And she'd always thought of herself as too small to appeal to a man. Her fascinated gaze held his. "Do you really think so?"
He laughed softly. "Yes, I really think so. Go to bed, damn it How long do you think I can sit here calmly talking about your breasts without stripping you and throwing you down on the carpet?"
"How uncivilized," she commented haughtily.
"Exciting." His eyes glittered wickedly. "Your bare back on that rug, and my body grinding you down into it with the door unlocked...."
She turned, catching her breath. "I'm going to bed."
"I wish I was going with you," he sighed, reaching for his brandy snifter. "Maggie..."
She paused, her hand on the doorknob. "Yes?"
"I want a few days to see how Becky adjusts. Then, if she likes it, you and I will talk and come to a decision about what needs doing."
She stared into his narrowed, quiet eyes. "I don't understand."
"Oh, I think you do," he said, and held her gaze until her heartbeat shook her. "I think you know exactly what I mean, after tonight."
She held on to her nerves with shaky control. "I may not be able to give you what you want," she said. "Dennis...changed me. What we've done is sweet, and I like it. But..."
"But you aren't certain you can give yourself to me, is that it?" he asked with quiet perception.
"That's it exactly," she said miserably.
He pursed his lips to search her eyes. "Maggie, if it helps, I'm not insensitive to what you must feel about intimacy. But I think you're overlooking one important factor."
"What?"
"I'm not your ex-husband," he said. "I've never hurt a woman deliberately. I'm not a sadistic man."
"Oh, I know that," she told him. "I've always known that."
"Then give me credit for a little sensitivity," he replied. "Trust me."
"Trust is hard."
"Tell me about it." He chuckled darkly. "Or have you forgotten that I've had some hard knocks of my own in that department? Mother told you that I got hurt, but I'm the only one who knows how badly. I loved her. Or thought I did," he added, and for the first time he wasn't really sure. It all seemed very far away now, with Maggie here, lovely and tempting.
"I'm sorry about that."
"I'm sorry about your rough time, too, honey," he said softly. "But that's in the past. You and I have Becky to think about. If we don't do something, you may lose her."
"I know," she murmured.
"Don't worry," he said. "He'll have to go through me to get her, court or no court. But maybe there's an easier way. I've got an idea. I'll tell you if it pans out. Good night."
"I haven't even thanked you," she said suddenly, "for all you've done."
His eyes traveled slowly to her mouth. "Haven't you?" He raised the snifter, smiling as she turned, flustered, and left him there.
Chapter Six
Becky seemed like a different child on the big ranch. Despite the demands of his position, and his sore arm, Gabe found time to help her get used to her new environment.
He put her on a horse the day after she arrived, while Maggie stood with her hands clenched, murmuring soft prayers.
"It's all right, honey," Gabe told the nervous little girl as he helped her onto a small mare, grimacing as he forced his arm to perform the minor task. Becky was light, but any pressure still caused him some problems. "She's old and gentle. Your mother used to ride her, in fact," he added, glancing toward Maggie with a grin. "Remember Butterball?"
"That isn't Butterball!" Maggie exclaimed. "But Gabe, she'd have to be twenty-five years old."
"She's twenty-six," he said. He checked the cinch and put the reins in Becky's hands, teaching her how to sit the horse, how to hold it in check, how to keep her knees and elbows in and guide the horse with the faintest pressure of her legs.
"You sure know a lot about horses," Becky said with shy admiration, her soft green eyes glancing off his.
"I've worked around them all my life," he replied. "I love animals. I took courses in veterinary science in college and almost had a degree in it."
"I like animals, too," Becky said enthusiastically. "But we never got to have any," she added, looking away sadly. "Daddy was allergic. And when we came away, Mama had to work and I had to go away to school. They don't let you have dogs at school."
"Do you want a dog?" Gabe asked her, ignoring Maggie's frantic signals and head shaking. "Because Bill Dane down the road has a litter of registered collies. If you want one, I'll get it for you."
