The Game Is Played Page 6

  “Spoilsport.”

  The word was murmured against her lips, which, unbidden, had parted to receive his. Several inches separated him and Helen, yet he made no move to get closer, as if deliberately denying his body the feel of hers. His hands on her face, his mouth on hers, was their only physical contact, yet Helen felt a warmth and security flow through her that could not have been stronger had he enfolded her in his arms, held her tightly against his strong, hard body.

  When he lifted his head, she had to bite back the soft cry of protest that rose in her throat. Opening her eyes, she felt her breath cut off altogether at the intensity of his blue gaze. The fingers of his right hand trailed slowly down her cheek, over her lips, then with a sharp shake of his head he stepped back, a rueful smile twisting his mouth.

  “I think we’d better get out of here,” he clipped tersely, going to the closet to get her coat.

  Shaken, Helen stood mutely, automatically lifting her arms to the sleeves of her coat when he held it for her. When his hands dropped away from her shoulders, she found her voice.

  “I must stop at the hospital.”

  “Why?”

  The sharp edge to his tone drove the fuzziness from her mind. The face she lifted to him was cool, composed.

  “I must make my rounds. I have three post-op and four maternity patients to examine and release papers to sign for another—” Helen paused in midsentence, a look of concern shadowing her eyes. “Marsh, the patient being released this morning is your sister.”

  “I know that.” One dark brow went up in question. “So?”

  “Well—I—mm—I mean.” Helen faltered, then asked quickly, “Were you planning to wait for me in the car?”

  “Hell, no!” He snapped irritably. “Do you know how cold it is out there? And I sure as hell didn’t consider wasting gas to keep the car warm. If you don’t want me trailing around behind you, leave Kris till last and I’ll visit with her while you make your rounds.”

  “But—” Helen hesitated, her fingers playing nervously with her coat buttons. “Marsh, what will your sister think?”

  “Who cares what she thinks?” He pulled the door open angrily. “Now, can we go and get these rounds over with? I’m hungry.”

  An uneasy silence rode with them all the way to the hospital. By the time Marsh stopped the car at the entrance, Helen’s nerves were ragged.

  “I’ll park the car and see you later in Kris’s room.”

  Helen chose to ignore the anger that still laced his tone. She didn’t want him to wait for her in his sister’s room, simply because she didn’t want Kristeen Darren to know that they were together.

  “Why don’t you wait for me in the lunchroom? Have some toast and a cup of—”

  “Helen!” he exploded. “Will you get on with it? At the rate we’re moving it will be lunchtime before we get breakfast.”

  Hot anger shot through her, and not bothering to reply, she slammed out of the car and into the building. I must be out of my mind, she fumed. Why did I agree to spend the day with him? Did I, in fact, actually agree?

  Thoughts of the same nature seethed in her mind as Helen made her rounds, her cool outward appearance giving no hint of the anger that boiled in her veins. Not since Carl had she allowed a man to upset her like this. And the fact that he was younger than she was an added thorn. She was doing the work she loved and was completely satisfied with her life. She didn’t need any man, let alone a smooth-talking rich kid who could issue orders like a marine sergeant.

  By the time she walked into Kristeen Darren’s room, Helen was in a cold fury and ready to tell Marshall Kirk to go to hell. The scene that met Helen’s eyes as she walked through the doorway brought an abrupt halt to her angry stride.

  Kristeen was sitting on the bed fully dressed, an impatient frown on her face. Her husband paced restlessly between the room’s only window and the bed. Her mother sat, back rigid, in a chair beside the bed. And in the corner, sitting on a functional, straight-backed chair, Marsh somehow managed to look lazily comfortable. Helen’s eyes slid over him as if he were not there.

  “I’m sorry I’m late, Kristeen.” She apologized briskly, drawing four pairs of eyes to her. “I’ve signed your release, and they’ll be bringing your baby to you in a minute. How are you feeling this morning?”

  Her fingers on Kristeen’s wrist, her eyes on her watch, Helen smiled and nodded understandably at the young woman’s breathless tone.

  “I’m fine, Doctor, excited about taking my baby home.”

