Passion's Price Read online

  "Well, Laine, your tan gives you a nice healthy glow," Thornton commented at last, adjusting the collar of his short-sleeved knit shirt as if he didn't know what to do with one that didn't have a tie beneath it. At last, his hands dropped down to rest on the arms of the chair and he nodded as he continued to look at his daughter. "Yes, you look well. Didn't I tell you a vacation would do you good? It's amazing how revitalizing sunshine and fresh air and exercise can be." When neither she nor Nick had a response to such an obviously correct statement, Thornton attempted another smile. "Well, I was just out for a drive and decided I might as well come to St. Simons. Hope you don't mind my dropping in, Nick."

  "Certainly not. You're welcome anytime," Nick replied, apparently not the least disconcerted by the transparency of the older man's excuse, or by the surprise visit.

  Seated on the sofa again, he turned to smile gently at Laine. "Perhaps your father would like something cool to drink after his drive. It's a bit early, but it's a hot day. Why don't you make us both a whiskey sour." He turned back to Thornton. "I've discovered Laine makes a terrific whiskey sour. She even remembers to leave out those god-awful cherries."

  Though the compliment had been genuine, Thornton chuckled knowingly. "I see you've trained her right," he said with excessive jocularity. "Not all houseguests are willing to fetch and carry."

  Though Laine tensed and was on the verge of making some retort until Nick caught her eye, his understanding smile coaxed one to her lips and she even managed to include her father in it. Within seconds she was grateful he had prevented her saying anything. Most of her adult life she had refused to let her father make her lose her temper. And she wasn't going to allow him to upset her unduly now, simply because he had arrived unexpectedly.

  For the next thirty minutes or so Laine was on pins and needles. Every time her father opened his mouth, she expected him to mention the grant, and since the grant was such a source of friction between Nick and her, she wasn't exactly thrilled that her father would undoubtedly bring it up. Wishing he hadn't come, she sipped her white wine and said little. Sitting on the sofa, beside but not too close to Nick, her feet tucked up beside her on the cushion, she merely listened as the men discussed a variety of topics.

  As it happened, it was Nick himself who brought up the subject of the grant, following a short lull in the conversation. Relaxed on the sofa, long tanned legs stretched out in front of him, he took a swallow of the amber liquid in the cut-glass tumbler. "Tell me, Thornton, have the auditors finished at Latham yet?"

  The older man masked the flicker of disappointment in his expression almost immediately as he placed his glass on a coaster. "Actually, they finished Tuesday. I thought you might have their statement by now."

  "They're to send it to my Atlanta office," Nick explained. "I imagine it will be there waiting when I return week after next. But I doubt I'll be able to examine it right away."

  When her father only nodded, saying nothing, she felt a keen stab of compassion for him. She wished Nick could ease his worries right now but she knew Nick better than that. He was a thorough man, and after calling auditors in he would make no decision until he had seen their statement. He had no real way of knowing that Thornton Winthrop was an excellent administrator and that Latham College was an efficient, well-run institution. He could rely only on facts and figures, plus his own personal instincts. And all the evidence was not in yet. She couldn't help wishing, though, that for her father's sake she could snap her fingers and make the grant theirs.

  About ten minutes later Thornton made excuses to leave. Rising to his feet, he shook Nick's hand again and turned to Laine. To her surprise, he put an arm around her and kissed her cheek. And although the brief, unaccustomed embrace had been somewhat clumsily executed, she smiled up at him after kissing him back. He simply nodded in response, not unusual for him. "Nick's right. You make a fine whiskey sour, Laine. A very refreshing drink for a hot day like this." He walked out onto the deck, then turned back for an instant. "You'll be home Sunday. Right?"

  "Yes, Sunday," she called after him. "Good-bye, Father."

  Then he was gone. Breathing a deep sigh, Laine walked back to the sofa where Nick had taken his seat again.

