"Bryn..."
Suddenly his arm was about her, pressing her close until she felt scorched by his body heat, touched by the thunder of his heart. The bronze fingers on her chin held her firm as his lips lowered to hers, firm like his hands, commanding, but persuasive.A touch like lightning. Like the warmth of the sun. So sensual that she felt dizzy, as if her body were spinning along with the earth. His tongue rimmed her lips with a subtle expertise, parted them,delved beyond them.Deeper, deeper, sweetly, firmly exploring, filling her with a current of swiftly burning desire. Somehow hinting of another fulfillment with the crush of his hips against hers, a touch so close that it blatantly spoke to her body of the force of his need...
"No!"
He didn't stop her as she jerked away from him. If he had attempted to, he would easily have succeeded. She was well aware of his strength.
"Please!" she murmured, meeting the disappointed narrowing of his eyes. Panic swelled again. He knew her.Too well.Frighteningly, threateningly.Knew that she didn't dislike him, that she did want him. She had to say something that would dissuade him before she set herself up for the biggest fall of her life.
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"Damn it!" she spat. "Are you incapable of believing that someone seriously might not wantyour
...attentions? Listen to me! I--do--not--want--to--get--involved. I do not like rock stars--or any form of
'star,' for that matter. I don't like your type of man. Please! I-- You're making me very nervous. I'm asking you to leave my house."
She expected anger; she even flinched involuntarily. But his contemptuous stare was worse than anything she could have anticipated. "Relax, Miss Keller. I'm not sure what my 'type' of man is, but I don't run around raping women, or striking them. I'm just sorry that you feel compelled to be such a liar.And to shield yourself in a glass house. Good night."
Bryn bit her lip, feeling the tears well into her eyes. What was she doing? He had every right to fire her, and she would much prefer that he did strike her than fire her! God, what was she doing?
Watching the breadth of his shoulders and his proud carriage as he moved to the door, she felt shamed by the extent of his quiet dignity.
"Lee..." she gulped out quickly. "The phone...uh...you need to call Mick or Perry."
"Thanks--I'll find a pay phone. I can use a nice brisk walk in the evening air."
"Lee, you don't understand--"
He stopped at the door and turned back to her with a grim smile. "There are wonderful benefits to being a 'tom-tom' player, Bryn. You can go and beat the hell out of the drums and control all your savage tendencies with that outlet. You can close your mouth, Bryn. And don't look so terrified. I would never fire an employee over a personal problem. You still have a job. In fact, Barbara should be calling you over the weekend. We're doing the pictures on Monday. Rehearsal at theFultonplace is still at9:00 a.m.; buthave your equipment with you, because we'll be going directly to theTimberlane Country Club right after to do some shots with the group."
Bryn stared at him, feeling her face flame crimson. Words! The power of words! She had carelessly issued a few in front of the children--words she had spoken only in frustration and anger--and now it seemed she was to pay for them forever.
I'm sorry....
The thought welled in her throat; she wanted to tell him that she had never meant anything cruel. She even wanted to explain that she could be hurt too easily by any involvement, that she couldn't trust a man to care for a woman--and three young children.
She had wanted so badly to get rid of him. And now, right now in this moment, she wanted nothing more than to explain. But she had shouted and she had been cruel, and now it was too late. Words--words that she desperately needed now--refused to come to her aid. The door opened quietly. And it closed just as quietly behind him.
Chapter 4
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Lee hadn't dreamed in a long time. And during swatches ofsemiconsciousness , when he realized that his restless sleep was being pierced by dreams, he mentally assured himself that it was probably a normal occurrence Bryn Keller's words would combine withVictoria's face and the sense of helplessness that had assailed him at the time would come back with a painful force.
Sometimes, when he closed his eyes, thedreamworld took him back.Far back. It had all been fairly simple inSouth Dakota. Half the people in his small town had Indian blood. He had loved being a Blackfoot then.Loved the days with grandfather.Peaceful days, perfect days. Days in which he had eagerly learned to stalk deer, to watch the flight of the hawk and move through the night as one with it.
But then hadcome the move toNew York.And the taunts from the kids in the streets.And the fights.