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She swallowed. “Well, I guess they’d have gotten an eyeful,” she said, her voice unsteady. After a minute, her face flushed, she turned toward him and asked plaintively, “Calhoun…I wasn’t uncovered all the way, was I?”
He looked into her eyes and couldn’t quite manage to look away. She was lovely. He reached out involuntarily and touched the side of her neck, his fingers tender and exquisitely arousing.
“No,” he managed, watching the relief shadow her eyes as he told the lie with a straight face. “I buttoned you back up and tucked you in.”
She let out a hard breath. “Thank you.”
His fingers moved up to her cheek. “Abby, have you ever let a man see your breasts?” he asked unexpectedly.
She couldn’t handle a remark that intimate. She dropped her eyes and tried to catch her breath.
“Never mind, tenderfoot,” he chided softly. “I can guess.”
“You mustn’t talk like that,” she whispered.
“Why?” he mused, tilting her chin up so that her shocked eyes met his. “You’re the one trying to grow up, aren’t you? If you want me to treat you like an adult, Abby, then this is part of it.”
She shifted nervously. He made her feel so gauche it was ridiculous. She twisted her purse out of shape, afraid to meet the dark eyes that were relentlessly probing her face.
“Don’t,” she pleaded breathlessly, and her eyes closed.
“Are you really afraid of me?” he asked, his voice deeper, silkier.
He touched her mouth with a lean forefinger and she actually jumped, her eyes flashing open, all her hidden hungers and fears lying vulnerable there. And that was when his self-control fell away. She was hungry for him. Just as hungry as he was for her. Was that why she’d been so restless, because she’d become attracted to him and was trying to hide it? He had to know.
She couldn’t answer him. She felt as if he were trying to see inside her mind. “I’m not afraid of you. Can’t we go?”
“What are you trying to do?” he whispered, leaning closer, threatening her lips with his. “Block it out? Pretend that you aren’t hungry for my mouth?”
Her heart went wild at the soft question. If he didn’t stop, she was going to go in headfirst. He could be playing, and to have him tease her without meaning it would kill her. Her fingers touched his shoulder, pushed experimentally against the hard muscle under the soft fabric of his suit. They trembled there as her eyes suddenly tangled with his and her mouth echoed the faint tremor of her body.
He stared at her. It was a kind of exchange that Abby had never experienced before. A level, unblinking, intense look that curled her toes and made her heart race. Very adult, very revealing. His dark eyes held hers, and his lean fingers traced up and down her soft throat, arousing, teasing. His hard mouth moved closer to hers, hovering above it so that she could feel his warm, minty breath on her parted lips, so that she was breathing him.
“Cal…houn,” she whispered, her voice breaking on a hungry sob.
She heard his intake of air and felt his hand curl under her long hair, powerful and warm, cradling her nape to tilt her head up.
“This has been coming for a hell of a long time, baby,” he whispered as his head bent and he started to give in to the hunger that had become a fever in his blood. “I want it as much as you do….”
He leaned even closer, but just as his hard mouth started down over hers, before his lips touched her pleading ones, the sound of an approaching vehicle broke them apart like an explosion.
Calhoun felt disoriented. He looked in the rearview mirror and saw one of the ranch trucks coming up behind, but it took a moment to register. He was having trouble breathing. His body felt rigid, like drawn cord.
He glanced at Abby. She’d moved away and the realization that she was trembling brought home the total shock of what he’d been about to do. Damn it, she’d knocked him for a loop without even trying. That made him mad, and so, ironically, did the fact that she’d given in so easily. It infuriated him even more that he’d been about to kiss her. He didn’t want complications, damn it, and Abby was the biggest he’d ever faced. Was she vulnerable because she wanted him or just because she’d suddenly discovered that she was a woman and wanted to experiment?
“We’d better get to work,” he said tersely, starting the Jaguar. He drove down the path, waving to the men in the vehicle behind them. He cut off at the next dirt road, and minutes later they were at the feedlot. “Go on in. I’ve got to drive over to Jacobsville and talk to our attorney for a few minutes,” he said as coolly as he could. That was a bald-faced lie, but he needed time to get hold of himself. He was as tense as a boy with his first woman, and he was losing his sense of humor. He didn’t want Justin to see him like this and start asking embarrassing questions.
