Friends and Lovers

by Diana Palmer

  She drew in a savage breath. “I’ve got plenty of guts,” she shot back. “Why should I be afraid of you?”

  “I’m a hell of a lot bigger than you are, for one thing,” he reminded her.

  “Big deal. The bigger they come, the harder they fall,” she shot back, stiffening.

  “I can’t fall any harder than I already have,” he said enigmatically. “If you leave Houston, I’ll go with you,” he added curtly.

  She felt like grinding her teeth. “Will you be reasonable?” she burst out. “John, I’ve been taking care of myself for twenty-seven years! I’ve gotten very good at it!”

  “You won’t eat right,” he growled, eyeing her. “You’ll do stupid things like trying to change car tires in the heat of the day.”

  “I’ll reform,” she said stubbornly. “I’ll practice not lifting handkerchiefs two hours a day.”

  He got up with a jerky motion and paced, fumbling to light a cigarette. “You could live at the ranch—I’d stay at the apartment. Josito could take care of you. You could have a maid, if you liked.” He took a deep, defeated breath, his eyes empty as he looked down at her, taut and silent on the sofa. “Oh, God, why won’t you marry me?” he ground out. “Have I managed to kill everything you felt for me?”

  The look on his face made her hurt inside. Tears brimmed over in her eyes. She got to her feet and went to him, standing just in front of him, her hands going nervously to the front of his open-throated shirt.

  “You know, don’t you?” she whispered, her eyes wide with anxiety.

  He put the cigarette in an ashtray beside him and straightened. His big hands went to her thickened waist and he drew her very gently against his big, warm body.

  “I may be a man,” he said softly, searching her eyes, “but I know a lot about these things. The fainting, the nausea—this…very attractive weight gain.” He let his hands move lower, touching, hesitantly, the slight swell below her waist.

  “And when you put two and two together…?” she prodded.

  “I went crazy,” he admitted, avoiding her eyes. “Absolutely crazy. I bought out half a toy store and hid the stuff in a closet at the apartment; I went to a bookstore and got everything they had on childbirth and being a parent. Then I sat down and tried to figure out how I was going to tell you that I knew—because you so obviously didn’t want me to.”

  She toyed with a button on his shirt, her eyes closing wearily for an instant. “Because I was afraid you’d do exactly what you have done—insist on marrying me.”

  “We get along well together,” he reminded her. “We always have, until lately. I could give the baby all the material advantages. I’d…care about him,” he added helplessly. He moved suddenly, cupping her face in his hands to force her eyes up to his. “Tell me you want the baby,” he whispered jerkily. “For God’s sake, tell me that, even if you have to lie!”

  He blurred in her vision. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she lifted her hand hesitantly to his crisp, dark hair, stroking it with a tenderness she hadn’t felt in a long, long time. “Of course I want it,” she whispered shakily. “Your child. Our child. I love you so much, how could I not want…?”

  “Love me?” His voice sounded ragged. He stiffened against her, a shudder running through him. He drew her painfully close, wrapping her up, his restless eyes sliding over her, down to the soft swell of her breasts crushed against his massive chest. “Oh, God, if this is a dream, I don’t ever want to wake up,” he whispered. “Love—sweet, sweet love! A baby!” He buried his face hungrily in her soft throat. Something wet moistened her warm flesh as he cradled her in his arms, trembling. “Our baby…And you were going to walk out the door and vanish,” he growled huskily, his voice accusing. “I would never have known what you really felt.”

  She muffled a sob against his shoulder. Her hands entwined behind his head, clinging. “I didn’t want you to marry me because of the baby, because you felt it was your responsibility.”

  “My God, you don’t know me at all, do you?” he mused. “In all my life I’ve never done a single thing unless it pleased me. And marrying you is damned sure going to fall into that category. You crazy woman, did you think it was only because of the baby? The baby is a bonus!”

  Her heart threatened to burst with joy at the expression on his craggy face. “We should both have realized it would happen,” he added gently. “That night we shared was too beautiful not to have borne fruit.”

