No Red Roses

"On the condition that you'll allow me to return them when the tour is over," she agreed hesitantly, wondering at how boyishly pleased he looked at his triumph.

  "Well see," he said evasively. "You're sure you won't take the necklace?"

  "No, I will not take the necklace," she said firmly, then chuckled helplessly. "Do you realize how totally ridiculous this is? I'm actually tying in a bathtub fully dressed, arguing with you about a dumb necklace."

  "It's a very pretty necklace," he defended. Releas­ing one of her wrists, he groped on the bottom of the tub and triumphantly brought up the glittering piece of jewelry. "If you won't keep it, you can at least let me see how it looks on you."

  Without waiting for an answer he sat up in the tub, bringing her with him, and swiftly slipped the necklace over her head. It was surprisingly heavy as it lay in the hollow of her breasts and she looked down at it curiously. Her eyes widened with embar­rassment and the color flew to her cheeks. Her breasts might just as well have been naked. Her wet peach silk blouse was clinging lovingly to every curve, and the necklace drew immediate attention to the taut sauciness of her nipples boldly outlined beneath the material.

  Rex drew in his breath sharply, and her gaze flew to his face. What she saw there caused her own breath to catch in her throat. His eyes were fixed on the wet, clinging blouse and when he murmured hoarsely, "Damn, that's lovely," she knew he wasn't referring to the necklace.

  From playful raillery, the moment had changed to one of unbearable intimacy. Tamara could almost touch the current of electricity that was flowing be­tween them and generating a melting languor in her limbs. For the first time since she had marched through the bathroom door, she was fully conscious of Rex's nudity, of the hard, corded strength of his bronze, virile body that was so different from the satin softness of her own. That he was also experi­encing that same violent awareness was evident in the smoky heat of his eyes and the pulse now pound­ing rapidly in the hollow of his throat.

  "No," she whispered dazedly, pulling her gaze by force from that telltale throbbing, knowing her rejec­tion was not aimed at him so much as her own treacherous body.

  "Oh yes, sweetheart," Rex breathed raggedly. "Definitely yes!" He drew her slowly and carefully into his arms and she gave a little gasp as the warm hardness of his body seemed to sear through her wet clothing as if it were no barrier at all. She felt his body tremble in response as he pressed her head into the rough thatch of hair on his chest. "We'll have to take it easy, babe." He groaned. "I want you so badly I'm like a kid with his first woman."

  She didn't answer, suspended in a sensual eupho­ria that consisted of the touch of warm, strong mus­cles and the rough abrasiveness of the springy hair beneath her cheek. His scent surrounded her and she vaguely identified the piney fragrance of soap and the hot musky odor of the aroused male. The combination was wildly erotic and she suddenly had an irresistible desire to indulge one other sense. Her tongue ventured hesitantly to explore the smooth, corded skin and discovered it was faintly salty. The combination of the taste and the tingling sensation on the tip of her tongue at the contact with his hard flesh was breathlessly exciting. She turned her head, rubbing her cheek against his chest like a playful, sensual kitten as her tongue darted out to stroke teasingly at one hard male nipple.

  "Lord!" Rex groaned again, and she felt an almost savage satisfaction at the responsive shudder that shook his body. Then she couldn't think at all as his arms tightened with steely urgency around her, and his mouth swooped down to cover hers in a kiss that wooed and coaxed and tantalized until her lips parted with eager invitation to the invasion of his tongue. She could never remember later how long he explored her lips and tongue in an endless num­ber of hot, breathless joinings. She only knew that with every kiss the aching emptiness of her loins intensified and her blood seemed to run molten fire in her veins, bringing every inch of her flesh to sensitized, vibrant life.

  She realized dimly that they were both on their knees now and Rex's usually deft hands were oddly clumsy on the buttons of her blouse. His lips moved from her mouth to her ear and his teeth and tongue alternately nibbled and stroked the lobe. He was murmuring an erotic litany of need and desire, caus­ing such a tumult of sensation within her that she felt strangely weak. She clutched at his strong, naked shoulders as if he were the only rock in a reeling universe. Then the last button was overcome and Rex gently pushed her away to slide the silky mate­rial and the flimsy bra beneath it down her arms. He impatiently tossed them over the edge of the tub before feverishly gathering her back to him. The coarse pelt of hair rubbed against her sensitive nipples, engorging them in seconds.

