by Diana Palmer
Winnie laughed. “Full of fun. He always had his eye on the ladies, but he was less blatant with it. Now, he’s reckless and apparently without conscience when it comes to women. He doesn’t really care whom he hurts.”
“I don’t think he’d hurt me, though, Winnie,” she said.
“Don’t bet on it,” the other woman replied. “You put too much faith in people’s better instincts. Some people don’t have any.”
“I’ll never believe that,” Allison said firmly. “Not after what I’ve seen. Beauty often hides in the most horrible places.”
Winnie’s eyes were gentle as they glanced toward her friend. She didn’t know what to say to Allison. Probably nothing would do much good. She’d just have to hope that Gene was out, or that, if he was home, he wasn’t interested in Allison.
It was late afternoon, and still light. A gentle flutter of rain greeted them as they arrived in front of the Nelson house and darted up the steps to the front door.
“You’re early,” Marie stammered, flustered and wild-eyed when she opened the door for them. She swept back her blond hair. “Oh, gosh, do either of you know anything about first aid? Dwight had to run to town for some wine, and Gene’s ripped open his arm. I’m just hopeless...!”
“Where is he?” Allison asked, her voice cool and professional-sounding. “I know what to do.”
“Thank God!” Marie motioned them along behind her, down the long hall toward the bedrooms.
“I think I’ll wait in the living room, if you don’t mind.” Winnie hesitated, grimacing. “I’m as hopeless as Marie is.”
“You won’t be alone long,” Marie promised her. “I can’t stand the sight of blood, either! He’s in there, Allison,” she added, nodding toward an open bedroom door. “You can hear him from out in the hall.”
“I’ll look after him,” Allison assured her, leaving Marie to keep Winnie company while she ventured into the room.
Muttered curses were coming from the bathroom. Allison moved hesitantly past the antique furniture in the cream and brown confines of the room, certain that it was Gene’s. The bed was king-size. There was a desk and chair in one corner and two chairs and a floor lamp in the other, beside a fireplace. The earth tones and Native American accent pieces suited what she knew of Gene Nelson.
But she didn’t have time to study his taste in furnishings. She pushed open the bathroom door, which was already ajar, and walked in. The bathroom, like the bedroom, was done in beige and brown with a tile floor and a huge glass-fronted shower with gold fittings. There was a Jacuzzi, too. But it was the vanity sink that caught her eye. Gene was standing in front of it, in clothes similar to those he’d been wearing in town. His shirt was off and one brown, hair-roughened forearm was cut from elbow to wrist and dripping bright red blood into the marble sink.
“That needs stitching,” she said.
He turned, his green eyes darker with pain, his lean face hard and without a smile. “What the hell do you want?” he asked, irritated because he’d been thinking of her when he’d gone too close to one of his few horned cows and had his arm ripped for his pains.
“A Ferrari and a house on the Riviera,” she said. She moved close, trying not to stare blatantly at the broad, bronzed chest with its thick wedge of hair that ran down his flat stomach and under the heavy brass belt buckle that secured his jeans. He was beautifully male, so striking that she had to drag her eyes away.
“You know what I mean,” he returned shortly.
“Marie and your future sister-in-law are squeamish. I’m not. Let me see, please.” She scanned the things he’d dragged out of the medicine cabinet and proceeded to gently bathe the long gash with soap and water before she used a strong disinfectant and then an antibiotic cream. “I guess you’ll scream if I suggest the local hospital emergency room?” she asked as she worked.
He stared down at her bent dark head with mingled emotions. He’d hoped to be gone before she and Winnie arrived, but he hadn’t counted on letting his mind wander and getting himself gored. “I’ve had worse than this,” he replied.
She looked up into his searching eyes, trying to ignore the beat of her pulse and the difficulty she was having with getting her breath. She was too involved with hiding her own reactions to notice his racing pulse and quick breathing. “At least it’s stopped bleeding. I don’t suppose you have any butterfly bandages?”