“All right,” Abby said, her voice faltering.
He glanced at her with narrowed eyes. She’d give the show away all by herself if she went inside looking like that. “Nothing happened,” he said shortly. “And nothing will,” he added, his voice cold, “if you can manage to stop looking at me like a lovesick calf!”
A sob tore from her throat. Her wide, hurt eyes sought his and quickly fell away. She opened the door and got out, closing it quietly behind her. She straightened and walked toward the office without looking back.
Calhoun almost went after her. He hadn’t wanted to say that to Abby, of all people, but he was off balance and terrified of what he might do to her if she kept looking at him that way. He couldn’t make love to her, for God’s sake. She was a child. She was his ward. Even as he told himself that, a picture formed in his mind of Abby lying on the bed with her breasts bare. He groaned and jerked the car into gear, sending it flying down the road.
Abby didn’t know how she got through the day. It was impossible to act as if nothing had happened, but since Justin knew she had a hangover he didn’t question her pale complexion or her unusually quiet demeanor. And Calhoun didn’t come back to the office. That was a godsend. Abby didn’t think she could have borne seeing him after what he’d said to her.
“You need a diversion,” Justin remarked later in the day, just about quitting time. “How about a steak in Houston? I’ve got to meet a man and his wife to talk about a new lot of stocker calves, and I’d hate to go alone.”
He was smiling, and Abby warmed to his gentle affection. Justin wasn’t the cold creature most people thought him. He was just a sad, lonely man who should have married and had several children to spoil.
“I’d like that very much,” Abby said honestly. It would be nice to go out to dinner, especially if it meant she could avoid Calhoun. Of course, it was Saturday night. He wasn’t usually home on Saturday nights anyway, but it would be so much better if she didn’t have to dread seeing him.
“Good,” Justin said, rising. “We’ll get away about six.”
Abby wore a soft burgundy velour dress. It had a slightly flared knee-length skirt and bishop sleeves, and a neckline that was V-shaped and not at all suggestive. She wore black accessories with it and, because it had turned cold, her heather-colored wool cape.
“Very nice,” Justin said, smiling. He had on dark evening clothes and looked elegant and sophisticated, as he always did on the rare occasions when he dressed up.
“I could return the compliment,” Abby said. She clutched her purse, sending a restless look down the hall.
“He won’t be home,” Justin told her, intercepting her worried glance. “I gather the two of you had another falling-out?”
She sighed. “The worst yet,” she confessed, unwilling to tell him any of the details. She looked up at him. “Calhoun acts as if he hates me lately.”
Justin searched her eyes quietly. “And you don’t know why,” he mused. “Well, give it time, Abby. Rome wasn’t built in a day.”
She blinked. “I don’t understand.”
He laughed softly and took her arm. “Never mind. Let’s get going.”
Houston was big and sprawling and flat as a pancake, but it had a very special personality and Abby loved it. At night it was as colorful as Christmas, all jewel lights and excitement.
Justin took her to a small, intimate dinner club where they met the Joneses, Clara and Henry. They owned a small ranch in Montana where they raised stocker calves to supply to feedlots. They were an older couple but full of fun, and Abby liked them instantly. She and Clara talked fashion while Justin and Henry talked business. Abby was really having a good time until she glanced across the room and saw a familiar face on the cozily intimate dance floor.
Calhoun! Her eyes widened as she followed his blond head through the crowd until there was a clear space. Then she saw the ravishing blonde with him. He was holding the woman, who was at least his own age, with both hands at her waist, and she was curled up against him as if they’d been dancing together for years. They were smiling at each other like lovers.
Abby felt sick. She could almost feel herself turning green. If Calhoun had worked at it for years, he couldn’t have hurt her any worse. Coming on the heels of the insulting remark he’d made just a few hours earlier, it was a death blow. This was his kind of woman, Abby realized. Sleek, beautiful, sophisticated. This was one of his shadowy lovers. One of the women he never brought home.
