Passion Flower

by Diana Palmer

  “No,” she said. “I didn’t see any reason to tell him. Everett...!”

  “Why didn’t you say something at the beginning?” he demanded, ramming his hand into his pocket to fish for another cigarette.

  “What was there to say?” she asked impotently. She took the sweater from around her shoulders, and her green eyes pleaded with him. “Everett, I’m just the same as I always was.”

  “Not hardly,” he said. His jaw clenched as he lit the cigarette. “You came here looking like a straggly little hen. And now...” He blew out a cloud of smoke, letting his eyes savor the difference. They lingered for a long time on her blouse, narrowing, burning. “I brought a city girl here once,” he said absently. His eyes caught hers. “When she found out that I had more ideas than I had money, she turned around and ran. We were engaged,” he said on a short laugh. “I do have the damndest blind spot about women.”

  She wrapped her arms around her chest. “Why does it make so much difference?” she asked. “I only took the designing job to help, Rett,” she added. She moved closer. “I just wanted to pay you back, for giving me a job when I needed it. I knew you couldn’t afford me, but I was in trouble, and you sacrificed for me.” Her eyes searched his dark, hard face. “I wanted to do something for you. I wanted you to have your bull.”

  His face hardened and he turned away, as if he couldn’t bear the sight of her. He raised the cigarette to his lips and his back was ramrod straight.

  “I want you to leave,” he said.

  “Yes, I know,” she said on a soft little sigh. “When?”

  “At the end of the week.”

  So soon? she thought miserably. Her eyes clouded as she stared at his back, seeing the determination in every hard line of it. “Do you hate me?” she asked in a hurting tone.

  He turned around slowly, the cigarette held tautly in one hand, and his eyes slashed at her. He moved closer, with a look in his dark eyes that was disturbing.

  With a smooth motion, he tossed the unfinished cigarette into an ashtray on the table and reached for her.

  “I could hate you,” he said harshly. “If I didn’t want you so damned much.” He bent his head and caught her mouth with his.

  She stiffened for an instant, because there was no tenderness in this exchange. He was rough and hurting, deliberately. Even so, she loved him. If this was all he could give, then it would be enough. She inched her trapped hands up to his neck and slid them around it. Her soft mouth opened, giving him all he wanted of it. She couldn’t respond, he left her no room. He was taking without any thought of giving back the pleasure.

  His hard hands slid roughly over her breasts and down to her hips and ground her against him in a deep, insolent rhythm, letting her feel what she already knew—that he wanted her desperately.

  “Was it all a lie?” he ground out against her mouth. “Are you really a virgin?”

  Her lips felt bruised when she tried to speak. “Yes,” she said shakily. He was still holding her intimately, and when she tried to pull back, he only crushed her hips closer.

  “No, don’t do that,” he said with a cruel smile. “I like to feel you. Doesn’t it give you a sense of triumph, city girl, knowing how you affect me?”

  Her hands pushed futilely at his hard chest. “Everett, don’t make me feel cheap,” she pleaded.

  “Could I?” He laughed coldly. “With your prospects?” His hands tightened, making her cry out. His mouth lowered. This time it was teasing, tantalizing. He brushed it against her own mouth in whispery motions that worked like a narcotic, hypnotizing her, weakening her. She began to follow those hard lips with her own, trying to capture them in an exchange that would satisfy the ache he was creating.

  “Do you want to stay with me, Jenny?” he whispered.

  “Yes,” she whispered back, her whole heart in her response. She clutched at his shirtfront with trembling fingers. Her mouth begged for his. “Yes, Everett, I want to stay...!”

  His breath came hard and fast at her lips. “Then come upstairs with me, now, and I’ll let you,” he breathed.

  It took a minute for his words to register, and then she realized that his hands had moved to the very base of her spine, to touch her in ways that shocked and frightened her.

  She pulled against his hands, her face red, her eyes wild. “What do you mean?” she whispered.

  He laughed, his eyes as cold as winter snow. “Don’t you know? Sleep with me. Or would you like to hear it in a less formal way?” he added, and put it in words that made her hand come up like a whip.

