Forever Yours

by Francis Ray

  “It won’t happen again,” she said, careful to keep her gaze averted from his face.

  “Want to test your theory?”

  His voice stroked her. Victoria breathed in sharply. It was a mistake. The scent of his cologne, spicy clean and compellingly sensual, invaded her nostrils. The imprint of his hand lingered on her waist, on her breast. Helplessly, she turned toward him.

  “Do you?” he asked.

  She was caught between his voice and his eyes, one minute soothing, the next crackling like leashed lightning. “I-I don’t want this.”

  “Your mind may not know what you want, but your body does,” he tossed out. Picking up his hat, he rammed it back on his head.

  The truth of his words jolted her. “Now who has an ego problem? I know perfectly well what I want—A man who keeps his hands to himself and who does what he’s told.” Getting out of the truck, she took particular pleasure in slamming the door.

  Victoria stalked back into the house and slammed the front door as well. “Who the hell does he think he is?”

  “Your future husband,” Bonnie said, her laughter echoing around the high ceiling of the foyer as she unrepentingly turned from spying through the window.

  Victoria’s glare only made her best friend laugh harder. “Your cousin is the most antagonistic man I have ever met. If there was the slightest hope of finding someone else, I’d tell him to go . . . go jump off a mountain.”

  “You’re just upset because Kane is the only man who hasn’t backed down from you.”

  “Whose side are you on, anyway?”

  Bonnie held up her hands as she walked back into the den. “From now on, I’m staying impartial. This is one time I think Cupid could end up getting an arrow in the back.”

  Chapter 3

  Clothes, from beaded and sequined evening dresses to functional day wear in silk and linen and cotton, in various lengths and colors, littered Victoria’s king-sized bed. Standing before her mirror, she eyed her red jacket with its matching slim skirt and white shawl blouse, then nodded her head in approval.

  The well-cut suit clearly stated the evening was to be a business meeting, not a social one. No more senseless kissing. The word “senseless” caused her to gnash her teeth.

  She had been emotionally upset the previous evening. Kane had caught her off guard. This time, however, she planned on keeping the upper hand. Swallowing her pride and asking for his phone number from Bonnie had been bad enough. Then she had had to call twice before Kane had time to talk with her. All he said then was “I’ll be there” and hung up.

  “If I didn’t need you, Kane Taggart, I’d boil you in oil,” she said as she applied her lipstick.

  Hearing the doorbell, she picked up her red handbag, draped the gold chain strap over her shoulder, and headed for the door. There was no reason to sit and chat. The sooner they left, the sooner she’d know Kane’s price. She had found that most men had one.

  Taking a deep breath, she opened the door. Her mouth dropped open. Kane, arms folded, leaned casually against the doorjamb as if he had expected her to keep him waiting. He wore a smile on his face as easily as he wore a western-cut gray suit. His gray-and-wine colored tie was silk.

  His black eyes captured the reflection of the hall lights and twinkled. “Are you always going to do that when we meet?”

  Heat flooding her cheeks, Victoria snapped her mouth shut. A man with eyes that compelling should have to wear dark sunglasses. “You look different.”

  “You don’t,” he said, his gaze leisurely running from her black hair in a loose coronet atop her head to her red pumps. “Ready?”

  “Yes.” Resisting the urge to slam the door again, Victoria stepped into the hallway. She wasn’t vain, but he could have said something about the way she looked after all the time she spent selecting the right outfit. No sooner had the thought materialized than she quickly chastised herself. She didn’t care one way or the other what Kane thought about her.

  Kane leaned over to test the lock, and for a charged moment Victoria was trapped between him and the door. Her heart rate surged. He smelled of spice and man and danger.

  Righting himself, he placed a hand beneath her elbow and started toward the elevator. “Are you always ready for your dates?”

  “This isn’t a date. It’s a business meeting.”

  “Is that the reason for the suit?” He punched the elevator button, then gave her another leisurely inspection. “That red outfit is sending out mixed messages, or is that what you intended?”