  Sitting down, legs tucked up beside her, on the rug at his feet, she leaned her head against his knee. "I have to apologize for Father," she said softly. "I've never seen him this way. Usually he has incredible patience when a decision's being made that will affect Latham. But with this grant, he's too anxious to wait patiently."

  "I'm surprised you didn't set his mind at ease," was Nick's icy response. "Why didn't you tell him you'd already sacrificed your virginity for the cause? That might have reassured him."

  With the graceful swiftness of a gazelle, Laine sprang to her feet, but before she could take more than two steps, Nick caught her by the wrist, jerking her back down onto her knees on the rug before him. "Where do you think you're going?"

  "Home," she retorted, trying in vain to twist her wrist free of a viselike grip. Resentment flushed her cheeks and flashed in her eyes, and she was nearly overcome with a sudden desire to flail at him with her fists. She didn't dare, and it wasn't only an inherent revulsion to violence that prevented her. Yet her defensive anger was unabated. In fact, it flared to impotent fury when he hauled her closer and leaned forward on the sofa until his breath was fanning her cheeks. "Let me go!" she exclaimed softly. "I want to leave! I'm sick and tired of your accusations and I won't stay here and listen to any more of them. If you can really believe I would…"

  "The way you acted just now while he was here didn't help me believe otherwise," Nick interrupted, his voice deceptively calm. As aqua eyes, blazing with defiance, met his frigid green stare, his hands slipped up to grip her upper arms, fingers pressing into her flesh. His expression hardened. "You should have seen yourself, Laine. You were jumpy as a cat. As if you were afraid he might scold you for not playing your part. Why let him intimidate you when you know he must realize exactly what kind of relationship you and I now have? He's not stupid. He has to know we're sharing a bed."

  "Father's blinded himself to the truth in this entire situation. He's probably convinced himself I'm here 'fetching and carrying,' as he said, and simply being nice to you."

  "Surely he knows you'd do much more than that in an attempt to please him?"

  "But I wouldn't! You're absolutely wrong about that." Her voice fell, her tone became less angry, more urgent. "Nick, for God's sake, why do you go on and on about my relationship with Father? I'm not obsessed with pleasing him. In fact, I know I usually can't, so I certainly wouldn't sacrifice anything in an attempt."

  "I know you'd like to believe that, but…"

  "If what I'm saying isn't true, then why did Father come here today to learn something about the grant? Why should he have had to? Surely, as soon as I'd traded myself for the million dollars, wouldn't I have called him and told him he had nothing to worry about?" She was nearly shouting at him now, but she didn't care. "If I'm so anxious for his approval, then why didn't I call him? Why is he still concerned about the grant? And there's something else." Her tone dropped to a lower, more reasonable level. "He might believe I can influence your decision, but I don't. I don't think anything or anyone could keep you from making the decision you thought was truly right." For an instant she imagined she saw something like confusion flit over his lean dark face, but then it vanished and she was no longer certain what she had seen. Anger drained away, leaving her empty and miserable. Unable to look directly at him any longer, she riveted her gaze on smooth hard shoulders and neck, wishing she dared tell him she loved him. But it all seemed so hopeless. No matter how she tried, she couldn't convince him that she wasn't prostituting herself for the grant. And since he believed she was capable of doing that, there was little chance he could ever feel real affection and respect for her, much less love. Yet if there was even the slightest chance… She lifted her head to gaze up at him, unaware that her darkening eyes mirrored all h
er confusion, her vulnerability.

  "Dammit, Laine, you're driving me crazy," he groaned, pulling her up into the tightening circle of strong arms, crushing her against him. His lips took the parted softness of hers with savage force, then gentled with persuasive demand when she arched closer and wound her arms around his waist. "Temptress. Sweet little temptress," he whispered into the opening flower of her mouth. "You know how to make me forget everything, and I can never resist the temptation."

