by Diana Palmer
“What kind of business do you have in mind?” Bess asked warily.
Gussie grinned. “A talent agency,” she said.
Bess laughed softly. Her mother actually meant it. “But what do you know about job placement?”
“Lots,” Gussie replied. “One of Frank’s best friends is in the business. I phoned him several days ago and he’s going to let me buy into his agency. He’s promised to teach me the ropes when we get back to San Antonio. To start out, I’m going to work with him. Later on I may open a new branch and operate it myself.”
“Mama!”
“Don’t faint,” Gussie laughed. “It’s really me. I just figured it was time I stopped being a liability and became an asset. When I get my first paycheck, I’ll treat you to dinner.”
“Steak, of course,” Bess murmured.
Gussie glared at her. “A burrito at Del Taco,” she corrected. “I can’t throw away money, I’m on a budget.”
“Oh, I love you,” Bess said with warmth.
Gussie could have cried when she saw the softness in her daughter’s eyes, the love and respect. It would be worth anything not to have Bess mad at her anymore. She bent down to hug the younger woman.
“I love you, too, baby, even if I haven’t said it very often or shown it very much.” She stood up, brushing away tears. “I’ll get my own apartment as soon as we get back,” she added, “providing you’re well enough to be left by yourself.”
“You can stay with me...” Bess offered hesitantly.
Gussie shook her head, smiling. “No. Now that we’re both trying to be independent, it’s best if we stick to our guns. We can visit without infringing on each other’s freedom. Okay?”
Bess smiled. “Okay.”
“Now, I’d better get back to work before the others come home.” Gussie sighed. “Acres of dust around here, what with three grown men tracking dirt in and out. Honestly, you should see what Elise has to wash out of their jeans!”
Bess sat and listened to her, totally enchanted with this new person. At least this was one positive note in her life. It didn’t make up for Cade, but it was nice all the same.
Robert was still her shadow. It was pleasant to have him to talk to, but she had a terrible feeling that it was more than friendship on his part. Even though she’d told him she had nothing to give, it made her feel guilty. And when Cade was home, it seemed to make him even colder when he saw his youngest brother in Bess’s company. He didn’t say anything or make sarcastic remarks. He simply withdrew into himself and became unapproachable. Somehow that was worse than shouting, because Bess sensed that she’d hurt him deeply.
It had been almost a month now since the accident, and Bess was up and around and feeling much better. She’d been working on her presentation for the new ad campaign in her room at night and on the front porch during the day, and it was almost done. Soon she’d be able to go back to work. She’d phoned the office every week to report her progress, and Jordan Ryker had called once or twice himself. He’d talked to Bess, but Cade had answered the phone. His dislike of Ryker and his fury at having him call Lariat were all too evident. Bess expected him to say something, but he never did. He simply ignored her afterward.
Bess was glad that she was making such progress, but Cade’s coldness was beginning to affect her work and her sleep. She couldn’t understand why he was so angry that she’d refused his proposal. He didn’t love her. Was it pride or guilt that drove him? He asked Gussie or Elise about her progress, never her. She could have told him that she was feeling much better physically. Her abdomen was healing nicely, except for occasional twinges of discomfort. Looking at it, the scars weren’t all that disfiguring. They were much less painful than the emotional ones of knowing that she could never bear a child.
Cade, meanwhile, was getting some scars of his own, and they were visible ones. He’d taken a bad toss in the bronc riding in New Mexico, and when he came home, he was limping again. The injury had aggravated the other tendon injury that had never had the chance to heal. Cade, being Cade, pushed himself until he dropped. But this time he’d added a few cuts and bruises to his face and arms, as well.
Cade had signed up for two rodeos while Bess and Gussie had been staying at Lariat. There was another one in San Antonio a few weeks down the road. He’d won good money so far on the circuit, but Bess was holding her breath now. She’d told Cade that she didn’t care for him, but it was hard to watch him without letting her dark, soft eyes show what she was feeling. Since he’d been back from New Mexico, his attitude had grown even more distant than before. He wouldn’t even look at her, especially if Robert was in the same room with them. He skipped meals, presumably to avoid her, and he looked gaunt and driven. Bess couldn’t help worrying about him, or letting it show that she did. But Cade didn’t notice her sad scrutiny.