  “Mr. Taggart—”

  “I thought we dispensed with the formalities yesterday.”

  “What we shared yesterday was a way of releasing tension. Nothing more,” Victoria said tightly.

  His index finger slid up and down the shoulder strap of her purse. “I didn’t mean the kiss. I meant the reason for our meeting.”

  “Oh.”

  Kane smiled and Victoria thought again of boiling oil.

  The elevator doors slid open. Bristling, she stepped inside. The man infuriated her. Mixed messages indeed. She didn’t want anything beyond a signature from him. Strumming her finger and thumb up and down her purse strap, it took her a few moments to realize she was stroking the exact place he had touched. She jerked her hand away.

  Kane leaned against the paneled elevator wall and tried hard to keep the grin off his face. Never in a million years would he have thought he could make Victoria’s body sing for him. Sure, he had dreamed; hell, he had even fantasized, but he never really thought it was possible until he had become angry enough to kiss her. He still couldn’t believe she had turned to fire and need in his arms.

  The night of the storm he had sat in a hallway with Bonnie on one side and Victoria on the other as torrential rain, golfball-size hail, and sixty-mile-an-hour winds beat against his uncle’s house. Each time thunder shook the house, Tory burrowed closer to him. Yet despite her own fear, she kept trying to reassure Bonnie. She’d touched him with her compassion.

  Bonnie had gone to sleep, but Victoria stayed awake most of the night and they had talked. He learned she was unpretentious and oddly unsure of herself. The lack of confidence in someone so beautiful and wealthy was surprising. He found himself trying to reassure her and holding her just a little bit closer. He had never felt so strong or so helpless as he did that night.

  Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw two young women on the elevator whispering and pointing at him. Experience had taught him they were either discussing the best way to come on to him or marveling over his size. He had been born big and grew to a formidable height. Trying out for sports in junior high proved disastrous. He kept tripping over his size-thirteen feet.

  It had taken him and his body a long time to come to an understanding. By the time he reached the tenth grade he accepted he wasn’t going to wake up one morning and be a cover model unless it was for cigarettes. For whatever reason, all the classically good looks had gone to his younger brother, Matt.

  Matt was the pretty boy. Yet they were as close as two brothers could be. That was one reason Kane hated to see Matt so cynical about women in particular and life in general, hated to hear people call him Hard Case.

  His brother had two categories for women, the ones you slept with and the ones you called friend. So far, no woman had been able to be both. That didn’t stop them from trying. Victoria probably would have gone weak-kneed over Matt, like every other woman. But Kane wasn’t giving her the chance to meet Matt until after the wedding.

  Kane looked at Victoria again. She was glaring at the two women. He grinned. Imagine, Victoria being protective of him. Apparently she hadn’t seen the wink the younger woman had sent him. No matter how Victoria acted, she was a caring woman. And she was going to be his woman. If she agreed to his one condition.

  “What brought you to Fort Worth, Kane?” Victoria asked mildly.

  A black brow arched, then he said, “My horse.”

  “You rode a horse here?”

&nb
sp; He laughed at the incredulous expression on her beautiful light brown face. “I drove a truck. Devil Dancer came in the trailer. He’s entered in the calf-roping competition at the National Black Rodeo at the Forth Worth Coliseum.”

  Astonishment touched her face. “You’re a rodeo performer?”

  His smile vanished. “You have something against rodeo performers?”

  “N-no, of course not. I just assumed . . .”

  Kane straightened, giving her his full attention. “Assumed what?”

  Victoria glanced around the elevator before she answered. “I just assumed the cowboy regalia wasn’t real.”

  “Does it bother you knowing it is?”

  She beamed. “Oh, no. I’m quite pleased, in fact. Don’t some rodeo people follow the circuit year round?”

  “Yes, they do,” Kane clipped out and watched as Victoria’s smile broadened.

