White Satin

  “I liked it better without it.” It was just like Anthony to build walls to shut the world out, Dany thought, her gaze fixed on the rambling Tudor-style brick house at the top of the hill. The two-story mansion was built of mellow pink brick, and the lead-glass windows and graceful fanlight over the front door gave it an air of warm, open invitation. Why had Anthony bought it when it was sold after her parents were killed in that boating accident? It wasn’t his type of home at all. Even as a child she’d been aware of that. Anthony was as uneasy in cozy domestic surroundings as an unfettered panther would be.

  “You lived here all your life until you were fourteen?” Beau asked, and immediately recalled the answer to his question. “Of course. Anthony was a friend of your parents, wasn’t he?” His forehead knotted thoughtfully. “He became your guardian when you were eight, and they’d been killed in that accident. He must have been very close to them to assume the responsibilities of a kid so willingly. Anthony isn’t what you’d call the fatherly type.”

  “I guess so,” Dany admitted. That was, she knew, a distinct understatement. “I remember him being around the estate occasionally when I was five or six.” But he hadn’t really been close to her carefree, jet-setter parents. Beneath that glittery veil of charm he drew about himself on occasion, Dany had been aware of a dislike that was close to animosity whenever the four of them were together. She’d sensed it with a child’s unwavering instinct and been surprised that her parents hadn’t felt it. She shouldn’t have been, she supposed. Her parents hadn’t been especially sensitive to anything that didn’t affect their own comfort and pleasure.

  But it seemed totally absurd. Anthony couldn’t possibly have had any other reason than affection and a sense of obligation to her parents when he’d sued for guardianship of her. Dany shook her head in bewildered frustration as the limousine pulled smoothly to a halt before the front entrance. Why did she even try to fathom Anthony’s motivation for anything? He was a law unto himself, an enigma she hadn’t been able to solve for the past twelve years.

  Pete Drissell, the chauffeur who was opening the passenger door and helping Marta and her from the limousine, was a quietly courteous young man and as unfamiliar to her as the black-jacketed, gray-haired servant who opened the front door.

  “Miss Alexander? I’m Paul Jens. Mr. Malik is waiting for you in the library.” His voice was meticulously polite. “He asked me to send you there immediately upon your arrival. I’ll have one of the maids take up your luggage to the room I understand you occupied previously. I’ll take Mr. Lantry and Miss Paulsen to their rooms now if they’ll follow me.” The polite query was really a command, and Beau gave Dany a resigned shrug as he allowed Marta and her to precede him into the spacious oak parquet–tiled foyer.

  “Looks as though you’re destined to beard the lion in his den alone, sugar,” he said as he started to follow Paul Jens up the wide, curving stairway. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

  “Don’t let him keep you too long,” Marta warned. “You need a nap. You didn’t sleep very much on that jet. You can’t afford to exhaust yourself unnecessarily with the kind of schedule you’ve got.”

  “I’ll give Anthony your instructions,” Dany said wryly as she slipped off her beige cashmere polo coat and draped it over her arm. “For all the good it will do me.” Evidently Anthony wasn’t even going to give her an opportunity to settle in and renew her acquaintance with Briarcliff before he demanded an explanation for yesterday’s debacle.

  She dropped her coat on the long cushioned bench against the wall and walked quickly down the corridor to the library. She paused for a moment before an oval mirror framed in glowing mahogany to tidy her auburn hair into its usual neat bun on top of her head. Heavens, she thought, I look terrible. Her thin, delicate face was even more fragile-appearing than usual, and her dark eyes with their frame of extravagantly long lashes had mauve shadows beneath them. Not exactly a facade to inspire confidence when she was about to face a powerhouse like Anthony. Well, even at her best she’d never been able to confront him with the same poise with which she handled the public and the media.

  She drew a deep breath as she paused outside the richly paneled oak door of the library. How stupid to have this crazy fluttering in the pit of her stomach. He wasn’t going to eat her, for heaven’s sake. She raised her hand and knocked firmly on the door.