  She smiled up at him, glowing. “What a very lovely way to put it.”

  He traced her soft mouth with a caressing finger. “I remember telling you before I carried you into my bedroom that I wanted to make love with you. And we did.” He touched her rounded belly lightly, possessively, and smiled. “Love,” he whispered.

  She nuzzled her face into his shirt, feeling shy, embarrassed. He tipped her flushed face up to his gaze and smiled at the loving expression he found there. “Now,” he said, “will you stop dumping spaghetti in my lap and throwing pies at me and stranding me in front of hysterical crowds?”

  She went on tiptoe to brush her mouth against his. “If you’ll stop trailing along behind me and burying me alive in roses,” she agreed. She studied him solemnly. “Do you love me, John?” she asked quietly.

  His eyes closed and opened again. “I’ve never said the words,” he admitted curtly. “Not in my life. Not to Ellen, not to my father. It goes all the way back to the way I grew up, I reckon,” he laughed shortly, making a joke of it. “But, my God, I feel it when I look at you; when I touch you.” He lifted her in his hard arms and started toward the couch with her. “I can’t tell you,” he whispered hungrily, “not…just yet. But I can show you.” He bent, brushing his mouth against hers. “I can show you.”

  He eased her onto the soft cushions, following her down, his body pressed intimately against hers. She felt his fingers slowly undoing the blouse down to her waist and she remembered as his head bent to her rosy breast that she hadn’t bothered with a bra.

  “John…” she whispered as his mouth trespassed on warm, swelling flesh.

  It was different between them now. There was a new tenderness in the way he kissed her. The way he held her. It was as different from physical passion as water is from stone. There was a reverence in it that took her breath.

  Her fingers, trembling, eager, opened his shirt to the waist and ventured inside, hungry to touch the firm muscles, to tangle in the thick covering of hair over them. Her mouth escaped his and pressed against his chest. She breathed in his scent as her lips explored the hard, warm, faintly damp contours. He lay back, letting her be aggressive for the first time, watching her quietly while she learned new things about his bronzed torso, about his reactions to her caresses.

  “Men…like to be touched, too, don’t they?” she asked after a minute, drawing back to look into his soft, loving eyes.

  His mustache curled. “It depends on who’s doing the touching,” he informed her. “You touch me and it’s the Fourth of July. I go up in flames.”

  He looked so devastatingly masculine like this, his mouth sensuous, a look in his eyes that made her body melt against him. The curling thick hairs on his chest tickled her bareness. He stiffened convulsively at the contact and caught his breath.

  Her hands framed his rugged face and she smiled. “I like this, don’t you?” she murmured, peeking at him through her lashes.

  “If you keep this up,” he replied unsteadily, “you may find yourself in deep trouble!”

  She laughed softly, loving him with all her heart. Her fingers traced the hard lines of his face, the deep slow curve of his mouth. “May I ask you something very personal?” she murmured.

  “What?”

  “Did you sleep with Melody?” She had to know. It was like slow poison inside her.

  “No,” he replied, and the truth of it was in his eyes. “Don’t you know that I don’t want anyone but you? Couldn’t you tell that night we spent together that it had been a long time for me?�
�

  “I thought it had, but I don’t know a lot about men,” she reminded him.

  “I haven’t touched another woman since the night I picked you up off the street in the rain,” he said softly. His eyes caressed her, touched her, possessed her. “You’ve been an obsession with me since the beginning, and you’ve never known it. I’ve never let you know it,” he corrected. “You were so damned vulnerable at first. And then, before I knew it, you’d put that burden of absolute trust on me, and my hands were truly tied. Until the night Elise gave that party,” he added, smiling wickedly, “and you looked at me as if you’d kill to have my mouth on yours.”

  She drew in her breath. “I didn’t realize,” she said faintly.

  “And you were so obviously jealous of Melody.” He grinned. “That was encouraging.”

  “I’ll just bet!”

  “It was the opening I’d been looking for, and I took it. Then, when I made that first blatant pass, you took off like a scalded cat, and I was so afraid I’d ruined it all,” he sighed.