  “Of course,” she murmured, adjusting her stethoscope. Satisfied with what she heard, Helen glanced at Kristeen as she removed the instrument. “Okay, you may go. Do you have any questions about the instructions I gave you yesterday?”

  “No, Doctor, everything’s clear.”

  “Fine. If you have any problem whatever, call my office.” Except for the cursory glance she’d given him on first entering the room, Helen had not looked at Marsh. She did not look at him now as, smiling warmly at the other three, she wished Kristeen good luck with her daughter, said she’d see her in six weeks, and turned to leave. Marsh’s voice stopped her a foot from the door.

  “Helen.”

  The sound of her name in that smooth, too-soft tone sent a chill along her spine. Turning slowly, she met his eyes, her breath catching at the mocking slant of his lips, the flash of blue fire in his eyes.

  Out of the corner of her eye Helen caught the confused glances that flew between Kristeen, her husband, and her mother. Using every ounce of willpower she possessed, Helen hung on to her cool.

  “Yes?”

  “You’re finished now?”

  Helen’s teeth ground together at the warm note Marsh had inflected into his voice. Just what did he think he was doing? she thought furiously, noting the sharp, glance his mother turned at him. Her tone went from cool to cold.

  “Yes.”

  “Then, my love, can we now go and have breakfast? My stomach is beginning to feel divorced from the rest of my body.”

  The soft gasps that came from the two women, the low whistle that Kristeen’s husband emitted, grated against Helen’s nerves. She could have happily hit him. Instead she nodded her head sharply and turned to the door. He was beside her before she had taken three steps, his arm sliding possessively around her waist.

  “Take care, Kristeen,” he said lightly, shepherding Helen out of the room. “I’ll see you all later.”

  Too angry to trust herself with words, Helen maintained a frigid silence as she retrieved her coat and followed him to his car. Spitting like an angry cat, she turned to him as soon as both car doors were closed.

  “Damn you, Kirk,” she began heatedly, only to have him cut her off with a soft warning,

  “Watch it, my sweet. I’ll take just about anything from you, except your cursing me.”

  “I’m not asking you to take anything at all from me,” she sputtered, growing more angry by the minute. “And I want nothing from you. Not a meal, or a walk in the park, or your company. I’m going home.”

  Helen turned to the door, hand groping for the release, and gave a sharp cry of pain when his hands grasped her shoulders, pulled her around to face him.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” he growled, giving her a not-too-gentle shake, “At least not until you tell me what you’re so mad about.”

  “Oh, I’m not mad, Mr. Kirk.” Helen returned his growl. “I’m way past mad. Try furious. Better yet, try incensed.”

  “But why?” His confusion was unfeigned. As angry as she was, Helen had no doubt of that. For some reason it incited her even more.

  “Why?” She choked. “Why? What were you trying to do back there in Kristeen’s room? Do you know?”

  “Yes, I know,” he replied evenly. “I was determined to make you acknowledge my existence. You would have walked out of that room without even looking at me, wouldn’t you?”

  “Yes,” she answered bluntly,

  “Yes,” he repeated gr
imly. “And that’s why I stopped you.”

  “And because I bruised your delicate ego, you mentioned our having breakfast together in a tone that suggested we spent the night together.”

  “Oh,” he breathed out slowly. “Now we get to the real reason for your anger. You didn’t want anyone—not just my family, but anyone—to know we were together because you were afraid they’d wonder if we were sleeping together. That’s why you wanted me to wait in the car or lunchroom.”

  “Exactly.” Helen’s face had taken on her cool, withdrawn, professional expression. Her tone held frigid hauteur. “My reputation, both professionally and privately, is spotless. I fully intend to keep it that way. I will not have my name bandied about in speculative gossip.”

  The laughter that met her stilted statement wiped the composure off Helen’s face.

  “Bandied about?” he gasped, between whoops of delight. “Oh! I love it. Bandied about.” With an obvious effort he brought his roars under control. “You straight-backed screwball. Where did you pull that chestnut from?”

  Against her better judgment Helen felt her lips twitch with humor. What a pompous ass she sounded. Where had she pulled that chestnut from?

  “Don’t laugh at me, Marsh,” she scolded quietly. “It’s not polite to ridicule your elders.”

