Kitabı oxu: «These Arms of Mine»

Chapter 1

Derrick Chandler stared in exasperation at the man sitting across from him. Why did campaign managers always have to try to change your life? He listened in annoyance as Cameron Stewart continued to tell him what he must do in order to win the Senate race, which he had recently entered.

He wondered why he hadn’t just stuck to corporate law instead of throwing his hat into the political arena. He decided the main reason was the city in which he resided—if you were a successful lawyer and lived in Washington, D.C., it seemed predestined that a foray into the world of politics would occur at some time or another.

Fingers absently tapped his chocolate-colored, clean-shaven chin impatiently and then brushed a piece of lint off the breast pocket of his immaculate navy blue suit. After Cameron talked until he was satisfied, then Derrick would have his say—the other man in the room would not be pleased with what he would hear. He disliked anyone telling him what he should and should not do, and Cam was treading on dangerous ground.

“Derrick, the simple fact is that you need a wife.” Cam succinctly summed up his ten-minute tirade.

Derrick bolted upright in his chair, his gray eyes growing hard and cold. His voice matched his angry countenance. “And you need a psychiatrist.”

Cam sighed audibly, not in the least put off by his friend’s frigid tone. “Just listen to me…”

“No, you listen to me.” Derrick held up a hand forestalling his friend’s words. “I tried the marriage scene once, and we both know what a fiasco that was.”

“Well, I told you before you married her…”

Derrick’s darkening eyes stopped Cam cold. “You’re treading on dangerous ground, Cameron.”

“I know, Derrick, but just hear me out.” He quickly continued before his friend could object, “You hired me to increase your chances of being elected and, whether you like it or not, I’ve got to tell you what I think.”

“Well, I don’t like it, but if you want to hear yourself talk, be my guest.”

He scratched his lightly bearded chin. “We’re doing great in all demographics except for women.”

Derrick frowned. “I thought our numbers looked pretty good there.”

“Pretty good, but if you had a woman in your life, one who could relate with and talk to other women, one on one, about their concerns, I have no doubt our numbers would double.”

“Wouldn’t a female member of my staff work?”

“Please!” Cam’s look of disgust elicited a chuckle. “Man, this is America—the land of opportunity, the home of apple pie and baseball.”

Derrick rolled his eyes. “This sure sounds like a commercial.”

“With the election a little over a year away, now is the perfect time for you to be seen as someone who has deep ties to the community, someone who has something in common with his constituents, someone who shares their dreams and hopes. The best way to identify with them is to be seen as a family man.”

“You’re not married.”

“I’m not running for public office, either.” Cam folded his arms across his chest. “You are and you need someone, and not just any woman—a wife. Just think about it, a built-in hostess for parties and a date ready and willing to go with you whenever and wherever. I know I’m getting through to you.” Cam carefully studied Derrick’s purposefully unreadable expression.

“Wouldn’t a German shepherd accomplish the same thing as a wife?” Derrick smiled slightly.

Cam closed his eyes in frustration before quickly opening them again. “Will you try to see my point of view?”

“No, you try to see mine. I am not going to marry anyone ever again!” He deliberately emphasized each word.

Cam opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again as a buzz sounded from the phone on the desk.

Derrick yanked up the handset impatiently. “Yes, what is it?”

He was more than a little annoyed—he had left instructions not to be disturbed.

“If she won’t tell you, then tell her I’m in conference and can’t be disturbed!”

He unceremoniously slammed the receiver back into its cradle. He made a mental note to apologize to Dorothy once Cameron left. He was in a foul mood, brought on by the other man’s ludicrous suggestion.

Cam was shaking his head disapprovingly. “People skills, Derrick. People skills!”

“What do I pay you for?” In spite of himself, he almost smiled at his friend’s dismayed tone.

“To tell you what others dare not.”

“Well, you certainly seem to enjoy that part of the job.” This time, a genuine smile tilted the corners of his frowning mouth.

“My mother always told me I love a challenge, and you certainly are that.” Cam picked up his briefcase and prepared to leave.

“Are we done?”

“Yes, we’re done. I’ll try to sell you on getting a wife later.”

“Oh, joy.” Derrick rose to shake his hand.

“Do you have anything else you need to talk to me about?”

“No, please go.” Derrick reclaimed his seat behind the desk.

“See you tonight at seven sharp.”

As Cam walked toward the door, Derrick grimaced at the thought of another political dinner/debate—he loved the debates, but he detested sitting around with strangers, making senseless small talk over steak or chicken that tasted like rubber and vegetables that had much in common with plastic.

“How could I forget?”

“Just be there, and on time.”

“Anything else, Mom?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. But I don’t have the strength to discuss it with you right now.” He ran a hand over his bald head. “I used to have hair before you and I became friends.”

