by Diana Palmer
Dana flushed. She could tell that Hank was suddenly suspicious. He looked down at her with narrowed eyes, as if he’d taken Betty’s taunt to heart. And his hand was dead in hers, as if he felt nothing when he touched her.
Dana felt his withdrawal. She drew her fingers away. So much for the pretense, she decided. “Hank and I have only been married for two weeks,” she said.
“Yes, dear, but if you’re pregnant, it hardly means you’ve only been sleeping together since you married, or can’t I count?” she asked pointedly.
Which put Dana between a rock and a hard place. She couldn’t admit that she and Hank had only slept together since their wedding, unless she wanted to make herself a liar about the pregnancy. She glanced at Hank, who’d started the fabrication, but he wasn’t helping her now. In fact, he looked as if he hated being tied to her when Betty was within his grasp. Her husband didn’t seem to be jealous at all. It was a frightening thought to a woman in love with a husband whose motives for the marriage had been suspect from the start, and who had admitted that he still felt something powerful for his ex-wife. He’d said, too, that he had no love to offer Dana; only affection.
“Besides, it isn’t as if I’m trying to break up your marriage,” Betty continued. “Bob and I are in terrible financial shape. That’s one reason we’re having to give up our holdings all over Texas and our racehorse. Even if Hank doesn’t want to buy the horse, he might be able to help us find someone who’ll want him. Surely you don’t begrudge us a little advice, for old times’ sake? It’s only Corpus Christi, after all, not some foreign country. It would only mean a night away from home.”
Hank was wavering, so Betty advanced on Bob and draped herself against him with a seductive smile, as if she was making him an offer. “Tell him, honey,” she drawled seductively.
Bob’s face burned with color as he looked at her and he shifted restlessly. “Come on, Hank,” he said. “The stable where this horse is kept is right down the road, about ten miles from where we live. We’ve got plenty of room. You can spend the night and come back tomorrow.” He smiled weakly. “We really can’t afford to wait any longer. I’ve had some health problems, so I have to get this settled now. We were good friends once, Hank.”
You’re being suckered, Dana wanted to scream. She’s using him to get to you, she’s bribing him with her body to coax you down to Corpus Christi so she can seduce you into buying that horse.
Hank felt Dana’s tension. His eyes narrowed as he looked down at her and recognized the jealousy, the distrust. He was feeling much too threatened already by Betty, and he was puzzled by the stormy indecision his own feelings brewed inside him. He felt trapped between two women, one whom he wanted to the point of madness and the other who’d discarded his heart and now seemed to want him again—despite her husband.
He glanced from Dana’s set, angry face to Betty’s coaxing one and felt himself wavering.
“Your wife doesn’t have you on a leash or something, does she?” Betty asked pointedly.
That did it.
Chapter Five
Male pride asserted itself. “I can spare a day or two,” Hayden told Bob with a meaningful glare down into Dana’s flushed face. “After all, we’re civilized people. And the divorce was years ago. It’s stupid to hold a grudge.”
Betty beamed. She’d won and she knew it. “What a nice thing to say, Hank. But you always were sweet.”
Dana felt left out. The other two took over the conversation, and in no time, they were recalling old times and talking about people Dana had never met. She poured the coffee that a disgruntled Tilly had brought on a tray, with cake, and served it to the guests. But she might have been invisible, for all the attention Hank paid her. After a few minutes she excused herself and left the room, without being really sure that he’d even noticed her absence.
Tilly was headed toward the kitchen with her tray right ahead of Dana’s retreat, muttering to herself about men who couldn’t see their own noses. Normally Tilly amused Dana by talking to herself, but she was far too preoccupied today to notice.
She went up the stairs to the room she occupied alone and began to pack. If Hank was going away, so was she. She’d had enough of being an extra person in his life, in his house. If she’d had any hopes that he might one day learn to love her, they’d been killed stone dead with the arrival of his ex-wife. Anyone could see how he still felt about her. He was so besotted that he hadn’t even noticed Dana once Betty flashed that false smile at him. Well, let him leave with his ex-wife, on whatever pretext he liked, and good luck to him!
It took her ten minutes to pack. She threw off the sundress and put on jeans and a knit top and her boots. She braided her hair and looked in the mirror. Yes, that was more like it. She might have been a society girl once, but now she was just a poor rancher. She could look the part if she liked, and Hank surely wouldn’t miss her if she left, not when Betty was ready, willing and able.
Apparently it didn’t matter at all to Hank that Betty was still married, avaricious, and only using Hank to make a profit on that horse. God knew he could afford to buy it, and the woman looked as if she wouldn’t mind coming across with a little payment in kind to reimburse him.
She was going through drawers to make sure she hadn’t left anything when the door opened and Hank walked in.
He’d expected to find her crying. She had a sensitive nature and he’d been unkind to her, especially downstairs in front of their guests. Betty’s remarks had made him feel like a possession of Dana’s, and he’d reacted instinctively by shutting Dana out. Now he was sorry. His conscience had nipped him when she walked out with such quiet dignity, without even looking at him, and he’d come to find her, to comfort her, to apologize for making her feel unwelcome. But apparently it was going to take a little more than an apology, if those suitcases were any indication of her intentions.
