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however willing she had been in his bed, he had been the one who talked her
into sharing it.
For the first time, he began to realize that their mutual history was not as
one-sided as he had always thought. Scarcely aware of his actions, he placed a
hand on her neck, squeezed it gently, and said,  I'm sorry, Maddie. Apologies
didn't come easily to him; perhaps that was because he made them with such
painful sincerity.
Madeleine turned her head and looked at him in surprise. He studied her face.
It was the face she didn't like to show anyone: distressed, weary, vulnerable.
And, to his amazement, a little messy. He smiled. She had smudged her eye
make-up when she'd run a hand across her face.
Seeing his expression, she frowned.  What?
 You've got a black smudge now. He stilled her hand as she scrubbed at her
cheek.  Leave it there. I
like it.
 You have very odd taste, Ransom.
 Especially when it comes to women.
She laughed ruefully.  Touche. I was right; you pricked me, after all.
 What?
 Never mind. Look, how about a ceasefire until morning?
 Okay. About tomorrow what time do you want to leave?
 Eight o'clock?
 That's fine by me.
 Good.
 Okay.
 Okay.
They ran out of words then, but the silence was speaking. Her scent. His heat.
Her soft sigh. His tension.
Their eyes met. The gentle whir of the overhead fan, the soft give of the
mattress beneath them, and the shadows of a tropical night reminded them
both with sudden, crashing intensity of the night that had so impetuously
wreaked havoc on each other's lives.
Ransom drew in a sharp breath, suddenly there again, except that he had been
so long without her. So very long...
God, to touch her again. To hold her and kiss her and bury himself in her. To
hear her sighs, her murmurs, the deep moan of her satisfaction. To feel her
caresses, her skin against his skin, her hand in his, her cheek against his
shoulder, her legs entwined with his...
It would be worth his job, his career, his self-respect. Right now, it seemed
worth the next billion years in purgatory. Hungry for her, for her warmth, for
the sweetness of her kiss, he found himself leaning toward her, his lips
parting in anticipation, his heart pounding as the rich blue of her eyes
darkened with sudden
passion and her breath caught shakily.
 Nooooooo!
Her cry was shrill and quavering as she slid off the bed, staggered away, and
tripped on something. Filled with predatory heat, he shot to his feet, ready
to go after her.
The tears clouding in her eyes stopped him. Cold.
He couldn't even breathe.  Maddie? His voice sounded strangled.
She swallowed. Looked away. Looked back.  Go. Please, go.
 I 
 Go!
No command in her voice now. No icy authority. Just panic. And something else,
too. Fear.
Of him?
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ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
 Go... she breathed harshly.
Feeling as if she'd just gutted him, he turned and went.
CHAPTER NINE
Ransom realized the moment he saw Madeleine the next morning that she was
going to be her most
Madeleinesque today. Her silk dress and little matching jacket were pale blue,
so pale that she looked like she was encased in polar ice. Her facial
expression was so cool it could have frozen water. She couldn't have been more
distant if she'd been on the moon. And her unfailing, unruffled courtesy got
on his nerves within twenty minutes. God, the woman could be aggravating when
she put her mind to it!
He got the message, all right. Hands off. It couldn't have been any clearer if
she had written it across her perfect, uncreased forehead in fire-engine-red
lipstick; not that he supposed Madeleine would be caught dead owning such a
vulgar color.
He'd spent half the fucking night (or, rather, the non-fucking night) worrying
about her. What was she afraid of? Was she afraid of him? Had he upset her
with that sudden, unforeseen burst of desire? Was she afraid of being
unfaithful to Preston? Afraid of incurring Ransom's contempt if they slept
together again?
He'd spent the other half of the night castigating himself. He knew now that
she'd been tired, depressed, and unaccustomedly tipsy the night he'd met her.
Defenses down. Judgement impaired. In need of company and comfort. In need of
things she normally didn't acknowledge, he figured, and vulnerable to emotions
she normally kept locked away and hidden.
Okay, so she shouldn't have skipped out on him like that. But hadn't he
overreacted, at least a little? He winced with shame when he thought of the
things he'd said to her in her office a couple of days ago. He'd never spoken
to a woman like that before, whatever the provocation. Hell, who could blame
her for being afraid to sleep with him again after that? Who knew what insults
she was afraid he would let fly the morning after? Sex needed a little trust,
and why should she ever trust him again?
Well, that kind of thinking made sense at four o'clock in the morning. But
now, sitting in an elegant
conference room in a Montedoran bank, grouchy from a sleepless night and
buzzed from too many cups of coffee, Ransom glared at Madeleine's back and
called himself a soft-headed chump. He'd been willing to trust her again last
night, hadn't he?
 No, Madeleine said calmly to one of the three bankers meeting with her in
this high-ceilinged, air-conditioned, paneled room.  That's not what I've
calculated, based on the interest rates you quoted me.
Ransom saw the three men exchange a glance. One of them left the room while
the other two smiled charmingly at Madeleine. The oldest banker leaned forward
and suggested they go over it again. Ransom almost sneered at him. After what
Madeleine had said last night, it was pretty easy to see now that these men
had looked at her pretty blonde hair and her gorgeous legs and her long-lashed
eyes and had thought they could hoodwink her and get some extra profit on this
deal, if the ranch sold. She'd eat them for lunch if they weren't careful.
No, not Madeleine, he realized. She was much too subtle for that. She had her
own methods, equally effective, and the younger banker was starting to sweat
in the cool room. Ransom grinned wolfishly at him.
 Yes, Madeleine said.  Let's go over it again.
Okay, okay, Ransom was honest enough to admit that having a sudden and
entirely unexpected erection probably impaired his judgement as much as a few
drinks impaired Madeleine's. Maybe trust wasn't precisely what he'd been
feeling when he reached for her last night. Still, she hadn't been immune to
him.
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