Lady Love

“Mother!” Cameron growled, scowling down at her.

“And who is this?” asked an icily polite voice from behind Lila.

“Merlyn Forrest, my research assistant,” Lila obliged. “Merlyn, you’ve met Delle, of course, and this is Charlotte Radner. Delle’s mother.”

“Research assistant?” Charlotte laughed softly, but her eyes were as icy blue as a winter storm. She was dressed elegantly herself, in a floor-length blue dress that clung to her willowy figure. Her hair must once have been blonde, but now it was white with one of those blue rinses on it.

“Merlyn is helping me research the Plantagenet and Tudor periods for a book I’m working on,” Lila offered. “Although we’ve almost definitely settled on the Tudors. The background is so interesting.…”

“I’m sure it is, dear,” Charlotte said, sounding bored, “but a great many people have no taste for history, you know.”

“It’s so dull,” Delle added, clinging to Cameron’s sleeve. “I’d rather talk about polo. Cam, are you coming down for the match next week?”

He shook his head. “I’ve got too much to do. There’s a board meeting on a new budget.”

“You never stop working,” Delle complained. “Work, work, work. Why don’t you come out from behind that desk and into the world? You used to play polo, I remember watching you.”

“You’d have been in pigtails back then, I imagine?” Merlyn asked with a smile, noting with wicked pleasure the anger on Charlotte Radner’s patrician features.

“Delle is quite mature for her age,” Charlotte said coolly, curtly motioning her daughter to silence when she started to reply. “And has exquisite taste in clothes.”

Merlyn spread her poncho. “And my lack of it shows?” she challenged.

Charlotte’s manner wouldn’t let her enter into an insult match. “My dear, I meant no offense,” she said formally.

“Of course not. You wouldn’t be so ill-mannered as to point out the obvious difference between your daughter’s clothing budget and my own,” Merlyn said.

Mrs. Radner gave her a hard glare, and Cameron’s dark eyes began to glitter.

“Weren’t you just leaving, Miss Forrest?” he asked, emphasizing every cold word.

“Why, yes, I was,” Merlyn agreed with a grin. She tossed her dark hair like a young filly about to bolt, and her green eyes glanced off his flirtatiously. “See you.”

He was openly glaring now, and Delle was giving him funny looks. She moved closer, holding on to his arm as if he might be keeping the house from sinking.

“Have a good time, Merlyn,” Lila called after her.

“I’ll try to be in by two or three at the latest,” Merlyn replied mischievously, with a glance toward Cameron, who’d already told her to be in by midnight. He started to say something, but before he could, Merlyn was out the door with a cheery, “Good night!”

It was a relief to breathe fresh air again. Delle was just a child, obviously infatuated with Cameron. But her mother was something else, and she held the reins on her daughter. It looked to Merlyn as if Cameron was slowly digging his own grave.

But she didn’t feel the least bit sorry for him. He was cold and domineering and obviously deserved every damned thing he would get. She didn’t like him. He was all the things she resented in a man. Just the thought of him made her bristle.

She walked around Lakeshore Mall for a couple of hours, haunted the B. Dalton store there, sighed over the latest computers at Radio Shack, and had supper in a charming little restaurant with hanging foliage and an uptown menu. Then she drove to the Holiday Inn, checked in, and spent the night watching movies on cable TV.

***

It was nine o’clock the next morning when she drove her little red Volkswagen into Lila’s driveway and parked it beside Cameron’s elegant black Lincoln. She glared at the larger vehicle. Black. It figured. He didn’t have the personality for flashy red sports cars.

She dragged herself out of the car, still wearing the clothes she’d worn the day before (she’d slept in her underwear) and went into the house.

Lila glanced up as she entered the dining room, smiling with something like relief. “Good morning, dear, have you eaten?”

“Not yet,” Merlyn replied, with a general smile for the rest of the people at the table. Apparently Amanda was sleeping late again, but Cameron’s guests were there, as elegant in pantsuits as they had been in dresses the night before. They looked as disapproving as Cameron did.

“What a lovely time I had,” Merlyn sighed. She sat down beside Lila and smiled at Tilly, who poured her a cup of black coffee and pushed the platter with the buttered toast within her reach. “I hope you didn’t worry?” she asked Lila.

“No, dear,” Lila said with an amused smile—because she already knew that Merlyn didn’t trust men and that she hadn’t really spent the night picking them up.

“I was just having too much fun to come back,” Merlyn sighed, munching on toast and washing it down with coffee.