“What’s wrong, Abby?’ Justin asked suddenly. But before she could answer he followed her gaze to the dance floor, and something in his dark eyes became frightening, dangerous.
“Isn’t that Calhoun?” Henry Jones grinned. “Well, well, let’s get him over here, Justin, and see what he thinks of our proposition.” Before anyone could stop him, he got up and headed for the dance floor.
“Mrs. Jones, shall we go to the powder room?” Abby asked with a pale but convincing smile.
“Certainly, dear. Excuse us, won’t you, Justin?” the white-haired woman asked politely, and started out of the restaurant ahead of Abby.
Justin unexpectedly caught Abby’s upper arm and drew her back. “Don’t panic,” he said quietly. “I’ll get you out of here as soon as I can. Do you want a drink?”
She looked up, almost in tears at his unexpected understanding. “Could I have a piña colada with just a little rum?” she asked.
“I’ll order it. Keep your chin up.”
She smiled at him softly. “Thanks, big brother,” she said gently.
He grinned. “Any time. Get going.”
She glanced away in time to catch Calhoun’s dark eyes. She nodded her head at him and turned away with no apparent haste.
Ten minutes later, she and Mrs. Jones returned to find Calhoun about to leave the table, the blonde still clinging to his arm. He looked up at Abby. His face was unreadable, but there was something in his expression that disturbed her. She wasn’t about to let it show, though. Lovesick calf, indeed. She’d show him, by gosh.
She smiled. “Hi, Calhoun!” she said easily, sliding into the chair next to Justin’s. “Isn’t this a nice place? Justin decided I needed a night on the town. Wasn’t that sweet of him?” She picked up her piña colada and took a big sip, relieved to find that it had barely enough rum to taste and even more relieved that her hand didn’t shake and betray her shattered nerves.
“She’s a big girl now,” Justin told his brother, leaning back in his chair arrogantly and daring Calhoun to say a word. His cool smile and level, cold stare had a real impact, even on his brother.
But Calhoun didn’t look any too pleased at the implication of the remark, especially when Justin slid an arm around Abby’s shoulders. In fact, Calhoun seemed almost ready to leap forward and shake his brother loose from Abby.
“I’m tired,” the blonde sighed, nuzzling her face against Calhoun’s arm. “I need some sleep. Eventually,” she teased gently, with a meaningful look at Calhoun’s rigid expression.
Abby lifted her chin, looking straight at him. “Enjoy yourself, big brother,” she said with forced gaiety. She even managed a smile. Thank God for Justin. She lifted her glass, took a sip of her drink and winked at the blonde, who smiled at her, obviously thinking Abby was a relative and no threat even if she wasn’t.
Calhoun was trying to find his voice. The sight of Abby with his brother was killing him. He hadn’t even considered that possibility. And while Justin might not be a playboy, he was a mature, very masculine man, and he had, after all, attracted a beauty like Shelby Jacobs.
Calhoun hadn’t meant to ask the blonde out. She was a last-ditch stand against what he was feeling for Abby, and a very platonic one at that. He didn’t even want her physically; she was just someone to talk to and be with who didn’t threaten his emotions. But he’d never thought Abby might see him with her. It cut him to the bone, embarrassed him. Did Abby care? Try as he might, he couldn’t find the slightest hint of jealousy in her face. She was wearing more makeup than usual, and that dress suited her. She looked lovely. Had Justin noticed?
“I said, I’d really like to go home, Cal,” the blonde drawled, laughing. “Can we, please? I’ve had a long day. I’m a model,” she added. “And we had a showing this afternoon. My feet are killing me, however unromantic that sounds.”
“Of course,” Calhoun said quietly. He took her arm. “I’ll see you later,” he told Justin.
“Sure you will,” Justin mused, his tone amused and unbelieving, and he smiled at the blonde, who actually blushed.
Calhoun noticed then how Abby reacted to the remark. She lowered her eyes, but her slender hand was shaking as it held the piña colada. He felt murderous. He wanted to pick her up and carry her out of here, out of Justin’s reach.
