Heart of Hurricane (10 page)

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Martin was right, Althea conceded despairingly as she reached for the mascara wand. Ward reminded her of a seething volcano about to erupt. She knew it was only a matter of time before his limited supply of patience ran out, and when that happened there would be another explosive confrontation. Althea shuddered delicately, dread settling over her like a lead cloak. Dear heaven! How she abhorred those emotionally wrenching scenes. There had been so many—too many—in her past, which was precisely why she had been working so hard to revive her social life. She would get the message across to him one way or another. Surely even Ward would not persist if she developed a relationship with another man.

With that goal in mind, Althea had called most of her former escorts and let them know she was back in circulation. Several times, due to her erratic work schedule and long hours, she had had to meet her date at the appointed place, and on a couple of evenings she'd had to cancel at the last minute, but at least she was getting out more. Judy, who had been complaining that Althea was fast becoming a workaholic, had endorsed the plan wholeheartedly, even to the point of arranging this date tonight with one of Dan's pilot friends.

With quick, smooth strokes, Althea applied a dusty-pink lipstick. Tilting her head to one side, she inspected her handiwork and sighed. Discouraging Ward wasn't the only reason she had engaged in this dating marathon. That night in Dallas, after slamming the door in Ward's face, she had spent several long hours confronting her feelings, and what she discovered had frightened her silly. She was falling in love with Ward Kingman. Despite his volatile temper, despite his dominating personality, despite his impatience, his curtness, his playboy reputation, despite all the qualities that made him so unsuitable for her—her heart was slowly, surely, becoming ensnared.

But that doesn't mean you can't do something about it, Althea told her reflection angrily. Somewhere there had to be a man for her, a suitable man, someone easygoing and tender, someone who didn't raise her blood pressure to the boiling point in either anger or passion, someone who wanted the same calm, secure life she craved. If she searched long enough she'd find him, Althea told herself firmly.

With a sigh, she stood up, went to the closet and took a lavender crepe dress from its hanger. She was just stepping into it when the doorbell rang.

"Oh, darn," Althea muttered under her breath as she shimmied the clinging gown up over her hips. "Trust Judy to be early."

Hurriedly she slid the narrow straps up onto her shoulders and reached around for the zipper. She yanked it upward, but when it reached her waist it stuck firm. With an angry groan Althea backed up to the mirror and craned her head around to see while she tried again. She plucked at the snagged material, then tugged on the metal tab, but it wouldn't budge. The doorbell sounded again.

Grinding her teeth, Althea stalked out of the room and headed for the front door. It was pointless to wait for Greg to answer it. With those earphones in his ears he couldn't hear a clap of thunder. Holding the bodice of her dress against her with one hand, she reached out and snatched the door open.

"Come on in, Judy. You can help me with my dr . . ." Althea's words caught in her throat the moment her eyes encountered Ward's.

"Hello, Althea. May I come in?" He was standing there, one arm braced against the door frame, smiling down at her, looking impossibly virile dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a loose-knit blue shirt. Althea felt her whole body spring alive with awareness.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" she stammered ungraciously.

"I was working at home when I discovered that I didn't have the financial report on Litchfield's. I went to the office to get it but it wasn't there, so I assume you have it."

"Oh! Oh, yes, I do. Come in and I'll get it for you." When he stepped inside, Althea closed the door behind him, then turned and started for her room, but she had barely taken two steps when he stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"First I'd better help you with this dress, don't you think?" he murmured in a low, suggestive voice.

Althea gasped and clutched the sagging bodice to her with both hands. In the shock of finding Ward at her door she had forgotten about her dress. Suddenly her body was suffused with heat as a blush spread upward over her shoulders, neck and face, all the way to her hairline. She was painfully aware that her gown was gaping open to her waist in the back, and that Ward was enjoying the view. She could almost feel his eyes burning over her skin.

"Hold still, and I'll have this fixed in a jiffy," he ordered when she tried to pull away.

"No, I . . ."

"Don't be silly. This won't take a second."

Althea was quite sure she could detect a thread of laughter in his voice but, short of making a scene, she had little choice but to do as he said. Already Ward's hand was tucked inside her dress beneath the stuck zipper, the backs of his fingers pressing against her spine just below her waist. Eyes closed, she stood rigid in an agony of embarrassment, her crossed hands clasping the front of the gown to her breasts.

"My, my. You really caught this, didn't you?" Ward commiserated as he bent over to inspect the jammed zipper. "It's a good thing I came along, isn't it?"

His warm, moist breath feathered across Althea's bare back, sending a shiver rippling through her. "I'm sure I would have managed somehow," she said in a choked voice. Whatever he was doing, he was certainly taking his own sweet time about it, she fumed silently. And did he have to rub his hand against her like that?

