"Calm down. I'm not going to tell anybody that I beat you."
"You didn't!"
"Only because you refused to finish the match like the spoiled brat you are."
"You weren't playing tennis," she shouted.
"The points you scored were scored by playing badly, not well. You were making a mockery of me and of the sport. Your game had nothing to do with talent, skill or finesse." Wanting to drive the next point home, she turned her head to look at him. "The same goes for your writing."
He brought the car to a jarring stop in front of the house. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"You figure it out."
Leaving her things in the car, she got out and bounded up the porch steps. They hadn't bothered with locking the front door. She sailed through it and headed for the stairs. She had almost reached the top when Judd, taking the steps two at a time, caught up with her and grabbed hold of her braid.
"Ouch! Let go of me."
"Uh-uh. Not until you explain that last crack about my writing. What do you mean by saying that I lack talent and skill, etcetera?"
"I didn't say you lack them. There's just no evidence of them in your column."
"I graduated with a degree in journalism, remember?"
"What you print every day isn't journalism, it's gossip," she said, warming to her topic.
"Anybody with an inferiority complex and an ax to grind could write what you do. So could anybody who wanted to avoid a real job by boozing it up every night and calling it research. Not to mention the womanizing."
"I haven't touched a drink since we got here.
And as for womanizing…" He encircled her waist with his arm and yanked her hard against him. "I haven't done any of that since I left Dallas, either."
"Let me go."
"No way, baby. I've earned this kiss."
His mouth came down hard upon hers. She resisted by bowing her back, which only brought her up harder and higher against him. She tried to free her lips, but he captured her jaw in one hand and held her head steady while his tongue plumbed her mouth repeatedly.
Their breathing was harsh and loud in the otherwise silent house. The sounds of strenuous denial that Stevie uttered deep in her throat diminished to whimpers of desire. Her hands, which had been trying to push him away, began clutching handfuls of his damp tennis shirt. She angled her head, giving his lips better access to hers. Her tongue joined his in love play.
He raised his head suddenly and peered into her wide, dazed eyes. "Stevie?"
"What?"
Taking her hand, he slid it down his body and pressed it against the distended fly of his tennis shorts. "It wouldn't be fair of you to start something you don't intend to finish, would it?"
She shook her head and reflexively squeezed the rigid proof of how much he wanted her. "Oh, God." Groaning, he gave her another searing kiss.
Pent-up frustration erupted in an explosion of sexual desire. Their arms wrapped tightly around each other. Their kisses were carnal, ravenous.
Still clinging to each other, they stumbled into the nearest bedroom, his. Blindly he reached for the switch of the ceiling fan. It began to rotate over their heads and cast flickering shadows on the walls as they worked off shoes and bent to remove their socks. They bumped heads but barely noticed in their haste.
He whipped his T-shirt over his head. Stevie did the same. He reached for the front clasp of her bra and unfastened it, shoving the lace cups aside. He touched her briefly, feathering her nipples with his fingertips, making them instantly stiff.
Eyes trained on them, he unzipped his shorts and let them drop. Stevie shrugged off her bra and removed her shorts. Judd, with some difficulty and a near-comical grimace, removed his jock strap.
Stevie couldn't bring herself to glance down, though she wanted to. She hooked her thumbs into the elastic of her panties, but couldn't bring herself to take them off, either. She looked up at him with silent appeal.
"That's good enough for now," he whispered taking her hand and pulling.her toward the bed.
He lay down on his back and pulled her on top of him. Cupping her head between his hands, he gave her a long, thorough kiss, sending his tongue deep into her mouth. His legs sawed restlessly against hers. One knee insinuated itself between her thighs and worked its way up until she was riding it.
With one hand, he began tugging her underpants down over her hips. Then he rolled her onto her back and removed them completely. His eyes swept her hungrily. His hands skimmed the surface of her body, touching her breasts, nipples, thighs, the cluster of curls covering her mound.
"Stevie," he mumbled thickly before levering himself above her and pressing his face into the cover of her shoulder.
"Judd?"
"Yes, sweetheart, right now.'
"Maybe you should know-"I do know, baby. Believe me, I do.' "I'm a virgin."
His head popped up. Eyes that had been foggy with passion came into sharp focus as instantly as a high-tech camera.
"A what?"
Even after she repeated the word, he stared at her with patent disbelief. Slowly he eased himself up, rolled over to his side and sat on the edge of the bed, keeping his back to her.
"God, I wish I hadn't quit smoking."
He rested his face in his hands, digging into his eye sockets with the pads of his fingers. Eventually he peered at her over his shoulder. She had self-consciously pulled the bedspread over her.
"How did you wind up a virgin?" She gazed at him with puzzlement. "I'll rephrase. Why, how, are you still a virgin?"
"Maybe you should have finished what you started in Stockholm."
"With Presley Foster breathing down my neck? No thanks. Did he scare off all your would-be lovers?"
"In fairness to him, no. I did. Not overtly," she added when he gave her a curious look. "I just never took the time to let anything develop.
Potential boyfriends always took second place to tennis."
"Second place isn't a healthy or desirable spot for a man's ego."
"So I discovered." She moistened her lips nervously. "I wouldn't have told you if I'd known you were going to stop."
"I wouldn't have gone so far if you had told me sooner."
"Does it matter that much?"
He laughed hoarsely, humorlessly. "Yeah, it matters. A lot."
"Why? I don't think it would have mattered in Stockholm."
"Maybe, maybe not. But in Stockholm I was young and stupid. Now I'm old and stupid. At least when you're young and stupid you've got an excuse for being stupid."
Stevie closed her eyes briefly, then she stretched out her arm and laid her hand on his bare shoulder. "Please, Judd, comeback."
Keeping his eyes averted, he stubbornly shook his head no. "I can't assume that responsibility, Stevie."
"It doesn't come with obligations."
"They're implied."
"Not to me."
"Tome."
"Please."
"I said no."
A small, strangled sob escaped her.
Judd's head snapped around. He saw her tears, saw the pleading in her eyes. Apparently they touched him in a way her temper tantrums could not. The resolution keeping his lips compressed and uncompromising deserted him. His features softened.
He lay down beside her again and drew her against him. "Don't cry, Stevie. Don't." Typically a cynic where women's tears were concerned, he held her close and kissed her brow with commiseration.
She nuzzled his naked chest, rubbing her face against the pelt of crinkling hair. "Please, Judd, make love to me while I'm still whole. I want it to be you."
Why?"
"Sentiment, maybe. Even though you doubt it, I know it would have happened in Stockholm if Presley hadn't stopped us." She touched his nipple with the tip of her tongue, licking it deftly, and pressed her palm against his hot, swollen flesh.