Diana Palmer - Night of Love

Steven Ryker paced his office at Ryker Air with characteristicenergy, smoking a cigarette that he hated while he turned the air bluein quiet muttering. A chapter of his life that he'd closed the door onfour years past had reopened, leaving his emotional wounds bare andbleeding.

Meg was back.

He didn't recognize his own fear. It wasn't a condition he'dever associated with himself. But things had changed. He'd gone througha period of mourning when Meg had walked out on him to begin a balleticcareer in New York. He'd consoled himself with woman after willingwoman. But in the end, he'd been alone with the painful memories. Theyhurt, and because they still hurt, he blamed Meg. He wanted her tosuffer as he had. He wanted to see her beautiful blue eves fill withtears, he wanted to see pain on that exquisite face framed by softblond hair. He wanted consolation for the hell she'd put him through byleaving without a word when she'd promised to be his wife.

He put out the cigarette. It was a habit, like loving Meg. Hehated both: cigarettes and the blond memory from his past. He'd neverhad a woman jilt him. Of course, he'd never asked a woman to marry him,either. He'd been content to live alone, until Meg had kissed him ingratitude for the present he'd given her when she turned eighteen. Hislife had turned over then.

Their fathers, hers and his, had become business partners whenMeg was fourteen and her brother, David, just a little older. Thefamilies had developed a closeness that tied their lives together. Meghad been a sweet nuisance that Steven had tolerated when he and Davidhad become best friends. But the nuisance grew up into a beautiful,regal woman who'd melted the ice around his hard heart. He'd giveneverything he was, everything he had, to Meg. And it hadn't been enough.

He couldn't forgive her for not wanting him. He couldn't admitthat his obsession with her had all but cost him his sanity when sheleft. He wanted vengeance. He wanted Meg.

There would be a way to make her pay, he vowed. She'd hurt herleg and couldn't dance temporarily. But that ballet company she workedfor was in real financial straits. If he played his cards right, hemight yet have that one magical night in Meg's arms that he'd dreamedof for years. But this time, it wouldn't be out of love and need. Itwould be out of vengeance. Meg was back. And he was going to make herpay for what she'd made of him.

Meg was already out of humor when she went to answer thephone. She'd been in the middle of her exercises at the bar, and shehated interruptions that diverted her concentration. An injury hadforced her into this temporary hiatus at her family home in Wichita,Kansas. It was hard enough to do the exercises in the first place witha damaged ligament in her ankle. It didn't help her mood when shepicked up the receiver and found one of Steven Ryker's women on theother end of the line.

Steven, the president of Ryker Air, had been playing tennisall afternoon with Meg's brother, David. He'd obviously forwarded hiscalls here. It irritated Meg to have to talk to his women friends atall. But then, she'd always been possessive about Steven Ryker; longbefore she left Wichita for New York to study ballet.

"Is Steve there?" a feminine voice demanded.

Another in a long line of Steve's corporate lovers, no doubt,Meg thought angrily. Well, this one was going to become a lost cause.Right now.

"Who's calling, please?" Meg drawled.

There was a pause. "This is Jane. Who are you?"

"I'm Meg," she replied pertly, trying not to laugh.

"Oh." The voice hesitated. "Well, I'd like to speak to Steve,please."

Meg twirled the cord around her finger and lowered her voicean octave. "Darling?" she purred, her lips close to the receiver. "Oh,darling, do wake up. It's Jane, and she wants to speak to you."

There was a harsh intake of breath on the other end of theline. Meg stifled a giggle, because she could almost read the woman'smind. Her blue eyes twinkled in her soft oval face, framed by paleblond hair drawn into a disheveled bun atop her head.

"I have never !" An outraged voice exploded in herear.

"Oh, you really should, you know," Meg interrupted, sighingtheatrically. "He's so marvelous in bed! Steven, darling?"

The phone was slammed in her ear loud enough to break aneardrum. Meg put a slender hand over her mouth as she replaced thereceiver in its cradle. Take that, Steven, she thought.

She turned and walked gingerly back into the room David hadconverted from the old ballroom into a practice room for his sister. Itdidn't get a lot of use, since she was in New York most of the yearnow, but it was a wonderfully thoughtful extravagance on her brother'spart. David, like Meg, had shares in Ryker Air. David was a vicepresident of the company as well. But the old family fortune had beensacrificed by their late father in an attempt to take over the company,just before his death. He'd lost, and the company had very nearlyfolded. Except for the uncanny business acumen of Steven Ryker, itwould have. Steve pulled the irons out of the fire and made the companysolvent. He owned most of it now. And he should, Meg thoughtcharitably. Heaven knew, he'd worked hard enough for it all these years.

As she exercised, Meg felt wicked. She shouldn't have causedSteve problems with his current love. They hadn't been engaged for fouryears, and she'd long ago relinquished the right to feel possessiveabout him.

Pensively she picked up her towel and wrapped it around herlong, graceful neck, over the pink leotard she wore with her legwarmers and her pitiful-looking toe shoes. She stared down at themruefully. They were so expensive that she had to wear her old ones forpractice, and anyone seeing her in them would be convinced that she waspenniless. That was almost the truth. Because despite the shares ofstock she held in Ryker Airthe company that Steven's fatherand Meg and David's father had founded jointlyMeg waspractically destitute. She was only a minor dancer in the New Yorkballet company she'd joined just a year ago, after three years of studywith a former prima ballerina who had a studio in New York. She had yetto perform her first solo role. Presumably when she passed thatlandmark, she'd be higher paid, more in demand. Unless she missed ajump, that was, as she had a week ago. The memory was painful, like herankle. That sort of clumsiness wasn't going to get her any starringroles. And now she had the added worry of getting her damaged tendonback in shape. The exercise, recommended and outlined by a physicaltherapist, was helping. But it was torturously slow, and very painful,to exercise those muscles. It had to be done carefully, too, so thatshe wouldn't damage them even further.

She went back into her disciplined exercises with a determinedsmile still on her face. She tried to concentrate on fluidity otmovement and not the inevitable confrontation when Steve found out whatshe'd said to his girlfriend. Her whole life seemed to have beencolored by him, since she was fourteen and their fathers had becomebusiness partners. Her father had worshiped Steven from the beginning.So had David. But Meg had hated him on sight.

For the first few years, she'd fought him tooth and nail, notbothering to hide her animosity. But on the eve of her eighteenthbirthday, things had changed between them quite suddenly. He'd givenher a delicate pearl necklace and she'd kissed him for it, a littleshyly. Except that she'd missed his lean cheek and found his hard,rough mouth instead.