“Later, Cameron.” Derrick’s sigh turned into a chuckle at the exasperated look he received before his friend left with a decisive click of the door.

Alone at last, he laughed out loud and ran a hand over his short-cropped hair. He enjoyed needling Cam, almost as much as he enjoyed his newfound career in politics. Best friends since law school, Derrick and Cam looked like brothers—each sharing the same dark coloring, height and build. They had been friendly rivals who had quickly developed a deep, lasting friendship.

Another chuckle escaped from his lips. Cam was right—Derrick could always count on him to say what others dared not to. He supposed that was one of the reasons he liked him so much. That and the fact that he had always been intensely loyal and dependable—two attributes Derrick valued greatly.

Picking up from his desktop a manila folder containing information on his running mate, he reclined in his plush black-leather chair as he began to leaf through the pages carefully, familiarizing himself with every detail—it was always best to know one’s opponent better than oneself.

Curious as raised voices wafted through the closed door to his assistant’s office, Derrick wondered what had prompted the argument. Seconds later, the door abruptly swung open to admit a woman he thought he would never see again—Alesha Robinson. Automatically, he stood and his icy eyes locked with her uneasy ones.

“It’s all right, Dorothy. I’ll see Miss Robinson.”

He broke eye contact and nodded curtly in his assistant’s direction. The woman glanced angrily at Alesha before firmly closing the door as she left.

He felt as if he had been punched hard in the gut, and it wasn’t a pleasant feeling. Alesha Robinson was here, standing a few feet away from him, looking as beautiful as he remembered. Damn her! Damn himself for wanting to quickly close the distance between them, crush her in his arms and fuse his starving mouth with hers.

“What brings you to my door, Alesha?” He silently blessed his voice for sounding coolly controlled, when he felt anything but.

She looked lovelier than he remembered, dressed in a plain white sweater and black slacks. That silky light brown skin of hers begged to be caressed. His fingers itched to oblige. Her thick black hair was pulled back from her face, held in a clasp at her nape. He knew from experience that her hair was soft—softer than anything else this world had to offer. To keep from walking over to her he sat back down in his chair. His eyes then went to her left hand and he wasn’t sure whether he was relieved or angered that no engagement or wedding ring rested there.

He continued to survey her hungrily. His eyes drank in every aspect of her face, afraid she was a mirage he had to memorize before she quickly disappeared. He had sometimes wondered if the predicament her brother had gotten himself into would force them to see each other again. He couldn’t decide if he was glad or angry that outside pressure had precipitated her return to his life, instead of her own desire.

Her steps faltered as her eyes refamiliarized themselves with Derrick’s extremely handsome face—she had almost forgotten the effect the mere sight of him had on her. Since their first chance meeting when they had both stopped to help out at the scene of a multicar accident, he had done strange things to her equilibrium. Although currently his face was hard and foreboding, she remembered how his infectious smile could send her heart racing frantically. He sat before her after all this time like a statue—a beautiful bronze statue, she amended. She recalled how unbending his body had been against the yielding softness of hers—they had been the perfect complement for each other in so many ways. That is, until everything had fallen apart by her own hands.

Her stomach churned queasily and her heart began beating faster and louder in her ears as she stopped just in front of the mahogany desk behind which he sat. Her heart leaped in her chest, but was it from anxiety or happiness at seeing him again? Anxiety, definitely. She was here for business—to ask him for a monumental favor—and for no other reason.

“Mr. Chandler, I need to speak with you.” She was pleased with the steadiness of her precise and crisply articulated sentence.

“Why so formal, Alesha?”

“I’m here to discuss business, Mr. Chandler.”

She made her voice curt, hoping the tone would end his unnerving inspection of her, which was causing every nerve ending in her body to silently cry out for what she knew from experience was his masterful touch.

He had an almost irrepressible desire to trace his fingers down that silky skin of hers—it couldn’t possibly be as soft as he remembered. Yet, instinctively, he knew it was. And her full, faintly tinted brown lips—would kissing her still feel like exquisite torture? Pure heaven, that was how he remembered feeling with her in his arms, and he was sure that observation was still accurate.

She waited uneasily for him to say something, anything. He seemed content to just stare at her. Piercing eyes traveled leisurely over her. What was he thinking? Instinctively, she knew she didn’t want to know. Was he as disconcerted by seeing her again as she was at seeing him? She couldn’t tell—he seemed cold, almost frigid. She felt like fleeing. Why didn’t he say or do something?

“Mr. Chandler?”

“I’m busy.”

He was annoyed at himself for behaving like a moonstruck idiot. With great effort, he tore his eyes away from her lovely face and angrily picked up a piece of paper from his desk. It took all his self-restraint to totally ignore her.

She bit back the angry retort that sprang to her lips at his callous actions. One thing she didn’t need was to put him on the defensive. She had come to him for help, after all—help that she really didn’t deserve.

