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The long fingers tightened possessively on her jaw, his eyes alight with joy, relief. 'I thought you did, oh, God, I hoped you did, but how good
it is to hear you say it. Do you know how wild it drove me trying to work out why the idea of marriage to me was so horrifying? Even if you didn't love me, I thought you'd at least be flattered...' His soft laugh held the memory of his frustrated anger. 'When I went to bed that night I was cursing Beth for jumping the gun and myself for greedily trying to take advantage of it. I had been so proud of my damned patience so far, and it all went out the window in a moment when you suddenly looked at me as if I'd sprouted horns, rather than the halo I thought I deserved. Such arrogance...'
'Magnificent arrogance,' she agreed mischievously and he laughed, this time with some of that same, beloved arrogance.
'Like a callow boy I was outraged that you didn't treat my love like the priceless gift it was, and spitefully I tried to make you feel guilty about it.'
'You succeeded.'
'You got your revenge. When I saw that 'Mae West' I thought it would be my fault if you died. That I'd driven you into believing you had to be some kind of Amazon to earn my respect. But that you always had, and always will...' He tilted his head to the sky and blurted out, 'I still can't believe you did that!'
'I wanted to see what it was like,' she said meekly.
His lips moved silently, very like those of her fellow parachutist before he went out the door. 'And what was it like?' he finally asked, in strangled tones.
'I don't really know, it all happened so fast,' she admitted sheepishly. 'Not as scary as I'd expected while everything was going on and then... sort of quiet but not quiet... rather awesome and fantastic...' Her enthusiasm died a little as she remembered what could have happened. '... I think...'
Ross felt the last of his tension drain away to be replaced by a heavy, sultry sensation of anticipation, spiked with delicious slivers of amusement.
'It gets better,' he said, but didn't make the mistake of grinning at the expression of horror that flitted across her face. No, he didn't have to worry about Fran acquiring an insatiable thirst for adventure, she would continue to express her own quiet courage in other ways. But he would make damned sure that it wasn't overstretched. She had taught him a lesson that he couldn't unlearn and didn't want to. He frowned, realising that they still hadn't settled the question of marriage. After last time it wouldn't do to take too much for granted. That was another lesson he had learned well.
'Can I give you a lift back to town?'
'I think we're supposed to have a debriefing,' Fran said vaguely, looking around and realising that they were standing in the middle of a public road and that they were getting a few funny looks from the spectators now trailing back to their cars. She shrugged hurriedly out of the loose encirclement of his arms.
'I think I can take care of your debriefing,' Ross murmured with a wicked look downwards that made her tingle. 'Did you come in the club van with the others?' She nodded. 'Good, then there's no car to worry about.'
He put his hands flat against her shoulders and pushed. Startled, she fell backwards, on to the seat of the limousine she had sheltered in earlier.
'Ross, what do you think you're doing?' she hissed
at him as he bent and scooped her legs into the car,
thrusting her along the deep leather seat with a sinuous
nudge of his hips as he joined her. 'You can't just commandeer—'
'Home, James,' Ross flicked the switch on the small intercom on the padded panel in front of them and the chauffeur, without looking back through the tinted panel of glass, made an acknowledging gesture with his hand as he leaned forward to start the car.
'Ross? Ross, this isn't yours, is it?' He was wearing a suit again she realised, on a Saturday—looking smooth and suave and stinking rich. She longed to see him in scruffy denims again... or in nothing at all.
He ignored her disbelieving squawk, punching up some numbers on a sleek, cordless phone. 'Nessa? I'm on my way home. Only urgent calls, please... Dr Nugent can take the rest.' He hung up. 'Nessa is my housekeeper. She picks up after me and generally nags me about life in general. Rather like you, in fact,' he added slyly, 'except she's thirty years older and doesn't drive me out of my skull with lust and desire and terrifying elusiveness.'
'I can't believe that you could be crass enough to drive around town in something like this,' Fran said severely, conscious of the man in the front seat, trying to hide the lurch of excitement she felt at seeing Ross leaning back against the cream upholstery, regarding her with that heavy-lidded sensual amusement. 'After all your sneers about the material trappings of success.'
'He can't hear you, Fran, or see you. All the glass is
mirrored.' Ross judged her nervous glance accurately.
He grinned lazily at her flush. 'And you're right, I'm
not that crass. I rented this to take a very important,
wealthy Middle-Eastern patient out to the airport this
morning. Just one of the small touches of courtesy and
luxury that she takes for granted. I was on my way back
