Chapter 13

Vince McMahon was interesting to talk to. I liked the man, who seemed
to have the same kind of steel in his makeup as Mark. All too soon, he
went upstairs to his room. Brenda followed with a sigh.

"Like Vince," she told me and Glenn, "I am beginning to feel my age a
little. Good night children"

Glenn challenged me to a game of gin.

"You'll just beat me again," I pouted.

"I'll give myself a ten-point handicap."

"Well...just a couple of hands."

He held out a chair for me at the small table. "Sit down."

I smiled across the table. "Why can't Mark be like you? Friendly, and
easy to get along with and fun to be around..."

"He used to be, when you were younger. It's only since you've started
growing up that you think he's changed."

I stuck out my tongue. "I don't think, I know. He growls at me all the
time."

"You light the fires under him. Like tonight."

"I don't like her."

"And the feeling seems to be mutual. I don't think attractive women ever really like each other. But I have an idea that her dislike stems from your own. You've hardly been friendly to her."

"You're right. I haven't." I began.

"Trying to get back at Mark?"

"My arsenal is limited when it comes to fighting your brother."

He laid down the cards in sequence. "That goes for all of us."

"I don't see why I can't have an apartment. I can get a job and pay for
it."

"A job doing what?"

"That's the problem. Finishing school didn't prepare me for much of
anything. I know I'll advertise to be a rich man's mistress. I'm
qualified for that."

"Don't you dare say that around Mark while I'm in the room he'll think I suggested it."

I couldn't help but laugh at the expression on his face. Glenn was such
fun and such a gentleman. I was fonder of him than I liked to say. He
was truly like the brother I wished I'd had. But Mark...I turned
my attention back to my cards.

I was so caught up in the game that I forgot the time. I was one card
short of winning when all of a sudden I heard the front door open and I
froze in my seat.

"Oops." I murmured.

Glen grinned. "Sounds like they're home." He said as Melissa's
high-pitched voice called good-night from the staircase.

Before I could reply, Mark, looking big, dark, and formidable, came in
the room. He glanced at us as he slung his jacket onto a chair and
tugged his tie loose, tossing it carelessly on his jacket.

"Have a good time?" Glenn asked slyly. My eyes couldn't miss the smear of lipstick just visible on Mark's shirt collar.

Mark shrugged. He went to the bar and poured a glass of whiskey.

"Uh, I think I'd better get to bed." Glenn said gauging Mark's mood.
"Good night all."

"I think I'll go up, too," I began hopefully rising as Glenn made his
quick exit to the hall.

I was only a step behind him when Mark's voice stopped me with my hand
on the knob.

"Close the door." he said.

I started to go through it.

"From the inside," he added in a tone that was vaguely threatening.

I drew in a breath and went back into the living room, closing the door
reluctantly behind me. I leaned back against it, flashing a nervous
glance at him.

"Did you have a nice drive?" I asked.

"Don't beat around the bush," he growled. His angry eyes slid down my
body in the velvet dress with its side slits and plunging neckline, and
I felt as if his hands were touching my bare flesh.

"Vince's gone to bed. He's very nice." I murmured. I'd seen Mark in
plenty of bad tempers, but judging by the control I read in his face,
this one was formidable. The courage I'd felt earlier dissolved now
that I was alone with him.

"So is his daughter. Not that you've taken the trouble to find out."

"She bites."

"So do you, honey," he replied, lifting his glass to his lips. "I want
the truth, Jaime. Did Glen buy that dress?"

"No. That is, he signed for it because I don't have a charge account,
but Brenda said herself that I needed some new clothes."

"I said the same thing. But I hadn't planned on your dressing like a
prostitute."

"It's the style, Mark!"

"Almost exactly the same words you used after the party. And I told you
the same thing that I'm telling you now. A dress like that raises a
man's blood pressure by five points while it's still on the mannequin.
On you..." He let his eyes speak for him, dark and senseous as they
seemed to caress me.

"Melissa was wearing less," I replied, feeling the heat in my cheeks.
"I could almost see through her dress."

