The Tender Trap

“Not all men—just overbearing macho ones like you. My stepfather made my mother his slave. Wouldn’t let her have a career. She had no life of her own, no income, no way to escape him. He made her totally dependent on him and loved having her beg him for every...” Blythe gulped down her anger at the same time she tried to wipe the tears from her eyes. Her hand trembled. “Raymond was a real son of a bitch!”

Adam reached down, touching her cheeks with his fingertips, brushing away the dampness of her tears. “Do I remind you of your stepfather?”

“Yes!” Blythe shook her head. “No, not really. It’s just that you’re a big man, very masculine, very handsome, and... and women seem to adore you. You’re an old-fashioned, macho guy. Raymond was like that.”

Adam couldn’t remember a time in his life when he’d felt as protective of anyone as he did Blythe at this precise moment. He wanted to gather her into his arms, hold and comfort her, make her feel safe and secure. “Don’t confuse me with your stepfather. All men aren’t bastards. Surely you’ve discovered that fact by now. It’s not like there haven’t been men in your—”

Another loud blast of thunder drowned out the sound of Adam’s voice. Gasping, Blythe grabbed Adam around the waist, clinging to him.

He stroked her short hair, the dark auburn strands beneath his hand like heavy, cinnamon silk to the touch. “It’s all right, babe. I’m here. I’ll take care of you.”

Blythe froze the moment she heard his declaration. Glaring at him, she eased her arms from around his waist and punched him in the chest with her finger. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me!”

“We all need somebody to take care of us,” Adam said. “Women need men. Men need women. Needing someone isn’t a weakness, you know. A real woman knows how to give and take.”

She lifted her hands, gripping the lapels of his jacket, staring up at him, her eyes pleading with him—she did need something from him, but Adam wasn’t sure what.

Slowly, he cradled the back of her head with his palm, roaming his other hand down her neck, bringing her body closer to his. He looked into her green-flecked hazel eyes and was lost. Diamond teardrops glistened in her thick reddish brown lashes. Her full, pouty lips opened slightly as she breathed in and out. The sprinkling of tiny freckles across her nose beckoned him to kiss each pale copper dot.

Blythe Elliott was utterly enchanting.

Hell, what was he thinking? What was he doing? Loosening his hold on her, Adam took a step backward.

“Adam?” Blythe felt lost without him, without the touch of his fingers in her hair, the support of his hand on her back. She didn’t want him to release her. She’d be alone again. So very alone.

“I’H drive you home.” He turned to leave the room. “I’ll get someone to bring your car over to your apartment in the morning.”

Although he had his back to her, Blythe nodded her head. She stood frozen to the spot by the bed for a few minutes, waiting while Adam walked out into the hall. She picked up her purse, hung it over her shoulder and followed him.

“I can drive myself home.” She couldn’t understand the overwhelming urge she had to ask him if she could stay with him. I don’t want to go, Adam. I want to stay here with you. I want you to...

“If you drive yourself, I’ll worry about you,” he said.

When they neared the front door, Adam flipped the light switch, throwing the room into semidarkness. Only the fluorescent light over the bar area remained on. He opened the door, stood to one side and waited for Blythe. She walked outside, hesitating momentarily at the wrought iron gate that opened directly onto the private drive behind the condos. He placed his hand on the small of her back.

Then he realized, too late, that he shouldn’t have touched bet. He didn’t want her to leave. He wanted her to stay, to spend the night in his arms.

“You don’t have to leave, you know.” He spread his fingers open wide, touching her lower back and the upper curve pf her buttocks. “You could stay.”

Turning slowly, she stared up at him and saw the undisguised raw passion in his brown eyes, eyes so dark and deep they appeared black. “Do you want me to stay?”

“Yes, I want you to stay.” He growled the words.

She swallowed hard, wondering if she’d lost her mind. “This is crazy, Adam. We’re crazy. You want me to stay, and... I want to stay”

Sweeping her up into his arms, he lowered his head and claimed her lips in a kiss of total possession. She clung to him, returning the kiss with eagerness. Taking her back inside his condo, he closed the door behind them and shut out the reality both of them had momentarily forgotten.

