Obediently she drank it, too exhausted and empty to do otherwise, watching him as he took off his coat and tossed it over the back of a chair, then unbuttoned his shirt and took it off, too. The sight of his naked, powerful torso made the bottom drop out of her stomach. She had curled her fingers in the dark hair that covered his broad chest, had noted that it was several shades darker than the tawny, sun-streaked brown of the hair on his head. The memory of the way his body had felt under her lightly stroking, exploring fingers made her jerk her eyes away from him to stare blindly at the floor as he washed the lemonade from his chest and shoulders, but she saw in her mind’s eye the way the muscles in his arms and back would flex as he moved, his biceps bulging, rippling.
“Come on, finish that,” he said gently, and she jumped, because she hadn’t realized he’d moved to her side. He was rubbing a towel over his torso, but his attention was on her. She drank the rest of the lemonade, then handed him the empty glass. He rinsed it out and placed it in the dish drainer to dry, then came back to her and bent down, one arm sliding under her knees and the other going around her back. He lifted her, and Tessa made a hoarse sound of protest.
“Shhh,” he soothed. “Don’t try to talk; you’ll only hurt your throat. You’re exhausted, and you need to sleep. I’m just going to put you to bed. When you wake up, you’ll feel better, and then we’ll talk.”
He carried her into the bedroom, and panic made her twist in his arms, but all her strength was gone, and he undressed her as easily as he would have a fractious child. When she was naked, he placed her between the cool sheets, then crossed to the window and pulled the shade down, shutting out the bright California sun. She lay frozen, unwilling to get up while he was there, exposing herself to him again, and equally unwilling to lie in that bed. He removed his shoes and socks, then undid his pants and dropped them.
Tessa struggled upright, a silent protest on her lips. “No, don’t try to talk,” he said sternly, stepping out of his briefs and coming to her totally, gloriously naked. He got into bed with her and forced her back against the pillows. “Just sleep, baby. I’m going to hold you, that’s all. I said no talking,” he repeated as she tried again to say something. “You’ve strained your throat, and you’re going to have to let it rest.” He drew her against him, his nakedness searing her like a furnace, the warmth enveloping her and sinking into her. His arms were living bonds, wrapped around her, and the hollow of his shoulder made a resting place for her head. The urgent thrust of his masculinity made her struggle weakly for a moment, but he made no sexual advances to her, merely held her, and she was so tired that her brief struggles ceased.
“Go to sleep, darling,” he whispered, and she did.
Hours later, she woke to total darkness and an urgent need for the bathroom. She fought out of the grasp of his arms and the tangle of the sheets to stumble, still half-asleep, to the bathroom. When she came out he was leaning against the wall in the hallway, waiting. Without a word he took her back to bed and once again settled her in his arms. Tessa burrowed her face against the warm strength of his neck, inhaling the unforgotten, faintly musky scent of his skin, and fell deeply asleep again, the long periods of unconsciousness just what she needed for both body and spirit.
When she woke again, she was alone in the bed, and an inborn sensitivity to the sun and the passage of time told her that it was late in the afternoon, which meant that she’d slept more than twenty-four hours, at least. She felt dopey from sleep, yet stronger than she had in what seemed like an eternity. Was Brett still in the apartment? Oddly, she wasn’t alarmed by the possibility that he might be. Well rested, she was capable of facing him now. Getting out of bed, she wrapped herself in a robe, then gathered her clothes and went to the bathroom. A shower was the most urgent thing on her agenda, and she took a long one, letting the briskly cool water finish washing away the cobwebs in her mind.
The little grooming rituals of brushing her teeth and combing her hair were soothing, and made her feel even better than she had before. Finding Brett waiting patiently outside the bathroom door made her entire body quiver in reaction, but the panic was gone now.
“Breakfast is ready,” he announced, then smiled faintly, but the smile wasn’t reflected in his eyes. “I guess it’s still breakfast, even though it is almost four in the afternoon. I figured you had to like oatmeal, otherwise you wouldn’t have bought it, and that’ll be easiest on your throat. How is your throat? Can you talk?”
“Yes,” she said, a little embarrassed at her froglike croak.
His hard, warm hand went to her wrist, and before she could draw away he had bent down and kissed her mouth briefly. “Don’t worry, your voice will come back,” he comforted, gently urging her toward the kitchen with the pressure of his hand.
She was so rattled by the touch of his mouth on hers that her hands were shaking as she ate her hot oatmeal, which he must have prepared as soon as he heard her stirring. Why had he kissed her? For that matter, why had he bothered to spend the night with her? Certainly not because of love, she thought tiredly. Guilt, probably. Well, that was his cross to bear, because she had her own problems, not the least of which was getting over him. If she ever could. If she’d ever see another day when she didn’t think about him, ever wake up in the morning and not wish that he was beside her. Somehow, she just didn’t think that day would ever come.
He was wearing different clothes, she noticed, khaki pants and a pullover white cotton shirt that fit loosely, with the sleeves rolled up over his brawny forearms. “When did you go back to the hotel?” she asked hoarsely, indicating the clothes.
“I didn’t. I called Evan, and he brought my clothes over. I didn’t want to leave you, even for an hour.”
