Books By Diana Palmer

by Palmer, Diana

  She nodded. "A little thing like a broken back won't slow me down."

  He glowered at her. "He only weighs a hundred and ten pounds."

  "Yeah? Well, I only weigh a hundred!"

  His eyes went over her suddenly. "You've lost weight."

  "You said that before, but I haven't. I've always been thin."

  "Eat more."

  Her eyebrows arched. "I'll eat what I like, thank you."

  He made a rough sound in his throat. "And where are those new clothes we've been trying to get you to buy?"

  "I don't want any more clothes. I have plenty of clothes."

  "Plenty, the devil," he muttered angrily. "You'll go into town tomorrow and get some new jeans and shirts. Got that?"

  She lifted her chin stubbornly. "I will not! Listen here, I may work for you, but you don't tell me what I can wear!"

  He stared at her for a minute with narrowed eyes. "On second thought," he muttered, moving toward her, "why wait until tomor­row? And like hell I can't tell you what to wear!"

  "Callaghan!" she shrieked, protesting.

  By the time she got his name out of her shocked mouth, he had her over his shoulder in a fireman's lift. He walked right down the hall with her, passing Leo, who was just on his way back in to see what had happened.

  "Oh, my gosh, did Herman bite her?" he gasped. "Is she killed?"

  "No, of course he didn't bite her!" Cag huffed and kept walking.

  "Then where are you taking her?"

  "To the nearest department store."

  "To the...you are? Good man!"

  "Turncoat!" Tess called back to him.

  "Get her a dress!" Leo added.

  "I hate dresses!"

  "In that case, get her two dresses!"

  "You shut up, Leo!" she groaned.

  Rey was standing at the back door when Cag approached it with his burden.

  "Going out?" Rey asked pleasantly, and opened the door with a flourish. "Have fun, now."

  "Rescue me!" Tess called to him.

  "Say, wasn't there a song about that?" Rey asked Leo, who joined him on the porch.

  "There sure was. It went like this... 'Rescue me!'" he sang.

  The two of them were still singing it, arm in arm, off-key, at the top of their lungs, when Cag drove away in the ranch truck with a furious Tess at his side.

  "I don't want new clothes!" she raged.

  He glanced toward her red face and grinned. "Too late. We're already halfway to town."

  This strangely jubilant mood of his surprised her. Cag, of all the brothers, never seemed to play. Of course, neither did Simon, but he was rarely around. Leo and Rey, she'd been told, had once been just as taciturn as the older Harts. But since Dorie came back into Cor-rigan's life, they were always up to their necks in something. All Cag did was work. It was completely unlike him to take any personal interest in her welfare.

  "Leo could have taken me," she muttered, folding her arms over her chest.

  "He's too polite to carry you out the door," he replied. "And Rey's too much a gentleman. Most of the time, anyway."

  "These jeans just got broke in good."

  "They've got holes in them," he said pointedly.

  "It's fashionable."

  “Most fashionable jeans have holes in them when you buy them. Those—" he gestured toward the worn knees "—got like that from hard work. I've seen you on your knees scrubbing the kitchen floor. Which reminds me, we bought you one of those little floor cleaners that's specially made for linoleum. They're sending it out with the butane and lumber we ordered at the same time."

  "A floor cleaner?" she asked, stunned.

  "It will make things a little easier for you."

  She was delighted that he was concerned about her chores. She didn't say another word, but she couldn't quite stop smiling.

  Minutes later, he pulled up in front of the downtown department store and led her inside to the women's section. He stopped in front of Mrs. Bellamy, the saleslady who'd practically come with the store. He tilted his hat respectfully. "Mrs. Bellamy, can you fit her out with jeans and shirts and new boots and a dress or two?" he asked, nodding toward Tess, who was feeling more and more like a man­nequin. "We can't have our housekeeper looking like that!" He ges­tured toward her faded shirt and holey jeans.

  "My goodness, no, Mr. Hart," Mrs. Bellamy agreed at once. She frowned thoughtfully. "And we just received such a nice shipment of summer things, too! You come right along with me, Miss Tess, and we'll fix you up!" She took Tess's arm and waved her hand at Cag. "Shoo, now, Mr. Hart," she murmured absently, and Tess had to stifle a giggle at his expression. "She'll be ready to pick up in about an hour."

