The haunting melody silvered through the room, the notes weaving unforgettable patterns of beauty in the air.
Daisy's hand clutched the shawl tighter around her, her gaze fixed on Jason's dark head bent over the keyboard. She was jarred from desire to a higher emotional plane that was no less powerful in intensity. Her throat tightened as she felt the tears rise to her eyes. Beautiful. Dear heaven, his music was beautiful.
Even Charlie had been drawn from his absorption. "I like that. I don't think I've ever heard it."
"I'm not surprised." Jason's eyes met Daisy's across the room. "It's from a new Broadway musical. There's no cast album out yet."
"What's it called?"
" 'Last Love,' " Jason said. "The lead soprano sings it." Jason smiled at Daisy as he continued to play. "I think you'd like the lyrics too."
She gazed at him helplessly as the music possessed her.
"Pretty," Charlie muttered, lost again in his painting.
Not pretty. Mesmerizing, heart-stopping, ravishing, Daisy thought.
"Do you like it?" Jason asked her softly.
He knew damn well she loved it. "Yes." She tried to keep her voice steady.
"Perhaps I could find the sheet music for you."
She didn't answer.
"Would you like that?"
"No. I have my hands full doing Fantine."
"Well, if you change your mind, tell me." He turned back to the keyboard. "I'm always willing to oblige."
As Lucifer was ready to oblige Eve with the apple of knowledge, she thought bitterly.
Jason continued to play softly for the next hour. He didn't confine himself to "Last Love" but he always came back to it.
Finally, Daisy couldn't take it any longer. She forced a smile as she jumped up and stepped down from the platform. "Sorry, Charlie, I have to leave early today and get this mop of a mane trimmed." She turned to Jason. "You needn't wait. I'll drive myself."
"I wouldn't think of it." Jason didn't look up from the keyboard as his fingers moved over the keys. "I don't have anything else to do."
Daisy gave him a tormented glance before she strode toward the bedroom and closed the door. As she hurriedly changed clothes, "Last Love" drifted to her from the other room.
She exploded as soon as they were out of Charlie's earshot and were walking toward the car. "That wasn't fair."
He opened the passenger door of the car for her. "You didn't enjoy the entertainment?"
"You—it wasn't fair, dammit."
"I know." His lips tightened. "But you gave me no choice. I could see from the minute I walked into the cottage today that you were pushing me away."
She waited until he had gotten into the driver's seat and started the engine before she said, "You're right. I meant to tell you that I know I made a mistake last night. I was upset and—"
"You want to go back to being buddies," he finished for her. He shook his head. "No way."
"It's best." She looked straight ahead. "I can't handle this right now."
"Then you shouldn't have started it."
"I realize it's principally my fault." She was trying to speak slowly and reasonably. "But I've thought it over and decided we can't go on with it."
His gaze narrowed on her face. "I'm not going to argue with you."
"There's nothing to argue about. My decision is made."
"Decisions are made to be changed." He started the car and edged away from the curb as he said gruffly, "I can't let you take this away from me, Daisy. Not after I had a taste of what it could be."
That was an odd way of phrasing it. "What do you mean?"
"I mean that you've just declared war." His lips tightened grimly. "And that I take no prisoners." He drew a deep breath. "Look, I don't want it to be this way. I'll make a deal with you. I'll forget about Desdemona for a while, but I've got to have something. I know damn well I can please you. Come to my hotel room after the play and let me show you."
She didn't answer.
"Will you think about it?"
She nodded her head jerkily. She would agree to anything to end this scene that was growing more painful by the moment. "I'll think about it."
After the first act that night Jason knocked perfunctorily before opening the door of the dressing room.
Daisy tensed and whirled on her stool to face him. "I didn't expect to see you. Were you out front?"
He shook his head. "I told you I wouldn't watch you onstage again."