"Throwing stones? Your breasts are barely covered at all." Mark pointed out, causing me to wrap my arms around me.

My face went hot under the words, and I glanced at him. "Oh, all right.
I'll never where the silly dress again, Mark. But I can't see what
difference it makes to you what I wear."

His eyes narrowed, and his hands tightened on the thick glass. "Can't
you?"

I squared my shoulders. "You're just being a tyrant." My hands slid
over my hips as I lifted my face. "What's the matter, Mark, do I
disturb you?" I challenged. "Would you rather see my wear my gym suit
from high school."

He set the glass down on the bar and walked toward me, his eyes blazing, his face hard. I saw the purpose in his eyes and panicked, grabbing for the doorknob. But the action was too late. He caught me and whirled me around with rough, hurting hands to hold me struggling against the door.

I stared up into the face of a stranger, and my voice caught in my
throat. "Mark, you wouldn't...!" I burst out finally, frightened by what I read in his dark eyes.

He moved, and his big, warm body crushed me against the door. I felt
the pressure of his hard, powerful thighs against me, the metal of his
belt buckle sharp in my stomach. There was the rustle of cloth against
cloth as his hands caught my arms and stilled my struggles.

"Oh, wouldn't I?" he growled, as his eyes dropped to my lips.

Stunned by the sight of his dark face at such a disturbingly close
proximinity, I looked up at him helplessly until he suddenly crushed my
soft mouth under his, forcing my head back under the pressure.

I kept my mouth tightly closed, my body trembling with sudden fear at
what Mark was asking of me. I stiffened, struggling instinctively, and
his mouth twisted against mine to hold it in bondage, his teeth nipping
my lower lip painfully.

A sob broke from my throat as I yielded to the merciless assault that was years beyond my few experiences with men. Nothing that had gone before prepared me for the adult passion I felt in Mark and it sparked a response that was mingled fear and shock. This was no boyfriend
assaulting my senses. This was Mark. Mark, who taught me how to ride.
Mark, who drove me to cheerleading practice and football games with Jen. Mark, who was a confidant, a protector and now...

He jerked his head up suddenly, surveying the damage to my swollen,
bruised lips, my red eyes , flushed cheeks, and disordered hair.

"You're...hurting me" I whispered. My fingers went to my dropping
breasts, nervously as tears washed my eyes.

His face seemed to harden as he looked down at me. His breath came hard
and fast. His eyes glittered with emotions.

"This is what happens when you throw that sweet body at me." he said in
a voice that cut. "I warned you before about flaunting it, and
you wouldn't listen. Now, maybe I've managed to get through to you."

I drew in a sobbing breath, and the tiny sound seemed to disturb him.
His eyes softened, just a little as they wandered over my face.

"Please let me go, Mark," I pleaded in a shaken whisper. "I swear, I'll
wear sweatpants and sweatshirts for the rest of my life."

His heavy brows drew together and he let go of my arms to lean his hands on either side of my head against the door, pushing back a little to ease the crush of his powerful chest and thighs.

"Afraid?" he asked.

I swallowed hard, nodding, my eyes mesmerized by his.

He let his eyes move down to my swollen, cut lip as he bent toward me
again. I felt his tongue brushing very softly against it, healing,
tantalizing and I gasped again- but this time, not in pain.

He drew back and caught my eyes. The expression there was one of
curiosity, uncertainty. I met that searching gaze and felt the breath
flow out of my body. My heart went wild under the intensity of it. I
wanted suddenly to reach up and bring his dark head back down again, to
feel his mouth again. To open my lips and taste him. To kiss him
hungrily, and hard, and feel his body against the length of mine as it
had been, but not in anger this time.

His jaw went rigid. His eyes seemed to burst with light and darkness.
Then, suddenly, I was free. He pushed away from me and turned to walk
back to the bar. He poured himself another whiskey and paused long
enough to put a litter brandy into a shot glass for me before he moved
back to the door where I stood frozen and handed it to me.

Wordlessly, he caught my free hand and drew me back to his desk with
him. He perched against it holding me in front of him while I nervously
sipped the liquid.

