After The Music

“What happened last night?” Al asked bluntly.

She flushed and averted her eyes. “Ask your brother.”

“I did. And he said the same thing. Look, if he hurt you…”

“I think I hurt him more,” she said angrily. “I hit him just as hard as I could.”

His eyes widened. “Thorn? You hit Thorn?”

“Just as hard as—”

“I get the message. No wonder he was so icy.” He studied her. “He wants to see you.”

Her mouth dropped. “Oh, he does, does he? Did he say when?”

“In fifteen minutes. Now, before you go up in flames and say no, listen to me. I called my mother and told her I wanted to bring you to the ranch for a few days over Easter. She called Thorn and talked to him. Apparently he’s ready to back down a little. I think all he wants is to issue you a personal invitation. But if you don’t go to see him, everything’s off. Including,” he added gruffly, “my children’s hospital benefit. I can’t get another backer. Without Thorn, we’ll just have to do a one-night live concert at some theater. We won’t raise nearly enough money that soon. I haven’t told him much about the benefit. He won’t even listen to me right now.”

“And you think he’ll listen to me?” she said crisply. “And I don’t think I want to spend Easter with your family.”

“Sure you do. It’ll be great fun. You’ll like my mother.”

“I’m sure I will, but I don’t like your brother!”

He sighed. “The new hospital wing would cater to families who can’t afford proper medical care,” he said, eyeing her. “Especially children with fatal illnesses, like cancer. It would boast a research center, as well.”

Her eyes glittered at him. “Al…”

“Of course, it will eventually get built. In a few years. Meanwhile a lot of children will have to go to other cities, some won’t be able to get treatment…”

“I’ll do it, you animal,” she said irritably. “You know I can’t turn my back on any kind of benefit. But if your horrible brother tries to cut me up again, I’ll paste him one!”

“That’s the girl.” He grinned. “Get over to his office and give it to him!”

She left him to explain her departure to the band. She was just going out the door, still in costume, when she heard Ricky wail. Sabina quickened her pace and tried not to grin.

Minutes later, she paused at the door of the plush New Orleans office that housed Thorn Oil’s executive officer. Taking a deep breath, she forced her racing heart to slow down. She told herself not to let her apprehension show or give the enemy any weakness to attack. Anyway, there was no reason to believe that old poisonous Hamilton Regan Thorndon the Third might want anything worse than a pleasant chat.

She laughed to herself. Sure. He just loved having the youngest son of the family mixed up with a rising young rock star and wanted to tell her so.

With a resigned sigh, she opened the door and walked into a lavish but sleek office, where a lovely blond receptionist was typing at a computer keyboard.

“Yes, may I help you?” she asked politely, smiling at Sabina.

“I’m here to see Hamilton Thorndon the Third,” Sabina said, returning the smile. “I believe he’s expecting me?”

The blonde looked wary as her eyes examined the slender figure in thigh-high black leather cuffed boots, tight pink satin shorts with a low-cut white satin camisole and silver-beaded vest under a thin jacket. Sabina almost chuckled. The outfit was so outrageous. But she had a performance in less than an hour and no time to change clothes, so the big man would just have to see her in her working garb. Her expression darkened with worry. She had grave misgivings about this. Especially after last night. But this business was best taken care of now. Thorn was the kind of man, from all description, who wouldn’t mind walking up on the stage right in the middle of her nightclub performance to question her.

“Uh, I’ll announce you,” the blonde stammered, then buzzed the intercom. “Mr. Thorndon, there’s a…” She put her hand over the receiver. “Your name, please?”

“Tell him it’s Sabina,” she replied in the clear voice that was her trademark.

“…Miss Sabina here. She says you’re expecting her. Yes, sir.” The receptionist hung up. “Mr. Thorndon will see you. Go right in.”

Sabina was waved toward a door beside the desk. Smiling coyly at the blonde, she opened the door and poked her head in.

Immediately she regretted the lack of time to change into something more suitable. She’d have to bluff her way through. As usual.

“Here I am, your worship,” she told the man behind the desk as she closed the door breezily behind her. “Fire away, but make it fast. I’ve got a performance in less than forty-five minutes.”

He rose from the desk like a shark slicing through water, all sleek, smooth pursuit. The tan suit he was wearing did nothing to disguise the huge muscles of his arms, chest and legs. As he moved around the desk toward her, she felt his eyes sweep over her, as if she were being brushed all over with a flammable liquid.

His disposition was as cold as she remembered it. Sabina tried to block the previous night out of her mind while his blue, unblinking eyes were riveted on her.

A finger hit the intercom button. “No calls, honey.”

“Yes, sir,” came the edgy reply. Then there was silence while the oil magnate did what he was best at—intimidation.

He folded his arms across his chest and his blackened eye narrowed as he studied her graceful figure. “You do advertise it, don’t you?” he murmured with a faint smile.

