In the bathroom, Maggie was feeling pretty smug herself. She'd surprised him. Good. Maybe it would start him thinking. She loved him utterly and completely. Now all she had to do was show him, with her own actions. And perhaps, in time, he'd be able to return her love.
But once they were back at the ranch, Gabe was caught up in business. Phone calls, out-of-town trips, a thousand-and-one daily irritations that she couldn't share or prevent. In business, he was still like a stranger—all cold, shrewd logic and hardhitting determination; a real bulldozer.
In bed, everything was wonderful—and it got better all the time. But it seemed to be their only meeting place. And when the custody suit came up in court, Maggie was more nervous than she'd ever been, because she felt alone again.
Becky stayed behind with her grandmother while the adults all met in court for the first time.
"Don't be nervous," Gabe told Maggie quietly. "He won't get her. I promise you, he won't"
But that didn't reassure her. She loved Becky so much. The child had blossomed at the ranch; she was like a different little girl, and she worshiped her new father. She delighted in showing him off to people in town or in Abilene when they went shopping together. And they were like a family, even though Maggie felt more like a housekeeper than a wife. Gabe shared nothing with her except his body. His body was magnificent, and they'd achieved a beautiful peak of pleasure together, but Maggie wanted so much more: she wanted his love. And that seemed to be something he wasn't capable of giving her.
The judge was a woman, black and very beautiful and very young. Maggie's heart sank; she would have felt a little more secure with someone older, perhaps someone with children of her own.
It was just as bad as she'd expected it to be. Worse. Dennis sat beside his attorney, smiling at Maggie with open contempt. His new wife was sitting beside him, more intent on her nail polish than she seemed to be with winning the case. Dennis jabbed her, and she glared at him, blond and beautiful, as she put up the polish and assumed a bored look.
Dennis's attorney accused Maggie of carrying on a long-standing affair with Gabriel Coleman. He added that despite their subsequent marriage, Maggie had been more interested in her own sensual satisfaction than in the welfare of her daughter. He even added a tidbit about Becky's stay in boarding school, which he claimed was obvious evidence that Maggie didn't want her child with her.
Maggie felt sick all over. How like Dennis to twist the truth. She sat there, dying inside, grateful that Janet hadn't been forced to come and hear so many vicious lies.
"Stop looking so terrified," Gabe whispered in her ear, and actually grinned. "It's our turn now. Just listen and you'll find out what we've got on that smiling jackass over there."
She looked up, shocked. Her attorney was on his feet now, a nice elderly man with a voice that carried like that of a Shakespearean actor, deep and rich and authoritative. He had a folder in his hand, which he opened.
"We would like to acquaint the court with Mr. Elaine's most recent activities," he began, glancing at Dennis, who'd just assumed a wary posture. He read from the folder. “On the evening of March 15, he and his...wife...hosted a party that was subsequently joined by two plainclothes policemen. Mr. Elaine and his wife were arrested for possession of cocaine," he added with a bland smile in Dennis's direction. "On the evening of March 18, Mr. and Mrs. Elaine attended a party at a neighboring home. They were observed using cocaine, and participating in a...how shall we put it, Mr. Elaine?" he added, turning toward Dennis. "Orgy?"
"Your Honor," the other attorney broke in, rising, "this is nothing more than a deliberate attempt on the part of the defendant to discredit my client. I feel—"
"I have the arrest record right here, Your Honor," Maggie's attorney said blithely. "Along with a detailed report of Mr. Elaine's activities for the entire month of March, prepared by one of the most respected private detective agencies in Texas." He moved forward. "Your Honor, the defense maintains that Mr. Elaine has no interest in his daughter other than control of a million-dollar trust left for her by her late grandfather. We can show beyond a reasonable doubt that Mr. Elaine is continually in debt, that he gambles, that his amorous activities are not confined to the home, that he uses illegal drugs... In short, we feel that to allow the child to live with him would be nothing less than condemning her to a day-to-day hell!"
"Lies!" Dennis shot to his feet, pale. "It's all lies! It's just her, trying to make me look bad!"
