Her Tycoon Lover: On the Tycoon's Terms / Her Tycoon Protector / One Night with the Tycoon

So he couldn’t suggest she come to San Francisco to visit her friends Susan and Robert. “I can’t believe I didn’t meet you somewhere in the city during those years,” Luke said.

“I kept a very low profile. First I was studying like a fiend, then I started dissociating myself from Donald and his friends.” She shrugged restlessly. “I should have left him months before I did. But one of my great-aunt’s precepts was to believe the best of everyone until you had evidence to the contrary. I guess I kept looking for the best in Donald. He wasn’t altogether bad—he could be very witty, and not unkind, as long as I didn’t interfere with his plans.”

“Not much of an endorsement,” Luke said dryly. He wanted to ask what sex had been like for her; and found he couldn’t get his tongue around the words. He was jealous, he thought incredulously. Jealous of a dead man.

She said in a low voice, “I finally found out about his ventures on the wrong side of the law, and that was the end of it. I should never have married him! But even now, I hate to think of the way he died. That someone hated him enough to kill him.”

“You’re a good woman, Katrin,” Luke said.

“Not really,” she muttered. “When I came back here, I felt so battered and ashamed. I couldn’t tell people about the trial, I just wanted to put it behind me. So all I said was that I was widowed. Only Anna knows the real truth.” She ducked her head. “I lied, in effect.”

“You looked after yourself,” Luke said strongly. “The trial was no one else’s business.”

“I suppose.” Picking at a loose thread in the sleeve of her sweater, her eyes downcast, Katrin said in a strangled voice, “So now what do we do, Luke?”

The sixty-four-thousand-dollar question. “Have you made love with anyone other than Donald?”

She shook her head. “I’ve been wary of men ever since I left San Francisco. And on Askja, there’s not a whole lot of choice.”

Knowing he was ridiculously pleased by her answer, making no move to touch her, Luke said, “I’ve got a suggestion. Hear me out and think about it before you reply.”

She nodded, looking very wary. Luke said evenly, “Let’s spend the night together. Here. Then in the morning I’ll drive back to the airport and we’ll go our separate ways.”

Her lashes flickered. “And what will that accomplish?”

“There’s something going on between us, we both know that. This way we can have the best of two worlds…find out what it is without any messy complications.”

“Without any emotions, is that what you mean?”

“Without us getting entangled in a relationship neither of us wants!”

“You have it all figured out.”

“You can say no, Katrin,” he said in a hard voice.

She glared at him, tilting her chin. “I’m not going to do that.”

“So is that a resounding yes?”

“You don’t want a resounding anything!”

“At least I’m honest about it.”

“There are times,” Katrin said trenchantly, “when you make me extraordinarily angry.”

“Yes or no,” Luke said.

“Yes,” she blurted.

The bravado died from her face. She looked appalled; she looked as though she might change her mind any moment. Luke pushed back his chair with a jarring scrape of wood on wood. “Don’t look so frightened…it’ll be fine. You’ll see.” He walked around the table, took her cold hands and chafed them within his warmer ones. “Where’s your bedroom?”

“Down the hall.”

He pulled her to her feet and led the way, still clasping her by the hand. If ever there was a time for him to keep a lid on his own needs, it was now. No matter that Katrin had said Donald wasn’t unkind; Luke would be willing to swear in any court in the land that her husband had been an inconsiderate and ungenerous lover. After all, he’d seen photos of the man. So it was up to him, Luke, to undo any damage that had been done. He was used to subduing his needs; it wouldn’t be a problem.

The bedroom faced the woods behind the house, and was painted a clear green with white trim; the old-fashioned double bed was also painted white, covered with a woven throw. Luke drew the curtains, left his shoes by the wicker chair and hauled his shirt over his head. Then, casually, he put a couple of foil packets on the side table and turned to face Katrin.

