Читать книгу Diana Palmer Texan Lovers - Diana Palmer - Страница 24
ОглавлениеShelby had hoped beyond hope that Justin might still love her. That he might have married her not so much out of pity as out of love. But her wedding day had convinced her that what little emotion had been left in him after years of bitterness was all gone. He still blamed her for what he thought she’d done with Tom Wheelor, and he thought she was frigid.
She didn’t know how to deal with her own fears and his anger. Her marriage was going to be as empty as her life had been. There would be no black-headed little babies to nurse, no soft, sweet loving in the darkness, no shared delight in making a life together. There would be only separate bedrooms and separate lives and Justin’s hunger for vengeance.
The black depression that she’d taken to bed on her wedding night got worse. Justin tolerated her presence, but he was away more often than not. At meals, he spoke to her only when it was necessary, and he never touched her. He was like a polite host instead of a husband. And day by miserable day, Shelby began to feel a new recklessness. While Justin was away one weekend, she went on a white-water rafting race with Abby’s friend Misty Davies. She tried her hand at skydiving. She joined a fencing class. She went back to the old, more reckless days of her adolescence. Justin had never really known her, she thought sometimes. He seemed surprised by the things she enjoyed and a time or two he acted as if her lifestyle bothered him. Well, what had he expected her to do, she fumed, stay at home and arrange flowers? Perhaps that was the image he had of her, that she was a pretty socialite with beauty and no brains.
She’d kept working after the wedding, but Barry Holman insisted that she take a few days off. It wasn’t right, he said, for her to work through her honeymoon. She wanted to laugh at that, and tell him that her husband didn’t want a honeymoon. Justin had come home from his latest trip and had gone straight to the feedlot office with an abrupt and coolly polite greeting. After a few bored hours, Shelby phoned the office, just to see how things were going. She liked her job. She missed working terribly. It was something to do; it helped keep her mind off her marriage and her own inadequacies.
When she called, the poor temporary secretary, Tammy Lester, answered the phone, obviously half out of her mind trying to cope with an impatient, frustrated Barry Holman. So Shelby dressed in a cool white and red summery dress and white high heels and went to work.
The old sedan she drove broke down halfway there and she had to have it towed in to the dealer car lot where she had her mechanical work done.
Once Shelby was at the dealership, as fate would have it, she noticed Abby’s little sports car was there and up for sale. The sight of the car brought back memories. Shelby had driven one like it during six of the blackest months in her life, the time she’d spent in Switzerland after she’d given back Justin’s ring. She’d loved that car, but she’d wrecked it accidentally. The wreck hadn’t dampened her enthusiasm for fast cars, though. Now she wanted one—it appealed to the wild streak in her that had never totally disappeared. It wasn’t a suicidal streak; she just loved a challenge. She liked sports cars and the exhilaration of driving in the fast lane.
Justin didn’t know that Shelby had a wild streak, because he’d accepted the illusion of what she appeared to be rather than wondering what was beneath the surface. Well, he was in for a few shocks, she decided, starting now.
Because the dealer knew that Shelby had just married Justin, he didn’t even ask for a cosigner on the note. He sold her the car outright, with payments she could afford on her own salary.
She parked the vehicle right outside the office, delighting in its new paint job. Abby had had it painted red with white racing stripes just before she traded it for something more sedate. The new colors suited Shelby very well. She sighed over it, delighted that she could afford it and even manage the payments by herself. All her life she’d depended on her father’s money. There was something challenging and very satisfying about taking care of herself financially. She was sorry now that she’d panicked at being on her own and rushed into marrying Justin. She’d hoped for something more than a roof over her head, but that wasn’t going to happen. Justin was taking care of her, just as he’d taken care of Abby, and if he had any lingering desire for her, it didn’t show. After he’d accused her of being frigid, she’d kept out of his way altogether. If only she wasn’t so repressed, she could have told him what the problem was and how frightened she was of intimacy. But it was hopeless. Justin would probably be as embarrassed as she was to talk about it, anyway. So things would just have to rock along as they had been, until one of them broke the silence.