“Going somewhere?” he asked politely, and without a smile.
“I’m going home,” she said with quiet pride. “You and I both know that this was a mistake. You can get a divorce whenever you like. The will only required a paper marriage. The property is now mine and I promise you that I won’t sell it to any enterprise that might threaten your horses.”
He hadn’t been prepared for this. He stared at her with mixed feelings.
“It’s a big house,” he said, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“You and Tilly won’t miss me. She’s busy with domestic things and you’re never here, anyway.” She didn’t meet his eyes as she said that, because she didn’t want him to see how much his frequent absences had made her feel unwanted. “I thought I might get a dog.”
He laughed coldly. “To replace a husband?”
“It won’t be hard to replace a husband who won’t even sleep with me…!” She stopped dead, cold, as she realized that the door was standing open and Betty was right there, listening.
Her abrupt cessation of conversation and her horrified gaze caused him to turn, too.
Betty wasn’t even embarrassed. She smiled victoriously. “I was looking for a bathroom. Sorry if I interrupted anything.”
“The bathroom’s down the hall, as you know, third door on the right,” Hank said shortly.
“Thank you, darling.” Her eyes swept over the suitcases and Dana’s pale face, and she smiled again as she left them.
Hank’s face had no expression in it at all. Dana picked up her suitcase. “I’ll take this with me. If you wouldn’t mind, could you have one of the men drop off the rest of my things? I’ve still got my Bronco in the garage, I hope?”
“I haven’t done anything with it.”
“Thanks.”
She walked past him. He caught her arm, feeling the stiffness, the tension in her.
His breath was warm at her temple. “Don’t,” he said through his teeth.
She couldn’t afford to weaken, to be caught up in some sordid triangle. Betty wanted him, and he’d always loved her and made no
secret of it. Dana was an extra person in his life. She didn’t fit.
Her dark blue eyes lifted to his brown ones. “Pity isn’t a good reason to marry. Neither is breaking a will. You don’t love me, any more than I love you,” she added, lying through her teeth, because she’d always loved him. Her eyes lowered. “I don’t want to stay here anymore.”
His hand dropped her arm as if it was diseased. “Get out, then, if that’s what you want. I never would have married you in the first place except that I felt sorry for you.”
Her face was even paler now. “And there’s the way you feel about your ex-wife,” she returned.
He stared at her blithely. “Yes. There’s Betty.”
It hurt to hear him admit it. She went past him without looking up. Her body was shaking, her heart was bursting inside her. She didn’t want to leave but she had no choice, it had been made for her. Even as she went down the staircase, she could hear Betty’s softly questioning voice as she spoke to Hank.
Dana headed for the front door, and a voice called to her from the living room.
“Good Lord, you aren’t leaving, are you?” Bob asked, aghast. “Not because of us?”
She stared at him without expression. “Yes, I’m leaving. You’re as much a victim as I am, I guess,” she said.
His mouth opened to refute it, and the sadness in his eyes killed the words. He shrugged and laughed shortly. “I guess I am. But I’ve lived with it for ten years, with taking Betty away from Hank with my checkbook. Funny how life pays you back for hurting other people. You may get what you want, but then you have to live with it. Some choices carry their own punishment.”
“Don’t they just?” she replied. “So long.”
“She doesn’t really want him,” he said softly, so that his voice didn’t carry. “She wants a way to live as high as we used to, on an unlimited budget. I’ve lost my bankroll so I’ve become expendable. It’s his money she wants, not the man. Don’t give up if you love him.”
She lifted her chin. “If he loved me, I’d stay, I’d fight her to my last breath,” Dana replied. “But he doesn’t. I’m not brave enough to have my heart torn out by the roots every day of my life, knowing that he looks at me and wants her.” Bob winced.
“That’s what you’ve done for ten years, isn’t it?” she continued perceptively. “You’re much braver than I am, Mr. Collins. I guess you love her so much that it doesn’t matter.”
“It isn’t love,” he said coldly, with the most utter self-contempt she’d ever heard in a man’s voice.
She sighed. The needs of men were alien and inexplicable to her. “I guess we’re both out of luck.” She glanced toward the staircase with eyes that grew dark with pain. “What a fool I was to come here. He told me he had nothing to give me. Nothing except wealth. What an empty, empty life it would have been.”
Bob Collins scowled. “Money means nothing to you, does it?” he asked, as if he couldn’t comprehend a woman wanting a poor man.
She looked at him. “All I wanted was for him to love me,” she said. “There’s no worse poverty than to be bereft of that, from the only person you care about in the world.” She made a little face and turned away. “Take care of yourself, Mr. Collins.”
He watched her go, watched the door close, like the lid on a coffin. Oh, you fool, he thought, you fool, Hank, to give up a woman who loves you like that!
Dana settled back into her house without any great difficulty, except that now she missed more than just her father. She missed Hank. He hadn’t been home much, probably because he was avoiding her, but at least he’d given her the illusion of belonging somewhere.