Gabe started to get to his own feet, feeling a red-hot urge to tear Dennis apart for what he'd done to Maggie. His own Maggie. But her hand restrained him. He glanced at her and, miraculously, calmed down. He sat but didn't let go of her hand.
"One more outburst, Mr. Elaine, and I'll hold you in contempt of court," the judge said with majestic dignity. "Continue, please, Mr. Parme-ter."
Mr. Parmeter nodded. "Thank you, Your Honor." He put the file folder down. "Your Honor, my client, Mrs. Coleman, was recently married to Gabriel Coleman. He owns the very successful Coleman Santa Gertrudis Ranch, the C-Bar Cross, just outside Abilene. He is rather well-known in these parts as an honest, responsible, highly respected businessman. He and my client have taken excellent care of the child, Rebecca, and Mr. Coleman is prepared to adopt her—"
"Over my dead body!" Dennis raged.
"Sit down, Mr. Blaine!" the judge said sharply.
Dennis sat, glaring at Gabe and Maggie.
"—as soon as the legalities are finalized," Mr. Parmeter continued. "Your Honor, a little girl's only hope of a happy future lies with you. We entrust her fate to your hands."
Mr. Parmeter sat down. Maggie clung to Gabe's hand, her face white with horror.
The judge studied a paper on her bench and then lifted her head, pursed her fingers and studied both sides of her courtroom. "I don't approve of divorce, as a rule," she began. "I prefer it when people try to work things out, especially if children are involved."
Maggie's eyes closed. Here it comes, she thought.
"However," the judge continued, surprising Maggie, "in this case, I can understand very easily why a divorce was necessary. Mr. Blaine—" she looked at the stiff man beside the fluffy blonde "—having gone over the records provided by the defense, I am certain that remanding Rebecca to your care would be a mistake. Your entire history is one of deception and selfishness and self-indulgence. Once you acquired control of the child's inheritance, and went through it, you would have no more interest in her welfare than you would in a blade of grass.
"Now, I've spoken to Becky," she added, surprising everyone except Gabe and Mr. Parmeter, "and asked her where she thought she'd be happiest." She glanced at Gabriel and smiled. "She told me she wants to live with her new daddy, because he's kinder to her than anyone else in the whole world except her mama."
Gabe bit his lip and looked away. Maggie leaned close to him, her hand clinging to his.
"On the other hand," the judge continued softly, "when I mentioned letting Becky go with her real father, she turned white as a sheet and had hysterics." Her dark eyes narrowed as she looked at a now pale Dennis. "She told me a great deal about you, Mr. Blaine, including some things that she hasn't even told her mother. And you are indeed fortunate that you haven't been charged with child abuse. In fact, if the Colemans would like to press charges against you and pursue them, they would be well within their rights to do so."
"Oh, hell, I don't want the kid anyway," Dennis growled, standing. "I've got a job offer in South America. We're going down there to live."
And smuggle drugs, Maggie thought bitterly. It was just his style, and he'd always threatened that it was an easy way to make money. But someday his own deceit would do him in, she felt sure of it.
"Custody is awarded to the Colemans, with my blessing," the judge said. "And due to the circumstances, visitation rights are denied. Case dismissed."
"She's mine," Maggie whispered, and put her arms around Gabe. "She's mine."
He stared at her for a long
moment. Hers, she'd said. He felt left out, as if he didn't even matter. And there was that blond jackass glaring at him across the room. Suddenly his temper flared again. "Excuse me, Margaret, I've got something to do." He started to stand up, staring at Dennis with an expression that meant trouble.
"No," she pleaded gently. "Please don't."
"I need to," he said between clenched teeth. "I want to break his damned neck!"
Dennis caught his look and seemed almost to hear the words, because he grabbed his blond attachment by the arm and half-dragged her out of the courtroom in a faintly comical exit.
"Must read lips," Mr. Parmeter mused dryly as he collected his papers. "Lucky man. I know that look. I've defended it in murder trials," he added with a meaningful glance at Gabe.
"I wouldn't have killed him, exactly," Gabe muttered, glaring after him. "But I'd have enjoyed breaking his arm."
