Window on Today Page 6

  Karla’s eyes popped open and her lips curved into a frown as she tried to recall precisely what Jared had said about the disputed painting that had precipitated their first meeting. His exact phrasing eluded her—she was too sleepy to concentrate—but it had had something to do with the painting being a portrait of his grandfather. Now, what... ?

  Karla lost the battle; unconsciousness claimed her.

  * * * *

  The next morning she overslept, and as Karla rarely overslept, she felt rushed and not quite organized. She didn’t like the feeling and so, of course, she blamed Jared.

  It was all his fault, she fumed, striding to the rear exit of the gallery after parking her car in back of the building. To her way of thinking, her rattled mental condition was a direct result of a progression of events, every one of which had been instigated by Jared Cradowg, beginning with his boorish behavior the night of the grand opening of the gallery, continuing with his deliberate assault on her senses, and ending with the clever trap he had rigged to ensnare her into agreeing to accompanying him on an educational sight-seeing trip with himself as guide.

  Well, it was out of the question, Karla decided, rejecting her late-night weakness in the light of a new day. Unlocking the door, she stepped into the gallery office. She could not—no, would not!—go with him. As if to punctuate and enforce her decision, she slammed the door.

  “Are you sure it’s shut?”

  Karla started, both at the unexpected sound of the male voice and at the dry amusement in it. Suddenly breathless, and annoyed because of it, she glared at the tall man propped lazily in the doorway to the showroom.

  “Have you decided to make a career of frightening me every morning?” she demanded, but continued before he could respond. “What are you doing here?”

  Jared’s soft laughter did a skip-jump down her spine. “Is this a quiz?” he asked in a teasing drawl. Then, following her example, he went on without waiting for a reply. “Will there be a prize for the correct answer?”

  Karla gritted her teeth and made a strangled sound deep in her throat.

  “Is that a yes or a no?” he prompted.

  “You... you ...” Karla drew a sharp breath. “What do you want at this hour of the morning?” she cried in a voice drawn tight by the resurgence of nocturnal memories.

  Jared shook his head sadly. “No prize for that answer,” he murmured, as if to himself. “The question’s much too easy.”

  A sensation of feeling harried yet excited was too much for Karla’s patience to bear. Her control snapped, and so did she. “Get on with it!”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Jared’s indolent attitude vanished as he straightened and moved toward her with long purposeful strides. “A prize indeed,” he said with satisfaction, pulling her into his arms. “And I didn’t even answer the questions.” Ignoring her startled gasp, he lowered his head and crushed her mouth beneath his.

  His kiss was at once possessive and demanding ... of everything—her submission, her participation, her passion. Karla longed for the strength to deny his demand, but it would have been like denying herself the necessity to breathe. The piercing thrust of his searching tongue rent the invisible fabric of tension cloaking her. Karla’s body softened to meld with the masculine hardness of his. Their tongues engaged in a sweetly erotic duel that sent rapier thrusts of heat to every pleasure point in her body. She shuddered and moaned when his hand skimmed with tantalizing slowness up her rib cage to capture one already taut, aching breast.

  “Does that answer your question?” Jared asked against her moist, trembling lips. “I want you.” His lips blazed a fiery trail down her arched throat. “I want you in the morning. I want you at night.” His tongue probed the shallow hollow at the base of her throat; his voice held a note of near desperation, “I wanted you all last night.”

  Since it reminded her of her own uncomfortable night, Jared’s confession effectively destroyed the resolution Karla had made moments before. “I know,” she whispered, moaning as his fingers found and explored the hardening tip of her breast.

  “Do you?” Jared raised his head to stare into her passion-cloudy eyes. “Yes, you do know,” he answered for her. “You want me now, this instant, don’t you, sweetheart?”

  Karla should have resented the blatant manner in which he was taking advantage of the situation and her, and somewhere deep inside she did. She was just too sense-oriented at that moment to dredge the resentment to the surface. The best she could manage was to refuse him a vocal response.

  “Karla?” Jared’s soft voice held a promise of paradise.

  Hanging on to that promise somewhere deep inside, Karla shook her head obstinately.