Becky's face was fascinating—a study in admiration, excitement, surprise and pure delight. "You would?" she whispered.
Maggie shut up. She'd let the dog sleep in the parlor. She'd buy it a house. Whatever she had to , do, it would be worth it to see that young face so happy. She hadn't even known Becky wanted a pet.
"I would," Gabe said, and grinned. "If your mother doesn't mind," he added belatedly, cocking an eyebrow at Maggie.
"Of course her mother doesn't mind," Maggie murmured, and made a face at him.
He laughed. "I thought you wouldn't. Closing the gate after the bull gets out, don't they say," he added.
"I like dogs," she said.
"Me too!" Becky burst out, her ponytail bobbing as she stared down at Gabe. She started to reach out but abruptly brought her hand back to her reins, and her small face closed up all over again.
Maggie felt tears sting her eyes. She'd have to tell him, later, how great a step that was for Becky, who avoided any physical contact with people she didn't know—especially men. Just the inclination to reach out was a milestone in the child's life.
But he seemed to know, because when he looked toward Maggie he wasn't laughing. And the eyes that met hers were dark with a kind of pain.
"Can we go now? Right now?" Becky asked excitedly. "Can we get a puppy today?"
"First we go riding," Gabe said. "Then we'll see."
"All right," Becky sighed.
"Becky," Maggie chided. "Where are your manners?"
"In my back pocket." Becky grinned "Want to see?"
It was a sharp and delightful change to see her shy little daughter so vividly happy and outgoing. Maggie smiled up at Gabe, the sunlight turning her eyes as green as grass.
He winked at her before he turned to give her the reins of her own mount "Can you get up all by yourself?" he asked in a gently mocking tone of voice.
She glared at him. "I know how to ride," she replied indignantly—and then ruined everything by missing the stirrup.
He caught her arm with his good hand and kept her upright. "Pilgrim," he accused. He steadied her while she got her booted foot into the stirrup and threw the other leg over gracefully. The steely hand on her arm wasn't doing a lot for her nerves, but she didn't refuse the offer of assistance.
He gathered the reins of his own horse and stepped easily into the saddle, looking so much at home up there that Maggie just stared at him.
"Stay right with me, honey," Gabe told Becky, moving into step with her horse. "There's nothing to worry about. I'll take care of you."
"All right," Becky said. Her small hands gripped the reins just as Gabe had taught her to. She glanced at him to make sure she was doing it right, and he nodded.
Maggie trailed along beside Gabe on the wide farm road, drinking in the beauty of vast horizons and grazing cattle and the feel of the warm spring breeze in her hair. There had been other times like this, long ago, when she and his sisters had gone riding. Sometimes they'd meet him unexpectedly on the trail, and her heart would run wild. It might have been only a schoolgirl crush, but it had hurt when she hadn't seen him again. Her eyes adored him unconsciously, admiring the powerful length of his body, the straightness of his carriage, the lean hands so deft and strong on the reins. He was exceptional. He always had been. And she might marry him....
The thought disturbed her. She'd been wrong about Dennis. What if she was wrong about Gabe? It was different, living with someone. You never knew peop
le until you lived with them.
He turned his head, studying her in a somber silence. "You're too quiet," he said. "Say something."
"She's always quiet," Becky told him. "She doesn't talk much."
"She used to," Gabe returned with a grin. "She never shut up, in fact."
"I only blabbered because you made me nervous," she shot back, and then cleared her throat when she realized what she'd confessed.
"Your mama had a crush on me," Gabe said arrogantly, lifting his chin at a cocky angle as he studied Maggie with knowing eyes. "She thought I was the best thing since buttered bread."
Becky giggled, and Becky's mama ground her teeth together. "Why didn't you marry my mama, Uncle Gabe?" Becky asked suddenly.
Maggie wanted to get under the horse. She bit her lower lip while Gabe stared at her under the wide brim of his hat and pursed his lips thoughtfully.