  She couldn't resist either. His lips, plundering the sweetness of her mouth, were arousing passions in her that soon equaled his. But that was the way it was. Although he didn't trust her and she knew staying with him now would only sharpen the pain she'd feel when the relationship ended, they didn't seem able to walk away from each other. It was a fascination that wouldn't last forever, at least not for him, and Laine knew that. But simply being with him now made it far too easy for her to forget the way it would end.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The days slipped by too quickly. Dread mounted in Laine when she thought ahead to the coming week. She had no idea if she would ever see Nick again after their vacation ended. If their involvement had meant no more to him than a mere holiday fling… It made her feel almost physically ill to even consider that very real possibility. Since she had never been one to live only for the present, she also began to wonder if she would have regrets. Would she be terribly sorry she had given heart and soul for two brief weeks of happiness? Right now she regretted nothing. But right now she was still with Nick, she reminded herself as she lay beside him on the beach late Wednesday morning.

  Propping on one elbow, she gazed down at him. He was asleep. His firmly carved lips were slightly parted and the thick fringe of his dark lashes lay against brown skin. She had to suppress a desire to brush back the lock of hair that fell forward across his forehead. Free to survey him as closely as she wanted, she allowed her gaze to drift over the broad muscular chest and flat abdomen, down along the wholly masculine lines of long powerful legs. She took a deep shuddering breath. She could hardly believe all that had happened in such a short space of time. Nick had awakened the most feverish desires in her, and she had responded to him with an abandon she would have never have believed herself capable of. How was she supposed to forget what they had shared? She didn't think she would ever forget one single moment of her time with him and could only hope her memories wouldn't become so much a part of her life that she would begin to live in the past. She did have a future. She really did, she repeatedly told herself. She might even meet another man she could love as much as she loved Nick. But she seriously doubted that, and as he stirred beside her on the blanket, she laid back down and hastily brushed away the fat teardrop that had been captured in her lower lashes. And when Nick lifted himself up onto his elbows and looked down at her, she smiled lazily at him, as if she, too, had been peacefully asleep.

  It was during lunch that the phone call came. Nick was gone from the table almost fifteen minutes, and since Laine could hear only the deep rumble of his muffled voice from the study adjacent the great room, she had no idea what the call might be about. Her curiosity was piqued, however, and when Nick returned to the dining room somewhat later, she smiled questioningly.

  "Laine, I'm sorry," he began ominously, both his expression and his tone grim. "I have to fly to Pittsburgh this afternoon for at least a couple of days."

  Her heart seemed to plummet to her stomach and she clenched her hands together in her lap as her smile slowly faded. "I see," she finally managed to say, though it was devastating to know the end had come so early and so completely without warning. "Wh-what time do you have to leave?"

  He was watching her closely. "As soon as possible. But I'll be flying up in my own plane, so I won't have to wait for an available commercial flight."

  "Oh, I didn't know you had a plane," she said rather woodenly, lacking anything better to say. "You didn't tell me that."

  "No… I guess I just never thought of it. But that's not important now." Coming around the table, he crouched down beside her chair, reaching out to brush a tendril of sun-silvered hair back from her temple. "Laine, I'd like to take you with me, but I don't think that would be wise." He gave her an endearing smile. "You're far too intriguing, love, and I don't seem able to keep my mind, not to mention my hands, off you for very long. If I decide to accept this case, my client's going to need all the energy and concentration I can manage from the very beginning. He's been accused of more than one murder, and what he doesn't need is a lawyer whose attention's divided."

  An answering smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "I understand," she told him, and she did. Especially with such serious charges hanging over him, this client would need Nick's total commitment. Pushing her own disappointment aside, she slipped her hand into Nick's and moved her chair back to stand. "Come on. I'll help you pack. After you're on your way, I'll pack my own things and drive home before dark."