  "You are the softest woman!" he growled, as his hands ran up and down her naked back, massaging and exploring the graceful line of her spine. "You're all satin and silk and textures." His hands were on her hair now, removing the pins that held her bun in place, and then he threaded his fingers through it as it tumbled down her back in a silken veil. "I love the feel of you. Just the way your hair flows between my fingers turns me on."

  He pushed her away so that she was leaning against the side of the tub and he caught his breath. His eyes were glazed with passion as they fixed on her full, firm breasts, the dusky pink nipples taut and yearning beneath the barbaric collar of amethysts and diamonds. "I once saw a mural of a long dead Egyptian princess on the wall of a tomb outside Cairo, and I remember thinking she had the most beautiful breasts I'd ever seen." He reached out to cup the warm tempting mounds in gentle hands. "But yours are far lovelier, and you're very much alive.'

  Alive? The term was a massive understatement, she thought dazedly, as Rex's head bent slowly and he brushed his lips caressingly across the swelling rise of her breasts, leaving a streak of flaming need in their wake. She'd never been so vividly alive in her entire life! Every breath she drew seemed to create new tendrils of sensation, and then his lips moved down to nibble gently at one aching nipple. She made a whimpering sound deep in her throat before she buried her fingers in his crisp dark hair, holding him to her. The cry seemed to excite him un­bearably for his hands tightened almost painfully on her breasts. His teeth and tongue worked wildly on the sensitive nipples until she was moaning and writhing beneath him in delicious torment.

  "Oh Lord, sweetheart. I'm starving for you." Rex groaned and lifted his head. His lips covered hers with a bruising passion that took her breath away and she was only dimly aware of his movements as he manipulated both their bodies until they were once more lying facing each other. One strong mus­cular leg slid intimately between her own, making her feel open and vulnerable to attack, and Rex's hands were working deftly at the side fastening of her pants.

  When his lips reluctantly left hers for a brief moment, Tamara drew a shaky breath, trying to remember exactly how they'd reached this point. The sudden, physical shock she felt when his hand slid into the front of her pants to caress the curve of her belly brought her to the dreamy realization of the burgeoning of final intimacies. She was so lost, though, in the web of undeniable desire that he'd woven about her that she was almost mindless.

  "What are you doing?" she asked hazily, not really caring as long as he kept performing this physical magic that was entrancing her.

  He looked up, his warm, loving smile wonderfully reassuring. "I'm trying to get you out of these clothes before I go crazy. I promise I’ll make it up to you later, but I've got to get inside you now, sweetheart!"

  She supposed his frankness should have shocked her, but instead it only served to evoke a mental picture that caused a melting in every muscle of her body. She gazed around her, startled to find they were still in the tub. "But we can't," she protested. "Not here."

  "Sure we can," Rex said thickly, as his hand moved around to knead her buttocks with a sensuous rhythm that was both titillating and soothing. "You haven't lived until you've made love in the water. Don't worry, I won't let you drown. There's plenty of room in this tub."

  Without waiting for her to reply he lowered his li
ps to nibble gently at her shoulder, not noticing the sudden stiffening of her body at his words. The casualty knowledgeable manner in which he'd uttered that last sentence indicated a wealth of experience that chilled her as surety as if she'd been doused in a pool of ice water. The thought of Rex making love to other women in this very tub made her feel cheap and slightly sick to have been swayed by his sensual magnetism. How could she have been such a fool, she wondered miserably. Then a saving anger surged through her as she remembered how easily he had manipulated her mind and emotions as well as her ' untrustworthy body.

  She tore away from his hold, catching him off guard. As he lifted his head, he caught one glimpse of Tamara's angry white face and blazing eyes before she placed both hands on the top of his head and pushed down with all her strength. He slid underwa­ter like a rock, and Tamara received a distinct plea­sure out of keeping him there an instant before releasing him.