She looked like the china doll on her bookshelves, stiff, immovable and wide-eyed. He wanted to sweep her into his arms and cover her with kisses. Instead Luke rested his hands on her shoulders, kneading them lightly, and let his lips wander from her cheekbones to her mouth. With infinite gentleness he dropped the lightest of kisses along its soft curve. “You taste nice,” he murmured.

“I don’t know what—”

“Hush,” Luke said softly, kissing her again, gossamer kisses that made his blood race in his veins. “Everything’ll be fine…we have the whole night just for ourselves. And all I want to do is give you pleasure.”

“But—”

He closed her mouth with his, stringently reining in his own appetites. This was for Katrin, not for him. With deliberate eroticism he slid his lips down her throat, and felt her shiver in response. Very delicately he traced the arc of her brow and the sweep of bone beneath her eye, letting his fingers slide down her smooth cheek to her lips, so exquisitely warm. With a shock of intimacy he felt the tiny puff of her breathing against his skin; and wondered if he’d be able to maintain his self-control.

Take it slow, Luke. Take it slow.

Suddenly and wholeheartedly, taking him by surprise, Katrin capitulated. With lingering pleasure, she kissed his fingers; then she cupped his face in her hands, kissing him full on the mouth. Like wildfire, the tantalizing pressure of her lips streaked through his body. Her palms moved to his bare chest, stroking it, brushing his nipples, then wrapping themselves around the taut muscles of his shoulders. Her body curved to meet his. And all the while she was nibbling at his lips with a sensual gentleness that set Luke’s heart pounding in his chest. “There’s no rush,” he muttered, and kissed her more deeply, her heated response hardening his groin.

He couldn’t afford to lose his restraint. With all the skill he possessed, Luke set about showing her that he wasn’t Donald Staines. His tongue dancing with hers, he carefully pulled the pins from her hair, so that it slid in a pale cascade down her back. Burying his fingers in its shiny weight, he kissed her throat, the line of her jaw, then her mouth again, plunging to taste its sweetness.

Her hands were probing the hard planes of his back, sliding down his spine; the press of her breasts against his rib cage set his head spinning. He struggled to slow the pace, when every nerve in his body was longing to throw her on the bed, throw himself on top of her, and bury himself within her. Because she was Katrin. Because he wanted her as he’d never wanted a woman before.

Don’t be ridiculous, he told himself sharply. She’s just a woman.

Against his lips, Katrin murmured, “I’ve got too many clothes on.”

It had been part of Luke’s plan to undress her slowly and deliberately, every move part of his seduction. But he could feel her tugging impatiently at her sweater; when he reached for the hem, his fingers met the warm, silky skin above the waistband of her jeans, and he forgot his plan in the fierce need to see her naked. He pulled the sweater over her head, tossing it on the chair. Her bra was white lace, cupping the sweet curves of her breasts, her skin like cream in the soft light from the hallway.

He almost lost it. He said hoarsely, “You’re so beautiful, you take my breath away.”

She gave a sudden laugh of delight. “I do?”

He drew her hips to his. “Indisputable evidence,” he said; and watched her lips curve in a smile in which shyness and pride were irresistibly mixed.

She was showing her feelings, he realized; and knew he wasn’t going to do the same. He didn’t operate that way. He kissed her again, determined to control the moves. To control himself as he always did.

She was fumbling with his belt. “Take me to bed, Luke,” she said impetuously. “I’m not nervous anymore, can’t you tell?”

Her eyes were a brilliant, depthless blue; her hips were swivelling suggestively against his body, in a way that made a mockery of technique and restraint. Luke reached for the metal button on her jeans, and drew the zipper down. Insensibly her eyes darkened. The pulse at her throat was throbbing against her skin. As he pushed the denim fabric down her hips, she helped him, laughing softly as it caught in her delicate lacy underwear.

He loved her laughter.

Loved it? thought Luke. What the hell kind of statement was that? He didn’t know the meaning of the word love, and had no intentions of investigating it. So Katrin had a pretty laugh. So what?

“Luke?” she whispered.