Читать книгу Diana Palmer Texan Lovers: Calhoun / Justin / Tyler / Sutton's Way / Ethan / Connal - Diana Palmer - Страница 15

Abby was grateful that business kept Calhoun occupied for the next two days. She could hardly bear the thought of seeing him when he knew so well how she felt about him. And now that he’d reduced their relationship to a strictly physical one, some of the joy had gone out of life for her. She hadn’t expected that he’d actually proposition her. But if inviting her to his apartment wasn’t a proposition, what was it?

She managed to avoid him when he was in the office that Thursday and Friday, since things stayed hectic. Abby was training a new secretary, and Calhoun seemed reluctant to discuss their private lives around the other woman. She was a year older than Abby, bright and quick-witted. And, unfortunately, already stuck on Calhoun. She had a habit of sighing and batting her long eyelashes every time he passed her desk. Abby was glad Friday was her last day. Having to watch Calhoun with a potential new conquest—the girl was blond and very pretty—was just unbearable.

There was a small farewell party for Abby late Friday afternoon. Justin and Mr. Ayker and the women who worked in the office had taken up a collection to buy her a beautiful cardigan in a pale yellow shade. There was a cake, too, and Justin made a brief speech about how valuable she’d been to them and how they hated losing her. Calhoun wasn’t there. Abby left with mingled relief and disappointment. Apparently she wasn’t even going to get to say goodbye to him. Well, that suited her. She didn’t care if he was glad to be rid of her. Not one bit.

She cried all the way to Mrs. Simpson’s house because she didn’t care.

Tyler was right on time to take her to dinner. He looked good dressed up. He was wearing a navy blazer with tan slacks, a white shirt and a natty blue striped tie. He looked elegant and very masculine. His green eyes danced as Abby came downstairs in a gray crepe dress with a full skirt and a low, crosscut bodice with fabric buttons. Her hair was neatly styled, and she looked elegant and sexy.

“You look pretty,” he commented with a slow smile.

She curtsied. “So do you. Good night, Mrs. Simpson,” she called out. “I’ll be in by midnight!”

Mrs. Simpson came to the doorway, grinning. “Mind that no good-looking woman tries to take Ty away from you,” she teased.

“No chance of that,” he replied carelessly, smiling down at Abby. “This dishy lady is enough for me. Good night, Mrs. Simpson.”

“Good night,” the older woman replied. “Have fun.”

Tyler walked her out to his white Ford, opening the door for her. “I like your landlady. Her husband used to work for Dad. Did you know that?”

“She mentioned something about it,” Abby told him. “She’s a nice landlady.”

He got in, started the car and pulled out onto the road. “Do you miss the big house?”

“I miss the brothers,” she said quietly, fingering her small purse. “It’s hard getting used to my own company. There was always something going on at home.”

“Can I ask why you moved out?” he persisted, glancing in her direction.

She smiled at him. “No.”

His eyebrows arched wickedly. “Don’t tell me. Calhoun wrestled you down on the desk and tried to ravish you.”

Her face turned scarlet. She cleared her throat. “Don’t be absurd.”

He chuckled. “It isn’t absurd, considering the way he was watching you dance with me that night at the bar.”

“He was too busy dancing with Shelby to notice,” she murmured. “Justin went home and got drunk afterward,” she added, neglecting to mention her own participation.

“Shelby cried all night.” He sighed. “Hell of a thing, isn’t it, Abby, the way they still care about each other. Six years, and they’re as far apart now as they were then.”

“And both of them dying inside,” she added. She thought about herself and Calhoun and hoped that she wasn’t going to end up like Shelby, grieving for a man she could never have. She forced a bright smile. “Where are we going?”

“To that new Greek restaurant,” he told her. “They say the food is really good. Have you ever had Greek food?”

“No. I’m looking forward to trying it,” she said, and the conversation was back on safe territory again and away from the disturbing subject of Calhoun.

* * *

Meanwhile, Calhoun was pacing in Justin’s study at the house, his dark eyes black, his hands linked behind his back, scowling.

“Will you stop?” Justin muttered as he tried to add figures and ignore the distraction of his restless brother. “Abby’s not our responsibility anymore. She’s a grown woman.”

“I can’t help it. Tyler’s been around. He’s no boy.”

“So long as Abby isn’t interested in him, none of that will matter.”

Calhoun stopped pacing and glared at him. “And what if she is? What if she’s throwing herself at him on the rebound?”

Justin laid down his pencil. “Rebound from whom?” he asked, lighting a cigarette.

