Lisa Jackson - Suspicions - A Twist Of Fate / Tears Of Pride

He stood still in the doorway watching her. One well-muscled shoulder rested against the doorjamb. The light from the living room was behind him, and his silhouette in the darkness seemed to intensify the broad strength of his shoulders and the powerful play of muscles on his chest. His shirt was still unbuttoned as if he were just in the process of getting dressed when he heard her awaken. Erin found it hard to concentrate on anything but his tanned skin and the invitation of his open shirt. Unconsciously she gripped the sheet a little more tightly.

“I’m not going to leave you,” he replied seriously, and then wondered at the promise he heard echoing in his words. He could see Erin’s face in the cloud-shadowed moon glow—a delicate, regal oval placed in relief by the tangled mass of black hair that cascaded down to rest against the marble texture of her bare shoulder. The hollow of her throat beckoned him, but he resisted reaching for her. She was beautiful, almost an inspiration, and Kane had difficulty reining in his emotions. Her lilac eyes shimmered in the half light, and Kane was sorely tempted to go back to the bed and crush her passionately against him. How could he ache so much for one woman? he asked himself. And how could any woman who appeared so innocent and vulnerable be mixed up with something as gut-wrenchingly dishonest as embezzling? The onerous thoughts that battled in his mind must have been evident on his face because Erin’s expression changed from innocence to wariness. God, why did he want her so badly?

Kane cleared his throat, and in an attempt to break the heady silence that was entrapping him, tried to lighten the suddenly tense moment. He cocked one black eyebrow in mock suspicion and effectively changed the subject.

“So you thought that I had left you, did you? Wishful thinking on your part, wasn’t it?”

“Wishful thinking? What do you mean?”

“You’ve been trying to weasel out of fixing dinner for me all day, but it won’t work. I’m here and I’m famished!”

“The lasagna! Oh, no! I forgot all about it!” Erin wailed. She started to hike her skirt upward over her hips, while still grasping the sheet.

Kane stood, unmoving and bemused, in the doorway. His silvery eyes never left her body. Erin sucked in a deep breath. Although she was uncomfortable about dressing in front of him, intuitively she knew it would be useless to try and dissuade him from watching her. She gave him an irritated glare that only seemed to amuse him further as she tried to squirm into the tight blue skirt and attempted to keep the sheet positioned modestly. Her efforts were in vain, and a deep chuckle erupted in his throat as he unabashedly studied her dismal efforts at privacy. Finally, when she slipped the skirt up to her waist and tried to tug at the zipper, it got caught in the sheet and Erin gave up. After the passionate intimacy of only an hour before, Erin realized that her modesty must appear slightly neurotic. With a burning flush of scarlet on her cheeks, she untangled the sheet from the zipper and let the sheet fall to the floor.

“Damn!” she swore under her breath when the skirt was in place at last. She raised her deep round eyes to him and met his gaze unwaveringly. Her breasts, two white soft mounds, were unshielded, and she moved slowly as she finished dressing. “You’re not making this easy, you know,” she accused, her eyes never leaving his. He met her challenging gaze with an amused twinkle in his eyes. “The least you could do,” she continued, “is take the dinner out of the oven so it doesn’t burn!”

A condescending smile touched the corners of his lips. “You expect me to help with the cooking?”

“Why not? You obviously intend to help with the eating,” she bantered back at him, and attempted to hurry through the doorway. Just as she tried to pass him, he placed a strong arm across her path. The action effectively barred her passage and barricaded her into the bedroom.

“Not so fast,” he murmured seductively. Erin felt her throat tighten.

“But the meal—the lasagna. It’s probably cremated!”

“It’ll keep,” he breathed, his eyes holding hers. His head dipped downward, and before she could utter any further protest, he kissed her softly. His lips lingered over hers for only an instant before he dropped the imprisoning arm and pulled his head away from hers. “I just wanted to thank you.”

“For what?” she asked breathlessly.

“For just being you.” His words warmed her, and she felt more than a little light-headed and dizzy, but the steady pressure of his warm hand against the small of her back forced her into the living area of the apartment. She couldn’t help but smile as she noticed that he had set the table for two and pulled the slightly overcooked casserole from the oven. Candles graced the intimate table. The wine was poured. The meal was already served.

“You did this?” she asked, surveying the table that he had set with enviable care. “And I slept through it?” Amazement was evident in her voice.

“Surprising, isn’t it?”

“That’s putting it mildly.” She shook her head in concentrated thought. “I’m normally a light sleeper,” she murmured as she walked into the kitchen.

“That’s because you haven’t been keeping the right company.”

“And just what is that supposed to mean?” she inquired cautiously as she put the finishing touches on the meal and placed the salad on the table next to the lasagna and warm bread.

“Just that you’d probably sleep more soundly with me.”

Her eyes jumped to his face as she took the chair opposite his at the table. She took a deep breath and decided that it was time to set him straight about her. Perhaps he had gotten the wrong impression and thought that she was somewhat promiscuous.

She began slowly and deliberately. “Kane, I want you to understand something about me,” she requested.

“Such as?”

“Contrary to what you might think…” She struggled with her next words as they caught in her throat. “I don’t normally…I mean…” She shook her dark curls in frustration. “What I’m trying to say is that I don’t make a habit of sleeping with a man whom I barely know.” She watched for his reaction.

“Oh?” His voice was interested, and he pushed his plate aside to give her his full attention. She saw no criticism in his misty eyes, only concern.

“I hope that I haven’t given you the wrong impression about me….”

“You mean because you slept with me?”

Two dark scarlet points of color brightened her cheeks, but she bravely continued. “That’s exactly what I mean.” Her words were hushed, and for a moment she was forced to look away from him. When she brought her eyes back to his, she held his gaze steadily and her voice became coolly even. “I don’t really understand why I think that you have to know this, but for the sake of my own somewhat Victorian morals, I want you to realize that I don’t have casual affairs. In fact, other than my ex-husband, there has been no one. Until you.”

“I know that,” he assured her in a voice as grave as the night.

She fingered her wineglass and took a long swallow of the rosé. She studied the pale pink liquid and swirled it in the long-stemmed glass before continuing the conversation. “Then why did you ask me all of those insulting questions about Mitch?”

At the mention of Mitchell Cameron’s name, a scowl darkened Kane’s features. Once again his face was guarded and his eyes became two silver shields. “I didn’t know you then,” was the terse reply.

“And in just three days you know me well enough to evaluate my love life?” she returned, and heard the sarcasm in her voice.

“I probably know a lot more about you than you think.”