by Diana Palmer
He seemed to sense her internal struggle, because that long leg moved enough to pin her in a position that was just shy of intimate.
She jerked and moved her hips. He caught them with one big, lean hand and held her down hard.
“Don’t do that,” he said huskily, “unless you’re in a reckless mood.”
She stilled, curious.
He let go of her hip and slid his hand into her hair, tugging off the band that held it in place behind her ears. He smoothed her hair over the carpet and looked into her face with an expression that bordered on possession.
His fingers trailed down the side of her neck to the opening of her blouse and lingered there, tracing a deliberate pattern on the soft skin that provoked a shiver from her responsive body.
His long leg moved, just barely, and her lips parted on an audible sound as her body arched involuntarily.
His hips shifted, pinning her, and his face hardened. “Do you know what that does to me? Or are you experimenting?”
She swallowed, and her eyes searched his. “I don’t know what it does,” she confessed huskily. “I feel very odd.”
“Odd how?”
His intent gaze made her heartbeat quicken. “I feel swollen,” she whispered, as if she were telling him a secret.
His gaze dropped to her parted mouth. “Where?” he breathed. “Here?” And his hand slid under her hips and lifted her right into the blatant contours of his aroused body.
She did gasp then, but she didn’t try to get away. She looked straight at him, enthralled.
“I want you,” he said in a rough whisper. “And now you know what happens when I want you.” His hand contracted, grinding her against him. “You’d better be sure what you want, before I go over the edge.”
Her body seemed to dissolve under him. She made a husky little sound deep in her throat and shivered as delicious sensations rippled through her body.
He groaned. His hand moved into the thick fall of her hair and pinned her head as he bent down. “I should be shot,” he ground out against her parted lips.
“Why?” she moaned, lifting her arms around his neck.
“Nat…”
The sound went into her mouth. He kissed her with a barely leashed hunger that made every secret dream of her life come true. She relaxed under him, reached up to hold him tight, moved her legs to admit the harsh downward thrust of his hips. She moaned again, a sound almost of anguish, as the kiss grew harder and slower and more insistent. He tasted of hot chocolate and pure man as he explored her soft, willing mouth. She’d been kissed, but never like this. He knew more about women than she ever expected to learn about men. She matched his hunger with enthusiasm rather than experience, and he knew immediately that she was in over her head.
He lifted his mouth, noticing with reluctant pleasure that she followed its ascent, trying to coax it back over her lips.
“No,” he whispered tenderly, holding her down with a gentle arm right across her hard-tipped breasts.
“Why not?” she asked miserably. “Don’t you like kissing me?”
He drew in an unsteady breath and ground his hips against hers. “Does that feel as if I like it?” he asked with black humor.
She just looked at him, a little shy but totally without understanding.
He shifted so that he was beside her on the carpet, arched across her yielding, taut body. “I don’t keep anything in my wallet to use,” he said bluntly. “If you want to make love, I have to go to town and buy something to keep you from getting pregnant. Does that make it any clearer?”
Her eyes seemed to widen impossibly for a few seconds. “You mean…have sex?”
“A man has sex with a one-night stand. You’re not one.”
She studied him quietly, with open curiosity. “I’m not?”
He traced her mouth with a lean forefinger, watching it open hungrily. “I want you very badly,” he whispered. “But your conscience would beat you to death, with or without precautions.”
She still hesitated. “Maybe…”
He put his finger across her lips. “Maybe not,” he said with returning good humor. “I came over to teach you biology, not reproduction.”
“You don’t want babies,” she said, and she sounded sad.
He grimaced. “I don’t want them right now,” he corrected. “One day, I’d like several.” He traced her thin eyebrows lazily. “You haven’t had much experience with men.”
“I’m doing my best to learn,” she murmured dryly.
His fingers trailed into her hair and speared into its softness. “I’ll tell you what to do, when the time comes. This isn’t it,” he added only half humorously.
She eyed him mischievously. “Are you sure?” She moved deliberately and smiled as he shuddered.
He caught her hip and held her down. “I’m sure,” he resigned.
“Okay.” She sighed and relaxed into the carpet. “I guess I can live on dreams if I have to.”
He pursed his lips. “Do you dream about me?”
“Emphatically,” she confessed.
“Should I ask how you dream about me?”
“I’ll spare you the blushes,” she told him, and moved away so that she could sit up. She pushed back her disheveled hair.
“So they’re that sort of dreams, are they?” he asked, chuckling.
“I don’t suppose you dream about me,” she fished.
He didn’t say anything for a long moment. Finally, he sat up and got to his feet gracefully. “I’m leaving while there’s still time,” he said, and he grinned at her.
“Craven coward,” she muttered. “You’d never make a teacher. You have no patience with curious students.”
“You’ve got enough curiosity for both of us,” he told her. “Walk me to the door.”
“If I must.”
He paused with the door open and looked down at her with open possession. “One step at a time, Nat,” he said softly. “Slow and easy.”