Calhoun rammed his hands into his pockets and stared out the dark window. “From me. She loves me,” he said quietly.

“Yes,” Justin replied, and for once his tone was sympathetic.

Calhoun hadn’t realized how much Justin knew. He turned, his dark eyes curious, wary. “Did she tell you?”

Justin nodded. He took a draw from the cigarette, watching it instead of his brother. “She’s young, but that could be an advantage. She isn’t cynical or world-weary or promiscuous like most of your women. And she hasn’t got a mercenary bone in her body.”

“She’d want marriage,” Calhoun replied tautly. “Happily ever after. I don’t know if I could adjust to being married.”

Justin looked up. “How are you going to take to a life without Abby in it?”

For an instant, Calhoun looked hunted. He stared at the carpet.

“And what if it doesn’t last?” he replied harshly. “What if it all falls apart?”

Justin blew out a cloud of smoke. “Love lasts. And if you’re worried about being faithful to her,” he added with a pointed stare, “you may find that fidelity isn’t all that difficult.”

Calhoun’s dark eyes snapped. “Oh, sure. Look at you. Happily ever after. Your perfect relationship fell apart,” he said, hurting and striking out because of it. “And how many women have you consoled yourself with in the past six years?”

Justin stared at him for a long moment, his eyes narrow and glittering. He smiled then, faintly. “None.”

Calhoun didn’t move. He hadn’t expected that answer, despite Justin’s clamlike attitude toward his private life.

“I had an old-fashioned idea that sex came after marriage with a woman like Shelby,” Justin said quietly. “So I held back. After she broke it off, I found that I wasn’t capable of wanting anyone else.” He turned away, oblivious to Calhoun’s shocked expression. “These days I find my consolation in work, Calhoun. I’ve never wanted anyone but Shelby since the day I met her. God help me, I still don’t.”

The younger man felt as if he’d been hit by a two-ton weight. His heart ran wild. Justin’s words echoed in his mind. He couldn’t even feel desire for the ravishing blonde Abby had seen him with in Houston. He hadn’t felt it with anyone since that night he’d brought Abby home from the bar and seen her naked to the waist. Was that what he had to look forward to? Would he end up like Justin, imprisoned in desire for the one woman he couldn’t have, alone for the rest of his life because he was incapable of wanting another woman?

“I didn’t realize,” Calhoun said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

Justin shrugged. “One of those things,” he said philosophically. He sat down behind his desk. “You may not believe in marriage, but you may find that a relationship can tie you up properly without a ring or a legal paper. And I’ll throw your own question right back at you,” he added, cocking his head at his brother. “How many women have you had since you noticed Abby?”

Calhoun’s face grew hard and remote. He glared at Justin, then turned and left the room.

Justin lifted an eyebrow and chuckled softly to himself as he bent over his figures again.

* * *

Abby had a nice supper with Tyler, and the moussaka she sampled was delicious, like the elegant baklava they had for dessert and the faintly resinous wine they drank with their meal. But while she was listening to Ty talk about his new job, she was thinking about the empty future, about living without Calhoun. She’d gotten used to listening for his step in the hall late at night as he went to his room, to seeing him across the table, to watching television with him, to being near him at work. Life was so empty now, so cold. She felt as if she’d never know warmth again.

“The only bad part of it is that I’m going to get loaned out,” Tyler was telling her resignedly as he drank a demitasse of Greek coffee after dessert. “Old man Regan has a daughter in Arizona who’s coping with a dude ranch and two of her nephews for the summer. I’m going to be sent out there to get the place in shape, I gather, while my assistant looks after things here.” He grimaced. “I hate dude ranches. And I don’t much care for the woman trying to run this one. Apparently she thought she could and talked Regan into it, but she seems to be losing her shirt.”

Abby glanced at him. “What’s she like, do you know?”

“I don’t have a clue. She’s probably one of those feminists who think men should have the children and women should earn the living. I’ll be damned if she’ll tell me how to do my job.”

Abby could see the fireworks already, and she smiled behind her cup at the mental image. Tyler was so much like Justin and Calhoun, a reactionary, a holdover from the old West. It would be fascinating to see how he coped with a modern woman.

He took her home minutes later, bending to kiss her cheek at the door of Mrs. Simpson’s house. “Thanks for keeping me company,” he grinned. “I enjoyed it.”

“So did I.” She smiled up at him. “You’re a nice man. Someday you’ll make some lucky girl a nice husband.”

