Cattleman's Choice

by Diana Palmer

  She looked up. Her wide eyes pleaded with him. “Don’t take advantage, will you?” she asked softly. “I’m afraid of you, a little.”

  “Yes, I know you are,” he replied, his voice deep and quiet in the stillness of the room. He reached across the table and took her small hand in his, rubbing his thumb over the silky skin. “Haven’t you ever wanted a man, or was it that exclusive upbringing that kept you innocent?”

  “That exclusive upbringing is the downfall of a lot of girls,” she murmured drily. “Most of the others were quite experienced.”

  “Didn’t you date?”

  That brought back painful memories, and she didn’t want to face them. She shrugged. “I was terribly shy in those days. It was hard for me to talk to men at all.”

  “Not when you got out here,” he chuckled. “I’ll never forget the first time I saw you.”

  “I slapped you,” she recalled with a wicked smile. “I didn’t know at the time how dangerous that was.”

  “I would never hit you back,” he said. “I’d cut off my arm first.”

  “That’s what Jake knows, that’s why I always get rousted out of bed to come and save the world from you,” she laughed.

  He studied her hand. “Jake isn’t as blind as you are, I guess.”

  “Blind?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” He let go of her fingers and lit a cigarette. His eyes searched hers. “Getting dark. You’d better go home, before somebody makes a remark about your being here alone with me after dark.”

  “Would that bother you?”

  “Yes,” he said simply. “I don’t want any blemish on your reputation. I’d fire any one of my men who suggested that anything improper went on here.”

  “It did this afternoon,” she blurted out and then flushed.

  He searched her eyes slowly. “I wanted to see if I could make you want me,” he explained quietly.

  She got up from the table in such a rush that she almost knocked over her chair. “I’d better go,” she faltered.

  He got up, too, and walked along behind her at a slow, steady, confident pace.

  “Was that too crude a remark for a gentleman to make?” he murmured drily. “Sorry, Mandy, I don’t always think before I say things to you. Look on it as getting some sexual experience. You seem to be pretty backward yourself in that department.”

  She turned at the front porch and met his stare levelly. “Are you sorry? Would you rather I was experienced?”

  He reached out and put his knuckles against her lips. “I’d like, very much, to let you get that kind of experience with me,” he said quietly. “Because the way I’d take you, even the first time would be good. I’d make sure of it.”

  She could hardly walk, her knees felt so weak. She headed for her car in a daze, wondering at the explosive quality of their changing relationship.

  “Hey,” he called as she opened her car door.

  “What?” she asked.

  “What time tomorrow night?”

  She swallowed and looked back. He was standing on the porch, leaning against a post. The soft light of the kerosene lanterns outlined his superb physique. He looked devastating, and she wondered what he’d do if she walked back up on that porch and kissed him.

  “Oh…about six,” she faltered.

  “Do I dress?”

  “You’d better,” she said, “if we’re going to do the thing properly.”

  “By all means,” he murmured drily. “‘Night, honey.”

  “Good night, Carson.”

  She drove off, jerking the car as she never had before. Carson was getting to her! She must be off her rocker to let him get under her skin that way. She was the teacher, not Carson. At least, it had started out that way. She had to be careful. Her memories of love were too sweet to let reality interfere with them. She’d learned the hard way that loving was the first step to agony. She didn’t want to go through it again. She couldn’t! From now on, she’d just keep Carson at arm’s length. It was safer that way.

  Chapter Five

  Mandelyn went home and paced the floor until bedtime. And then she tossed and turned for hours, remembering vividly the touch of Carson’s lean fingers on her breast, the fierce hunger of his mouth on her own. She felt on fire for him, and part of her hated the reaction.

  It had been years. Years, since she’d felt passion. She hadn’t wanted to give herself over to it again, and yet Carson had kindled an emotion in her that overwhelmed her tenderest memories of the past. She’d never felt so violent, so hungry. She rolled over onto her back and stared at the ceiling. Perhaps it was her age. Perhaps she’d reached the brink of spinsterhood and was feeling alone, as Carson felt alone.