  I'm a parcel, Tess thought, and Cag's a fly. She put a hand over her wobbly mouth as she went meekly along with the older woman. Hysterical laughter would not save her now.

  Cag watched her go with an amused smile. So she didn't want new clothes, huh? They'd see about that! Mrs. Bellamy wasn't going to let a potential commission walk away from her!

  An hour later, Cag went back for Tess and found her trying on a royal blue and white full-skirted dress with spaghetti straps and a shirred bodice. Against her white skin the sapphire-and-diamond necklace was brilliant. With her freckled white shoulders bare and the creamy tops of her breasts showing, she took his breath away.

  "Isn't that dress just the thing, Tess?" Mrs. Bellamy was mur­muring. "You wait right here. I want to show you one more! Oh, hello, Mr. Hart!" she called as she passed him. She waved a hand toward Tess. "What do you think? Isn't it cute? Now where did I see that pretty black lacy thing..."

  Tess turned as Cag joined her. His face gave nothing away, but his black eyes glittered over the soft skin left bare by the dress. It certainly made her eyes bluer.

  "Is it...too revealing?" Tess asked nervously, because of the way he was watching her.

  He shook his head. "It suits you. It even matches the necklace." His voice sounded deep and husky. He moved closer and one big, lean hand lifted involuntarily to her throat where the small sapphire lay in its bed of diamonds and gold. His hand rested there for an instant before it moved restlessly over the thin strap of the dress. His fingertips absently traced over her soft skin as he studied her, noticing its silky warmth.

  Her breath caught in her throat. She felt her heartbeat shaking the dress even as she noticed his black eyes lowering to the flesh left bare by the shirred bodice.

  His fingers contracted on her shoulder and her intake of breath was suddenly audible.

  He met her eyes relentlessly, looking for hidden signs that she couldn't keep from him.

  "This is the sort of dress," he said gruffly, "that makes a man want to pull the bodice down."

  "Mr....Hart!" she exclaimed.

  He scowled faintly as he searched her shocked eyes. "Don't you know anything about dresses and the effect they have on men?'' he wanted to know.

  Her trembling hands went to tug the bodice up even more. "I do not! But I know that I won't have it if it makes you...makes a man think... such things!''

  His hand jerked suddenly, as if her skin had burned it. "I was teasing!" he lied sharply, moving away. "It's fine. You look fine. And yes," he added firmly, "you'll have it, all right!"

  She didn't know what to think. He was acting very strangely, and now he wouldn't look at her at all. Teasing? Then why was he so stiff and uncomfortable looking if he was teasing? And why keep his back to her and Mrs. Bellamy, who'd just rejoined them.

  "Here, Tess, try on this one. I'll box that one while you're dress­ing." She rushed the girl off before she could say anything to Cag.

  That was just as well. He was fighting a raging arousal that had shocked him senseless. Tess was beginning to have a very noticeable effect on him, and he was quite sorry that he'd insisted on bringing her here. If she wore that dress around him, it was going to cause some major problems.

  He stood breathing deliberately until his rebellious body was back under control. He notic
ed that Tess didn't show him the black dress she'd tried on. But she shook her head when Mrs. Bellamy asked her about it. She was trying to refuse the blue one, too. He wasn't having that. She looked so beautiful in it. That was one she had to have.

  "You're not turning that blue one back in," he said firmly. "You'll need something to wear if you're asked out anywhere." He hated thinking about her in that dress with another man. But she didn't date. It shouldn't worry him. "Did you get some jeans and blouses, and how about those boots?"

  After Mrs. Bellamy rattled off an inventory, he produced a credit card and watched her ring up a total. He wouldn't let Tess see it. She looked worried enough already.

  He took the two large bags and the dress bag from Mrs. Bellamy with thanks and hustled Tess back out to the double-cabbed truck. He put the purchases on the back seat and loaded Tess into the pas­senger seat.

  She sat without fastening her belt until he got in beside her.