"Good job that detective agency did," Mr. Par-meter said. "I'm glad we could afford it."
"So am I," Gabe told him, shaking the older man's hand. "Thank you."
"Yes, thank you so much," Maggie added fervently, and hugged him.
"My pleasure, and I mean it. Be happy," he told them, winking as he left the courtroom. Maggie stared after him, wondering if he realized how difficult that might be. Gabe had turned to solid ice, and he hardly thawed all the way home. Worst of all, Maggie didn't even understand why.
Janet and Becky were standing on the porch, waiting for them with nervous apprehension.
"We won!" Maggie called out even as she opened the door. "We won!"
Becky burst into tears, running straight toward them. But it was Gabe she ran to first, and he threw her up in his strong arms, laughing delightedly, hugging her with rough affection.
"How's my girl?" He grinned. "And I do mean my girl."
"I'm fine!" Becky laughed. "Oh, Papa, I knew you'd win!"
He kissed her warmly. Janet came forward to embrace Maggie, who felt oddly left out.
"I'm so happy for you," Janet sighed. "We were so afraid."
"So was I," Maggie murmured. "But Gabe pulled it off. He hired a private detective agency," she added with an accusatory glance at him, "and didn't even tell me. As usual."
He cocked an eyebrow. "You didn't ask."
She turned away. "We won, Becky mine," she said, holding out her arms.
Becky hugged her, too, and planted a happy kiss on her cheek. "I'm so glad I can stay with you and my papa," she sighed against Maggie. "I was scared to death, Mama."
"I know the feeling." She kissed the dark head. "How about some cake? I'm hungry, aren't you?"
"Starved," Becky said, and holding on to her mother's hand on one side, and her grandma's hand on the other, she led them all inside.
That night, Maggie thought it was time she melted the ice between herself and Gabe. He'd hardly looked at her since they'd come home and seemed to draw into himself even more with each passing minute. She couldn't know that her careless remark about Becky being hers now, had cut him to the quick, made him feel used. His old suspicions about why she'd really married him had surfaced, and he was sure she didn't care about him. She'd only wanted him because he could help her keep Becky.
She put on a slinky peach silk negligee after the household had gone to bed, then walked into the bedroom to wait for him. He was a long time coming up: it was well after midnight when she heard his step outside the door.
He opened it, pausing when he saw her draped across the bed in a seductive attitude.
"What is it, payoff time?" he asked with cold sarcasm and a smile she didn't understand. He closed the door with a thud looking dusty and tired and as if he'd worked himself into exhaustion. There were hard lines in his face, around his mouth.
She sat up, blinking. "I don't understand."
"I got Becky for you," he said. "Is this what you've thought up to reward me? The sacrifice of your body?"
"Gabriel!" she cried, horrified. "It's never been that! Surely you know better!"
"Do I?" He took off his hat and gloves and threw them onto a chair, running an angry hand through his hair. "I need a shower, and some rest." He glanced toward her coldly. "Thanks for the offer, but you're more than welcome. Becky's mine, too, now. I don't need gratitude from you."
He went into the bathroom and locked the door, leaving Maggie shocked and speechless. For a long time she heard nothing but the sound of running water, as she sat quietly on the bed, her mind whirling with unexpected thoughts. Did he really think that she'd sold herself to him, just to enlist his aid in keeping Becky? Apparently he did. Then she remembered what she'd said in court. "Becky's mine." When in fact, Becky was theirs....
She got up and paced the floor, puzzling out what to do, how to convince him. She remembered so many little things, then. His anger on her behalf in court, the careful way he put her feelings first, his gentleness in bed. Maybe he didn't know it, but he'd come to care for her. He had to care: why else would her careless remark have had the power to hurt him? And he thought.. .he thought she was only using him! It was almost comical, when she was dying of love for him!
But how to convince him of that? She paced some more. The water stopped running. She had only a few seconds left. If she let that cold wall come down between them, she might never be able to get it up again. Gabriel wasn't an easy man to convince.
