  “Celia, what the hell is this for?” From the box in front of her, she pulled out a leather whip.

  Celia let out a startled laugh as she studied their new stock. “Why did you order that?”

  “I didn’t, and in case you’re interested, I had my hands full with the man you decided to spill my guts to. Thanks a lot, by the way.”

  “He deserved to know, Trisha. He looked sick, thinking he’d done something to set you off.”

  “Well, he did.” Trisha dug deeper into the box, past a chain-link bra-and-panty set. “He’s thinking about selling the duplex, but I suppose you figured that out by yourself.”

  “Trisha.” Celia laid a hand on her arm. “I think he’s as scared as you are.”

  “Of what?”

  “Your feelings for each other.”

  Trisha dropped a selection of silk scarves and looked at her friend. “I’m not afraid.”

  “You’re both scared silly and you know it. He wants to run like hell, yet he can’t because he wants to stay at the same time. It’s like going on a date in quicksand, you know?”

  “Great. Now you tell me.” Trisha rolled her eyes. “I have a date with him in the deepest, wettest quicksand you’ve ever seen—tonight.”

  Celia smiled. “Bring these.” She pulled out several beautiful scarves. “You can always tie each other up so neither one of you can run.”

  Trisha laughed, a little uneasily. “I don’t think he planned on asking me out, not really.” This was the embarrassing part, but what the heck, she couldn’t humiliate herself more than she already had the day before. “I sort of corralled him into it, to tell you the truth.”

  “Then you’ll really need these.” She dropped the scarves into Trisha’s lap. “Hold him hostage until he admits his feelings.”

  She’d need more than silk to hold that man down. As huge and powerful as he was, she couldn’t imagine anyone keeping him against his will.

  “Oh, good Lord, is that a—it is.” Gingerly, Celia reached into the box and lifted a wooden paddle. “Wow. Heavy thing, isn’t it? What did you want this for, besides the obvious, I mean.”

  Trisha had to laugh at the speculative look Celia gave the paddle as she weighed it carefully in her hand. “I didn’t order these things. They came extra. And oh, my God—look at this.” She held up a pair of handcuffs.

  “Oooh,” Celia said, convulsing with laughter. “Give me a pair. I’ve got a date tonight, too, and he’s willing as hell.”

  “You’re sick.” But for the next half hour they pulled out an assortment of sex toys, giggling and snorting hysterically like a pair of schoolgirls.

  They laughed all the harder when their first customer appeared, caught a look at some of the devices in the box, and wanted to know how much they cost.

  All in all, it was a surprisingly good day, made all the better for Trisha when she got home and still no “For Sale” sign had been posted.

  Feeling generous toward the world, and more than a little smug since she’d had a stellar day at the store, her mood was light It would have been even lighter if she’d remembered to stop at the post office to mail back her shipment of wicked toys, but oh well.

  Organization was not a strong suit.

  Before she got out of the car, she twisted in her seat to grab the box in question, unwilling to leave it in her car overnight. Just her luck, they’d get stolen and she’d have to report a list of missing sex toys.

  Laughing a little at herself, Trisha went inside her apartment. Not messy, yet far from spotless, it definitely had that lived-in look. Books and magazines littered the coffee table, but why clean them up before she’d finished reading them? In the middle of the chaos lay Duff, fast asleep on his back, spread-eagled.

  “Just like a man,” she told him, scratching his belly until he awoke to rub his head affectionately against her.

  With over an hour to kill before her so-called date with Hunter, and her mood so light and unexpectedly carefree, she looked around for something fun to do. “I need to try something different,” she said aloud as she raided her disarrayed hall closet.

  Duff followed curiously.

  “Something challenging, something fun. Something that I won’t have to think about. They’re in here somewhere ... ah, here they are.”

  Triumphantly, she held up a pair of Rollerblades. She’d purchased them several months before and had never quite gathered the nerve to try them. She had that nerve now. “Hey,” she said to a clearly startled Duff, “anyone who can sort through that box of sensual stimulators can certainly learn to Rollerblade.”

  Duff stared at her doubtfully and walked away. With a shrug, Trisha padded herself up and headed out. On the driveway she carefully put on the skates and took a deep breath.

  Wobbling, she headed down the slight slope. At the bottom of the driveway, as if standing watch, sat Duff. As she headed toward him, gathering momentum, she waved her arms and murmured, “Oh, dear.”