  She could picture him, blue eyes devouring her face, dark-skinned hands so gentle on her body….

  Of course, it could just be infatuation. He was her creation, after all, she was teaching him. Yes, that could be it. She could be like Svengali, overcome by pride. But if that was it, why did she tingle when she thought about Carson? She closed her eyes and thought about birds.

  Patty came by the office the next day at lunchtime with some documents from the bank. “Here are the loan papers,” she said with a grin. “What time do we meet with that attorney?”

  “Today at five,” Mandelyn said. “Happy?”

  “Just ecstatic,” came the reply. “I’ve got to run out to Carson’s and see about that bull. Want to come along, and we’ll swing by the barbecue place and have lunch on the way back?”

  “Yes, I’d like that,” Mandelyn said. “Angie, just close up at noon when you get your own lunch, okay?”

  Angie nodded. “Have fun.”

  Fun! Mandelyn’s heart was racing wildly as she climbed into the red pickup truck beside Patty. She didn’t really want to see Carson, but he was coming to her house for dinner that night so she couldn’t very well avoid him.

  Carson wasn’t at the house when they drove up. The door was closed and locked.

  “I wonder where he could be?” Patty asked, nibbling on her lip. “Surely to goodness he knew I was coming?”

  “Maybe he’s in the barn,” Mandelyn suggested.

  Patty sighed. “Boy, am I sharp, not to have thought of that. Maybe I should try another profession…yep, look, there’s the ranch pickup.”

  They walked down to the barn. Mandelyn wished she hadn’t worn the spiked high heels that went so well with her jaunty little two-piece blue and white suite. But when she entered the barn and saw the frank appreciation on Carson’s face, she decided it was worth a little discomfort. He was half kneeling beside his bull, with Jake at his side, and he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her.

  Both men got to their feet, and Mandelyn couldn’t help noticing how animated Patty suddenly became. She was wearing jeans and a tee shirt, and had her hair pulled back in a bun, but she still looked feminine and cute, and Carson gave her a big grin and hugged her.

  “There’s my best girl,” he said, and Mandelyn felt suddenly murderous.

  “How’s my patient?” Patty asked, hugging him back while Jake looked at them with an expression Mandelyn couldn’t quite describe.

  “Well, he’s about the same,” Carson sighed, staring down at the bull. He still had an arm around Patty, and Mandelyn found she resented it.

  Patty got down beside the big animal, a Hereford, and checked him over with professional thoroughness. “We’ll try another dose of the same, and see if that won’t do it. He’s improved some, Carson, I think we can save him.”

  “If you don’t, I may never speak to you again,” Carson assured her. “And I’ll guarantee at least five of my cows will die of broken hearts, judging by the way they’ve behaved since he’s been out of action.”

  Mandelyn flushed, but Patty only laughed. “We’ll restore him to his former vigor. Let me get my bag. Mandy, you aren’t in a rush to get back, are you?”

  “No,” came the quiet reply. “I don’t have anything pressing.”

  “Here, I’
ll help with that bag,” Jake said curtly, and walked out of the barn behind Patty with a determined stride. Mandelyn had never actually seen the easygoing foreman move so quickly.

  Carson studied Mandelyn with narrow, thoughtful eyes, hands on his hips, powerful legs apart. “You’re quiet. And you won’t look at me. Why?”

  Her eyes glanced off his and back down to the bull. “What’s the matter with the bull?” she asked nervously.

  He moved closer, ignoring the question. So close that she could smell him, feel him, touch him if she chose. His shirt was half unbuttoned, and she wanted to reach out and rip it open….

  His fingers tilted her oval face up to his eyes, and he looked at her for a long time. “Shy, Mandy?” he asked softly.

  She flushed and tried to look away, but he wouldn’t let her. Her lips parted on a rush of breath.

  “Tonight,” he whispered, making a promise of it as he searched her wide eyes.

  Her lips trembled and he started to bend toward them, his eyes intent, his lean hand moving to the back of her head to position her face where he wanted it. And just as his open mouth started to touch hers, the truck door slammed.