If she hadn't been so nervous, she would have noticed immediately that he wasn't dressed for the theater. In his fitted jeans and white cham-bray shirt he looked tough, male, and so sensual she felt her resolve falter as she looked at him. It's only chemistry, she told herself desperately. She had no choice about love—but lust was completely apart. If she was determined, she could fight it.
But, dear God, the chemistry was strong.
She turned back to the mirror and straightened the short curly blond wig on her head. The image in the mirror wasn't reassuring. In the loose, high-necked white cotton nightgown she had worn for her last scene she had an air of childlike vulnerability. "That's right. I forgot. Though I've never understood why you feel—" She broke off as she heard the lock on the door being turned. Her spine went rigid as she looked at Jason's reflection in the mirror. "I suppose you have a reason for doing that?"
"A very good reason. I didn't want to be disturbed." He walked toward her. "Did you intend to come to my hotel tonight?"
"I don't—" She stopped and wearily shook her head. "No."
"I didn't think so. You were definitely wobbling this afternoon." He stopped behind her, and his gaze met her own in the mirror. "Level with me. Why not? You want to come."
She moistened her lips with her tongue. "It's best that— You're a bit too ruthless for me."
"Because I upped the ante when I played Night Song this afternoon? That has nothing to do with this." He squatted beside her padded stool. "It's on an entirely different plane." His warm lips feathered the nape of her neck. "I hate this wig. Take it off and let me see your hair."
A hot shiver went through her and she felt suddenly weak. "It's too much trouble. It's pinned on and—" She inhaled sharply as his hands slid around to cup her breasts through the loose white cotton of her nightgown. "No," she said. "The play ..."
"You don't appear again until the last scene. Not for almost an hour." His fingers quickly undid the bodice and slipped inside to touch her breasts. She arched forward at the shock of hard warmth of his palms against the softness of her flesh. "Plenty of time." His fingers plucked gently on her nipples, and she bit her lower lip to keep from crying out as fire streaked through her. "We weren't on the mountain last night for more than forty minutes." One hand left her and began to take out the pins holding her wig in place while the other continued to squeeze and play with her. "We could use that couch ..."
"No, I told you—" She stopped as his warm tongue entered her ear. Another erotic shock. Why wasn't she fighting him? She felt butter-soft, pliable in his hands.
He pulled the wig from her head, and her long hair tumbled down. "Ah, that's better." He lifted a long silky strand and rubbed it slowly back and forth against his lips. "So soft ..."
Somehow that gesture was even more erotic than the simultaneous caressing of her naked breast with his other hand. A surge of heat exploded inside her, and she sank back against him with a half-audible cry. She sat there, trembling, unable to move as he slowly rubbed her hair between his thumb and forefinger, his hand hidden in her bodice, his gaze never leaving her own in the mirror. He whispered, "Look at your face. You want this." He parted the material of her bodice so that she could see the shameless swollen, distended evidence of his words in the mirror. "Aren't you beautiful?"
She closed her eyes, but she could still hear his words.
"But not here," he whispered. "We don't want to use that couch over there. I want a bed and time to savor you. Can't you see how unreasonable you're being?"
/> "I can see that you're trying to hypnotize me." And succeeding, she thought, feeling utterly desperate again.
He chuckled. "It's called seduction." His smile faded. "Though hypnotism doesn't sound bad at the moment. I admit I'd like to mesmerize you into doing anything I want." His lips brushed her nape again. "Everything and anything. Would you like me to tell you how I'd start?"
Her eyes opened languidly, but she still didn't move. "No."
"Why are you so uptight?" His lips were gently tugging on a tendril of hair at her nape. "It was your choice. You initiated and I responded."
But that was before she realized how much she loved him, how helpless she was to resist him. "I'm not initiating any longer, I told you—"
"It was a mistake." As he finished the sentence his lips tightened grimly. "Too late. You had your chance to back out last night. Maybe it would have been better for both of us if you had now we have to play it out until the end."
She laughed shakily. "That sounds like a threat. I know you wouldn't use force, Jason."
