Books By Diana Palmer

by Palmer, Diana

  "It?"

  "The bull you rustled. His stall was empty, all right."

  Her eyes bulged. "Didn't you look for him on the ranch?"

  "Yes, ma'am," he assured her with a wide smile. "I looked. But the stall was empty, and they said he'd be in it if he hadn't been rustled. That was a million-dollar bull, ma'am." He shook his head. "They could shoot you for that. This is Texas, you know. Cattle rustling is a very serious charge."

  "How could I rustle a bull? Do you have any idea how much a bull weighs?" She was sounding hys­terical. She calmed down. "All right. If I took that bull, where was he?"

  "Probably hidden in your room, ma'am. I plan to phone back when we get to the Hart place and have the manager search it," he assured her. His rakish grin widened. "Of course, if he doesn't find a bull in your room, that will probably mean that I can drop the charges."

  "Drop them, the devil!" she flared, blowing a wisp of platinum hair out of her eyes. "I'll sue the whole damned state for false arrest!"

  He chuckled at her fury. "Sorry. You can't. I had probable cause."

  "What probable cause?"

  He glanced at her in the rearview mirror with a rakish grin. "You had a hamburger for lunch, didn't you, ma'am?"

  She was openly gasping by now. The man was a lunatic. He must be a friend of the brothers, that was the only possible explanation. She gave up arguing, because she couldn't win. But she was going to do some serious damage to four ugly men when she got back to Jacobsville.

  The ranger pulled up in front of the Harts' ranch house and all four of them came tumbling out of the living room and down to the driveway. Every one of them was smiling except Corrigan.

  "Thanks, Colton," Leo said, shaking the ranger's hand. "I don't know what we'd have done without you."

  The man called Colton got out and opened the back seat to extricate a fuming, muttering Dorie. She glared at the brothers with eyes that promised retribution as her handcuffs were removed and her suitcase and purse handed to her.

  "We found the bull," Cag told the ranger. "He'd strayed just out behind the barn. Sorry to have put you to this trouble. We'll make our own apologies to Miss Wayne, here."

  Colton stared at the fuming ex-prisoner with pursed lips. "Good luck," he told them.

  Dorie didn't know where to start. She looked up at Colton and wondered how many years she could get for kicking a Texas Ranger's shin.

  Reading that intent in her eyes, he chuckled and climbed back into his car. "Tell Simon I said hello," he called to them. "We miss seeing him around the state capital now that he's given up public office."

  "I'll tell him," Cag promised.

  That barely registered as he drove away with a wave of his hand, leaving Dorie alone with the men.

  "Nice to see you again, Miss Wayne," Cag said, tipping his hat. "Excuse me. Cows to feed."

  "Fences to mend," Leo added, grinning as he fol­lowed Cag's example.

  "Right. Me, too." Rey tipped his own hat and lit out after his brothers.

  Which left Corrigan to face the music, and it was all furious discord and bass.

  She folded her arms over her breasts and glared at him.

  "It was their idea," he said pointedly.

  "Arrested for rustling. Me! He...that man...that Texas Ranger tried to infer that I had a bull hidden in my motel room, for God's sake! He handcuffed me!" She held up her wrists to show them to him.

  "He probably felt safer that way," he remarked, observing her high color and furious face.

  "I want to go home! Right now!"

  He could see that it would be useless to try to talk to her. He only made one small effort. "Tira's sorry," he said quietly. "She wanted to tell you that she's going to the Coltrains' party with Charles Percy. I was going to drive, that's all. I'd planned to take you with me."

  "I heard all about your 'plan.'"

  The pain in her eyes was hard to bear. He averted his gaze. "You'd said repeatedly that you wanted no part of me," he said curtly. "I wasn't about to let people think I was dying of love for you."

  "Wouldn't that be one for the record books?" she said furiously.

  His gaze met hers evenly. "I'll get Joey to drive you home."

  He turned and walked away, favoring his leg a lit­tle. She watched him with tears in her eyes. It was just too much for one weekend.

