"I was no—"
Lance pulled her tighter into his twisted embrace, and she could feel his erection at her back. Where is that guard? "Yes, I flirted with you. I'm sorry if you got the wrong idea, though. I was about to be married—"
"And then you bent over in front of me that day; you had to have known I was looking. I could practically smell your cooch from where I was. I'll bet you didn't even wear panties that day." With a quick move, he pinned both her arms with one of his so that he could reach between her legs.
Thank God I wore slacks today. That will take up some time.
"Hmm," he said. "I can't tell if you're wearing them now or not, but I'll know soon enough." His voice was thick with desire.
Good. Get as hard and needy as you can, dickhead. You'll have to kill me first.
"Everything all right in there?" There was a flash of light. The night watchman had found the door open and heard voices.
Lance released his grip, but not before warning her, "I was just kidding, of course. Don't make a big deal out of anything, or you'll be sorry."
Donna fairly ran out of the break room, greeting the guard with a big smile. "Hey! Yes, all's well. Working a little late, that's all. Listen… this late, would you be a dear and walk me out to my car? I'm a little wary of going alone."
The guard frowned as Lance came toward them. Donna could see the wheels turning in his mind and nodded toward Lance. "He would, of course, but he's going the other way and is already running late."
The guard shrugged. "Sure. No problem at all."
Only when Donna was safely locked inside her car and out onto the open street, did she breathe easily. She'd always been afraid something like this would happen, had always been careful to stay in groups, to never be caught alone in the dark… like I was on my twelfth birthday. She gasped. I've been afraid of my father all this time, but he's dead. Another very alive man had accosted her tonight. And I wasn't afraid. I knew the guard would come. She breathed a prayer of thanks.
Tomorrow, she would explain the whole thing to Worth, she decided as she drove. One less photographer at the magazine by tomorrow evening. A thought occurred to her. Should I tell Eric? Physically, he was not in the best shape for confrontation. It occurred to her that Eric's personality was naturally passive, too. She'd seen him disappointed and disapproving and concerned, but not really angry. The angriest she'd seen him was on the plane, when she told him about her father—and that was because of her age more than anything. He'd told her Lance was nothing to worry about. He wouldn't do anything, not that there's anything to do. Lance will deny it all. I can't prove anything. It's my word against his.
Unbidden, another voice spoke deep inside. What proof could you have shown about your father? Mightn't he have found a way to turn it all against you? You were just a child, making stories up because he wouldn't let you have your way.
Donna took a deep breath. Of course, she would tell Eric. But after she spoke with Worth. That would surely put an end to things.
"Are you sure you have to leave, Kris? We love having you here." Layla nursed little Angela in the rocking chair of her bedroom. Her younger sister was folding laundry on the bed, carefully putting it in a basket as she did.
"We do!" Keith called from the nearby kitchen. "You've been a tremendous help."
Kristina Myers smiled shyly. "You're sweet to say so, and I've loved it—well, I loved it when I knew you and Angela were going to be okay. Up to that point, I was terrified."
Layla switched the baby to the other side and adjusted her robe. Breastfeeding was such an intimate, satisfying experience. She never would have guessed. "Did you know that the same hormone released during orgasm is released during nursing?"
Kristina blushed and giggled quietly as she worked. "No. I suppose that explains why you nurse so often."
Layla laughed softly. It was good to hear Kristina giggle—she'd gotten so serious this past year. When she'd arrived, Layla had actually been shocked by Kristina's appearance. Formerly vivacious and outgoing, meticulous with her makeup, hair, and clothes, Kristina was now painfully quiet. Clean, but a bit disheveled. Something had happened to change her, or was it the strain of working with challenging students? She and Keith had both tried to coax more information from her during her visit, but Kristina was well-versed in deflecting questions or avoiding conflict. Plus, they'd had other things on their minds, with the baby.
"I nurse often because this wee girl is hungry all the time," Layla said, stroking her daughter's pink cheek. "Every two hours around the clock. But it really is amazing, knowing that all of her nourishment comes directly from me." The baby stopped suckling and looked up at her mother's face. "That's right, Angela. I was talking about you. You are such a pretty baby, yes, you are."
Kristina balanced the now-full basket of baby clothes on her hip, chuckling at her big sister's baby talk. "Your milk must be pure cream. Angela's getting fatter every day. I'm just gonna go put these away next door." Although Angela still slept in the room with Keith and Layla, the guest room would be transformed into a nursery soon. Already, there was a dresser bulging with hand-crocheted blankets and gowns of the softest cotton. Boxes and boxes of tiny diapers to fit a preemie were neatly stacked in the closet.
Layla stopped rocking. "I know you have to go back to school. If Angela