When she got to the office, Barry Holman was pacing the floor while the temporary secretary cried. They both turned as Shelby put her purse in the top drawer of the desk and smiled.
“Can I help?” she asked.
The woman at her desk cried even harder. “He yells,” she wailed, pointing at Barry Holman, who looked furiously angry from his blond head to his big feet.
“Only at incompetents!” he flashed back.
“Now, now,” Shelby soothed. “I’m here. I’ll take care of everything. Tammy, why don’t you make Mr. Holman a cup of coffee while I straighten out whatever’s fouled up, then I’ll show you how to update the files and you can keep busy with that. Okay?”
Tammy smiled, her soft brown eyes quiet. “Okay.”
She got up and Shelby sat down. Her dark brows lifted as Barry Holman glanced at her uncomfortably.
“It’s your vacation,” he said. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Why not? Justin is working, why shouldn’t I?”
He frowned. “Well…”
“Tell me what needs to be done, and then I’ll show you my new car.” She grinned. “It was Abby’s, and they let me buy it without even a cosigner.”
“Naturally, considering your husband’s credit line,” he mused. She gave him a strange look, but he ignored it, delighting in his good fortune. “Here, this is what’s giving Tammy fits.”
He produced two scribbled pages of notes on a legal pad that he wanted transcribed and put into English instead of abbreviations and scrawls, and fifty copies run off with different salutations on each.
“Simple, isn’t it?” he said. He glared toward the back of the office. “She cried.”
Shelby wanted to. It was an hour’s work just to translate his handwriting. But she knew how to use the computer’s word-processing program, and Tammy had three simplified tutorials spread out on the desk, none of which would explain the program to a person who’d never used a computer.
“She asked me what these were for.” Barry Holman sighed, picking up one of the diskettes in its jacket. He looked up. “She thought they were negatives.”
Shelby had to bite her lower lip. “She’s never had any computer training,” she reminded him.
“That’s no excuse for not having a brain,” he returned hotly.
“Mr. Holman!” Tammy exclaimed, glaring at him as she came back with three cups of black coffee on a tray. “That was unkind and unfair.”
“Didn’t they tell you at the temporary-services agency that computer experience was necessary to do this job?” he grumbled.
“I have computer experience,” Tammy replied with hauteur. “I play games on my brother’s Atari all the time.”
Mr. Holman looked as if he wanted to cry. He ground his teeth together, went back into his office and closed the door.
“I guess I told him.” Tammy grinned wickedly.
There was a loud, feverish, furious, “Damn!” from the vicinity of Mr. Holman’s office. Shelby and Tammy exchanged amused glances.
“They didn’t tell me about the computer,” Tammy confided. “They asked if I had office skills, and I do. I type over a hundred words a minute and take dictation at ninety. But I don’t read Sanskrit,” she whispered, pointing at the scribbling on the legal sheets.
Shelby burst out laughing. It felt so good to laugh, and she thanked God for this job, which was going to save her sanity. She shook her head and, putting the books aside, she began to explain the computer’s operation to Tammy.
After work, she took the long route home. Mr. Holman had relaxed after lunch, and he was tolerating Tammy much better now. In fact, he hadn’t even growled when Shelby had mentioned that it might be economical to have two secretaries in the office because of the backlog of filing and updating the computer’s entries. He’d talked about taking on an associate, and if he hired Tammy full time, he could do it.
Shelby turned the small sports car onto the highway sharply, delighting in its rack-and-pinion steering and easy handling. She gunned it up and up and up, loving the speed, loving the freedom and the wind tearing through her long hair. She felt reckless. As she’d told Justin, she had nothing left to lose. She was going to enjoy her life from now on. Justin could just do his worst.
