Champagne Girl

by Diana Palmer

  “Okay.” She sat down and stared at the keyboard, a hundred conflicting emotions making her restless, disturbing her. She was hot despite the air-conditioning. It was already late September, but the weather was getting hotter instead of colder, if today was any indication.

  “Don’t wear your hair like that tonight,” he said suddenly.

  She glanced up, remembering that she had her chestnut waves in a bun on top of her head. “What?”

  “Leave it loose. I hate hairpins.”

  “Do you ever stop giving orders?” she asked.

  “Sure. In bed.”

  Her face flushed, and he smiled—a sensual, confident smile that frightened her a little. He was a predator, and she was the quarry. That was what she’d always thought she wanted, but now that it was happening, she was afraid.

  “Anyway,” she continued nervously, “I’m not sure I want to go to a drive-in with you.”

  “Yes, you do,” he returned. He leaned over her, surrounding her, one hand on her chair, the other on the edge of the desk. His dark face was close to hers, and she could see the hard lines in it, the twist of his firm lips, the silver sprinkled in the darkness of his straight, thick hair. His cheek was very close, and she wanted to touch its hardness.

  Her eyes lifted to his and got lost there. She saw the muscles in his jaw go taut as they stared at each other, and his breathing began to get ragged.

  “I want your mouth, Catherine,” he said unexpectedly. “So I think I’d better get out of here before I shock a few people.”

  He stood up, and she fumbled with the papers on the desk, feeling all thumbs and inexperienced while she tried to decide if she’d just been hearing things or if he’d really said what she thought she’d heard.

  “I’ll, uh, get started,” she said in a husky voice.

  “You do that.” He stuck his hands in his pockets, reading the flash of uncertainty on her face. “Catherine, I won’t hurt you,” he said under his breath.

  She really crimsoned then, and he sauntered out of the office, catching other pairs of eyes as he walked. He really was the most devastating man!

  What was she going to do? She wanted him so much. There had never really been anyone in her heart except Matt though the only interest he’d ever shown in her before was to check out the competition. He seemed to accept it as a necessity, but he made it as uncomfortable as he could for her few dates.

  She wondered at the extent of his possessiveness. He’d worked his way into her life so slowly that, before she’d realized it, he’d become her life. And he knew it. That was what hurt most, that he had her in the palm of his hand while he was still going out with a string of women. He didn’t even make a secret of it. Because, she told herself, he never got serious. He wouldn’t get serious about her, either. She’d have to keep that in mind in case she got stupid and started begging him to kiss her at the drive-in.

  For the time being, she decided to concentrate all her energy on preparing the publicity she would get out for Matt’s foundation sale. And that meant she needed a list of the lots of cattle he was going to sell. She pulled them out of the computer, complete with herd numbers, lineage, weights and gaining ratios. It was a complicated business, cattle raising, but Catherine knew enough about it to get by.

  She worked out a set of dates for releasing information and got together a list of potential out-of-state buyers to contact, all her tumultuous feelings forgotten in her fascination with her new job. Then she went to find Matt.

  “If you’re looking for Matt, he’s already gone.” Angel sighed, chin in her hands as she stared wistfully at the door. “He’s flying down to San Antonio with his lunch date. I’ll bet it’s that Laredo real estate agent again,” she murmured. “She’s been hanging around for a month. Well, at least she’s better than the oil company executive lady from New Orleans,” she added with a bright smile.

  “I didn’t know there was a current lady,” Catherine said, trying to sound lighthearted. “We never see them at the house.”

  “I don’t imagine so!” Angel said meaningfully. “We only know because they call him here. This last one has been around for about three months. But I think he’s getting tired of her. He’s been dodging her calls all week.”

  It was a horrible reminder of what would happen to her if she let Matt get too close, of what would happen when he tired of her innocence. He wasn’t a marrying man; he’d said so. That only left one thing he could want, and after last night, she knew she was on the endangered-species list. That almost-kiss had knocked her to her knees. She could barely imagine what it would be like if he started making love to her.

