Diamond Spur. Diana Palmer
next week, and it was already Thursday. Her mind went back to the way he’d kissed her. She smiled, going off into a daydream where she was a famous designer and Jason was her husband, and he was accompanying her to a grand show in New York during one of the market weeks. She’d glitter, and he’d be so proud of her. She’d be hailed on the street in her famous finery, and Jason would accompany her to parties....
She blinked. Jason wouldn’t be at any of those parties for the simple reason that he didn’t approve of her designing aspirations. He still thought a woman belonged in the bedroom or the kitchen, and he wasn’t likely to change overnight.
A part of her mind kept asking why she was mooning over a man who wouldn’t want her the way she wanted to be, and who would expect his wife to stay home, have babies, and help entertain his business guests. She couldn’t face those limits, so she ignored them. At the moment, all she could think about was the sweet savagery of his mouth and the unexpected pleasure of loving him. If the lovely dream only lasted for a few days, until she came to her senses, she was going to enjoy it while it did. He was right. It was better to live for the moment rather than worry about the future. Because for her and Jason there was no future.
She and Mary were getting ready to leave the house the next morning when Jason unexpectedly showed up at the back door with a basket of beans.
“Sheila sent them,” he told Mary, putting them on the counter in their wicker container. “She thought the two of you might like some fresh ones, and she tucked in a bag of frozen ham hocks to cook them with.”
“The darling,” Mary enthused. “Thank her for us. Would you like a biscuit and some coffee?”
“I’d like that, thanks.” He grinned as he glanced toward the doorway where Kate suddenly appeared, breathlessly plaiting her hair with a blue ribbon that complemented her denim skirt and blue dotted Swiss short-sleeved blouse.
“Oh!” Kate exclaimed, stopping short. Her hands froze in midair for a second and her face colored. He was in working gear, jeans and a chambray shirt carelessly unbuttoned at the throat, with a blue bandanna tied at his neck and that battered black Stetson on his head. His spurs jingled on boots too worn to be decent. But he looked very masculine and unbearably handsome to Kate’s adoring eyes. She smiled at him unexpectedly, and he held her eyes until she had to drag them away.
“I’ll get the coffee,” Mary murmured, turning away to get another cup with a knowing smile.
Kate finished tying her braid and sat down at the table where biscuits sat on one platter and bacon and sausage on another. They hadn’t bothered with eggs because neither of them cared for them.
“If you want an egg, I’ll cook you one,” Kate offered as Jason sat down beside her.
“No, thanks, honey, I’ve had breakfast once already, about five this morning.” His leg brushed hers and he smiled at her nervous reaction. “I like the ribbon.”
“Thank you.” She glanced into his dark eyes and shivers of sensation ran through her body. It was exciting to look at him, all of a sudden. She felt the magic like electricity as he searched her soft eyes.
“How’s roundup going?” Mary asked when she came back with the coffee and broke the spell.
“Oh, not so bad,” Jason told her. He took a biscuit and filled it with bacon that was crisp and browned just right. “We had one busted leg, two broken ribs, a crushed foot, and fifteen stitches in a leg. Other than that, I guess it’s going fine.”
Kate grimaced. “Well, at least it wasn’t your fifteen stiches,” she said. She creamed her coffee and offered him the faded little cream pitcher that once had boasted a patch of strawberries on one side. Now there was little more than a faded leaf and a few unrecognizable dots of red where it had been.
Jason’s lean, dark hand took it from hers and didn’t let go for several seconds. Kate could hardly breathe. His touch ignited her like fire. She looked at his somber face, feeling the hunger in him like a living thing because it was echoed in her own body.
She remembered how hungrily they’d kissed two nights ago, and her eyes fell to his hard mouth with frank delight. He saw it, and his lips parted. She looked up again, catching the same need in his dark, narrowing eyes.
Neither of them moved. Life seemed to be locked in slow motion for a space of seconds while their eyes said things their mouths couldn’t. Jason abruptly poured cream in his coffee and asked Mary about selling off a few head of the cattle he oversaw for her on the boundary of his own property.
“Go ahead and do what you think best, Jason,” Mary said without argument. “You know I’ve no head for business. If we sell now, will we get enough to make the next mortgage payment?”
“With some to spare,” he told her. “The market’s up just temporarily. This is a good time to get rid of the culls.”
“Are you selling some of yours?” Kate asked, just to show him that she wasn’t too tongue-tied to talk.
“I’ve got a few dry cows and some open ones I’m going to sell off,” he agreed.
“Pitiful,” Kate murmured over her biscuit. “Getting rid of a poor little cow because she isn’t expecting.”
“I can’t afford to keep poor little cows who aren’t expecting,” he returned with a faint smile. “In a cow-calf operation, calves pay the bills. If mama doesn’t earn her keep, off she goes into somebody’s frying pan.”
“He’s a cannibal,” Kate told Mary with a straight face.
“He’s a businessman,” Mary argued.
“Same difference,” Kate returned, grinning impishly at Jason.
He laughed, the sound deep and pleasant in the silence of the cheerful little kitchen. “It takes a cannibal to make money these days,” he admitted. He ate his biscuit and sipped his black coffee. “Well, Gene’s trying to convince me to back him in an art show. He needs up-front money for supplies. Damn, those paints are expensive!”
“I know,” Kate said gently. “But he’s good, Jason. He’s really good.”
He drained the thick white mug, one of the new ones Kate had bought, and put it down on the red-checkered oilcloth that adorned the table. “Kate, there are a lot of good artists in the world. But it takes a great one to make any money. And most of them,” he added somberly, “die poor. He’s got Cherry to support, and someday there’ll be children. He needs to think about them, not about his own pipe dreams. Dreams won’t put bread on the table, or clothe children. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to support him into old age. He’s going to have to start pulling his weight around the Spur.”
Kate wanted to argue, but Jason looked dug-in, and she didn’t want to start something else. It was Gene’s problem, after all, not hers. If he wanted to live his own life, he was going to have to fight Jason himself. Kate didn’t envy him that challenge, either. Jason was a formidable enemy.
“How’s your arm?” Kate asked.
He flexed it, rippling the muscle under the nice fit of the fabric. “Fine,” he said. “I haven’t had a problem with it.” He glared at her. “And I would have healed just fine without being dragged to the doctor.”
“I do realize that, Jason,” Kate said sincerely. “And I promise the next time Gabe begs me to look at your torn and bleeding body, I’ll put a sack over my head and hold my ears shut.”
He pursed his lips, and his dark eyes twinkled. “Would you, really?” he asked. His voice had a new softness when he spoke, his face was more relaxed than Kate had ever seen it.
She sighed, studying him. “I guess not, since you’re the only friend I’ve got.”
“I’ll put the dishes in the sink,” Mary murmured, glancing delightedly from one to the other of them. As she puttered around the kitchen, Kate got to her feet. Kate hadn’t expected Jason to stand