Man of the Hour. Diana Palmer

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she exclaimed. She jerked her face back and it flushed red.

      “You made me think about what happened that last night we were together before we fought,” he said, as if she hadn’t reacted to the question at all. “I remember when you started fighting me. I remember what I said to you.”

      “This isn’t necessary…!” she broke in frantically.

      “I said that if we went all the way, it wouldn’t really matter,” he whispered deeply, holding her eyes. “Because I’d love making you pregnant.”

      She actually shivered and her body trembled as it sought the strength and comfort of his.

      He cradled her in his arms, barely moving to the music, his mouth at her ear. “You didn’t think I was going to stop. And you were afraid of a baby.”

      “Yes.”

      His fingers threaded into her soft, silky hair and he drew her even closer. His legs trembled against her own as the incredible chemistry they shared made him weak. And all at once, instantly, he was fully capable and she could feel it.

      “Don’t pull away from me,” he said roughly. “I know it repulses you, but, my God, it isn’t as if I can help it…!”

      She stilled instantly. “Oh, no, it isn’t that,” she whispered, lifting her eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you! You used to tell me not to move when it happened, remember?”

      He stopped dancing and his eyes searched hers so hungrily that she could hardly bear the intensity of the look they were sharing.

      His lips parted as he tried to breathe, enmeshed by his hunger for her, by the beauty of her uplifted face, the temptation of her perfect, innocent body against his. “I remember everything,” he said tautly. “You haunt me, Meg. Night after empty night.”

      She saw the strain in his dark face and felt guilty that she should be the cause of it. Her hand pressed flat against his shirtfront, feeling the strength and heat and under it the feverish throb of his pulse.

      “I’m sorry,” she said tenderly. “I’m so sorry…”

      He fought for control, his eyes lifting finally to stare over her head.

      Meg moved away a little, and began talking quite calmly about the state of the world, the weather, dancing lazily while he recovered.

      “I have to stop now, Steven,” she said finally. “My ankle really hurts.”

      He stopped dancing. His eyes searched over her face. “I’m sorry about what I said to you last night, when I asked you,” he said curtly. “I wanted you to the point of madness.” He laughed bitterly. “That, at least, has never changed.”

      Her eyes adored him. She couldn’t help it. He was more perfect to her than anything in the world, and when he was close to her, she had everything. But what he wanted would destroy her.

      “I can’t sleep with you and just…just go on with my life,” she said softly. “It would be another night, another body, to you. But it would be devastating to me. Not only my first time, but with someone whom I…” She averted her eyes. “Someone for whom I once cared very much.”

      “Look at me.”

      She forced her eyes up to his, curious about their sudden intent scrutiny.

      “Meg,” he said, as the music began again, “it wouldn’t be just another night and another body.”

      “It would be for revenge,” she argued. “And you know it, Steven. It isn’t about lovemaking, it’s about getting even. I walked out of your life and hurt you. Now you want to pay me back, and what better way than to sleep with me and walk away yourself?”

      “Do you think I could?” he asked with a bitter laugh.

      “Neither of us would really know until it happened.” She stared at his chest. “I know you’d try to protect me, but you aren’t quite in control when we make love. You certainly weren’t last night.” She raised her face. “Then what would we do if I really did get pregnant?”

      His lips parted. He studied her slowly. “You could marry me,” he said softly. “We could raise our child together.”

      The thought thrilled, uplifted, frightened. “And my career?”

      The pleasure washed out of him. His face lost its softness and his eyes grew cold. “That, of course, would be history. And you couldn’t stand that. After all, you’ve worked all your life for it, haven’t you?” He let her go. “We’d better go back to the table. We don’t want to put that ankle at risk.”

      They did go back to the table. He took Daphne’s hand and kept it in his for the rest of the evening. And every time he looked at Meg, his eyes were hostile and full of bitterness and contempt.

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