"I'll square it with Evan."
"Thank you." She twisted her purse and stared out the window, her sad eyes shadowed.
"How long has it been?"
She sighed softly. "Almost a month. I should be used to it by now, shouldn't I?"
"It takes a year, they say, to completely get over a loss. We all mourned my stepfather for at least that long."
"Your name is Tremayne, like your brother's."
"And you wonder why? My stepfather legally adopted me. Only a very few people know about my background. It isn't obvious until you see me next to my half brothers. They're all dark-eyed."
"My mother was a redhead with green eyes and my father was blond and blue-eyed," she remarked. "I'm dark-haired and gray-eyed, and everybody thought I was adopted."
"You aren't?"
She smiled. "I'm the image of my mother's mother. She was pretty, of course..."
"What do you think you are, the Witch of En-dor?" he asked on a hard laugh. He glanced at her while they stopped for a traffic light. "My God, you're devastating. Didn't anyone ever tell you?" "Well, no," she stammered.
"Not even your husband?"
"He liked fair women with voluptuous figures," she blurted out.
"Then he should have married one," he said shortly. "There's nothing wrong with you."
"I'm flat chested," she said without thinking. Which was a mistake, because he immediately glanced down at her bodice with a raised eyebrow that spoke volumes. "Somebody ought to tell you that men have varied tastes in women. There are a few who prefer women without massive...bosoms," he murmured when he saw her expression. "And you aren't flat-chested."
She swallowed. He made her feel naked. She folded her arms over her chest and stared out the window again.
"How long were you married?" he asked. "Well...four months," she confessed. "Happily?"
"I don't know. He seemed so different before we married. And then I got pregnant and he was furious. But I wanted a baby so badly." She had to take a breath before she could go on. "I'm twenty-five. He was the first man who ever proposed to me."
"I can't believe that."
"Well, I didn't always look like this," she said. "I'm nearsighted. I wear contact lenses now. I took a modeling course and learned how to make the most of what I had. I guess it worked, because I met Tim at the courthouse while I was researching and he asked me out that same night. We only went together two weeks before we got married. I didn't know him, I guess."
"Was he your first man?"
She gasped. "You're very blunt!"
"You know that already." He lit a cigarette while he drove. "Answer me."
"Yes," she muttered, glaring at him. "But it's none of your business."
"Any particular reason why you waited until marriage?"
The glare got worse. "I'm old-fashioned and I go to church!"
He smiled. It was a genuine smile, for once, too. "So do I."
"You?"
"Never judge a book by its cover," he murmured. His pale eyes glanced sideways and he laughed.
She shook her head. "Miracles happen every day, they say."
"Thanks a lot." He stopped at another red light. "Which way from here?"
She gave him directions and minutes later, he pulled up in front of the small apartment house where she lived. It was in a fairly old neighborhood, but not a bad one. The house wasn't fancy, but it was clean and the small yard had flowers.
"There are just three apartments," she said. "One upstairs and two downstairs. I planted the flowers. This is where I lived before I married Tim. When he...died, Sam and Joan insisted that I stay with them. It's still hard to go in there. I did a stupid thing and bought baby furniture—" She stopped, swallowing hard.
He cut off the engine and got out, opening the door. "Come on. I'll go in with you."
He took her arm and guided her to the door, waiting impatiently while she unlocked it. "Do you have a landlady or landlord?"
"Absentee," she told him. "And I don't have a morals clause," she added, indicating her evening gown. "Good thing, I guess."
"You aren't a fallen woman," he reminded her.
"I know." She unlocked the door and let him in. The apartment was just as she'd left it, neat and clean. But there was a bassinet in one corner of the bedroom and a playpen in its box still sitting against the dividing counter between the kitchen and the dining room. She fought down a sob.
"Come here, little one," he said gently, and pulled her into his arms.