The Friday before Bess was scheduled to go back to San Antonio to work, Elise took Gussie with her to a garden club meeting. With Robert in Kansas City for the day, Gary in town working with the bookkeeper on taxes and Cade out on the ranch, Bess was left alone in the house.
She was sitting on the porch swing, staring at her work without any particular interest, when she heard a horse riding up in the yard.
It was unusual for Cade to come home before dark. He looked perfectly at home in the saddle, his lean, elegant body in denim and chambray lazily echoing the motion of the bay under him, his Stetson at an arrogant slant across his dark, quiet face as he leaned over the pommel and stared at her.
She was wearing a colorful button-up tent sundress that didn’t put too much pressure on her rapidly healing abdomen and she was barefoot. He found her scribbling new ideas on the big sketch pad beside her, her honey-brown hair loose around her shoulders, just washed and fragrant as it waved gently in the breeze.
Her heart raced as it always did when he was anywhere in sight. All her dreams were centered on him. Her soft, dark eyes roamed over him lovingly, caressing his face, his broad shoulders tapering to narrow hips and long, powerful legs in worn black boots.
“For a woman who doesn’t want me, you have covetous eyes,” he remarked as he swung down out of the saddle and dropped the reins, leaving the horse to nibble at his mother’s prize lilacs while he mounted the steps.
She colored, her perfect complexion exquisite with the faint blush on her cheeks. “Your horse is eating Elise’s flowers,” she said softly, watching the horse devour a particularly pretty blue columbine.
He lifted an eyebrow. “They’ll grow back,” he mused.
He picked up her sketch pad, sparing a glance at the neat artwork before he laid it on the glider and sat down beside her. He took off his hat and tossed it onto the sketch pad. His lean hand ran through his dark hair, pulling it back from his forehead. The breeze was pleasant, and patches of sunlight drifted onto the porch. Cade rocked the swing back into motion, one lean arm thrown carelessly behind Bess’s shoulders.
“You’re home early,” she remarked quietly.
“I got through early.” He turned, his dark eyes sliding over her face, down to the soft rise of her breasts under the thin fabric of her dress. “Where are Gussie and my mother?”
“Gone to a garden club meeting,” she said. “Gary’s still in town with the tax man, I guess.”
“Estimated taxes are due,” Cade mused. “Just when I think we’re ahead, we fall back a few thousand.” He looked down at her. “Has Robert called?”
“No. Isn’t he coming back tonight?” she said falteringly.
His dark eyes narrowed. “Why? Can’t you stand it without him even for a day?”
She took a deep breath and lowered her eyes to the wild pastel colors of her dress. “Don’t, Cade,” she pleaded.
“Robert’s in love,” he said. “If you can’t see it, you’re either blind or too stubborn to admit it. I tried to warn you.
”
Her heart jumped. She knew it, but she didn’t want to face it. “I’ll be going back to San Antonio Monday,” she said.
“He’ll follow you there, with flowers and music and probably a ring. He wants you!”
Her eyes closed. “Why do you care?” she cried, lifting her wounded eyes to his. “You don’t want me anymore...oh!”
He reached for her, and his hard mouth covered hers without warning. All the rage that had built up in him for weeks overflowed. He was beyond sanity now, giving in to the hunger that had haunted him night and day. All he knew, wanted, needed and loved was in his arms.
“I go to bed aching at night and get up aching every morning,” he said, groaning against her mouth, “and you don’t think I want you? My God... Bess!”
He turned her, pressed her up against his wildly beating heart, against the warmth of his mouth and the leather scent of his shirt. His tongue probed inside her mouth while his hand caught her nape and held it steady. He was trembling with the violence of his need, his mouth ravenous as it pressed deeper into hers, as his tongue penetrated rhythmically into the sweet darkness of her mouth.
