Stormy Vows - Iris Johansen [42]
“I wouldn't mind,” she said hesitantly.
“Well, I would,” he said decisively. “We have two more days of shooting before the picture is finished. I can't afford to have you ill.” He took a long swallow of his drink.
“I see,” she said shakily, her doe eyes wide with pain.
“Damn!” Donovan slammed his glass down on the bar. “What do you expect of me, Brenna? You tease me until I'm almost insane with wanting you, then turn me off cool as a cucumber. And when I display a little bad temper, you look at me as if I'd slapped you!”
“I never meant to tease you,” she whispered huskily, tears brimming.
“No, I don't think you did,” he said moodily. “That's why we're having this discussion down here, instead of upstairs on that king-sized bed.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I can't figure you out.”
She shrugged wearily. “I'm not very complicated, Michael.”
“The hell you're not,” he said bluntly. “You want me, I know you do. Yet you're behaving like a frightened virgin instead of the experienced woman you are. I don't know what kind of bastard it was who messed you up like this, but if I ever meet this ex-lover of yours, I'll probably kill him.”
She almost smiled at how close he had come to the truth. She was indeed a frightened virgin. But she wasn't frightened of sex, as he surmised. She would have welcomed her first experience with delight, if she could have been assured that the joy would not turn to ashes after the first flames faded.
Donovan picked up his drink and drained it. He looked directly into her eyes, and said quietly, “Someday you're going to belong to me in all the ways there are, Brenna, and you're going to enjoy it completely!” He put the glass down on the bar and looked down at it thoughtfully. “I've been very patient for me, but I've reached the end of the road.” He looked up, and said coolly, “What I'm saying is, that after I take you home today, the gloves are off.”
She smiled uncertainly. “You pounce!” she said jokingly.
“I pounce,” he affirmed softly. He turned away, his long strides carrying him to the kitchen. “As for now, you can enjoy your temporary reprieve. The steaks should be done in about ten minutes.”
She was too tense to obey this injunction in the hours that followed. Donovan was the perfect host. He conducted an urbane and noncommital conversation that was designed to put her at ease, but only succeeded in increasing her nervousness. Despite his self-control, there was an undercurrent of restrained violence about him that was reminiscent of the rumble that preceded the eruption of a volcano.
After they had eaten the really excellent steak and salad Donovan had prepared, they had coffee before the fire. Even the glowing intimacy induced by these cozy surroundings brought no change in Donovan's demeanor, and Brenna began to relax. She should have known that Donovan always meant exactly what he said. She was safe for today.
The rain stopped late in the afternoon, and Donovan made immediate preparations to leave, indicating that he was just as eager as she to end this strained situation.
They arrived back at the residence hall well before sunset. As Donovan drew the Mercedes to a halt at the front entrance, she turned to face him, her hand on the door handle. “You don't have to come with me,” she said quickly. “I have to stop at reception to make sure Randy's all right.”
His mouth tightened. “I'll come with you,” he said decisively. “I promised to deliver you back to the cottage, and I'm going to do just that,” he added bitterly. “We both know how I value my promises.”
As she got out of the car, she realized what a ludicrous sight she must present in Donovan's outsized clothes, her long hair in two thick braids down her back. She must look about ten years old, she thought wryly.
There was no censure on the receptionist's face, as they entered the lobby. Paula Drummond's manner was almost obsequiously servile, when she noticed Donovan following closely behind Brenna.
When Brenna asked if there had been any messages from Doris Charles, the