Double Standards Read online

  "Of course you do—anyone would! She walked out on you, then practically before your eyes lavished her attention on her next son…"

  "Stop it," he teased, "or you'll have me in tears."

  With quiet gravity Lauren said, "I was crying for the boy you were then, not for the man you are now. Despite everything that happened—no, because of it—you became a strong, independent man. Actually, the one to pity is your half brother."

  Nick chuckled. "You're right—he's an ass."

  Lauren ignored his humor. "What I meant was that you've succeeded on your own, without wealthy parents to help you. That makes you a bigger man than your half brother."

  "Is that why I'm bigger?" he joked. "I always thought it was in my genes. You see, my father and grandfather were both tall…"

  "Nick, I'm trying to be serious!"

  "Sorry."

  "When you were young, you must have dreamed of becoming as rich and successful as your mother's husband and her son."

  "Richer," Nick confirmed. "And more successful."

  "So you went to college and got your engineering degree," Lauren concluded. "Then what did you do?"

  "I wanted to start my own business, but I didn't have enough money."

  "That's a shame," Lauren said sympathetically.

  "That's also enough of my life history for now," he finished evasively. "We're almost home."

  8

  « ^ »

  The warm closeness that had developed between them as they sailed back was still enfolding them as they dined by lantern light on the cedar deck suspended out beyond the bluff.

  "Don't bother," Nick said quietly when Lauren stood with the intention of clearing the china and crystal from the table. "The housekeeper will take care of it in the morning." He picked up a bottle of Grand Marnier and poured some liqueur into two fragile glasses. He handed her one, then leaned back in his chair. Raising his glass to his lips, he contemplated her over the rim.

  Lauren rolled the stem of her glass between her fingers, trying to ignore the atmosphere of expectation that was hanging over them. Her time was running out; Nick had satisfied their physical hunger, and now he was lazily preparing to satisfy their sexual hunger. She could see it in the way his possessive gaze lingered on her delicate features as she sat across from him, and in his warmly intimate smile when he spoke to her.

  She raised her glass and took a fortifying swallow of the orange-and-cognac drink. Any moment he would stand up and take her inside. She glanced up as he lit a cigarette. In the flickering glow of the lantern, his dark handsome features seemed shadowy and almost predatory. A chill that was part fright, part excitement danced up her spine.

  "Are you cold?" he asked softly.

  Lauren quickly shook her head, afraid that he would immediately suggest they go in. Then she realized he must have seen her shiver, and she added, "I mean I was a little chilly just then, but it's so lovely out here I can't bear to go in yet."

  Several minutes later Nick stubbed out his cigarette and moved his chair back from the table. Lauren's heart lurched. She drained her glass and held it toward him. "I'd like a little more."

  She saw a flicker of surprise in his expression, but he obligingly poured more Grand Marnier into both their glasses, then he lazed back in his chair again, openly watching her.

  Lauren was too jumpy to either meet his gaze or endure it. She stood up, smiled shakily and walked over to the edge of the deck, gazing across the black lake at the lights twinkling in the hills. She wanted to please him always, and in all ways, but what if she failed tonight? Nick was so alarmingly virile and blatantly experienced that her virginity and inexperience might seem like a nuisance to him.

  Nick's chair scraped against the wooden deck, and Lauren heard him approach, stopping right behind her. He put his hands on her shoulders and she jumped. "You're cold," he murmured, drawing her back against his chest and wrapping his arms around her for warmth. "Is that better?" he asked, his lips against her hair.

  The imprint of his legs and thighs pressing against her seemed to rob Lauren of the power of speech. She nodded, and then she trembled uncontrollably.

  "You're shivering." His hands shifted to her waist, and he turned her with gentle insistence toward the house. "Let's go inside where it's warm."

  Lauren was so nervous that she didn't realize the sliding glass doors Nick led her to were not the ones that opened into the living room until she stepped inside and found herself in a luxurious bedroom decorated in shades of caramel, white and brown. She stopped in her tracks, her eyes on the huge king-size bed across the room. She heard Nick close the glass door with a final, deathlike thud, and her whole body tensed.

  His arm slid around her waist from behind, drawing her rigid form against him. With his other hand he brushed away her heavy silken hair, exposing her neck. Lauren's breathing became shallow and rapid as his lips touched her nape, then drifted tantalizingly toward her ear, while his hands began moving lazily over her midriff, sliding upward.

  "Nick," Lauren protested inanely, "I—I'm not at all tired yet."

  "Good," he whispered, while his tongue sensuously traced the folds of her ear. "Because it's going to be hours before I let you go to sleep."

  "What I meant was—" Lauren gasped as his tongue plunged deeply into her ear, sending warmth spreading through her limbs. Weakly, she leaned back against him and felt the bold evidence of his rising passion pressing against her. "What I meant," she clarified shakily, "was that I'm not ready for… for bed yet."

  His deep voice acted on Lauren like an aphrodisiac. "I've waited an eternity for you, Lauren. Don't ask me to wait any longer."

  The meaning Lauren read into those words banished her last doubts about how deeply he really felt about her, and about the rightness of what she was doing. She made no move to stop him when his hands slipped under her velour top, but when he removed it and turned her in his arms to face him, her heart was racing like a mad thing.

  "Look at me," Nick coaxed softly.

  Lauren tried to lift her eyes to his and couldn't. She swallowed convulsively.

  Sliding both hands into the sides of her hair, Nick turned her face up to his, his mesmerizing gray eyes gazing deeply into hers. "We're going to do this together," he said quietly. Taking her hand, he placed it against the front of his shirt. "Unbutton my shirt," he urged gently. Somewhere in the chaotic turbulence that was her mind, Lauren realized that Nick apparently thought she was hesitating because her other less experienced lovers hadn't taught her the proper preliminaries for lovemaking, and that he was now trying to coach her.

  Lauren's curly lashes flickered down, casting shadows on her flushed cheeks as she did his bidding with fingers made clumsy by a mixture of panic and joy. He deftly unhooked her lacy bra, and she slowly undid each of his buttons, unknowingly heightening his excitement by her slowness.

  Her fingers moved of their own volition, pushing his shirt open, exposing his bronzed, muscular chest. He was so beautiful, and he was hers to touch, Lauren thought, so intoxicated with the knowledge that she scarcely noticed when he slipped her bra off her arms.

  "Touch me," Nick ordered hoarsely.

  She required no more urging and no more instruction. Guided by love and instinct, she slid her hands sensuously through the dark hairs of his chest, and leaned forward to kiss his hard, muscular flesh. A shudder ran the length of his body at the first brush of her lips, and his free hand sank into the soft hair at her nape, tilting her face up to his. For a moment he just gazed at her, his eyes smoldering with the desire he was holding back, and then he bent his head.

  His lips were warm and exquisitely gentle at first, tasting and shaping hers. And then they slowly parted, and his tongue began to explore her mouth with a languorous hunger that drove Lauren mad with pleasure.

  She arched against him, her hands gliding over his bare chest, and he lifted his head. His flaming gray eyes burned into hers, seeing his own desire reflected in their blue depths. He drew a labor