  Joey drove her home and she stayed away from the ranch. Corrigan was back to doing the books himself, because she wouldn't. Her pride was raw, and so was his. It looked like a complete stalemate.

  "We've got to do something," Cag said on Christ­mas Eve, as Corrigan sat in the study all by himself in the dark. "It's killing him. He won't even talk about going to the Coltrains' party."

  "I'm not missing it," Leo said. "They've got five sets of Lionel electric trains up and running on one of the most impressive layouts in Texas."

  "Your brother is more important than trains," Rey said grimly. "What are we going to do?"

  Cag's dark eyes began to twinkle. "I think we should bring him a Christmas present."

  "What sort of present?" Rey asked.

  "A biscuit maker," Cag said.

  Leo chuckled. "I'll get a bow."

  "I'll get out the truck," Rey said, shooting out the front door.

  "Shhh!" Cag called to them. "It wouldn't do to let him know what we're up to. We've already made one monumental mistake."

  They nodded and moved more stealthily.

  Corrigan was nursing a glass of whiskey. He heard the truck leave and come back about an hour later, but he wasn't really interested in what his brothers were doing. They'd probably gone to the Christmas party over at Coltrain's ranch.

  He was still sitting in the dark when he heard cu­rious muffled sounds and a door closing.

  He got up and went out into the hall. His brothers looked flushed and flustered and a little mussed. They looked at him, wide-eyed. Leo was breathing hard, leaning against the living-room door.

  "What are you three up to now?" he demanded.

  "We put your Christmas present in there," Leo said, indicating the living room. "We're going to let you open it early."

  "It's something nice," Cag told him.

  "And very useful," Leo agreed.

  Rey heard muffled noises getting louder. "Better let him get in there. I don't want to have to run it down again."

  "Run it down?" Corrigan cocked his head. "What the hell have you got in there? Not another rattler...!"

  "Oh, it's not that dangerous," Cag assured him.

  He frowned. "Well, not quite that dangerous." He moved forward, extricated Leo from the door and opened it, pushing Corrigan inside. "Merry Christ­mas," he added, and locked the door.

  Corrigan noticed two things at once—that the door was locked, and that a gunnysack tied with a ribbon was sitting in a chair struggling like crazy.

  Outside the door, there were muffled voices.

  "Oh, God," he said apprehensively.

  He untied the red ribbon that had the top securely tied, and out popped a raging mad Dorothy Wayne.

  "I'll kill them!" she yelled.

  Big booted feet ran for safety out in the hall.

  Corrigan started laughing and couldn't stop. Honest to God, his well-meaning brothers were going to be the death of him.

  "I hate them, I hate this ranch, I hate Jacobsville, I hate you...mmmfff!"

  He stopped the furious tirade with his mouth. Amazing how quickly she calmed down when his arms went around her and he eased her gently out of the chair and down onto the long leather couch.

  She couldn't get enough breath to continue. His mouth was open and hungry on her lips and his body was as hard as hers was soft as it moved restlessly against her.

  She felt his hands on her hips and, an instant later, he was lying between her thighs, moving in a tender, achingly soft rhythm that made her moan.

  "I love you," he whispered before she could get a word out.

  And then she didn't want to get a word out.


  His hands were inside her blouse and he was fight­ing his way under her skirt when they dimly heard a key turn in the lock.

  The door opened and three pair of shocked, de­lighted eyes peered in.

  "You monsters!" she said with the last breath she had. She was in such a state of disarray that she couldn't manage anything else. Their position was so blatant that there was little use in pretending that they were just talking.

  "That's no way to talk to your brothers-in-law," Leo stated. "The wedding's next Saturday, by the way." He smiled apologetically. "We couldn't get the San Antonio symphony orchestra to come, be­cause they have engagements, but we did get the gov­ernor to give you away. He'll be along just before the ceremony." He waved a hand at them and grinned. "Carry on, don't mind us."

  Corrigan fumbled for a cushion and flung it with all his might at the door. It closed. Outside, deep chuckles could be heard.

  Dorie looked up into Corrigan's steely gray eyes with wonder. "Did he say the governor's going to give me away? Our governor? The governor of Texas?"

