The Man She'll Marry. Susan Fox P.

in. She loved the large, raised marble platform of the bathtub/Jacuzzi that sat beneath the high wall of windows overlooking the lights of San Antonio. Lush potted plants—some in bloom—rested on the marble tile that skirted the tub. Several hung from ceiling hooks overhead and gave the room the feel of outdoors, though the penthouse thermostat kept it all cozy.

      She could lie in the tub of hot, churning water, look out at the lights, and drink her glass of wine. Already the churning water soothed her. The wine bottle sat within reach, the flute of wine was poured, but Tracy hadn’t tasted it yet.

      There was always a chance that the hot water would do it. The uncommon drowsiness she felt gave her hope, so she waited, trying not to look at the tempting glass or the bottle next to it.

      The classical CD that played in the next room was on too low to hear distinctly, but it and the bubbling of the water saved her from silence. She thought she heard the soft chime of her doorbell, but finally dismissed it as imagination.

      Tracy didn’t know too many people in San Antonio. She’d never invited anyone up, not even Greg, whom she’d arranged to meet in the lobby before their date last night. She’d never got around to hiring a cleaning lady, and when she ate, she went out somewhere or brought home deli food.

      Alone in her private sanctuary, Tracy finally managed to focus her mind on the sound of the water and closed her eyes. Her aching body at last began to feel better as her tension eased. Not even the small distant sounds somewhere in the penthouse made much of an impression. Until the muffled sound of what could only be footfalls alerted her.

      Someone was walking down the hall!

      Drowsiness made her brain slow to react to the danger. Her body felt heavy and resistant as she tried to rouse herself.

      The sound of boot heels on tile made her jerk and grab for a towel. Alarmed, she glanced toward the open door and her heart gave a painful jolt.

      Ty Cameron stood in the doorway, his handsome face stern, his vivid blue eyes moving over her as if looking for injury. He advanced on her and Tracy fumbled to cover herself with the towel. Its saturated weight made it difficult to unfold beneath the water.

      “Get out!” she shrieked as he reached the marble steps to the Jacuzzi platform.

      Ty came to a halt, his gaze going to the wine bottle then to the steam that now whited the mirrors and the lower panel of windows.

      “You tryin’ to drink and drown?”

      “Get out!” she cried as she shrank away from him as far as the side of the tub allowed. “H-how dare you come in here like this!”

      “You might try answering your phone or the door.”

      Tracy shook her head adamantly. “You can’t come up here without my permission!”

      “Your doorman agreed with me. You looked sick earlier and now you don’t answer the phone or the door. You coulda been in trouble up here.”

      “You can see I’m not—get out!” she gritted, so desperate for him to leave that she was on the edge of hysteria.

      Ty turned as if to go, but instead pulled open the door of the linen closet and got out a dry towel. He tossed it on the tile that skirted the tub.

      “Get dried off and find some clothes. I’ll be waiting in the living room.”

      Tracy stared, still shocked by his intrusion. He ordered her around as if he had some right to. He was about to turn away when his gaze caught on the wine flute and bottle. She made a belated move toward both, but Ty leaned over and got them first. His gaze met hers, then dropped to the top of the soaked towel that peeped above the waterline. She could only watch with new horror as his gaze tracked the length of the towel that clung to her body to her thighs.

      Tracy couldn’t account for the flush of heat that went through her. Or the electric charge that chased it. Just then, she saw something change in Ty’s harsh gaze. And suddenly, she was so totally petrified of him that her earlier fears about him seemed minuscule.

      Ty’s gaze came up to hers and pierced deep. The blue of his eyes seemed to smolder then. Lust. It was as if Ty had only this moment noticed she was female. And she was so utterly vulnerable. Naked and trapped, she had only a soaked towel to hide behind. Ty was big and male and powerful. Unstoppable!

      Her racing heart pounded. Unstoppable!

      Ty was too big, too strong. He could snap her fragile bones with a careless flick of his hand. He could force on her anything he wanted to. Unstoppable!

      “Tracy?” The low timbre of Ty’s voice was oddly gentle. It somehow penetrated her fear and made her aware that she was shaking wildly. Her eyes felt as huge as saucers.

      Ty seemed to see something in her then, something that banished the smoldering heat in his eyes. She saw a glimmer of curiosity, but his expression softened so much that she doubted her eyes almost immediately. Was this a trick to put her at ease, to catch her off guard?

      It gave her a new shock to realize that the familiar scorn and condemnation she usually saw when Ty looked at her were also gone. That caught her as much by surprise as his sudden lust. Was she imagining all this, especially the soft look he was giving her now?

      But oddly, her fear of him was melting. As he straightened, his gaze held hers another heartbeat or two before he turned away. He took the wine and the glass and closed the door solidly on his way out.