Books By Diana Palmer

by Palmer, Diana

  He bent again. His top lip nudged under hers, and then down to toy with her lower lip. He felt her gasp. Apparently the kisses she'd had from other men hadn't been arousing. He felt her hands tighten on his shirt with a sense of pure arrogant pleasure.

  He brought both lips down slowly over her bottom one, letting his tongue slide softly against the silky, moist inner tissue. She gasped and her mouth opened.

  "Yes," he whispered as his own mouth opened to meet it, press into it, parting her lips wide so that he could cover them completely.

  She made a tiny sound and her body stiffened, but he ignored the faint involuntary protest. His arms reached down, enclosing, lifting, so that she was completely off the ground in a hungry, warm embrace that seemed to swallow her whole.

  The kiss was hard, slow, insistent and delicious. She clasped her hands at the back of Cal's neck and clung to it, her mouth accepting his, loving the hard crush of it. When she felt his tongue slipping past her lips, she didn't protest. She opened her mouth for him, met the slow, velvety thrust with a husky little moan, and closed her eyes even tighter as the intimacy of the kiss made her whole body clench with pleasure.

  It seemed a long time before he lifted his head and watched her dazed, misty eyes open.

  He searched them in the heady silence of the glade. Nearby a horse whinnied, but he didn't hear it. His heart was beating in time with Tess's, in a feverish rush. He was feeling sensations he'd almost forgotten how to feel. His body was swelling, aching, against hers.

  He watched her face color and knew that she felt it and understood it.

  He eased her back down onto her feet and let her move away a few inches. His eyes never left hers and he didn't let her go com- pletely.

  She looked as stunned as he felt. He searched her eyes as his big hand lifted and his fingers traced a blatant path down her breast to the hard tip. She gasped, but she didn't try to stop him. She couldn't, and he knew it.

  His hand returned to her waist.

  She leaned her forehead against him while she got her breath back. She wondered if she should be embarrassed. She felt hot all over and oddly swollen. Her mouth was sore, but she wished his hard lips were still covering it. The sensations curling through her body were new and exciting and a little frightening.

  "Was it just... a lesson?" she whispered, because she wanted to know.

  His hands smoothed gently over her curly head. He stared past it, toward the stream where the horses were still drinking. "No."

  "Then, why?"

  His fingers slid into her curls. He sighed heavily. "I don't know."

  Her eyes closed. She stood against him with the wind blowing all around them and thought that she'd never been so happy, or felt so

  complete.

  He was feeling something comparable, but it disturbed him and made him angry. He hadn't wanted it to come to this. He'd always known, at some level, that it would be devastating to kiss her. This little redhead with her pert manner and fiery temper. She could bring him to his knees. Did she know that?

  He lifted his head and looked down at her. She wasn't smiling, flirting, teasing, or pert. She looked as shattered as he felt.

  He put her away from him, still holding her a little too tightly by the arms.

  "Don't read anything into it," he said shortly.

  Her breath was jerky. "I won't."

  "It was just proximity," he explained. "And abstinence."

  "Sure."

  She wasn't humoring him. She really believed him. He was amazed that she didn't know how completely he'd lost control, how violently his body reacted to her. He frowned.

  She shifted uneasily and moved back. His hands fell away. Her eyes met his and her thin brows wrinkled. "You won't...you won't tell the brothers?" she asked. She moved a shoulder. "I wouldn't want them to think I was, well, trying to... I mean, that I was flirting or chasing you or... anything.''

  "I don't think you're even real," he murmured half-absently as he studied her. "I don't gossip. I told you that. As if I'd start telling tales about you, to my own damned brothers, just because a kiss got a little out of hand!"

  She went scarlet. She whirled away from him and stumbled down the bank to catch the mare's reins. She mounted after the second try, irritated that he was already comfortably in the saddle by then, watch­ing her.

  "As for the rest of it," he continued, as if there hadn't been any pause between words, "you weren't chasing me. I invited you out here."

  She nodded, but she couldn't meet his eyes. What she was feeling was far too explosive, and she was afraid it might show in her eyes.