  “Come in.”

  He was sitting in a huge leather chair pushed back from the mahogany desk that was the central focus of the room. As usual, her first impression of him was one of dynamic strength and overpowering magnetism.

  She could see all of him. He was dressed casually in jeans and a crew-neck sweater in a cream color that made the bronze of his skin and the satin darkness of his hair gleam with added vibrancy in contrast. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on the lean, graceful body, and the sinewy power of his shoulders and the muscular strength of his thighs only accented his supple slenderness.

  There was a swift flicker of emotion in the silver-green of his eyes as he saw her standing waiting in the doorway, but it was gone in an instant. He gestured to the deep russet leather chair next to the desk. “Sit down, Dany. I’ve been waiting for you.” He pushed aside the pile of documents he’d been working on. He appraised her coolly, from the hip-length, cowl-neck caramel-colored sweater and matching slacks to the darker brown short suede boots. “You’ve lost weight again. I thought you had when I saw you on television yesterday. Beau says you’re overdoing the practice and not eating enough.”

  “Evidently he’s wrong—about the practice at least,” she said flippantly as she closed the door and strolled over to the chair he’d indicated. “Judging by the results of the competition yesterday, I need all the practice I can get.” She dropped into the chair and raised her brows inquiringly. “I gather that’s why I’m here.” She glanced down at the kilim carpet that ran almost the length of the library. “Well, if I’m to be called on the carpet, this is a very attractive one on which to abase myself. I don’t recognize it. It’s new, isn’t it?” She looked up at him, a hint of challenge in her expression. “There are quite a few changes since I left. A new wall and gate, different servants, new furniture.”

  He leaned back in the chair, one knee lifting to rest against the edge of the desk. His eyes were narrowed thoughtfully on her face. “I like to leave my own stamp on my surroundings,” he said slowly. “I’ve never been satisfied to accept someone else’s choices or hand-me-downs”—a little smile tugged at his lips—“even if those hand-me-downs happen to be antiques.” The smile faded. “But as it happens, I did want to talk to you.”

  “I gathered that from the way you pulled us halfway across the country with the speed of light,” she said dryly. She moistened her lips nervously and looked away from him to a point over his shoulder. There was such power in his dark, impassive face. When she was away from him, she always thought her imagination was playing tricks and exaggerating his forcefulness. There was nothing conventionally handsome about him. His cheekbones were too high and broad, his lips a touch too sensual, and his chin too firm for classical good looks. It made no sense at all that when combined, those features formed a countenance with a totally riveting fascination about it. Or was his most salient characteristic that air he always exuded of something leashed and waiting beneath the cool stillness? That charged stillness was even more obvious than usual today, Dany thought uneasily. “Look, why don’t I just bring it out in the open? I blew the competition. I don’t know what was wrong, but I’ll find out and work myself to a frazzle to correct it.” She drew a deep breath and forced herself to look into those cool green eyes. They caught and held her, and she had a panicky feeling of something ebbing away deep inside her. “I won’t let you down, Anthony. I’ll be ready for Calgary.”

  “You’re damn right you will be,” he said, a touch of grimness in his voice. “I’m going to see to that personally. There wasn’t any reason for you to not win yesterday. You’re a hell of a lot better t
echnically and artistically than Margie Brandon. You were skating like a puppet on a string. You had more fire when you won the Juniors six years ago.”

  “I said I’d work on it,” she answered defensively. “You don’t have to waste your time overseeing my training yourself. I know how busy you are.”

  “So you told that ass of a sports commentator yesterday,” he said, a dark frown creasing his forehead. “I’ll be the one to judge how busy I am, Dany.”

  “Whatever you say,” she said with an effort at lightness. “You’ve become such a high-powered tycoon lately that I just thought it would be too much bother.” She paused. “You haven’t coached me personally since you hired Beau and Marta and sent me away from Briarcliff.”