  He caught it, looking down at her with contempt and desire and anger all mixed up in his hard face. “Not interested?” he asked mockingly. “You were a minute ago. You were the other night, when you let me strip you.”

  Her teeth clenched as she tried to hang on to her dignity and her pride. “Let me go,” she whispered shakily.

  “I could please you, city girl,” he said with a bold, slow gaze down her taut body. “You’re going to give in to a man someday. Why not me? Or do I need to get rich first to appeal to you?”

  Tears welled up in her eyes. His one hand was about to crack the delicate bone in her wrist, and the other was hurting her back. She closed her eyelids to shut off the sight of his cold face. She loved him so. How could he treat her this way? How could he be so cruel after that tenderness they’d shared!

  “No comment?” he asked. He dropped his hands and retrieved his still-smoking cigarette from the ashtray. “Well, you can’t blame a man for trying. You seemed willing enough the other night. I thought you might like some memories to carry away with you.”

  She’d had some beautiful ones, she thought miserably, until now. Her hands reached, trembling, for her sweater. She held it over her chest and wouldn’t look up.

  “I’ve got some correspondence on the desk you can type when you run out of things to do in the kitchen,” he said, turning toward the door. He looked back with a grim smile on his lips. “That way you can make up some of the time you spent decorating that woman’s house for her.”

  She still didn’t speak, didn’t move. The world had caved in on her. She loved him. And he could treat her like this, like some tramp he’d picked up on the street!

  He drew in a sharp breath. “Don’t talk, then,” he said coldly. “I don’t give a damn. I never did. I wanted you, that’s all. But if I had the money, I could have you and a dozen like you, couldn’t I?”

  She managed to raise her ravaged face. He seemed almost to flinch at the sight of it, but he was only a blur through the tears in her eyes, and she might have been mistaken.

  “Say something!” he ground out.

  She lifted her chin. Her pale, swollen eyes just stared at him accusingly, and not one single word left her lips. Even if he threw her against the wall, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of even one syllable!

  He drew in a furious breath and whirled on his heel, slamming out the door.

  She went upstairs like a zombie, hardly aware of her surroundings at all. She went into her room and took the uncashed checks that he’d signed for her salary and put them neatly on her dresser. She packed very quickly and searched in her purse. She had just enough pocket money left to pay a cab. She could cash the design firm’s check in town when she got there. She called the cab company and then lifted her case and went downstairs to wait for it.

  Everett was nowhere in sight, neither were Eddie and Bib, when the taxi came winding up the driveway. She walked down the steps, her eyes dry now, her face resolved, and got inside.

  “Take me into town, please,” she said quietly.

  The cab pulled away from the steps, and she scanned the ranchhouse and the corrals one last time. Then she turned away and closed her eyes. She didn’t look back, not once.

  * * *

  Fortunately, J
ennifer had no trouble landing a job. Sally Wade had been so impressed with the work that she’d done for Mrs. Whitehall that she practically created a position for Jennifer in her small, and still struggling, design firm. Jennifer loved the work, but several weeks had passed before she was able to think about Everett without crying.

  * * *

  The cup of coffee at Jennifer’s elbow was getting cold. She frowned at it as her hand stilled on the sketch she was doing for a new client.

  “Want some fresh?” Sally Wade asked from the doorway, holding her own cup aloft. “I’m just going to the pot.”

  “Bless you,” Jennifer laughed.

  “That’s the first time you’ve really looked happy in the three months since you’ve been here,” Sally remarked, cocking her head. “Getting over him?”

  “Over whom?” came the shocked reply.

  “That man, whoever he was, who had you in tears your first week here. I didn’t pry, but I wondered,” the older woman confessed. “I kept waiting for the phone to ring, or a letter to come. But nothing did. I kind of thought that he had to care, because you cared so much.”