  Her embarrassment was almost tangible. He sighed and rode closer, putting out a hand to tilt up her chin.

  "Don't make such heavy weather of a kiss, Tess," he said quietly. "It's no big deal. Okay?"

  "Okay." She almost choked on the word. The most earthshaking event of her life, and it was no big deal. Probably to him it hadn't been. The way he kissed, he'd probably worked for years perfecting his technique. But she'd never been kissed like that, and she was shattered. Still, he wasn't going to know it. He didn't even like her, he'd said as much. It had been an impulse, and obviously it was one he already regretted.

  "Where do we go next?" she asked with a forced smile.

  He scowled. She was upset. He should never have touched her, but it had been irresistible. It had been pure delight to kiss her. Now he had to forget that he ever had.

  "The next pasture," he said curtly. "We'll roust out whatever cattle wildlife we find and then call it a day. You're drooping."

  "I guess I am, a little," she confessed. "It's hot."

  In more ways than one, he thought, but he didn't dare say it aloud.

  "Let's go, then."

  He rode off, leaving her to follow. Neither of them mentioned what had happened. By the end of the day, they only spoke when they had to. And by the next morning, Cag was glaring at her as if she was the reason for global warming. Everything was back to normal.

  Chapter 5

  Spring turned to summer. Cag didn't invite Tess to go riding again, but he did have Leo speak to her about starting horticulture classes in the fall.

  "I'd really like to," she told Leo. "But will I still be here then?" she added on a nervous laugh. "Cag's worse than ever lately. Any day now, he's going to fire me."

  "That isn't likely," Leo assured her, secretly positive that Cag would never let her leave despite his antagonism, because the older man cared too much about her. Oddly Tess was the only person who didn't seem to realize that.

  "If I'm still here," she said. "I'd love to go to school."

  "We'll take care of it. Cheer up, will you?" he added gently. "You look depressed lately."

  "Oh, I'm not," she assured him, lying through her teeth. "I feel just fine, really!"

  She didn't tell him that she wasn't sleeping well, because she laid awake nights remembering the way Cag had kissed her. But if she'd hoped for a repeat of that afternoon, it had never come. Cag was all but hostile to her since, complaining about everything from the way she dusted to the way she fastened his socks together in the drawers. Nothing she did pleased him.

  Mrs. Lewis remarked dryly that he acted lovesick, and Tess began to agonize about some shadowy woman that he might be seeing on those long evenings when he left the ranch and didn't come home until midnight. He never talked about a woman, but then, he didn't gossip. And even his brothers knew very little about his private life. It worried Tess so badly that even her appetite suffered. How would she survive if Cag married? She didn't like thinking about him with another woman. In fact, she hated it. When she realized why, she felt even worse. How in the world was it that she'd managed to fall in love with a man who couldn't stand to be around her, a man who thought of her only as a cook and housekeeper?

  What was she going to do about it? She was terrified that it might show, although she saw no signs of it in her mirror. Cag paid her no more attention than he paid the housecleaning. He seeme
d to find her presence irritating, though, most especially at mealtimes. She began to find reasons to eat early or late, so that she didn't have to sit at the table with him glaring at her.

  Oddly that made things worse. He started picking at her, and not in any teasing way. It got so bad that Leo and Rey took him aside and called him on it. He thought Tess had put them up to it, and blamed her. She withdrew into herself and sat alone in her room at night crocheting an afghan while she watched old black-and-white movies on the little television set her father had given her for Christ­mas four years ago. She spent less time with the brothers than ever, out of self-defense. But Cag's attitude hurt. She wondered if he was trying to make her quit, even though it was his idea to get her into school in the fall quarter. Perhaps, she thought miserably, he meant her to live in at the school dormitory and quit her job. The thought brought tears to her eyes and made her misery complete.

  It was a beautiful summer day when haying got underway on the ranch to provide winter forage for the cattle. It hadn't rained for over a week and a half, and while the danger of drought was ever present, this was a necessary dry spell. The hay would rot in the field if it rained. Besides, it was a comfortable heat, unseasonably cool. Even so, it was hot enough for shorts.