  And tonight he was going to take her to a drive-in, and she was going to go under in a haze if he touched her. She had to find an excuse not to go. The real estate agent from Laredo could have him, she thought venomously. She didn’t care!

  Catherine returned to her desk and turned the computer back on. She entered more information onto the disk, then hit the wrong keys. The program disk crashed before her startled eyes and she felt herself caving in. What a beautiful way to start a new job!

  “Angel,” she called sweetly.

  The older girl stuck her head around the doorway with a grin. “Problems?”

  “Uh, do you happen to have a spare program disk?” Catherine asked.

  Angel grinned. “I did that my first day. Now I don’t feel so alone. Back in a jiffy.”

  Catherine started all over again, furious with Matt for his attitude toward her when all the time he was seeing another woman. She glared at the screen and smiled slowly. Well, she did want to go to New York, didn’t she? And if she failed at this, she was sure to get there even quicker. Matt’s anger would be a minor obstacle, but she’d face it when she had to. With a wicked smile, she began to alter the names of the cattle. Only a little, of course. Names like “Comanche Flats Mile High #42” to “Comanche Flats Mule High #42.” And then there was “Black Gold #20” to “Black Mold #20.” When she got to the part about each bull’s sire and dam, it got better. “This young bull’s mother was the lovely Comanche Flats debutante heifer Miss Standish #10, who early in life married the dashing Comanche Flats bull Mr. Struts.”

  She had to close the door to Matt’s office to keep Angel from overhearing her wild giggles as she entered the information for the brochure. Well, Matt wanted something catchy, didn’t he? What a surprise this would be!

  Chapter Four

  Catherine spent the rest of the day hiding in laughter. But she kept thinking ahead to the night and tingled all over. Waves of feeling like nothing she’d ever experienced in her life were buffeting her. She wanted Matt with a fever. She wanted Matt so much that even remembering the Laredo real estate agent didn’t faze her. She wasn’t a shrinking violet, after all. She had a few things going for her, too. And if last night was any indication, Matt wasn’t exactly immune to her. That gave her an edge.

  He hadn’t come back when it was quitting time, so Catherine hitched a ride back up to the house with Angel. There was a note from Betty saying she’d gone into town to visit Mrs. Guthrie, one of her friends, and would be late. Annie always visited her sister on Friday night, so she wasn’t there. Hal was in Houston. With a sigh, Catherine wondered if Matt would be back tonight, and since she hadn’t heard otherwise, she assumed he would.

  Since he’d said they were going to a movie, she dressed casually in a soft lavender silk blouse that buttoned and a striped lavender, burgundy and gray wraparound skirt. She left her hair long, brushing it until it fell softly and silkily around her face and shoulders. She stared at herself, liking what she saw. Now, if only Matt liked what he saw…

  It was after six when he came home. He looked tired for once, but his eyes darkened and twinkled when he saw Catherine.

  “Nice,” he murmured deeply.

  She curtsied. “I had my body designed just to please you,” she said with a laugh.

  A smile crossed his tired face. “Butterfly,” he said. “You co
lor the world, Kit.”

  “Flowery speeches? Why, Mr. Kincaid, I didn’t know you had it in you.”

  “Let me shower and change,” he murmured as he came closer, “and I’ll show you what else I’ve got.”

  “Promises, promises,” she said coquettishly.

  He smiled and turned toward the stairs. “I’ll hurry so we don’t miss the first show,” he said. “Any particular thing you want to not see? If I don’t drink beer, that is?” he added mischievously.

  She flushed to her hairline, hating the ease with which he disconcerted her. “I like science fiction,” she mumbled.

  “So do I. Okay, we’ll see that new picture at the Grand that they’re raving about.”

  * * *

  It was a chilly night, and she was glad she’d worn a sweater, but Matt turned on the heater in the big new pickup truck, and it was toasty warm. He looked nice, she thought as he pulled into a parking space at the drive-in. He was wearing new jeans with a patterned blue shirt and shiny tan boots and a cream Stetson, and he looked so sexy that her hands itched to touch him.