  He laughed. “I seem to spend my life trying to kiss you without interruptions, don’t I, honey?”

  She managed a nervous laugh, too, but her eyes were wary. She didn’t miss the speculative look he sent toward Patty and Jake, or the way he moved quickly back to his bull. Was he trying to make the other girl jealous?

  She didn’t say another word until Patty was ready to go, and then she all but ran for the truck. Carson made her nervous, he intimidated her. She sat there listening as Patty told him what else to do for the sick bull. And all the while Mandelyn never actually looked at him. She was frightened of what her eyes might tell him.

  “You sure were quiet today,” Patty remarked as they ate a hamburger at a local restaurant known for its barbecue. “You and Carson have a fight or something?”

  “Oh, nothing like that,” Mandelyn said. “We, uh, I just couldn’t think of anything to say, that’s all. I don’t know a lot about animals.”

  “I love them,” Patty sighed. “I always did. There was never anything I wanted to be more than a vet.” She glanced suspiciously at Mandelyn. “What was going on in the barn when Jake and I walked in, by the way? You were hot and bothered like I’ve never seen you. Carson make a pass?”

  “You know I don’t feel that way about Carson,” Mandelyn said nervously, making a jerking motion with her hand that knocked over her cup of soda.

  Patty ran for more napkins, and Mandelyn sat there in the ruin of her suit wondering if it would be undignified to scream.

  The rest of the day was no better. She didn’t make a single sale, although she did show one undecided young couple six houses only to learn that at least one major thing was wrong with each. She stopped by the attorney’s office for the closing on Patty’s new building, and then locked up her own office with a weary sigh. She still had to think of something to fix for supper. And Carson was coming!

  She jumped in her car and made a wild rush home to see what she had to cook. Thank goodness there was some chicken she could fry and some vegetables. She took off her suit, put on jeans and a loose shirt, and got to it. She didn’t even think about what lay ahead; it made her too nervous. Things were getting entirely out of hand with him, and she didn’t know what to do anymore. What had begun as a simple etiquette course now promised to be a full-fledged affair if she didn’t watch her step. It occurred to her that he wanted her, physically. But she knew that he could feel that way and still be in love with Patty. It wasn’t the same with men as it was with women. Which made her even more nervous about her own survival instincts. They didn’t seem to work with Carson.

  Just before six, she tried on five outfits before deciding on a demure little yellow sundress. She left her hair down and brushed it to silky perfection, and then stared at herself in the mirror and hoped she didn’t look too eager or too dressed up. She hadn’t been so excited in years, and over Carson, of all people!

  He got there five minutes early, just as she’d finished dishing up the chicken and vegetables. She ran to the door to let him in, and smiled in helpless appreciation at the way he looked.

  He was wearing one of the new outfits they’d bought him—tan slacks with a patterned shirt and a casual white and tan plaid blazer. He was freshly shaven and his hair, under his Stetson, was well-groomed. He smelled of fine cologne and he looked good enough to eat.

  “Well?” he asked impatiently.

  She stood aside to let him in, sensitive to the sweeping glance he gave her. “You look very nice,” she murmured.

  “So do you. Good enough to be the main course, in fact.”

  She grinned. “I’d give you a rash.”

  “Think so?” He tossed his hat onto the chair and there was a sudden sharp gleam in his eyes.

  She knew what he was thinking, and it frightened her. She went hurriedly ahead of him into the dining room, where the table was already laid, including iced tea in tall glasses.

  “I’d just finished,” she explained. “Shall we start?”

  He sighed. “I guess so,” he said with a wistful glance in her direction.

  She stood by her chair while he sat down and shook out his napkin.

  “Ahem!” she cleared her throat.

  He glanced up. “Something wrong with your throat?”

  “I’m waiting for you to seat me.”

  “Oh.” He got to his feet, frowning. The gleam came back into his blue, blue eyes. He pulled out her chair and bent and lifted her in his hard arms. “Like this?” he asked softly, putting her down in the chair with his mouth hovering just above her own.