“Surely you can spare me a few moments.” Her tone indicated she would accept nothing less.

He returned the paper to his desk and reluctantly looked at her once again. He mentally scolded himself as he felt his pulse rate increase as she ran her tongue over her upper lip.

“What do you want?”

She silently cursed him for asking a question he obviously knew the answer to. You might offer me a seat first, she silently fumed.

“I’m here about Robert.”

At the mention of her brother’s name, he closed the folder in front of him and motioned for her to be seated in the chair Cam had just vacated. She was painfully aware of the intense focus of his eyes and an emotion she dared not name hidden in their now-frigid depths.

“I was wondering when he would send you in to plead his case.” In fact, he had been counting on it.

Her spine stiffened in the soft leather chair and quickly contradicted him. “He didn’t. I came on my own to ask you not to press charges against him.”

He smiled slightly at that. “You must be as mad as your brother is if you think I’m going to allow him to embezzle $100,000 from my campaign fund and just walk away, free as a bird.”

“If you will just let me explain…” She squared her shoulders for a fight she had known was inevitable.

“There’s no explanation you have that I am interested in hearing. He took the money—that’s all I need to know.”

“Regardless, I’m going to tell you the reason my brother borrowed the money from you.”

His eyes narrowed at the slight edge evident in her tone. What did she have to be bent out of shape about? He was the one who had been wronged by her brother—and by her. What right did she have to treat him as the villain or even to be here asking anything of him?

“Borrowed? That’s an interesting choice of words. Go on. Tell me, why did your brother borrow the money?” He crossed his arms across his broad chest, drawing attention to his muscular physique.

She had the feeling she was wasting her time, but she had to try, for her family’s sake. Maybe he would be sympathetic once he learned why Robert had stolen from him. At least she prayed he would.

“Well?” he prompted. “Let me guess. He used it to bet on the ponies.” At her blank stare he tried again. “The slots? Sports? Cards?”

“I don’t approve of my brother’s actions.”

“Neither do I and I intend to make my disapproval a matter of public record by filing charges against him.” When she remained silent, he continued, “I don’t know what you hoped to accomplish by coming here.” Except to remind me of what you needlessly snatched away from me—from both of us—two years ago.

At this moment neither did she. “I thought I could make you understand.”

“Did your brother take my money?”

“Yes.” The single word was spoken through gritted teeth.

“Was it his money to take?” He continued in the same no-nonsense courtroom tone.

“You know it wasn’t!” She felt like a petulant child he was taking great pleasure in chastising.

Yes, Robert had been wrong to take Derrick’s money, but couldn’t he show a little compassion? She wondered how much of his unbending attitude had more to do with her past actions than with Robert’s thievery.

He had been dreaming of and dreading this moment for two long years. Against his will, he noticed those heavenly eyes of hers sparkle as her temper rose, making her even more beautiful, more desirable. His inappropriate observations annoyed him, making his next words clipped and terse.

“By your own admission, and your brother’s, he committed a crime—a felony. What more do I need to understand?” He opened the folder on his desk again, dismissing her.

“Robert’s sorry.”

He laughed without humor. “I’m sure he is, now that he’s been caught.”

She was favored with another of his piercing gazes. And somehow resisted the almost irrepressible urge to run as fast and as far from him as her legs could carry her. Even after two years, he still unnerved her completely while he seemed completely unaffected by seeing her again. No, that wasn’t true. He was angry, but not at her brother.

“He knows what he did was wrong.”

“Well, that’s very touching, but it doesn’t replace my $100,000, does it?”

He was tired of talking about her brother and would much rather talk about her. What had she done in the two years they had been apart? Had she missed him? Had she second-guessed and third-guessed her fateful decision that had ruined both of their lives? Had she spent sleepless nights wondering where he was and whom he was with? He hoped so. Because against his better judgment, he had thought about her often—about the satisfying relationship they could and should have been enjoying during that time, if only she hadn’t destroyed things between them.

He was disheartened to learn that despite her betrayal, she still had the power to move him and make him want to rewrite their story to his satisfaction. Why couldn’t they turn back the clock and be meeting coincidentally for the first time? Why did they have to be enemies by virtue of their past relationship?

She remembered him as caring, compassionate and passionate. He had made her feel as if she were the most important person in the world to him. He had made her want to lose herself in him. He had both thrilled and frightened her. Where had that Derrick Chandler gone? Had she somehow destroyed him? If she had, why did that thought disturb her so much?

“I have a lot of work to do.”

He needed to get her out of here before he made a complete fool of himself. He didn’t like where his memories were leading him or how hard he had to fight to keep himself from touching her. She had nearly ruined his life, and he shouldn’t want anything to do with her, should he?

“We’ll pay you back.”

He sighed fully before giving her his full attention again. “When?”