  The elevator door opened, and people shifted to make room for an oncoming passenger. Something poked Victoria in the side. Frowning, she turned around and looked straight into Mildred Booth’s face. Seventy, the old woman swore she was fifty, and was the worst gossip in town. Three years earlier, when the older woman had moved into the apartments, Victoria had seriously considered moving out. Now she wished she had. Unconsciously, she glanced at Kane.

  Leaning over, Mildred whispered, “Big and mean looking isn’t he? I don’t blame you for staring.”

  Afraid that he might have heard Mildred, Victoria’s mouth tightened. “That remark was uncalled for, and I wasn’t staring.”

  Mildred waved Victoria’s words aside with a wrinkled hand weighted down with rings on every finger. “High-strung, just like your grandmother. I do hope you’re both coming to my party this weekend at the country club.” Her voice dropped to a hushed whisper. “Everyone on the ‘A’ list will be there, including Harold.”

  “I have plans,” Victoria said, staring straight ahead. Harold was Mildred’s spoiled nephew, who thought he could buy anything, including a woman.

  “My dear, surely you must be jesting,” Mildred said, genuine astonishment on her sagging face, layered with powder and rouge. “Harold is one of the most sought-after men in the state.”

  “Then he shouldn’t miss my not being there.”

  The elevator door glided open on the lobby floor. Passing by Victoria, Kane leaned over and whispered in her ear, “I’ll meet you outside.” Then he merged with the other passengers.

  “Victoria, are you listening to me?”

  Irritation flashed through Victoria; to think that she had to ignore Kane because of a gossipy woman like Mildred! “Sorry, I can’t come to the party. I do my laundry on Saturdays.” She brushed past the openmouthed matron. Victoria’s steps quickened as she saw Kane go outside through the revolving glass doors.

  Standing on the sidewalk, she quickly scanned the cars lined up in the circular driveway of her high-rise apartment. No truck and no Kane. Feeling foolish and a little put out, she started toward the park across the street. Occasionally, she parked there if all the spaces in front of the building were taken and she didn’t have time to park underground.

  One of the reasons she moved to the apartment was beautiful Turtle Park. People from all over came to see the five-foot-tall red and white azaleas in bloom, picnic on the lush green grass, or simply watch the ducks meander in and out of the winding stream. At night the park was almost deserted, although lights lit the walkway and shone down from the towering oak trees.

  Two trucks were parallel parked in front of the park. One was dented and mud-splattered. The other one was clean. They were both black. Each had a trailer hitch. She bit her lower lip. Yesterday, she really hadn’t paid much attention to Kane’s truck. All she remembered was that it had been big and black and muddy. Unfortunately, vehicles of the same body style all looked alike to her.

  Straightening her shoulders, she started toward the mud-splattered truck. She wasn’t afraid of a little dirt or of Kane Taggart, for that matter.

  Crossing the street, her heels clicking on the pavement, she went around to the passenger side of the truck and grabbed the handle. The loud, vibrating sound of an alarm blared from the truck’s interior. Snatching her hand away, she staggered back.

  “Hey, you! Get away from my truck!”

  Victoria spun toward the rough voice. Two burly, unshaven men ran out of the park’s darkness and into the revealing light. A frisson of fear shot through her. One of them pulled something out of his front pocket and pointed toward the truck. The grating noise stopped. The men, in dirt-smeared jeans, tattered shirts and steel-toed boots, closed in hemming her in between them and the truck.

  “Hey, looks like we got lucky,” said the one who had shut off the alarm. Rubbing his protruding stomach, he took a swig of beer from a can in his beefy hand. The two men traded laughs and elbow jabs.

  Although both men towered over her, Victoria forced herself to relax. “I made a mistake. I thought this was my date’s truck.”

  They jeered and hooted louder. “I heard you uptown babes like to go slumming. Don’t chicken out. Me and Sam deserve something soft and nice after working on the high-rise all day.”

  She averted her head from grimy, questing fingers. “That may be; however, it won’t be me. Now please step aside and let me pass.”