  “N-not exactly,” she whispered back. Her eyes fell to his mouth, and she wanted it. Wanted it…!

  He seemed to know that, because he straightened with a purely masculine smile on his face and went back to his own chair.

  “This looks good,” he murmured while she tried to get her heart to settle down, her lungs to work again.

  “I hope it tastes that way,” she said tautly. “It was a rush job. I had a long afternoon.”

  “So did I.”

  “How’s your bull?” she asked, handing him the platter of chicken.

  “He’ll make it. He was better after that second shot. Poor old critter, I felt sorry for him.”

  “I thought it was the cows you felt sorry for,” she murmured demurely.

  He studied her downbent head for a long moment before he dished out some mashed potatoes onto his plate. “You ought to come over when I turn him back out into the pasture,” he said drily. “You’d learn a few things.”

  She all but overturned her tea glass, and he threw back his black head and laughed uproariously.

  “All right, I give up, you’re out of my league,” she burst out. “You terrible man!”

  “You need to spend some time around Patty,” he remarked. “She’d put you on the right track soon enough. A girl after my own heart.”

  Which was probably true, she thought miserably. Patty would suit him to a tee. He might want Mandelyn, but Patty appealed to his mind and heart. How terrible, to be wanted only for her body.

  “You put out salad forks,” he remarked. “Why? You didn’t make a salad.”

  “I meant to,” she said.

  “Etiquette,” he scoffed. “I’ll be damned if I understand any of it. A bunch of rules and regulations for snobs, if you ask me. Why dress up a table like this when all you do is eat, anyway? Who the hell cares which fork you eat what with?”

  “Ladies and gentlemen do,” she said, biting down hard on a roll.

  “I’m not much of a gentleman, am I?” he sighed. “I don’t suppose if I worked at it all my life, I’d improve a hell of a lot.”

  “Yes, you will,” she said softly. She studied his craggy face, liking its hardness, its strength. Her eyes fell to his slender hand and she remembered how tender it had been on her ba
re skin. She dropped her fork noisily against her plate and scrambled to pick it up.

  “Do I make you nervous, Mandelyn?” he murmured wryly. “That’s a first.”

  She shifted in her seat. “I’m not used to entertaining men here,” she admitted.

  “Yes, I know that.”

  He was watching her, the way he always did, and that made her more nervous than ever. They finished the meal in silence, and he helped her carry the dishes into the kitchen. Not only that—he insisted on helping as she washed them. He dried them, smiling at her confusion.

  “I’m handy in the kitchen,” he reminded her. “I have to be or I’d have starved to death years ago. I don’t have women over to cook my dinner.”

  She lifted her eyes to his hard face and searched it curiously.

  He looked down at the curious expression on her flushed face. “Yes, once in a while they come over for other purposes,” he said softly. “I’m a man, not a plaster saint, and I have all the usual needs.”

  Her face colored slowly and he grinned. She tore her eyes away, but her hands trembled and she hated that giveaway sign.

  “You’re such a little greenhorn,” he murmured. “You don’t know anything about men and women, do you?”

  “I’m not ignorant,” she muttered.

  “I didn’t say you were. Just innocent.” He finished drying the last dish and put it to one side. “I like that. Your being innocent, I mean. I like it a lot.”

  She couldn’t meet his eyes. He made her feel shy and young and all thumbs.

  “Why hasn’t there been a man?” he asked quietly.

  “Let’s start your dancing lessons, shall we?” she began nervously. She started past him, but he caught her.

  “Why, Mandelyn?” he persisted.

  “Carson…”

  His big hands caught her waist and crushed her body against his. “Why, damn it?” he burst out, his patience at an end.

  Her vulnerability to his nearness shocked her. She panicked and suddenly tore away from him as if she couldn’t bear for him to touch her. She stood with her back to him, shivering.

  She knew he hadn’t liked her withdrawal, not one bit. But she couldn’t help it, he terrified her. She was getting in over her head, and she didn’t know how to stop him, how to handle him. Carson was more man pound for pound than she’d ever seen.