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“Just don’t!” The skin across his cheeks was stretched taut, and he dropped her hands, pushing himself upright. He swore violently.
“Is something wrong?” she asked as he rolled away, sitting with his back to her as he drew in long, steadying breaths.
“Everything.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Don’t you?” He twisted around, facing her again. “I intended to seduce you, Kaylie. I’ve planned it ever since I knew we’d be together again.”
She could barely keep her eyes raised to his.
“But it’s not enough.”
“What—?”
“Physical lust isn’t enough,” he explained, the brackets near the corners of his mouth showing white. “It has to be more!” His fist pounded the dusty ground and he swore at himself between clenched teeth.
“But—I mean, I thought—”
“I know what you thought. And you were right. I planned to have you—right here and now. But I need more than a quick, hot session in the forest, Kaylie!”
She gasped and blushed to the roots of her hair. “I don’t understand—”
“Sure you do. I want it all.” He pulled her close to him, roughly jerking her against the rock-hard wall of his chest. His face was warm and close, his breath scented with coffee. “Let’s go—”
“But—”
He whistled for the dog and climbed onto his mount. Kaylie straightened her clothes, confused and bereft and feeling like a complete fool. Good Lord, she’d nearly made love to him and he’d rejected her!
She gathered up Dallas’s reins, and slapping the leather against the gelding’s withers, she wondered how she was ever going to survive the next few days being trapped up here alone with Zane.
Chapter Seven
“It’s just not like Kaylie to leave us in the lurch like this,” Jim Crowley, producer of West Coast Morning, grumbled. He stepped over the thick camera cables as he made his way off the cozy set, which was designed to look like the living room in one of San Francisco’s charming row houses.
He headed down a short hall to his office, with his assistant, Tracy Montclair, following one step behind.
“Even Kaylie Melville has a personal life, you know,” she pointed out.
“All of a sudden? In the past six and a half years, Kaylie hasn’t missed one show. Not one. This just isn’t like her.” He shoved open the glass door to his office and stalked to the desk.
The ashtray was overflowing, and he dumped the contents into a wastebasket, then settled into his creaky leather chair.
“Call that sister of hers—Marge, isn’t it?”
“Margot.”
“Whatever.” Jim winced as a nerve in his lower back twinged, the aftermath from a game of racquetball. “Phone Margot and see if there’s a number where we can reach Kaylie.”
“Oh, come on, Jim. You’re not serious, are you? She’s with her aunt in a hospital somewhere, for God’s sake!”
“Well, even hospitals have phone numbers.” Jim tried to ignore his craving for a cigarette and unwrapped a stick of gum. “I need to talk to her. We’ve got a helluva schedule next week and I don’t think Alan can handle it alone.”
“She may be back by then.”
“Well, let’s not leave it to chance, okay?” He wadded the gum into a small clump and tossed it into his mouth just as there was a quick rap on the door. Through the glass he spied Alan Bently.
“I swear that guy’s got radar,” Jim muttered under his breath. Alan had the annoying habit of showing up every time his name was mentioned. “What’s up?” he asked, as Alan slid into the chair next to Tracy’s.