  “Do you think I’m not capable of the job?” he asked, an amused smile on his lips. “I believe I still have sufficient expertise to give you what you need.”

  “No, I didn’t mean …” She stammered to a halt, cursing his effect on her. She was always such a quivering bundle of nerves around Anthony. “You know I meant no such thing,” she said with careful composure. “I’ve been told you’re still considered by most authorities to be the greatest figure skater who ever lived. When you retired from the Ice Revue to take over the Dynathe Corporation, you threw the whole sports world into shock.”

  “Then you’ll accept my humble tutelage?” There was a glimmer in his eyes that might have been laughter.

  “When have I ever had a choice?” she asked lightly. “You know you’ll do exactly as you please both with me and my career, just as you’ve always done.”

  “Not always.” His voice had deepened, and there was a sudden electric tenseness waiting beyond the stillness. “But I intend to do just that from now on. It’s only fair to warn you, Dany. I find I’m growing very impatient of late.”

  “For the gold?” she asked, puzzled. “I told you I’d work myself to a frazzle. I realize it’s going to be more your medal than mine after all you’ve done for me. You’ll have your gold, Anthony.”

  “No!” The word was spoken with such explosiveness, it startled her. “I have my own gold medal. I don’t want or need yours. When you win at Calgary, it’s got to be the crown of your achievements, your work. It’s got to be your victory, not mine or Beau’s.”

  “Of course. I know that,” she faltered. Why was he so intense about it? His eyes were almost blazing. “I just meant that I realize how much I owe you—”

  “For God’s sake, shut up!” Then, as her eyes widened in surprise, he drew a deep breath, and the cool mask was once more in place. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  She felt a deep, throbbing hurt. “I’m not a child anymore, you know. I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t speak to me like that.”

  “I know you’re not a child. Sometimes I think you never were, that you were born old.” His lips twisted. “Some of us are, you know.” He picked up the pen he’d tossed down as she’d entered and toyed with it absently. “That’s why it’s been so damn difficult for me at times. You may possess the inner maturity, but you don’t have the experience that would temper and refine it.”

  “Difficult?”

  “Never mind.” His fingers tightened spasmodically on the pen before he slowly released it. “After Calgary.”

  “All right.” Her eyes were dark with bewilderment. She’d never seen Anthony this volatile before. It made her more uneasy than ever. She started to rise. “If that’s all, I think I’ll—”

  “That’s not all,” he said crisply. “Sit down, Dany. Your performance was a disaster yesterday, but that’s not why I brought you back from Denver.”

  “It isn’t?”

  He reached into the top desk drawer and drew out a folded newspaper. “This is why you’re here.” His lips were tight and his eyes glacier-cold as he handed her the paper. “You look exceptionally affectionate. How long has this been going on?”

  She’d seen the picture the night before last in The Denver Post, but she hadn’t known it had been picked up by the wire services. “He’s only got his arm around me,” she said quickly, feeling the color surge to her cheeks. How ridiculous to feel guilty over something so innocent, she thought. “It’s not as if we were locked in a torrid embrace or anything. You can’t find anything objectionable in publicity like that.”

  “Can’t I?” he drawled. He reached across the desk and plucked the paper from her hand, then slowly and systematically wadded it into a ball and threw it into the wastebasket. “I do find it objectionable. Very objectionable. You haven’t answered me. How long has this affair been going on?”

  “It’s not an affair,” she said, stung. “I’ve only been out to dinner with Jack Kowalt a few times.”

  “That’s all?”

  “For Pete’s sake, the theater, a movie now and then. What difference does it make?”

  “It makes a hell of a lot of difference,” he said slowly, his eyes narrowed on her face. “No wonder you look so intimate in that photograph. If you’re not having an affair with Kowalt, you’re well on the way.”

  “We’re friends,” she said, her dark eyes beginning to smolder. “He’s a sportscaster who’s been assigned to cover the Olympic figure-skating team, and I’m one of those team members. We travel the same circuit. Why shouldn’t we spend time together?”

