Libby was secretly pleased, but because she was angry and hurt that he didn’t love her, she lifted her chin and snapped, “You have to have that Circle Bar B brand on everything you consider yours, don’t you?”
“You are not a thing, Libby,” he replied rationally, “but I want at least that much of a commitment. Call it male ego if you must, but I want my wife to be Mrs. Barlowe.”
Libby swallowed. “Fair enough,” she said.
Jess sat back on the sofa, folded his arms again. “I’m waiting,” he said, and the mischievous glint was back in his eyes.
“For what?”
“An answer to my original question.”
Fool, fool! Don’t you ever learn, Libby Kincaid? Don’t you ever learn? Libby quieted the voice in her mind and lifted her chin. Life was short, and unpredictable in the bargain. Maybe Jess would learn to love her the way she loved him. Wasn’t that kind of happiness worth a risk?
“I’ll marry you,” she said.
Jess kissed her with an exuberance that soon turned to desire.
Jess frowned at the sleek showroom sports car, his tongue making one cheek protrude. “What do you think?” he asked.
Libby assessed the car again. “It isn’t you.”
He grinned, ignoring the salesman’s quiet disappointment. “You’re right.”
Neither, of course, had the last ten cars they had looked at been “him.” The sports cars seemed to cramp his long legs, while the big luxury vehicles were too showy.
“How about another truck?” Libby suggested.
“Do you know how many trucks there already are on the ranch?” he countered. “Besides, some yokel would probably paint on the family logo when I wasn’t looking.”
Libby deliberately widened her eyes. “That would be truly terrible!”
He made a face at her, but when he spoke, his words were delivered in a touchingly serious way. “We could get a van and fill the seats with kids and dogs.”
Libby smiled at the image. “A grungy sort of heaven,” she mused.
Jess laughed. “And of course there would be lots of room to make love.”
The salesman cleared his throat and discreetly walked away.
Chapter 9
“I think you shocked that salesman,” observed Libby, snapping the seat belt into place as Jess settled behind the wheel of their rental car.
Jess shrugged. “By wanting a van?” he teased.
“By wanting me in the van,” clarified Libby.
Jess turned the key in the ignition and shifted gears. “He’s lucky I didn’t list all the other places I’d like to have you. The hood, for instance. And then there’s the roof….”
Libby colored richly as they pulled into the slow traffic. “Jess!”
He frowned speculatively. “And, of course, on the ladder at the condo.”
“The ladder?”
Jess flung her a brazen grin. “Yeah. About halfway up.”
“Don’t you think about anything but sex?”
“I seem to have developed a fixation, Kincaid—just since you came back, of course.”
She couldn’t help smiling. “Of course.”
Nothing more was said until they’d driven through the quiet, well-kept streets to the courthouse. Jess parked the car and turned to Libby with a comical leer. “Are you up to a blood test and a little small-town bureaucracy, Kincaid?”
Libby felt a wild, twisting thrill in the pit of her stomach. A marriage license. He wanted to get a marriage license. In three short days, she could be bound to Jess Barlowe for life. At least, she hoped it would be for life.
After drawing a deep breath, Libby unsnapped her seat belt and got out of the car.
Twenty minutes later, the ordeal was over. The fact that the wedding itself wouldn’t take nearly as long struck Libby as an irony.
On the sidewalk, Jess caught her elbow in one hand and helped her back into the car. While he must have noticed that she was preoccupied, he was chivalrous enough not to say so.
“Stop at that supermarket!” Libby blurted when they’d been driving for some minutes.
Jess gave her a quizzical look. “Supermarket?”
“Yes. They sell food there, among other necessary items.”
Jess frowned. “Why can’t we just eat in restaurants? There are several good ones—”
“Restaurants?” Libby cried with mock disdain. “How can I prove what a great catch I am if I don’t cook something for you?”
Jess’s right hand left the steering wheel to slide languorously up and down Libby’s linen-skirted thigh. “Relax, sweetheart,” he said in a rather good imitation of Humphrey Bogart. “I already know you’re good in the kitchen.”