It seemed to Althea that every nerve ending in her body had sprung into vibrant life. She was acutely, embarrassingly aware of Ward's virile attraction, the tactile pleasure his touch evoked. His nearness was turning her bones to liquid and causing a terrible, fluttery sensation in the pit of her stomach.
If he doesn't hurry and get finished soon, I'm going to . . . Oh! What was he doing?
Althea stiffened and her eyes grew round with shock. She wasn't positive, but she could almost swear she'd felt his lips against her back!

"There. I think that about does it," Ward announced with satisfaction, before she had a chance to protest.

Very slowly he began to ease the zipper upward, and Althea sucked in her breath as she felt his knuckles graze erotically along her spine. His path was unimpeded by a bra, and his touch traced a fiery line from just below her waist to a spot between her shoulder blades. Althea knew she should protest, but she couldn't seem to get the words out.

From somewhere she found the strength to step away from him. When she turned to face him, his brows came down in a frown as he got a good look at the elegant form-fitting gown.

"You're going out." He stated the obvious in an accusing tone that made Althea squirm uncomfortably.

"Yes. Yes, I am."

"Who are you going out with?" he demanded, his scowl growing steadily darker.

Althea's chin tilted. "That isn't any of your business."

"The hell it isn't! Dammit, Althea, you know ..."

Before he could finish the angry statement, Greg came strolling into the room, snapping his fingers in time to the music that was making a direct assault on his eardrums. At the sight of Ward, his eyes lit up and he pulled the earphones from his ears. "Hey! Mr. Kingman! Good to see you," he greeted enthusiastically, extending his hand to the older man. Althea could have kissed him.

"Hi, Greg. How's it going?"

"Great! Man, I gotta thank you for getting me that job. It's really terrific. Those are a great bunch of guys on the rig, and I really like the work." Greg grinned self-consciously. "I'm even learning a few things."

"Good. I'm glad to hear it."

Taking advantage of the interruption, Althca began to edge away. "Mr. Kingman came by to get some papers I have in my briefcase, Greg. Why don't you keep him company while I get them. I'll just be a moment." She avoided looking at Ward as she turned and fled the room.

In her bedroom Althea gave her reflection a quick once-over, then stepped into a pair of silver high-heeled sandals and hurriedly searched through her briefcase for the financial statement Ward wanted. Her fingers had just touched it when the doorbell rang again, and Althea groaned.

As quickly as possible, she gathered up the papers, draped her lightweight shawl over her arm, and headed for the door. When she stepped into the living room she stopped abruptly. Ward was sitting at one end of the sofa with a drink in his hand, while Judy perched on the edge of a cushion at the other end, looking suitably dazed. Completely unaware of the tense undercurrents in the room, Greg slouched in a chair across from them, grinning happily.

Spying Althea, Judy jumped to her feet. "Hi, Al. I just came up to . . ." She waved her hand uncertainly and glanced at Ward. "Well . . . that is . . . Ed's downstairs at our place, and, uh . . . well, we're ready to leave if you are."

Althea stepped forward and both men rose to their feet. "Fine. I'm ready." Not quite meeting his eyes, she handed the papers to Ward. "Here's the Litchfield report. Now, if you'll excuse us, we really must be going." She grabbed Judy's arm and began shepherding her toward the door.

"Althea."

Ward spoke her name softly, but there was no ignoring the command in his voice. Slowly Althea turned to face him, one brow cocked in question. Ward's eyes locked on her possessively. He looked as though he were restraining himself with great difficulty. "We'll continue our talk later," he said in that quiet voice she knew only too well.

"Now," Judy pronounced determinedly the instant the door to the ladies' room closed behind them. "I want to know exactly what's going on between you and Ward Kingman. And don't you dare try any more stalling tactics. We're not leaving this room until you tell me."

Althea groaned silently as she met her friend's militant expression in the mirror. Curiosity had been eating Judy alive ever since Althea had bundled her out of the apartment. It had taken every ounce of ingenuity she possessed to put her off this long. "What makes you think anything is going on?" Althea gave an elaborate shrug and began to run a comb through her tangle-free hair. "He just came by to get some papers. That's all. If he seemed a little put out, it was only because he had some business he wanted to discuss with me."

"Put out!" Judy squeaked. "Oh, come off it, Al. Who are you trying to kid? The man was positively sulfuric! And not because of any silly old business, either. I know jealousy when I see it. He looked as though he wanted to handcuff you to him and throw away the key!"

