Song Without Words Read online

  The scream died in her throat as her eyes adjusted to the light. It took her mind a few moments longer to adjust to—and accept—what she was seeing.

  The 'someone' in bed with her was Michael Sebastian. He was half-sitting up, looming over her like some diabolically sensual nightmare summoned up by her subconscious. His thick, dark hair was disordered and his heavy-lidded eyes held a disconcerting mixture of shock and arousal. The tanned, leanly muscled lines of his upper body were highlighted by the glow of the lamp, underscoring the pagan quality of his masculinity. One involuntary glance downward informed Shauna that he was wearing little—if anything at all—beneath the pro­tective covering of the bedclothes. The warmth she had been enjoying so uninhibitedly only a few moments before had clearly been the warmth of his superbly male body. It was a warmth she could still feel on the curve of one hip, where his long-fingered, musician's hand—

  Gasping, Shauna jerked away from the contact, her heart pounding. 'Don't touch me!' she hissed as she sat up, clutching the sheet against her.

  'Why not?' he enquired mildly. 'Don't you like being touched?' The shock she had detected in his jade green gaze was fading; in its place was an expression too complex for Shauna to try to puzzle out. While he appeared completely alert, there was an attractive, just-woken huskiness to his voice.

  'Don't I like—' She could barely get the question out. Please, she thought, please, let this be a dream! But even as she made the mental plea, she knew it was futile. Michael Sebastian's presence in her bed at this moment was no more a dream than the sensations she had been experiencing only a few seconds before—sensations that had left her nerve endings quivering. 'How dare you!'

  'How dare I what? Touch you? It seems to me you left yourself open to that sort of thing, Miss Whitney, by crawling into my bed—'

  'Your bed!?' For a moment, her outrage was so great she was afraid she might strangle on the furious words that were bubbling up inside her before she could get them out. A hectic, feverish colour stained her cheeks. 'I did not crawl—this is not your bed, Mr Sebastian! It's mine! You're the one who c-crawled in where you don't belong. As for liking you touching me—I'd rather let a-a-a snake slither over me!' This kind of emotional explosion was alien to Shauna, but she found it imposs­ible to react to Michael in a rational, controlled manner. That terrified her more than anything else, and it goaded her onward. 'I want you to get out! Do you hear me? Get out! If you don't—'

  'You'll scream? Call the manager?'

  'Yes!' But even as she said it, she knew something was terribly wrong. Her venomous diatribe was having no effect on him. In fact, aside from his apparent dis­orientation in the first confusing seconds, he actually seemed to be enjoying himself.

  'Terrific,' he said. Then, to her utter dismay, he smiled. 'It should be very interesting to hear you explain what you're doing in a hotel room registered in my name, sitting in a bed my company happens to be paying for.'

  Shauna felt the blood drain out of her face. What he was saying was—

  'That c-can't be—' she stammered. 'Jamie said—'

  'Jamie? What the hell does he have to do with this?'

  'I—he—' She couldn't think straight. Nothing in a decade of stern-voiced lectures from her Aunt Margaret—or in her months of independent living in Manhattan—had remotely prepared her to deal with a situation like this.

  She had to get away from him. She had to escape—

  Even before the thought was completed, Michael caught her, pinning her up against the headboard of the bed. She could feel the imprint of his fingers burning into every cell of her flesh.

  'Oh, no, my sweet little bundle of contradictions,' he said silkily. 'You can't run and you can't hide from me. I want some explanations. What about Jamie?'

  Shauna swallowed, not daring to struggle. His light­ning quick grab for her had made his nudity appallingly evident. 'I—He invited m-me up to Hartford for the concert. The Tempest concert,' she added unnecess­arily, trying to keep her gaze fixed on the bridge of his nose.

  'Jamie asked you to spend a weekend on the road with him and you end up sleeping with me?'

  Unwisely, she replied with the first thing that popped into her head. 'He said you were going to London.' Realising the way this sounded as the words came out, she went scarlet with mortification. 'Oh—'

  'While the boss is away, the employees will play—on company money?'