The obvious reference to last night’s episode in that room unsettled Libby. “You delight in saying outrageous things, don’t you?” she snapped.
“I delight in doing outrageous things.”
“You’ll get no argument on that score, fella,” she retorted acidly.
The car came to a stop in front of the supermarket, which was in the center of a small shopping mall. Libby noticed that Jess’s gaze strayed to a jewelry store down the way.
“I’ll meet you inside,” he said, and then he was gone.
Though Libby told herself that she was being silly and sentimental, she was pleased to think that Jess might be shopping for a ring.
The giddy, romantic feeling faded when she selected a shopping cart inside the supermarket, however. She was wallowing in gushy dreams, behaving like a seventeen-year-old virgin. Of course Jess would buy a ring, but only because it would be expected of him.
Glumly Libby went about selecting items from a mental grocery list she had been composing since she’d checked the refrigerator and cupboards at the condominium and found them all but empty.
Taking refuge in practical matters, she frowned at a display of cabbage and wondered how much food to buy. Jess hadn’t said how long they would be staying in Kalispell, beyond the time it would take to find the car he wanted.
Shrugging slightly, Libby decided to buy provisions for three days. Because that was the required waiting period for a marriage license, they would probably be in town at least that long.
She looked down at her slacks and brightly colored top. The wedding ceremony was going to be an informal one, obviously, but she would still need a new dress, and she wanted to buy a wedding band for Jess, too.
She pushed her cart along the produce aisle, woodenly selecting bean sprouts, fresh broccoli, onions. Her first wedding had been a quiet one, too, devoid of lace and flowers and music, and something within her mourned those things.
They hadn’t even discussed a honeymoon, and what kind of ceremony would this be, without Ken, without Cathy, without Senator Barlowe and Marion Bradshaw, the housekeeper?
A box seemed to float up out of the cart, but Libby soon saw that it was clasped in a strong sun-browned hand.
“I hate cereals that crunch,” Jess said, and his eyes seemed to be looking inside Libby, seeing the dull ache she would rather have kept hidden. “What’s wrong, love?”
Libby fought back the sudden silly tears that ached in her throat and throbbed behind her eyes. “Nothing,” she lied.
Jess was not fooled. “You want Ken to come to the wedding,” he guessed.
Libby lowered her head slightly. “He was hurt when Aaron and I got married without even telling him first,” she said.
There was a short silence before a housewife, tagged by two preschoolers, gave Libby’s cart a surreptitious bump with her own, tacitly demanding access to the cereal display. Libby wrestled her groceries out of the way and looked up at Jess, waiting for his response.
He smiled, touched her cheek. “Tell you what. We’ll call the ranch and let everybody know we’re getting married. That way, if they want to be there, they can. And if you want frills and flash, princess, we can have a formal wedding later.”
The idea of a second wedding, complete with the trimmings, appe
aled to Libby’s romantic soul. She smiled at the thought. “You would do that? You would go through it all over again, just for show?”
“Not for show, princess. For you.”
The housewife made an appreciative sound and Libby started a little, having completely forgotten their surroundings.
Jess laughed and the subject was dropped. They walked up one aisle and down another, dropping the occasional pertinent item into the cart, arguing good-naturedly about who would do the cooking after they were married.
The telephone was ringing as Libby unlocked the front door of the condo, so she left Jess to carry in their bags of groceries and ran to answer it, expecting to hear Ken’s voice, or Marion Bradshaw’s, relaying some message from Cathy.
A cruel wave of déjà vu washed over her when she heard Aaron’s smooth, confident greeting. “Hello, Libby.”
“What do you want?” Libby rasped, too stunned to hang up. How on earth had he gotten that number?
“I told you before, dear heart,” said Aaron smoothly. “I want a child.”
Libby was conscious of Jess standing at her elbow, the shopping bags clasped in his arms. “You’re insane!” she cried into the receiver.
