Diana Palmer Texan Lovers. Diana Palmer
sure she hadn’t dreamed the whole thing. She got into her clothes in a daze, shaking with pent-up emotion. She wanted to cry and scream and laugh and dance.
He was talking to someone. His voice was curt and almost angry. Frowning, Abby stepped out into the hall, her mouth swollen, her hair in tangles, her silk skirt hopelessly wrinkled. As she went into the living room, she recognized Calhoun’s guest. It was the blonde from the restaurant, the one he’d taken out the night Abby had gone to dinner with Justin.
“So that’s why you didn’t have time for me,” the older woman said when she saw Abby. “My God, she’s barely out of school!”
“Abby, go back into the bedroom,” Calhoun said.
“Yes, Abby, go and hide,” the blonde added viciously, although tears were visible in her big eyes.
But Abby didn’t. She went quietly to Calhoun and slid her hand trustingly into his.
“I love him with all my heart,” Abby told the other woman. “I guess you probably do, too, and I’m sorry. But I’d rather die than lose him.”
The blonde looked at her for a long moment, and then at Calhoun. “It would have served you right if she hated you, as many hearts as you’ve broken,” she cried, her lower lip trembling. “But that won’t ever happen, any more than you’ll ever love any one of us. Not even she can reach that stone you call a heart!” She turned to Abby. “You’ll never have all of him.” She laughed bitterly. “All he can give you is his body, and he’ll soon get tired of yours and go off to conquer new worlds. Men like him don’t settle down, honey, so if you’re looking for happy endings, you’d better run like hell.”
She gave Calhoun a final, bitter glance and was gone as quickly as she’d arrived.
Calhoun closed the door, his face hard, unyielding.
“I’m sorry you had to hear that,” he said quietly.
“So am I.” Abby searched his eyes sadly, wondering if the other woman was right about his lack of feeling. Perhaps she should run. But how could she, when she loved him?
His eyes narrowed as he saw the indecision and fear in hers. “You don’t trust me, do you?” he asked. “You think she might be right, that you can’t have a future with me.”
“You said yourself that you didn’t want to be tied,” she replied. “I understand.” She dropped her eyes. “Maybe I’m too young for marriage anyway. I’ve never been out on my own at all. I’ve hardly even dated. Maybe what I feel for you is just a crush and my first taste of desire.”
She didn’t really mean what she’d just told him, but it gave him an out if he wanted one. He’d wanted her in the bedroom, and perhaps he’d said things he didn’t really mean. She didn’t want him to feel obligated just because they’d almost gone too far.
But Calhoun didn’t realize that she was trying to save him from himself. He took her words at face value and felt their impact as if they were bullets. She was telling him that she wasn’t sure she loved him, and at the worst possible moment. When she’d put her slender hand so trustingly in his, he’d known for the first time what he felt for her. His feelings went deeper than lust, and they wouldn’t fade. But now he was afraid to tell her, to put the emotion into words. She was admitting that she might have mistaken infatuation and desire for something lasting. She was young, all right, and inexperienced. He might be taking advantage of a natural step in her progression to womanhood. What if he risked his heart and she kicked it aside when she got through this phase? She was young, and she’d bounce back. But Calhoun had never loved before, and the thought of being rejected terrified him.
He stared down at her with bitter realization darkening his eyes to black. He’d fallen into the trap that he’d swore he’d never be taken by. Now here they were, almost lovers, and she was telling him that it was all a mistake. He felt as if she’d hit him in the chest with an ax.
“Would you take me home, please?” she asked without looking at him.
He straightened. “Of course.”
He turned toward the bedroom, and she sat on the sofa, reaching for the purse she’d tossed there when they’d first arrived. She sat twisting and turning it, listening to his quick, sharp movements in the bedroom while he dressed. Her eyes closed in mingled shame and embarrassment. It had only just occurred to her how many liberties she’d allowed him, how close they’d come to making love completely. She hadn’t had the presence of mind to think of stopping, and neither had he. If that woman hadn’t interrupted them—
Her face went hot. He’d been undressing her. He wouldn’t have stopped at all, he hadn’t had any intention of denying himself. And afterward, how would it have been? She’d have been eaten up by guilt and sorrow, and he’d have felt obligated to marry her because she’d been a virgin. He’d have been well and truly trapped.
She didn’t take seriously anything Calhoun had said in the semi-darkness of his bedroom, because men didn’t think when they were engulfed by passion. Even though she was innocent, she knew that much. He’d wanted her for a long time, and tonight had been his one chance to get her into bed. He’d almost taken her. He knew she loved him, and it didn’t even seem to bother him that he was taking advantage of something she couldn’t help.
Calhoun came into the living room minutes later, pale and strained but neatly dressed. He’d even combed his thick blond hair. After one quick glance, she didn’t look at him again. She stood up.
He opened the door for her, noticing her unnatural stiffness. “I don’t know what to say, Abby,” he said quietly. “I don’t know how she traced me here.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she replied, looking only as high as his chin. “It would be unrealistic to expect that we’d never run across any of your discarded lovers.”
His dark eyes flashed fire. He reached beside her and slammed the door before she could get out, forcing her shocked eyes up to his angry ones.
“And that’s what you think you would have been if she hadn’t interrupted us?” he asked coldly.
She ground her teeth together to keep from breaking down. “You weren’t going to stop,” she said.
“I couldn’t stop,” he corrected. “Any more than you could. If you want to know, it was a first. I’ve always been able to pull back before.”
“Should I be flattered?” she asked on a trembling laugh. “Because I’m not. Bodies are cheap.”
“Yours isn’t,” he returned. “Yours is young and sweet and exquisitely formed. Innocent, when I’ve never had innocence in my life. I might have been half out of my head, but I’d have managed to make you want me back and I wouldn’t have hurt you.”
“And after you were through?” she probed, lifting her pained eyes.
He touched her swollen lips with a cool forefinger. “That would have taken all night,” he said softly. “And by then you wouldn’t have had any doubts left about where we stood with each other. I’d have made sure of it.”
She flushed. “I’d have been another conquest….”
He drew her against him, sighing heavily as he smoothed her long, dark hair and felt her body shake with soft sobs.
“It’s just frustration, sweetheart,” he whispered at the top of her head. “You wanted me and I wanted you, and neither of us had fulfillment, that’s all. It passes.”
Her curled fingers pressed against him while tears ran down her pale cheeks. “I hate you,” she cried.
He only smiled, because he understood. He kissed her hair gently. She was so very young. Too young, probably. He drew in a slow, sad breath and wondered how he was going to live without her.
“You’ve got to see Maria about your birthday party,” he said after a few minutes. “She’s