Any Thursday (Donovans of the Delta) (3 page)

“Don’t come any closer,” Hannah’s hand closed around a brass candlestick. Jim merely laughed and kept on coming.

His lazy grin and relaxed manner almost made Hannah forget his transgressions. But they were many, and she was determined to deal with them.

“Mr. Roman—”

“Call me Jim,” he interrupted her smoothly. “After all we’ve been to each other, don’t you think mister is a little too formal?”

“All you’ve been to me is a pain in the—”

“Association with polar bears has made you testy, Hannah. I have to agree with Aunt Agnes. Unless you mend your ways, you’ll never make it to the altar. A sharp tongue, my dear, is a definite obstacle to romance.” In three quick strides he was beside her. His hand snaked out and closed over Hannah’s, just as she was hefting the candlestick aloft.

Hannah tried to jerk her hand free. But as strong as she was, she was no match for Jim. If she couldn’t win the physical battle, she was determined to win the verbal one. “You could use a few lessons in romantic techniques yourself. Women don’t like to be manhandled.”

He took the candlestick from her hand and pulled her tight against his chest. “What do they like, Hannah?”

Strength and power, she thought as she looked up at him. Even the arrogance he wore like a merit badge attracted her. The sense of danger that hovered over him was a powerful aphrodisiac. All the things he was—bold and brash and wild and ruthless—reminded her of Alaska, the land that had held her captive for years. But she was a willing captive of Alaska’s; she would never be a willing captive of Jim Roman’s.

Putting on her most fetching smile, she looked into his eyes and lied. “We like to be asked.”

“Then, Miss Hannah Donovan, I’m asking politely. May I kiss you?”

“No.”

His lips descended on hers with the swiftness of the eagles she’d seen attacking their quarry. She gave back as much as she got. When she finished with him, he’d know he wasn’t dealing with any lilywhite, trembling maiden.

She twined her hands in his hair, fitted herself brazenly against him. She had the satisfaction of feeling his sharp intake of breath as her tongue boldly explored his mouth.

His arms tightened, and he deepened the kiss, a fever began to build in Hannah’s blood. She felt her control slipping, something she absolutely would not allow.

Abruptly she pulled away, laughing as she looked up at him.

“I told you no.”

“Your eyes said yes.” Jim released her and took a step backward. Hannah liked to think of it as a retreat. “You’re a torrid woman, Hannah.”

“I try . . . but only when it suits me.”

“An intriguing woman,” Jim continued, dismissing her last remark as if she’d never made it. “What makes a woman like you bury herself in Glacier Bay?” He leaned casually against the back of the sofa, his gaze almost insolent as it swept her from head to toe. “Dr. Hannah Donovan, marine biologist, head of the North Pacific Institute of Oceanographic Research. Two years in Sri Lanka studying sperm and blue whales, one in the rugged, remote Kenai Fjords of Alaska charting the humpback whale, and the last three in Glacier Bay. Raises huskies and competes in the Yukon Quest for recreation. No romantic entanglements.” He quirked a sardonic eyebrow upward. “Have I missed anything?”

“I don’t do windows.”

“I guessed as much.”

“Who told you? Mom?”

“A good reporter never reveals his sources.” He chuckled. “But I’ll have to admit that this source makes the best gingerbread I’ve ever tasted.”

Hannah circled him, giving him the same frank once over he’d given her. “Jim Roman, the West Coast Warrior, winner of the Pulitzer Prize for a newspaper series on the gang wars that shook the streets of San Francisco a few years back. Knifed twice in the line of duty, the recipient of one car bomb, and most recently the target of the Mafia.”

“Your facts are wrong. A good reporter always gets his facts straight.”

“Would you care to elaborate?”

“No.”

“Then allow me to create a scenario. Famous reporter flees San Francisco, leads the Mafia straight to Greenville and the innocent Donovan family.”

“Your family is in no danger.” His expression was serious. “Believe me, Hannah. Everybody assumes the Mafia is responsible any time a bullet is fired. We don’t know who’s after me. We’ve made some educated guesses, of course. If I had my choice, I’d still be in San Francisco. John Searles took that decision out of my hands. He thinks it best that I keep a low profile for a while.”