“Marriage is for—”

“The birds,” she finished for him, sighing. “You and Calhoun ought to do an act together. You’ve got the chorus down pat.”

“No man wants to get married,” he told her. “Men get corralled.”

“Oh, sure they do,” she agreed. “By greedy, grasping, mercenary women.”

“I’d marry you in a minute, Abby,” he said. He was smiling, but he didn’t sound as if he were joking. “So if Calhoun slips the noose, you just throw it my way. I won’t even duck.”

“You doll.” She reached up and kissed his firm jaw. “I’ll remember that. Good night, Ty.”

“Good night. I’ll give you a call next week, okay?”

“Okay.”

She waved at him and then used her key and went inside. She climbed the stairs lazily, relaxed from the resinated wine and worn out from her long week of avoiding Calhoun. So it was a surprise to find the telephone ringing in her room, where she had her own private extension.

She put down her purse and sat on the bed to answer it. “Hello?”

A deep, familiar voice that made her pulse leap said, “Hello.”

“Calhoun?” she asked softly.

“I can’t sit up and wait for you anymore,” he said. “So I thought I’d make sure you got home all right.”

“I did.”

“Where did you go?”

She lay back on the bed, her head on the pillow. “To the new Greek place.”

“Ummm,” he murmured, sounding as if he were stretched out on his own bed. “I’ve been there for business dinners a time or two. Did you try the moussaka? It’s delicious.”

“Yes, that’s what I had, and some of that resinated wine. It’s very strong.”

He paused. “Did you come straight home?”

She almost smiled at his concern. “Yes, I came straight home. He didn’t even try to seduce me.”

“I don’t remember accusing him of it.”

She touched the receiver gently. “Is everything all right at the house?”

“I guess so.” There was a pause. “It’s lonely.”

“It’s lonely here, too,” she said.

Another pause. “I didn’t mean what you thought I did,” he said quietly. “I wouldn’t take you to bed on a bet. You aren’t the kind of woman to be used and thrown aside. I’m ashamed of you for thinking I could treat you like that after all these years.”

Her heart ran away. She clutched the receiver closer to her ear. “But you said—”

“I said we could go to the apartment and be alone,” he interrupted. “And that we could make love. I meant we could make a few memories and then I’d take you home.” He sighed. “I’d probably do it bent double, but I never had any intention of taking advantage of the situation.”

“Oh.”

“So now that we’ve cleared that up, how about dinner tomorrow night?” he asked.

She hesitated. “Calhoun, wouldn’t it be better if we just didn’t see each other again?” she asked quietly, even though it broke her heart to say the words.

“I’ve looked out for you, watched over you and ordered your life for years,” he replied. “Now you’re grown, and things have happened between us that I never expected. We can’t go back to the relationship we had, and we can’t be intimate. But there has to be a way that we can keep each other,” he said heavily. “Because I can’t quite put you out of my life, Abby. I hate like hell going past your room at night and knowing you aren’t in it. I hate watching television alone and sitting at a table alone when Justin has business dinners. I hate the feedlot because there’s going to be another woman at your desk.”

“She’s blond,” she reminded him.

“She isn’t you,” he said shortly. “Are you going to come with me or not?”

“I shouldn’t….”

“But you will,” he returned.

She sighed, smiling. “Yes.”

“I’ll pick you up at five.”

“Five?”

“We’re going to Houston, remember?” he laughed softly.

“Dining and dancing.”

“Just that, if it’s what you want,” he said gently. “I won’t even touch you unless you want it.”

“That apartment,” she asked hesitantly. “Have you…have you taken a lot of women there?”

He didn’t answer her immediately. “While I was away those few days, I moved. I changed apartments,” he said. “This one is across town from the one I had. And I’ve never taken a woman there.”

She wondered at the switch, wondered why he’d bothered. Surely it couldn’t be to protect her from the memory of his old life, in case one day she did go there with him?

“I see,” she murmured.

“No, I don’t think you do,” he replied, his voice deep and soft. “Not yet, anyway. I’d better let you get to sleep. It’s late.”

She didn’t want him to hang up. She searched for something to say, something to keep him on the line, but her mind was blank.

“You and Justin never came to blows over Shelby, I guess,” she asked then, because it had just occurred to her that Justin had threatened to punch Calhoun the morning after the square dance.

“Justin and I had a long talk,” he replied. “Not that I expect it to do any good. He’s too set in his ways to bend, and he won’t let Shelby get near him.”

“Maybe someday he’ll listen.”