  Tess had on a pair of denim cutoffs that she'd made from a torn pair of jeans, and she was wearing socks and sneakers and a gray tank top. She looked young and fresh and full of energy, bouncing across the hay field with the small red cooler in her hands. She hadn't wanted to go near Cag, but Leo had persuaded her that his older brother would be dying of thirst out there in the blazing sun with nothing to drink. He sent a reluctant Tess out to him with a cooler full of supplies.

  Cag, driving the tractor that was scooping the hay into huge round bales, stopped and let the engine idle when he saw her coming toward him. He was alone in the field, having sent two other men into ad­jacent fields to bale hay in the same fashion. It was blazing hot in the sun, despite his wide-brimmed straw hat. He was bare-chested and still pouring sweat. He'd forgotten to bring anything along to drink, and he hadn't really expected anyone to think about sending him something. He smiled ruefully to himself, certain that Tess wouldn't have thought of it on her own. She was still too nervous of him to come this close willingly, especially considering the way he'd treated her since that unfortunate kiss in the pasture.

  It wasn't that he disliked her. It was that he liked her far too much. He ached every time he looked at her, especially since he'd kissed her. He found himself thinking about it all the time. She was years younger, another generation. Some nice boy would come along and she'd go head over heels. He had to remember that and not let a few minutes of remembered pleasure blind him to reality. Tess was too young for him. Period.

  He cut off the tractor and jumped down as she approached him. Her eyes seemed to flicker as they brushed his sweaty chest, thick with black hair that ran down into his close-fitting jeans.

  He wiped his hand on a work cloth. "Brought survival gear, did you?" he asked.

  "Just a couple of cans of beer and two sandwiches," she said tautly. "Leo asked me to."

  "Naturally," he drawled sarcastically. "I'd hardly expect you to volunteer."

  She bit her lower lip to keep from arguing with him. She was keenly aware of his dislike. She offered the cooler.

  He took it from her, noticing how she avoided touching him as it changed hands.

  "Go back along the path," he said, irritated by his own concern for her. "I've seen two big rattlesnakes since I started. They won't like the sun, so they'll be in a cool place. And that—" he indicated her shorts and sneakers ''—is stupid gear to wear in a pasture. You should have on thick jeans and boots. Good God, you weren't even looking where your feet were!"

  "I was watching the ravens," she said defensively, indicating two of them lighting and flying away in the field.

  "They're after field mice." His narrowed black eyes cut into her flushed, averted face. "You're all but shaking. What the hell's wrong with you today?" he demanded.

  Her eyes shot back up to his and she stepped back. "Nothing. I should go."

  He realized belatedly that the sight of him without his shirt was affecting her. He didn't have to ask why. He already knew. Her hands had been shyly exploring his chest, even through the shirt, the day he'd kissed her, and she'd wanted to unfasten it. But she'd acted as if she couldn't bear to be near him ever since. She avoided him and it made him furious.

  “Why don't you run along home?'' he asked curtly. “You've done your duty, after all."

  "I didn't mind."

  "Hell!" He put the cooler down. "You can't be bothered to come within five feet of me unless somebody orders you to." He bit off the words, glaring at her. He was being unreasonable, but he couldn't help himself. "You won't bring me coffee in the office when I'm working unless the door's open and one of my brothers is within shouting distance. What do you expect, you scrawny little redhead, that the sight of you maddens me with such passion that I'm likely to ravish you on the floor? You don't even have a woman's body yet!" he muttered, his eyes on her small, pert breasts under the tank top.

  She saw where he was looking and it wounded her. The whiplash of his voice hit her like a brick. She stared at him uncomprehend-ingly, her eyes wounded. "I never...never said..." she stammered.

  "As if you could make me lose my head," he continued coldly, his voice like a sharp blade as his eyes went over her disparagingly.

  Her face flamed and the eyes that met his were suddenly clouded not with anger, but with pain. Tears flooded them and she whirled with a sob, running in the direction from which she'd come.

