calls?" she whispered blankly.
Torr carefully flattened the crumpled photograph and glanced down at the male figure in the picture. "Him. The guy you go to the coast with so often."
Abby swallowed nervously, her eyes never leaving Torr's hard face. "You know nothing about this. And I'm under no obligation to explain myself to you. It's time you left, Torr."
"I'm not leaving without the truth," he stated quietly.
"And if you don't happen to like the truth or believe it?" she retorted.
"Then I probably won't leave at all. At least, not without taking you with me."
Her mouth went dry. "Torr, you can't do this."
"Do what? All I'm asking for is an explanation."
"I've given you one! As well as an apology for breaking our date. What more do you think you're entitled to, anyway? Torr, I don't owe you anything!"
"Are you in love with him?"
"In love with who?" she yelped furiously.
"The man in the photograph."
"No, I am not in love with him!"
"Then why are you dashing off to spend a week on the coast with the man?"
"I am not going to spend the week with Ward!" Abby shut her eyes in self-disgust as she realized how much she'd been goaded into saying.
"Ward?"
"Never mind. Just leave, Torr. Please. I have to get out of here."
"I'd like a last name to pin on him," Torr remarked placidly, studying the photo.
"Well, you can wait until hell freezes over!"
He glanced up, his gaze still and strangely frightening. "Don't you know," Torr uttered very softly, "that the outer reaches of hell are already frozen? Hell is a very cold place, Abby. Not a warm one. Cold and infinitely lonely."
In that moment Abby recognized with great certainty that Torr Latimer knew what he was talking about. They regarded each other across the distance of the room. Abby was aware that she wasn't going to get rid of this man without giving him some answers.
"Believe what you want to believe," she finally said wearily. "It doesn't really matter, anyway."
"Try telling me the truth. I think I'll believe it when I hear it."
She moved restlessly, going across the room to sink down onto the sofa. "I don't want to talk about it, Torr. Please. Go away."
He stood up with a smooth, lithe movement that made her flinch. He crossed the room before she could get to her feet and an instant later his strong hands closed around her upper arms. He lifted her off the couch until she stood facing him, her face stark with helpless defiance.
"Is the man in the photograph your lover?" Each word was delivered with the impact of a body blow.
Fear came to Abby then. The kind of fear she had dreaded experiencing again with a man. With it came a fierce determination not to be crushed by it.
"I've told you he's not my lover."
"Who is he?"
"I don't wish to tell you that."
"Abby, you're going to tell me."
"And if I don't?" The challenge took all of her courage. She could feel his blunt fingers sinking deeply into the flesh of her arms and the strength of him made her catch her breath.
"You will." It wasn't a threat. As Torr had explained, he simply made statements of fact. Quite suddenly Abby believed him.
"My cousin's husband," she whispered. "Ward Tyson. The man who runs Lyndon Technologies, my uncle's computer firm."
"And you're not on your way to spend the week with him?"
"No!"
"But you spent a weekend with him this past winter?"
"That's none of your business!" she hissed.
He said nothing but his big hands moved up her arms to curl around her throat. The fear smashed through her in a sudden burst and she opened her mouth to scream.
He stifled the cry with his lips, crushed them beneath his own with an intensity that robbed her of breath. Frozen with panic, she went utterly still, waiting for the tightening of his fingers around her throat. Her eyes stayed open and her body was taut under his touch. She would fight, she vowed silently.
But the big, blunt fingers on her throat never tightened. And while his mouth took control and coolly dominated hers, the
Torr carefully flattened the crumpled photograph and glanced down at the male figure in the picture. "Him. The guy you go to the coast with so often."
Abby swallowed nervously, her eyes never leaving Torr's hard face. "You know nothing about this. And I'm under no obligation to explain myself to you. It's time you left, Torr."
"I'm not leaving without the truth," he stated quietly.
"And if you don't happen to like the truth or believe it?" she retorted.
"Then I probably won't leave at all. At least, not without taking you with me."
Her mouth went dry. "Torr, you can't do this."
"Do what? All I'm asking for is an explanation."
"I've given you one! As well as an apology for breaking our date. What more do you think you're entitled to, anyway? Torr, I don't owe you anything!"
"Are you in love with him?"
"In love with who?" she yelped furiously.
"The man in the photograph."
"No, I am not in love with him!"
"Then why are you dashing off to spend a week on the coast with the man?"
"I am not going to spend the week with Ward!" Abby shut her eyes in self-disgust as she realized how much she'd been goaded into saying.
"Ward?"
"Never mind. Just leave, Torr. Please. I have to get out of here."
"I'd like a last name to pin on him," Torr remarked placidly, studying the photo.
"Well, you can wait until hell freezes over!"
He glanced up, his gaze still and strangely frightening. "Don't you know," Torr uttered very softly, "that the outer reaches of hell are already frozen? Hell is a very cold place, Abby. Not a warm one. Cold and infinitely lonely."
In that moment Abby recognized with great certainty that Torr Latimer knew what he was talking about. They regarded each other across the distance of the room. Abby was aware that she wasn't going to get rid of this man without giving him some answers.
"Believe what you want to believe," she finally said wearily. "It doesn't really matter, anyway."
"Try telling me the truth. I think I'll believe it when I hear it."
She moved restlessly, going across the room to sink down onto the sofa. "I don't want to talk about it, Torr. Please. Go away."
He stood up with a smooth, lithe movement that made her flinch. He crossed the room before she could get to her feet and an instant later his strong hands closed around her upper arms. He lifted her off the couch until she stood facing him, her face stark with helpless defiance.
"Is the man in the photograph your lover?" Each word was delivered with the impact of a body blow.
Fear came to Abby then. The kind of fear she had dreaded experiencing again with a man. With it came a fierce determination not to be crushed by it.
"I've told you he's not my lover."
"Who is he?"
"I don't wish to tell you that."
"Abby, you're going to tell me."
"And if I don't?" The challenge took all of her courage. She could feel his blunt fingers sinking deeply into the flesh of her arms and the strength of him made her catch her breath.
"You will." It wasn't a threat. As Torr had explained, he simply made statements of fact. Quite suddenly Abby believed him.
"My cousin's husband," she whispered. "Ward Tyson. The man who runs Lyndon Technologies, my uncle's computer firm."
"And you're not on your way to spend the week with him?"
"No!"
"But you spent a weekend with him this past winter?"
"That's none of your business!" she hissed.
He said nothing but his big hands moved up her arms to curl around her throat. The fear smashed through her in a sudden burst and she opened her mouth to scream.
He stifled the cry with his lips, crushed them beneath his own with an intensity that robbed her of breath. Frozen with panic, she went utterly still, waiting for the tightening of his fingers around her throat. Her eyes stayed open and her body was taut under his touch. She would fight, she vowed silently.
But the big, blunt fingers on her throat never tightened. And while his mouth took control and coolly dominated hers, the
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