  “You frightened me,” she admitted. “I’d never thought of you as a lover until then.” She flushed softly. “I’d never been kissed like that, not even…it made me burn all over. But then, when you didn’t call, I was afraid you didn’t want to be friends anymore. I hemmed and hawed around for days and when I couldn’t stand it anymore, I called and asked Josito where to find you.” She smiled at him lazily. “I hoped you’d take the beer as a peace offering.”

  “I took more than the beer, if you’ll remember,” he murmured, drawing her mouth down onto his in a slow, sweet kiss.

  “Why were you ashamed of the night we made love?” he asked gently. “Were you afraid I’d think you were easy?”

  “Yes,” she admitted. “I thought by giving in, I’d just joined the ranks of your other conquests.”

  “You crazy woman,” he murmured, drawing a strand of her red gold hair across his throat. “I’ve told you, there were no other conquests.”

  “But you let me think there were. And you were horrible to me when I went to stay at Donald’s,” she reminded him.

  He sighed, his eyes pained at the memory. “All I could think of was that you’d hated what happened, and that you were paying me back. You see, Ellen…” He touched her hair. “When Ellen lost her temper with me, she always ran to Donald,” he said, surprising her by saying his cousin’s name. “I don’t think she ever let him touch her, don’t misunderstand me. But Donald was always there when she needed a shoulder to cry on. It did terrible things to me. After a while, I hated them both. When she died, and he went to pieces at the funeral, a lot of things made sense. I shouldn’t have married her. She was Donald’s girl, you know. I should have realized that what I felt for her was infatuation, not something permanent. But by the time I did, it was too late. She had fallen in love with me and I felt responsible for her. But she wanted more than I was able to give her, and that’s my cross.”

  She touched his cheek. “Donald never touched me,” she said gently. “I couldn’t have let anyone else, not after you.”

  “I should have known that, shouldn’t I?” he asked, his voice rich and deep, velvety and full of wonder. “But I had some crazy idea that you preferred Donald.” He sighed deeply. “Let’s face it, love, I’m far from perfect. I’ve got a hell of a temper and I’m not easy to get along with even on my good days. Donald is mischievous, even-tempered….”

  “Very nice and unassuming, and as different from you as night is from day,” she continued. She bent down and brushed her mouth over his. “Then why is it that I still prefer you?”

  He eased her across him and his mouth bit hungrily into hers, the kiss so deep and ardent that she shuddered, moaning softly.

  “I want you so,” he whispered shakily, gazing into her rapt eyes. “In every way there is.”

  She laughed. “In a few months, I’ll look like a pumpkin and two cantaloupes. We’ll see how you like me then,” she challenged.

  “You’re carrying my child,” he said, his eyes dropping caressingly to her stomach. “I’d like you if you looked like a blimp.”

  “I probably will.”

  “You don’t sound too unhappy at the prospect,” he chuckled.

  She shook her head. “I’m not unhappy at all. I like being pregnant.”

  “You don’t feel…trapped?” he asked, concern in his face, his eyes.

  “Oh, no,” she assured him. “Funny, I always thought of any kind of commitment as a padlock on my freedom. But the baby…” She smiled. “I’ve been thinking up names. If he’s a boy, I’d like to call him Cameron Edward….”

  “How about Candy for a girl?” he replied.

  “Done!”

  He laughed wickedly. “And if they’re twins?”

  Her eyes lit up. “John, there are twins on my side of the family, at least three sets that I know of.”

  He sighed. “Mine, too, honey. It was way back, but definitely twins.”

  “You’re not sorry about the baby, are you?” she asked, worried.

  “My God, are you blind?” he asked, one corner of his mouth plunging.

  “Just checking.”

  “We’d better start thinking about dates, places and witnesses,” he observed. “Before very much longer, you’re going to be obviously pregnant, and I don’t want any snide remarks made about my wife.”

  “I’d like a church wedding,” she said definitely. “But a very small one, okay?”

