“How nice for you, to be able to put areas of your life in tidy little compartments and not let them touch! I’m not like that. I think that if a person is dishonorable in one thing, he will be in another.”
“Don’t be so damned unreasonable—”
“That was quite a blitzkrieg you put on,” Claire interrupted, her voice rising as she felt her control slipping. Fiercely she groped to regain it. “Does Anson Edwards know what a prize he has in you? Has any woman ever resisted you when you turn on the heat? I fell for it completely, so you can give yourself a pat on the back. Poor man,” she breathed, her eyes burning. “So handsome that women only treated you like a body without a soul, you were tired of meaningless sex and wanted someone to be a real friend. I must have the word ‘fool’ stamped on my forehead, because you knew just what line to feed me. You turned on the charm, forced yourself into my life and got the information you wanted, then waltzed out again. Fine. I was a fool once, but don’t expect me to be a fool again! I’m not really stupid—I don’t have to have my face rubbed in it!” Breathing hard, she turned away, rubbing her forehead with a trembling hand. Perhaps she was stupid, at that; she hadn’t learned all that much from Jeff’s betrayal. It had made her cautious, but not cautious enough. In the end she’d walked back into the vicious trap of loving a handsome, charming man who could have anyone he wanted and had dreamed the fool’s dream that he might love her in return.
“I didn’t ‘waltz out’!” he yelled, glaring down at her. Max rarely lost his temper. It was seldom necessary; he usually got what he wanted without having to put out that much effort, simply by using his charm and sensuality. But his reactions to Claire had been extreme from the beginning, and the cold contempt in her eyes triggered something fierce inside him. “I was called back to Dallas. You should know. You were in bed with me when the call came!”
The little remaining color washed out of her face, and she gave him an uncontrolled look of such naked pain that he halted. “Claire…” he began, reaching out for her, but she recoiled from him so violently that she bumped into the edge of the desk and sent papers flying.
“How kind of you to remind me,” she whispered. Her eyes were black in her paper-white face. “Get away from me.”
“No. It was good between us—I want to have it again. I won’t let you push me out of your life.”
She was visibly shaking, and he wanted to put his hands on her to support her but didn’t dare. All of a sudden her icy reserve had shattered before his eyes, leaving a woman who was almost staggering with pain. The realization struck him like a blow to the chest, taking his breath. She wasn’t an aloof, controlled woman, a little unfeeling, a challenge to his male sexuality. She put a buffer between other people and herself in an effort at self-protection because she felt too much and was too easily and too deeply hurt by life. He hadn’t understood her at all, casually counting on his sex appeal and charm to smooth things over as he’d always done, and so intent on getting her into bed that he’d overlooked all of the small signals she’d given him. God, what had he done to her? How deeply had he hurt her to put that look on her face?
“You don’t have any choice about it,” she said jerkily. “Do you really think I’d be stupid enough to trust you again? You lied to me, and you used me. It was all in a good cause, though, so that makes it all right in your eye
s. The end justifies the means, right? Please, just leave me alone.”
“No,” he said harshly, feeling a sudden, intense twist of pain in his gut at the thought that he might have lost her forever. He couldn’t accept that; he wouldn’t accept that! For reasons he couldn’t analyze, Claire had become increasingly precious to him, filling his thoughts during the day and his dreams at night. The night he’d spent with her had made him want more, a lot more.
“I’d say you’re going to have to, at least for now,” Sam interrupted from the doorway, his voice as cool as the look in his eyes. “Stop badgering her. She’s worn out.”
Max didn’t move a muscle except to turn his head to look at Sam, but suddenly there was something wild about him, a fine tension in his lean, deceptively muscled body, his eyes icy and lethal. “This doesn’t concern you,” he said, and he was every inch the predatory, aggressive male, with the primitive instinct to fight whenever another male approached the woman he’d marked as his.
“I’d say it does. After all, it was my company that you took, using the information Claire gave you.”