  "You spent too much," she said nervously, her big blue eyes echoing her mood. "I won't be able to pay you back for months, even if you take so much a week out of my salary."

  "Think of the clothes as a uniform," he said gently. "You can't walk around in what you've been wearing. What will people think of us?"

  "Nobody ever comes to see you."

  "Visiting cattlemen do. Politicians do. We even have the occa­sional cookout. People notice these things. And you'll look neater in new stuff."

  She shrugged and sighed with defeat. "Okay, then. Thanks."

  He didn't crank the truck. He threw a long arm over the back of the seat and looked at her openly. Her barely contained excitement over the clothes began to make sense to him. "You've never had | new things," he said suddenly.

  She flushed. "On the rodeo circuit, when you lose, you don't make much. Dad and I bought most of our stuff from yard sales, or were given hand-me-downs by other rodeo people." She glanced at him nervously. "I used to compete in barrel racing, and I won third place a few times, but I didn't have a good enough horse to go higher. We had to sell him just before Dad gave up and came here to work."

  "Why, Tess," he said softly. "I never knew you could ride at all!"

  "I haven't had much chance to."

  “I’ll take you out with me one morning. Can you ride a quarter horse?"

  She smiled. "If he's well trained, sure I can!"

  He chuckled. "We'll see, after the biggest part of the roundup's over. We'd never get much done with all the cowboys showing off for you."

  She flushed. "Nobody looks at me. I'm too skinny."

  "But you're not," he protested. His eyes narrowed. "You're slen­der, but nobody could mistake you for a boy."

  "Thanks."

  He reached out unexpectedly and tugged a short reddish-gold curl, bringing her face around so that he could search it. He wasn't smiling.

  His eyes narrowed as his gaze slid lazily over her eyes, cheekbones and down to her mouth.

  "The blue dress suited you," he said. "How did the black one look?"

  She shifted restlessly. "It was too low."

  "Low what?"

  She swallowed. “It was cut almost to the waist. I could never wear something like that in public!"

  His gaze fell lower, to the quick rise and fall of her small breasts. "A lot of women couldn't get away with it," he murmured. "But you could. You're small enough that you wouldn't need to wear a bra with it."

  "Mr. Hart!" she exclaimed, jerking back.

  His eyebrows arched. "I've been Callaghan for months and today I've already been Mr. Hart twice. What did I say?"

  Her face was a flaming red. "You...you know what you said!"

  He did, all at once, and he chuckled helplessly. He shook his head as he reached for the ignition and switched it on. "And I thought Mrs. Lewis was old-fashioned. You make her look like a hippie!"

  She wrapped her arms over her chest, still shaken by the remark. "You mustn't go around saying things like that. It's indecent!"

  He had to force himself not to laugh again. She was serious. He shouldn't tease her, but it was irresistible. She made him feel warm inside, when he'd been empty for years. He should have realized that he was walking slowly toward an abyss, but he didn't notice. He enjoyed having her around, spoiling her a little. He glanced sideways at her. "Put your belt on, honey."

  Honey! She fumbled it into the lock at her side, glancing at him uncertainly. He never used endearments and she didn't like them. But that deep, rough voice made her toes curl. She could almost imagine him whispering that word under his breath as he kissed a woman.

  She went scarlet. Why had she thought of that? And if the thought wasn't bad enough, her eyes went suddenly to his hard mouth and lingered there in spite of her resolve. She wondered if that mouth could wreak the devastation she thought it could. She'd only been kissed a time or two, and never by anybody who knew how. Calla­ghan would know how, she was sure of it.

  He caught her looking at him and one eyebrow went up. "And what sort of scandalous thoughts are going through that prudish mind now?" he taunted.

  She caught her breath. "I don't know what you mean!"

  "No?"

  "No! And I do not have a prudish mind!"

  "You could have fooled me," he said under his breath, and ac­tually grinned.

  “Hold your breath until you get any more apple butter with your biscuits," she muttered back. "And wait until you get another biscuit, too!"

  "You can't starve me," he said smugly. "Rey and Leo will protect me."

  "Oh, right, like they protected me! How could you do that? Car­rying me out like a package, and them standing there singing like fools. I don't know why I ever agreed to work for such a loopy family!"