  Rex came up coughing and sputtering, his dark hair plastered to his head, his eyes streaming with irritation from the soapy water. Tamara had already levered herself out of the tub and was jerkily putting on her blouse when his vision cleared enough for him to see what she was doing. "What the hell was that all about?" he roared.

  "I thought you needed to cool off," she said tartly, as she finished buttoning her blouse. She unfast­ened the necklace and dropped it disdainfully on the floor. "You'd better take this back. You may need it for the next idiotic woman you lure into this sultan's pool of yours." She lifted her chin haughtily. "And I'll be more than delighted to accept that wardrobe if it will help prevent some other poor simpleton from being taken in by that little-boy charm!" Ignoring both his flushed angry expression and his furious bellow of "Tamara!" she stalked from the bathroom. Her majestic exit was marred by the fact that one of her high-heeled sandals still lay on the bottom of Rex's bathtub, forcing her to limp rather ignominiously.

  She was so angry she didn't realize just what an incongruous picture she presented until she passed through the living room on the way to her room.

  Scotty Oliver looked up from the magazine he was casually perusing, and his mouth dropped open. He shot up from the couch where he'd been sitting, and his eyes widened as they took in her dripping wet form, shoeless foot, and long dark hair flying wildly about her furious face.

  "What the hell happened to you?"

  She paused at the door of her room to cast him a glance of infinite dislike. "I decided not to strangle your friend Brody after all," she said icily. "I drowned him instead!" She slammed the door behind her.

  Oliver stared blankly at the closed door for a mo­ment before he muttered a panicky curse and bolted for Rex's bedroom.

  Six

  An hour later, Tamara gazed into the full-length mirror with grim satisfaction. Rex had specified he wanted a glamorous companion as a deterrent—well, she'd sure provided what he'd asked for! The sleeve­less gown she'd chosen was of a fine white French wool whose unusual texture appeared richer than satin. The gown was utterly simple, with a low, round neckline revealing the lush beauty of her cleavage. The bodice was loosely bloused and then cinched at the waist with a narrow braided belt of the same material, and the long, narrow skirt was very flattering to the lovely line of her hips and thighs. In contrast to the simple elegance of the gown, she'd chosen a wrap as barbarically luxurious as any woman could wish. Exquisitely worked silver and gold embroidery played over a field of cerulean blue. The wide, stand-up collar of the wrap formed a breathtaking frame for her face and enhanced the violet of her eyes. She'd brushed her dark hair to a glossy, silken veil and applied a touch of pink lip gloss and a trace of blue shadow to her lids.

  She wouldn't have been human if she hadn't been pleased at the difference the beautiful ensemble made in her appearance, and that pleasure helped to allevi­ate partially the resentment she was feeling both at herself and Rex. The first flush of anger had grad­ually faded, but she was still filled with an odd hurt mixed with a distinct coolness toward him that she recognized as a bit unreasonable. He'd been per­fectly honest about his intentions of luring her into an affair with him, and if she hadn't been so foolish as to be swayed by that potent sex appeal, the episode in his bath would never have occurred. He'd said he wouldn't take her until she was willing, and oddly she had complete trust in his word. She didn't like to admit even to herself how close Rex had already come to reaching his objective. No one could have been more willing than she before he had dropped that remark that shocked her to her senses.

  She was a little amazed, though, that the realiza­tion that she was just one of a long line of women attracted to the dark fascination of Rex Brody had goaded her into such physical violence. She was discovering new and not altogether pleasant facets of her character since he had appeared in her life. She would never have believed a week ago anyone could so shake her cool control!

  Well, she might not have to worry about resisting his future advances. Not many men would still find a woman attractive after she'd not only rejected his lovemaking at a very sensitive point, but had physi­cally humiliated him as well. She'd better prepare herself for a summary dismissal from his life.

  Promptly at six there was a brisk knock on her bedroom door and she opened it, bracing herself instinctively for the cold anger she was sure would be waiting her.

  Rex's eyes widened as he took in her dazzling beauty. "Lord, you're gorgeous in that!" he said huskily. His coal dark eyes twinkled mischievously.

  "Would you accuse me of relegating you to the past again if I tell you that Esther must have looked like you when she first appeared before King Ahasuerus?"