And then she found the perfect way. The best way. The most loving way. With a tender smile, she went to her jewelry box and took out a small round pillbox. Clutching it in her hand, she turned to face him when he came out of the bathroom with a towel draped around his hips.
His hair was still damp and mussed, falling onto his brow. His face was dark and hard and formidable. When he glared at her, she saw the old Gabe, the intimidating stranger she remembered from her adolescence, the cold man who never seemed to smile. He looked utterly ruthless but she wasn't backing down. She had her spirit back, now that the fear was gone. And he wasn't winning this time.
She held out her hand. "Do you know what these are?" she asked quietly.
He cocked his head a little, his eyes narrowing. "They're your birth control pills."
“That's right."
She went to the trash can and, holding his gaze levelly, dropped them into it.
There, she thought to herself with a primitive kind of triumph. See if that ties in with your theory, big man.
Chapter Ten
Gabe didn't seem able to breathe properly after she'd thrown the pills away. He stood rigidly, watching her.
“What was that all about?" he asked, his tone curt. "Is that some other way of showing your gratitude, telling me that you want my children? Well, you don't have to go that far. You're welcome, is that enough?"
She hesitated, and while she was hesitating, he whipped off the towel and turned to the mirror to blow-dry his hair. He saw her watching him, but he didn't seem to mind.
Her eyes adored him. He was so good to look at. All muscle. All man. She smiled as her possessive gaze traveled from his dryer-blown black hair down to his very shapely masculine feet.
"Take a picture," he muttered, because her look was bothering him. He wished he hadn't taken off the towel. She was going to get a real eyeful in a minute.
She already had, in fact, and her lips pursed in frankly amused delight. "Well, well," she said, folding her arms across her chest, "and I thought you weren't interested."
He glared at her. "Stop that. Women aren't supposed to notice such things."
She grinned. "Then put your clothes back on."
"I'm getting ready for bed." He put down the hair dryer and reached for a comb,
"So I noticed," she commented dryly.
He slammed down the comb and jerked a pair of pajama bottoms out of his drawer. Pulling them on with an economy of movement, he snapped them up with a violent flick of his fingers.
"Prude," she said softly.
He glared at her. "What in hell's gotten into you?"
She moved towar
d him with a sinuous grace, watching the way his eyes were drawn to her breasts, which were already taut and hard-peaked. The material was so sheer that with the light behind her, he could see right through it. "I want you," she said, smiling demurely. "Doesn't it show?"
"Well, I don't want you," he shot back. "Not this way."
She lifted her eyebrows. "For a man who isn't interested, you sure do have a visible problem."
He actually flushed. "Will you quit!" he cried. "For God's sake, Maggie!"
"Am I embarrassing you?" She clicked her tongue. "Sorry. I thought you wanted me to be a little more aggressive."
"I did. I thought." He scowled at her. His heart was beginning to race. She could see his pulse throb under the dark, hairy mat of his chest. "I don't want gratitude from you. Not when I know that's all you can give me."
There was a deep note in his voice that made her tingle all over. "You sound as if that's not all you want from me," she murmured, smiling gently.
He ran a hand through his thick hair and sighed in angry frustration. "I don't know what I want anymore," he said. "It was all cut-and-dried, wasn't it? We'd get married and keep Becky, and I'd take care of you both. We'd be...friends." He looked up, his eyes possessive, exciting. "But we don't make love like friends, Maggie. What happens to me when I love you...isn't sex. And I don't ever want it to be just physical." He took a slow breath, his pale eyes troubled as he looked at her. "I thought a convenient marriage would be enough. Until today, in court, when you laughed and said that Becky was yours. And I felt like an outsider looking in, like a convenience."
"I know—now. I didn't mean it that way. I'm sorry I hurt you. Because I did, didn't I?" she asked gently, and moved toward him, stopping when she could feel the heat and strength of his body. "And I did it again, today, when I told Janet that you hadn't told me anything about the detective. But it was true. You share nothing with me except your body. You don't want to let me that close.”
His pale eyes narrowed. "You don't know how close I want you," he said huskily, with fierce emotion in his voice. "You don't have the faintest notion."
Books By Diana Palmer Page 26