  "Loopy? Us?"

  "You! You're all crazy."

  "What does that make you?" he murmured dryly. "You work for us."

  "I need my head read!"

  "I'll get somebody on it first thing."

  She glanced at him sourly. "I thought you wanted me to quit."

  "I already told you, not during roundup!" he reminded her. "Maybe when summer comes, if you're determined."

  "I'm not determined. You're determined. You don't like me."

  He pursed his lips, staring straight ahead. "I don't, do I?" he said absently. "But you're a fine housekeeper and a terrific cook. If I fired you, the others would stick me in a horse trough and hold me under."

  "You destroyed the cake I baked for you," she recalled uneasily. "And you let your snake fall on me."

  "That was Herman's own idea," he assured her. His face hard­ened. "The cake—you know why."

  "I know now." She relented. "I'm sorry. I don't know what nice mothers are like, either, because I never had one. But if I had little kids, I'd make their birthdays so special," she said almost to herself,

  smiling. "I'd bake cakes and give them parties, and make ice cream. And they'd have lots and lots of presents." Her hand went invol­untarily to the necklace he'd given her.

  He saw that, and something warm kindled in his chest. "You like kids?" he asked without wanting to.

  "Very much. Do you?"

  "I haven't had much to do with them. I like Mack's toddler, though," he added. The foreman had a little boy two years old who always ran to Cag to be picked up. He always took something over for the child when he went to see Mack and his wife. Tess knew, although he never mentioned it.

  She looked out the window. "I don't suppose I'll ever have kids of my own."

  He scowled. "Why do you say that?"

  She wrapped her arms around her chest. "I don't like...the sort of thing that you have to do to get them."

  He stepped on the brakes so hard that the seat belt jerked tight and stared at her intently.

  She flushed. "Well, some women are cold!"

  "How do you know that you are?" he snapped, hating himself for even asking.

  She averted her gaze out the window. "I can't stand to have a man touch me."

  "Really?" he drawl
ed. "Then why did you gasp and stand there with your heartbeat shaking you when I slid my hand over your shoulder in the dress shop?"

  Her body jerked. "I never!"

  "You most certainly did," he retorted, and felt a wave of delight wash over him at the memory of her soft skin under his hands. It had flattered him, touched him, that she was vulnerable with him.

  "It was...I mean, I was surprised. That's all!" she added bellig­erently.

  His fingers tapped on the steering wheel as he contemplated her with narrowed eyes. "Something happened to you. What?"

  She stared at him, stunned.

  "Come on. You know I don't gossip."

  She did. She moved restlessly against the seat. "One of my mother's lovers made a heavy pass at me," she muttered. "I was sixteen and grass green, and he scared me to death."

  "And now you're twenty-two," he added. He stared at her even harder. 'There aren't any twenty-two-year-old virgins left in Amer­ica."

  "Says who?" she shot at him, and then flushed as she felt herself fall right into the trap.

  His lips pursed, and he smiled so faintly that she almost missed it.

  "That being the case," he said in a soft, mocking tone, "how do you know that you're frigid?"

  She was going to choke to death trying to answer that. She drew in an exasperated breath. "Can't we go home?"

  She made the word sound soft, mysterious, enticing. He'd lived in houses all his life. She made him want a home. But it wasn't a thing he was going to admit just yet, even to himself.

  "Sure," he said after a minute. "We can go home." He took his foot off the brake, put the truck in gear and sent it flying down the road.

  It never occurred to him that taking her shopping had been the last thing on his mind this morning, or that his pleasure in her company was unusual. He was reclusive these days, stoic and unapproachable; except when Tess came close. She was vulnerable in so many ways, like the kitten they'd both adopted. Surely it was just her youth that appealed to him. It was like giving treats to a deprived child and enjoying its reactions.

  Except that she trembled under his hands and he'd been years on his own. He liked touching her and she liked letting him. It was something he was going to have to watch. The whole situation was explosive. But he was sure he could handle it. She was a sweet kid. It wouldn't hurt if he spoiled her just a little. Of course it wouldn't.