He carried her into his dark bedroom. A faint, gray light shimmered in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Shadows fell across the gold-and-black striped coverlet, wavered on the golden cream-colored wall and encompassed the room in a seductive quiet.

Adam laid Blythe down on the bed, then stood over her, staring at her. Suddenly she felt very small and totally helpless.

“Adam, maybe we’re—” She started to say that maybe they were making a mistake, a big mistake, but before she could finish the sentence, he leaned over and kissed her. His mouth was hard and hot and moist.

She returned the kiss, draping her arms around him and trying to drag his body onto hers. Even though she had never made love with a man, she wasn’t totally inexperienced. She’d felt passion before, had known what it was like to want a man, but nothing had prepared her for this uncontrollable need.

He came down over her, kissing her until she couldn’t breathe, until she thought she’d die from the pleasure of being so completely consumed. He slipped his big hand beneath her, seeking and finding the zipper pull at the back of her dress. Easing open her lavender linen dress, he lifted her body just enough to insert his hand inside the waistband of her lace half-slip.

When he delved his hand inside her lavender bikini pant es and made contact with her naked buttocks, Blythe groaned against his marauding lips. He nuzzled the side of her neck and whispered her name. She trembled. He sighed.

He brought her hand to his shirt, encouraging her to unbutton it. Slowly, hesitantly at first, she began to undress him while he tugged her dress off her shoulders and down to her waist. All the while, he kept touching her, kissing her, talking to her.

“You’re so little, babe. So delicately made. So fragile. I don’t want to hurt you.”

She threw his shirt on the floor, then drew in a deep breath when she looked at his wide, naked chest. Heavily muscled, covered with dark curling hair, his body beck oned her touch.

“You’re beautiful,” she said, then laid her hand on his washboard-lean stomach.

Adam sucked in his breath. His sex hardened. He lifted himself up and off the bed, then divested himself of the remainder of his clothes.

Blythe had never seen a fully aroused man, but she didn’t hink all men looked like Adam Wyatt. He was big, deeply canned, powerfully built and overwhelmingly male. She swallowed hard, and for one split second wondered if she was woman enough for such a man.

But the moment he lay down beside her and took her in his arms, all doubts and uncertainties vanished like snow melting in the warm sun.

“I want to look at you,” he told her when he unhooked the front closure of her lavender bra.

She nodded her head, wishing she was more experienced. How long was it going to take him to figure out that this was her first time? And if he did, would he stop? If he called a alt to things now, she didn’t think she could bear it.

He spread the bra apart and gazed down at her small, firm breasts. “Perfect,” he said, then covered them with his hands, gently kneading them, circling her nipples with his palms.

She shivered. Her femininity tightened. Lowering his mouth, he teased one nipple while he stroked its mate to a point between his thumb and forefinger. Lifting her hips off the bed, she slid her arms around his waist and pressed herself intimately against him.

His mouth and hands moved over her swiftly, taking a speedy inventory of every luscious inch from face to toes, as he discarded the remainder of her clothes. Blythe succumbed to her own desire to fondle him, to discover the secrets of his manhood. They explored each other with a hunger neither could deny nor restrain. The fever burning hot inside them blazed out of control.

“I can’t wait.” He panted the words against her breast. “Next time, we’ll go slower. I promise.”

Blythe ached with such a wild need, she made no protest when he mounted her and sought entrance into her body. She was surrounded by him. By the bulk of his massive shoulders. By the aura of masculine power he possessed. By his hot, musky smell, his hypnotizing black eyes and the mesmerizing tone of his deep voice.

“I want you,” was all she could say.

She was warm and moist and willing, her arms holding him close, yet her body resisted his invasion. She was tight, so very tight. And he was on the verge of exploding. He had wanted her so badly, for so long, that being inside her was his only goal in life at this precise moment.

Lifting her hips, he thrust into her, then stopped when he realized the truth. He’d thought she was experienced, that she’d had a legion of lovers.

A hot, searing pain pierced her. Blythe gasped, tears filling her eyes. The pain didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, except making love with Adam.

He partially withdrew from her. “Why didn’t you tell me, babe?”