  "The very one."

  "But, how?"

  "The governor's a friend of ours. Simon worked with him until the wreck, when he retired from public office. Don't you ever read a newspaper?"

  "I guess not."

  "Never mind. Just forget about all the details." He bent to her mouth. "Now, where were we...?"

  The wedding was the social event of the year. The governor did give her away; along with all four broth­ers, including the tall, darkly distinguished Simon, who wore an artificial arm just for the occasion. Dorie was exquisite in a Paris gown designed especially for her by a well-known couturier. Newspapers sent rep­resentatives. The whole world seemed to form outside the little Presbyterian church in Victoria.

  "I can't believe this," she whispered to Corrigan as they were leaving on their Jamaica honeymoon. "Corrigan, that's the vice president over there, stand­ing beside the governor and Simon!"

  "Well, they sort of want Simon for a cabinet po­sition. He doesn't want to leave Texas. They're coax­ing him,"

  She just shook her head. The Hart family was just too much altogether!

  That night, lying in her new husband's arms with the sound of the ocean right outside the window, she gazed up at him with wonder as he made the softest, sweetest love to her in the dimly lit room.

  His body rose and fell like the tide, and he smiled at her, watching her excited eyes with sparks in his own as her body hesitated only briefly and then ac­cepted him completely on a gasp of shocked pleasure.

  "And you were afraid that it was going to hurt," he chided as he moved tenderly against her.

  "Yes." She was gasping for air, clinging, lifting to him in shivering arcs of involuntary rigor. "It's...killing me...!"

  "Already?" he chided, bending to brush his lips over her swollen mouth. "Darlin', we've barely started!"

  "Barely...? Oh!"

  He was laughing. She could hear him as she washed up and down on waves of ecstasy that brought unbelievable noises out of her. She died half a dozen times, almost lost consciousness, and still he laughed, deep in his throat, as he went from one side of the bed to the other with her in a tangle of glorious aban­don that never seemed to end. Eventually they ended up on the carpet with the sheet trailing behind them as she cried out, sobbing, one last time and heard him groan as he finally shuddered to completion.

  They were both covered with sweat. Her hair was wet. She was trembling and couldn't stop. Beside her, he lay on his back with one leg bent at the knee. Incredibly he was still as aroused as he'd been when they started. She sat up gingerly and stared at him, awed.

  He chuckled up at her. "Come down here," he dared her.

  "I can't!" She was gasping. "And you can't...you couldn't...!"

  "If you weren't the walking wounded, I sure as hell could," he said. "I've saved it all up for eight years, and I'm still starving for you."

  She just looked at him, fascinated. "I read a book."

  "I'm not in it," he assured her. He tugged her down on top of him and brushed her breasts with his lips. "I guess you're sore."

  She blushed. "You guess?"

  He chuckled. "All right. Come here, my new best friend, and we'll go to sleep, since we can't do any­thing else,"

  "We're on the floor," she noted.

  "At least we won't fall off next time."

  She laughed because he was outrageous. She'd never thought that intimacy would be fun as well as pleasurable. She traced his nose and bent to kiss his lips. "Where are we going to live?"

  "At the ranch."

  "Only if your brothers live in the barn," she said. "I'm not having them outside the door every night listening to us."

  "They won't have to stand outside the door. Judg­ing from what I just heard, they could hear you with the windows closed if they stood on the town squa... Ouch!"

  "Let that be a lesson to you," she told him dryly, watching him rub the nip she'd given his thigh. "Na­ked men are vulnerable."

  "And you aren't?"

  "Now, Corrigan...!"

  She screeched and he laughed and they fell down again in a tangle, close together, and the laughter gave way to soft conversation. Eventually they even slept. When they got back to the ranch, the three brothers were gone and there was a hastily scrawled note on the door.

  "We're sleeping in the bunkhouse until we can build you a house of your own. Congratulations. Champagne is in the fridge." It was signed with love, all three brothers—and the name of the fourth was penciled in.

  "On second thought,"she said, with her arm around her husband, "maybe those boys aren't so bad after all!"