  Hot, swift anger wiped the amusement from his face, cut off the laughter still rumbling in his chest. The abrupt transition startled and frightened her.

  “Damn you, Helen,” he snarled softly, fingers digging painfully into her shoulders. “What is this stupid hang-up you have about our ages? You are not my elder” Helen’s eyes widened as his face drew close to hers, “You will not speak to me as if I were a naughty boy.” His eyes glittered with intent, robbing Helen of breath. “A naughty man maybe, but not a naughty boy.”

  His lips, hard with anger, forced hers apart. The rigid tip of his tongue flicked against her teeth, stirring an unwanted curl of excitement in her midsection.

  “You want a taste of the man, Helen?”

  A seductive whisper, then his mouth crushed hers hungrily, has tongue plunged to extract the sweetness as a bee extracts honey from the blossom.

  Helen’s heart seemed to stop, then the beat increased to thunder in her ears like the hoof beats of a wildly galloping horse. Good Lord! It was the last coherent thought she had for several seconds. His hands turned her, pushed her gently against the seat, and her breasts were crushed by the weight of his chest.

  An ache began, deep inside, that quickly grew to enormous proportions. Giving in to the need to get closer to him, Helen’s arms encircled his waist, tightened convulsively.

  His mouth left hers reluctantly, came back as if unwilling to have the moment end. Between slow, languorous forays, he muttered, “How long, Helen? How long before you face reality and yourself? You want me. I know you do.”

  Helen brought her hand up, her fingers moving across his lips.

  “Marsh, stop.” Her breathing was uneven, erratic. “I don’t want any emotional involvements. Oh, Marsh, please.” His lips were busy against her fingers, his teeth nipped playfully. “There’s no time in my life for a man.”

  “Too late,” he murmured. His lips caught the tip of her ring finger, sucked gently. “You’ve got a man in your life. At the moment a very hungry man.” He moved away from her, back behind the steering wheel, a rueful smile slanting his mouth. “A hungry man in more ways than one. Are we going to go eat or are you going to sit there and watch me slowly starve to death?”

  Helen welcomed his return to humor with a sigh of relief. Although his anger had been brief, it had been fierce and he had really frightened her. What would he be like, she wondered fleetingly, if he really let loose? She could only hope she never had to witness it, let alone be the cause of it. The mere thought made her feel cold all over. Shrugging to cover the shiver that shook her slim frame, Helen gave in.

  “All right, Marsh, you win. We’ll go eat.”

  His smile grew into a rakish grin. “At the risk of sounding conceited, I think I’d better warn you that I usually do. Win, that is.”

  Later, sitting in a small restaurant, Helen toyed with her cheese omelet and watched, fascinated, while Marsh demolished a huge club sandwich and double order of French fries. Their conversation had been minimal as he attacked the food like a man who was actually starving.

  When he finished, he wiped his lips with his napkin, indicated to the waitress that he’d like his coffee cup refilled, sat back, and turned that unnerving blue gaze on her.

  “Are you from Philly originally?”

  Helen blinked with the suddenness of his question after the long silence. Nodding to the waitress who held the coffee pot paused over her cup, her eyebrows raised questioningly, Helen matched his casual tone. “No, I was born up near Wilkes-Barre. My father was a G.P., had a surprisingly large practice considering the size of the community.”

  “Was? Had?” He probed.

  “He retired two years ago. He and my mother sold everything and moved to Phoenix, Arizona.” She lifted her gaze from her coffee cup, unaware of the touch of sadness he could see in her eyes, the wistfulness of her small smile. “I miss them.”

  “Of course.” His voice lost some of its casualness. “You have other family here? Brothers, sisters?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I have a younger brother, he’s also in Phoenix. That’s the main reason Mother and Dad decided to retire there. He, Rob, has two small children. My parents wanted to watch their grandchildren grow up.” Helen’s smile twisted wryly. ‘They gave up the hope of seeing any grandchildren from me a long time ago.”

  “Why?” Marsh’s tone sharpened. “You’re not too old to have kids.”

  Helen breathed deeply, gave a quick shake of her head. “I don’t want children, Marsh.”