“Maybe.” He sighed. “Five tomorrow. Don’t forget.”

As if she could! She touched the receiver as if she were touching him. “Good night.”

“Good night, sweetheart,” he said softly, and the line went dead.

She floated into her nightgown and into bed, hearing nothing but the endearment, that unexpected, beautiful word, until sleep finally claimed her.

It was the longest Saturday of Abby’s life. She tried to sleep late, but she couldn’t. She went downstairs and had breakfast with Mrs. Simpson and then she went back to her room and forced herself to watch television. Having Saturdays free was still new. At the feedlot, she’d always worked them. Now she had the whole weekend off, and she didn’t know what to do with herself.

Time dragged all day long. She went for a ride just to give herself something to do and wound up in town shopping for a new dress to wear on her date with Calhoun.

She came out with a pretty red patterned silk skirt and matching sweater. It brought out her tan and made her look sophisticated. She thought about having her hair cut, but she’d gotten used to its length. She experimented with different hairstyles for an hour, only to brush it out and leave it around her shoulders afterward.

She was dressed and ready at 4:30. She tried to get interested in a book while she waited. Those thirty minutes were going to be agony.

Apparently Calhoun felt the same way, because he showed up twenty minutes early.

She forced herself not to run to let him in, but she was breathless all the same as she looked up into his dark, quiet eyes.

“Hi,” she said.

He smiled slowly, gazing approvingly not only at her outfit but at her hairdo as well. “Hi,” he replied lazily.

He was wearing a charcoal-gray suit with pale gray handtooled leather boots and a pearl Stetson. He looked so handsome that Abby could hardly believe he was really taking her out on a date. It was so new, so unreal.

“Are you sure you want to take me out?” she asked unexpectedly, her eyes troubled as they met his. “You don’t feel sorry for me—?”

He put his thumb gently against her lips, silencing her. “I wouldn’t take you to the post office out of pity,” he replied. “Are you getting cold feet?” he added softly.

She grimaced and stared at his jacket. “Yes.”

“I won’t hurt you,” he said, his voice quiet and deep. “I won’t rush you or embarrass you.”

She bit her lower lip. “It’s just that it’s…new.”

“You’ll get used to it.” He moved restlessly. “Are you ready to go? I’m early, but I was afraid I’d get held up if I didn’t leave while I could.”

“Yes. I’ll just get my purse.”

She got her purse and her black velvet blazer, as well, and let him escort her out to the Jaguar. She got more nervous by the minute, which was absurd considering how long she’d dreamed of going anywhere with him. She could hardly talk, and her hands shook.

“How do you like living with Mrs. Simpson?” Calhoun asked on the way to Houston.

She smiled. “I like it very much.” Her fingers toyed with the handle of her purse. “I miss the house sometimes. It’s different, living alone.”

He glanced at her, his eyes narrow. “Yes.” He turned his eyes back to the road, frowning as he pulled a cigarette from the pack in his pocket and stuck it in his mouth. He reached for the car lighter, noticing her curious stare. “I’m nervous,” he said without thinking, and then he laughed at his own confession. “That’s one for the books, isn’t it, Abby, with my reputation?”

She felt warm all over. She smiled, her eyes carefully lowered. “I’m nervous, too,” she said.

“I’m not a virgin,” he reminded her as he put the lighter against the cigarette.

“Rub it in,” she sighed miserably.

“Don’t make it sound like leprosy,” he teased as he replaced the lighter in its hole beside the ashtray in the dash. “Frankly, I’ve had my fill of experienced women telling me what to do in bed.”

She stared at him, torn between curiosity and jealousy. “Do women really do that?”

His eyebrows arched. He hadn’t realized how innocent she really was. “Don’t you go to movies?”

“I tried,” she recalled. “You never would let me in to see the really good ones.”

He whistled softly. “Well, well.” His eyes brushed her slender body, then returned to the road. “You’ll take a lot of teaching, won’t you, tidbit?” he murmured.

She shifted against the seatbelt. “Which would probably bore you to death.”

“I don’t think so,” he mused. “After all—” he lifted the cigarette to his firm lips “—I could customize you.”

She gaped at him. “Now I’ve heard everything!”

“Tell me you’d hate being my lover, Abby,” he challenged softly, glancing her way.

She couldn’t. But she couldn’t quite admit the truth, either. She averted her face, burning with subdued irritation at his soft, predatory laughter.

They went to the same club where she’d seen him with the blonde, but this time was different. There seemed to be no barriers after the first few awkward minutes.