  Dark narrowing eyes swept over her as he shook his head. "I expect you to stay here," he said, almost if it were more a command than a request. But as he cupped her face in his hands, the brushing strokes of his thumbs over her cheeks were gently coaxing. "I should only be gone a couple of days, and you're still on vacation. Why don't you just relax while I'm gone? Enjoy the beach. Play with Greta. You wouldn't feel uneasy being here alone, would you?"

  "Oh, not at all." She moved one hand in an indecisive gesture, knowing it would be wise to leave. Yet she was so very tempted to remain. After only a few seconds emotion overcame logic and she nodded up at him. "Okay, I think I would like to stay."

  Though he nodded and gave her a slight approving smile, she could see that his thoughts were drifting away— to the prospective client in Pittsburgh, she imagined. They talked little as she folded shirts neatly into his brown leather suitcase and he put two suits into a zippered travel bag. Then the packing was done and they waited from the bedroom, Laine's heart sinking little by little down to her stomach as she began to realize he would be gone a couple of days. She would miss him—there was no point in denying it. It was disconcerting to know she had become so accustomed to his company that she dreaded the prospect of time spent without him. It was a feeling she had to quickly lose; she knew that too. Next week she would be back at Latham, alone, and she had no assurance that she would see him often—or ever—after that. The mere thought sent a stab of pain through her heart. She hastily thrust it aside as she watched Nick lay the travel bag over the back of the sofa then walk into his study. He returned with a briefcase which he placed with his luggage.

  Slender and lightly tanned, shapely in a light blue tank-top and cutoff jeans, Laine stood in front of him, looked down at her bare feet for an instant, then back up at him. It took all the effort she could muster to try to smile nonchalantly.

  Nick's answering smile had a pensive quality to it. "I'll try to be back by Friday afternoon." He glanced at the thin gold watch on his wrist. "I'm going now."

  She nodded. "Do you want me to drive you to the airport so you won't have to leave your car there?"

  "That's all right. It'll be safe in the lot. I always leave it."

  "This plane of yours… is it very small?"

  "Six passenger. Why do you ask?"

  "Oh, it's just that those little planes always look so fragile to me." Gazing up at him, nibbling her lower lip, and allowing a faint frown to touch her brow, she added impulsively, "You will be careful, won't you?"

  An amused glimmer in his narrowed green eyes accompanied a now mischievous smile. "I didn't plan to do any barnstorming on the way."

  "I didn't imagine you would," she replied pertly. "I just know that you're anxious to get to Pittsburgh, but don't forget to check the weather forecast and to file a flight plan."

  "You sound like a mother," he accused lightly, reaching out with both hands to pull her to him, drawing her arms up around his neck. His lips sought the scented hollow beneath the delicate curve of her left ear as long strong
fingers slipped through her hair. "But it's not mothering I want from you, Laine."

  A shiver of delight trickled down her spine as the tip of his tongue probed sensitized skin, but she asked very seriously, "What do you want, Nick?"

  "Much more than I can have right now," was his less serious answer. Tilting her chin up with his thumb, tightening his arm around her narrow waist, he brought her close against him and lowered his head. Firm demanding lips swiftly took the tender curve of hers. With a murmur, she stretched up on tiptoe, delighting in the hard line of his solid frame, to which her softer contours yielded. His kiss lengthened, deepened, scorching her with powerful intensity. He would release her mouth only to cover it with his again. And again… until the blazing flame of their mutual need threatened to consume them.

  Curiously unsteady hands spanned her waist, and he put her away from him. As his gaze swept over her upturned face, green fires of desire glinted in his eyes. If only she could see love as well as desire there, she thought with sudden aching desperation. Then she thrust that futile thought aside to whisper with deliberate provocation, "Sure you wouldn't rather stay here with me?"

  "Vixen," he whispered back, his slight smile a mystery as he released her and proceeded to gather up the gear for his trip. With his hands full, he effectively prevented himself from taking her in his arms again, but he did lean down to brush a lingering kiss of good-bye across her lips.