“What?” he murmured, lost in her eyes.
“B...butterfly bandages,” she stammered. She dragged her eyes down to his forearm. “Never mind. I’ll make do with these.”
Her hands felt cool on his hot skin. He watched her work, marveling at the ease and confidence with which she put the dressing in place.
“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” he asked.
“Oh, yes,” she said, smiling reminiscently. “Many times. I’m used to patching up people.” She didn’t add anything to that. It was too soon to talk about her past yet.
“You’re good at it. That feels better.”
“How did it happen?”
He chuckled softly. “I zigged when I should have zagged, cupcake. Now that you’ve gotten that one under control, care to have a go at this one?”
She put the last piece of adhesive in place and lifted her eyes. “Which one?” she asked.
He pointed to a smaller gash on his chest that was still bleeding.
“I guess your shirt was a total loss,” she murmured dryly, trying to stop the trembling of her hands as she began to bathe the scratch. His chest was warm under her fingers, and she loved the feel of that thick hair as she worked through it to the cut. Her lips parted on quick, jerky breaths. He was hurt. She had to keep that in mind, and not let herself lose control like this.
“My shirt and the denim jacket I was wearing over it,” he murmured. The feel of her hands on him was giving him problems. His body began to tense slowly as he watched her clean the cut. “If you try to put a bandage on that, I’m leaving,” he added when she’d stopped the bleeding.
“I... I guess adhesive tape would hurt when it had to come off, with all that...hair,” she faltered, her eyes helplessly tracing the muscular lines of his torso with involuntary delight.
The way she said it was faintly arousing. He ran a hand over the thick mass of it, nodding absently. “Just put some antiseptic on it, honey, and we’ll let it go, okay?”
“Okay.” Honey. No man had ever called her that in such a deep, sexy way, so that her toes curled inside her shoes. She took the antibiotic cream and put a little on her fingers. But when she began to rub it gently over the cut, he flinched and her fingers paused on his body.
“Did it hurt?” she whispered, puzzled by the heavy beat of his heart under her hand and by the sudden fierce glitter of his eyes.
“Not the way you mean,” he said curtly. He felt hot all over, and when she lifted her face, he could see the same awareness there. He couldn’t let this happen, he told himself firmly. He had to stop it now.
But she smelled of flowers, and he loved the touch of those gentle hands on his bare skin. Involuntarily he traced her long, elegant fingers, simultaneously pressing them deeper into the hair on his chest so that they caressed the hard muscle. His eyes lifted to hers, holding them in a silence that was suddenly tense and hot with promise.
She looked younger tonight, in that gray dress with her hair in a braid at her back. Despite the makeup she’d used, she looked country fresh. He liked her better this way than in that sexy dress she’d worn at the barbecue. He almost said so, but he managed to bite back the comment in time.
“It’s...stopped bleeding,” she whispered. But she was looking into his eyes, not at the cut.
“So it has,” he replied.
The hand that was caressing the back of hers moved her fingers slowly over a taut, flat male nipple, letting her feel the effect her touch was having on h
im. He pressed it close and hard, his whole hand covering hers as the silence continued.
She smelled leather and a faint breath of hay on him, pleasant scents that mingled with the after-shave he wore. Her heart was beating madly, and under her fingers she could feel the fierce pulsation of his own.
“Gene,” she whispered unsteadily.
The sound of his name on her lips was his undoing. He couldn’t help himself. He bent slowly, his eyes on her soft mouth, no other thought in his mind except possession.
His hands moved up to frame her face, warm and strong on her cheeks as he tilted her head to give him total access to her parted lips.
She didn’t make even a pretense of resisting. Her hands rested lightly, with fascination, on the hard, warm contours of his chest, spearing into the thick mat of hair that covered it. She could taste his breath, warm on her mouth, and she wanted him to kiss her with an almost feverish desperation. There had never been a man she’d felt this kind of attraction to. Just once she wanted to taste him. Just...once...
