Heaven, Texas (Chicago Stars #2)(109)

“You knew how important this was to me, and you didn’t even care.”

It was as if she hadn’t spoken. He walked back around the counter into the living room, stripping off his jacket as he talked. “Maybe it’s just as well all this has come out. I’ve been thinking it over, and this is probably as good a time as any for us to make a more permanent arrangement.” He tossed his jacket over a chair. “We’re leaving for L.A. in a couple of weeks, and I’ve decided to hire you as my full-time assistant at triple what you’re making now. And don’t start acting like you won’t be earning your paycheck. I’m not going to have time to attend to all my business while I’m spending ten hours a day on a soundstage.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Matter of fact, I want you to go out there a couple of days early and find us a place to live.” He sat down on the couch and propped his boots up on the coffee table. “I think a pool’d be nice, don’t you, and look for someplace with a good view. Buy yourself a car, while you’re at it; we’ll need another one.”

“Don’t do this, Bobby Tom.”

“And you’ve got to have some more clothes, so I’ll set up an expense account. No more outlet stores, Gracie. You go right over to Rodeo Drive and buy the best.”

“I’m not going to L.A. with you!”

He tugged his shirt from the waistband of his pants and began opening the studs. “This foundation idea of yours—I’m not nearly ready to make a commitment because I still think the whole thing’s crazy, but I’ll let you play around with it and see what you come up with.” He dropped his feet to the floor and rose from the couch, his shirt falling away from his bare chest. “I’ve got to be up at five tomorrow, sweetheart, so unless you want to see me make a fool of myself on the golf course, we’d better head for the bedroom right now.” Closing the distance between them, he began working at the buttons on her blouse.

“You’re not hearing anything I’m saying.” She tried to step away, but he held her firmly.

“That’s because you talk too much.” He lowered the zipper on the side of her skirt and dragged her into the bedroom.

“I’m not going to L.A.”

“Sure you are.” He nearly upended her as he pulled off her shoes, tossed the skirt to the side, and tugged down her panty hose. She stood before him in her panties, bra, and open blouse.

“Please, Bobby Tom. Listen.”

His eyes skimmed over her. “Please me. That’s what you said you wanted to do, isn’t it?” His hands went to his own zipper, and he lowered it.

“Yes, but—”

He grabbed her arm. “No more talk, Gracie.” Still fully dressed, but with his shirt and pants open, he pushed her down on the bed and fell on her.

A flutter of uneasiness passed through her as he shoved a hard knee between her thighs. “Wait!”

“There’s no reason to wait.” His hands yanked at her panties and his weight pinioned her while he stripped them away. She felt his knuckles dig into her pubic bone as he freed himself.

“I don’t like this!” she cried.

“Give me a minute, and you will.”

He was using sex to avoid talking to her, and she hated it. “I said I don’t like it! Get off me.”

“All right.” Imprisoning her in his arms, he rolled her so she was on top of him, but he held her bottom so tightly and pushed so insistently against her, that she felt no freer.

“No!”

“Make up your mind.” He rolled her beneath him again.

“Stop it!”

“You don’t want me to stop, and you know it.” His powerful chest pressed her to the mattress while he caught her behind the knees and shoved them apart, leaving her open and vulnerable. As she felt his fingers probe her, she balled her hand into a fist and slugged him in the back of the head as hard as she could.

“Ow!” He gave a yelp of pain and rolled off her, cradling his head with his hand. “Why’d you go and do that?” he cried indignantly.

“You ass!” She went after him, her fists flying despite the pain in her hand. As he lay on the bed, she swung at everything she could reach. He held up his arms to ward off her blows, yelping as a few of them landed on a tender spot, but not trying to restrain her.

“Stop it! That hurts, dammit! Ouch! What’s wrong with you?”

“Damn you!” Her hands were throbbing with pain. She took one last swing at him and settled back on her heels. Her chest heaved as she clutched her blouse closed. His physical aggression hadn’t been about sex, it had been about power, and at that moment she hated him for it.

He lifted his arms away from his head and gazed at her warily.

She threw herself from the bed and fumbled for the robe hanging on the back of the door. Her hands were aching so badly she had difficulty putting it on.

“Maybe we’d better talk about this, Gracie.”

“Get out of here.”

She heard the mattress creak and the sound of his footsteps as he left the room. Cradling her throbbing hands in her lap, she sagged down on the side of the bed, stifling a sob. It was finally over between them. She’d known today that it had to happen, but she’d never imagined it would end so bitterly.