“If the Mafia is not after you, who in the world mentioned it to my mother?”

“Probably Aunt Agnes. She seems to be the authority on everything.”

“What are you working on now, Jim? Who is shooting at you?”

He grinned. “You’re the only one who has tried it lately.”

“I should have pulled the trigger.”

“Think of all the fun you’d have missed, Dr. Donovan.”

“It boggles the mind, Mr. Roman.”

They were facing each other now, squared off like two championship boxers. They both thrived on challenge and battle—Jim against the evil man does in society, and Hannah against the evil man does in nature. The air between them fairly sizzled. Unconsciously Jim braced against the sofa and Hannah ran a hand around the neck of her T-shirt to release the heat.

When the silence between them had stretched almost to the breaking point, Jim spoke. “Truce, Hannah.” He held out his hand.

Hannah took it without hesitation. Her grip was firm. “Truce.”

He smiled. “This is not a promise to behave.”

“I would have been disappointed if it were. I’m beginning to enjoy our battles.”

“You’re going to enjoy our loving even more.”

“You never give up, do you?”

“Never. Not until I get what I want.”

“And what is it you want, Jim Roman?”

“You.”

He was whistling when he left the library. The massive carved door creaked shut behind him. Hannah looked around the peaceful book-lined room and wondered why, all of a sudden, it seemed so empty—and so dull.

“I won’t waste a minute thinking about the West Coast Warrior,” she said aloud, as if the sound of her own voice made her words more convincing, as if she could cleanse him from her mind by merely saying so.

Her feet tapped smartly against the wooden floor as she hurried from the room. There were a dozen wedding chores that needed her attention.

 o0o

Jim had no idea where he was going when he left the room. All he knew was that he had to get away from Hannah. He was accustomed to being the aggressor, and she’d neatly turned the tables on him.

 He needed to regroup before any more encounters with the delectable Dr. Donovan. What was it about her that made him throw manners and caution both to the wind? The first had been grilled into him by his mother, the second by a career that demanded it.

Besides, he was a guest in the Donovan home. He didn’t want to upset the senior Mr. and Mrs. Donovan, and he certainly didn’t want to piss off the Donovan brothers.

He detoured by the kitchen long enough to thank Anna for her invitation to the family supper and to decline politely. He was sidetracked by Tanner, who had just arrived from Dallas and wanted to show him the stables.

Then he got into his rental car and headed into the city.

There was always something exciting to do in a city. He’d seen nothing of Greenville except the airport and the rural areas outside the city limits. He’d prowl the riverfront, locate an out-of-the-way dive. The best food and the best music were often found in unexpected places. Two things John had told him about the Mississippi Delta: The food was delicious, and the jazz was exquisite. He’d find out for himself.

 o0o

Hannah told herself she wasn’t listening for Jim’s car. She rolled over and punched her pillow, then she lifted her head and peered at the clock. Three A.M. Where in the world was he? She hadn’t seen him since he left her in the library. Of course, that didn’t mean much. She’d been so busy with wedding preparations, she’d barely seen Tanner and Paul and their families after they’d arrived.

She thought she heard the scrunch of gravel under tires and cocked her head, listening, but it turned out to be a mouse in the wall.

“Hell’s bells.” She rose from the bed, secured her hair on top of her head with a couple of large combs, reached for her robe, and headed to the bathroom. On her way, she picked up a thick book, a horror story by Robert R. McCammon. If
Swan Song
couldn’t take her mind off Jim Roman, nothing could.

She leaned over the tub and turned the water on full force. Then she searched the cabinets until she found what she wanted—the bubble bath. She poured in twice as much as she needed.

One of the luxuries she missed in Glacier Bay was a bubble bath. The cabin she lived in was strictly functional in design. It had one large room with a tiny cooking alcove, a sleeping loft, and a small bath. She was lucky to have a shower indoors: many of the cabins didn’t.

She loved her work. For her it was the fulfillment of a lifelong dream. The love of nature and all living things that had been fostered in her growing up on the Donovan farm had come to full fruition when she’d received her Ph.D. and set out to study one of the world’s most magnificent mammals, the whale. Her work was hard and demanding, usually carried out in remote places that precluded an ordinary lifestyle. And it was totally satisfying.