There was a slow car in front, and she didn’t even brake. She surged around it and barely got back into her lane as a white car sped in the opposite direction. She thought it looked familiar, but she didn’t look in the rearview mirror. It was going toward the feedlot. She passed the turnoff, increasing her speed. She wasn’t ready to go home to her cell just yet.
Calhoun was muttering a prayer as he pulled up in front of the feedlot. That was Abby’s old car, and it had been Shelby at the wheel. He’d barely recognized her in that split second, her face laughing with pleasure at the speed, her hair flying in the wind. She made Abby’s friend Misty Davies look like a safe driver by comparison.
Justin looked up from his desk as Calhoun came in and closed the door behind him. “It’s almost time to go home,” he remarked, glancing at his Rolex. “I didn’t think you were coming back today from Montana.”
Calhoun grinned. “I missed Abby. Speaking of Abby,” he added, perching himself lazily on the edge of his brother’s desk, “a wild woman driving her sports car just came within an inch of running me down.”
“Didn’t Abby sell it?” Justin remarked.
“She certainly did. I insisted.”
“I see.” Justin smiled faintly. He leaned back with his cigarette smoking in his lean fingers. “I gather that some other fool’s wife is driving it?”
“You could put it that way. She was doing eighty if she was doing a mile.” His dark eyes narrowed. “Are you sure you want Shelby to have it?”
There was a shocked silence. “What do you mean, do I want Shelby to have it?” Justin sat up abruptly. “Are you telling me Shelby was driving that sports car?”
“I’m afraid so,” Calhoun said quietly. “You didn’t know?”
Justin’s expression became grim. Shelby wasn’t happy and he knew it. Her most recent behavior was already worrying him, although he was careful to keep his misgivings from Shelby. But purchasing a sports car was going too far. He was going to have to talk to her. He’d avoided confrontations, letting her settle in, keeping his distance while he tried to cope with the anguish of having Shelby in his house when she backed away the minute he came into the room. But this was too much.
He couldn’t let her kill herself. He got up from the desk without even looking at Calhoun, plucked his hat off the hat rack and started for the door. “Was she going toward the house?” he asked curtly.
“The opposite direction,” Calhoun told him. His eyes narrowed. “Justin, what’s going on between the two of you?”
The older man looked at him, black eyes glittering. “My private life is none of your business.”
Calhoun folded his arms. “Abby says Shelby is running wild, and that you’re apparently doing nothing to stop her. Are you that hell-bent on revenge?”
“You make it sound as if she’s suicidal,” Justin said coldly. “She’s not.”
“If she was happy, she wouldn’t be like this,” the younger man persisted. “You’ve got to stop trying to live in the past. It’s time to forget what happened.”
“That’s damned easy for you to say.” Justin’s black eyes flashed. “She threw me over and slept with another man!”
Calhoun stared at him. “You don’t have my track record, but you’re no more a saint than I am, big brother. Suppose Shelby couldn’t accept the women in your past?”
“It’s different with men,” the older man said irritably.
“Is it?”
“She was mine. I was so damned careful never to put a foot wrong with her. I held back and gritted my teeth to keep from scaring her, and she flinched away from me every time I touched her. And all the while she was sleeping with that pasty-faced boy millionaire. How do you think I felt?” he blazed. “And then she told me that I was too poor to suit her expensive tastes, she wanted somebody rich.”
“She didn’t marry him, did she?” Calhoun returned. “She left for Europe and went wild, just as she’s going wild now. She was in a wreck in Switzerland, Justin. In a sports car,” he added, watching the horror grow in his brother’s eyes, “just like the one she’s driving now. She was grieving for you. Even her father realized that, at last.”
Justin fumbled a cigarette into his mouth and lit it. “Nobody ever told me that.”
“When would you ever listen to anything about her?” Calhoun replied. “It’s only in the past few months that you’ve calmed down enough to talk about anything connected with the Jacobses.”
“I wanted her,” Justin ground out. “You can’t imagine how I felt when she broke it off.”