Max froze, then looked sharply at Claire. “He knows?”
Dumbly she nodded.
“Claire told me right away,” Sam said, leaning against the door. “As soon as she realized who you were. Her sense of honor is too strong for corporate games. She wanted to quit right then, but I talked her out of it.” At Max’s lifted brow, he added, “I knew she’d never let herself make that mistake again.”
Claire couldn’t stay and listen to them talk about her. She felt exposed and raw, her deepest secrets laid out for the world to examine and chuckle over. A small sound of distress escaped her as she walked past Max, keeping her head averted.
“Claire!” He moved swiftly, catching her arm again and pulling her to a halt. Desperately she wrenched at her arm, trying to twist it from his grip, but he caught her other arm and held her still in front of him. Biting her lip, she stared fixedly at the knot of his tie and struggled for control. Why did he have to hold her so close? She could feel his warmth, smell the exciting male muskiness of his skin. His nearness reminded her of things she would have to forget in order to survive. Her body felt the touch that had driven her to such feverish heights of pleasure and reacted wildly, independent of her control. Her nipples hardened, wanting the touch of his hands, his mouth; her legs quivered, wanting to wrap about his hips, and the emptiness in her wanted to be filled.
“Let me go,” she whispered.
“You’re not in any shape to drive. You haven’t eaten all day, and you look as if you might faint at any moment. I’ll drive you home,” he insisted.
“I wouldn’t go with you to a dogfight,” she said, using her last ounce of defiance. His grip slackened, and she pulled free, taking the chance to walk out of the office without him. It might be the only opportunity she had, and she was too upset to tolerate any more. Another minute and she would be weeping, completing her humiliation.
Her hurried steps carried her out of the building and to the parking lot. It was still raining lightly, but gusts of wind battered her, and flashes of lightning in the low-hanging purple clouds lit the darkness with momentary brilliance. The storm intensified the darkness, making the efforts of the streetlights seem ineffective. Her heels tapped sharply on the wet pavement as she ran to her car. She reached it and stopped to unlock it and only then heard the footsteps behind her. Cold terror washed down her spine, and tales of rape and robbery flooded her mind. Grasping her keys like a weapon, she whirled to face any assailants, but there was no one close to her. On the other side of the parking lot Max walked to his car and got in, and Claire sagged with relief.
Her hands were shaking as she opened the car door and slid behind the wheel, cautiously locking the door again. What if it had been a mugger or a rapist? How many articles had she read that warned women against going to their cars alone at night? She’d been foolish to let her emotions push her into a dangerous situation, and she drew a deep breath. She had to get control of herself.
She was still shaky, and the rain made the streetlights reflect dizzyingly on the wet streets. She drove with extra care, not wanting to risk an accident. She didn’t notice the car behind her until she turned down the street to her apartment building and the other car turned, too. Nervously she peered into the rearview mirror, trying to tell what kind of car it was, but the headlights were right in her eyes, and she couldn’t see anything. Was she so on edge tonight that she was becoming paranoid? Quickly she found a parking place and pulled into it, deciding to wait until the other car had gone on before she got out.
But the other car slowed and pulled into the empty parking space beside her. It was a black Mercedes, and the man driving it had golden hair that gleamed like a halo in the silvery artificial glow of the streetlight.
Still shaking, Claire leaned her head on the steering wheel. He was determined to talk to her, and she was beginning to realize that he didn’t give up once he’d decided to do something. How had she ever thought him civilized? He was as ruthless as any Viking, and she feared him as well as loved him because he would destroy her if she didn’t find a way to keep him at a distance, to protect herself with indifference.
He tapped on the window, and she jerked her head up.
“It’s raining harder,” Max said, his voice muffled through the glass. The rain beaded and ran down the windshield, emphasizing his words. “Let’s go in, dear. You’re going to get soaked if you wait much longer—I think a new storm is coming in.”
She flinched at the endearment, amazed at how easily it rolled off his tongue. How many other women had been fooled by his glib lies?