"No, but anything else. I'm feeling wild." He stood up, his hand still lingering in her hair. "I won't give up, Daisy. If you don't come to me tonight, I'll be here tomorrow. I'm afraid I've learned to reach out and grab what I want." He smiled crookedly. "Before it's taken away from me."
Grab the brass ring.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a hotel key and placed it on the vanity. "I'll be waiting."
She stared blindly down at the metal key as he moved toward the door.
"There's nothing to be afraid of, Daisy." He paused at the door. "You'll have nothing but pleasure with me. Will you come?"
She didn't answer, and a moment later the door closed behind him.
Dear heaven, her body ached with need and she was shaking uncontrollably. She couldn't take this. She leaned forward and buried her hot face in her hands. She knew now Jason would never give up until she gave in to him. Just pretending everything was all right, getting through every day with Charlie, was a battle now, and she couldn't endure more conflict on another front. What did it matter if she got hurt? At least she could seize a little happiness and forgetfulness now.
Grab the brass ring.
♦ * *
Jason lay propped against the headboard of the bed with only a sheet covering his naked hips when Daisy let herself into his hotel room.
The room was dark except for the lamp burning on the bedside table, and she hoped he couldn't see how tense she was. She felt vulnerable enough without a spotlight revealing her nervousness.
Jason's tense muscles visibly relaxed when he saw her in the doorway. "You took a hell of a long time."
"I wasn't sure I was coming at all. I can't stay long. I have to get home to Charlie." She moistened her lips with her tongue. "You have to understand. Charlie comes first. A few hours after the performance won't matter too much, but that's all."
"Oh, I understand." He smiled crookedly. "Now that I'm properly warned of my unimportance in the scheme of things, do you suppose you could come in and shut the door?"
She closed the door and drew a deep, tremulous breath. "I feel very strange. I've never done anything like this before."
"Then I'd better convince you that it's worth your while to stay." He threw aside the sheet and got out of bed. She caught a glimpse of strong thighs, massive chest, rampant arousal as he snatched up a midnight-blue robe from the chair by the bed and strode toward her. He took her purse and tossed it on the chest beside the door and handed her the robe. "Bathroom." He patted her matter-of-factly on the derriere and pushed her toward a door leading off the bedroom. "A hot shower to relax you and you'll be fine."
She looked at him uncertainly and he grinned reassuringly and winked at her.
How odd to have a naked man wink at you, she thought, bemused, as she moved toward the bathroom. After the spellbinding seduction to which she had been subjected in her dressing room, Jason's lightness put her off balance. She disappeared into the bathroom and turned on the shower.
Jason was wrong; the shower did little to relax her. She was too conscious of him waiting naked just beyond the door. After she had dried herself she slipped on the dark blue velour robe, took off her shower cap, and let her hair flow down her back. She reached up and tentatively touched a lock brushing her shoulders. Her breasts swelled against the soft material of the robe as she recalled Jason rubbing those strands back and forth across his lips. Her heart was suddenly slamming against her rib cage. She had been half joking about him hypnotizing her, but she couldn't deny the physical magnetism he held for her. Sweet heaven, she wanted him.
She took a deep breath, turned, and opened the door. He was sitting on the chair across the room, one leg thrown over the arm of the chair as natural and at ease as if he were fully clothed. She wished desperately she could be as calm.
His gaze searched her face and his eyes widened. "I'll be damned, I think you're afraid of me."
"No," she said. "Yes." Her hand fumbled nervously at the belt at her waist. "I told you I wasn't used to this kind of thing."
He rose slowly to his feet and came toward her. "I should have had you under me in that bed two minutes after you walked into the room. Then you wouldn't have had time to think about—" He stopped before her and reached out his index finger to gently touch her left cheek. "I wanted to show you how patient and gentlemanly I could be. Hoisted on my own petard." His hand fell away from her cheek and he stepped back. "Well, I'll have to repair my fences, won't I?"
"What do you mean?" She watched in bewilderment as he crossed the room, lifted the heavy easy chair in which he had been lounging, and carried it to the center of the room. "And what on earth are you doing?"
