Love Play by Rosemary Rogers by Unknown

taunting eyes head-on.
    'Oh? And what right do you have to offer me advice? Or to drag me down
here without offering me a choice .. .'
    'You knew very well when we parted last night that I would come for you
today - did you not? Come, Delight, let us not carry our little mating dance to
extremes! We have each made our moves and now it is your turn to come forward a
little, hmm?'
    He put his long fingers on the nape of her neck, sliding them up into
her curls to keep her head from turning away from his frowning face.
    Sara's eyes widened, feeling his eyes burn into her; dark coals, as they
had in her dream last night. She would never, never understand what held her
there silent and unmoving, Through her body crept the same languorous weakness
she had felt on waking this morning. Why couldn't she take her eyes away from
his face with its harsh, almost Arabic planes ro it? There was something cruel
and merciless about his face that made her want to shiver with helpless
fascination. Could he be cruel? Why was he pursuing her with the softly lethal
efficiency of a hunting leopard? What did he want with her?
    Sara began to shake her head as a shiver of pure terror trickled down
her spine, and his fingers tightened slightly -but enough to hurt when she
tried to move her head again.
    'Delight. . .' She saw how his eyes dwelt on her mouth and shivered
again while his voice turned slightly husky. 'You were named for your mouth
that promises just that, Why do we waste time with the games we play?'
    He bent over and let his lips brush against hers with deceptive softness
while all the while she could feel what was almost the vibration of the leashed
tension of passion inside him.
    It frightened her enough to push her hands against his shoulders with a
strength born of desperation.
    'Stop itl Stop it at once! I'm not playing games at all! And I ... I
like to be asked first, if you please!' Belatedly remembering that she was
supposed to be Delight, and her sister would definitely have sworn under like
circumstances, Sara added strongly, 'And I'd thank you ro get the hell away
from me - and stay away!'
    He had released her, but the cowardly, cowering side of Sara had noticed
that he had merely stepped back to stand with his back against the door.
Strangely enough, except for his threatening stance he did not appear to be
perturbed by her rude rejection - merely quizzical. 'Why do you say things you
do not mean?'
    She shrank back as if she expected him to touch her again, but he merely
crossed his hands over his chest, continuing to watch her in a somewhat
detached sort of way.
    'And why are you afraid to answer me?' His nostrils flared slightly in a
way that was somehow menacing, before he added in a softer tone, 'I think you feel
the same thing that I do, but because you are a liberated American woman you
fight against your own basic instincts. I had expected a more open, more
courageous young woman, Signorina Delight Adams! A woman more like your mother
who, with all her faults, is at least a real woman!'
    If his sarcastic words had been meant to sting like whips they stung
hard enough to rouse Sara's temper - which was almost never aroused.
    She erupted off the chair to take a stand right before him, hands
planted on her hips. On the mirrored wall of Paul Drury's office Sara caught a
glimpse of herself, slim to the point of skinniness, but a good figure for
jeans. Hers were tight and faded, with a short-sleeved red silk shirt (only
three buttons to this one!) tucked in. Pale in the face except for the blusher
that exaggerated the hollows beneath her cheekbones. Eyes made bigger by
make-up. With her hair tied back she looked more like an adolescent boy than a
... hadn't he said 'real woman?'
     
    Chapter 8
    Afterwards Sara was to wonder what might have happened if he hadn't
interrupted her raging tirade — couched in language she was ashamed of and
Delight would have no doubt applauded. 'Now just you listen for a change, you
conceited,