  “Kowalt is an ex–football player, and what he knows about figure skating could be put in a thimble. If he didn’t have Christy Moreno sitting in that box holding his hand and supplying her commentary, he’d make a complete ass of himself.”

  “He realizes that,” she said in defense. “He didn’t want the assignment, and he’s trying to learn as quickly as he can.”

  “Well, he can learn from someone else,” Anthony said flatly. “Christy Moreno can spend all the time she wants force-feeding him expertise. You’re not to see him again.”

  “I’m not to—” She couldn’t believe it. “What earthly right do you think you have dictating my personal life? How would you like me to say, ‘You aren’t to see Luisa anymore’?” Her eyes were blazing. “It is still Luisa, isn’t it? Or are you keeping another mistress now? You’ve had enough women to qualify for a gold in physical endurance over the years.”

  “Yes, it’s still Luisa,” he said, his lips tight. “I’m glad you regard my stamina so highly, but I assure you there’s no strain, only pleasure, in that particular sport.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” she said through clenched teeth. She stood up and leaned forward, her hands resting lightly on the mahogany desk. “But if I decide to broaden my base of experience in that area, you can be sure I’ll do it. I’ll accept your orders in my professional life, but I’ll be damned if I’ll let you tell me who to see and not to see.”

  “Or who to go to bed with?” he asked silkily.

  “Exactly. It’s none of your concern.”

  “It’s very much my concern,” he said with soft menace. “Your ex-quarterback will find that out if he tries to call any plays that I regard as foul.” His silver-green eyes weren’t cold but hot now, Dany noticed. “I’m trying to hold on to my patience until after Calgary, Dany, but I’d advise you not to push me. Don’t see him again.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said angrily. “I haven’t understood half the allusions you’ve made today. You’re not acting like yourself at all.”

  “Aren’t I?” He smiled, a slash of brilliance that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “But how would you know, Dany? You’ve never known me. Not really.”

  She knew that, and it was an aching emptiness inside her. “You haven’t let me.” Her voice was shaking with confusion and anger. “You’ve never let anyone close enough for that.”

  He became still. “I know,” he said quietly. “And it’s time for a change. I plan to let you come as close to me as you want to from now on. But I’ve waited so long, it’s made me a little savage. We only have a little further to go. Please don’t stretch my patience to the breaking p
oint.” He paused. “Cross Jack Kowalt off your list.”

  “Just like that?” She snapped her fingers. “Why should I?” She could feel her throat tighten with tears. “He gives me warmth and friendship and makes me feel I’m something special. Not only as a skater, but as a woman.” She drew a deep, quivering breath. “Why should I give that up because you’ve suddenly decided you’re generously going to allow me to be your friend? You might change your mind tomorrow and decide I’m not worthy of you. I don’t think you’d make a very reliable friend, Anthony.”

  There was a flicker in his eyes that in another man might have been interpreted as pain. “We’ll have to see, won’t we? I don’t think I’ve been a bad friend to you for the past fourteen years.”

  “You’ve given me everything,” she said huskily. “Almost everything.” She turned and walked toward the door. She faced him again and her eyes were suspiciously bright. “Where were you yesterday? I needed you.”

  He shook his head. “No, you didn’t. You don’t need anyone. Remember that.”

  He was wrong. She’d needed him and he hadn’t been there. “We’re not all as strong as you are, Anthony,” she said, lifting her chin proudly. “And we’re not all made out of ice.”

  “You’re stronger than you think. Someday you’ll find that out.” His lips tightened. “And if it makes you feel any happier, at the moment I don’t feel anything close to being a man made of ice.”

  “Where were you?” she persisted.

  He parted his lips to speak but restrained his words. Then, his face impassive, he said, “As you told the commentator, I’m a busy man.”

  The pain was swift and piercing. “You see? You wouldn’t make a very good friend,” she said shakily. “Friends understand you and are there when you need them, Anthony.” She turned, her hand on the doorknob.