An Excerpt From
SEALED WITH A KISS
by Gwynne Forster

Annoyance surged through her, enlivening her. "You had no right to seduce me on that dance floor. No gentleman would have done what you did to me out there. You practically made love to me right out there in front of all those people," she fumed. "You don't respect me, and now everybody knows it." It poured out of her, but not a word described what she actually felt; words couldn't have described it. A wintry desolation had beset her, saturating her consciousness with a deep need for the shelter of his arms, for the solace of his whole self. Apprehensive of her feelings, she took refuge in her annoyance, grasping at straws.

"Shut up, Naomi." It was gently said, without vocal inflection.

"What?" She lowered her voice. "What do you mean telling me to shut up?"

"Naomi," he drawled, giving her the impression that he was drawing on his last reserve of patience. "Shut up is exactly what I mean. I'm the one who got seduced on that dance floor. Me! I was dancing normal, just like I always do, and then you stepped into me." She opened her mouth to protest, but his look suggested that silence would be prudent.

"That's right. You just tucked your little tush under and moved right into me. What do you think I'm made of, huh? And another thing. If you weren't susceptible, you wouldn't have reacted the way you did. That's mostly what this is about, isn't it? You're scared of what you felt. And you're scared of something else, too, Naomi, but that's another story, isn't it?"

She leaned back in the richly upholstered chair and glared at him. "So what happened out there was all my doing, eh? Big, six foot four or five inch man got snowed by a female who doesn't know that" - she flicked a finger - "about the art of seduction. Get real, Rufus."

Laughter deep and warm rippled from his throat, as he glanced at his watch. Their waiter seemed to have taken a break. "Honey, you don't have to know anything about the art of seduction; you just do what comes naturally. Uninhibited, that's you. No wonder you try to hold yourself aloof, you're scared of what you might do if you really let yourself go." He drained his glass and stood. "You're enjoying this conversation, because its cooling you off, but it's heating me up, and I've finished with it. If I offended you, I apologize. But Lady, I'm not one bit sorry for anything that happened on that dance floor."

He winked as he reached for her hand, disconcerting her. "I'd do it again, if I had the chance, and I'd bet my Rolex that you would, too."

"Not with you, I wouldn't," she threw at him, hating his obvious amusement, his cocky grin.

"I don't believe you," he countered, his face as somber as she'd ever seen it.

They walked out of the supper club, and her pride in being with Rufus overrode her anger. He had complemented his navy tuxedo with a ruffled, pale gray silk shirt and pale gray on navy accessories, and the combination off set his dark good looks. Tall and elegant, he was the picture of male power. I'm not vain, she thought, but right now I'm glad I'm not bad looking.

They reached her door. "Rufus, could we please not have the kind of scene we had when you last brought me home." She sounded so prim that she annoyed herself. "I mean that I want to avoid it."

"I'm not stopping you," he teased. "You have my permission to avoid it." His charismatic smile enveloped her, but she resisted the temptation to forgive him and turned toward her door.

"Naomi, how can you stay angry so long? With me, it's over in minutes."

"And a good thing, too, or you'd be angry all the time. Any little thing ticks you off." His censoring frown challenged her statement. "Well, a lot of things do," she amended.

He moved closer, and she would have stepped back if there had been any place to go. "If you didn't play a part in what happened to us during that dance and if you're not susceptible to me as you claim, I'd like to be sure of it. Kiss me, Naomi. I won't move, I promise, and there's no music here."

He leaned toward her and, with the closed door for support, braced his hands on either side of her. "Kiss me, baby." Her heart thundered widely at the suggestiveness in his low, husky words. "Put your arms around me and kiss me, he cajoled silkily." His voice had become thick and slurred. She stared into his eyes, mesmerized, and then let her glance drift to his sensuous lips. When he parted them ever so slightly, she sucked in her breath and succumbed to his tempting maleness. He closed in on her, his hands still braced against the wall, and his mouth devoured her as she grasped him to her and clung.

Desperate now, she whimpered, "Hold me. Please hold me." But he didn't touch her until her knees buckled. Then he held her with his left arm, took her key and opened the door.

"Good night, Naomi."

She barely noticed his short, rapid intake of breath and the look of longing in his eyes, but focussed on what she felt. What she needed. "Good.... What?"

It registered that he was actually leaving her. "I hate you, Rufus. I do. I hate you, and I'm never going anywhere else with you. Never." She hissed it at him, trembling with frustration.

She calmed herself, allowed her good sense to surface and, with reason restored, no longer felt rejected. If he had crossed that threshold, she would have had some confessing to do, come morning. And she wouldn't have known where to start and certainly not how to end it. She didn't know the end. She did know that Rufus had proved his point incontestably. She not only wanted him; she needed him.

I know how you feel," he muttered, as he walked away, equally frustrated but determined to leave her. Gently and at considerable expense to his shattered emotions, he had pushed her inside her door and left. If the day ever came when she could look him in the eye and say she wanted him and would have no regrets, he'd stay. Not before.

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