But Justin had his arm around Abby, and he tightened it. “We may be late,” Justin told his brother. “So don’t wait up if you beat us home. I thought I might take Abby dancing,” he added with narrowed eyes and the arrogant smile Calhoun hated.
“Yes, I’d like that,” Abby told him, smiling.
Calhoun felt his throat contracting. He managed a smile, too, but not a normal one. “Good night, then,” he said tautly. He hardly heard what the others said as he escorted the blonde out of the restaurant.
“It’s all right,” Justin told Abby, his voice quiet. “They’ve gone.”
She looked up, her eyes full of tears. “You know, don’t you?”
“How you feel, you mean?” he asked gently. He nodded. “Just don’t let him see it, honey. He’s still got a wild streak, and he’ll fight it like hell even if he feels what you do. Give him time. Don’t hem him in.”
“You know a lot about men,” she said, sniffing into the tissue she took from her purse.
“Well, I am one,” he replied. “Dry your eyes, now, and we’ll take the long way home. That ought to give him hell. He hated the very idea of your being out with me.”
“Really?”
He smiled at her expression. “Really. Chin up, girl. You’re young. You’ve got time.”
“What do I do in the meantime? He’s driving me crazy.”
“You might consider looking for that apartment,” he said. “I hate to see you move out, but it may be the only answer eventually.”
“I’d already decided that.” She wiped her eyes. “But he hates the idea of my rooming with Misty.”
“So do I,” he remarked honestly. “Did you know that she made a pass at Calhoun and he turned her down?”
“Can’t I trust anybody?” she moaned. “Aren’t there any women who don’t like him?”
“A few, here and there,” he mused, his dark eyes twinkling. “I think you might do better to find a room in somebody’s house. But that’s your decision,” he added quietly. “I’m not going to tell you what to do. You’re old enough to decide alone.”
“Thanks, Justin,” she said gently. She smiled. “You’ll make some lucky girl a nice husband one day.”
His expression hardened, and the humor went out of his dark eyes. “That’s a mistake I won’t make,” he said. “I’ve had my fill of involvement.”
“You never asked about Shelby’s side of it,” Abby reminded him. “You wouldn’t even listen, Calhoun said.”
“She said it all when she gave me back the ring. And I don’t want to discuss it, Abby,” he cautioned, his eyes flashing warning signals as he rose. “I talk to no one about Shelby. Not even you.”
She backed down. “Okay,” she said gently. “I won’t pry.”
“Let’s go,” he said, reaching for the check. “We’ll take two hours getting home, and I hope Calhoun has kittens when we get there.”
“I doubt he’ll notice,” Abby said miserably. “She was very pretty.”
“Looks don’t count in the long run,” he replied. He looked at Abby. “Odd, isn’t it, how embarrassed he was when you saw him with her?”
She turned away. “I’m tired. But it was a lovely dinner. Thank you.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Don’t thank me. I had a good time. It beats watching movies at home, anyway.” He chuckled gently.
Abby wanted to ask him why he never dated anyone and whether he was still carrying a torch for Shelby Jacobs after six years. Calhoun had said he was, but Justin was a clam when it came to his private life. And Abby wasn’t about to pry any further. She wasn’t that brave, not even with a piña colada inside her.
Chapter Five (#ulink_bb2f0696-3ce3-5acd-b62f-ed7a85058c0d)
Abby was miserable by the time they got home. She’d done nothing but think of Calhoun and the model. Justin had been kind, talking as if she were really listening to him. But she was reliving those few tempestuous minutes in Calhoun’s Jaguar, when he’d come so close to kissing her and then had insulted her so terribly. She didn’t understand his hot-and-cold attitude or his irritability. She didn’t understand anything anymore.
Justin parked his elegant black Thunderbird in the garage, and Abby was surprised to find Calhoun’s Jaguar already there.
“Well, well, look who’s home,” Justin murmured, glancing at Abby. “I guess he felt like an early night.”
“Maybe he was exhausted,” Abby said coldly.
Justin didn’t comment, but he seemed highly amused and smug about something.