  “I can make you answer, you know,” he said with obvious enjoyment, wringing a gasp from her with his long, dexterous fingers.

  Unable to speak because of the anticipatory thrill zigzagging through her, Karla again shook her head. Her breath tangled in her throat at the slow smile that twitched the corners of his mouth an instant before he dipped his head and pressed his smiling lips to the shimmering silky material clinging to her breast.

  As a form of punishment, the sensuous movement of his lips was exquisite torture. Karla’s thinking process dissolved; there was no gallery, no work to be done, no patrons to be catered to. Time hung suspended; there was no day or night. All that was, all that existed, was the excruciating pleasure of Jared’s mouth and hands and body pressed to hers. Reality was an intrusion that activated and enraged the deeply buried resentment; reality intruded in the voice of her assistant.

  “Karla, I—Oh! Oh, Lord!”

  Jared did not rear back in guilty haste. Keeping one arm firmly around Karla’s waist, he straightened and eased around to gaze somberly at Anne.

  “I... I am sorry.” The color in Anne’s cheeks rivaled the splash of red in a western sunset. “I... ah ... had no idea ...” She ground to a helpless halt, her glance darting from her employer to the tall man standing in a protective arch over her.

  In contrast to the blush tingeing Anne’s cheeks, acute embarrassment washed every trace of color from Karla’s face. She opened her mouth to speak, but Jared was obviously thinking much faster.

  “No apology necessary,” he assured the stricken young woman. “If you will give us a moment,” he suggested, “I will remove myself from the premises.”

  “Oh!” The color fluctuated wildly beneath Anne’s smooth young skin. “Yes, of course!” Spinning around, she fled from the office into the showroom.

  Jared’s soft laughter released the lock of mortification on Karla’s throat. “Oh, Lord!” She groaned. “I can’t imagine what Anne must be thinking.”

  “I can.”

  The dry amusement in his voice drew Karla’s dazed eyes to his face. His nearly black eyes held an obsidian gleam, the squint lines at the corners of his eyes were deeply creased, his lips twitched suspiciously, and the muscles along his jawline quivered from his clenching restraint. Shaking free of his supporting arm, she backed two distancing steps away from him. “You think it’s funny?” she demanded indignantly.

  Jared’s control broke and his laughter erupted, flooding Karla’s senses with the sound of his amusement. “Damn straight, it’s funny.” He flicked his hand to indicate the doorway through which Anne had escaped.

  “Sure, you can laugh!” Karla fumed. “But I have to go in there and face ‘that pretty little thing.’“ She drew a harsh breath, then exhaled a long sigh. “What in the world am I going to say to her?”

  His shrug was both careless and elegant. The sinewy movement of his broad shoulders mesmerized Karla for a moment. Jared’s dryly delivered advice quickly brought her back to the reality of her uncomfortable situation. “You don’t have to say anything.” He gave her a chiding smile.

  “Oh, how very profound!” she grumbled, frowning as she attempted to tuck a dislodged lock of her hair into the businesslike coil at the nape of her neck.

  “I wasn’t trying to be profound.” His tone
held an impatient yet vague note. “You don’t really need to explain anything to Anne or anyone else. You’re the boss.”

  The distracted sound of his voice snagged her attention. Glancing at him, Karla felt the breath catch in her chest at the dark intensity of his stare. “What—” she began to ask, but, as if he didn’t hear her, Jared spoke over her voice in a rough-edged murmur.

  “Is it very long?”

  Karla blinked. “What?”

  Jared shifted his brooding gaze to hers. “Your hair,” he explained. “It’s such a rich, lustrous shade of brown. Is it very long?”

  Karla swallowed to wet her suddenly parched throat. “Shoulder-length,” she answered in a dry crackle.

  “I want to touch it, tangle my fingers in it.”

  From the corner of her eye, Karla saw his fingers flex. Her scalp began to tingle, and she felt herself melt inside. As if drawn by the magnet of his dark eyes, her body swayed toward him.

  “Yes,” Jared breathed encouragingly.