"Setting the stage. Too bad we don't have a platform." He slanted a reckless smile at her, then positioned the chair beneath the small amber and crystal chandelier in the center of the bedroom. "You're going to pose for me."
She blinked. "What?"
"You heard me." He pushed her gently back into the big chair before going over to the wall beside the door and turning on the overhead light. "I want to make damn sure you want me as much as I want you." He came back toward her. "As much as you wanted me this afternoon in the cottage when you were posing for your father." His fingers brushed her throat and a shiver went through her. "But you weren't really posing for Charlie, were you? It was for me. You were remembering I told you last night how I fantasized about you when you posed. When you looked at me, I knew you were wondering if I was still thinking about the two of us in the chair." He settled himself on the floor a few yards away and crossed his legs as he had that afternoon in the cottage. "And we both know I was." He smiled coaxingly. "Pose for me, Daisy."
The hot color stained her cheeks. "I . . . can't. I feel foolish."
"But excited?"
She was surprised to find her nervousness ebbing, submerged by the sheer erotic strangeness of the situation. "Yes," she whispered.
"Do you want to know what I'm thinking now?"
Her fascinated gaze met his across the room. His face was taut, his light green eyes shimmering, his lips heavily sensual.
"Yes."
"I'm thinking how fair your hair looks against the dark blue of the robe." His voice lowered. "And I'm thinking how much I'd like you to take the robe off. Will you do that for me, Daisy?"
His tone was coaxing, but again she had the feeling of being mesmerized by the sheer force of his will. "Do it," he repeated softly. "I didn't get the chance to savor you last night. I want to look at you."
Her fingers began automatically to fumble with the belt at her waist while his words flowed over her. "That dark texture makes you look as fragile as Venetian glass. Your skin glows against it, and your hair ..." His gaze wandered down to her bare feet peeping out from underneath the hem of the robe. "It's funny how bare feet can make you look completely vulnerable."
The sash was untied, but she hesitated, shy, uncertain.
"Take it off,
" he said thickly, still staring at her feet.
She took a deep breath and slipped her arms from the robe and let it fall to the cushions of the chair in back of her.
Jason's gaze moved with excruciating slowness up her ankles to her calves to her thighs, lingering for a moment on the curls that encircled her womanhood before traveling over her belly to her breasts. "What an exquisite surprise. The rest of you is so delicate and fine-boned and then to see that beautiful fullness ..." He smiled as he saw her nipples begin to harden beneath his gaze. "Tell me what you're thinking."
"I feel like a slave girl sitting before a sultan," she said shakily.
"That's not reasonable when you're on the throne and I'm the one at your feet." His gaze lifted to her face. "You're only giving me my fantasy and posing for me."
She wasn't sure anymore whose fantasy this was. She felt excitement building higher and higher within her with every passing moment. Dear heaven, his eyes . . .
"Kneel on the chair." His voice was hoarse. "And bring your hair over your shoulders to cover your breasts."
She moved dreamily, languidly, to obey him.
"That's right. Now, just stay there and let me look at you."
The atmosphere in the room was thick, charged, electric. She found her breasts lifting and falling beneath the veil of her hair as she struggled to force air into her constricted lungs. The moments stretched on. He didn't move.
"You're trembling," he said raggedly.
She was doing more than trembling. She was shaking like a leaf in a storm. She could do nothing but stare at him, at the smooth, powerful muscles of his shoulders, bunched, ready, and yet leashed. At the brawny thighs dusted with fine hair, at his chest with its dark triangle . . .
"But so am I."
He was suddenly on his feet, moving across the room toward her. With one movement he scooped her up, swiveled, and dropped into the chair. "It's time. I can't stand it any longer." He fitted her to him and sank into her with one plunge and then was still. His chest was moving heavily, frantically, as he buried his face in her hair. "Lord, I didn't think I'd make it." His hands gripped her hips, sealing her to him. "Hang on, it's going to be a wild ride."