he were with her now, discussing matters the way he should be, Lindy knew exactly what he’d say to her. He’d tell her she was grateful. She was, but it was far more than gratitude she felt toward Rush. He’d taken her wounded heart and breathed new life into it. He’d let her feel again when her every nerve ending had been numb, and her very existence had seemed pointless.
She couldn’t stop thinking about how perfect she’d felt in his arms, her breasts flattened against his broad chest, her nipples hard and erect. Just the memory was enough to stir her senses back to life. That brief time with Rush had produced an incredible range of new awarenesses. His kiss had been warm and tender, his lips lingering over hers as though this moment and place were out of time and meant for them alone.
His tender touch had brought with it the sweetest, most terrible yearning to be loved by him. Completely. Totally. Lindy didn’t need anyone to tell her that when Rush Callaghan gave his heart to a woman, she would be the most incredibly fortunate female alive.
Lindy had just begun to scratch the surface of his multifaceted personality. Over the years, Rush had built several thick protective layers around himself, and Lindy had only managed to peel away the top few, to gain a peek inside. But she believed with all her heart that underneath he was sensitive and strong, daring and bold, and yet in some ways almost shy.
In time, Rush would realize she knew her own mind—and her own heart. In no way was she rebounding from Paul. Her former fiancé had actually done her a big favor, although it had been difficult to recognize it at the time. Paul was weak. Blinded by her love, she hadn’t seen it before. Paul didn’t possess the principles Rush did, either. Rush, on the other hand, was noble, reliable and completely trustworthy. Lindy would stake her life on it. Her judgment had been poor once, but she’d learned something from Paul, and although the lesson had been bitterly painful, she’d been an apt student. She knew an honorable man when she saw one. And Rush Callaghan fit her definition to a T.
Still awake at midnight, Lindy bunched her pillow in half and rolled onto her stomach. She might as well climb out of bed and wait for him as toss and turn all night. She’d no sooner made the decision to get up when she heard the front door open.
Relieved, Lindy smiled and eagerly threw aside the blankets. She slipped her arms into the sleeves of her robe and headed out her bedroom door, impatient to talk to him.
Rush was just coming down the hallway.
“You’re home,” she greeted, not even trying to disguise her pleasure. It wasn’t one of her most brilliant statements, but she didn’t care.
He grumbled something that she couldn’t make sense of.
“You didn’t need to leave, you know.”
“Yes, I did.” He kept as far away from her as space would allow.
“Rush, we need to talk.”
“Not now.”
“Yes, now,” she insisted.
“You have to go to work in the morning. Remember?” he argued, and rubbed his hand wearily over the back of his neck. “And for that matter so do I.”
Lindy took a step toward him, and stopped. The cloying scents of cheap perfume and cigarette smoke clung to him like the stench of an infection. Shocked, Lindy tensed and braced herself against the wall to avoid getting any closer to him than necessary. She felt as though he’d driven a stake through her heart, so violent was the rush of pain. Rush had left her arms, scoffed at her timid efforts at lovemaking and gone to another. Someone with far more experience than she.
She glared at him through wide, angry eyes. “You’re disgusting.” She spat the words vengefully with all the vehemence her heart could muster. Then she whirled around and returned to her room, slamming the door with such force that the picture of her family on the dresser tumbled to the carpet.
Rush didn’t bother to follow her and Lindy was glad.
She was trembling uncontrollably when she sank onto the edge of her mattress. The honorable man she’d been so willing to place on a pedestal possessed clay feet. Clay feet and a clay heart.
Lindy may have slept at some time during the long night that followed, but she doubted it. She was so furious she couldn’t allow herself to relax enough to sleep. She had no hold on Rush, she realized. There was no commitment between them. A few kisses were all they’d ever shared, and yet she wanted to throttle him.
Apparently she wasn’t as apt a student as she’d thought, and she didn’t know which had disappointed her more—Rush’s behavior or her own inability to judge men.
* * *
Rush heard Lindy tossing and turning in her room long after he’d retired to his own room. He knew what she believed and had purposely let her go on thinking it, hoping she’d forget this silly notion about letting a romance develop between them. That had been his original intention. But when he’d seen the flash of pain in her eyes, he knew he couldn’t go through with it. Unfortunately Lindy wasn’t in any mood to carry on a levelheaded conversation, he’d decided. He’d explain things in the morning.
Rush had gotten out of the apartment as soon as he could following dinner, afraid of what might happen if he stayed. The truth of the matter was that it had taken every damn bit of restraint he’d possessed to walk away from Lindy. The cold beer he had nursed in a sleazy waterfront bar was small compensation for his considerable sacrifice.
His biggest problem was that he believed every word he’d said to Lindy. She was vulnerable right now. Vulnerable and trusting. A lethal combination as far as Rush was concerned. If he loved her the way she wanted, she’d wake in the morning filled with regrets. Rush couldn’t do that to her. Hell, if he was honest, he couldn’t do it to himself. He wasn’t so much a fool not to recognize that loving Lindy once would never be enough. A sample would only create the need for more. Much more.
The simple act of kissing and holding her had nearly defeated him. When she’d leaned up and brushed her lips over his, his body had fired to life with a heat that had threatened to consume him. It had demanded every part of his considerable self-control not to lift her into his arms and carry her into his bedroom.
The sweet little witch must have known it, too. She’d pressed her softness against him, fully conscious of what the intimacy was doing to him. And then she’d paused and looked up at him, her eyes wide and trusting and filled with such delectable love that it was more than a mere man could resist. He’d kissed her until he’d felt her weak and trembling in his arms. He had no idea what had stopped him then, but whatever it was, he was grateful.
Escape had been his only alternative, and he’d left the apartment when he could. He didn’t want to be in the bar, but after a brisk walk there hadn’t been anyplace else he knew to go. A woman who often loitered there had strolled up to his table, sat down without an invitation and tried to start a conversation. Rush had glared at her and told her wasn’t in the mood for company. Apparently she’d taken his words as a challenge and before he could stop her, her arms were all over him.
Rush didn’t realize the scent of her sickeningly sweet perfume had stayed with him until he saw Lindy’s look of complete disgust.
He was going to settle that matter first thing in the morning.
* * *
It was with a sense of righteousness that Lindy snapped a rock-music tape into her cassette player and turned it up full blast. Tapping her foot to the loud music, she wove the hot curling iron through her hair and waited. Within a couple of minutes, Rush staggered into the bathroom, apparently having just awakened, looking as if he intended to hurl her portable stereo out the living room window.
“Is that really necessary?” he shouted.
With deliberately slow movements Lindy turned down the volume. She regarded him with wide, innocent eyes. “What did you say?”
“Is that god-awful music necessary?”
It gave her a good deal of pleasure