  No! Karla caught herself up short. Squaring her shoulders, she raised her arm and pointed to the exit door. “Out!” she ordered in a tight voice.

  Jared’s smile told her he was fully aware of the conflict raging inside of her. “Not until we’ve settled our business.” He shook his head, and a lock of his rough-cut, unruly hair ruffled then came to rest on his forehead.

  Karla’s fingers itched with a desire to smooth the gleaming black strands into place. Denying the urge, she lowered her arm and clasped her hands behind her back. “What business?” she asked, narrowing her eyes with suspicion.

  “You know very well what business.” He arched one eyebrow mockingly. “Or have you conveniently forgotten the sight-seeing trip we discussed last night?”

  Surprisingly—or maybe not so surprisingly, considering the mush his ardor had made of her mind—Karla had forgotten about the trip. Along with his reminder came the jolting remembrance of the decision she’d made a scant fifteen minutes earlier to cancel out of the arrangement. “Ah... Jared—”

  “Ah, Jared, nothing “ he cut her off ruthlessly. “I have no intention of allowing you to back out of it.”

  Karla bristled. “You have no intention!” she exclaimed. “And exactly how do you think you could stop me from backing out of it?”

  He smiled, very slowly, and took a step toward her. “Shall we treat your assistant to a repeat performance of how strong-willed you are?” he asked in a silky tone.

  Absolutely refusing to retreat before his advance, Karla clenched her jaw and held her ground. “I’m warning you, Jared. Don’t touch me.” Karla despaired at the lack of conviction in her wavering voice.

  Jared look intrigued. “Or—what?”

  Outflanked, and too aware of her precarious position, Karla closed her eyes. “Jared, don’t.” She opened her eyes to stare at him with unconcealed entreaty. “I have work to do.” To her disbelief, his eyes softened.

  “Have dinner with me tonight at my place.”

  His voice held a plea that expanded her disbelief to sheer amazement. Not trusting the sound of it, or him, Karla eyed him warily. “I don’t think so.”

  “Don’t think about it,” he said with hard emphasis. “Feel about it.”

  Since it was the feeling she feared, Karla slowly shook her head.

  “Karla ... please.”

  The coaxing allure of his low, crooning voice proved stronger than Karla’s power of resistance. Her emotions in conflict, she stared at him, absorbing the look, the essence of him into her senses.

  Even as a supplicant, Jared was formidable. Though his eyes were soft, they stared at her from a chiseled face taut with inner tension. His back was ramrod-straight. His broad shoulders and chest were tight with ridged muscles. His arms hung loose at his sides, but his fingers were curled into hard fists. His long legs were separated to balance his torso, the rigidly straight, inverted V tapering from muscular calves to hard thighs to narrow hips and flat belly. The civilizing camouflage of fashionable clothing enhanced the exciting uncivilized look of him.

  Karla stared, and absorbed, and conceded defeat. “What time?”

  Jared moved. She started.

  “Don’t panic.” His laughter increased the flow of color to her cheeks.

  “You make me edgy,” Karla admitted without thinking.

  Jared’s laughter ceased abruptly. “I know,” he said, seriously. “The reaction is mutual.”

  Karla’s eyes widened in surprise, but before she could assemble a reply, he was moving ... toward the door. He grasped the shiny metal knob as if fighting a need to tear it from its moorings. “What time?” he repeated in a low growl.

  Karla wasn’t the least bit frightened by his tone or the harsh set of his features. She was trembling, but she wasn’t frightened. Her tremors were a surface reaction to the fire of excitement zipping through her.

  “Seven?” she asked in a husky whisper.

  “Six-thirty” he said flatly.

  She held out an instant, fighting his attraction and her own needs. Then she sighed and surrendered. “I’ll be ready.”

  The effect on Jared was immediate and startling. He went stone-still; then a shudder rippled the length of his tall frame. His fingers opened, releasing the doorknob, then closed again in a crushing grip.

  Attuned to him, Karla was aware of his emotions on every level of her being. For seconds that stretched out toward the boundaries of eternity they stared into each other’s eyes. The feet and inches separating them remained the same, yet there was no distance. They were as one. She felt his passions; he knew her fears.

