disillusioned and heartsick. Head bowed, she grappled with the idea of
an attraction based on a lie.
Ross materialized before her. "Did it matter so much?" he asked softly.
When she neither answered nor looked up, he put a finger under her chin
and forced it up. Her eyes were dry, but she knew they held pain. She
couldn't hide that, couldn't even try.
"Did it?" he asked.
Chloe felt a well of emotion, emotion that had lain dormant for years.
Ross was so close that the warmth of his body was an intoxicant. She
used the power of that to speak. "Yes. It mattered more than you can
imagine."
"But why? The physical attraction between us had nothing to do with
outer trappings. As I recall, we shed our clothes pretty fast." Chloe
tried to pull away, he held her chin. "Don't run from it. There was
something between us that you can't deny. Are you telling me you made
love to an image?" His tone was suddenly cooler. "Was it an experiment
for you? Was I a tool in your rebellion?" His fingers tightened on her
jaw. Reflexively, she held his wrist.
"No. That wasn't it at all." She was hurt that he would suggest it. "All
you seem to think about is the physical act. Yes, there was a physical
attraction. With and without clothes. But for me, at least, there was
more involved. There had to be." Her voice rose. "I was a virgin, for
God's sake."
Ross must have felt her hurt, because he relaxed his grip. He moved his
fingers back to her ear, pushing them through the long strands of her
hair with infinite gentleness.
"I know that," he whispered. His eyes held the same tenderness they had
on that night, when he had first introduced her to the art of love.
Then, the world had been hers on a string. It certainly wasn't now,
still her heart pounded in her chest the very same way. Now, as then,
she was being held by the most appealing man she had ever known. He was
a leader, a freethinker. He was boldly gentle, gently bold. He had
confidence without arrogance, success without acclaim. He was a man who
didn't mince words. She felt an instinctive respect for him.
Much of this same appeal had beckoned to her on that night. Other
details might be forgotten, but not Ross and the force that bound them.
It was an unfathomable force, but frightfully powerful. Eleven years
ago, it had driven the fact of her innocence from her mind. Now it
obliterated all remembrance of what had happened so soon after that
night to irrevocably change Chloe's life and outlook.
As Ross's large hands framed her face, she felt a special warmth steal
through her, awakening senses from hibernation like the coming of
spring. Her cheeks flushed with the heat. Her lips parted. She was
entranced all over again.
He moved closer, his face lowering. When she closed her eyes it was to
savor the feather touch of his mouth on hers. It seemed she had waited
forever to know its sweetness again. And guilt? Guilt was light-years
away, beyond a far horizon she hoped never to reach. It had been
pervasive over the years, but was out of place now. She wanted more of
Ross, if only to keep the past safely blotted from her mind.
Opening her eyes, she found Ross's hot above her. His breath was
unsteady, but he waited. She sensed he was giving her a chance to turn
and run, but that was the last thing she wanted to do.
She met his kiss with an eagerness she hadn't known for eleven years.
All the power of her femininity that had been stored up and denied now
burst forth. Ross's lips were firm and knowing in response to her
passion, dominating then submitting, teasing then yielding. They
explored the ripe curve of her mouth with a thoroughness surpassed only
when his tongue entered the act. And Chloe opened herself more with each
darting flicker, with each exchange of breath.
She had come alive and was aflame. At some point her arms found his neck
and coiled beyond, drawing her slender body firmly against his longer,
harder one. His hands played over her back, caressing every inch from
hip to neck with the devastating touch of those long fingers.
And she was caught in the web they spun, neither able nor willing to
move away.
Everything about Ross was utterly male, from the musky scent of his skin
to the trim tapering of the hair at the top of his collar, to the lean
line of his torso and the corded steel of his thighs. It was as though
Chloe was innocent again, as though this was that first ecstatic night
relived. She was intoxicated.
When he groaned and crushed her to him, she understood the feeling. It
was a statement of a shared primal need. Ross held something for her
that no other man had begun to offer. She was driven by instinct closer,
closer to him.
At some point, soft bells of warning sounded. She didn't know if it was
when his hand slipped from her cheek to her throat, or when his fingers
began to knead her breast, or when his palm turned to her nipple. She
only knew of a tug between some relic of the past that clamored for
recognition, and the quickly coiling knot of need deep inside.
She fought that past by nurturing the need. Hands locked at the back of
his neck, she closed her eyes, let her head fall back, and sought the
mindlessness of sensual pleasure. Her lips parted; her breathing was
short. But she needed more. Against her better judgment, against those
tiny warning bells, she grew bolder. Bowing her head, bracing it against
his chin, she was curved now, offering him an entrance he hadn't had
before.
Small explosions of delight flared through her when he slid his hand
into her dress. Surrounded, her breast was warm, full, and straining
against his hand. His thumb and forefinger met at a nipple, driving her
higher. Did reason exist? At that instant she knew of only one road to
satisfaction.
"Come upstairs with me," Ross said in a voice thick with need. "Let me
love you. It's been so long, princess."
Princess. It struck her that he had done the same thing she hadformed an
image and held it through the years. In his mind she was still one step
removed from royalty. But not in hers.
She strained away from his hands. "Please stop, I can't do this."
Aroused still and upset with herself, she trembled.
"Can't?" he challenged hoarsely.
"Won't," she amended as she clutched at threads of composure. Eleven
years ago she hadn't refused him. Her virginity had never had a chance.
But things were different now. She was different.
"Why not, Chloe?"
She heard hurt, but it didn't make her relent. "I wish I could explain."
"Why can't you? I've seen that pained look in your eyes. At those
moments-at this moment-you do look unhappy. Is it something about me?