“Maybe so, but not insane enough to let my grandmother hand over an empire to someone else. She has doubts, you know, about my dependability.”
“I wonder why!”
“Don’t be sarcastic, sugarplum. My request isn’t really all that unreasonable, considering all I stand to lose.”
“It is unreasonable, Aaron! In fact, it’s sick!” At this point Libby slammed down the receiver with a vengeance. She was trembling so hard that Jess hastily shunted the grocery bags onto a side table and took her into his arms.
“What was that all about?” he asked when Libby had recovered herself a little.
“He’s horrible,” Libby answered, distracted and very much afraid. “Oh, Jess, he’s a monster—”
“What did he say?” Jess pressed quietly.
“Aaron wants me to have his baby! Jess, he actually had the gall to ask me to come back, just so he can produce an heir and please his grandmother!”
Jess’s hand was entangled in her hair now, comforting her. “It’s all right, Lib. Everything will be all right.”
Then why am I so damned scared? Libby asked herself, but she put on a brave face for Jess and even managed a smile. “Let’s call my dad,” she said.
Jess nodded, kissed her forehead. And then he took up the grocery bags again and carried them into the kitchen while Libby dialed her father’s telephone number.
There was no answer, which was not surprising, considering that it was still early. Ken would be working, and because of the wide range of his responsibilities, he could be anywhere on the 150,000 acres that made up the Circle Bar B.
Sounds from the kitchen indicated that Jess was putting the food away, and Libby wandered in, needing to be near him.
“No answer?” he asked, tossing a package of frozen egg rolls into the freezer.
“No answer,” confirmed Libby. “I should have known, I guess.”
Jess turned, gave her a gentle grin. “You did know, Libby. But you needed to touch base just then, and going through the motions was better than nothing.”
“When did you get so smart?”
“Last Tuesday, I think,” he answered ponderously. “Know something? You look a little tired. Why don’t you climb up that ladder that bugs you so much and take a nap?”
Libby arched one eyebrow. “While you do what?”
His answer was somewhat disappointing. “While I go back to town for a few hours,” he said. “I have some things to do.”
“Like what?”
He grinned. “Like picking up some travel brochures, so we can decide where to take our honeymoon.”
Libby felt a rush of pleasure despite the weariness she was suddenly very aware of. Had it been there all along, or was she tired simply because this subtle hypnotist had suggested it to her? “Does it matter where we honeymoon?”
“Not really,” Jess replied, coming disturbingly close, kissing Libby’s forehead. “But I like having you all to myself. I can’t help thinking that the farther we get from home right now, the better off we’re going to be.”
A tremor of fear brushed against Libby’s heart, but it was quickly stilled when Jess caught her right earlobe between gentle teeth and then told her in bluntly erotic terms what he had wanted to do to her on the supermarket checkout counter.
When he’d finished, Libby was wildly aroused and, at the same time, resigned to the fact that when she crawled into that sun-washed bed up in the loft, she would be alone. “Rat,” she said.
Jess swatted her backside playfully. “Later,” he promised, and then calmly left the condo to attend to his errands.
Libby went obediently up to the bedroom, using the stairs rather than the ladder, and yawned as she stripped down to her lacy camisole and panties. She shouldn’t be having a nap now, she told herself, when she had things of her own to do—choosing Jess’s ring, for one thing, and buying a special dress, for another….
She was asleep only seconds after slipping beneath the covers.
Libby stirred, indulged in a deliciously lazy stretch. Someone was trailing soft, warm kisses across her collarbone—or was she dreaming? Just in case she was, she did not open her eyes.
Cool air washed over her breasts as the camisole was gently displaced. “Ummm,” she said.
“Good dream?” asked Jess, moistening one pulsing nipple to crisp attention with his tongue.
“Oooooh,” answered Libby, arching her back slightly, her eyes still closed, her head pressed into the silken pillow in eager, soft surrender. “Very good.”
Jess left that nipple to subject its twin to a tender plundering that caused Libby to moan with delight. Her hips writhed slightly, calling to their powerful counterpart.