Her eyes closed. She stood on her tiptoes to coax his mouth the rest of the way while the world vanished around her. She heard the sharp intake of his breath and felt his hands contract and his mouth almost touched hers.
And just then a sharp, feminine voice broke into the tense silence with all the subtlety of an explosion.
Chapter Four
“Allison, is he all right?”
Winnie’s voice hit Gene with the impact of a sledgehammer. He jerked back from Allison even as his hard mouth touched hers, his face going as rigid as the arousal he barely kept her from feeling.
He whirled away, grabbing his shirt and jacket. “Yes, he’s all right,” he called, irritated. He didn’t know which bothered him the most—the interruption or his weakness.
“Oh. Sorry!” Winnie stammered.
There were fading footsteps. “My God, does she think I’m in any condition to ravish you?” he asked angrily, running a restless hand through his thick, straight hair.
Allison was still getting her breath back. She leaned against the vanity sink, her trembling hands behind her. “You don’t understand,” she said softly, wondering if she could find the right words to explain Winnie’s protectiveness.
He turned, glancing at her irritably until his searching gaze fell to the taut nipples pressing against the soft fabric of her dress. His breath sighed out heavily. “Are you what you seem to be, Allison?” he asked unexpectedly, resignation in his tone. His eyes lifted back to capture hers. “Are you modern and sophisticated?”
“Why do you want to know?” She sidestepped the question.
His eyes narrowed and stabbed into hers. “Because there’s no way on earth I’m getting involved with you if you aren’t.”
Her heart ran wild. “Do you want to get involved with me?” she asked huskily.
“My God, can’t you tell?” he demanded. His chest rose and fell roughly. “I’ve barely touched you, and I’m on fire!”
That made two of them, but she didn’t imagine he could tell how she felt. She wanted to get close to him. If she told him the truth, he wouldn’t come near her. If she kept her secret, there was a slight chance that he might drop his guard, that she might get to see the real man, the hurting one. As for anything more, perhaps they could agree to some ground rules that would protect her until she could tell him the truth.
“I’m not modern enough to jump into bed with any man who asks,” she said simply, and met his eyes bravely. “I like to know what I’m getting into first.”
His chin lifted with faint arrogance. “You’re cautious, then. So am I. I won’t rush you. But I don’t want a platonic relationship.”
“Neither do I,” she said, but with her eyes averted.
He hesitated. Something didn’t ring true about what she was saying, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He wondered if this wasn’t lunacy. A woman was the last complication he needed right now, and he hadn’t forgotten that her best friend was marrying his brother. There were at least ten good reasons for keeping his distance, but none of them mattered when he was around Allison. He seemed to have been alone for a very long time. When he was with her, the aching loneliness vanished.
“Suppose we go to a movie tomorrow night?” he asked.
“Winnie won’t like it.”
“I’m not asking Winnie,” he replied easily. “Or anyone else. Just you and me.”
“Could we go to Cody? Isn’t there a rodeo there every night?”
He smiled slowly. “Every night during the summer,” he corrected. “We’ll save that for another time. But we can detour through Cody, if you like. The nearest movie house is in Billings.”
“Montana?” she exclaimed. “But that’s over a hundred miles away!”
“No distance at all out here, cupcake.”
“I suppose not. It’s like that in Arizona, too, but I’d forgotten.” She stared at him quietly, her heart still beating wildly. “I guess you supply animals to the rodeo in Cody, too?”
He nodded. “That one and any number of others.” He studied her for a long moment. “You’d better get out of here. I need a shower before we eat.”
“All right.”
“Unless you’d like to stay and scrub my back?” he mused, a wicked gleam in his eyes.
“It’s much too early for that sort of thing,” she told him and left with a demure glance from under her lashes.
He was smiling when she left the room, but she wasn’t. She wondered what she was letting herself in for, and how she thought she was going to keep a man like that at bay. If he really was the womanizer everyone said he was, she’d be in over her head in no time.