She bit her bottom lip, then swallowed her tears and reached up to caress his face. “Because I wanted you, and I was afraid that if you knew, you—”

He silenced her with a kiss, plunging his tongue into her mouth at the same moment he delved deeply into her body, taking her completely. She groaned into his mouth, wanting the discomfort to end, but not wanting him to stop.

He coaldn’t make it last, couldn’t take the time she needed, couldn’t give her complete pleasure this time. He took her quickly, wild with the need. His climax rocketed through him like blasts of dynamite. When the last aftershock subsided, he slid to her side, wrapped her in his arms and kissed her gently.

Cuddling against him, she felt joyous at having given Adam such intense pleasure, and yet she felt bereft, wanting to experience that same earth-shattering ecstasy.

“The next time will be for you. All for you,” he said. “I was too hungry for you, wanted you too desperately to make it perfect.”

He caressed her hip while they lay together in each other’s arms. He thought about all the things he was going to do to her, all the wonderful things he was going to teach her. The first time, he’d lost control. The first time, she’d been a virgin.

Adam jerked upright in bed. Blythe laid her hand on his back. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Are you all right?”

The realization that he hadn’t used a condom hit him square in the gut. How the hell could he have been so stubid? He always took the proper precaution. Not once since his divorce had he made love to a woman without protec tion.

“I’m okay,” he said, lying down beside her and pulling her into his arms. “Everything’s fine.”

When he made love to her again—and he intended to make love to her all night—he’d make sure he didn’t take any more chances.

Two

“Mr. Wyatt, there’s a Ms. Blythe Elliott here to see you sir.” Sandra Pennington’s voice sounded a bit shaky, and that was unusual for the formidable middle-aged woman who’d been Adam’s secretary for the past ten years. “She insists on seeing you immediately.”

Blythe Elliott? Here? At his office? Insisting on seeing him? Would wonders never cease?

Adam’s stomach tightened into knots. What was she do ing here? They hadn’t been together in over two months—not since the night they’d both lost their senses and made love like a couple of wild animals who couldn’t get enough of each other.

Just the memory of that night aroused Adam. And the last thing he wanted was to get hot and bothered remem bering what it had been like becoming Blythe’s first lover Damn, he’d thought she was experienced, and he’d gotten the surprise of his life.

When he’d awakened the next morning, Blythe was gone only the scent of her remained in his bed. He’d tried calling her. She’d hung up on him time and time again. He’d gone to her apartment. She’d slammed the door in his face. He’d cornered her at her Petals Plus florist, only to be told that she hated him and never wanted to see him again.

It had taken him more than one try before he finally got the picture. Whatever had happened between them the night of little Melissa Simpson’s christening had been an aberration, a fluke, a chance happening. Adam had accepted that fact and moved on with his life. At least he’d tried to move on. He had wined and dined several lovely ladies over the last two months, but every time the mood turned serious, he’d see a pair of big hazel eyes looking up at him, he’d hear those sweet little sounds of pleasure Blythe had made when he’d taken her, and he’d feel those small, fragile bones, that soft, sleek freckled flesh he’d caressed the whole night through.

“Tell Ms. Elliott to come in.”

Should he stand? Should he remain seated? Should he be friendly or act nonchalant? Should he ask why she was paying him a visit or just say it was good to see her?

Remaining seated, he leaned over his desk and rested his clasped hands in front of him.

She swept into the office like a tiny whirlwind, her straw bag clutched to her side, her chin tilted defiantly, her gaze riveted directly to his face.

Whatever her reason for coming to his office, Adam’s gut instincts told him this was no social call. It was a confrontation.

Blythe looked even prettier than he remembered. Her short cinnamon red hair shone with a healthy vibrance. Her skin had tanned a rich gold, her freckles darkened to muted copper dots on her nose, cheeks and shoulders. She wore a yellow miniskirt, a matching peach-and-yellow polka-dot blouse and a pair of small gold hoops in her ears.

“If I’m interrupting something, I apologize,” she said. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.”

“Sit down, Blythe. Tell me why you’re here.” Of all the women he’d known over the years, why was this little hellion the only one he’d been unable to walk away from and forget? Because she’d been a virgin? Because he’d carelessly forgotten to use protection the first time they’d made love?