She was rigid at first, until her body adjusted to being held, to the strength and. scent of him. He was very strong. She could feel the hard press of muscle against her breasts and her long legs. He probably did a lot of physical work around his ranch, because he was certainly fit. But his strength wasn't affecting her nearly as much as the feel of his big, lean hands against her back, and the warmth of his arms around her. He smelled of delicious masculine cologne and tobacco, and her lower body felt like molten liquid all of a sudden.
His fingers moved into the hair at her nape and their tips gently massaged her scalp. She felt his warm breath at her temple while he held her.
Tears rolled down her cheeks. She hadn't really cried since the accident. She made up for it now, pressing close to him innocently for comfort.
But the movement had an unexpected consequence, and she felt it against her belly. She stiffened and moved her hips demurely back from his with what she hoped was subtlety. All the same, her face flamed with embarrassment. Four brief months of marriage hadn't loosened many of her inhibitions.
Harden felt equally uncomfortable. His blood had cooled somewhat with age, and he didn't have much to do with women. His reaction to Miranda shocked and embarrassed him. Her reaction only made it worse, because when he lifted his head, he could see the scarlet blush on her face.
"Thanks again for looking after me last night," she said to ease the painful silence. Her hands slid around to his broad chest and rested there while she looked up into pale, quiet eyes in a face like stone. "I won't see you again?" she asked.
He shook his head. "It wouldn't be wise."
"I suppose not." She reached up hesitantly and
touched his beautiful mouth, her fingertips lingering on the full, wide lower lip. "Thank you for my life," she said softly. "I'll take better care of it from now on."
"See that you do." He caught her fingers. "Don't do that," he said irritably, letting her hand fall to her side. He moved back, away from her. "I have to go."
"Yes, well, I won't keep you," she managed, embarrassed all over again. She hadn't meant to be so forward, but she'd never felt as secure with anyone before. It amazed her that such a sweeping emotion wouldn't be mutual. But he didn't look as if he even liked her, much less was affected by her. Except for that one telltale sign...
She went with him to the door and stood framed in the opening when he went out onto the porch.
He turned, his eyes narrow and angry as he gazed down at her. She looked vulnerable and sad and so alone. He let out a harsh breath.
"I'll be all right, you know," she said with false pride.
"Will you?" He moved closer, his stance arrogant, his eyes hot with feeling. His body throbbed as he looked at her. His gaze slid to her mouth and he couldn't help himself. He wanted it until it was an obsession. Reluctantly he caught the back of her neck in his lean hand and tilted her face as he bent toward her.
Her heart ran wild. She'd wanted his kiss so much, and it was happening. "Harden," she whispered helplessly.
"This is stupid," he breathed, but his mouth was already on hers even as he said it, the words going past her parted lips along with his smoky breath.
She didn't even hesitate. She - slid her arms up around his neck and locked her hands behind his head, lifting herself closer to his hard, rough mouth. She moaned faintly, because the passion he kindled in her was something she'd never felt. Her legs trembled against his and she felt the shudder that buffeted him as his body react
ed helplessly to her response.
He felt it and moved back. He dragged his mouth away from hers, breathing roughly as he looked down into her dazed eyes. "For God's sake!" he groaned.
He pushed her back into the apartment and followed her, elbowing the door shut before he reached for her again.
He wasn't even lucid. He knew he wasn't. But her mouth was the sweetest honey he'd ever tasted, and he didn't seem capable of giving it up.
She seemed equally helpless. Her body clung to his, her mouth protesting when he started to lift his. He sighed softly, giving in to her hunger, his mouth gentling as the kiss grew longer, more insistent. He toyed with her lips, teasing them into parting for him before his tongue eased gently past her teeth.
He felt her gasp even as he heard it. His hand smoothed her cheek, his thumb tenderly touching the corner of her mouth while his lips brushed it, calming
her. She trembled. He persisted until she finally gave in, all at once, her soft body almost collapsing against him. His tongue pushed completely into her mouth and she shivered with passion.
