Silver Miracles by Fayrene Preston Page B

now."
    The speed at which he managed to get them across the floor, out the door and into the private elevator that whisked them to the garage level was nothing short of astounding.
    "Chase! Why on earth did you do that? I think Mary and Hector were just about to give me an order for a quilt."
    "Damn it, Trinity! That man is chairman of the board of one of the largest banks in Texas. Besides which, you don’t have to sew quilts to make a living."
    "I haven’t the vaguest idea of what you’re talking about, Chase. I’ve told you how handy that extra money is."
    "We’ll talk about it when we get home." His flat, angry edict kept Trinity quiet for the short car ride "home," which turned out to be his penthouse apartment.
    Once there, Trinity wandered to the couch and sat down, shaking her head in silent refusal to Chase’s terse question, "Drink?"
    Chase took one, long drink of Scotch, then put the glass down. Turning, he walked slowly over to her, until he was standing just a short distance away. Shoving his hands in the pockets of his black evening suit, he regarded Trinity thoughtfully for a minute.
    At last, in a voice that was low and restrained, he commenced. "Nothing I have done these past weeks has made the slightest impression on you, has it?"
    Trinity didn’t answer. Somehow, she knew that it was a rhetorical question. Instead, she waited, the clear green of her gaze never wavering from him.
    "You refuse my gifts. Hell! You refuse half the flowers I send you." Chase began to pace back and forth in front of her, his accusatory words slicing through the air, nearly puncturing her heart with their sharpness. "You’re living on a farm, with no help, barely eking out a living, yet you turn down everything I try to give you.
    "I take you to the most expensive restaurants, the most exclusive parties, the newest "in" places, and you not only manage to fit right in, you have some of the richest people in the country eating out of your hand." Chase paused in his pacing and looked straight at her, skewering her with his hard-bitten eyes. "And you’re no closer to my bed than you were weeks ago."
    Chase drew a deep breath, looking at her and appearing to choose his next words very carefully. "I want you more than ever, Trinity, and I’m willing to settle a great deal of money on you, enough to make you independent for the rest of your life, if you come back to my bed. The money can be in any account you choose by noon tomorrow."
    Trinity bolted from the sofa, moving quickly over to the huge window. The magnificent view of the night lights of Dallas blurred before her eyes. She knew the room was maintained at a comfortable temperature, yet suddenly she felt cold—so very, very cold. She hugged herself, rubbing her arms with her hands, trying to instill some warmth in them, until she heard Chase come up behind her. Then her hands ceased their nervous movement, and Trinity waited quietly for his next blow to fall.
    "Trinity?" His voice was coaxingly soft as he turned her around to face him. "I have great power and even greater wealth. Come to me and I promise I’ll use it all to make you happy."
    At first, Trinity wasn’t sure she would even be able to speak. Her throat seemed to be completely clogged by tears—tears that formed a vast ocean of unexpressed pain. And when she finally did, her voice was not recognizable. It was strained, and the words were croaked out. "For how long?"
    "I don’t know," he gritted. "All I know is that, having had you once, I must have you again."
    "I see. And love doesn’t enter into it?"
    "Love is a schoolgirl’s fantasy. I’m not sure I believe in it."
    "What do you believe in, Chase?"
    "You . . . me . . . and what we can make each other feel." He reached out and ran the back of his hand down the side of her face.
    Trinity shrugged away from the caress and moved to the middle of the room. "And marriage, Chase? Do you believe in marriage?"
    "I travel very fast through life. You know