“In my time,” Mrs. Radner said coldly, “decent young women didn’t carouse all night. Even at the age of twenty, Delle is not allowed to be out past midnight.”

“You’re only twenty?” Merlyn exclaimed, staring at Delle. “And you’re…forty-five, isn’t it?” she asked Cameron with pretended innocence.

“I’m thirty-nine,” he said coldly.

“Nineteen years.” Merlyn shook her head, glancing at Delle. “You poor child.”

Cameron slammed down his napkin. “Miss Forrest…!” he began furiously.

“Do call me Jane, all my friends do,” she told him and pursed her lips in a playful kiss.

His cheeks had a dull layer of red over them, and she was glad she wasn’t alone with him.

“Cameron isn’t old,” Delle defended him, touching his hand lovingly. “He’s in his prime. And so masterful!”

Merlyn sputtered into her coffee and almost choked. Cameron glared at her openly, clenching his fists on the table until the knuckles went white.

“My, you’re in a good mood this morning, Merlyn,” Lila said. “I must go with you on your next night out.”

“Lila!” Mrs. Radner said curtly. “You shouldn’t encourage this kind of thing. God knows, there’s enough immorality in the world.”

“Spending the night alone in a Holiday Inn is immoral?” Merlyn asked, recovering from her lapse. Her dark eyebrows lifted as she stared at Mrs. Radner. “How?”

The older woman looked stunned. She faltered, searching for words. “I assumed…”

“Miss Forrest,” Cameron began again, and his black eyes glared holes in her, “you were asked to be in by midnight.”

“No, I wasn’t, Mr. Thorpe. I was ordered to be in by midnight,” she retorted. “I don’t respond well to orders, even when they’re given by exciting dark men.”

“Cameron,” Delle interrupted, “don’t you think…”

“Keep out of this, Delle,” Cameron replied curtly, as if a mere woman’s comments weren’t worth listening to.

Delle meekly inclined her head toward her plate, and Merlyn glowered at Delle. “Are you going to let him talk to you that way?” she burst out. “My goodness, you don’t have to sit there and take orders like a family pet!”

Delle looked shocked, but her expression was nothing compared to Cameron’s. He threw down his napkin as if it were a gauntlet.

“That’s enough,” he told Merlyn, and his voice was like deep, icy water. “That’s more than enough.”

“You said it, honey,” Merlyn replied with a contemptuous laugh as she got to her feet, oblivious to Charlotte’s glare and Lila’s smothered grin. “I’d choke having to eat beside a male chauvinist like you. If you’ll all excuse me, I’m going to freshen up.”

She got up with a general nod in the direction of the guests and went upstairs.

“Male supremacist, sitting there like the first Caesar,” she muttered, stripping off her clothes and coiling her long hair up under a borrowed shower cap as she went toward the bathroom. “And that simpering child sitting there, lapping it up!” she hissed. She turned on the water and stepped under it, quickly soaping herself and as quickly washing off the lather. She grabbed a towel and dried herself, ripped off the shower cap and shook her hair dry. Cameron had made her furious enough, but that Charlotte Radner had really set her temper on fire. Snob! How dare that woman make such assumptions about her? Of course, she had to admit that she’d deliberately begun to give the wrong impression. But she was probably worth twice as much as the Radners, and she hated being put down. If this was how poor people lived, it wasn’t very pleasant. It made her think. Which was probably what her father had intended from the beginning, she thought angrily. And again she wondered if he had more than a nodding acquaintance with Cameron Thorpe. He couldn’t have picked a better adversary for her if he’d spent his life searching. Then she realized she was on the wrong track. Her father would have been in search of a soul mate for her, not an adversary.

She walked back into her bedroom, sleek and elegant in her nudity, her high breasts in perfect proportion to a body that was sensuous and graceful and unconscious of its own power. And as she walked into the bedroom, Cameron Thorpe walked in the door.

Her eyes widened. So did his. They went over her like dark fingers, tracing every soft curve, every long line, with an intensity that froze her into position like a nymph caught bathing.

“Damn you!” she whispered as sanity returned. She dived for the silky blue coverlet, and jerked it around her. Her face went blood red. No man had ever seen her without her clothes, not even that jackass she’d been engaged to. There had been very little more than kissing between them, in fact, which was one thing that had led to her suspicion that her money was the attraction for Adam, not her body. Or her heart.

“How interesting,” Cameron murmured, watching her reaction as she shrank against the post of the canopy over her wide bed. He closed the door behind him with a hard thud and went toward her.

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