He threw down his own drink and put first his glass then mine aside. He
reached out to catch me by the waist, drawing me gently nearer. He
stared down at me for a long time before he spoke, in a silence heavy
with new emotions.

"Don't brood," he said. Mark's voice was gentle and soothing. "The tactics may have been different, but it was only an argument. It's over."

I pretended to calm but I didn't feel it, and some of the tension went out of my shocked body. "It doesn't sound very much like an apology," I said.

One eyebrow lifted. "I'm not going to apologize. You asked for that
Jaime, and you know it."

I sighed. "I know." My eyes traced the lines of his chest. "I didn't
mean to say what I did."

"All you have to remember, little innocent one is that verbal warfare
brings a man's blood up. You can be provacative without even realizing
it." He shook me gently. "Are you listening?"

"Yes. You...I didn't think that you..." I stopped trying to find the
words.

"There's no blood between us to protect you from me, Jaime. I react
like any normal man to the sight of a woman in a revealing dress, Glenn
could have lost his head just as easily."

I felt my heart pounding and caught my breast. "Perhaps," I whispered.
"But he would have been...gentle, I think."

He didn't argue the point. His big, warm hand tilted my face up to his
quiet eyes. "Another of the many differences between me and Glenn,
young Jaime. I'm not a gentle lover. I like my women...practiced."

"Do they get combat pay?" I asked with a smile as I touched the cut on my lip.

His lips turned up, and his dark eyes sparkled. It was as if there had
never been a harsh scene to alientate us. "It works both ways, honey.
Some women would have returned the compliment, with interest."

"Women...bite men?" I asked in a whisper, as if it was a subject not
fit for decent ears to hear.

"Yes. And claw, and scream like banshees."

"I...I don't mean then. I mean when...oh, never mind, you just want to
make fun of me. I'll ask Glenn."

He chuckled softly. "Do you really think he's ever felt that kind of
passion?"

I shrugged. "He's a man."

"Men are different." he reminded me as his eyes trailed to my lip. "Poor little thing, I did hurt you didn't I?" he asked gently.

I drew away from him and he released his hands to free me. "It's all
right. As you said I did ask for it. You're...very sophisticated."

"And you're a delicious little innocent. I didn't mean to be so brutal
with you, but do want to impress on you what you invite from a man with
a dress like that. I've got a low boiling point and I do recall warning
you."

"I didn't think you were serious."

"Now you know better."

"And better. I'm taking back every dress I bought while there's still
time."

"Jaime, don't be ridiculous," he growled. "You know what I meant. I
don't want you wearing dresses with necklines cut to the waist, that's
all. You're still much a child to realize what you could be letting
yourself in for."

I turned to the door with great dignity. "I'm not a child anymore Mark.
Am I?"

He turned away, bending his head to light a cigarette. "When does that
writer get here?"

"Tomorrow morning." I watched him walk to the window. His broad back
toward me. "Aren't you going to tell me to call it off again?" I asked, testing him, feeling a flick of danger run through me.

He started at me across the room. "At least I won't have to worry about
you sneaking off to go to that convention with him while he's under my
roof. And he'd have his work cut out to seduce you, from what I've seen
tonight."

"That's what you think!"

He only laughed. "Before you bounce off, hugging your attractions to
your bosom, you might remember that I wasn't trying to seduce you. You
ought to know by now that my taste doesn't run to oversexed adolescents. Not that you fall in that classification. You're green for a young woman just shy of the twenty-first birthday."

That hurt, even more than the devastating taste of him as a lover.

"Jeff doesn't think so."

He lifted his cigarette. "If I had his limited experience, I might
agree with him."

"What do you know about his experience?"

"You didn't think I'd let you go away with him and his hair brained
sister without checking him out did you?"

"You don't trust me?"

"On the contrary, I trust you completely. But I don't trust men."

"You don't own me," I cried.

"Oh, go to bed before you set fire to my temper again."

"Gladly," I returned. I went out the door without even a good night and
then lay awake half the night worrying about it.