The slow, rhythmic thrust of his tongue was so suggestive, so blatantly sexual, that it completely disarmed her. She hadn't expected this from a man she'd only met the day before. She hadn't expected her headlong reaction to him, either. She couldn't seem to let go, to draw back, to protest this fierce intimacy.
She moaned. The sound penetrated his mind, aroused him even more. He felt her legs trembling against his blatant arousal, and he forced his mouth to lift, his hands to clasp her waist and hold her roughly away from him while he fought for control of his senses.
Her face was flushed, her eyes half closed, drowsy with pleasure. Her soft mouth was swollen, still lifted, willing, waiting.
He shook her gently. "Stop it," he said huskily. "Or I'll have you right here, standing up."
She stared up at him only half comprehending, her breath jerking out of her tight throat, her heart slamming at her ribs. "What...happened?" she whispered.
He let go of her and stepped back, his face rigid with unsatisfied desire. His chest heaved with the force of his breathing. "God knows," he said tersely.
"I've...I've never..." she began, flustered with embarrassment.
“Oh, hell, I've 'never,' either," he said irritably. "Not like that." He had to fight for breath. He stared at her, fascinated. "That can't happen again. Ever."
She swallowed. She'd known that, too, but there had been a tiny hope that this was the beginning of something. Impossible, of course. She was a widow of barely one month, with emotional scars from the loss of her husband and child, and he was a man who obviously didn't want to get involved. Wrong time, wrong place, she thought sadly, and wondered how she was going to cope with this new hurt. "Yes. I know," she said finally.
"Goodbye, Miranda."
Her eyes locked with his. "Goodbye, Harden."
He turned with cold reluctance and opened the door again. He could still taste her on his mouth, and his body was taut with arousal. He paused with the doorknob in his hand. He couldn't make himself turn it. His spine straightened.
"It's too soon for you."
"I...suppose so."
There had been a definite hesitation there. He turned and looked at her, his eyes intent, searching.
"You're a city girl."
That wasn't quite true, but he obviously wanted to believe it. "Yes," she said.
He took a slow, steadying breath, letting his eyes run down her body before he dragged them back up to her face.
"Wrong time, wrong place," he said huskily.
She nodded. "Yes. I was thinking that, too."
So she was already reading his mind. This was one dangerous woman. It was a good thing that the timing was wrong. She could have tied him up like a trussed turkey.
His gaze fell to her flat belly and it took all his willpower not to think what sprang to his mind. He'd never wanted a child. Before.
"I'll be late for the workshop. And you'll be late for work. Take care of yourself," he said.
She smiled gently. "You, too. Thank you, Harden."
His broad shoulders rose and fell. "I'd have done the same for anyone," he said, almost defensively.
"I know that, too. So long."
He opened the door this time and went through it, without haste but without lingering. When he was back in the car, he forced himself to ignore the way it wounded him to leave her there alone with her painful memories.
Chapter Three
Evan was waiting for Harden the minute he walked into the hotel. Harden glowered at him, but it didn't slow the other man down.
"It's not my fault," Evan said as they walked toward the conference rooms where the workshop was to be held. "A venomous woman hater who comes downstairs with a woman in an evening gown at eight-thirty in the morning is bound to attract unwanted attention.”
"No doubt." Harden kept walking.
Evan sighed heavily, "You never date anybody. You're forever on the job. My God, just seeing you with a woman is extraordinary. Tell me how you met her."
"She was leaning off a bridge. I stopped her."
"And...?"
Harden shrugged. "I let her use the spare room until she sobered up. This morning I took her home. End of story."
Evan threw up his hands. "Will you talk to me? Why was a gorgeous girl like that jumping off a bridge?"
"She lost her husband and a baby in a car accident," he replied.
Evan stopped, his eyes quiet and somber. "I'm sorry. She's still healing, is that it?"
"In a nutshell."