Something about what happened eleven years ago?"
For all of those eleven long years, Chloe had hidden a world of inner
feelings from everyone around her. They were locked in tight. He could
prod all he wanted, but they weren't getting out.
He spoke more gently. "Here. Sit down. I'll make us some coffee. You can
talk."
"I don't want to talk. Some things are best left dead and buried." She
shuddered at her own choice of words.
"Sit." He nudged her into the chair she had left, and she sat, if only
because her legs were unsteady. He proceeded to clear the table, rinse
everything, and perk a small pot of coffee. She watched almost
incidentally, her thoughts far off in a world of what-it's. What if
Crystal had won that toss of the coin? What if Crystal had set out to
seduce Ross and been seduced herself.? What if Crystal had died anyway?
Would Chloe feel the same guilt now?
"How do you take it?" Ross asked, placing a steaming mug before her.
"Black. Thank you."
After lacing his own with milk and sugar, he returned to his seat.
Chloe tried to control her thoughts by speaking first. "You've come a
long way in the business world since I saw you last, Ross. How did you
manage it?"
He smiled. "You mean, how did I manage the transformation from'far out'
to 'far in'? The fact is, I never was all that 'far out.' I went my own
way for a while. I avoided money. I grew a beard because there wasn't
modern plumbing where I was in Africa, and I didn't want to have to
shave at dawn by the riverside. I wore jeans because they were
comfortable, same with loose shirts. I'd grown up in a world of rigid
discipline. I wanted my freedom."
""Rigid discipline'?" She realized again how little she knew of Ross.
He eyed her with something akin to amusement. "Y'know, considering you
slept with the man the first time you met him .. ."
"That's not fair," she argued. "When we were together, I couldn't think
straight."
"History repeats itself," he drawled, referring to what had happened
moments earlier with a mischievous grin.
Chloe didn't like being ribbed. "You didn't know any more about me that
night." But rather than turning the tables, she was more deeply
incriminated.
"Neither of us did much talking, did we?" Ross asked, clearly enjoying
himself She shook her head. The only talking they'd done had been in
soft moans and caresses. The attraction between them had been
overpowering. "I want you to know that I don't do that as a rule. I
mean, I don't make a habit of-"
"-jumping into bed with every guy that comes along? I know that, Chloe."
He smiled gently. "I told you that we had something special. Do you
think I sleep with every pretty woman I meet?"
"Of course not. I just wanted you to know not to expect something I
can't give."
"Won't give," he corrected a second time. "The end result is the same.
You understand, don't you?"
"No, I hear you. I'm listening." He was sober. "But I don't understand.
You haven't given me a good reason to understand yet. Most women with
your looks would have reached the point, at age twenty-nine, where they
could recognize something deeper."
Chloe felt stymied. "What do my looks have to do with anything?"
The amber gaze that touched her curves gave the answer even before he
spoke. "You're beautiful, Chloe. Beautiful women have options. You've
never married?"
"No."
"You must date often."
"I have friends."
"Male friends?"
"Some."
"Serious male friends?"
When she shrugged, he looked at the ceiling. "What I'm trying to find
out is whether you're going with someone, living with someone, or
engaged to someone."
For an instant, Chloe imagined he was a frustrated suitor. She smiled at
the thought. "No, Ross. I date here and there, but there's no one
special. I live alone."
When he expelled a breath, she suspected it was for effect. "Thank you,"
he added facetiously, then sobered. "Do you go home much?"
Chloe flinched. "No." That was another topic better left alone. "What
about you? What was that 'rigid discipline' you suffered through?"
"My father was heart-and-soul Army. A career man. Our house was run like
a barracks. It was almost a treat when I was sent to military school."
"Oh, my. It's no wonder you freaked out."
Ross laughed. "Freaked out? That's one from the old days."
Chloe smiled. "Sorry. It just slipped out. I can't remember the last
time I said that."
"Maybe way back in the time of you and me?" He stared at her, then gazed
pensively at the table. When he raised a hand and rubbed the muscles at
the back of his neck, Chloe followed the movement. She half-wished she
could do it for him, but dangerous was a mild word for that type of
thing. Once, danger had been a challenge. Now she wanted no part of it.
Ross's confession broke into her thoughts. "I may have been pretty
antiestablishment, at that. There was a certain amount of rebellion in
me against routine and schedules and expectations. I guess I wasn't much
different from the average flower child, except that I knew I'd be
returning to the fold before long. I saw that period for what it was-a
time in my life when I could stretch my legs."
Chloe chuckled. Her smoky gaze fell to the floor, where a pair of
wellshod feet, ankles crossed, extended well beyond her side of the
table. "An awesome task." She quirked a brow. "So how did you become a
successful businessman? You obviously didn't go into partnership with
your dad. But you've come a long way in eleven years. President of the
Hansen Corporation." She shook her head in amazement.
"I had a mentor, like you did," he explained. "I worked for him through
business school, then after. The business did well. I gradually acquired
stock. When Sherman died two years ago he left me shares enough to make
me the majority holder."
"Was the Rye Beach Complex your idea?"
"Actually, no. It was the baby of one of the other vice presidents.
Sherman seemed to feel it had merit."
"And you don't?" Considering the force of his presentation that evening,
she was startled.
"I do, with reservations."
"Why did you come up tonight then, rather than the VP who feels more
strongly about it?"
Ross shrugged. "He's no longer with the corporation." He didn't look
sorry. It struck Chloe that he might have fired the man, himself She
sensed his power. A free spirit, he had called himself Now he ruled a
prominent corporation. With an iron hand? Maybe. But he would use subtle
methods to reach his goals.