She sipped her coffee thoughtfully, and it was a moment before she spoke. “I’m all right. I’m not going to do something stupid, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“No, that wasn’t what I was thinking. I was afraid that you’d wake up while I was gone, and lock me out,” he said simply.
She nodded. “Yes,” she said.
“I couldn’t take that chance. Not now.” His voice roughened. “I know I can’t make it up to you for what you’ve been through this past week, but I swear I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying.”
Anger stirred in her. “I don’t need your guilt! I told you, I’m all right.”
He drank his own coffee, not responding to her heated statement. “I called your aunt,” he said instead, totally surprising her. “I found her number in your telephone index. By the way, you have it listed under A, instead of S.”
“It’s Aunt Silver, not Silver Aunt,” Tessa muttered distractedly. “Why did you call her?”
“I knew she had to be worried about you, and I wanted her to know that it’s over with, at least as far as you’re concerned. I still have a thief to catch,” he added grimly.
Again, Tessa was startled. “What do you mean?”
“I know you didn’t do it.”
“You do? What about all of that famous evidence?” she rasped, rising to her feet in agitation.
“I was wrong. You didn’t do it.”
The steadiness of his gaze had the opposite effect on her; it shook her instead of calming her. She hadn’t really thought about the whys and wherefores of it, hadn’t wondered about his reason for dropping the charges. She had assumed simply that he felt sorry for her, or perhaps was having an attack of conscience over the fact that he’d seduced her for the purpose of his investigation. To hear him state flatly that he thought she was innocent was almost more than she could take in.
“I don’t understand,” she said shakily. “Why should you believe me now, when you didn’t before? The evidence hasn’t changed, has it? Have you learned something else?”
“No. Nothing new had turned up.” It would take too long to explain his feelings to her, and she wasn’t ready to hear about them anyway. He’d lain awake for hours the night before, holding her in his arms while she sl
ept, examining his sudden strong conviction that he’d wrongly accused her. Part of it had been the staggering realization of her unyielding sense of honor, so strong that she wouldn’t betray it even to protect herself. But even more, it had been the way she had loved, the open, unreserved way she’d given herself, and her virginity, to him. She was twenty-five, and she’d been engaged twice before. He certainly hadn’t expected her to be a virgin. No one would have. Yet she’d remained a virgin out of a deep sense of self-respect, an inner knowledge that perhaps she wasn’t ready yet to commit herself to that sort of intimacy with a man. She hadn’t loved her fiancé enough to forgive him his infidelity, and neither had she loved him enough to give him herself.
He felt tension coiling in his gut. Would she love him enough to forgive him? She’d loved him enough to give him the sweetness of her body, but that had been before he’d taken her love and trampled on it. What would he do if she couldn’t forgive him?
Tessa stood uncertainly by her chair, the expression on his face making her shy away from the subject. Instead she went back to the previous topic. “What did Aunt Silver say?”
“She cried,” Brett said abruptly. She’d also said some things to him that had scorched the telephone lines, but they were between him and Silver only. He’d deserved most of the things she’d said. It wasn’t until she had accused him of using Tessa that he’d brought her up short. Silver, at least, now knew exactly what his intentions were concerning Tessa. Convincing Tessa, however, was something else, and he knew he’d have to be patient. Only time would heal the wound he’d dealt her. She wouldn’t even listen to him right now if he tried to tell her that he loved her.
“Is she…is she coming back this weekend?”
“No. There’s no need for it.”
Her head drooped on her slender neck. “Then I think I’ll go home.” Even as hoarse as her voice was, there was poignancy in the way she said “home.” She longed for the peace and splendor of the mountains, bursting with the fresh green miracle of spring. She could go hiking, touring the park as she had done every year until she’d moved to California, letting the solitude ease her bruised spirit. There was certainly nothing left for her here. She’d left Tennessee in an effort to get over Andrew, and she’d succeeded beyond her wildest dreams. Andrew was nothing but a vague memory now, forever burned out of her heart by the fires Brett had ignited. She wanted to go home.
Brett was stunned by the thought that she might simply pack up and leave, and he couldn’t follow her, not now. He was bound to stay in Los Angeles until he found the embezzler, so he’d have to keep Tessa with him. If he let her go now, he was afraid he’d never be able to get her back.
“You can’t leave now,” he said sharply.
Her green eyes widened in fear. “I can’t?”
“I need your help,” he said, improvising rapidly.
She was wary now. “Help doing what?”
“Finding out who framed you,” he said promptly.
“I don’t see how I can help.”
“No one knows that the charges against you have been dropped. The embezzler has to be feeling pretty safe, but if you leave, that could tip him off. He could grab the money and run.”
“He?” Tessa asked, lifting her brows.
“A figure of speech.”
After a minute, she said, “I don’t care if you catch him or not.”
He got to his feet, too, a little angry. “You don’t want to catch the person who almost caused you to go to prison?”
Automatically, she stepped back. “I know I should want a criminal to be caught and punished, but right now I just don’t care. All I want to do now is forget about this…all of this. Everything.”
