The Cutting Edge Read online

  She blew across the steaming surface of the coffee, then sipped it. “Not really. I’m a little at a loss. Would you rather not have people from the office know we’ve been out together?”

  “I don’t give a damn who knows.”

  “I know I’m being premature in worrying about it. After all, we’ve only been out twice, and that doesn’t mean—”

  “Yes, it does mean,” he interrupted, reaching for her hand. He put his hand on the table, palm up, and looked at her slender fingers as they lay across his palm. The contrast in their hands was striking, in ways besides the obvious one of size. His hands were powerful, lean and hard, with long fingers and short clean nails, his fingertips rough, his skin bronzed. Her hands were slim and delicate, the bones so fragile that her fingers were almost translucent, her oval nails polished. Her hands bore no rings.

  “Have you ever been married?” he asked abruptly, looking at her bare fingers.

  “No.”

  “Engaged?”

  She sipped her coffee for a moment before replying. “Twice.”

  His eyes narrowed. “What happened?”

  “I found out that I didn’t love either of them enough.”

  “You must have thought you did, at one time.”

  She sighed and looked away from him. She didn’t particularly want to talk about her failed engagements, which to her were almost as bad as failed marriages, but she could sense his determination to get the details out of her.

  “The first time, it was an infatuation that I took for love, that’s all. I was in college, and Will was a medical student. He wanted us to get married right away; he’d already planned for me to quit college and put him through school. I gave him his ring back.”

  He was watching her very closely, reading every nuance of expression that crossed her face. “And the second time?” he asked, dismissing Will as unimportant because he sensed her reluctance to continue.

  “Andrew,” she said slowly, somehow feeling compelled to answer him. “He did something that hurt me, and I didn’t love him enough to forgive him.”

  After several moments of silence, Brett realized that she wasn’t going to enlarge on her explanation. His hand tightened on hers. “Tell me,” he insisted. The dim light above his head turned his tawny hair into dark gold and cast shadows on his face that made it seem harder, more dangerous.

  Her hand moved restlessly in his. “I don’t believe in raking over old coals. I don’t think about it anymore. I picked up the pieces and moved on.”

  “Tell me,” he whispered, his eyes as dark as midnight.

  “He was unfaithful.” Simple words, old-fashioned words, but for her they were the epitaph for a romance. With her heart, Tessa gave fidelity, and she expected the same in return. Andrew had cheated her, promising her faith and giving her only deceit.

  Brett’s eyes brushed over her throat and shoulders and breasts, his gaze as hot as a touch. “He was a fool. Why would any man want to sleep around when he could have you in his bed every night?”

  Tessa looked up at him, and color rose in her cheeks at the way he was looking at her. Still holding her hand, he rose to his feet. “Dance with me,” he invited.

  She went willingly into his arms, grateful for the hard strength that enfolded her, for the warmth of his body. The virile impact of his masculine appeal made her tremble, but being in his arms also made her feel safe, as if his strength held the rest of the world at bay. She put her arms around his shoulders, sighing a little in contentment.

  “Did you enjoy your chess lesson?” he murmured, brushing her soft hair and temple with his lips.

  She laughed against his throat. “We never got around to it. Sammy was so excited over his new computer that he couldn’t think about anything else.”

  “What sort of new computer?”

  “Nelda. He swears it’s going to revolutionize the personal computer industry, and maybe it will. For his sake, I hope so. He has to have a small fortune sunk into all of that equipment he has in his apartment. I don’t see how he can afford to eat.”

  Above her head, Brett’s eyes narrowed as he filed that bit of information away in his memory. Automatically his arms tightened about her, pulling her closer so that her breasts flattened against his muscled chest. “Did you tell him there wouldn’t be any more chess lessons?”

  “No, there was no need. He’s so involved with Nelda, he won’t even notice.”

  “Why did you get involved with him in the first place? He isn’t your type.”

  Tessa stiffened a little in his arms. “He’s a nice man; why isn’t that my type?” She seldom bothered herself enough to take offense at anything anyone said, but she couldn’t ignore Brett. She was vulnerable to him in ways she didn’t even want to think about. Just what did he think her “type” was?

  “He’ll never be the life of the party,” Brett said coolly. “And for all his electronic genius, you could wind him around your little finger and he’d never realize it. If you had him as steady company, you’d be bored to tears within a week.”

  She stared up at him, trying to read his thoughts in his hooded enigmatic eyes. She was more than a party-girl, and she wanted him to see that, to see the woman beneath the gay and frothy facade. Did he think she was just out for a good time, that she was only attracted to people who were as comfortable socially as she was? “I’m never bored with Sammy,” she said, her voice steady, concealing the faint hurt that was welling in her. “I like him very much, whether he’s my type or not.”

  Slowly his arm tightened about her waist, pulling her so close to him that his hard body felt imprinted against her softer one. “He doesn’t matter, since you won’t be seeing him again. I want you; I’m going to have you. And I don’t share.”

  Tessa caught a quick breath at the hard, determined note in his voice. She was accustomed to being pursued, but Brett was a man who not only chased, but caught his prey. Her frail butterfly wings would be useless against his power, yet she wouldn’t feel threatened at all if she knew she could entrust herself to him. Did he want her for herself, or did he only want to conquer her because of the challenge she represented, to catch the fragile and elusive butterfly simply so he could say she’d belonged to him for a while?

  Perhaps he saw some of her doubts reflected on her face, in her clear green eyes, because he slid his hand down to boldly cup her bottom, propelling her forward to press her hips against his in a gesture so provocative and possessive that she barely stifled the startled cry that came to her lips. “Get used to it,” he drawled, and something frightening moved in his navy eyes.

  Her face burning, Tessa looked around hastily to see if anyone had seen him, but no one was paying any attention to them, and she felt her color begin to fade. The evening, which had begun so quietly, was getting out of hand. “I want to go home now, please,” she told him evenly.

  “Are you certain? It’s still early.”

  “Yes, I’m certain. I’d like to go now.”

  Perhaps she was being foolish in abandoning a public place for a private one, but Tessa felt that she could handle herself better without an audience. He wasn’t the kind of man to force a woman; she had no fear that the evening would end in a wrestling match. Even given the provocation of the way she’d kissed him the first time they’d gone out together, he’d been more understanding than she would have expected any man to be, under the circumstances. The problem was that when he kissed her, she didn’t want him to stop. Ever. And there was a sensual determination about him now that made her pulse rate increase. If he pressed the issue, would she give in? She was weak, because she wanted very much to give in; she wanted to be in his bed and give herself to him. The strong physical attraction she’d felt for him from the beginning was rapidly intensifying. She was beginning to love him, despite everything her common sense was telling her. She knew that he was a walking heartache, a man who had such a strong sensual appeal to women that he probably couldn’t even remember the names of those who had