She blushed at the tone and the soft insinuation.
He bent and brushed his mouth briefly against hers. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you Friday.”
“We’re still going to Billings?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he said gently. “Good night.”
Frustrated and weak in her knees, she watched him stride to his car. She didn’t know how it was going to work out, but she knew that there was no going back to the old easy friendship they’d once enjoyed. She wasn’t sure if she was glad or not.
Chapter 4
There were plenty of nervous faces and anxious conversations when Natalie sat in the biology classroom to wait for the professor to hand out the written test questions. She’d assumed that the lab questions would require everyone to file into the lab with another sheet of paper and identify the labeled exhibits there. But the professor announced that the dissection questions were on a separate sheet included with the exam. Everybody was on edge. It was common knowledge that many people failed the finals in this subject and had to retake the course. Natalie prayed that she wouldn’t. She couldn’t graduate with her class if she flubbed it.
When the papers were handed out, the professor gave the go-ahead. Natalie read each question carefully before she began to fill in the tiny circles of the multiple choice questions. As she studied the drawing of the dissected rat and noted the placement of the various marks, she found that she remembered almost every single one. She was certain that she was going to pass the course. Mack had made sure of it. She almost whooped for joy when she turned in her paper and pencil. There was one more thing required—she had to fill out a rating sheet for the professor and the course, a routine part of finals. She loved the class and respected the professor, so her answers were positive. She turned in that sheet, too, and left the room. There were still fifteen people huddled over their papers when she went out the door, with only five minutes left for completion.
She almost danced to her car. One down, she thought delightedly. Thre
e to go. And then, graduation! She could hardly wait to share her good news with Mack.
The week went by very quickly. Natalie was almost certain to graduate, because she knew she did well on her finals. The only real surprise would be her final grade, and it would include the marks she received for her practice teaching. She hoped her scores would be good enough to satisfy the school where she would begin her career next term.
When Friday rolled around, she breathed a sigh of relief as she left the English classroom where she’d finished her final round of questions. It was like being freed from jail, she reflected. Although she would miss her classmates and her professors, it had been a long four years. She was ready to go out into the world.
She hadn’t heard from Mack all week. Vivian called her Thursday night to ask if she was still planning to go out with them. She didn’t sound very enthusiastic about the double date. Natalie tried to smooth it over, but she knew that her friend was jealous, and she didn’t know what to do about it. She must discuss it with Mack, she decided.
She tried his cell phone, and he answered with a voice that held both terse authority and irritation.
“Mack?” she asked, surprised by the tone, which he never used with her.
“Nat?” The impatience was gone immediately. “I thought you’d have forgotten this number by now,” he added in a slow, smooth tone that sounded amused. “What do you want?”
“I need to talk to you.”
There was a pause. She heard him cover the mouthpiece and talk to someone in the tone she’d heard when he first answered the phone. Then his voice came back to her. “Okay. Go ahead.”
“Not over the phone,” she said uncomfortably.
“All right. I’ll come over.”
“But I’m ready to leave,” she protested. “I have to drive to town to buy a dress for tonight.”
There was a pause. “Good for you.”
“It’s your fault. You keep making fun of the only dress I’ve got.”
“I’ll pick you up in ten minutes,” he said.
“I told you, I’m going—”
“I’m going with you,” he said. “Ten minutes.”
The line went dead. Oh, no, she thought, foreseeing disaster. He’d have the women in the clothing store standing on their heads, and before he was through, the security guards would probably carry him out in a net.
But she realized it wasn’t going to be easy to thwart him. Even if she jumped in her car and left, he knew where she was going. He’d simply follow her. It might be better to humor him. After all, she didn’t have to buy a dress today. She could wear the one he didn’t like.
He drew up in front of the door exactly ten minutes later, pushing the passenger door open when she came out of the house and locked it.
His dark gaze traveled over her neat figure in gray slacks and a gray and white patterned knit top. He wasn’t wearing chaps or work boots. She assumed he’d been instructing his men on how to work cattle instead of helping with roundup. He looked clean and unruffled. She was willing to bet his men didn’t.
“How many of your men have quit since this morning?” she asked amusedly after she’d fastened her seat belt.
He gave her a quick glare before he pulled the big, double-cabbed truck out of her driveway and into the ranch road that led to the highway. “Why do you think anyone quit?”
“It’s roundup,” she pointed out. She leaned against the door and studied him with a wicked grin. “Somebody always quits. Usually,” she added, “it’s the man who thinks he knows more than you do about vaccinations and computer-chip ear tags.”
He made an uncomfortable movement and gave her a piercing glance before his foot went down harder on the accelerator. She noticed his boots. Clean and nicely polished.
“Jones quit,” he confessed after a minute. “But he was going to quit anyway,” he added immediately. “He thinks he knows too much about computer technology to waste it on a cattle ranch.”
“You corrected him about the way he programmed your computer,” she guessed.