  Gaining more speed, she yelled, “Move, Duff!”

  He crouched, but because of his complete faith in Trisha, he didn’t move.

  “Get out of the way!” she called to him, wildly waving her arms now, ankles trembling with the effort to stay upright.

  Too chicken to fall on the ground, and even more afraid to keep going, Trisha did the only sensible thing.

  She closed her eyes and screamed.

  Duff screamed back and, at the last instant, raced up the closest tree.

  Trisha, not as lucky, crashed directly into the trunk of the tree, which rained leaves and twigs down onto her.

  It took her a minute to regain her senses, and while she was doing so, she lay still on the sidewalk, sprawled gracelessly on her back, her eyes closed from the brightness of the setting sun. A mental inventory told her nothing was broken—except her pride.

  A car engine revved close by, then the vehicle pulled into the driveway a little recklessly. The door slammed, footsteps slapped on the ground as they ran to her.

  Leather shoes, Trisha reflected, her eyes still closed. Which meant only one person she could think of. She braced herself for the impact of that incredible voice.

  “My God, Trisha.” It was low and concerned, and every bit as sexy as she remembered. She heard his knees hit the ground beside her, pictured the new holes in his pants, and marveled at the amount of dry-cleaning damages she owed this man.

  “What the hell did you think you were doing?” he demanded as his large, gentle hands touched her.

  Hysterical laughter threatened. Blading definitely was not one of those things that was as easy as it looked.

  “You’re crazy,” he muttered, his fingers skimming down the backs of her legs. “Absolutely bonkers. Which makes me bonkers. God, Trisha. Say something.”

  That’s when the giggles hit her—the kind that couldn’t be subdued.

  “Please talk to me.” His hands shifted to her arms, carefully checking each limb, each joint. “You’re shaking.”

  Yeah, she was shaking, she was laughing so hard she couldn’t talk. Would she ever stop making a fool of herself in front of him? Unable to help herself, she continued to choke on laughter until her ribs ached. Images came to her, of all the idiotic things she’d recently done—falling into his arms while he’d been going to the bathroom, ruining the kitchen floor, accidentally setting off the fire alarm. She remembered the indescribable expression on his face that night as the sound of approaching fire trucks interrupted their lovemaking.

  Hunching herself into a ball and grabbing her stomach, she let loose with another round of laughter.

  Hunter swore
, a little desperately. His hands, low on her back, obviously checking for broken ribs, stilled. “I don’t think anything’s broken,” he said in a hoarse voice. “But I’m calling an ambulance anyway.”

  “No,” she gasped, getting ahold of herself with some effort. Lifting her head, she wiped her tears of mirth away. “Did you see it, Hunter? Did you see that terrific slide into the tree? Come on, admit it, I’m the most graceful person you know.”

  His eyes narrowed dangerously. “You’re—you’re laughing.”

  “Well, I certainly wouldn’t be crying, not now.” She sniffed and ran a finger beneath her eye, checking. “My mascara is going to run before our date.”

  “You’re laughing.” He shook his head. “I was sick ... and you’re laughing.”

  “You have to admit, it was pretty funny. I smashed into the tree at full speed.”

  He looked at her for a long moment, then sighed. “Trisha, you’re going to be the death of me, I swear it.” He swiped a hand hard over his face. “Did you know you just about gave me a heart attack? I’m cruising down the street and I see you slam yourself face-first into a tree. God.” He rubbed his chest and she suddenly cheered even more.

  “You care about me,” she said, grinning from ear to ear.

  He looked at her, shaking his head. “I have absolutely no idea why. I’ve never been so attracted to someone who laughed at me constantly.”

  So attracted. Her heart soared at the telling words, but she faked a wince. “That tree ... was pretty hard,” she said softly, wrinkling her forehead as if in sudden pain. “I think I’m feeling ... dizzy.”

  He looked at her doubtfully. “Are you?”

  “Yeah. Real dizzy.” For effect, she swooned a little.

  Though he dropped the doubtful act, he clearly saw right through her. Still, he opened his arms. She went willingly, sighing as they folded around her with delicious strength and warmth. He pulled her close and she ducked her face under his chin, pressing against his throat and neck, inhaling deeply.

  “Trisha?”

  “Hmm?” She was in heaven.