  'No!' He had her completely rattled now. 'I wasn't—that's not what I meant! Oh, God, what kind of person do you think I am?'

  It was a desperately unhappy question.

  There was a long pause. Michael regarded her in­tently, his dark brows drawn together. Then, abruptly, he released her.

  'What kind of person do I think you are?' he echoed. 'That, sweetheart, is what I'm trying to figure out. I suggest you avert your eyes. I'm getting out of bed and putting on my trousers.'

  Gasping at his calm audacity, Shauna none the less turned her head. She felt the mattress give as he got up. Fighting down a sudden, shocking urge to take one small glance, she kept her eyes carefully focused on the floor even after she heard the sound of a zipper closing.

  'You can look now,' he said drily. 'I'm partially dressed if not basically decent.'

  She turned back, strangely shy. He was wearing a pair of jeans that were as form-fitting as the ones he'd had on back at his apartment. He sat down on the edge of the bed.

  'OK.' He drew the word out on a sigh. Shauna realised he looked very tired. 'Let's take it from the top. You came to Hartford with Jamie for the weekend.'

  'I came up to see Tempest play a concert,' she cor­rected, trying to keep her voice steady. 'Jamie did invite me, but he said it was on behalf of the whole band. B-because of what happened last Friday in the studio.' She paused for a moment, wondering what kind of reaction that might detonate. She slanted a look at Michael, but he simply nodded. 'He said… he said it was a gesture of apology.'

  'And you believed him?'

  'Yes!' Although he didn't show it, she was certain he was laughing at her. 'Jamie's been very nice to me. A perfect gentleman.'

  'Unlike some people you could name, right?' he gibed. 'So, fine. You accept Jamie's proposition—excuse me, Tempest's invitation—and you come up to Hartford. How did you get into this particular room?'

  'With a key.'

  'The desk gave you the key?'

  'Not exactly. Jamie picked it up for me after the concert—' She stopped, her eyes widening as an awful thought struck her. 'You think Jamie arranged this?' Her voice rose starkly and she started to tremble.

  'Take it easy,' he said firmly, catching her by the shoulders.

  'You think he put me in here for you?'

  'No!' His voice was sharp. 'God, no.' There was something alarmingly introverted about his expression.

  'M-Michael?' It was such an odd look—

  He shook his head as though to clear it. 'Jet lag. I should have figured that something like this—I thought it was Dee and her pre-honeymoon haze again.'

  'I don't understand.' Bewildered as she was, Shauna was still acutely conscious of the warm curve of his palms resting on her shoulders.

  Astonishingly, he gave her a crooked grin. 'No, I don't suppose you do. And four o'clock in the morning in a hotel room is a hell of a time and place to take your education in hand.' He stroked down her upper arms then let go of her, expelling a deep breath. 'OK. Here's what I think happened. I was in London this week, just like Jamie said. But I was scheduled to fly back to the States to catch the kick-off of Tempest's tour.'

  'Then this suite—'

  'Was reserved for me, but not until Saturday.'

  'W-what?'

  'I got through early in London, so I decided to change my flight and come into Hartford earlier than planned. Unfortunately, there were weather problems at Heath­row and we were about four hours late taking off. By the time I finally got here to the hotel, I was ready to beg, borrow, or steal a place to crash for a couple of h
ours. You can imagine my surprise when the front desk hap­pily informed me they were already holding a suite in SEE's name. I assumed Dee mixed up the dates. Falling in love has had that kind of effect on her efficiency. What I think now is that my enterprising younger brother decided to piggyback you on to the company bill for tonight. What he intended to do with you for the rest of the weekend is open to speculation.' His brows quirked up.

  Shauna felt herself flush, but refused to respond to what she sensed was a deliberate attempt to provoke her. 'Then you don't think Jamie meant for you and me—?'

  He shook his head. 'As much as he has to answer for in this little fiasco, I'll acquit him of that. Of course, you aren't entirely blameless in this affair, Miss Whitney.'

  She swallowed. 'The hotel bill?' she guessed guiltily. 'I'll reimburse SEE, of course, but I—'

  'Forget the bill,' he advised tersely. 'I'm talking about the act that I was able to get into the suite while you were in it. Do you make it a habit to ignore elementary safety precautions like throwing the dead bolt and putting on the chain lock?' There was a sudden snap of temper in his eyes.