“Yes, I can,” Calhoun replied. “I was there. I know what it was like for you. But you never even considered that Shelby might have had a reason. She tried to explain it once, to tell you why she broke off the engagement. You wouldn’t even listen.”
“What was there to listen to?” Justin asked impatiently. “She’d already told me the truth, in the beginning.”
“I never believed it,” Calhoun replied. “And neither would you have, if you hadn’t been in love for the first time in your life and so damned uncertain about your own ability to keep Shelby. You were always worried about losing her to another man. Even to me. Remember?”
It was hard to argue with the truth. Justin knew he’d been possessive about Shelby. Hell, he still was. But how could he help it? She was a beautiful woman, and he was a plain, unworldly man. He’d never been able to understand why Shelby had stayed with him as long as she had.
“Even now,” Calhoun continued quietly, “it seems to me that you’re trying your best to make her leave you.”
Justin smiled mockingly. “What do you expect me to do, tie her in the cellar?” he asked reasonably. “I can’t make her stay if she doesn’t want to. Hell—” he laughed coldly “—I can’t even touch her. She flinched away from me the one time I tried to make love to her,” he said bluntly, remembering. His eyes went blacker and he looked away. “I can’t get near her. She’s afraid of me that way.”
“How interesting,” Calhoun said, choosing his words, “that such an experienced woman of the world could be afraid of sex. Isn’t it?”
Justin frowned. “What do you mean?”
Calhoun didn’t answer him. He was smiling a little when he started out the door, but Justin couldn’t see the smile. “I’ve got to get home. See you, big brother.” And before Justin could reply, he was gone.
Justin took a minute to get his temper under control. He went out the door behind Calhoun without a word to his secretary, his eyes narrow with concern. Calhoun had delayed him too long. Suppose Shelby wrecked that little car?
He went up and down the road, but he didn’t see any sign of the sports car. Later, he went to the house, and almost went down on his knees with relief when he found it parked at the steps.
He had to force himself to behave normally when his hands were almost shaking from fear that he might find her in a ditch somewhere. He walked into the house, tossing his hat onto the hat rack, and went into the dining room, where Shelby was sitting in a chair halfway down the long cherry-wood table, talking to Maria about some new recipe.
She looked toward the doorway, but when she saw him, all the laughter and animation went out of her like a light that was suddenly turned off. She was wearing a red and white dress and her hair was down around her shoulders in a pretty, dark, waving tangle. The wind, he thought absently, tearing through her hair in the convertible.
“I’ve traded cars,” she said defiantly. “How do you like it? It was Abby’s. You don’t even have to cosign with me, I can make the payments from my salary.”
Justin glanced at Maria, who knew the look and made herself scarce. He sat down at the head of the table, lit a cigarette and leaned back in the chair to stare intently at Shelby. “The last thing in the world you need is a sports car. You already drive too damned fast.”
She searched his dark eyes, reading the thinly veiled concern. “Somebody saw me in the car this afternoon,” she guessed.
He nodded. “Calhoun.”
“I thought it was him.” She studied her hands in her lap, turning the thin gold band on her wedding finger. “I like speed,” she said hotly.
“I don’t like funerals,” he shot back. “I don’t intend having to go to yours. You’ll take that sports car back tomorrow or I’ll take it back for you.”
“It’s mine!” she cried. Her green eyes flashed angrily. “And I won’t take it back!”
He took a long draw from his cigarette. In his reclining position, his white silk shirt was drawn taut over tanned muscles. His chest was thick with hair that peeked out through the unfastened top buttons of his shirt. His jacket was off, his sleeves rolled up. He looked devastatingly masculine, from his disheveled black hair to his sensuous mouth.
“I’m not going to argue about it, honey,” he replied. Through a veil of smoke, his black eyes searched hers. “Calhoun told me you wrecked a car overseas.”
She flushed. “That was an accident.”
“You aren’t going to have any accidents here,” he said. “I won’t let you kill yourself.”