“This is my stage costume. Al said you wanted to see me immediately, and I just dropped everything and rushed right over. Satin is my trademark,” she reminded him.

“So I’ve heard. How much do you want? What’ll it cost for you to promise to leave Al alone?”

“Characteristically blunt,” she remarked, eyeing him. “Have you ever found anything your money couldn’t buy? Besides that oil refinery, I mean. Obviously, it’s much more important than a little thing like Al’s happiness.”

An eyebrow jerked and the blackened eye squinted. She remembered that telltale signal, but she ignored it. “I hear through the grapevine that Al flew to Savannah to tell you about that singing engagement in my nightclub.”

“Your nightclub?” she asked. “I understood that it was jointly owned by the two of you, and your mother.”

At the mention of his mother, his body went rigid. “Al caused one hell of an argument last night. I do not want you at my ranch over the holidays. That’s the one place I don’t have to suffer women.”

Her chin lifted. “I like Al,” she told him. “And if he wants me to join him for Easter, I’ll be delighted to accept.” As she said that, she wondered vaguely why Al had invited her when Jessica had his whole heart. Was he trying to put up a smoke screen?

“Listen to me, you half-baked adventuress,” he said suddenly. “I’m not having my brother taken over by a wild-eyed rock singer with eyes for his bankbook!” Moving toward her, he reached into his vest pocket, caught her roughly by the arm, and stuffed a piece of paper into the valley between her high breasts. “You take that and get the hell out of my brother’s sight. I make a bad enemy. Remember it!”

He escorted her to the door and shoved her out of his office. “I’ll make your apologies to my mother,” he added sarcastically. The door slammed shut behind her.

The blonde stared at Sabina who stood there trembling, her face red and hot with hurt and humiliation, her eyes brimming with tears of fury. Just like old times, she thought wildly, just like my mother. She reached blindly for the check—she knew it was a check. Her trembling fingers unfolded it. It was made out to her, $20,000 worth. She stared at it for a long minute, until her face went purple.

Without a single regard for good sense, she whirled, opened the door to Thorn’s office and stormed back in. She slammed the door behind her, watching his pale blue eyes widen with shock as his head jerked up.

She had a feeling that no one had ever dared cross him before. If she hadn’t been so furious, she might have backed down, but it was too late for that now. Crossing the room with exquisite poise, she crumpled the check without looking at it, and threw it at him.

“You listen to me, you blue-eyed barracuda,” she said, her eyes flashing venomously over the desk at him. “Al’s invited me to the ranch, and I’m coming. You can take your bribe and stuff it up your arrogant nose!”

With a fierce look, he stood up and moved around the desk like a freight train barreling down a mountain.

She actually backed away, positioning herself behind the big leather sofa, her eyes widening with mingled fury and fear as he kept coming.

“Don’t you do it, Hamilton Regan Thorndon the Third,” she challenged, glaring at him. “You lay one hand on me, and I’ll have you in court so fast your head will swim!”

“It will be worth it,” he said, walking up onto the sofa, boots and all.

“You take your hands…!” she cried as he bounded over the leather back and jerked her into his arms. She never finished the sentence. He had her mouth under his, and he was hurting her.

She fought him, twisting, hitting him with her clenched hands. He backed her into the wall and held her there with the controlled weight of his body. After a moment or two, the bruising mouth relented a little and stopped demanding. It grew unexpectedly gentle, and as his hips pressed deeply against hers, she felt the sudden impact of his masculinity and caught her breath. He lifted his devouring mouth a breath away, and his hands slid down her waist to her hips, holding her as his eyes met hers. His chest rose and fell roughly, brushing her sensitive breasts.

“You’re hurting me,” she said unsteadily.

“And frightening you?” he asked quietly as he saw the apprehension in her eyes.

“Yes,” she confessed.

He let her move away a little, so that the shocking evidence of his arousal was less noticeable. Her heart stopped pounding so feverishly. “Do you make…a habit of chasing women…over sofas in your office?” she asked breathlessly, trying to keep her sense of humor.

He didn’t smile, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “No. Most of them have the good sense not to challenge me.” He let her go with a rueful laugh. “On the other hand, I’ve never had a woman arouse me the way you do.”

She averted her face to the window, trying to fight down the blush that was forming there.

“So I can’t buy you off, is that what you’re telling me?” he asked, moving away to his desk to light a cigarette.

“Chapter and verse,” she proclaimed.

“There are other ways,” he said, smoking quietly as he watched her smooth the hair his hands had angrily disheveled.

“Like seducing me?” she challenged, facing him. “No way. I’ll never let you that close a second time.”

“A third time,” he corrected, and a faint gleam touched his eyes. “If you come out to the ranch, you could find yourself in a difficult position. Ask Al how I react to a challenge.”

She didn’t need to. She already knew. “You just want to choose Al’s wife, is that it? You want him to marry a woman who would work to your advantage, of course, not his.”

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