She moaned and so did he as the fever caught them both, burning hot and wild. It had been so long since he’d touched her, so long since he’d kissed her. She shivered with the need to be even closer to him. She loved him so, would have died for him. Tears welled up behind her closed eyelids with the sheer joy of being close to him. His cold avoidance had hurt her so much. She’d thought he was through with her altogether, but as she felt the tremor in his hard arms, she relaxed into his body. He might not love her, but at least he still wanted her. If only she could have accepted his proposal. Oh, if only!
Her arms reached around his neck, her mouth yielded to the passionate fury of his. She didn’t even protest when she felt his hand under her breast and his thumb probing the hard nipple.
The wind blew around them, the swing creaked as it moved. Cade lifted his head, his breath ragged, his lips faintly swollen and sensuous, poised above hers. His hand moved, and he watched her face as he caressed her, his thumb and forefinger gently kneading the hardness, and she gasped.
“A nipple this hard could make a man conceited,” he breathed roughly, his dark eyes holding her embarrassed ones. “And eyes like yours could make him drunk. Open your mouth. I want all of it.”
He bent over her hungrily, his parted lips biting at hers, teasing and tormenting her. Her teeth closed helplessly on his lower lip, trying to make him kiss her. Eventually he did, and she clung to him, not protesting the way he touched her, lost in the scent and feel of him, the warm strength of him against her. At her hip she could feel the sudden hardness of his body as it reacted to their feverish lovemaking, and she wasn’t afraid of it. She loved him so much that the reactions and responses of his body were as natural and acceptable to her as her own.
His mouth slid down her chin to the soft pulse in her throat and farther, to the warmth of her breast. His mouth opened and pressed down hotly over the nipple. She’d never felt anything remotely like the pleasure that shot, white-hot, through her loins. She cried out and arched under him, her fingers trembling as they ran through his cool, dark hair, holding him against her while the pleasure went on and on and on...
He bit her and she jerked away, shocked. He lifted his head to look at her. His eyes were wild, and there was a reckless look in them that made her a little afraid.
“Do you like it?” he whispered roughly. “Or are you afraid of my teeth? I won’t hurt your nipple.”
She’d never dreamed that men said such things to women. She knew her face was scarlet, but the words were oddly arousing. Her nails dug into his shoulder as he rubbed his lips sensually across hers in a travesty of a kiss.
His fingers worked at the buttons on the front of the dress, and she was in such a sensual haze that it was more relief than fear when he opened them and unfastened the clasp of her front-closing bra.
He pulled the lacy fabric away and looked down at the soft pink skin and hard mauve tips with pure masculine delight. His fingers brushed over their hardness very gently and then stroked their fullness while his eyes sought hers. “It’s all very new to you, isn’t it?” he asked, his expression stern and quiet and very adult. “I won’t hurt you any more than I have to. Unbutton my shirt.”
She was in a fog or she might have realized what he meant and what he was planning. But she was dazed with pleasure and drowning in need. She tore the buttons away with trembling hands and then caught her breath at the pure sensual feast of his chest with its bronzed muscles and the black hair that curled over them.
Her fingers roved through the thick coolness of hair and caressed him hungrily. She felt her body tighten as he suddenly stood up with her in his arms, so that her breasts pressed against his bare skin.
She shuddered and clenched her teeth at the screaming pleasure it gave her, her nails digging into his shoulders as she buried her face against his throat. “Cade,” she moaned.
“Bite me,” he said hoarsely, and when he felt her teeth, he shivered. She was everything he’d ever dreamed she could be. It wasn’t the ideal solution to the problem, but it was the only one his tortured heart could find. If he made her pregnant, she’d marry him even if it was only for the child’s sake. And he’d make her love him. She had once. If he was careful and gentle with her, he could draw that emotion out of her again. And she’d love their child, even if she didn’t love him just yet.
