Would he be a fool to accept what she offered, or would he be a fool to refuse?
Elizabeth tightened her hold around Reece, easing her hands up his back, stroking him, caressing his tight muscles. He lowered his hands from her waist
She looked up at him with those trusting blue eyes, eyes that smiled at him, eyes that offered so much.
'You shouldn't look at a man like that. You're liable to give him ideas.'
She opened her mouth on a sigh, her lips parting. Her face bloomed with color. Her fingers bit into his neck as she lifted her arms around his shoulders. 'I want you to know that I care, that I can help you.'
She could not, would not admit that she wanted him as a woman wants a man. The feeling was new to her, far too new for her to accept the desire and allow herself to act upon
Reece could not resist the temptation Elizabeth Mallory represented. She was comfort and safety and pleasure. He wanted all three. Lowering his head, he brushed his cheek against hers. She smelled like flowers- sweet, so very, very sweet.
'You smell good, sweet Lizzie. Like roses.' He nuzzled her neck with his nose, breathing in that flower-garden scent.
'My perfume.' She breathed deeply, succumbing to the heady intoxication of his touch. Turning her face upward, she offered him her lips. 'I make my own perfume from roses.'
Never having been a romantic man, Reece was stunned at his own thoughts. Her mouth looked like a rose, opening its pink petals just for him. And her eyes, half-closed now, were as deep and dark a blue as sparkling sapphires.
His lips touched hers, tentatively at first, and then as she responded, he took her mouth with total possession, savoring the feel of her body molded securely to his. She fit him; he fit her. Their bodies had been formed to entwine perfectly. Her full breasts pressed against his chest, her feminine softness centered on his male strength, her arms claiming him as surely as his did her, and their lips mating with the fierceness of lovers preparing to join in a more intimate fashion.
Reece ran his hand down her hip, lifting up her leg, pressing her to him. Elizabeth moaned into his mouth, clinging to him, squirming against him.
'If you want to help me, Lizzie, then be my woman. Now. For today.' He kissed her again, taking both their breaths away.
She held on to him, but broke the kiss, laying her head on his chest. She heard and felt his wild heartbeat. 'I can't have sex with you, Reece.'
The instant tension in his body notified Elizabeth that he had understood only too well what she was telling him. He released her abruptly, turned and walked into the living room.
Elizabeth waited a few minutes, willing her raging senses to calm. It would have been so easy to give in to his needs and the needs of her own body. For the first time in her life she wanted to be with a man, to offer herself to him. But there was too much standing in the way, keeping them from the union of hearts and souls as well as of bodies.
She found him sitting on the sofa, bent over, his clasped hands resting between his knees. He didn't look up when she walked over and stood in front of him.
'Talk to me, Reece. Tell me about B. K. Stanton.'
'You're damned and determined to hear the whole sordid story, aren't you?'
MacDatho, who'd been asleep in front of the fireplace, reared his head, focusing his amber gaze on Reece and Elizabeth. He stretched, then lowered his bead, keeping his eyes open.
Elizabeth knelt in front of Reece, taking his hands into hers. 'My knowledge of your life is limited. I really can't read your mind, and I can't help you if I don't know what we're dealing with.'
'I don't see how you can help me, anyway, but if you want to hear my version of Reece Landry's life story, then I'll tell you. Once you've heard the truth, you may not be so eager to help me, after all.'
Lifting Reece's right hand, Elizabeth sat on the sofa beside him, entwining their fingers, giving his hand a tight squeeze. 'I want to know whatever you want to tell me.'
Leaning back on the sofa, Reece closed his eyes. He didn't want to rehash all this old misery, but his gut instincts prompted him to share his past with Elizabeth.
'My mother, Blanche, was a beautiful woman. Blond and china-doll pretty. She worked at Stanton Industries years ago. A minimum-wage job. Anyway, to make a long story short, she had an affair with B. K. Stanton himself, who was a married man with children. When my mother discovered she was pregnant, good old B.K. offered to pay for her abortion.'
Elizabeth sensed his anger. She tightened her hold on his hand. 'But she didn't get an abortion.'
'No, she decided to have me. I don't know why. All of us would have been better off if she'd just gotten rid of me.'
'Don't say that, Reece. It isn't true.'
Opening his eyes, he glanced at her and saw the tears caught in her thick, dark lashes. Sucking in a deep breath, he pulled his hand out of her grasp. 'My mother didn't have anyone to take care of me, so she had to quit work. Stanton gave her a little money so he could keep on sleeping with her. But when his wife found out about Blanche and me, she made a lot of threats. I was six years old. That was the last time my father came around. Then about a year later my mother married Harry Gunn.'
Silence hung in the room like a threatening black cloud promising a killer storm. Elizabeth shut her eyes, absorbing Reece's pain, a child's pain. In her mind she saw clearly a man's big, broad hand striking a little boy's face. The child fell to the floor, his amber eyes filled with hate.
As suddenly as the vision had appeared, it faded away. Elizabeth knew Reece had closed his mind to the memory. She tried to prize her thoughts back into his mind. She couldn't. He had, once again, safely shielded himself from his emotions.
'Your stepfather was abusive.' She made the statement as unemotionally as she could, but she could not conceal the tears escaping from her eyes.
'Yeah, he was a real son of a bitch. Knocked me and Blanche around whenever the mood struck him.' Reece placed his knotted fists atop his thighs.
'What a horrible life for the two of you.'
'Blanche died when I was twelve, and things got worse. I was fifteen before I grew big enough to defend myself properly. The beatings stopped. I found trouble everywhere I looked, and I was always looking for trouble. I've had problems with the law since I was a kid.'
No wonder Reece was such a hard man, such a loner. Elizabeth wanted to know more, wanted him to share all of his past with her. Her instincts told her that he had never told anyone else the things he was telling her.
'All those years, you knew B. K. Stanton was your father?' Elizabeth asked.
'Yeah, I knew the richest and most powerful man in town was my father. And I knew he didn't give a damn whether I lived or died.' Reece closed his eyes, shook his head and groaned. 'Damn, I wish I'd left that town-his town-before he decided to take an interest in me.'
'When was that?'
'When I was sixteen he stopped me on the street one day. Just like that-' Reece snapped his fingers '- B.K. grabbed my arm and asked me if I was Blanche Landry's boy.' Reece's stomach churned. A sour taste coated his tongue. Hot, bitter anger rose in his throat. 'He offered me a part-time job. I had quit school, and he said if I'd go back to school he'd give me a job after school and full-time in the summer. We made a deal, my old man and me. Then when I graduated high school, I joined the marines, did my time and came out determined to make something of myself. My only mistake was going back to Newell.'
'Why did you go back?'
'Damned if I know, unless...' Reece slammed his fist into the sofa arm.
MacDatho rose from the floor, watching Reece intently.
'I'm not going to hurt her, Mac,' Reece told the wolf-dog. 'You should know that by now.'
'He knows.' Elizabeth placed her hand on Reece's arm. 'You went back to Newell because you had something