“I’ve never had rice made like this,” Abby remarked as she enjoyed the small portion that came with her roast beef au jus.

“With scallions, you mean? It’s unique. Like you,” he added, and she looked up to find his eyes steady on her face. Intent. Unblinking.

She gazed back at him. He made her feel giddy when he looked at her that way. Her whole body tingled.

And she wasn’t the only one affected. His heart was doing a tango in his chest at the way she was watching him, at her pleasure in his company. He even liked the way he felt himself, nervous and a little uncertain.

They finished their meal, and the dessert that followed it, in silence. As they lingered over a second cup of coffee, he finally spoke. “Want to dance?” he asked softly.

She swallowed. Her eyes traveled slowly over his big body, and just the thought of being pressed against him on the dance floor frightened her. She’d drown in pleasure, and he’d know it. He’d see how helpless she was, how vulnerable.

“I—don’t know,” she stammered finally, and swallowed the last spoonful of her apple pie.

“Are you really afraid to let me hold you in front of a roomful of people, Abby?” he asked with narrowed eyes.

She lifted her own gaze. “Yes.”

“Why?” he persisted.

Well, why not be honest, she thought fatalistically. “Because I want you,” she whispered softly, watching his expression become taut. “And because you’ll be able to see how much.”

Her lack of guile floored him. He couldn’t remember a single woman in his past being quite so straightforward about such things. He took a slow breath and reached across the table for her hand, turning it over to trace the palm tenderly with a long forefinger.

“I want you just as badly,” he said, watching her hand instead of her eyes. “And you’ll be able to feel how much, as well as see it. And I still want to dance with you.”

She was so hungry for him that her body was pulsing softly. Even having him know every thought in her mind, being vulnerable, didn’t seem to matter anymore. She worshiped him with her eyes, and he looked up and caught her in the act.

“Let’s stop pretending,” he said quietly. “Come here.”

He got up, drawing her with him. He led her to the small dance floor, where a band was playing a lazy tune, and when he pulled her close, she went without a murmur.

“Have you ever noticed how perfectly we fit together?” he asked against her hair as they moved to the music. His hand at her back contracted, bringing her even closer, and the sound of his voice at her ear was deliciously exciting. “I like the way you feel against me.”

She could tell that, because his body was beginning to react in a totally masculine way to her softness. She stiffened a little, but the caressing motion of his fingers on hers relaxed her.

“It’s all right,” he whispered. “I won’t hurt you.”

“I know that.” She closed her eyes, drowning in his nearness, in the music, in the magic.

He shuddered, a barely perceptible stiffening of his big body, and his hand pressed her against him for one wild second. “This is stupid,” he said tautly.

“I tried to tell you that,” she whispered shakily as her fingers contracted helplessly in his and she looked up into his eyes.

His jaw clenched. Everything she felt was in those worshipful eyes, in her face, in her body so soft against his. His mind whirled; he was floating. She wanted him.

“For God’s sake,” he groaned. “Let’s get out of here.”

Her gaze searched his hard, dark face, the eyes that blazed down into hers. He looked impossibly mature and experienced, and she knew she was out of her league. But she wanted to lie in his arms and let him love her. She wanted nothing in life more than to be alone with him now.

“I…” She swallowed. “I don’t know how…I’ve never had to…about precautions, I mean…”

He bent, brushing his hard mouth against her soft one briefly, silencing her. “Are you scared?”

“Yes.”

His nose nuzzled hers. “But you’d give yourself to me anyway.”

She clenched her teeth. “Yes.”

“And hate me afterward.”

Her slender shoulders lifted and fell. “No.”

Her expression touched him. “Do you love me that much?”

She lowered her eyes, but he tilted her chin up again and there was something new in his look, in his scrutiny of her face.

“Do you love me that much?” he whispered again.

Her eyes closed. “Yes!” she breathed.

His hand slid up her back into her long, thick hair and pulled her forehead against him, pressed it there as they moved to the rhythm of the music. “Precious,” he said in a tone that could have burned water. She hardly heard him over the wild beating of her heart. His lips smoothed her forehead, brushing it tenderly.

“I won’t make you pregnant,” he whispered. “Come with me.”

As if she had a choice, she thought shakily as she let him lead her off the dance floor. She’d never been so helpless in her life. All she could do was look at him with helpless need, love radiating from her oval face like fire from an open hearth.

He paid the bill and drew her out into the cold night air, tucked her in the car and drove across town without saying a single word.