  Tamara shook her head. "Actually, I find the bibli­cal reference quite appropriate coming from a man who probably has had as many women as Solomon," she replied tartly. She was experiencing a queer, breathless relief as she detected in Rex no trace of the anger or coldness she'd expected. The realization sent a jolt of panicky dismay through her that immediately brought her guard up.

  "Ouch!" Rex said, grimacing. "I don't know if I should be flattered at your assumption of my sexual prowess or insulted you think me so lacking in discrimination. I might remind you that though Solo­mon had hundreds of women, there was only one Sheba for him." He grinned boyishly. "While we're speaking of biblical references, that was quite a bap­tism you gave me earlier."

  She searched his face but could see nothing but a wry amusement. "You deserved it," she said belligerently. Then, unable to contain her curiosity, added, "Why aren't you angry with me?"

  "Believe me, sweetheart, I was furious when you marched out of that bathroom," he said. "But then I realized what had turned you off and I admit to feeling pleased."

  "Pleased?"

  He nodded. "Yep, I realized I'd evidently made more progress with you than I'd thought if you were show­ing signs of jealousy."

  "Jealousy?" Tamara sputtered, indignant. "Rex Brody, I was not—"

  "Scotty is waiting downstairs in the car," he inter­rupted soothingly, taking her arm and drawing her from the room. "Well talk about it later, babe." ' But once they were in the limousine Scotty Oliver, looking surprisingly elegant in dark evening clothes, immediately engaged Rex in a business discussion that lasted the entire trip to Carnegie Hall. It wasn't until they'd entered the stage door and Rex was about to go to his dressing room that either man again acknowledged her presence.

  "I've arranged for Miss Ledford to have a house seat in the third row," Oliver said briskly. "Ill have an usher escort her out front while you check with the orchestra about that change in the arrangement you mentioned."

  Rex shook his head. "I don't want her out front," he said flatly. "I want her in the wings where I can see her. Get her a stool and put her someplace where she won't get run over."

  Oliver muttered something under his breath, cast­ing Tamara a look of annoyance. "For pete's sake, Rex, she'll just get in the way," he exploded. "Let her sit in the audience and I’ll have her brought back­stage after the performance."

&nb
sp; Rex's lips tightened and his midnight dark eyes turned flint hard. "I want her in the wings," he repeated distinctly. "And I want you to take care of her, Scotty." Without waiting for an answer he turned and strode rapidly down the corridor, leaving a very disgruntled Scotty Oliver gazing after him.

  "If you’ll just show me where to sit, you can go about your business, Mr. Oliver," Tamara said stiffly. "I assure you I don't want or need either your care or your company."

  Taking her by the arm, he propelled her swiftly down the hall. "You heard him," he said tersely, a black scowl on his face. "I'm supposed to watch out for you. I know better than to argue with Rex when he's in this mood." He shot her a bitter, sidelong glance. "You may think you have him as tame as a pussy cat, but you're in for a surprise, Miss Ledford. I've known Rex since he was a tough street kid and that easygoing facade is very deceptive. Beneath it you’ll find a layer of pure steel."

  Pussy cat? Tamara almost laughed in his face. Of all the facets of his character that Rex had shown her in the past few days, she'd seen no signs of the indulgent tameness Oliver mentioned. Even in his gentler moods, he had the sheathed menace of a playful tiger cub.

  "You needn't worry about my underestimating your client," Tamara said dryly. "I assure you I know exactly how tough that street kid can be."

  They'd reached the wings of the stage now and Oliver set about finding the required stool for Ta­mara as well as one for himself. It appeared he had been quite serious about obeying Rex's injunction to take care of her. Tamara was interested in spite of herself in the whirlwind of activity that was tak­ing place backstage. There seemed to be an incredi­ble number of technicians and sound men bustling about, as well as a full orchestra tuning up their instruments onstage.

  "There seem to be quite a few people involved in his one-man show," she remarked, as Oliver settled his impressive bulk on the stool next to her.

  He gave the scurrying technicians a cursory glance. "It's expected that we provide a little window dressing," he said with a shrug. "But none of it will matter once Rex walks onstage. The audience won't notice anything but him."