  “Okay.” He twined a long strand of her hair around one finger as he propped himself on an elbow to look down at her pink bareness, feasting on the sight. “God, you’re pretty,” he murmured.

  She couldn’t help the blush. This was still new territory and she lowered her eyes to his hair-matted chest. “Lecherous thing,” she accused coyly. “Getting girls in trouble…”

  “You helped me,” he reminded her with a wicked grin.

  “Temporary insanity,” she pleaded. “I wasn’t responsible.”

  He chuckled, bending to brush his mouth over her soft skin with devastating tenderness. “Liar,” he whispered, the mustache tickling.

  She smoothed the cool, dark strands of hair at his nape, drowning in the sweetness of his mouth as it touched her. “I love you,” she whispered shakily, her eyes closing. “You’re my best friend in the whole world, John Durango.”

  He lifted his head, catching her eyes to read their misty green depths. “You need to hear it, don’t you?” he asked softly. “Women need the words.”

  She managed a smile for him. “I can see it,” she corrected, searching his face, awed at the tenderness, the soft hunger in it.

  He drew in a steadying breath, tracing her mouth with his finger. “I…do love you,” he ground out. “I always will.” He nuzzled his forehead against hers, his eyes closing for a minute. They opened and looked directly into hers. “There’ll never be another woman.”

  “Or another man for me,” she promised, loving him with her eyes. “I’ve been so lonely without you….”

  He kissed her eyes closed, whisper movements of his lips brushing her eyelids, her wet lashes. His body moved, easing gently down over hers, his arms catching the bulk of his weight as his mouth poised a breath away from her waiting lips.

  “Now it’s your turn,” he murmured deeply. “Suppose you show me how lonely it’s been.”

  “I’d love to,” she murmured, smiling as she reached up to bring his head down. She drowned in the sweetness of the long, slow kiss, loving the weight and warmth of his big body, the closeness. She was fighting for breath when he finally drew away.

  “The baby…!” he whispered suddenly, starting to lift away.

  But her arms held him, tender, wanting arms. “You won’t hurt the baby,” she promised with a warm smile. “I asked the doctor,” she added with a twinkle in her soft eyes. Suddenly she laughed. “John, can you imagine what Elise is going to think?”

  He chuckled softly. “If we’d had any idea what was coming,
I’d have had you grab your side and fake an attack of appendicitis. My God, and I told you that you could name it after me…!”

  She buried her face in his warm throat. “The joke was on us, my darling,” she whispered.

  He stiffened, drawing back to look down at her. “Say that again,” he breathed unsteadily, watching her mouth.

  The smile faded. “My darling,” she whispered obligingly.

  He bent, and his mouth parted hers with exquisite slowness, and he eased down again, letting his broad, warm chest melt onto the soft bareness of hers in the silence of the living room.

  She felt the tremor go through him, took his craggy face in her hands to ease it away from hers and looked up into his fiery silver eyes.

  “So you’re going to marry me?” he asked roughly.

  “I think I’m going to have to,” she whispered unsteadily, feeling her body’s instant response to his. “There’s just one thing, though,” she added with a last, faint flare-up of mischief.

  “What?” he asked.

  She ran her fingers into the thick hair over his ears. “I won’t sleep in the bunkhouse with the ten-foot snakes,” she whispered.

  He chuckled softly, bending. “No, you won’t,” he murmured against her soft mouth. “You’ll sleep with me. And I’ll keep you safe through the night, every night, as long as we live.”

  She reached up to draw him down against her. “We’ll live forever,” she promised him, “because that’s how long I’ll love you….”

  Next door, Miss Rose saw the lights in Madeline’s house go off, and her twinkling eyes caught a glimpse of the Ferrari still parked in the driveway. As she closed her curtains with a wistful smile, she already had her busy mind at work on a proper wedding gift.

  *****

  DIANA PALMER

  The prolific author of more than one hundred books, Diana Palmer got her start as a newspaper reporter. A multi–New York Times bestselling author and one of the top ten romance writers in America, she has a gift for telling the most sensual tales with charm and humor. Diana lives with her family in Cornelia, Georgia.