One Magic Night (9 page)

He was cool, enigmatic. Then a shoulder lifted lazily. "I don't know.  You are full of surprises.  I'm intrigued."

He lowered dark, sooty lashes to shield his eyes from her view. Her blood cooled, and even cooler reason returned. She must be out of her mind to stand in her own classroom talking about going to bed with a man she barely knew.

She made a graceful, out flung gesture with her hand.  "Well, you'll just have to go on being intrigued. I'm not going to go to bed with you to satisfy your curiosity."

He let a beat of time go by. "You've already satisfied my curiosity." His gaze never wavered. "I had another more important satisfaction in mind."

The sexual innuendo ignited a long-quiet nerve in the pit of her stomach.  "Not with me, you don’t."  she said, each word distinct.

He gave her a long, considering look. "I was right about you, wasn't I? You can love as passionately as you hate."

"What we exchanged wasn't love."

"No, it wasn't," he drawled, surprising her with his agreement, "but it was a damn good stand-in.  You liked being in my arms as much as I liked having you there.  But now you're frightened.  Why, Leigh?"

“You’re not going to poke and pry into my life.  My reasons are my own…and private.”

Whatever thoughts he was having were carefully hidden behind that hard face with its square chin. He examined her mercilessly for a moment longer and then turned and walked away, his back straight, his tall body a moving picture of lithe animal grace and male pride.

When she heard his step on the stair, her breath left her body in a long, sighing groan.

Ty handled the Trans Am carefully, controlling his temper. The sun was low in the sky, and he drove against it, squinting. He had left his sunglasses in the apartment. Springwater was shadowy, still, with no one about. A gray cat ran out from between two buildings, headed on a collision course with the car. Ty swerved sharply. Cursing, he caught a glimpse of the animal teetering at the edge of the road, his front paws braced to counteract the momentum in his rear end, fur and hackles raised.

Like Leigh, he thought grimly.

The cat turned tail and ran, leaving him to resume his controlled speed and turn onto the street where Eve lived, thoughts of Leigh revolving inside his head like a carousel. Why had she responded to him and then turned him off cold? Why did he represent danger to her? Whatever it was, it was far beyond her fear of being interviewed. Fear on a deeper, more primitive level had made her break off that kiss.

He went back over what he knew of her. Her mother exploded on the screen with a hit movie in her early twenties, married the director, had Leigh.  Trouble in the marriage.  Director escaping into the wilderness to climb mountains, and to, as he told the press, renew his spirit.  Killed in a fall from a mountain peak in Sierra Nevada.  Mother already involved with another man who would be the first in a long line of lovers.  Leigh raised by hired help while living with her mother in Hollywood.  At the age of fourteen, on a vacation in the Adirondacks where she had driven to keep an assignation with another man, her mother met and married Dean Masters. Marriage lasted six months. Claire left, Leigh stayed. Obvious affection between the stepfather and daughter.

Ty turned into the driveway in front of Eve's house, his hands clenching the wheel. There had to be something.

What's the matter, Rundell?  Can't stand the thought of a woman turning you down?

No, that wasn't it. If it were any other woman, he'd shrug his shoulders, pack his bags, and leave town without giving her another thought. But he'd been caught in her spell since the first moment he had seen her face in those pictures. 

It was true enough women seldom said no to him, especially in the last three years since his films had been such big hits, but he took no pride in his success with women. They were, with few exceptions, predatory females who were interested in one thing, furthering their own careers. There had been minor variations on the theme.  The smarter ones who'd refused to go to bed with him and all the while given him signals they'd certainly reconsider if he offered them a part in one of his films, but there had only been one or two of them that had captured his interest for more than a month. The women he had met lately had a remarkable sameness about them, as if there was a factory somewhere in L.A. that churned them out of a mold: blond hair, their mouths alive with a bright gaiety that didn't reach their eyes.  He cut the motor, snatched the keys from the ignition, and strode up the walk. His first knock on the door went unanswered. He rapped again, a quick, impatient tattoo. After another long moment, Eve opened the door. Her cheeks were flushed with color and her black curls were slightly mussed, and it didn't take a genius to know that he had come at exactly the wrong time. He telegraphed his apology to Deke. His friend had risen from the davenport and was eyeing him with a your-timing-stinks look, the denim jacket gone, the first three buttons of his shirt unbuttoned. Ty felt a fleeting stab of envy.