  She hated him! Hated him! He was the enemy. He'd never wanted her here and now he was telling her that she didn't even attract him. How obvious it was now that he'd only been playing with her when he kissed her. He didn't want her, or need her, or even like her, and she was dying of love for him! She felt sick inside. She couldn't control her tears or the sobs that broke from her lips as she ran blindly into the small sweep of thick hay that he hadn't yet cut.

  She heard his voice, yelling something, but she was too upset to hear him. Suddenly her foot hit something that gave and she stopped dead, whirling at a sound like frying bacon that came from the ground beside her.

  The ugly flat, venomous head reared as the tail that shot up from the coil rattled its deadly warning. A rattler—five feet long at least— and she'd stepped on it! Its head drew back ominiously and she was frozen with fear, too confused to act. If she moved it would strike. If she didn't move it would strike. She could already feel the pain in her leg where the fangs would penetrate....

  She was vaguely aware of a drumming sound like running, heavy footsteps. Through her tears she saw the sudden flash of something metallic go past her. The snake and its head abruptly parted company, and then long, powerful arms were around her, under her, lifting her to a sweat-glistening hard chest that was under her cheek. "God!"

  Cag's arms contracted. He was hurting her and she didn't care. Her arms tightened around his neck and she sobbed convulsively. He curled her against him in an ardent fever of need, feeling her soft breasts press hard into his bare, sweaty, hair-roughened chest as his face burrowed into her throat. She thought he trembled, but surely she imagined it. The terror came full force now that the threat was over, and she gave way to her misery.

  They clung to each other in the hot sunlight with the sultry breeze wafting around them, oblivious to the man running toward them. Tess felt the warm, hard muscles in his back strain as she touched them, felt Cag's breath in her ear, against her hair. His cheek drew across hers and her nails dug into him. His indrawn breath was audible. His arms contracted again, and this time it wasn't comfort, it was a deep, dragging hunger that found an immediate response in her.

  His face moved against hers jerkily, dragging down from her cheek, so that his lower lip slowly, achingly, began to draw itself right across her soft, parted mouth. Her breath drew in sharpl
y at the exquisite feel of it. She wanted his lips on hers, the way they had been that spring day by the stream. She wanted to kiss him until her young body stopped aching.

  He hesitated. His hand was resting at the edge of her breast and even as the embrace became hungry, she stopped breathing altogether as she felt his hard lips suddenly part and search for hers, felt the caressing pressure of those lean fingers begin to move up....

  On the edge of the abyss, a barely glimpsed movement in the distance brought Cag's dark head up and he saw Leo running toward them. He was almost trembling with the need to take Tess's soft mouth, but he forced himself to breathe normally. All the hot emotion slowly drained out of his face, and he stared at his young brother as if he didn't recognize him for the first few seconds.

  "What was it, a rattler?" Leo asked, panting for breath as he came up beside them.

  Cag nodded his head toward the snake. It lay in two pieces, one writhing like mad in the hot sun. Between the two pieces was the big hunting knife that Cag always carried when he was working alone in the fields.

  "Whew!" Leo whistled, shaking his head. "Pretty accurate, for a man who was running when he threw it. I saw you from the south field," he added.

  "I've killed a few snakes in my time," Cag replied, and averted his eyes before Leo could ask if any of them had had two legs. "Here," he murmured to Tess, his voice unconsciously tender. "Are you all right?"

  She sniffed and wiped her red eyes and nodded. She was embar­rassed, because at the last, it hadn't been comfort that had brought them so close together. It was staggering after the things he said, the harshness of his manner before she'd stepped on the snake.

  Cag put her down gingerly and moved back, but his turbulent eyes never left her.

  "It didn't strike you?" he asked belatedly, and went on one knee to search over her legs.

  "No," she faltered. The feel of those hard fingers on her skin made her weak. "No, I'm fine." She was looking down at him with eyes full of emotion. He was beautiful, she thought dazedly, and when he started to stand up again, her eyes lingered helplessly on that broad, sexy chest with its fine covering of hair. Her hand had touched it just as he put her down, and her fingers still tingled.