But the joke had been on her.
Adam had been passionate, all right. Passionately excited… about the new hotel he was building in Chicago. He had led her into the bedroom, his eyes sparkling with promise… to show her the scale model of the new hotel. His voice had trembled with desire… to see this model become a reality. He'd been orgasmic… about what this latest addition could mean to his fleet of hotels. Afterward, they had talked shop over Danish and coffee which he'd had room service bring up.
Smiling wistfully over her own naïveté, Elizabeth laid her hairbrush down and turned away from the mirror. As she did so, there was a soft tap on her door. "Come in, darling," she said.
Thad Randolph stepped across her bedroom threshold and closed the door behind him. The latch clicked shut. Elizabeth stared at him, aghast.
"Who were you expecting? Cavanaugh?"
Rapidly recovering from her shock, she snapped, "Actually, I was expecting one of my children. I didn't think you'd be rude enough to go creeping through my house in the middle of the night, especially after I ordered you to leave."
"I hadn't said everything I wanted to say."
"Well, I'd heard everything I wanted to hear."
"Like how irresponsible you're being? I would have expected more out of a woman like you."
"Expected more of what? And what do you mean, 'a woman like' me? What sets me apart from every other woman?"
"Discretion. Decency. And intelligence. You know that Adam Cavanaugh is a playboy, don't you? You have no business messing with a smooth operator like him."
"He's not a smooth operator. He's a gentleman in every sense of the word."
He advanced into the room. Elizabeth got the impression that he was keeping his voice low only for the sake of the sleeping children whose rooms were at the opposite end of the hall. She also detected the smell of liquor on his breath. Apparently he'd spent his time downstairs fueling his anger with another drink.
"If he acted like a gentleman, it was only because he knew that's what he'd have to be to get you in his bed. But the only thing that separates him from the sharks who cruise the streets picking up girls is the price of his suit. Or is that what has you so starry-eyed? His money?"
"Absolutely not! I like him. He's interesting and — " It suddenly occurred to her that she didn't have to justify anything she did to Thad Randolph. One arranged date to an elementary-school Fall Festival was hardly tantamount to posting banns. She placed her hands on her hips. "What gives you the right to cross-examine me, Mr Randolph?" Then, assuming the provocative posture of a coquette, she angled her head to one side and batted her eyelashes Southern-belle style. "Or are you concerned for my virtue? Are you lecturing me for my own good?"
She had never heard spoken aloud the word he said then. It singed her ears. The vulgar expletive was particularly paralyzing coming from soft-spoken, kind Mr Randolph. That's why she was rooted to the floor with amazement when he lunged forward and caught her shoulders between his hands, shaking her slightly.
"Dammit, Elizabeth, you wouldn't know what was good for you if it walked right up and… and… oh, hell."
His mouth came down hard. It was a fiery, possessive, savage kiss that enraged her. She raised her hands to his chest and disconcertingly encountered bare skin. Despite the initial shock, she gave a mighty push.
But he wouldn't be budged. Nor would he be denied. When she tore her lips free of his and tried to avert her head, he sank all ten fingers into her hair and held her head a helpless, immovable captive between his strong hands.
"Kiss me back, damn you."
He thrust his tongue into her mouth, swiftly and surely. The violation was so absolute, so irrevocable, that it was like experiencing the breach of virginity all over again. Reflexively she arched against him. Her fingers curled inward, but barely dented the solid muscles beneath them. Her nightgown was sheer, a negligible shield against his virility. All his anger and frustration seemed to be concentrated in his thighs and lower body. They were rock-hard and unyielding as they pressed into her softness.
But more distressing than his possessiveness was her reaction to it. A wildfire of sensation radiated from the tops of her thighs to the tips of her extremities. She struggled against this involuntary response. "Stop this, please, Thad."
His answer was to sweep her up into his arms and carry her to the bed, where he unceremoniously tossed her down. This reversal of his benign personality astounded her so much she couldn't move. She lay there and stared up at him with incredulity as he angrily shoved off his shirt and went for his belt buckle.
"What are you doing?"
"That should be obvious." He unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, but didn't remove them. Instead he sauntered toward the bed. Fighting the urge to stare at the wedge of dark hair his open trousers had exposed, Elizabeth shrank from him and cowered against the headboard. Grinning triumphantly, he reached down, grasped her wrist, and hauled her to her feet so abruptly that her teeth clicked together.
He planted the heels of his hands at the small of her back, curved his fingers down over her derriere, and jerked her against him. Lowering his head, his mouth sought her evasive lips once again. When she failed to comply to his silent demands, he brought one hand around and squeezed her jaw between his fingers. His lips forced hers apart.
She moaned, first in outrage, then in helpless surrender, as his tongue slid in and out of her mouth in so sexual a cadence she felt her bones melting.
He recognized her capitulation within a heartbeat. His tongue ceased to be a plunderer and became a lover, stroking her mouth to ecstasy. By slow degrees, her struggles ceased, her body relaxed and became pliant, molding itself to his, reshaping itself to fit his steely contours.
"Elizabeth." He groaned. "Dear Lord, Elizabeth."
His open mouth moved down her neck. His hand searched for and found the buttons on her gown, but they stubbornly refused to come undone. Arousal gave him superior strength, which the daintily tucked and pleated bodice couldn't withstand. The sound of tearing cloth joined that of their ragged breathing. The nightgown dropped to the floor, creating a puff of air when it landed around her ankles.
His parted lips followed the curve of her breast. Then he lifted his head and visually devoured her nakedness. He cupped one breast in his hand and played with the dusky crest until it became stiff. Growling with gratification, he ducked his head and whisked it with his tongue, again and again, until Elizabeth clung to him for support.
He swept her into his arms. Only this time, when he deposited her onto the bed, he did so with gentleness. His eyes were alight with passion, not anger. His face was taut with desire, not enmity.
She stared up at him with wide-eyed misapprehension as he backed off the bed and removed his trousers and a pair of jockey briefs. When he lay down beside her, he was naked. And warm. And hairy. And manly. And wonderful.
He raised her hand to his lips and kissed the palm, then carried it down to his sex. He acquainted her with the dimension, the power and strength, of his desire for her. "This gives me the right to ask, to know. Did you sleep with Cavanaugh tonight, Elizabeth?"
"No. Of course I didn't."
He stared deeply into her eyes, searching for signs of mendacity, but saw only leaping arcs of desire. He impressed a hungry, twisting kiss on her receptive mouth. His sex became even fuller within her caressing grasp. He nudged her knees apart and settled himself heavily within the cradle of her thighs.
In one long, slow plunge, he imbedded himself between the stretching walls of her body. Elizabeth, thrilled with his magnificent strength, brought her knees up to accommodate him. He moaned with supreme satisfaction and buried his face in the perfumed cloud of her hair which was spread out on the pillow.