  He tried to stop her from opening the door, but it was too late. The bucket of water left her wavy hair straight and her navy blue coat dripping. She looked at Corrigan with eyes the size of plates, her arms out­stretched, her mouth open.

  Corrigan looked around her. On the floor of the hall were two towels and two new bathrobes, and an as­sortment of unmentionable items.

  He knew that if he laughed, he'd be sleeping in the barn for the next month. But he couldn't help it. And after a glance at the floor—neither could she.

  Beloved (12-1998)

  To Debbie and the staff at Books Galore,

  in Watkinsville, GA and to all my wonderful readers there and in Athens-

  Prologue

  Simon Hart sat alone in the second row of the seats reserved for family. He wasn't really kin to John Beck, but the two had been best friends since college. John had been his only real friend. Now he was dead, and there she sat like a dark angel, her titian hair veiled in black, pretending to mourn the husband she'd cast off like a worn coat after only a month of marriage.

  He crossed his long legs, shifting uncomfortably against the pew. He had an ache where his left arm ended just at the elbow. The sleeve was pinned, because he hated the prosthesis that disguised his handicap. He was handsome enough even with only one arm—he had thick, wavy black hair on a leonine head, with dark eyebrows and pale gray eyes. He was tall and well built, a dynamo of a man; former state attorney general of Texas and a nationally known trial lawyer, in addition to being one of the owners of the Hart ranch properties, which were worth millions. He and his brothers were as famous in cattle circles as Simon was in legal circles. He was filthy rich and looked it. But the money didn't make up for the loneliness. His wife had died in the accident that took his arm. It had happened just after Tira's marriage to John Beck.

  Tira had nursed him in the hospital, and gossip had run rampant.

  Simon was alluded to as the cause.of the divorce. Stupid idea, he thought angrily, because he wouldn't have had Tira on a bun with catsup. Only a week after the divorce, she was seen everywhere with playboy Charles Percy, who was still her closest companion. He was probably her lover, as well, Simon thought with suppressed fury. He liked Percy no better than he liked Tira. Strange that Percy hadn't come to the funeral, but perhaps he did have some sense of dece
ncy, however small.

  Simon wondered if Tira realized how he really felt about her. He had to be pleasant to her; anything else would have invited comment. But secretly, he despised her for what she'd done to John. Tiira was cold inside—selfish and cold and unfeeling. Otherwise, how could she have turned John out after a month of marriage, and then let him go to work on a dangerous oil rig in the North Atlantic in an attempt to forget her? John had died there this week, in a tragic accident, having drowned in the freezing, churning waters before he could be rescued. Simon couldn't help thinking that John wanted to die. The letters he'd had from his friend were full of his misery, his loneliness, his isolation from love and happiness.

  He glared in her direction, wondering how John's father could bear to sit beside her like that, holding her slender hand as if he felt as sorry for her as he felt for himself at the loss of his son, his only child. Putting on a show for the public, he concluded irritably, He was pretending, to keep people from gossiping.

  Simon stared at the closed casket and winced. It was like the end of am era for him. First he'd lost Melia, his wife, and his arm; now he'd lost John, too. He had wealth and success, but no one to share it with. He wondered if Tira felt any guilt for what she'd done to John. He couldn't imagine that she did. She was always flamboyant, vivacious, outgoing and mercurial. Simon had watched her without her knowing it, hating himself for what he felt when he looked at her. She was tall, beautiful, with long, glorious red-gold hair that went to her waist, pale green eyes and a figure right out of a fashion magazine. She could have been a model, but she was surprisingly shy for a pretty woman.

  Simon had already been married when they met, and it had been at his prompting that John had taken Tira out for the first time. He'd thought they were compatible, both rich and pleasant people. It had seemed a marriage made in heaven; until the quick divorce. Simon would never have admitted that he threw Tira together with John to get her out of his own circle and out of the reach of temptation. He told himself that she was everything he despised in a woman, the sort of person he could never care for. It worked, sometimes. Except for the ache he felt every time he saw her; an ache that wasn't completely physical....