  He seemed to know that, and the sideways look he gave her as he reached out for the speaker said it all. She quickly averted her eyes to the screen. Previews were showing.

  He turned up the sound, and she made a pretense of listening, but all the while all she could hear was the sound of her own wild heartbeat. Why was he taking her to a movie, when he’d spent years keeping her at arm’s length? Was it because she was trying to get out from under his thumb, and this was some new way he’d thought up to keep her at Comanche Flats?

  “How about some pizza?” he asked.

  “Can I have that and coffee, too?” she asked.

  “Whatever you want, Kit,” he murmured, watching her with eyes that promised heaven.

  She blushed helplessly as she looked back at him, a pirate sitting there with his sensuous mouth smiling at her, his dark eyes mischievous, teasing.

  “Greenhorn,” he chuckled. “Are you afraid of me?”

  “I’d like that coffee,” she sidestepped.

  “Come on, then.” He slid toward her so they could get out on her side and not have to put the speaker up again.

  She got out, and he followed, taking her hand in his as they walked down the lot to the concession stand. Her fingers tingled as they locked with his big ones, and she felt very feminine and smug as they walked into the roomy snack bar. Especially when she saw other young women coveting him.

  One particular woman, a striking blonde, was really giving him the eye. And, incredibly, he ignored her.

  Catherine stared up at him uncomprehendingly as he ordered coffee and pizza.

  He glanced down and tugged her closer with an arm around her waist. “Why so puzzled, Kit?” he murmured.

  She shifted, her gaze going helplessly to the blonde, who’d given up and moved away with her date, a tall lanky youth who couldn’t hold a candle to Matt’s rough sensuality.

  Matt’s hand squeezed her waist. “Do I really strike you as the kind of man who flirts with other women when he’s out on a date?” he asked curiously.

  She stared at his broad chest. “No. I’m sorry. But she was so lovely,” she added, smiling.

  “Not half as lovely as you are. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

  “You don’t have to flatter me.”

  He studied her averted face as the waitress brought their pizza. “Later, young Kit, you’re going to eat those words. I promise.”

  Her body tingled with the threat of a revenge sweeter than her wildest dreams. She couldn’t meet his eyes as they went back to the truck.

  “Why the truck?” she asked when they were safely inside eating pizza.

  “It’s got vinyl seats,” he said with a grin. “You don’t think I’m going to eat pizza in that velour-covered dream of a Lincoln I drive on business?”

  “Silly old me,” she mumbled with a wicked smile.

  “Besides,” he added, sipping coffee to wash down the last of his pizza, “the Lincoln’s front seat is smaller than this cab.”

  She frowned up at him. “What difference does that make?”

  He lifted an eyebrow and chuckled softly. “I couldn’t stretch out in it.”

  “Oh.” She still didn’t understand, and he was laughing more uproariously by the minute.

  “It has something to do with not drinking beer…?” he prodded.

  Her face burned, but she didn’t drop her indignant eyes. “Now see here, Matthew Dane Kincaid!”

  “Well, honey, you were the one who started it,” he reminded her. He swept off his Stetson and looped it into a hat carrier above the rearview mirror. “I didn’t have a thought in my mind until you told me you wouldn’t kiss me if I drank beer. And I’ve gone dry all day in the heat, just thinking about it.”

  “I never know when to take you seriously,” she said, defeated by his wide grin.

  “Yes. I like it that way.” He slid his arm across the back of the seat and stared at her as the feature film’s opening credits flashed across the big screen. The light spilling from the screen accentuated the planes and curves of Matt’s handsome face and the odd look in his narrowed eyes. “Come here, Kit.”

  Her heart stopped as she stared back at him, her face soft and hesitant, showing just a little fear of the stranger beside her.

  “Come on,” he coaxed. “I won’t kiss you until you want me to.”

