A Compromising Affair. Gwynne Forster

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      “Denise!”

      “More,” she said. “More!”

      “Sweetheart! Baby. I’m on the verge of…” He abruptly pulled away from her. “Sweetheart, if we were in someplace private, we’d be making love right now. Do you realize that?”

      “Yes,” she whispered, shaken and still trembling with need. “I’ve never felt like that before, and I…I’ve never lost control like that.”

      She couldn’t tell him how badly she had wanted him inside of her and how badly she still did.

      “Give me a chance, Denise. I want to give you everything that a man can give a woman, and I don’t mean material things, either. Are you listening to me?”

      “After what just happened between us, Scott, I’d be foolish not to. I can’t believe I let myself—”

      He interrupted her. “Let yourself go? I’m on cloud nine knowing that you trusted me that much.” Suddenly, his face clouded in a frown. “Are you afraid to trust me?” Scott said. “Why? Have I done anything that suggests I’m not trustworthy? Talk to me!”

      “No, you haven’t. Quite the opposite. It was easy to…to let things move along. I thought physical attraction was the only thing I had to deal with. But now—”

      “Now, you have to deal with your feelings. Don’t make me pay for whatever happened in the past.” He looked over his shoulder toward the horses. “Red and Sandy don’t seem to be having a problem. If she’s in heat, we’ll have to walk home.”

      Thank God, she could finally laugh. How good it felt!

      He asked her what was so funny. “If she was in heat, Scott, Drake wouldn’t have let her get within a mile of that stallion, and she would never have been so docile when I was riding her.”

      He stared at her. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

      “You bet. Mares don’t like to be denied, any more than women do.” With that, she stood. “Let’s ride downstream. It’s beautiful down there, where the river curves.”

      He slowly raised his six-foot-four-inch frame from the bench. “Fortunately, I’ve learned to control evidence of my sexual frustrations,” he said. “But as Scarlett O’Hara said, ‘Tomorrow is another day.’”

      She’d think about that later. Liking Scott, even making love to him, would be wonderful. But he was looking for a serious relationship, and that scared her. She’d been there and done that. She knew that a woman was a man’s entire world until she gave him what he wanted. She was not going there again. But oh, Lord, how Scott Galloway made her feel!

      They mounted the horses and cantered along the path until they reached the river bend. “I want to love and to be loved,” she admitted. “But I don’t want to be hurt, to live in emotional pain every day.”

      From his vantage point atop Big Red’s back, Scott looked down at the lazily flowing river. The morning breeze blew plumes from the cottonwood trees into his face. He sniffed the perfume of the wild roses that were tucked among the blooming red and white crepe myrtle trees. All was right with Mother Nature, but what he wouldn’t give to say the same about himself!

      So she was attracted to him. It was the thought of emotional intimacy that she couldn’t handle. I want her, and I’m going to have her. And once I get inside of her, I’ll show her how a man loves a woman. I’ll make her feel plenty. And when it’s over, she’ll remember what it was like, and she’ll need me. Not just any man, but me, because I don’t plan for it to be any other way.

      “How often do you ride?” he asked her, having observed the ease with which she sat in the saddle.

      “Not as often as I’d like. I travel a great deal for my work.”

      So she was being evasive again. He stopped his horse. “Denise, if I ask you a question, and you don’t want to answer it, just say you’d rather not answer. I won’t be offended.”

      “Do you have a short fuse, or do I annoy you?”

      “If I had a quick temper, the State Department would have fired me years ago. It doesn’t help if you’re a diplomat. You learn to hide your feelings the way a bird covers its eggs. Haven’t you ever been close to a man, one with whom you shared your dreams and aspirations?”

      “It’s a long story, Scott, and if you’ll forgive me, I’d rather not go into it now.”

      “It’s all right. We’ll get there,” he said confidently.

      “Why are you so certain?”

      “Because I, for one, have a vivid memory. Have you forgotten what happened less than twenty minutes ago? Considering how you responded to me, do you think I won’t be back for more? Trust me, I will.”

      “But Scott, that’s not… I mean, sexual attraction doesn’t guarantee anything.”

      “You fell for the wrong man. And one day, you’ll know that for certain. It’s getting warm, and the horses are becoming agitated. Perhaps we should go back.”

      “You’re right.”

      “When will you be in Washington?” he asked her.

      “Monday morning.”

      “I want to see you Monday evening.”

      “Scott, I…I don’t know if it’s such a good idea.”

      “Why not? You have to eat, don’t you? Look, Denise, forget what I said a minute ago. You know what you want. You’re just scared as hell to take it.”

      “That isn’t true, Scott. If I’m afraid of anything, it’s… I don’t know that woman who kissed you back there. She’s… I don’t know who or what.”

      “Did you like her? Or are you scared of what you’ll do if she makes an appearance again? Trust me, I won’t let you do anything you don’t want to do.”

      “No, but you’ll make sure that I want what you want. I know that a thirty-one-year-old woman ought to have her act together. And in most respects, I do. But I’m not willing to subject myself to disappointment. I picked up the pieces once, and that will be the last time.”

      Tell me about it. For every unreliable and untrustworthy man, I’ll show you a woman who’s the same. “Whatever it was, you’re not willing to share it. Right?”

      “Scott, I know I have to take chances, but right now, I am not up to taking this chance just yet.”

      He gave the rein a gentle tug. “Let’s go. By the time we get back to the Harrington estate, the sun will be high, and Big Red will be irritable. We are not done yet. Where do you live in Washington?” She gave him an address in Chevy Chase, Maryland, a suburb of D.C. “Is it all right if I pick you up at six-fifteen Monday evening?” He didn’t like the frown on her face, or that she answered him with downcast eyes.

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