Diana Palmer Texan Lovers. Diana Palmer
she mumbled.
“We want to.” He touched the handkerchief to her red eyes. “I won’t come near you until then, Abby,” he added to her surprise. His dark gaze was quiet and unblinking, and it did wild things to her pulse. “I won’t call you, or take you out, or see you until then.”
“Because of tonight?” she asked with what dignity she still possessed.
“In a way.” He put the handkerchief away and searched her face. “You’re afraid of giving in to me, aren’t you?”
She moved restlessly.
“Aren’t you?” he persisted.
She bit her lower lip. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“I won’t have you forced into a marriage you don’t want,” she said warily. “Calhoun, you aren’t a marrying man. You even told me so.”
He brushed his mouth against hers, and he nuzzled her nose with his, teasing her lips, playing with her mouth.
“Abby, I told you not so long ago that my playboy days were over, and I meant it,” he said softly. “I haven’t lived like a recluse, but in the past few years, I’ve settled down. And if you want the truth,” he added, resting his forehead on hers, “I haven’t thought of any other woman since the night I found you bare-breasted on your bed, little one. You’ve been in my bed every night since then, a vision that haunts me from dawn to dusk.”
Her heart jumped straight up. He’d never lied to her. He wasn’t doing it now, she knew.
“Me?” she whispered.
He smiled gently. “You.” He brushed her mouth lazily with his. “And if you’d given yourself to me in my bedroom a few minutes ago,” he whispered, “we’d have been on our way to get a marriage license by morning.”
“Because of your conscience?” she asked.
He chuckled softly. “Because of my body,” he breathed. “Lovemaking is addictive. The way I want you, little Abby, I’d have you pregnant by the end of the first week.”
She flushed wildly and hid her face from him, feeling his chest shake with laughter.
“Did you hear what I said,” he whispered, “when you warned me about the risk?”
Her heart ran wild. “Yes.”
His mouth bit at hers. “Didn’t it seem an odd response for a philandering playboy to make?”
“You wanted me—”
“God, I still do!” he breathed. “But a man interested in nothing but a good time is sure as hell not interested in making babies, Abby.”
“Stop that!” she whispered.
He smiled against her mouth, delighting in her innocence, in her reaction. He wasn’t worried anymore. Now, at last, he knew why she’d said what she had in front of his visitor. She’d been offering him a way out. But he didn’t want one. He wanted Abby. He wanted a future.
“I’ll take you home now,” he said gently. “And you can have until your birthday to think about me and miss me and want me. And then, if you can’t stand it anymore, I’ll give you a birthday present you’ll never forget.”
“What?” she asked breathlessly.
He covered her open mouth with his own. “Me,” he breathed into it.
Abby pondered that odd remark for the next few lonely weeks. What had Calhoun meant, that they were going to become lovers? Or had he meant something quite different?
He’d taken her home after that last, passionate kiss, and he hadn’t made another single personal remark to her. He’d talked about the feedlot, about things at the house, even about the weather. And he’d left her at Mrs. Simpson’s with a warm, secretive smile, contenting himself with a chaste but breathlessly tender kiss on her forehead.
As he’d promised, he hadn’t called or come visiting. She hadn’t seen him or heard from him since that night. It had been hard going, too. She’d stopped by Misty’s a time or two, pretending to be happy so that her friend wouldn’t ask too many questions. Tyler had asked Abby out again, but she’d refused without really understanding why. She wanted only the memory of Calhoun. If it was all she could ever have of him, it would be more than a lot of lonely women had.
She enjoyed her work at the insurance office, and her bosses were good to her. She settled in without any problem, but she went home to a lonely room, and as the days went by she was almost frantic with the need to see Calhoun.
She’d gone to the Ballenger house to talk to Maria about the party, and she’d left a list of guests for Justin, but to her disappointment both the brothers had been away at the time. She’d managed to get nothing out of Maria, either, except for a careless remark that everything was fine at home and the brothers seemed to be very happy. Which did nothing for Abby’s self-esteem, especially since she missed Maria’s wicked, conspiratorial smile.
The night of the party, Abby drove herself to the Ballenger house. She felt starved for the sight of Calhoun. All her memories and all her fantasies only made it worse.
She was wearing a long electric-blue gown that enhanced her blue-gray eyes and emphasized her exquisite figure. It had soft fabric straps and a crisscross bodice, a fitted waist and a long, narrow skirt. She wore her hair up in a braided coiffure with wispy little curls hanging beside her ears and curling on her forehead. She looked mature and sophisticated. She might not be beautiful, but she felt it tonight, and her face radiated with a glow that only the anticipation of seeing Calhoun could give her.
Maria opened the door and hugged her impulsively. “So lovely,” the older woman sighed. “Everything has worked out so nicely, even the band was on time. Your guests have started arriving. The Jacobses are in the living room with Justin.”
Abby winced, but Maria shook her head.
“No, it is all right,” she said quickly. “Señor Justin and Señor Tyler have been talking cattle, and Señorita Shelby—” Maria smiled sadly. “Her soft eyes feed on Señor Justin like dry flowers welcoming rainfall. It breaks my heart.”
“And mine,” Abby said gently. “I’ll go and keep her company.”
She walked into the living room and smiled at Shelby, who was wearing a long green velvet skirt with a simple chemise top in white silk. She looked exquisitely lovely. Justin and Tyler, in dark suits, rose as she entered the room, both pairs of masculine eyes gazing appreciatively at her dress.
“Happy birthday, honey,” Justin said gently, and went forward to brush his hard mouth against her cheek. “And at least a hundred more.”
“I’ll second that,” Tyler grinned, his green eyes dancing as he bent and kissed her softly on the mouth. “You look delicious.”
“Thank you both,” she replied.
“I remember my own twenty-first birthday,” Shelby sighed after she’d hugged Abby and congratulated her. “It was very special.” Her eyes went helplessly to Justin, who stood very still and looked at her, his dark eyes full of emotion.
Abby could have cried. She hadn’t understood before, but now she knew how devastating it could be to want someone that much. She looked around the room. There were several other people there, friends from school, who waved and lifted their glasses in her direction. She smiled back, but her heart was getting heavier by the second.
“Justin, where’s Calhoun?” she asked finally.
Justin took a draw from his cigarette and dragged his gaze away from Shelby. Abby had asked the question he’d dreaded ever since she’d walked in the door.