“For heaven’s sake, Justin, I’m not suicidal!” she protested. She lifted her coffee cup to her lips and took a fortifying sip of the black liquid.
“I didn’t say you were,” he agreed. He moved his ashtray on the tablecloth, watching it spin around. “But you need a firmer hand than you’ve been getting.”
“I’m not Abby,” she said. Her finely etched features grew hard as she looked at him. “I don’t need a guardian.”
He looked back, black eyes searching, quiet. “And while we’re on the subject, I don’t like you working for Barry Holman.”
She blinked. She felt suddenly as if control of her own life was being taken away from her. “Justin, I didn’t ask how you liked it,” she reminded him. “I told you before we married that I wanted to keep on working.”
“There’s more than enough to do around here,” he said. He tapped an ash into the ashtray. “You can manage the house.”
“Maria and Lopez do that very nicely, thank you,” she replied. She stiffened. “I don’t want to stay home and swirl around the house in silk lounge pajamas and throw parties, Justin, in case you wondered. I’ve had my fill of charity work and flower arranging and social warfare.”
He was looking at the cigarette, not at her. “I thought you might miss those things. In the old days, you never had to lift a finger.”
She studied her neat hands in her lap, pleating the thin silky fabric of the red and white dress. “My father saw me as a parlor decoration,” she said tautly. “He would have been outraged if I’d tried to change my image.”
He frowned slightly. “Were you afraid of him?”
“I was owned by him,” she replied. She sighed, raising her eyes to Justin’s. The curiosity there puzzled her, but at least they were talking for a change instead of arguing. “He wasn’t the easiest man to live with, and he had terrible ways of getting even when Ty and I disobeyed.”
“He kept you pretty close to home,” he recalled. “Although he trusted you with me.”
“Did he really?” she laughed hollowly. “Justin, you were the second man I ever dated and the first I ever went out with alone. You look shocked. Did you think my father let me live the life of a playgirl? He was terrified that some fortune hunter might seduce me. I lived like a recluse while he was alive.”
Justin wasn’t sure he understood what he was hearing. His head tilted a little and his eyes narrowed. “Would you like to run that by me again?” he asked. “You hadn’t been out with a man alone until you went with me?”
“That’s it,” she agreed. “I didn’t get out of my father’s sight until after I broke the engagement and went to Switzerland.” She smiled sadly. “I guess the freedom was too much, because I ran wild. The sports car was just an outlet, a way of celebrating. I never meant to wreck it.”
“How badly were you hurt?” he asked.
“I broke my leg and cracked two ribs,” she said. “They said I was lucky.”
He finished his cigarette and crushed it out. “I didn’t realize you were that sheltered,” he said quietly. He was only beginning to understand how innocent she’d been in those days. If she’d only dated one other man, then very likely her first taste of intimacy had been with him. He thought about that, and felt himself go taut. He’d expected her to have a little experience, even though he’d known she was virginal. But if she’d had none, it was easy to understand why his ardor would have frightened her so.
“I couldn’t talk about things like that with you,” she confessed. “I was young and hopelessly naive.”
He stared at her narrowly, his black eyes glittering. “I frightened you the night we got engaged, didn’t I?” he asked suddenly. “That was why you pulled back—not because I disgusted you.”
She caught her breath audibly. “You never disgusted me!” she burst out, hurting for him. “Oh, Justin, no! You didn’t think that?”
“We didn’t know very much about each other, Shelby,” he said, his voice deep and measured. “I suppose we both had false ideas. I saw you as a sophisticated, elegant society woman. And while I knew you were innocent, I thought you’d had some experience with men. If I’d had any idea of what you’ve just told me, I damned sure wouldn’t have been that demanding with you.”
She went red and averted her eyes. She couldn’t find the right words. Amazing, that they were married and she was twenty-seven years old, and this kind of talk could still embarrass her.
“I was afraid you couldn’t stop,” she murmured evasively.