  His eyes narrowed at the calm sound of her voice. His shoulders lifted, came down again in an oddly resigned gesture.

  “Okay.” His tone was flat, but steady. “We won’t have any.”

  “Won’t have any! Marsh—”

  Helen stopped herself on hearing her own rising voice. She glanced around quickly before continuing in a much lower, fiercer tone. “Marsh, what are you talking about? You know my feelings on—”

  “Not here.” Marsh rose, silencing her effectively. In the car she turned to him as soon as he’d slid behind the wheel. “Not here, either,” he snapped with finality.

  Helen was amazed at the number of people in Fairmont Park. It was very cold and the wind, though not strong, bit at her exposed skin with icy teeth. “Incredible,” she murmured, after they’d been walking for some minutes. “Is it like this every Sunday?”

  “Yes.” He slanted a mocking glance at her. “Helen, I find it hard to believe you didn’t know. Don’t you ever watch the local news on T.V.?”

  “I rarely watch T.V. at all.” She replied, glancing around interestedly. “I did know the park was a favorite spot for joggers but I had no idea there were this many people into jogging, let alone all these other people here.”

  “You live a rather single-minded existence, don’t you?” he chided.

  “I never thought of it that way, but”—she shrugged— “I suppose I do. Which reminds me: Back at the restaurant you said— Marsh! What are you doing?”

  He had taken her gloved left hand in his larger bare one. After tugging her glove off, he laced the fingers of his right hand through her left, then slipped their clasped hands into the deep fur-lined slash pocket of his jacket. When she tried to pull her hand free, his fingers tightened until she cried out in pain. “Marsh, please.”

  “Stop fighting me.” His fingers loosened, but not enough for her to slip free. “And back at the restaurant I said that if you didn’t want children we wouldn’t have any.”

  He was so unconcerned, so nonchalant, Helen was beginning to feel she’d get better results talking to one of the park’s many trees. Fighting to hang on to her patience, she gritted slowly.
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  “That’s right, we won’t have any children. We won’t have anything together for the simple reason we won’t be together. What do I have to do to make you understand? I don’t want a relationship. I don’t want to be bothered by any man.” During this entire tirade Helen’s tone had not risen above a harsh whisper. Now she drew a ragged breath and added in a more normal tone, “Do I make myself clear?”

  “Perfectly.”

  It was what she’d wanted to hear, so why did his prompt, careless answer cause a sharp pain in her chest? No sooner had the thought skittered through her mind than he added blandly, “There’s only one problem, my love. You are already bothered by a man. This man. And this man plans to bother you one hell of a lot more before he’s through.”

  “Marsh,” Helen began angrily, but he cut in in that same bland tone.

  “Let’s shelve the subject for now and enjoy our walk. Are you cold?”

  “Yes. No. A little.” Helen could have shouted at him, he had her so frustrated, she didn’t know what she was saying. And his soft, delighted laughter didn’t help much either. “I mean I am a little cold but I’m enjoying the walk.”

  “Good. Do you want to walk down to the river and see if there are any hardy souls crewing?”

  Helen hesitated. If there were boats on the river, she’d like to see them. But then again, her nose was beginning to feel numb now and the wind off the water would be a lot colder, so she shivered and shook her head. “I don’t think so. Another day perhaps,”

  “Chicken.” He taunted softly. “Don’t tell me you’re a hothouse flower.”

  “Coming from Wilkes Barre?” She laughed. “You have got to be kidding. Why, when I was in the sixth grade I was the undisputed snowball champ.”

  “Liar.”

  Helen’s laughter sang on the cold air, bringing a bemused expression to his eyes, a deepening timbre to his voice. “What were you really like in sixth grade?”

  “Quiet, studious, head-of-the-class type. You know.” She paused, looked away from him. “I never wanted to be anything but a doctor. My mother despaired at my nose in a book, but my father was delighted. He had similar hopes for Rob too, but Rob had his own ideas.” She laughed again, a soft, reminiscent laugh. “Rob’s a charmer. Always has been. He could talk the face off an eight-day clock. A born salesman. And that’s exactly what he is. Makes an excellent living at it too.”