"I was afraid she wouldn't be happy with what I had to offer her, back then," he said matter-of-factly and without embarrassment. "We weren't always well-to-do, young lady," he added with a gentle smile. "We had some hard times here for a while. It was during those hard times that I lost track of your mother."
Maggie stared at him, fascinated. Was it just for Becky's benefit—a little white lie—or was he telling the truth?
He caught her intent scrutiny and grinned, his pale eyes making a joke of it. She smiled back, but something inside her closed up like a flower in the darkness: she'd wanted it to be true.
"Down this way," Gabe said suddenly, turning Becky's mare. "I've got something to show you."
There was a little path down to the creek, and near it were several cows with calves.
"Baby cows!" Becky burst out. "Could I pet one?"
"Oh, Gabe, no, those are longhorn cows!" protested Maggie, who'd once been chased by a mad mama longhorn.
"These are old pets," Gabe replied easily, dismounting. "They won't hurt her. Come on, baby."
He reached up his arms. Becky hesitated, but in the end she let him swing her to the ground. And this time he made sure she didn't see him grimace.
"These are just a few weeks old," he told her, keeping between the young girl and the old cows.
"Go easy, now. You can win over most any creature if you're just slow and careful and talk soft. Ask your mama."
Maggie blushed furiously as he glanced over his shoulder with a mischievous grin.
Mercifully, Becky didn't understand what he was saying. Her wide eyes were on the calves. She moved close to a young one and touched it between the eyes, where it was silky. It tried to nibble on her hand, and she jerked back with a delighted laugh.
"Oh, isn't she pretty?" Becky cooed, doing it again.
"He," Gabe corrected. "That youngster is going to grow up to be a good young bull."
"Not a steer?" Maggie asked.
"Not this one. See the conformation?" he asked, gesturing toward the smooth lines of the young animal. "He's already breaking weight-gain ratio records. I want to breed this one."
"How do you keep up with so many cattle?" Becky asked unexpectedly.
"I have a big computer in my office," he told her. "I have every cow and calf I own in it. Ranching is moving into the twentieth century, honey. We don't use tally books too much anymore."
"What's a tally book?"
He explained it to her, about the old-time method of counting cattle, about the days when every ranch owner would send a rep to roundup to make sure none of his cattle were being appropriated.
"That's still done in these parts, too," he added, leaning against a tree to smoke a cigarette while Becky stroked the calf. "We have quite a crowd here when we start branding and moving cattle, and at the end of it I throw a big barbecue for the neighbors. We help each other out, even on a ranch this size."
"Do you really use those airplanes to round up cattle?" Maggie asked.
"Sure. The helicopter, too. It's a great time-saver when you're moving thousands of head." His pale eyes moved slowly down Maggie's body, over the white knit short-sleeved sweater and the neat jeans that hugged her rounded hips and long, elegant legs.
"It's hard work, too," she said, burning under bis frank appraisal.
"Very hard." He lifted the cigarette to his mouth, glancing at Becky, who was talking softly to the calf while its mother watched with indulgent interest. "I get ill-tempered this time of year."
"I did notice," Maggie began.
He turned, crushing out the cigarette as he started toward her. "Did you?"
She backed up. Surely he wouldn't...not with Becky watching!
He intimidated her back against a large oak tree and kept her there with just his presence. "What was that," he asked politely, "about noticing I was ill-tempered?"
"You would have sent me packing, but for your mother," she reminded him.
"Not really." He smiled at her gently. "You started getting under my skin all over again, that first day. I might have let you get as far as packing, but I'd have found an excuse to keep you here."
Her heart began to run wild. Becky wasn't even watching.
Gabe moved a little closer, leaning one arm, the uninjured one, beside her head against the tree. The action brought him so close that she could smell the tobacco on his breath, feel the muscles cording in his powerful legs and chest.
His eyes dropped to her mouth. "I can almost taste the coffee on your breath," he whispered. "And if Becky was a few yards down the creek, I'd ease my body down on yours and let you feel the effect you have on me in those tight little jeans."
Her breath caught. "Gabriel!"