“As soon as we can.” At his dubious look she nearly shouted, “You don’t need the money. You don’t even miss it!”

“That’s not the point.”

The coldest eyes she had ever encountered locked on hers. She forced herself not to retreat from his frigid gaze—she knew from past experience he could utterly melt a woman’s heart and resistance without even trying. After all this time, he still unnerved her. He made her feel completely raw and vulnerable.

“So, what is the point?”

“Your brother took something that belonged to me. No one does that without suffering the consequences—no one.”

The darkening of her eyes let him know that his reference to their relationship was not lost on her.

“How can you be so heartless?”

“Look, I didn’t ask your brother to embezzle funds from me, and I didn’t ask you to come here today, pleading with me to show mercy to someone who should be—no, who will be—prosecuted.”

Why didn’t she leave and stop torturing him with her very presence? Lord, what had he done in his life to deserve this?

“I don’t know what else to say.” She closed her eyes as if seeking divine intervention.

Unable to bear staring at her beauty another second, he swiveled his chair to look out the huge wall-to-wall windows. “You can show yourself out.”

She quickly weighed telling him the real reason Robert had embezzled from him. It had nothing to do with gambling, as he had suggested. If he knew Robert’s actions were motivated out of love, not greed, would it change his attitude? Would the truth soften his hard heart? She didn’t want to bare her soul to him, but if it would save her brother, she didn’t have a choice in the matter.

“Won’t you please just listen to me?” She faced the back of his head. “Robert’s not what you think. He took the money because…”

He swiveled in his chair and held up a hand to forestall the remainder of her explanation. He’d had enough and needed her to leave.

“Alesha, I don’t care why Robert took the money—all that matters is that he’s an embezzler! Nothing you have to say will change that or make me change my mind about pressing charges against him. I’ve heard you out, now goodbye.”

She quickly stood, realizing she was wasting her time. There was no use in trying to appeal to his better nature. His words made that perfectly clear and she had no intention of giving him the satisfaction of watching her beg.

She snatched up her purse. “What happened to you? How did you become so cold?”

“I am what people like you have made me.”

God, she was torturing him. Her very presence tormented him; yet she also made him feel like he hadn’t felt in a long, long time, and he was angry and unsettled by that.

“You are what you want to be.” She was angry with herself and with her absurd reaction to seeing him again. “I’m sorry I wasted your time.” She turned and walked toward the door.

“Alesha?”

He spoke her name softly, almost caressingly. She felt it run down her spine like soothing, exciting fingers of desire—the sensation stopped her in her tracks. She prayed he would stop being so informal with her because the way he said her name—intimately, for her alone—was destroying her. How could a man’s voice stroke her in forbidden places so forcefully that she wanted nothing more than to be utterly immersed in him?

She was about to walk out. However, despite his better judgment, he didn’t want her to go. What was it about Alesha Robinson that had always sent his blood simmering and then, just as quickly, boiling out of control?

She turned turbulent eyes on him. “We don’t have anything else to say to each other.”

“You started this, Alesha.” He arrogantly lifted an eyebrow before deliberately adding, “And I’m going to finish it.”

“We’re done.”

She turned to leave again, not just because he annoyed and angered her, but because there was something about Derrick Chandler that was setting off small explosions of awareness within her entire body. Her legs felt wobbly and her heart ached for something that had once been within her grasp and now seemed light-years away. She needed some air; she had to get out of here before she made a complete fool of herself.

“What if I told you that I wouldn’t press charges against your brother?” His unexpected words halted her departure.

Had she heard him correctly? She turned and her puzzled gaze encountered his.

“What did you say?”

“I think you heard me.”

“Don’t toy with me.”

An arrogant half smile turned up the corners of his mouth at her chastising tone.

“I never play, unless I choose the game and am assured of victory.”

She believed him. He was a man used to getting his way—always, except once with her. She slowly walked back until she was standing in front of his desk again.

“So you’re serious about letting Robert off the hook?”

“Yes.”

Something in his tone worried her, yet she stood her ground. She had the feeling she would regret her next question, but she had to ask it.

“What do you want in return?”

He stood and slowly walked until he was standing in front of her, so close that their bodies were almost touching. She resisted a strong impulse to turn and run or take the few steps necessary to bring them breast to breast. She faced him unwaveringly as she waited apprehensively for his response.

His eyes roamed over her from head to toe. His blatant inspection made her feel as if she were a piece of prime meat he was preparing to devour with that wicked mouth of his. Her heart began to beat erratically, not from fear, but from another emotion just as strong.

“Something only you can give me.”

“Which is what?” She tilted her head up his tall frame, staring at him uneasily.

He continued to subject her to his slow scrutiny, his eyes lingering long on her moist, slightly parted lips, before lifting to meet her eyes once again. His thorough examination was more disquieting than anything she could have imagined he would say. However, his next words proved her wrong.