  Then, abruptly, Jared twisted the knob and pulled the door open, and the boundaries of infinity receded.

  Karla blinked herself back into reality.

  “Six-thirty,” he reiterated.

  Her gaze fastened to his, Karla nodded. Memory stirred as he turned to leave; as he stepped outside, she blurted, “Jared, wait! There’s something I want to know!”

  Turning his head, Jared looked at her over his shoulder, one eyebrow inching up in question. “And that is?”

  Karla motioned at the door to the gallery. “The painting,” she explained in a rush. “Last night, you mentioned something about your grandfather. Did you mean the painting is actually a—

  “A portrait of my grandfather?” Jared finished for her.

  “Yes.”

  Jared’s smile outsparkled the brilliant morning sunlight. “Yes”

  “But...”

  “Tonight, sweetheart.” With the soft promise, Jared was gone, leaving Karla frowning in consternation at the closed door.

  * * *

  Chapter 5

  “You’ve been staring at that canvas for almost an hour.” The edgy sound of Anne’s voice broke into Karla’s deep thoughts. “I’m beginning to think the painting has enchanted you.”

  Tearing her bemused stare from the portrait of Jared’s grandfather, Karla turned to smile absently at her frowning assistant.

  “Or is it the painter who has enchanted you?” Anne didn’t return Karla’s smile. In fact, her lips compressed into a tight line.

  The undercurrent of disapproval in Anne’s tone confused Karla. Her smile faded as she studied her assistant. Anne’s small, slender form was stiff; her features were pinched. Her attitude was puzzling, especially coming from the hero-worship the younger woman had displayed on the opening night of the gallery. It didn’t make sense. Unless...

  Karla’s gaze sharpened on the expression of censure on her assistant’s face as she recalled the passionate scene Anne had witnessed earlier in the office. Could it be possible that the girl was jealous?

  Compassion stirred in Karla. Her smile was soft, her voice gentle. “What’s bothering you, Anne?”

  “Him!” In an almost violent gesture, Anne flung her hand out to indicate the painting.

  Impatience strained the bounds of her compassion at the disparaging harshness of Anne’s voice. Karla’s smile vanished. Conflicting
feelings rushed through her—revival of the embarrassment she’d suffered at having been observed in a compromising position with Jared, and anger at Anne’s contemptuous reference to him. Deciding the air between them needed to be cleared at once, she drew a deep breath and tried to maintain her composure.

  “And what is it about him that bothers you?” Karla’s voice was clipped, her words measured.

  “He can hurt you, Karla!” Anne cried, impulsively reaching out to grasp her hand. “And I’d hate to see that happen to you! You’re too good for that.”

  Now Karla was thoroughly confused. Anne’s anguished tone conveyed genuine concern, which eliminated the possibility of jealousy. Karla shook her head. “Too good for what? Anne, what would you hate to see happen to me?”

  “Jared Cradowg.” Anne said his name as if the very sound of it was distasteful.

  Karla was stunned. “Anne, I don’t understand,” she said, when she could finally speak. “The other night you were thrilled by the very sight of him. And now ...” She lifted her shoulders in a helpless shrug.

  Anne’s grasp tightened urgently on Karla’s hand. “I was thrilled by the presence of the artist, not the man,” she explained.

  Karla frowned. “But the artist is the man, Anne!” she exclaimed.

  “No!” Anne said in sharp denial. “The artist is touched by genius. The man is tainted by ruthlessness.”

  “Oh, Anne, really.” Karla sighed in exasperation. Though it was true she had swiftly concluded that Jared possessed more than his share of arrogance and over-confidence, in her opinion, Anne’s expression, “tainted by ruthlessness,” was more than a bit too much. “Aren’t you being a little melodramatic?” she asked gently.

  Anne shook her head vigorously. “If anything, I’m not stating it strongly enough!” When Karla met her declaration with a dry look, Anne’s eyes grew wide with disbelief. “Haven’t you heard the gossip and rumors about him?”

  Karla’s chin snapped up. “I never listen to gossip or rumors, Anne! The information is generally unfair, not to mention distorted.”