Cradling her against his lean body, shivering with the sweet thought of possessing her, he turned and carried her into the house. Behind them the horse lazily devoured every one of Elise’s pink peonies, unnoticed by the human beings so entranced by each other.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
BESS COULDN’T FIGHT her way out of the sensual web Cade had woven around her. She knew almost certainly that he wasn’t going to stop, but she loved him too much to protest. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her. Monday she was leaving Lariat forever. This would be all she had of him for the rest of her life.
His mouth enslaved hers, drugging her senseless. He carried her into his bedroom, his body so feverish with desire that he could hardly walk. It was wrong. But even while his mind registered that, his body was throbbing with need, his arms faintly tremulous as they held and cherished Bess.
He loved her. It would only be this one time, he told himself, just this once to hold on to. He didn’t dare admit what he was gambling to keep her. The faint hope that he might make her pregnant was pushed to the back of his mind while he fought all his repressions and principles. But it had been so long, and he loved her more than his own life. Losing her to Robert would kill him.
Bess felt him putting her down on the coverlet, and just for an instant she tried to protest. “Cade, don’t,” she whispered in a voice that was totally unconvincing. His strong hands pulled the dress away from her body.
“I can’t stop, Bess,” he whispered tenderly, his hands unsteady as they eased the fabric away from her soft pink skin. “I’ve got to have you. Sweetheart, I’ve got to,” he whispered, his mouth suddenly on her bare belly as his hands swept her briefs away along with the dress. He felt the scars under his lips, but they didn’t bother him. Bess was soft and sweet, and the scent of gardenias clung to her, making him drunk.
“I want you, too,” she moaned, and he pulled her hands to his hard, hair-covered chest and moved her fingers over the taut muscles. His mouth covered hers tenderly as his fingers worked at his belt and the zipper below it. He put her hands on him and groaned as he felt her touch him as she’d never dreamed of doing. It was intoxicating. Her hands moved experimentally, lightly touching, tracing, learning the hard lines of him. His nipples hardened when her fingers moved across them, and his flat belly rippled when her hands moved shyly back down again.
He was all muscle. Hard and warm and
definitely male. He held her hands against him as he lifted his head and sought out her eyes.
His mouth was just above hers, his lips parted, his eyes sensuous. “I dream of having you touch me like this,” he said roughly. “I dream of taking you under me and feeling all that silky softness enveloping me. You are every dream I ever dreamed.”
Her heart was turning cartwheels in her chest. He arched her back, and her soft breasts were under his mouth. He tasted her, the soft, moist suction making her whimper as he poised over her, his lean, fit body faintly trembling with hunger.
“I can’t stop,” she said, moaning with her last breath of self-control, which dissolved with the sudden intimate touch of his hand as it moved down her flat belly. She cried out as the pleasure swept through her, sobbing while he found the right pressure, the right touch, to give her a taste of what was to come.
“We’ve gone too far to stop,” he said softly. “We’ll live with the consequences,” he added, his eyes holding her wild ones for just an instant. “I’m going to cherish you. All our lives we’ll have the memory of today,” he whispered as he bent toward her.
She closed her eyes. He felt the same way she did, she thought headily. He wanted this one memory, too. Perhaps that meant that he did care for her in some way.
He fit his lips against the soft contours of hers. His tongue probed inside and she gave in completely, on fire with the hunger to give in to him. All her noble principles flew through her mind, but her body was too hopelessly abandoned to care.
“Come to me,” he murmured against her mouth.
She felt her body obeying him, coloring as her breasts pushed heavily against his hard chest and her bare belly felt the impact of stark male arousal.
“That’s good,” he breathed. His arms helped her, and his legs shifted slowly between hers, so that she was suddenly fitted into the shocking contours of his powerful body. “No, don’t be afraid of it,” he whispered when she stiffened at the stark intimacy. “I’m aroused, but I won’t lose control. This is as natural as breathing. You’ll get used to it,” he promised huskily as his mouth covered hers again, his weight pressing her gently into the mattress, the warmth and hardness of it making her tremble with new knowledge, new sensation. The feel of his hair-roughened chest over her bare breasts was as starkly pleasurable as the feel of his hips moving with exquisite tenderness over her own.
