Now You See Her Linda Howard(26)

Clinically she watched as his face turned red from effort, and the veins in his neck stood out. He hadn't even loosened his tie. His thrusts moved her back and forth on the sofa.

If he noticed her lack of response, he didn't care. Within two minutes he stiffened, his pelvis jerking and his face twisting into a carnal parody of pain. Odd, she thought, how something that was exciting when she was turned on was distasteful when she wasn't.

He pulled out of her, panting, and took out a handkerchief to wipe himself clean. "Do you have another of those?" she murmured, and seeing his blank look, added, "The handkerchief."

"No, this is the only one." He started to fold it and return it to his pocket—disgusting—but Candra took it from him and folded it herself, touching it as little as possible, and tucked it between her legs.

He looked uneasy. "It's monogrammed."

"I'll give it back to you," she said impatiently. "Or would you rather I destroy it?"

"Burn it," he said, but he still looked unhappy about her having his handkerchief. Too bad he didn't apply that caution to the rest of his behavior, she thought.

She sat up and straightened her clothing, within moments looking as if nothing had happened. Nothing had, for her, she thought.

"Sit down," she said. "I do have something to discuss with you."

"Of course, anything I can do to help." His own clothing restored to respectability, he sat down behind his desk, made of good old American oak. He was always careful not to flaunt his wealth where his constituents might see, here in his D.C. home and in his office. His home in New York, however, was as luxurious as a palace, with imported everything.

He smiled at her now, the smooth, urbane smile of a man who knows he has power. In coming to him like this, he thought she was going to ask him for a favor. His hazel eyes glittered; during their sporadic relationship, Candra had firmly refused to do anything more than occasionally accommodate him. Carson was accustomed to calling the shots, accustomed to having women do his bidding, and her cool distance both annoyed and challenged him. Of course, she had further annoyed him by making their encounters as memorable as possible.

"Two years ago," she said, "I had an abortion."

"I trust you had good care. I've always supported legislation to—"

"I'm not interested in what you've supported," she interrupted. "Carson, the child was yours. But when Richard found out I'd had the abortion, he thought it was his. That's the basis of the trouble between us."

"Really." He leaned back in his huge leather chair, steepling his fingertips together. "How interesting.

But why are you telling me this?"



His expression hadn't even flickered at the news that she had supposedly aborted his child. That wasn't the reaction she had hoped for. "Richard is being difficult about the settlements, and without going into detail, he's in a position to win. I could use some financial help, just this one time."

"To the tune of how much?" he asked mildly.

Unease prickled her spine. This wasn't going quite as she had imagined. A million would take care of all her debts, letting her start fresh, but because she was uneasy she said, "Half a million."

"That's a lot of money." He shrugged. "Your pussy isn't that good."

She didn't react to the crudity. She was aware, after all, of just how crude he could be.

"I wonder just how you managed to get pregnant," he mused. "You always told me you were on birth control pills."

"An accident. I had a respiratory illness, and the antibiotic I took affected the pills."

"Unfortunate. However, I sincerely doubt the child was mine. I had a vasectomy some years ago."

Anger curled in her stomach, but she controlled it. He thought he had just played her for a fool. If, however, he thought that was her only approach, he would be unpleasantly surprised. "Did you? You never mentioned it to me."

"Why would I? You were on the pill anyway, and I've never been fool enough to think I was the only man fucking you. The vasectomy was insurance against this kind of blackmail."

"Now, that's interesting," she said smoothly. "I took out a form of insurance, too. I've never underestimated you, Carson, but I do believe you've underestimated me."

"In what way?" To her gratification, he did look a little wary.

She leaned over and took an envelope and a tiny tape player from the large bag she had carried. His face went stony when he saw the tape player.

"Oh, it isn't on," she said. "It doesn't record, anyway; it's just a player. Our little tryst was private.

Others, however, weren't." She punched the "play" button and sat back.

With satisfaction she watched his face blanch as voices filled the room, scratchy but recognizable. She had made the tape at a raunchy little orgy she had staged at the beginning of their relationship, while Richard was in Europe for several days and she had plenty of time. She had done it deliberately, of course, because she had never had any illusions about Carson and suspected that one day she might need a club with which to bludgeon him.

She turned the tape player off, ejected the cassette, and tossed it to him, then placed the envelope on his desk. "Keep it," she said. "It's your personal copy. The accompanying pictures are in the envelope."