Jess heard their silent plea, slid the satiny panties down, down, away. “You’re so warm, Libby,” he said in a ragged whisper. “So soft and delicious.” The camisole was unlaced, laid aside reverently, like the wrapping on some splendid gift. Kisses rained down on Libby’s sleep-warmed, swollen breasts, her stomach, her thighs.
At last she opened her eyes, saw Jess’s wondrous nakedness through a haze of sweet, sleepy need. As he ventured nearer and nearer to the silk-sheltered sanction of her womanhood, she instinctively reached up to clasp the brass railings on the headboard of the bed, anchoring herself to earth.
Jess parted the soft veil, admired its secret with a throaty exclamation of desire and a searing kiss.
A plea was wrenched from Libby, and she tightened her grasp on the headboard.
For a few mind-sundering minutes Jess enjoyed the swelling morsel with his tongue. “More?” he asked, teasing her, knowing that she was already half-mad with the need of him.
“More,” she whimpered as his fingers strayed to the pebblelike peaks of her breasts, plying them, sending an exquisite lacelike net of passion knitting its way through her body.
Another tormenting flick of his tongue. “Sweet,” he said. And then he lifted Libby’s legs, placing one over each of his shoulders, making her totally, beautifully vulnerable to him.
She cried out in senseless delirium as he took his pleasure, and she was certain that she would have been flung beyond the dark sky if not for her desperate grasp on the headboard.
Even after the highest peak had been scaled, Libby’s sated body convulsed again and again, caught in the throes of other, smaller releases.
Still dazed, Libby felt Jess’s length stretch out upon her, seeking that sweetest and most intimate solace. In a burst of tender rebellion, she thrust him off and demanded loving revenge.
Soon enough, it was Jess who grasped the gleaming brass railings lest he soar away, Jess who chanted a desperate litany.
Wickedly, Libby took her time, savoring him, taking outrageous liberties with him. Finally she conquered him, and his cry of joyous surrender
filled her with love almost beyond bearing.
His breathing still ragged, his face full of wonder, Jess drew Libby down, so that she lay beside him. With his hands he explored her, igniting tiny silver fires in every curve and hollow of her body.
This time, when he came to her, she welcomed him with a ferocious thrust of her hips, alternately setting the pace and following Jess’s lead. When the pinnacle was reached, each was lost in the echoing, triumphant cry of the other, and bits of a broken rainbow showered down around them.
Sitting cross-legged on the living-room sofa, Libby twisted the telephone cord between her fingers and waited for her father’s response to her announcement.
It was a soft chuckle.
“You aren’t the least bit surprised!” Libby accused, marveling.
“I figured anybody that fought and jawed as much as you two did had to end up hitched,” replied Ken Kincaid in his colorful way. “Did you let Cleave know yet?”
“Jess will, in a few minutes. Will you tell Cathy for me, please?”
Ken promised that he would.
Libby swallowed hard, gave Jess a warning glare as he moved to slide an exploring hand inside the top of her bathrobe. “Aren’t you going to say that we’re rushing into this or something like that? Some people will think it’s too soon—”
“It was damned near too late,” quipped Ken. “What time is the ceremony again?”
There were tears in Libby’s eyes, though she had never been happier. “Two o’clock on Friday, at the courthouse.”
“I’ll be there, dumplin’. Be happy.”
The whole room was distorted into a joyous blur. “I will, Dad. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” he answered with an ease that was typical of him. “Take care and I’ll see you Friday.”
“Right,” said Libby, sniffling as she gently replaced the receiver.
Jess chuckled, touched her chin. “Tears? I’m insulted.”
Libby made a face and shoved the telephone into his lap. “Call your father,” she said.
Jess settled back in the sofa as he dialed the number of the senator’s house in Washington, balancing the telephone on one blue-jeaned knee. While he tried to talk to his father in normal tones, Libby ran impudent fingertips over his bare chest, twining dark hair into tight curls, making hard buttons of deliciously vulnerable nipples.
Part of the Bargain Page 13