  “You’re the most dreadful tease,” she muttered to disguise the throbbing hunger of her body. She slid across the seat, stiffening a little as his arm went around her shoulders with lazy carelessness. Seconds later, when his arm remained still and warm, and the clean spicy scent of his body settled around her, she relaxed and let her cheek rest against his broad shoulder.

  She watched the screen and saw nothing. Matt’s lean, strong fingers kept brushing her neck and her cheek and her hair, and she tingled from the contact while she tried to decide if it was accidental or deliberate. Whatever it was, her pulse was going wild.

  She turned her face so that she could see his, and he looked down at her in the semidarkness. His fingers brushed the side of her neck again, then suddenly pressed lightly against the visible throb of her pulse.

  Her breath stopped. She was hungry for him, and now he knew how hungry. His other hand went under her chin and gently cupped it, and his head bent toward hers.

  She stopped breathing altogether. The people on the big screen were suddenly screaming as a creature emerged from part of a spaceship, but Catherine didn’t even hear them. All she heard was the soft sigh of Matt’s smoky breath as his mouth brushed lightly against hers.

  His fingers closed about her cheeks, parting her lips, and slowly he took them under his for the first time. Her breath caught as she felt the texture of his hard, warm mouth, the slight bristly pressure where his shaven cheek touched her skin. She savored the expert firmness of his lips as he began to deepen the kiss.

  Her hands went hesitantly to his shirtfront and stopped there as she tried to decide what to do with them.

  Matt lifted his mouth and held it poised over hers like a heady threat. “I’m not wearing an undershirt,” he whispered outrageously. “If you want to touch me, go ahead.”

  It was too much too soon, and she stiffened. He laughed softly, as if her uncertainty delighted him.

  “Virgin,” he whispered, brushing his mouth lightly against hers. “Virgin. I feel as if I’ve never made love before, never tasted a woman’s mouth or wanted her hands on me. You make it new for me, Kit.”

  “You know a lot,” she whispered as his teeth nipped her earlobe and made her pulse jump.

  “Of course I know a lot. I’m thirty-one.” His fingers slid up and down her throat caressingly. “Hold me, Kit.”

  He helped her, sliding her arms up and around his neck, bringing her close so that her breasts slid softly against his hard chest. Her blouse was thin, and there was no bra under it—sheer idiocy on her part, she knew, because his
own shirt was thin and he had to be able to feel her.

  He did. He stiffened. His hands stilled on her back and his mouth opened against her forehead.

  “My God, you’re soft,” he whispered roughly.

  She wasn’t experienced enough to handle a remark like that. She nuzzled her face into his throat and clung, while his hands slid to her rib cage and ran up and down it, his thumbs edging out to find that softness and explore it in the hot, pulsating silence.

  His breath was audible as his mouth went down on hers. He held the kiss a long moment, dragging his lips roughly against hers when she began to respond to him with shy abandon.

  “If you’ll move away a little, I can touch you,” he whispered into her mouth. “I want that. I want to take you in my hands and see just how soft you are.”

  She trembled and he felt it. His hands moved slowly to her back and smoothed up and down it in long, aching sweeps, while his mouth found her cheek and then her ear.

  “Okay,” he murmured gently, “I’ll slow down.” He drew back to look at her, his eyes soft and amused. “Just how green are you?”

  She shifted in his loose embrace. “Well…”

  “Come on.”

  Her mutinous mouth pouted as she looked up at him. “It’s your fault. Mama never would let me go out with the experienced boys, and you always took her side against me.”

  “Of course I did,” he said. “Do I look stupid?”

  “What I got left with were boys who didn’t know any more than I did,” she said, then sighed. “That is no way to get educated,” she added, glaring.

  “I’ll do the educating,” he said, and he didn’t sound as if he were teasing at all. He tilted her chin up and searched her eyes for a long time. “No experience at all?”

  “Not really,” she confessed. “A French kiss is about as intimate as it ever got, and I think I must be frigid anyway, because I hated it.”

  He smiled. He chuckled. He caught her hand when she tried to hit him.