She looked at her bare hands as she washed dishes. She’d left the rings behind, both of them, on her dresser. She wondered if he’d found them yet. She had no reason to wear wedding rings when she wasn’t a wife anymore. Hank had married her because he didn’t want Betty to know how he felt about her. But his ex-wife was so eager to have him back that a blind man could see it. He’d never made any secret of his feelings for Betty. What an irony, that his wife should come back now, of all times, when Dana might have had some little chance to win his heart. Betty had walked in and taken him over, without a struggle. She wondered if she could ever forget the look in Hank’s dark eyes when he’d stared at his ex-wife with such pain and longing. He still loved her. It was impossible not to know it. He might have enjoyed sleeping with Dana, but even so, he’d never shown any great desire to repeat the experience.
She put away the dishes and went to watch the evening news. Her father had liked this time of the day, when he was through with work, when they’d had a nice meal and he could sit with his coffee and listen to the news. He and Dana would discuss the day’s events and then turn off the television and read. She’d missed that at Hank’s elegant house. It was empty and cold. The television was in his study, not in the living room, and she’d never felt comfortable trespassing in there to watch it. She had none of her own favorite books, and his were all about horses and livestock and genetics. He read biographies, too, and there were some hardcover bestsellers that looked as if they’d never been opened at all.
Hank didn’t make time to read for pleasure, she supposed. Most of his material seemed to be business-related.
She curled up in her father’s armchair with tears stinging her eyes. She hadn’t given way to tears in all the time she’d been married, and she wasn’t going to cave in now, either, but she felt entitled to express a little misery while there was no one to see her.
She dabbed at tears, wondering why Hank had tried to stop her from leaving since he’d said he didn’t want her anymore. Maybe it was the thought of ending their brief marriage so soon. It would be hard on the pride of a man like that to have failed more than once as a husband.
After a while, she got up and turned on a movie. It was one she’d seen half a dozen times but she only wanted the noise for company. She had to consider what she was going to do for the rest of her life. At this point, she was certain that she couldn’t go on trying to keep the wolf from the door while she fought to maintain the small cattle ranch. She didn’t have the working capital, the proper facilities or the money to trade for more livestock. The best way to go would be to just sign the whole thing over to Hank before it bankrupted her, and use the trust fund her mother had given her to pay for a college education. With that, she could find a job and support herself. She wouldn’t need help from anyone; least of all from a reluctant husband. There was no alimony in Texas, but Hank had a conscience and he’d want to provide for her after the divorce. She wanted to be able to tell him she didn’t want it.
Her plans temporarily fixed in her mind, she turned her attention to the movie. It was nice to have things settled.
Hayden Grant didn’t have anything settled, least of all his mind. He was on the way to Corpus Christi with Bob and Betty, only half listening to the radio as he followed behind the couple, they in their Mercedes, he in his Lincoln.
He could have gone in the car with them; something he thought Betty was secretly hoping for. But he wanted to be alone. His ex-wife had fouled everything up with her untimely reappearance. Her taunts had caused him to be cruel to Dana, who’d had nothing from him except pain. He’d forced her into marriage whether she wanted it or not, seduced her in a fever of desire, and then brought her home and literally ignored her for two weeks. Looking back, he couldn’t explain his own irrational behavior.
Since the night he’d been with Dana, his only thought had been of how sweet it was to make love to her. He hadn’t dreamed that he could want anyone so much. But his feelings had frightened him because they were so intense, and he’d withdrawn from her. Betty’s intervention had been the coup de grace, putting a wall between himself and Dana.
But desire wasn’t the only thing he felt for his young wife, and for the first time he had to admit it. He remembered Dana at the age of sixteen, cuddling a wounded puppy that some cruel boy had shot with a rifle and crying with anger as
she insisted that Hank drive her to the vet’s. The puppy had died, and Hank had comforted the young girl whose heart sounded as if it might break. Dana had always been like that about little, helpless things. Her heart embraced the whole world. How could he have hurt her so, a woman like that?
He groaned out loud. He wondered if he’d lost his reason with Betty’s return. He’d dreaded it because he thought he was still in love with Betty. He wasn’t. He knew it quite suddenly when he saw Dana with tears in her eyes and her suitcase in her hand. Dana had lived with him for two weeks, and he hadn’t even touched her since their wedding night. He thought of it with incredulity. Now he realized what his behavior had masked. He’d been afraid of falling so deeply in love with her that it would be as it had been with Betty. Except that Dana wasn’t mercenary. She wanted him, and seemed to be ashamed of feeling that way. But she had a tender heart, and she’d cared about him. If he’d tried, he might have made her love him. The thought, once dreaded, was now the essence of heaven.
It was too late, though. He’d let her leave and he wouldn’t be able to get her back. He’d lost her. What the hell was he doing driving to Corpus Christi with two people he didn’t even like?
As he thought it, he realized that they were already driving into its city limits. It was too late to turn back now. He’d do what he’d promised, he thought, but after that, he was going home to Dana. Whatever it took, he was going to get her back.
If only it had been that easy. They’d no sooner gotten out of the car at the Collins’s white brick mansion when Bob groaned and then fell. He died right there on the green lawn before the ambulance could get to him, despite Hank’s best efforts to revive him. He’d had another stroke.