"Oh, hello. Come in," Eve said, her hand going up to her hair, investigating the damage.

He held out her keys. "I just came to return these. Thanks for the loan of the car." His eyes swung to Deke. "I'm going back to the apartment."

Eve took the keys. "I…that is…how is Leigh?" She slipped the loop of the key chain over her index finger, gave it a nervous twirl, and glanced past the open door. "She isn't with you?"

Ty met her anxious eyes with a cool look.  "No."

That disturbed her, but she composed her face and said, "We were just going to have some supper. Nothing fancy, sandwiches and coffee.  Would you like to join us?"

From across the room, Deke's eyes met Ty's, and Ty didn't have to be a mind reader to know what his friend was thinking. "No, thanks. I've got some work to catch up on."

She made the polite protest.  "We’ve plenty of food."

He gave her a faint smile. "You’re very kind, but I really can't stay." To Deke, he said, "See you later."

He turned and left them, Eve with her face a light pink, Deke wearing a bland, smooth look, his eyes bright with amusement.

When Ty reached the apartment and let himself in, he knew Leigh wasn't in hers. There were no squares of light shining on the lawn.  He threw his jacket on the bed and slouched into a chair, wishing he had never heard of Springwater or Leigh Carlow.

Leigh heard his feet on the stairs, heard the apartment door below her slam. She sat huddled, her feet pulled up to her chin in the wicker chair, an afghan over her. The big windows let in the pale yellow rays, the last light of day. The shadows fit her mood. Unable to tolerate being in the classroom another moment after Ty left, she had raced down the stairs and jumped into her car. She had driven home and run up the stairs, where she had paced the floor until she heard the downstairs door open.

She was being ridiculous. She should get up, turn on the light, and get that set of papers corrected. In another day, perhaps two, he would be gone. Hiding in the dusk wasn't the answer, nor was chastising herself…which is what she had been doing ever since she left the schoolhouse. There was nothing to be gained by reliving those moments in his arms and wishing they had never happened. They had happened.

It was easy to see why. He was very attractive, not only physically but mentally. She had caught a glimpse of the man underneath the hard, muscled body and lean, well-shaped face, and she had seen level-headedness, an utter lack of ego, and an endearing sense of humor. Not only that, he had the ability to forget himself enough to see other people clearly. He had kissed her, and when she had tried to make him dislike her, he’d seen through her at once.  He was a perceptive man, Mr. Ty Rundell, perceptive…and dangerous. Was it possible he knew about Paul? A sickness washed over her. No, he couldn't. Paul was on the East Coast now, appearing in a play.

She threw the afghan back and walked quietly to the window to stare out into the gray light. Wisps of fog gathered over the creek. Across its narrow silver width, a weeping willow bent spidery branches earthward. She couldn't see them, but she could remember how the hollow branches broke off and fell to the ground around the tree. But the tree grew new ones and persevered. That was what she would do. She would throw off her memories…and she would persevere.

Deke sat back, watching the play of the lamplight on Eve's face.  "Thank you for that meal. It was excellent."

Eve gave a faint laugh. "How excellent can sandwiches be?"

"Maybe it depends what you're comparing them to. I've been living on restaurant food for the past three weeks, and home-cooked chicken salad is a real treat."

As if his compliment disturbed her, she stood up quickly to carry the dishes away. He said, "Can I help?"

She shook her head. "There aren't that many, really." He watched the graceful, quick movements she made as she picked up their plates and cups and walked around the curving snack bar where he sat, to the dishwasher tucked under the counter.

She said, "How long have you known Ty?"

Deke thought about it. "We go back about fifteen years, I'd guess. I was an old hand in the stunt business, and he came on the lot like the young bucks do, wanting a job. I liked him. We made a few pictures together and discovered we hit it off. I knew he was a tiger, right from the first. 'When he'd learned all I could teach him, he started on the cameramen and techs. Pretty soon he knew more than I did about camera technique, lenses, set construction, and action shots. He wouldn't be the success he is today if he hadn't had such a thorough background in movie making."

He watched the firm roundness of her hips press against the green silk as she bent over to put a plate in the dishwasher. Desire stirred, low and deep, with a strength he hadn't felt since Donna died. He got up from the snack bar and went around to lean against the curving arch of the entrance to the tiny kitchen. He had to be careful, very careful. Eve had dropped her guard when he'd told her about losing Donna, but he wasn't sure of her. One move toward her would make her back away. He'd been just about to kiss her when Ty had knocked on the door. He'd threaded his hands through her hair and was pulling her toward him, caressing her nape…and she wasn't resisting. His mouth had been inches from hers when the knock sounded. He'd had to stifle the urge to curse.