“He’s as good as new,” Allison assured the two women when she joined them in the living room. “Almost, anyway. The cut on his arm really needed stitching, but he won’t go to a doctor.”
“That’s Gene,” Marie said wearily. “It’s been so hard for him. I wish Dad had never left that letter. It would have been so much kinder not to have told him after such a long time. Let’s go on into the dining room. Gene won’t be long, I’m sure, and we can drink coffee while we talk.”
She led them into the dining room, where a cherry table was set under an elegant crystal chandelier. The floor was oak, highly polished, and the walls were wood paneled. It was the most elegant room Allison had seen in years. They sat down and busied themselves with coffee for several minutes before Allison finally voiced the question that had been nagging her.
“Why did your father leave a note for Gene?” she asked curiously.
Marie shook her head. “Nobody knows. Dad was honest to a fault, and he was a deep thinker. Maybe he thought Gene had the right to know. His real father is still alive, even if Gene would rather die than go to see him. Heritage, health, so many things depend on knowing who your real parents are. I think that he planned to tell Gene before he died. That would have been Dad’s way. He certainly wouldn’t have wanted him to find out the way he did. It’s hurt Gene so badly.”
“I suppose it’s been difficult for you and Dwight, too,” Allison said gently.
“You can’t imagine. We don’t care who Gene’s real dad is. Gene is our brother and we love him. But he can’t accept that,” Marie said. “He’s still trying to come to grips with it. I wonder sometimes if he ever will. Meanwhile, he’s just hell to live with.”
“Is he staying for supper?” Winnie asked with a worried glance at Allison.
“Yes,” Allison said. “At least he said he was.”
“Don’t look so worried,” Marie told Winnie, grinning at her expression. “He’ll be nice because Allison’s here. I think he likes her.”
“God forbid!” Winnie said. “You know how he is with women!”
“He won’t hurt Allison,” Marie said. “Don’t be such a worrywart.”
�
��I hope you’re right. Anyway,” Winnie sighed, “he’s involved with Dale, isn’t he?”
“No, he isn’t,” Gene said from the doorway. He lifted an eyebrow at Winnie’s shocked face as he joined them, freshly showered and shaved, dressed in a white shirt and dark slacks. He looked wickedly handsome, and Allison’s heart raced at the sight of him.
“Sorry,” Winnie began.
Gene lifted a careless hand, stopping her before she got started. “I’m not going to gobble up your houseguest,” he said quietly. “But she’ll be safer with me than some of the other yahoos around here, especially at night,” he added with a meaningful stare. “I’ll take care of her.”
“Okay. I suppose you’re right.” Winnie sighed softly. “It’s just that...” She glanced toward Allison, grimacing. “Well...”
“She’s your best friend,” Gene finished for her with a faint smile. “No problem. I won’t hurt her, Winnie.”
“Will you stop?” Allison asked Winnie on an exasperated laugh. “I’m twenty-five.”
“Yes, but...”
“What are we having for dinner?” Allison interrupted, arching her eyebrows at an amused Marie.
“Duck,” Marie returned. “And if I don’t take the orange sauce out of the microwave, we’ll be having it without sauce! Excuse me.”
Before Winnie could say anything else to Gene and Allison, Dwight was back with the wine. But all through dinner, Gene’s eyes kept darting to Allison’s, as hers did to him. Whatever there was between them, it was explosive and mutual. She hoped she wouldn’t have cause to regret giving it a chance.
Over dinner, she learned that Gene was a wizard with figures and that his taste in books ran to mysteries and biographies, while he took a conservative stand on politics and a radical one on ecology. She discovered that he enjoyed a lot of the same things she did, like winter sports and the Winter Olympics, not to mention science fiction movies. He was droll and faintly sarcastic, but underneath there had to be a sensitive caring man. Allison wanted to flush him out.
He pulled her aside while Winnie was saying good-night to Dwight and Marie.