She sat tensely on the edge of the white leather-and-chrome chair to the left of Adam’s huge, black metal desk. Easing her purse into her lap, she clutched it as if it were a lifeline.

“Would you like some coffee? Or tea? A soft drink?” What was wrong with her? he wondered. Why was she so nervous?

“No, nothing. Tanks.”

“How have you been?” he asked.

“I’ve been just fine. How about you?”

“No complaints,” he said. “Look, it isn’t that I’m not glad to see you, but your visit comes as quite a surprise. Two months ago, you refused to see me. You wouldn’t even talk to me on the phone. I have to admit that I’m curious as to why you’re here today.”

Oh, this was going to be more difficult than she’d thought. Adam was being nice. Not too nice, but nice enough. After the way she’d treated him, he had every right not to speak to her. But what should she have done? Good grief, they had made a monumental mistake—the biggest mistake of her life. She still didn’t know what had come over her that evening at Adam’s condo. Why, after resisting temptation for two years, had she given in that night? One minute they’d been arguing and she’d dislikes everything his powerful, macho image represented and the next thing she knew she was practically begging him to make love to her. One minute she’d wanted to run from him, and the next minute she couldn’t get close enough.

“I want you to know that I don’t hold you responsible.” Blythe lowered her eyes, not able to continue looking directly at Adam. “It was my fault. I should have known better.” She stood up. Her purse fell to the floor. “I did know better, but I’d never felt anything so powerful before. I just didn’t know how to handle wanting someone so much.”

Adam shoved back his chair and stood. “Why should we rehash that night now, after two months, when you’ve refused to see me or speak to me before today?”

Bending over, she picked up her bag and flung it in the chair she’d just vacated, then turned to face him. He seemed so distant, so in control, so much the Adam Wyatt she’d known and avoided for two years. “I’m not here to discuss what happened a couple of months ago. Well, in a way, I am. That is to say, the reason I’m here is to tell you that, well, after we... after we—”

“Made love,” Adam said.

“Yes, after we made love, I knew you would regret it as much as I did, and I realized that you’d feel responsible, even guilty because I’d been a... well, I’d been—”

“The word is virgin, babe. You were a virgin.”

“Yes, well, I felt there was no point in our blaming ourselves for something that wasn’t your fault or mine. It just happened.”

“It happened three times.” The statement was out of his mouth before he could stop himself from speaking. Damn! What was the point of reminding her? Of reminding himself?

Blythe covered her face with her hands. Blowing out a loud breath, she closed her eyes and ran her fingers through her hair. “This isn’t easy for me. Okay? It’s taken all the courage I could muster to come here today to tell you.”

“To tell me what?” he asked. “That you don’t blame me for our night of passion two months ago?”

“No, I don’t blame you. I blame myself.” Blythe balled her hands into fists at her sides. “I don’t expect you to do anything. And I’m not asking for anything. I just thought you had a right to know.”

Adam glared at her, not quite sure what the hell she was talking about, but getting a sinking feeling in his stomach. “You thought I had a right to know what?”

“I’m pregnant!” There, she’d said it. The worst was over. Or so she thought.

“You’re what?”

Adam rounded his desk so quickly that Blythe didn’t have a chance to get away from him before he grabbed her by the shoulders, his fierce grip jerking her forward. He stared at her. Her eyes opened wide as she bit down on her bottom lip.

“You’re what?” he repeated.

“I’m pregnant.”

She was pregnant! No, it wasn’t possible. Who was he kidding? Of course it was possible.

He ran his hands down her arms, clasping her wrists with his fingers. “I’m sorry, Blythe. I never meant for this to happen.”

She shrugged, tilting her head to one side, a tentative smile quivering on her lips. “I know. I told you that I don’t blame you.”

“You should!” Releasing his hold on her, he turned away, slamming his big fists down on top of his desk. “In all the years since my divorce, I’ve never made love to a woman without using protection. Not once. Not until that night. With you. The first time.”

“I didn’t use anything, either,” Blythe said, wanting to touch Adam’s back, waiting to reach out and place her hand on his massive shoulders. “I mean, I wasn’t on the Pill or anything.”