She seemed to take a long time clearing away. Now she was wiping the cupboard with a terry towel. He stepped forward, said her name softly. "Eve."

She turned, her face flushed, her eyes brilliant. "Yes?" He took a step, not exactly trapping her against the counter but taking advantage of the barrier to her retreat to pull her into his arms. "Deke, please…"

He shook his head, breathed her name, and kissed her nose, her cheeks, the delicate skin at the temple where her pulse flickered at a rapid rate.

"Deke…"

"Don't tell me to stop. Not now. Not when I've been wanting to do this all afternoon.'' He smoothed a tendril back from her ear with fingers that shook, and it was that trembling touch with its vulnerability that undid her. She turned her mouth up to him. He took it gently, tentatively, as if she were a young girl receiving her first kiss.

Her hands, pressed flat against the denim of his shirt, made an involuntary movement. The pads of her fingers brushed the light covering of hair on his chest, and he reveled in that contact of flesh on flesh. Taking it for the encouragement he needed, he moved to tighten his grip on her hips, when suddenly, her whole body tensed and she pushed at him violently. He released her, but before she could move away, he reached around her and grasped the countertop, trapping her.

"What is it?"  He gazed down at the top of her head, seeing the intricate whorls and mussed fullness of her dark hair and felt an overwhelming surge of tenderness.  “Tell me what’s wrong.  I need to know.”

"I'm forty-one years old," she said huskily, "too old to be taken in by your good old Hollywood cowboy charm."

She lifted her head and gazed at him, her green eyes brilliant. He clamped down on his temper and met her gaze steadily. "And I'm forty-five years old, too damn old to be put off by name-calling."

She flushed and her eyes shimmered with temper. "I wasn't…"

"Sure you were," he said easily. "You gave me a label and you stuck it on my back and you're not about to look at the man underneath it."

Her slim body with its mature curves tautened. "I don't have to look at the man underneath.  I know what I'd find."

“Do you?  I doubt it.”  Deke watched her, not missing a flicker of an eyelash, a movement of a muscle. Under the smooth skin at her throat, a pulse beat at an accelerated rate. He stood, his arms almost but not quite touching hers as he held her trapped. Underneath the green silk, her breasts pressed against the fabric. He'd gotten under her skin, and she didn't like it. She didn't like it at all.

He relaxed slightly, and Eve made a restless movement as if she expected him to release her.  He didn't.  “I get the feeling," he drawled, "that you've been hurt, perhaps recently," his eyes narrowed, "and in our age bracket I'd guess the damage was done by some guy who already had a wife."

She started with surprise, hot color sweeping up into her cheeks. "What happened in my life has nothing to do with you."

He contradicted her in his slow voice. "Right now," he let his eyes travel slowly over her face and wander lower to where her shallow breathing was making the silk tauten across her feminine curves, "I'd say it did."

"You don't know anything about me."

"It's the learning I'm interested in.”  He moved to kiss her, but she raised her hands and stiffened her wrists to make a barrier between them. Her cool voice was at variance with her flushed face. "I've never liked one-night stands." She watched him, waiting.

"What makes you think that's what I want?"

"You couldn't want much else, could you? Our life-styles are a million light-years apart."

"I could want a lot more…"  He leaned toward her again, but she pushed him away. "No, Deke. Don't. This is a road to nowhere, and I've been that route.  I'm not taking the trip again."

''Tell me what happened."

She shook her head. "No. I was a fool once.  I won't be again."             

He dropped his arms and straightened.  He had lost this round, but the battle wasn't over. He wanted her, and somehow, her resistance fired his blood rather than cooled it. He knew why. Underneath her resistance lay that tantalizing response to him, a momentary softening of her body and sweet yielding of her mouth that made him want her all the more. He hadn't failed entirely; he knew that.  He leaned forward, and before she could move away, planted a quick, hard kiss on her lips. Then he walked out of the kitchen and strode to the couch to pick up his jacket.  His back to her, he missed seeing the look of stunned surprise on her face.

When he had shrugged into his jacket, she came out of the kitchen, her face more composed. He said, "Thanks again for supper."