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His fingers, once gentle, tightened against the soft flesh of her upper arms and held her prisoner against the carpet. As he studied the elegant lines of her face, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. Never had he been so impulsive, so rash, when it came to a woman. Why did this woman bewitch him so? Why did she make him feel more alive than he had in years? Was it the provocative turn of her chin, the light that danced in her eyes, the fresh scent of her hair? Why was he taken in by her beauty, which was in the same instant innocent and seductive? For the last sixteen years of his life he had cautiously avoided any commitment that might recreate the scene that had scattered his life in chaos. He had been careful, never foolhardy enough to fall for a woman again. But now, as he stared into Sheila’s wide, silver-colored eyes, he felt himself slipping into the same black abyss that had thrown his life into disorder long ago. Not since Marilyn had he allowed himself the luxury of becoming enraptured by a woman. And if he had been truthful, none he had met had deeply interested him. But tonight was different. Damn it, he was beginning to care for Sheila Lindstrom, though he knew little of her and couldn’t begin to understand her motives. How far could he trust such a lovely, bewitching creature as the woman lying desirously in his arms?
Noah’s death grip on Sheila relaxed. “I want you,” he said simply in a hoarse voice that admitted what he had felt from the first moment she had appeared on his doorstep.
“I know.” She sighed. She crossed her arms over her breasts, as if to shield herself from the truth. But her eyes met Noah’s unwaveringly. “I want you, too,” she conceded huskily.
The silence in the room was their only barrier, and yet Noah hesitated. “That’s not enough,” he admitted, wiping the sweat that had begun to bead on his upper lip. “There has to be more.”
Sheila shook her head slowly in confusion, and the sweep of her hair captured red-gold highlights from the flames. Try as she would, she couldn’t understand him. What was he saying? Was he rejecting her? Why? What had she done?
Noah witnessed the apprehension and agony in Sheila’s eyes and regretted that he was a part of her pain. He wanted to comfort her, to explain the reasons for his reservation, but was unable. How could he expect her to understand that he had loved a woman once in the past and that that love had been callously and bitterly sold to the highest bidder? Was it possible for Sheila to see what Marilyn had done to him when the bitch had put a price on her illegitimate son’s head when Sean was born? Was it fair for Noah to burden Sheila with the guilt and agony he had suffered because of his love for his child? No! Though he wanted to trust her, he couldn’t tell her about the part of his life he had shoved into a dark, locked corner of his mind. Instead, he took an easier, less painful avenue. “I get the feeling that you think I’m rushing things,” he whispered as he pressed a soft kiss against her hair.
She smiled wistfully and blushed. “It’s not your fault . . . I could have stopped you . . . I didn’t want to.”
“Don’t blame yourself,” he murmured quietly.
In the thickening silence, Sheila could sense Noah struggling with an inner battle, resisting the tide of passion that was pushing against him. She reached for her blouse, hoping to pull it back onto her body so she could leave this house . . . this man before he ignited the passions in her blood and she was once again filled with liquid fire. If possible she hoped to leave the quiet room and seductively intense man with whatever shreds of dignity she could muster.
“Wait!” he commanded as he realized she was preparing to leave. His broad hand grabbed her wrist, and the silken blouse once again fell to the floor.
Sheila felt her temper begin to flare, and the tears that had been threatening to spill burned in her throat. She was tired, and it had been a long, fruitless evening. She had accomplished nothing she had intended to do, and now she wasn’t sure if she was capable of working with Ben Wilder or his son. Too many emotions had come and gone with the intimate evening, too many secrets divulged. And yet, despite the growing sense of intimacy she felt with Noah, she knew there were deep, abysmal misconceptions that she couldn’t possibly bridge. “What, Noah?” she asked in a tense, raw whisper. “What do you want from me? All night long I’ve been on the receiving end of conflicting emotions.” Her breath was coming in short, uneven gasps. Tears threatened to spill. “One minute you want me and the next . . . you don’t. Just let me go home, for God’s sake!”
“You’re wrong!”
“I doubt that!” She pulled her hand free of the gentle manacle of his grip, scooted silently away from him, snatched up the blouse and quickly stretched her arms through the sleeves. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons, so intent was she on getting out of the house as rapidly as possible . . . away from the magnetism of his eyes . . . away from the charm of his dimpled, slightly off-center smile . . . away from the warm persuasion of his hands....
Noah dragged himself into a sitting position before standing up and leaning against the warm stones of the fireplace. He let his forehead fall into the palm of his hand as he tried to think things out rationally. The entire scene was out of character for him. What the devil had he done, seducing this woman he had barely met? Why was she so responsive to his touch? He knew instinctively that she wasn’t the type of woman who fell neatly into a stranger’s arms at the drop of a hat, and yet she was here, in his home, warm, inviting, yielding to the gentle coaxing of his caresses. His mouth pulled into a grim frown. How did he let himself get mixed up with her . . . whoever she was? And what were her motives? “Don’t go,” he said unevenly, turning to face her.
She had managed to get dressed and was putting on her raincoat. She paused for only a second before hiking the coat over her shoulders and unsteadily tying the belt. “I think it would be best.”
“I want you to stay, here, tonight, with me.”
Sheila took in a long, steadying breath. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know you well enough.”
“But if you don’t stay, how will you ever . . . ‘know me well enough’? ” he countered. He stood away from her, not touching her. It was her mind he wanted, as well as her body.
“I need time . . .” she whispered, beginning to waver. She had to get out, away from him. Soon, before it was too late.
He took a step toward her. “We’re both adults. It’s not as if this would be a first for either of us. You have a daughter and I have a son.”
She paused, but only slightly. “That doesn’t change things. Look, Noah, you know as well as I that I would like to fall into bed and sleep with you. But . . . I just can’t. . . .” She blushed in her confusion. “I can’t just hop into bed with any man I find attractive.... Oh, this is coming out all wrong.” She took a deep breath and lifted her eyes to meet his. They were steady and strong, though tears had begun to pool in their gray-blue depths. “What I’m trying to say,” she managed bravely, “is that I don’t have casual affairs.”
“I know that.”
“You don’t understand. I’ve never slept with any man, other . . . other than Jeff.”
“Your ex-husband,” Noah surmised with a tightening of his jaw.
Sheila nodded.
“It doesn’t matter,” Noah said with a shrug.
“Of course it does. Don’t you see? I almost tumbled into bed with you . . . on the first night I’d met you. That’s not like me, not at all . . . I don’t even know you.”
His scowl lifted, and an amused light danced in his eyes. “I think you know me better than you’re willing to admit.”