With a heavy sigh, Althea propped her elbows on the vanity table. "You're right. That's probably exactly what he'd like to do." Her mouth set into a bitter line. "It seems that our boss has earmarked me as his next mistress, and for some reason that completely escapes me, he refuses to take no for an answer."

Judy sucked in her breath. "You mean he's threatening to fire you if you don't—?"

"No, no. Nothing like that," Althea assured her quickly. "It's just that he's so . . . determined. And I don't understand why. The man has his choice of dozens of women. Why me?''

"Aside from the obvious, have you ever considered that maybe he's serious?" Judy asked dryly.

"Oh, come on, Judy. Ward Kingman serious over a woman? You've got to be kidding."

"I know that he's never pursued a woman before. He's never had to. That's got to mean something."

A curious sensation quivered through Althea—part joy, part sheer panic. She felt as though someone had suddenly knocked the wind out of her. "It's probably nothing more than the classic case of wanting what you can't have," she insisted weakly.

"If that's it, all you have to do is let him catch you, then your troubles will be over."

Althea shot her a baleful look. "Thanks heaps. Some friend you are."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I haven't the slightest idea. Try to outlast him, I guess."

"Good luck," Judy drawled. Snapping her purse closed, she stood up. "Something tells me you're going to need it."

Something tells me you're right, Althea concurred silently.

As she followed her friend's waddling figure out of the door, Althea mentally squared her shoulders. She'd be darned if she'd let Ward Kingman spoil this evening for her. To her surprise, especially since he was a friend of Dan Fisher's, her date had turned out to be a very nice man and she was determined to have a good time. Besides, Judy's baby was due in a couple of weeks and this was going to be her last night out on the town for a while.

Ed Simms was a tall, nice-looking man with a pleasant, somewhat serious personality that inspired trust, exactly the type one hoped for in an airline pilot. Althea found that she liked him very much, and with an effort of will she was able to put Ward Kingman out of her mind and enjoy his undemanding company.

After a sumptuous dinner, the four of them talked and danced for hours, staying until the restaurant closed. It was almost two in the morning when they returned home. Tactfully, but not too subtly, Dan and Judy bid them a quick good night and disappeared into their apartment, leaving Althea and Ed alone in the foyer.

"Thank you for a lovely evening, Ed," Althea said politely. "I enjoyed myself very much."

"So did I. Perhaps we can do it again sometime."

"I'd like that."

Ed cast a wistful glance up the stairway, but he seemed to know that Althea had no intention of inviting him up. He looked at her intently for a moment, and she was aware that, given the slightest encouragement, he would kiss her.

"Good night, Ed. And thank you again for a lovely evening," she said, and with a soft smile turned and trudged up the stairs to her apartment.

When she tiptoed inside, the living room was empty but it bore traces of Greg's recent occupancy. His sneakers lay askew in front of the sofa. A large bowl, containing only a few kernels of cold popcorn, sat on the coffee table, along with a crumpled napkin and a tall glass half-filled with melting ice. Smiling, Althea picked it up and wiped away the water ring with the napkin, then walked around the room turning off lamps.

"Have a nice time?"

The soft masculine voice seemed to come at her out of nowhere just as Althea clicked off the last light, and she gave a little cry and jumped. She whirled around, her eyes wide with fright.

A man stood in the kitchen doorway, his shoulder propped nonchalantly against the frame. He was backlighted by the glow spilling out of the kitchen and, although Althea couldn't see his face clearly, she knew it was Ward. For a moment she could only stare at him. "Wh-what are you doing here?" she choked out at last.

"Waiting for you," he said matter-of-factly, as though it was something he did every day. "I told Greg I would."

If anything, Althea's eyes grew even wider. "You can't be serious! I don't need anyone waiting up for me!"

"Don't you? It's two in the morning. Your brother was getting concerned. He went to bed just half an hour ago, and only then because I told him I'd wait for you." Ward strolled toward her, and Althea could hear the smile in his voice as he added softly, "Besides, I told you we'd finish our discussion later."

His audacity stunned her. "There is nothing to discuss," Althea said stiffly, holding on to her anger by a mere thread. "I told you, who I go out with is none of your business."

He stopped just inches from her and smiled tenderly. "But really, Althea, a blind date. What's the matter, sweetheart? You running scared?"

So that was why he was no longer angry. He thought it amusing that she had resorted to a blind date. Leave it to my baby brother to blab, Althea thought angrily, grinding her teeth in vexation. She was going to have to talk with that boy, first thing in the morning.

"Edward Simms is a friend of Judy and Dan Fisher's. I went out with him as a favor to them," she replied tautly, then immediately wanted to kick herself for explaining anything. "And for your information," she added icily, "he is a very nice man and I enjoyed his company very much."