She wouldn’t trade her primitive spot in Glacier Bay for all the luxuries in the world, but when she came home, she did enjoy her bubble baths. She was taking her second one of the day.

She sighed as she stepped into the water. Closing her eyes, she leaned back and let herself slide downward until she was up to the neck in glistening iridescent bubbles.

“I see you’ve already drawn my bath.”

Hannah’s eyes flew open.

Jim was leaning against the door frame, taking in the view. His hair was disheveled, his shirt was unbuttoned to the waist, and he had the satisfied look of a great leopard that has cornered its quarry. She felt a rush of adrenaline, a sure sign that her body was preparing itself for battle. Her gaze swung to his chest, which was smooth and hard and tanned. The rush she felt this time was heat. She shut her mind to what her body might be preparing itself to do.

“What are you doing in here?’

“I’m going to take a bath.”

“The tub is occupied.”

He grinned. “That’s fine with me. I always like company in my bath.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Your actions contradict your words.” His eyes never left hers as he peeled off his shirt and let it dangle carelessly from his left hand. Under the water, Hannah’s hands tightened on the bar of soap. Jim advanced a step, tossing his shirt onto the vanity. “The door on my side of the bathroom was open, Hannah. I consider that an invitation.” His hand went to his belt buckle.

“Don’t you dare take off your pants.”

“I dare many things, Hannah.” He was looming over the tub now, so close she could see the precise way his chest hair disappeared into the top of his pants. She found herself staring, imagining the sexy-crisp touch of that chest hair.

“Do you like what you see, my beautiful sleek wildcat?”

Lying would be useless. She knew he could see the truth in her eyes. “Yes.” She gazed boldly at him. “I like what I see.”

As they assessed each other, a handful of crystal bubbles disintegrated in the middle of the tub. One of Hannah’s legs came into view. Seeing the gleam of lust in Jim’s eyes, she brazenly lifted her leg high out of the tub and soaped it, taking her time, watching his face for signs that she was disturbing him. “I like what I see very much, Jim Roman—but I don’t want it.”

He chuckled. It was a low, satisfied growl of amusement that reverberated off the bathroom tiles. “I’ll make you want it.”

She slowly lowered her leg back into the water. Laughter wasn’t what she’d wanted from him. She’d wanted him to retreat under her bold attack. “Men of your type don’t appeal to me.”

He put his right foot on the rim of the tub, propped his elbow on his bended knee, and leaned closer to her. He was still smiling.

“Is that why your face is flushed and your eyes are bedroom languid? Because I don’t appeal to you?”

She felt as if she were smothering. She wanted nothing more than to take a big gulp of air, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he bothered her. “You’ve assessed me wrong. It’s the heat.”

His left hand reached out and lightly cupped her face. “Yes. It’s the heat.” There was a vibrant urgency in his voice that made her shiver. “Body heat. Yours and mine.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, willing herself to be strong, steeling herself to resist temptation. She snapped them open and looked at him. “Remove your hand.”

Laughing, he pulled back. “What’s the matter, Hannah? Don’t you like to play?”

“I like to choose my playmates.”

“So do I. And I’ve already chosen you.”

His eyes gleaming, he bent down and trailed his hands through the water. She held her breath as his fingers stopped only inches from her breast.

She could imagine how his hands would feel on her. She wanted it, she ached for it, but she knew she couldn’t have it. Jim Roman was a roaring blaze that would consume her. “If you touch me again, I’ll black both your eyes.”

His hand moved a fraction of an inch closer. “When I touch you, it will be because you want it. You’ll ask me for it.”

Their eyes locked in a battle of wills. Rage and excitement boiled through her. There was something else too. Something so powerful, so basic and primitive, she recognized it immediately. It was lust, her old enemy.

Her chin went up. “I wouldn’t ask you to touch me if you were the last man on earth.”

He merely smiled and lifted a brow. Then, leaning closer, he blew away the bubbles that covered her breasts.

His eyes gleaming, he whispered, “You’ll ask me, Hannah.” Abruptly he stood up. “Sleep well.”

He was gone as quickly as he had come.

Hannah went limp. Leaning her head back against the cold porcelain, she put her hand over her racing heart.