of a natural step in her progression to womanhood. What if he risked his heart and she kicked it aside when she got through this phase? She was young, and she’d bounce back. But Calhoun had never loved before, and the thought of being rejected terrified him.
He stared down at her with bitter realization darkening his eyes to black. He’d fallen into the trap that he’d swore he’d never be taken by. Now here they were, almost lovers, and she was telling him that it was all a mistake. He felt as if she’d hit him in the chest with an ax.
“Would you take me home, please?” she asked without looking at him.
He straightened. “Of course.”
He turned toward the bedroom, and she sat on the sofa, reaching for the purse she’d tossed there when they’d first arrived. She sat twisting and turning it, listening to his quick, sharp movements in the bedroom while he dressed. Her eyes closed in mingled shame and embarrassment. It had only just occurred to her how many liberties she’d allowed him, how close they’d come to making love completely. She hadn’t had the presence of mind to think of stopping, and neither had he. If that woman hadn’t interrupted them—
Her face went hot. He’d been undressing her. He wouldn’t have stopped at all, he hadn’t had any intention of denying himself. And afterward, how would it have been? She’d have been eaten up by guilt and sorrow, and he’d have felt obligated to marry her because she’d been a virgin. He’d have been well and truly trapped.
She didn’t take seriously anything Calhoun had said in the semi-darkness of his bedroom, because men didn’t think when they were engulfed by passion. Even though she was innocent, she knew that much. He’d wanted her for a long time, and tonight had been his one chance to get her into bed. He’d almost taken her. He knew she loved him, and it didn’t even seem to bother him that he was taking advantage of something she couldn’t help.
Calhoun came into the living room minutes later, pale and strained but neatly dressed. He’d even combed his thick blond hair. After one quick glance, she didn’t look at him again. She stood up.
He opened the door for her, noticing her unnatural stiffness. “I don’t know what to say, Abby,” he said quietly. “I don’t know how she traced me here.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she replied, looking only as high as his chin. “It would be unrealistic to expect that we’d never run across any of your discarded lovers.”
His dark eyes flashed fire. He reached beside her and slammed the door before she could get out, forcing her shocked eyes up to his angry ones.
“And that’s what you think you would have been if she hadn’t interrupted us?” he asked coldly.
She ground her teeth together to keep from breaking down. “You weren’t going to stop,” she said.
“I couldn’t stop,” he corrected. “Any more than you could. If you want to know, it was a first. I’ve always been able to pull back before.”
“Should I be flattered?” she asked on a trembling laugh. “Because I’m not. Bodies are cheap.”
“Yours isn’t,” he returned. “Yours is young and sweet and exquisitely formed. Innocent, when I’ve never had innocence in my life. I might have been half out of my head, but I’d have managed to make you want me back and I wouldn’t have hurt you.”
“And after you were through?” she probed, lifting her pained eyes.
He touched her swollen lips with a cool forefinger. “That would have taken all night,” he said softly. “And by then you wouldn’t have had any doubts left about where we stood with each other. I’d have made sure of it.”
She flushed. “I’d have been another conquest….”
He drew her against him, sighing heavily as he smoothed her long, dark hair and felt her body shake with soft sobs.
“It’s just frustration, sweetheart,” he whispered at the top of her head. “You wanted me and I wanted you, and neither of us had fulfillment, that’s all. It passes.”
Her curled fingers pressed against him while tears ran down her pale cheeks. “I hate you,” she cried.
He only smiled, because he understood. He kissed her hair gently. She was so very young. Too young, probably. He drew in a slow, sad breath and wondered how he was going to live without her.
“You’ve got to see Maria about your birthday party,” he said after a few minutes. “She’s going to hire a caterer. And you’ll have to provide a guest list for us. I can have one of the women at the office send out the invitations.”
She drew back, sniffing, and he pulled out a handkerchief and mopped her face. “You don’t have to do that,” she mumbled.
“We want to.” He touched the handkerchief to her red eyes. “I won’t come near you until then, Abby,” he added to her surprise. His dark gaze was quiet and unblinking, and it did wild things to her pulse. “I won’t call you, or take you out, or see you until then.”
“Because of tonight?” she asked with what dignity she still possessed.
“In a way.” He put the handkerchief away and searched her face. “You’re afraid of giving in to me, aren’t you?”
She moved restlessly.
“Aren’t you?” he persisted.
She bit her lower lip. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“I won’t have you forced into a marriage you don’t want,” she said warily. “Calhoun, you aren’t a marrying man. You even told me so.”
He brushed his mouth against hers, and he nuzzled her nose with his, teasing her lips, playing with her mouth.
“Abby, I told you not so long ago that my playboy days were over, and I meant it,” he said softly. “I haven’t lived like a recluse, but in the past few years, I’ve settled down. And if you want the truth,” he added, resting his forehead on hers, “I haven’t thought of any other woman since the night I found you bare-breasted on your bed, little one. You’ve been in my bed every night since then, a vision that haunts me from dawn to dusk.”
Her heart jumped straight up. He’d never lied to her. He wasn’t doing it now, she knew.
“Me?” she whispered.
He smiled gently. “You.” He brushed her mouth lazily with his. “And if you’d given yourself to me in my bedroom a few minutes ago,” he whispered, “we’d have been on our way to get a marriage license by morning.”
“Because of your conscience?” she asked.
He chuckled softly. “Because of my body,” he breathed. “Lovemaking is addictive. The way I want you, little Abby, I’d have you pregnant by the end of the first week.”
She flushed wildly and hid her face from him, feeling his chest shake with laughter.
“Did you hear what I said,” he whispered, “when you warned me about the risk?”
Her