He sighed heavily and lifted his coffee cup to his lips, draining it. “So was I,” he said unexpectedly. “It was touch and go for a few seconds, at that. I’d gone hungry for a long time.”
“I didn’t think men had to, these days,” she said softly. “I mean, society is so permissive and all.”
“Society may be permissive. I’m not,” he said flatly. His black eyes flashed at her. “I never was, in the way you mean. A gentleman doesn’t seduce virgins—or take advantage of women who don’t know the score. That leaves party girls.” He held the cup in his big, lean hands, smoothing over it with his thumb. “And just to be frank, honey, the type never appealed very much to me.”
Her soft eyes searched over his hard features, lingering on his chiseled mouth.
“I guess you never lacked offers, all the same,” she said, letting her gaze fall to her lap again.
“I’m rich.” There was cool cynicism in the words. “Sure, I get offers.” He studied her face calculatingly. “In fact, Shelby, I had one while I was in New Mexico last week, wedding ring and all.”
Her teeth clenched. She didn’t want him to see that it bothered her, but it was hard to hide. “Did you?”
He put the cup down. “You’re as possessive about me as I am about you,” he said then, surprising her gaze up to lock with his in a slow, electric exchange. “You don’t like the thought of other women making eyes at me, do you, Shelby?”
She crossed her legs. “No,” she said honestly.
He smiled mockingly as he lit another cigarette. “Well, if it’s any comfort, I froze her out. I won’t cheat on you, honey.”
“I never thought you would,” she replied. “Any more than I’d cheat on you.”
“That would be the eighth wonder of the world,” he remarked with deceptive softness, “considering your hang-ups. We’ve been married for almost two weeks, and you still look like a sacrificial lamb every time I come near you.”
She drew in a slow, steadying breath. “Yes, I know,” she said miserably. She smiled bitterly. “I’m aware of my own failings, Justin. I guess you won’t believe it, but you can’t possibly blame me any more than I blame myself for what I am.”
He scowled. He hadn’t meant to put her on the defensive. His pride was stung and he was striking out. But he didn’t want to hurt her anymore. He’d done enough of that already.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said on a weary breath. “It’s the way things happened, that’s all.” He looked his age for a minute, his expression bleak, his dark eyes haunted. “You savaged my pride, Shelby. It’s taken a long time to put it behind me. I guess I haven’t, just yet.”
“I didn’t get off scot-free, either,” she murmured. Her thin shoulders slumped. “I’ve had my share of grief over what I did.”
“Why?” he asked shortly.
She closed her eyes and winced. “I did it for your sake,” she whispered.
He let out an angry breath. “Well, that’s a new tack, at least.” He ground out the half-finished cigarette and got to his feet. “I’ve got some paperwork to do before Maria gets supper on the table.” He paused beside her chair, watching the way she stiffened as he got close to her. He reached down and caught a handful of her long hair, dragging her head back so that he could see her eyes. “Fear,” he ground out, searching them. “That’s all I ever see in your eyes when I come near you. Well, don’t sweat it, honey. You won’t be called on to make the supreme sacrifice. I’m not desperate!”
He let her go and moved past her with anger in every line of his powerful body, without another word or a backward glance.
Shelby felt the tears come and she didn’t stop them. He didn’t know why she was afraid, and she couldn’t tell him. He just assumed that she withdrew because she didn’t want him. Nothing was further from the truth. She did, desperately. But she wanted him controlled and gentle, and she remembered how it had been when he wasn’t.
She got up from the table and went up to her room to spend a few quiet minutes before they ate getting herself back together again. It was so hard to talk to him, to get around his growing impatience. Her rejection was doing terrible things to him, and even now she felt protective. She wanted to give him what he wanted, to erase those hard lines from his face. But she was so frightened of the demands he might make on her.
If only she could tell him. But her sheltered background made it too embarrassing to explain why she was the way she was. Until she could find a way to make him understand, it was going to put an even worse strain on their marriage.