"So it was just compassion then." Evan shook his head and stuck his big hands into his pockets. "I might have known." He glanced at his half brother narrowly. "If you'd get married, I might have a chance of getting my own girl. They all walk over me trying to get to you. And you can't stand women." He brightened. "Maybe that's the secret. Maybe if I pretend to hate them, they'll climb all over me!"
"Why don't you try that?" Harden agreed.
"I have. It scared the last one off. No great loss. She had two cats and a hamster. I'm allergic to fur."
Harden laughed shortly. "So we've all noticed."
"I had a call from Mother earlier."
Harden's face froze. "Did you?"
"I wish you wouldn't do that," his brother said. "She's paid enough for what she did, Harden. You just don't understand how it is to be obsessively in love. Maybe that's why you've never forgiven her."
Evan had been away at college during the worst months of Harden's life. Neither Harden nor Theodora had ever told him much about the tragedy that had turned Harden cold. "Love is for idiots," Harden said, refusing to let himself remember. He paused to light a cigarette, his fingers steady and sure. "I want no part of it."
"Too bad," Evan replied. "It might limber you up a bit."
"Not much hope of that, at my age." He blew out a cloud of smoke, part of his mind still on Miranda and the way it had felt to kiss her. He turned toward the conference room. "I still don't understand why you came up here."
"To get away from Connal," he said shortly. "My God, he's driving me crazy."
Harden lifted an amused eyebrow. "Baby fever. Once Pepi gives birth, he'll be back to normal."
"He paces, he smokes, he worries about something going wrong. What if they don't recognize labor in time, what if the car won't start when it's time to go to the hospital!" He threw up his hands. "It's enough to put a man off fatherhood."
Fatherhood. Harden remembered looking hungrily at Miranda's waist and wondering how it would feel to father a child. Incredible thought, and he'd never had it before in his life, not even with the one woman he'd loved beyond bearing...or thought he'd loved. He scowled.
He had a lot of new thoughts and feelings with Miranda. This wouldn't do. They were strangers. He lived in Texas, she lived in Illinois. There was no future in it, even if she wasn't still in mourning. He had to bite back a groan.
"Something's eating you up," Evan sa
id perceptively, narrowing one dark eye. "You never talk about things that bother you."
"What's the use? They won't go away."
"No, but bringing them out in the light helps to get them into perspective." He pursed his lips. "It's that woman, isn't it? You saved her, now you feel responsible for her."
Harden whirled, his pale blue eyes glaring furiously at the other man.
Evan held up both hands, grinning. "Okay, I get the message. She was a dish, though. You might try your luck. Donald and Connal and I can talk you through a date...and the other things you don't know about."
Harden sighed. "Will you stop?"
"It's no crime to be innocent, even if you are a man," Evan continued. "We all know you thought about becoming a minister."
Harden just shook his head and kept walking. Surely to God, Evan was a case. That assumption irritated him, but he wouldn't lower himself enough to deny it.
"No comment?" Evan asked.
"No comment," Harden said pleasantly. "Let's go. The crowd's already gathering."
Despite Harden's preoccupation with Miranda, the workshop went well. He had a dry wit, which he used to his advantage to keep the audience's attention while he lectured on the combinations of maternal and carcass breeds that had been so successful back home. Profit was the bottom line in any cattle operation, and the strains he was using in a limited crossbreeding had proven themselves financially.
But his position on hormone implants wasn't popular, and had resulted in some hot exchanges with other cattlemen. Cattle at the Tremayne ranch weren't implanted, and Harden was fervently against the artificial means of beef growth.
"Damn it, it's like using steroids on a human," he argued with the older cattleman. "And we still don't know the long-range effects of consumption of implanted cattle on human beings!"
"You're talking a hell of a financial loss, all the same!" the other argued hotly. "Damn it, man, I'm operating in the red already! Those implants you're against are the only thing keeping me in business. More weight means more money. That's how it is!"
"And what about the countries that won't import American beef because of the implants?" Harden shot back. "What about moral responsibility for what may prove to be a dangerous and unwarranted risk to public health?"
Books By Diana Palmer Page 57