"But you didn't let him kiss you good night. I know. I was watching." The smile left Ward's face and his eyes narrowed dangerously. "I think if he'd tried, I would have shoved his face in."

Althea gasped. "You-can't-be-serious." The words came out in a slow, breathless staccato. "You . . . you spied on me?"

Ward's hand curved around the side of her neck, drawing her closer. His low, husky voice poured over her like warm honey. "Where you're concerned, I find myself doing a lot of things I never dreamed I'd do. You're like a fever in my blood, and you're driving me crazy.''

"You actually spied on me," Althea repeated, as though she hadn't heard him, slowly moving her head from side to side. She felt as though her chest were caught in a tightening vise that was gradually squeezing the life out of her. He was doing the very thing she feared most, dominating her, taking control of her life, and she didn't know how to stop him. Even the attraction she felt for him, which she could not deny, was a threat, a weapon he could use to make her weak and vulnerable. Panic and anger roiled up inside Althea until she thought she would explode. "You have no right, do you hear me! No right!"

"Don't talk to me about rights, Althea. You have no right to turn my life upside down. No right to make me so crazy with wanting you that I can't sleep, or eat or think of anything but you." His eyes roamed hungrily over her stricken face, then hardened with determination. "And you have no right to deny what is between us. You're mine, and I mean to have you."

It was exactly the wrong thing to say. In an instant all of Althea's carefully cultivated control snapped like a frayed thread. All the suppressed feelings, all the resentment of years came surging up in a hot rush of emotion, and before she could think, she drew back and slapped him with all her might. The crack of her open palm against his cheek sounded like a gunshot.

For a stunned moment they simply stared at each other. Ward's tanned cheek bore the white imprint of her hand, but as Althea watched with horror-stricken eyes it turned a deep, angry red, and slowly the enormity of what she'd done began to penetrate.

"Oh, my God!" Althea's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, my God!" she cried again in an appalled voice that wasn't much more than a whisper. Her eyes were huge in her ashen face.

Slowly Althea's head began to move from side to side, and she began to back away, her mouth trembling. Her stomach was churning with nausea. She couldn't believe that she had actually hit him!

The stunned look on Ward's face changed to concern as he witnessed her growing agitation, but when he reached out to comfort her, she gave an anguished cry and spun away.

"Althea, come back!"

Vaguely Althea heard him calling her, heard his heavy footsteps pounding across the oak floor, but she didn't stop. Reaching the sanctuary of her bedroom, she slammed the door behind her and locked it, then leaned back against the heavy wooden panel, one balled fist pressed against her mouth, the other against her abdomen. The very idea that she was capable of such violence chilled her to the bone.

Fists pounded on the door and Althea jumped and spun around. She stared at it with frightened eyes and backed away.

"Althea, sweetheart, I'm sorry," Ward called through the door. "I didn't mean to upset you." The doorknob rattled. "Open the door, darling, and we'll talk about this calmly. I promise."

"Go away! Just go away!" Althea's retreat ended when the backs of her legs came into contact with the bed. Sinking down on its edge, she bit her lower lip and stared at the door. She was shaking like a leaf.

"Althea, say something," Ward pleaded.

"What's going on out here?"

At the sound of Greg's voice Althea lay down on the bed and curled into a tight ball. With a hand pressed against her mouth, she stared across the room at the lace curtains with dry, unblinking eyes. Outside the door she could hear the murmur of masculine voices, but she made no effort to listen to their conversation. At that moment she didn't care. So long as they left her alone.

She had always prided herself on her composure, on her ability to remain calm and unruffled, no matter what the provocation. So what had happened to that composure tonight? A shudder shook Althea as she recalled that scene in the living room. Ward Kingman happened to you, that's what. If she had needed any convincing that she and Ward did not belong together, she had gotten it tonight. She had screamed at him like a fishwife and he had thundered right back . . . e
xactly the way her aunt and uncle had always done.
And even worse, like Bill Holland, she had resorted to physical violence. Closing her eyes, Althea moaned. The very thought made her sick to her stomach.

Ward Kingman was the only person who had ever been able to provoke that kind of reaction in her, which was exactly why she couldn't afford to become involved with him, not even temporarily. And of course, a brief affair was all Ward wanted. It was all he ever wanted from a woman. Althea knew that and accepted it. And in all honesty, there was a part of her that longed to have him on any terms.

But she couldn't. As exciting as his kisses were, as much as she longed for the right to touch him, to be with him, to be a part of his life, there was no denying that she and Ward were a combustible mixture. The very thought of spending even a small portion of her life in a state of constant emotional upheaval was abhorrent. She simply couldn't do it.