  Shauna's hand came up to her mouth. 'I didn't—'

  'No, you didn't,' he said incisively.

  'I—I suppose I wasn't thinking… but—' Her chin tilted as her air of embarrassed apology dissolved in a sudden wave of indignation. 'But you're still the one who got into bed with me!' she accused.

  'Hold it. I did not get into bed with you—at least not intentionally.'

  'Oh, really? I suppose you didn't notice me?'

  'As a matter of fact, I did not. I was dead on my feet when I got here. I dumped my bags, stripped down, got into bed, and went to sleep. I did not turn on the bedroom light. I did not see you. I didn't even feel you—'

  'You felt plenty!' she snapped rudely.

  'I'm talking about when I first—Look, Shauna, this damn bed is the size of a football field! You were probably huddled up on the right side of the mattress when I fell asleep on the left.'

  'Unfortunately, you didn't stay there,' she reminded him.

  'You weren't exactly observing strict territorial boundaries, either.'

  'But I wasn't—doing what you were doing.'

  'And just what was I doing? All I know is that one minute I was having a perfectly enjoyable dream and the next I was being jerked awake—'

  'You're saying you were asleep when you—you were practically m-making love—'

  'Shauna.' His expressive eyes went brilliant with amusement. 'When I make love, there's no "practically" about it. And I can promise you, if that's what we'd been doing, both of us would have been wide awake for the experience.' A slow, knowing smile curved his lips sending a tremor through her. 'To say nothing of the fact that I'd have had that thing off you early on in the proceedings.'

  That 'thing' was Shauna's nightdress. Made out of white cotton, with a high, lace-ruffled collar and long sleeves, it had an old-fashioned modesty about it; in fact, she'd discovered it in a small shop that specialised in copying antique clothing.

  'Not that the Victorian virgin image doesn't suit you,' he went on with silken mockery. 'All that repression… But holding back can be more of a come-on than black lace and an invitation, you know. A woman puts up her hair and most men immediately start to think about taking it down. She covers herself up—'

  'That's enough!' she started to edge away, shaken to the core by his insinuations.

  'No, my private little poetess, it's not,' he said and reached for her, his handsome face suddenly grim.

  The brief, barely exploratory kiss he had given her in the studio was nothing compared with the slow, expertly sexual assault he directed at her now. Only it wasn't really an assault… seducing and sharing, the mouth that moved over hers was compelling in its searching gentleness. The hands that slipped up her arms to cup her face were deliberately caressing. Force would have triggered her instant and instinctive resistance, and he was experienced enough to realise this. But in her innocence, she had no defence against an attacker who gave as much as he took.

  Making himself lord of her already disordered senses, he guided her into surrender even before she recognised the nature of the fight. Responsiveness blossomed out of the surrender, flowering up inside her like some fiery, exotic bloom. She had summoned up the vague outer edges of this heated urgency once or twice in her writing… but the reality was beyond mere poetry.

  Later—much later—she asked herself with a sense of shame how far she would have allowed him to take her if she hadn't been shocked out of the sensual dream he was spinning by the totally unfamiliar sensation of his hand closing possessively over one of her breasts. The burgeoning of her flesh against his palm seemed to set off some deeply ingrained warning system and she stiff­ened, feeling herself teeter on the brink even as she began to rebel.

  'No,' she moaned, twisting in panic at the treachery of her own body. She had to evade his all too knowing touch… to deny the wellspring of desire he'd tapped with such unerring skill.

  'Shauna—' His voice was thick… hoarse.

  'Michael—' His name came out raggedly. 'Oh, please, don't—I can't—Please, help me—'

  Whether it was the words or the way she said them that affected him, she didn't know. But he stilled sud­denly, then released her with an oath. The gold flecks in his eyes were like molten metal and his breathing was uneven. She stared at him with frightened uncertainty.