Lifting his clenched fists, he turned and braced his hip on the edge of the desk. “Well, we can’t go back and change what happened. God knows I would if I could. We’ve got to deal with the consequences, to make decisions about how we’re going to handle this situation.”

Blythe didn’t know what she had expected him to say when she told him. Deny that he was the father? Tell her it was her problem? Or had she secretly hoped he’d be happy, that he’d lift her in his arms, kiss her and tell her he loved her and wanted their child?

But Adam didn’t love her any more than she loved him. If he could go back and change what had happened, he would. He’d just said so himself. And if she could go back to that night, what would she do? Unconsciously, she slid her hand down the front of her skirt, her open palm crovering her stomach.

“I suppose you’ve considered all the options,” Adam said. Dear God, what would he do if she said she planned to have an abortion? He’d tell her she couldn’t, that he didn’t want her to destroy the child they had created together.

“Yes, I discussed options with my doctor and with Joy.”

“You told Joy? She and Craig know?”

“I told Joy yesterday. She’s the one who convinced me to come here today and tell you. She promised not to say anything to Craig until after I’d talked to you.”

“Have you made a decision?” He knew he had already made a decision about the baby. It didn’t require any lengthy soul-searching. He’d gotten Blythe pregnant. She was carrying his child. He’d marry her. That was the only honorable thing to do.

“I decided against having an abortion.”

Relief spread through Adam. His tight muscles relaxed. “Good. I wouldn’t want you to do that.”

Closing her eyes, Blythe said a silent prayer of thanks that he hadn’t expected her to dispose of their mistake.

“My doctor and I discussed the possibility of giving the baby up for adoption.” Dr. Meyers had tried to discuss adoption with her, but she’d adamantly refused. She had no intention of giving away her child.

Would she give his child to perfect strangers? Dammit, he wouldn’t let her! If Adam had to, he’d do as his father had done and raise the child by himself. “Adoption? Don’t even consider giving away my child.”

“I didn’t consider it. Not really. I’m going to have my baby and I’m going to keep her.” Blythe had decided that the baby was a girl. She couldn’t imagine herself raising a boy—some rough and rowdy little black-eyed boy who’d grow up to look just like Adam.

Adam let out the breath he’d been holding. “You’re going to keep the baby?”

“I came here to tell you because Joy pointed out the fact that, as the father, you did have a right to know.” Glancing away from Adam, Blythe reached into the chair and picked up her purse. “I don’t expect you to get involved. I’m not here asking for any kind of support.”

“Just what are you trying to say?” Standing, he grabbed her by the arm as she turned from him. “You waltz in here and tell me that you’re going to have my child, but you don’t expect me to get involved. Well, babe, you’d better think again. That’s my baby, too.” He looked directly at Blythe’s flat stomach, his fingers itching to reach out and touch her, to lay a protective hand over his child.

“You want to be involved?” She stared at him, not sure she had heard him correctly.

“Damn right, I do.”

“How is that possible, Adam? I don’t think there’s any way you and I can share a child.”

“Well, we’d better figure out a way, hadn’t we?”

She gasped when he laid his hand across her stomach. The touch was so innocent and yet at the same time so compellingly intimate.

His child. He’d given this woman his baby—and she wanted it. He smiled, thinking about Blythe referring to their baby as her. A daughter. His daughter. He liked the sound of that. His daughter.

“In what... seven months... our child will be a reality? I don’t think we should waste time on a big, fancy affair, do you? Something simple, but elegant. Craig can stand up for me and Joy can be your matron of honor.”

What? Surely she had misunderstood what he’d said. It sounded as if he were planning a wedding. “Do you expect me to marry you?”

“Of course I do. Our child isn’t going to come into this world a bastard, her mother and father unmarried.”

“But—but we can’t get married.”

“Why not?”

“We don’t love each other. We don’t even like each other very much.” Blythe eased away from Adam’s possessive hand, removing her body from his reach. “Until the night we... er...made love, we couldn’t be in the same room together without getting into an argument.”

“We don’t argue when we’re in bed together. All we do is—”

“Don’t say it! I know what happened that night. We both went crazy, but I’m not crazy now, and I know I can’t marry you. It would be wrong.”