you were blinded by that stuff, too?” she demanded with an ironic humor that mocked his naiveté. “It was all a load of publicists’ nonsense. Inside I’m just like any other woman.”
He looked down at her flushed face and glowing brown eyes. “No,” he said slowly, “you’re not just like any other woman. You never could be.”
“That’s it, isn’t it? Tiger Lady was different—guilty from the start.”
“That’s nonsense.”
“No, it isn’t. There was something about me that set your back up the moment you saw me.”
“We’re getting off the point,” he said, wishing she’d stop this.
“But it’s true, isn’t it? What was it that made you hate me?”
“I don’t know,” he said somberly.
“Is it still there? Do you hate me now as you did then?” Helplessly, he shook his head. “What do you feel this minute?” she persisted. “Tell me.”
Desperation made him candid. “I don’t need to tell you. A woman who’s been pursued by so many men must know it when she sees it.”
A speculative smile touched her lips. This was proving easier than she’d thought. “Perhaps,” she murmured.
“Does that please you, Megan?” he mocked. “Is that what you really want, to make me your slave like the others, so that you can enjoy kicking me in the teeth? Would that give you satisfaction?”
“I have no plans for kicking you in the teeth,” she told him softly.
“So what’s in your mind? You had a reason for changing your clothes, and it wasn’t just authenticity. You were determined to make me say that I want you—”
“I don’t need to hear you say it,” she reminded him.
“That’s right. I gave myself away last night, and that’s when you decided...what? Just how far into the net do you want to lure me?”
“Why don’t you try and find out?” she suggested.
The suggestion was too much for him. With a low growl from his very depths, he pulled her against him and smothered her mouth with his own. There was madness in the passion that swept over him, engulfing him in its pounding urgency. Everything about this situation was insane. He knew that, but he was helpless in the grasp of sensations that he’d never experienced before. Her lips parted under his, inviting his tongue into the dark, hot depths, where there was mystery and magic. He could feel her luring him on, deliberately offering herself up to his passion, provoking him with the touch of her hands and the caresses of her lips. A tiny part of his mind that was still able to think asked, Why? But the question was drowned in the roar of his senses.
He ran his hands over the soft, pliant body that was pressed against him. It was slender but curved, the body of an experienced woman, who instinctively understood sensual pleasure and knew how to tease it alive in a man. Had she teased Henry Grainger to destruction, and then stamped on him like a worm when he got out of control? Part of him said it was impossible. The woman in his arms was all sweet, feminine urgency. She was the way a woman should be, eager and responsive, inciting and surrendering at the same moment.
But there was also something else, an undertone that was dark and fierce and hinted at primitive regions of her soul. It was alarming, thrilling and enticing at the same time.
The questions tormented him. He had a million facts on file about her life, and yet he knew nothing about her. There were two opposing pictures—either a murderess, or a deeply wronged woman—and he had no idea which one was the truth.
“Did you do it?” he heard his own voice asking hoarsely. “Tell me.” But even as he asked, he kissed her wildly on her eyes, her face, her mouth, her neck.
“Do you think I did?” she taunted him.
“I don’t know.”
She lay back in his arms and looked at him through half-closed lids. “Well that’s a step in the right direction,” she murmured in a voice that hovered on the edge of a laugh. “Once, you were very sure you
He looked down at her flushed face and glowing brown eyes. “No,” he said slowly, “you’re not just like any other woman. You never could be.”
“That’s it, isn’t it? Tiger Lady was different—guilty from the start.”
“That’s nonsense.”
“No, it isn’t. There was something about me that set your back up the moment you saw me.”
“We’re getting off the point,” he said, wishing she’d stop this.
“But it’s true, isn’t it? What was it that made you hate me?”
“I don’t know,” he said somberly.
“Is it still there? Do you hate me now as you did then?” Helplessly, he shook his head. “What do you feel this minute?” she persisted. “Tell me.”
Desperation made him candid. “I don’t need to tell you. A woman who’s been pursued by so many men must know it when she sees it.”
A speculative smile touched her lips. This was proving easier than she’d thought. “Perhaps,” she murmured.
“Does that please you, Megan?” he mocked. “Is that what you really want, to make me your slave like the others, so that you can enjoy kicking me in the teeth? Would that give you satisfaction?”
“I have no plans for kicking you in the teeth,” she told him softly.
“So what’s in your mind? You had a reason for changing your clothes, and it wasn’t just authenticity. You were determined to make me say that I want you—”
“I don’t need to hear you say it,” she reminded him.
“That’s right. I gave myself away last night, and that’s when you decided...what? Just how far into the net do you want to lure me?”
“Why don’t you try and find out?” she suggested.
The suggestion was too much for him. With a low growl from his very depths, he pulled her against him and smothered her mouth with his own. There was madness in the passion that swept over him, engulfing him in its pounding urgency. Everything about this situation was insane. He knew that, but he was helpless in the grasp of sensations that he’d never experienced before. Her lips parted under his, inviting his tongue into the dark, hot depths, where there was mystery and magic. He could feel her luring him on, deliberately offering herself up to his passion, provoking him with the touch of her hands and the caresses of her lips. A tiny part of his mind that was still able to think asked, Why? But the question was drowned in the roar of his senses.
He ran his hands over the soft, pliant body that was pressed against him. It was slender but curved, the body of an experienced woman, who instinctively understood sensual pleasure and knew how to tease it alive in a man. Had she teased Henry Grainger to destruction, and then stamped on him like a worm when he got out of control? Part of him said it was impossible. The woman in his arms was all sweet, feminine urgency. She was the way a woman should be, eager and responsive, inciting and surrendering at the same moment.
But there was also something else, an undertone that was dark and fierce and hinted at primitive regions of her soul. It was alarming, thrilling and enticing at the same time.
The questions tormented him. He had a million facts on file about her life, and yet he knew nothing about her. There were two opposing pictures—either a murderess, or a deeply wronged woman—and he had no idea which one was the truth.
“Did you do it?” he heard his own voice asking hoarsely. “Tell me.” But even as he asked, he kissed her wildly on her eyes, her face, her mouth, her neck.
“Do you think I did?” she taunted him.
“I don’t know.”
She lay back in his arms and looked at him through half-closed lids. “Well that’s a step in the right direction,” she murmured in a voice that hovered on the edge of a laugh. “Once, you were very sure you
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