He glared at her. “He did it wrong,” he burst out. “What the hell was I supposed to do, let him tangle my herd records so that I couldn’t track weight-gain ratios at all?”
She chuckled softly. “I get the picture.”
He took off his gray Stetson and stuck in into the hat carrier above the visor. Impatient fingers raked his thick, straight black hair. “He was lumping the calves with the other cattle,” he muttered. “They have to be done separately, or the data’s no use to me.”
“Had he ever worked on a ranch?”
“He worked on a pig farm,” he said, and looked absolutely disgusted.
She hid a smile. “I see.”
“He said the sort of operation didn’t matter, that he knew enough about spreadsheet programs that it wouldn’t matter.” He glanced at her. “He didn’t know anything.”
“Ah, now I remember,” she teased. “You took the computer programming courses last semester.”
“I passed with honors,” he related. “Something he sure as hell didn’t do!”
“I hope you never take a course in teaching,” she said to herself.
“I heard that,” he shot at her.
“Sorry.”
He paused at the highway to make sure it was clear before he turned onto it. “How did exams go?”
“Much better than I expected,” she said with a smile. “Thanks for helping me with the biology test.”
He smiled. “I enjoyed it.”
She wasn’t sure how to take that, and when he glanced at her with a sensuous smile, she flushed.
“What sort of dress are you going to buy?” he asked.
She gave him a wary look. “I want a simple black one.”
“Velvet’s in this season,” he said carelessly. “You’d look good in green velvet. Emerald green.”
“I don’t know…”
“I like the feel of it in my hands.”
Her eyes narrowed and she glared at him. “Oh, does Glenna wear it?” she asked before she thought.
“No.” He studied her for as long as he dared take his gaze off the highway. He smiled. “I like that.”
“You like what?” she asked irritably.
“You’re jealous.”
Her heart skipped a beat. She stared out the window, searching for a defense.
“It wasn’t a complaint,” he said after a minute.
“I still don’t want to be anyone’s mistress, in case you were wondering,” she said blatantly, hoping to distract him. She was jealous—she just didn’t want to admit it.
He chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
It was a short drive. She told him where she wanted to go, and he pulled the truck into a parking space near the door of the small boutique.
“You don’t have to come in, too,” she protested when he joined her on the sidewalk.
“Left to your own devices, you’ll come out carrying a black sack with shoulder straps. Where you go, I go,” he said imperturbably. “Think of me as a fashion consultant.”
She glared at him, but he didn’t budge. “All right,” she gave in. “But don’t you start handing out advice to the saleslady! If you do, I’m leaving.”
“Fair enough.”
He followed her into the shop, where a young woman and an older one were browsing through dresses on a sale rack.
As Natalie headed in that direction, he caught her hand gently in his and maneuvered her to the designer dresses.
“But I can’t…” she began.
He put his forefinger across her soft mouth. “Come on.”
He gave her a considering look and moved hangers until he found a mid-calf-length velvet dress with cape sleeves and a discreet V neckline. He pulled it out, holding it up to Natalie’s still body. “Yes,” he said quietly. “The color does something for your eyes. It makes them change color.”
“Why, yes, it does,” an elderly saleslady said from behind him. �
�And that particular model is on sale, too,” she added with a smile. “We ordered it for a young bride who became unexpectedly pregnant and had to bring it back.”
Natalie looked at the dress and then at Mack with uncertainty in her face.
“It’s okay,” he murmured drolly. “Pregnancy isn’t contagious.”
The saleslady had to turn away quickly. The younger woman across the shop couldn’t help herself and burst out laughing.
“Try it on,” he coaxed. “Just for fun.”
She clasped it to her chest, turned and followed the saleslady to the back of the store where the fitting rooms were located.
How Mack had judged the size so correctly, she didn’t want to guess. But it was a perfect fit, and he was absolutely right about the way it changed her eyes. It made her look mysterious, seductive, even sexy. Despite her lack of conventional beauty, it gave her an air of sophistication. She looked pretty, she thought, surprised.
“Well?” he asked from outside the fitting room.
She hesitated. Oh, why not, she asked herself. She opened the stall door and walked into the shop.
Mack didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. His whole face seemed to clench as he studied her seductive young body in the exquisite garment that fit her like a custom-made glove.
“Well?” she asked, echoing his former query.
His gaze went up to collide with hers. He didn’t say a word. His hands were in his pockets, and he didn’t remove them. He couldn’t seem to stop looking at her.
“It was made for you, my dear,” the saleslady said with a sigh.
“We’ll take it,” Mack said quietly.
“But, Mack, I’m not sure…” she began. There hadn’t been a price tag on the garment, and even on sale, it might be more than her budget could stand.
“I am.” He turned on his heel and followed the saleslady out of the fitting room.
Natalie looked after them wistfully. She could protest, but Mack and the saleslady had just formed a team that the Dallas Cowboys couldn’t defeat. She gave in.
