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“I’ll remember that.”
Mitchell scraped his chair back. “While you’re remembering, don’t forget that McLean’s been in L.A. a long time. You think he’s been without a woman all that time?”
“I don’t really care.”
One golden eyebrow arched as Mitchell said, “No? Well, think about it, Tessa. All of a sudden, he’s interested in you. So what happened to the past seven years? Why hasn’t he called, written or stopped by? All that time while his uncle was dying, he didn’t so much as write one goddamn note.”
“He didn’t know about John.”
“He wasn’t too interested, was he?”
Tessa wanted to defend Denver but didn’t. What was the point? Mitchell’s mind was set. He couldn’t believe Denver capable of any kind of compassion or feelings. In Mitchell’s opinion, Denver had abandoned his uncle. But John had kept the secret of his heart condition to himself and a few close friends, all of whom were sworn not to tell Denver or Colton. Keeping that secret vow had been easy. Colton seemed to have fallen off the face of the earth, and Denver hadn’t been interested in anything or anyone on the ranch. So John had died alone. And Mitchell was condemning Denver.
“As I said, I can deal with Denver.”
“I hope so, Tess. I hope to God you can!” He found his hat and jammed it onto his head. Turning on his heel, he was through the back door before she had a chance to argue.
* * *
Denver twisted a pencil between his fingers. Through the open study window, he heard the back door slam shut and Mitchell’s boots stomping across the yard. A few seconds later an engine sputtered, caught and roared to life. Gears ground and gravel sprayed as Mitchell tore down the drive.
Denver knew that Tessa and Mitch had been arguing, probably over him. Snatches of their conversation had filtered through the old house, and he could guess the rest. Mitchell didn’t trust him—didn’t like him involved with Tessa.
Denver didn’t blame Mitch. Hell, he didn’t want to be involved with Tessa himself. But ever since setting eyes on her again in the barn that first night, he’d been compelled to be as near her as possible.
Night after night, he had told himself to forget that she was only a short walk down the hall, that if he played his cards right, she would eventually make love to him and that, if he could control his emotions, he’d be able to satisfy himself with her and walk away again.
His pencil snapped in two. Guilt tore a hole in his heart. He’d felt her respond, knew that it was only a matter of time before he could seduce her. And now, when he was certain of victory, he didn’t want it, couldn’t bear to see the hurt in her eyes when he left her again.
The other evening at the creek had been telling. He could have made love to her and been done with it, except that he couldn’t hurt her. And now, he was looking forward to taking her back to Venice. For what? A day? A week? A lifetime? He didn’t know. But he was sure of one thing. Tessa hadn’t betrayed him all those years before—she couldn’t have. She wasn’t involved in her father’s scheme to ruin the McLeans. Or else she was one hell of an actress. Her indignation and pain seemed real enough, and he believed her.
He wasn’t so sure about Mitch or Curtis. But Tessa, he felt, hadn’t been involved, even innocently, in the fire.
So now he wanted her—more fiercely even than he had seven years ago. Desire was running at a fever pitch, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep it in check.
Clenching his jaw so hard it ached, he reached for a new pen and stared down at the figures on the profit and loss statement lyin
g open on the desk. But the typed pages couldn’t hold his attention, and he wondered how he’d get through another long night just three doors down the hall from the only woman who could stir his blood to a fever pitch.
He heard her walking overhead, knew she was probably undressing for her bath. When the old pipes groaned loudly, he closed his eyes, envisioning her naked, her strawberry-blond hair spilling down her back, her skin pink from the hot water, her eyes glassy in relaxation. Her breasts would swell gently at the waterline, her nipples erect little buttons pointing proudly above the lapping water.
He could imagine his tongue stroking those proud little peaks, the hot water touching his lips as he suckled. Her fingers would twine in his hair and with one hand slowly dipping through the waves of warm liquid, sliding past the silky skin covering her ribs and the tight muscles of her abdomen, he’d ravish her slowly. Touching that private nest of fine reddish hair at the apex of her legs, he’d tell her of the nights he’d lain awake wanting her, the years he’d wished she had warmed his bed.
Smiling, Tessa would toss her head back, moaning softly, her hair floating around her as he gently parted her thighs, teasing that special little bud until she was writhing and wrapping her arms around his neck, dragging him into the water with her, begging him to make love to her and never stop.
A quiet rap on the door startled him. He had to stretch his legs and shift on his buttocks to ease the swelling that pressed hard against his jeans. “What?” Damn, but his voice sounded unnatural and husky.
Tessa pushed the door open and poked her head inside. Her fingers were wrapped around the edge of the wood, but she didn’t enter. Denver used every ounce of control he possessed not to fly out of the chair and tear that silky pink wrapper off her body. Seeing the wet strands of her hair, knowing how soft and yielding her flesh was beneath the quickly donned robe, he could think of nothing more than giving in to the sweet temptation she was so innocently offering.
“I just wanted to warn you that we’re out of hot water—I’ll have the element on the tank checked in the morning.”
“Thanks,” he said, hoping to appear busy as he leaned over the desk. Then, unable to resist, he flashed her a lazy smile as he glanced up at her. “I think if I take a shower tonight, it should be cold, don’t you?”
“Whatever you want.” But she smiled.
He propped both elbows on the desk and rotated his pen between his hands. “What I want has nothing to do with the temperature of the water around here.”
“Oh.” She bit her lower lip and seemed about to leave when a mischievous light sparkled in her eyes. “Does this mean I should lock my door tonight?”