  The man who had spoken moved closer. Stale beer and body sweat assaulted her nostrils. “What if we don’t wanna?”

  “Then I’d say you’re making a big mistake.”

  The coldness of the voice caused Victoria and the two men to whirl in unison toward the sound. Kane stood by the back of the truck. “Come here, Tory. They’ll let you pass.”

  Although his stance was casual, there was something menacing and lethal in Kane’s glittering black eyes. The men slowly and carefully backed away as if they were afraid any sudden move might make Kane’s implied threat a reality.

  Trying to mask her relief, Victoria went to Kane. His eyes never left the two men as he placed a possessive arm around her slim waist. Unable to help herself, she leaned into his comforting warmth.

  “Apologize to the lady, then be on your way,” Kane ordered with icy anger.

  “You can’t—” started the one who had done all the talking. Kane took his arm from Victoria’s waist.

  The man held up his hands and stepped back. “Hey, man. I didn’t mean no harm to your woman. Sorry, lady.”

  “I could almost believe you meant it. If I see you bothering another woman, I won’t ask for an apology, because when I’m through with you you won’t be able to give one,” Kane promised with controlled rage. The man’s eyes widened in fear.

  Kane inclined his head toward the truck. “Get out of here and remember what I said.”

  The man scrambled around the front end of the truck and jumped inside. His buddy followed. Tires shrieked as the truck left the curb.

  Kane didn’t speak until the taillights disappeared around the corner. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Do you mind telling me what you were doing bothering that man’s truck?” he asked, leading her back across the street.

  “I wasn’t bothering his truck. Well, I was, but I thought it was your truck,” she told him.

  “That banged-up thing looks nothing like my truck,” he said, stopping beside a gray Mercedes sedan.

  “It did to me.” At his disbelieving look she continued, “Automobiles of the same style look alike to me. The only way I can tell my car is by the license plate or the stuff inside. You’d be surprised how many red cars there are. I always have to write down where I park.” She wrinkled her nose. “The security guards at the area malls know me by name. A couple of them let me park in restricted areas. They say it’s easier that way.”

  Kane looked at her for a long moment, then burst out laughing. Victoria punched him on the shoulder. He laughed harder. His laugh was worth the last few anxious minutes, she thought. She liked the deep, rumbling sound of it.r />
  Finally, he straightened, forcing himself to stop chuckling. “Does this car look familiar?”

  She glanced at the gray car. “It’s the same color as Bonnie’s, only it’s cleaner inside. Is this her car?”

  “Not many rodeo performers could earn enough money to own a car like this,” Kane said and opened the door.

  She started to remind him that if he agreed to marry her, the money she’d pay him would be a nice down payment on a luxury car, then decided to wait until after dinner. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier we were going in Bonnie’s car?” she asked, getting inside and fastening her seat belt.

  Kane waited until he pulled away from the curb before answering. “From what you said, you could have just as easily mistaken another car for it.”

  “I wouldn’t have made that mistake if you would have waited for me,” she said accusingly.

  Accelerating, he took the entrance to the expressway. “I thought you might not want your friend to know that we were together.”

  “Mildred Booth is no friend of mine.”

  “Does the same go for Harold?”

  With a feeling of dread, she asked, “Did you hear what Mildred said?”

  “With these ears, there isn’t much that I miss,” Kane said, his voice flat.

  Replaying the conversation in her mind, Victoria felt a strange need to touch Kane and reassure him. Knowing he might get the wrong idea, she tried to explain. “Mildred is tolerated only because her late husband was a noted civil rights activist before his death three years ago. She is an unkind woman who still wants to be the center of attention, and she doesn’t care who she hurts in the process.”

  “You haven’t answered my question about Harold.”

  “Harold is her nephew and almost as bad.”

  Kane sent her a quick glance as he exited the freeway. “Don’t you know any good men?”

  “No,” came her quick reply. She refused to think that that might be her own fault, as Bonnie had pointed out.

  “I guess that means I won’t have to worry about some man trying to stop our wedding,” he said easily.