  “He wanted a mistress,” Jennifer said, putting it into words. “And I wanted a husband. We just got our signals crossed. Besides,” she added with a wan smile, “I’m feeling worlds better. I’ve got a great job, a lovely boss, and even a part-time boyfriend. If you can call Drew a boy.”

  “He’s delightful.” Sally sighed. “Just what you need. A live wire.”

  “And not a bad architect, either. You must be pleased he’s working with us.” She grinned. “He did a great job on that office project last month.”

  “So did you,” Sally said, smiling. She leaned against the doorjamb. “I thought it a marvelous idea, locating a group of offices in a renovated mansion. It only needed the right team, and you and Drew work wonderfully well together.”

  “In business, yes.” Jennifer twirled her pencil around in her slender fingers. “I just don’t want him getting serious about me. If it’s possible for him to get serious about anyone.” She laughed.

  “Don’t try to bury yourself.”

  “Oh, I’m not. It’s just...” She shrugged. “I’m only now getting over... I don’t want any more risks. Not for a long time. Maybe not ever.”

  “Some men are kind-hearted,” Sally ventured.

  “So why are you single?” came the sharp reply.

  “I’m picky,” Sally informed her with a sly smile. “Very, very picky. I want Rhett Butler or nobody.”

  “Wrong century, wrong state.”

  “You’re from Georgia. Help me out!”

  “Sorry,” Jennifer murmured. “If I could find one, do you think I’d tell anybody?”

  “Point taken. Give me that cup and I’ll fill it for you.”

  “Thanks, boss.”

  “Oh, boy, coffee!” a tall, redheaded man called from the doorway as he closed the door behind him. “I’ll have mine black, with two doughnuts, a fried egg...”

  “The breakfast bar is closed, Mr. Peterson,” Jennifer told him.

  “Sorry, Drew,” Sally added. “You’ll just have to catch your own chicken and do it the hard way.”

  “I could starve,” he grumbled, ramming his hands in his pockets. He had blue eyes, and right now they were glaring at both women. “I don’t have a wife or a mother. I live alone. My cook hates me...”

  “You’re breaking my heart,” Sally offered.

  “You can have the other half of my doughnut,” Jennifer said, holding up a chunk of doughnut with chocolate clinging to it.

  “Never mind.” Drew sighed. “Thanks all the same, but I’ll just wither away.”

  “That wouldn’t be difficult,” Jennifer told him. “You’re nothing but skin and bones.”

  “I gained two pounds this week,” he said, affronted.

  “Where is it,” Sally asked with a sweeping glance, “in your big toe?”

  “Ha, ha,” he laughed as she turned to go to the coffeepot.

  “You are thin,” Jennifer remarked.

  He glared at her. “I’m still a growing boy.” He stretched lazily. “Want to ride out to the new office building with me this morning?”

  “No, thanks. I’ve got to finish these drawings. What do you think?”

  She held one up, and he studied them with an architect’s trained eye. “Nice. Just remember that this,” he said, pointing to the vestibule, “is going to be a heavy-traffic area, and plan accordingly.”

  “There goes my white carpet,” she teased.

  “I’ll white carpet you,” he muttered. He pursed his lips as he studied her. “Wow, lady, what a change.”

  She blinked up at him. “What?”

  “You. When you walked in here three months ago, you looked like a drowned kitten. And now...” He only sighed.

  She was wearing a beige suit with a pink candy-striped blouse and a pink silk scarf. Her blond hair was almost platinum with its new body and sheen, and she’d had it trimmed so that it hung in wispy waves all around her shoulders. Her face was creamy and soft and she was wearing makeup again. She looked nice, and his eyes told her so.

  “Thanks.”

  He pursed his lips. “What for?”

  “The flattery,” she told him. “My ego’s been even with my ankles for quite a while.”

  “Stick with me, kid, I’ll get it all the way up to your ears,” he promised with an evil leer.

  “Sally, he’s trying to seduce me!” she called toward the front of the office.

  She expected some kind of bantering reply, but none was forthcoming. She looked up at Drew contemplatively. “Reckon she’s left?”