"Don't try to pretend you don't know it, either," he continued. His eyes dropped. "That sweater doesn't hide what you're feeling."
Maggie frowned slightly. Her eyes followed his, and she could see the tautness in her nipples even through the flimsy bra and knit top.
"You know, don't you, that your body reflects desire that way?" he whispered, searching her wide eyes. "Why do you think men get so stirred by a woman who isn't wearing a bra?"
"I...I am wearing one," she began.
"It doesn't cover much, does it?" He frowned. "Don't go around the men that way," he added suddenly. "I can't afford to fire anybody this week."
Her eyebrows arched. "But—"
"You have pretty breasts," he whispered softly, holding her eyes.
She tingled from head to toe. Her breath wouldn't let out. Gabe's eyes were drowning her, she couldn't get to the surface. The whole world was pale blue, and her body was trembling slightly, burning up inside. Her lips parted, and she made a soft, barely perceptible movement toward him.
"You shouldn't talk that way to me," she breathed"You shouldn't let me," he whispered back. "If you keep encouraging me, I'll make love to you."
"You can't."
"Sure I can." He nuzzled her nose with his. "So can you. I don't mind if you sleep with me."
"There's Becky."
He smiled. "Becky is quite a girl. She'll make a rancher before she quits."
"That isn't what I meant," Maggie replied. She touched his chest, liking the feel of hard muscle under the warm shirt. "You're very hairy there," she said absently, and caught her breath when she remembered how his chest felt against her bare skin.
"You always seemed to like that," he murmured, watching her. "At least you sure stared when I stripped off my shirt while I was working."
She swallowed. "You...you're very nicely built."
He smiled. "So are you."
Maggie smiled back. She felt shy and giddy, all at once.
They stared at each other for a long moment, eyes meeting eyes, curious and then quiet and probing and intense. She felt her breath quicken, saw his chest rise and fall heavily.
"I’m on fire," he whispered huskily. "I want your hands on my bare skin."
She trembled because she wanted it, too. "We...aren't alone."
"How fortunate for you," he replied curtly. "Because if we were, I'd lay you down, so help me."
Her body reacted to his threat in a wildly responsive way. She tried to get a deep breath and couldn't.
"No comment?" he asked. "No urge to cut and run? Or doesn't the thought of having sex with me frighten you anymore?"
"It would be...more...than that," she whispered. "Wouldn't it?"
"More than you can imagine, honey," he replied evenly, searching her soft eyes. "You and I would go up in flames if we got in bed together."
Her mind was seeing that. Seeing his long, nude body stretching against hers on cool, striped sheets, feeling his muscles ripple as her hands smoothed over them and savored their warm, rough strength.
"My God, don't look at me like that," he cried harshly, and actually shuddered. "I can read your mind!"
Her lips parted on a trembling breath. "So beautiful," she murmured. "That...with you."
Gabe caught her arm with his hand, holding it with such fierce ardor that she welcomed the discomfort. Her head tilted back, her mouth invited his.
"I can't kiss you like that with Becky here," he said in a hoarse undertone. "God, I couldn't even stop once I started! I'd devour you."
"I'd let you," she whispered softly. "I'd let you do anything...."
He turned away with a hard groan, letting go of her arm. "Becky, want to see the wildflowers?" he called. His voice didn't seem quite normal but Becky didn't notice. She was still petting the calf with fascination.
"Sure!" she called back, laughing.
Maggie eased away from the tree on shaky legs. She wasn't at all sure how to handle these new, explosive emotions. Gabe was wearing her down without even trying. And now she wanted him, as she hadn't even in her youth. She couldn't think what was best anymore. She wasn't at all sure that she could leave him.
"Come on, slowpoke," Gabe called to her, smiling, although his eyes were blazing as they met hers. "Let's get going."
She waited for him to boost her into the saddle after he'd helped Becky up. But he was towering over her, so close that she could feel the warmth of his body.
"I've got to," he whispered sharply as Becky turned her horse away from them. "Just for a second!"
Books By Diana Palmer Page 20