  'God, I must be out of my mind,' he said with a kind of brutal derision. Although she flinched at the harshness of his tone, she sensed somehow that the suppressed bitterness she detected in his words was directed at himself—not her. He took a deep breath and expelled it, running one hand savagely through his hair. He took another breath, bringing himself under control by sheer, visible force of will. 'Don't look at me like that, Shauna,' he ordered tautly. 'Those damned innocent eyes of yours are like mirrors, reflecting the worst in me. It's not very pleasant to look at.'

  'I—I'm sorry,' she stammered.

  'No, I'm the one who's sorry.' He gave an ominous smile. 'And I can think of one other person who's going to be sorry.'

  Shauna shivered a little. He didn't sound angry, exactly, just dangerously determined. 'You m-mean Jamie?'

  Emerald-ice eyes met anxious hazel ones for a long moment. 'Are you worried about what I might do to him?' Michael asked. 'Why? His little stunt ended up with us—now how did you put it?—"practically making love".'

  Shauna dropped her lashes and shifted a little, uncomfortably conscious of his scrutiny. The mockery that edged his quotation of her words didn't help. No wonder he'd taunted her about being the Victorian virgin type! Summoning up her nerve, she steeled herself to look at him again.

  'Yes… well, practically isn't actually d-doing it, is it?' she asked in what she hoped was a reasonably adult tone. 'Besides—'

  'Yes?'

  'If you hadn't changed your schedule and I hadn't forgotten to lock the door properly, nothing would have happened.' She managed a rueful little smile.

  His eyes narrowed. 'Oh, something would have hap­pened, Miss Whitney,' he declared flatly. 'Just not so quickly.' He paused, then gestured dismissively as she opened her mouth to object to this very peculiar remark.

  'What do you—' she began, her eyes widening.

  'Look,' he cut her off. 'We're both tired. And, as I said before, four o'clock in the morning in a hotel room isn't a setting that's conducive to rational discussions between a man and woman… as we've been proving. I'm going to sack out for what's left of the night on the sofa in the other room. Lord knows, I've bedded down in a lot less comfortable places in my life. Unless, of course, you have some problem being in the same suite as I am?'

  Shauna clenched her fists. Logic—if nothing else—demanded she accept his proposal… even if the way he put it made it sound like a fait accompli rather than a suggestion. When all was said and done, this was his suite. He was paying for it. And he was doing the gentlemanly thing. Althoug
h, when Michael Sebastian was involved, even gentlemanly behaviour had its unset­tling aspects.

  'No, I don't mind,' she said. 'Do you want a pillow?' There were four on the bed. She picked one up and handed it to him.

  'Thank you,' he said politely, getting up off the bed. His expression was enigmatic as he nodded his leave and turned towards the door.

  'Michael—'

  He stopped. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he glanced back at her. Something in his eyes made her pulse start to pound with alarming rapidity. Whatever she intended to say—if she had, indeed, meant to speak at all—vanished from her mind.

  'I—N-nothing,' she stuttered breathlessly.

  'Nothing?'

  'Just—good night.'

  His lips curved. 'It has been a good night,' he observed cryptically. 'At least now I'm absolutely certain you wrote that poetry. Sleep well, Shauna—and sweet dreams.'

  It took Shauna a very long time to get back to sleep after Michael left. She could still sense his presence in the room… even in the bed with her. And she could still feel the touch of his hands on her skin and the demanding caress of his mouth on her tender lips.

  Shauna had never known a man intimately. She'd never been tempted in that direction in fact. Aunt Margaret's strict upbringing had a great deal to do with it, but her own basic emotional insecurities contributed as well. In recent years, she'd sometimes wished she could emulate the light-hearted freedom she saw other girls enjoying, but she knew, deep down, it was imposs­ible. Casual sex was not for her. In order to give herself to a man, Shauna would need to feel a lifetime commit­ment… she would need to feel love.

  Yet she had responded to Michael Sebastian—a man she scarcely knew, much less liked—and responded to him with passionate intensity. He stirred her emotion­ally as well as physically, evoking a response she hadn't realised she was capable of making. He touched the secret places of her soul as skilfully as she instinctively knew he would touch the secret places of her body, and it frightened her.