  “No. She’s answered the phone. You still aren’t used to the musical tone, are you?”

  No, she wasn’t. There were quite a lot of things she wasn’t used to, and the worst of them was being without Everett. She had a good job, a nice apartment, and some new clothes. But without him, none of that mattered. She was going through the motions, and little more. His contempt still stung her pride when she recalled that last horrible scene. But she couldn’t get him out of her mind, no matter how she tried.

  “Well!” Sally said, catching her breath as she rejoined them. “If the rest of him looks like this voice, I may get back into the active part of the business. That was a potential client, and I think he may be the Rhett Butler I’ve always dreamed of. What a silky, sexy voice!”

  “Dream on,” Jennifer teased.

  “He’s coming by in the morning to talk to us. Wants his whole house done!” the older woman exclaimed.

  “He must have a sizeable wallet, then,” Drew remarked.

  Sally nodded. “He didn’t say where the house was, but I assume it’s nearby. It didn’t sound like a long-distance call.” She glanced at Jennifer with a smile. “Apparently your reputation has gotten around, too,” she laughed. “He asked if you’d be doing the project. I had the idea he wouldn’t have agreed otherwise.” She danced around with her coffee cup in her hand. “What a godsend. With the office building and this job, we’ll be out of the red, kids! What a break!”

  “And you were groaning about the bills just yesterday,” Jennifer laughed. “I told you something would turn up, didn’t I?”

  “You’re my lucky charm,” Sally told her. “If I hadn’t hired you, I shudder to think what would have happened.”

  “You know how much I appreciated getting this job,” Jennifer murmured. “I was in pretty desperate circumstances.”

  “So I noticed. Well, we did each other a lot of good. We still are,” Sally said warmly. “Hey, let’s celebrate. Come on. I’ll treat you two to lunch.”

  “Lovely!” Jennifer got up and grabbed her purse. “Come on, Drew, let’s hurry before she changes her mind!”

&
nbsp; She rushed out the door, with Drew in full pursuit, just ahead of Sally. And not one of them noticed the man sitting quietly in the luxury car across the street, his fingers idly caressing a car phone in the backseat as he stared intently after them.

  Chapter Eight

  DREW HAD asked Jennifer to go out with him that night, but she begged off with a smile. She didn’t care for the nightlife anymore. She went to company functions with Sally when it was necessary to attract clients or discuss new projects, but that was about the extent of her social consciousness. She spent most of her time alone, in her modest apartment, going over drawings and planning rooms.

  She enjoyed working for Sally. Houston was a big city, but much smaller than New York. And while there was competition, it wasn’t as fierce. The pressure was less. And best of all, Jennifer was allowed a lot of latitude in her projects. She had a free hand to incorporate her own ideas as long as they complemented the client’s requirements. She loved what she did, and in loving it, she blossomed into the woman she’d once been. But this time she didn’t allow herself to fall into the trap of overspending. She budgeted, right down to the pretty clothes she loved—she bought them on sale, a few at a time, and concentrated on mix-and-match outfits.

  It was a good life. But part of her was still mourning Everett. Not a day went by when she couldn’t see him, tall and unnerving, somewhere in her memory. They’d been so good for each other. She’d never experienced such tenderness in a man.

  She got up from the sofa and looked out at the skyline of Houston. The city was bright and beautiful, but she remembered the ranch on starry nights. Dogs would howl far in the distance, crickets would sing at the steps. And all around would be open land and stars and the silhouettes of Everett’s cattle.

  She wrapped her arms around her body and sighed. Perhaps someday the pain would stop and she could really forget him. Perhaps someday she could remember his harsh accusations and not be wounded all over again. But right now, it hurt terribly. He’d been willing to let her stay as his mistress, as a possession to be used when he wanted her. But he wouldn’t let her be part of his life. He couldn’t have told her more graphically how little he thought of her. That had hurt the most. That even after all the caring, all the tenderness, she hadn’t reached him at all. He hadn’t seen past the shape of her body and his need of it. He hadn’t loved her. And he’d made sure she knew it.