Including me, he thought furiously. Too bad, because he wasn’t going to let it happen. His navy eyes were narrowed angry slits as he reached out for her, his hands gentle despite his anger. She went stiff at his touch, but didn’t fight him as he eased her into his arms, holding her against him while he stroked her hair. “You’re worn out, and you’ve been through a bad time,” he murmured. “Poor baby, I’ll make it up to you. You don’t have to worry about a thing now; I’ll take care of you.”
“I’m not worn out, and I can take care of myself.” His big body, pressed against her, reminded her too vividly of the times when he’d held her beneath him, making love to her with shattering intensity. Her protest was automatic, and she might have saved her breath for all the attention he paid her.
“I’ve missed holding you,” he said huskily, moving his lips against her temple. “You smell so sweet. Tell me something, honey. Are you pregnant? Are you going to have my baby?”
A bolt of pain shot through her. Was that why he’d dropped the charges? Was all his talk about believing in her innocence just that—talk? “No,” she almost spat, bracing her hands against his stomach and trying to push him away. “No, I’m not. I found out last week.”
He pulled her hands from his stomach and gently forced her arms behind her back, anchoring them there with one big hand. He was aware of disappointment that she wasn’t going to have his baby, but he knew that it was for the best. He didn’t want her to associate the conception of their first child with anything except pleasure, anything except love. She felt so good in his arms, as if part of him had been missing and was now restored. The feel of her firm, round breasts pushing against him made his body stir with arousal, a condition aggravated by the fact that he’d held her naked in his arms all night long, longing to make love to her but knowing that she was exhausted, that she desperately needed sleep.
Tessa could feel what was happening to him, and her throat tightened in mingled fear and remembered ecstasy. The ecstasy was a part of her now, a memory that would never leave her, and she feared him because she was so terribly vulnerable to him. She loved him, and he had hurt her worse than she’d ever imagined she would be hurt. Because she loved him, he could hurt her again, and she had no defenses against him. “Brett, please,” she groaned. “I don’t want that to happen. I can’t handle it, not now. Please.”
“I know,” he reassured her harshly. “I know. I’m not going to do anything except hold you. You know I won’t force you, don’t you?”
“Yes.” The word breathed out of her. In that, she did trust him. Physically, he’d never been anything but tender with her.
He relaxed fractionally, but he still held her tightly to him, and gradually she relaxed, too. After all, she’d slept naked in his arms the night before, and he hadn’t done anything, so she felt safe standing in the kitchen fully clothed.
The doorbell rang, and she jerked out of his arms, whirling around like a small, startled animal. “Easy,” he soothed, frowning at her reaction. “That’s probably Evan. I told him to come by late this afternoon and we’d start work.”
“Why can’t you work in your hotel room?” she demanded, following him into the living room.
“Because I don’t have a hotel room,” he explained easily, and opened the door to Evan.
Tessa had an alarming feeling that was too certain to be classified as a suspicion. Rather, she knew. But their relationship was too tangled and too private for her to pursue the matter with Evan present, which was something Brett had probably been counting on.
Evan greeted her with a friendliness that put her off stride, particularly when Brett rested his arm heavily around her waist and drew her with him to the couch, keeping her by his side as Evan began pulling papers out of his stuffed briefcase. Tessa sat stiffly for a moment, then moved far enough away from Brett that their bodies weren’t touching. Did he think she’d fall for his devoted act? That was all it was, an act, and she wasn’t fool enough to be taken in twice. At her movement, Brett’s head whipped around, and the expression in his eyes was dangerous, but Evan began talking, and Brett had to turn his attention back to the other man.
“I got some interesting information this afternoon,” Evan said with controlled excitement. “The handwriting analysis of the signatur
e on the checks.”
Brett leaned forward, and Evan passed him the report. Quickly Brett scanned it, his brows knitting in concentration.
“What does it say?” Tessa asked, tilting her head in an effort to read it.
“It says, darling, that the signature on the checks is very similar to yours, but that there are enough differences to make a definite decision impossible. However, the person who wrote those checks is almost certainly a female, and that rules out the one person we’ve thought all along was the most likely prospect.”
She frowned at the easy endearment, but was distracted by his last sentence. “Who did you think it was?”
“Sammy Wallace,” Evan said, accepting the report as Brett passed it back to him.
“Impossible,” Tessa said immediately.
“We know that now, but he was the most suspicious. According to you, he has a lot of expensive equipment in his apartment, and it had to be paid for in some way.”
So he’d been using her to get information on her friends, too! She clenched her hands as her anger surged. From being numb, she had gone on an emotional roller-coaster, with her moods swinging from one extreme to the other, as if, now that they had broken free of the control she’d placed on them, they were reacting wildly.
“Sammy has been trying to help me,” she said, and both of them looked startled. “If he has the name or number of the account that was used, he can trace it back to the original entry, the time of day it was made, I think even to the original terminal that was used. But he couldn’t get the account name.”
A black look crossed Brett’s harsh features. “Damn it, I knew someone had been going through the papers in my office!”
She blanched at the thought that she might have gotten Sammy fired. That had been the one thing she had wanted to avoid. “He was only trying to help,” she pointed out, and refrained from adding that Sammy had believed her from the beginning.