Diana Palmer - Christmas On The Range

She reached up and touched his face. “Okay, go slug it out with the progressives, if you must. I’ll treat Ivy to the new Imax movie about Mars.”

“Mars?”

“She loves Mars,” Merrie told him.

“I’d love to send her there,” he replied thoughtfully. “We could strap her to a rocket...”

“Stop that. She’s my best friend.”

He shook his head. “The things I do for you,” he protested. “Okay, I’ll settle for sending her to the moon.”

“She’s only just lost her father, her house and she’ll soon lose her inheritance as well,” she said solemnly. “I could strangle Rachel for what she’s done.”

He could have strangled Rachel himself, for the lies she’d fed him about Ivy. He should have known better. She’d never been forward with men, to his knowledge. He was certain now that she wasn’t. But he wondered why Rachel would make a point of downgrading her to him. Perhaps it was as Ivy said—her sister wanted him to stay out of the probate of her father’s will. Poor Ivy. She’d never get a penny if Rachel had her way.

“You look very somber,” Merrie observed.

“Ivy should have had the house, at least,” he said, betraying the line of his thoughts.

“She couldn’t have lived there, even if she’d inherited it,” she told him. “There’s no money for utilities or upkeep. She can barely keep herself in school and pay her rent.”

His eyes narrowed. “We could pay it for her.”

“I tried,” Merrie replied. “Ivy’s proud. She won’t accept what she thinks of as charity.”

“So she works nights and weekends to supplement that pitiful amount of money her aunt left her,” he grumbled. “At least one of those mechanics she keeps books for is married and loves to run around with young women.”

“He did ask Ivy out,” Merrie replied.

He looked even angrier. “And?”

“She accidentally dropped a hammer on his foot,” Merrie chuckled. “He limped for a week, but he never asked Ivy out again. The other men had a lot of fun at his expense.”

He felt a reluctant admiration for their houseguest. If she’d been older, his interest might have taken a different form. But he had to remember her age.

“Rachel called her today harping about the probate,” she said slowly. “I expect that’s why she had the migraine. Rachel worries her to death.”

“She needs to learn to stand up to her sister.”

“Ivy isn’t like that. She loves Rachel, in spite of the way she’s been treated by her. She doesn’t have any other relatives left. It must be lonely for her.”

“She’ll toughen up. She’ll have to.” He stretched. “I’m going to bed. I probably won’t see you before I leave. I’ll be back sometime Monday. You can reach me on my cell phone if anything important comes up.”

“Chayce handles the ranch very well. I expect we’ll cope,” she said, smiling. “Have fun.”

“In between fistfights, I might,” he teased. “See you.”

“See you.”

He went back to his room and closed the door. He had to put Ivy out of his mind and never let history repeat itself. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to have himself photographed with some pretty socialite. He didn’t like publicity, but he couldn’t take the chance that Ivy might warm up to him.

He recalled reluctantly the dossier a private detective had assembled on Ivy’s father. The man had been a closet alcoholic and abusive to his late wife as well as Ivy, although he’d never touched Rachel. He’d wanted to know why Ivy had backed away from him once when he’d been yelling at one of the cowboys. He was never going to tell her what he’d learned. But he was careful not to yell when she was nearby. Still, he told himself, he had to discourage her from seeing him as her future. It would be a kindness to kill this attraction before it had a chance to bloom. She was years too young for him.

The rest of the weekend passed without incident. The two women worked on Merrie’s anatomy exam. They watched movies and shared their dreams of the future. On Monday morning, Merrie dropped Ivy off at the local college on her way to San Antonio.

“I’ll phone you the next time I have a free weekend,” Merrie promised as they parted. “Don’t let Rachel make you crazy, okay?”

“I’ll try,” Ivy said, smiling. “It was a lovely weekend. Thanks.”

“I had fun, too. We’ll do it again. See you!”

“See you!”

* * *

Ivy spent the week daydreaming about what had happened in the guest room at Merrie’s house. The more she relived the torrid interlude with Stuart, the more she realized how big a part of her life he was. Over the years she’d been friends with Merrie, Stuart had always been close, but in the background. Because of the age difference, he didn’t really hang out in the places that Merrie and Ivy frequented. He was already a mature man while they were getting through high school.

But now, with those hard, insistent kisses, everything between them had changed. Ivy had dreams about him now; embarrassing, feverishly hot dreams of a future that refused to go away. Surely he had to feel something for her, even if it was only desire. He’d wanted her. And she’d wanted him just as much. It was a milestone in her young life.

But toward the end of the week, as she waited in line at the grocery store to pay for her meager purchases, she happened to look at one of the more lurid tabloids. And there was Stuart, with a beautiful, poised young woman plastered against his side, looking up at him adoringly. The caption read, Millionaire Texas Cattleman Donates Land to Historical Trust. Apparently the woman in the photo was the daughter of a prominent businessman who was head of the trust in question. She was a graduate of an equally prominent college back east. The article went on to say that there was talk of a merger between the millionaire and the socialite, but both said the rumors were premature.

Ivy’s heart shattered like ice. Apparently Stuart hadn’t been as overwhelmed by her as she had been by him, and he was making it known publicly. She had no illusions that the story was an accident. Stuart knew people in every walk of life, and he numbered publishers among his circle of friends. He wanted Ivy to know that he hadn’t taken her seriously. He’d chosen a public and humiliating way to do it, to make sure she got the point. And she did.

Merrie called her to ask if she’d seen the story.

“Oh, yes,” Ivy replied, her tone subdued.

“I don’t understand why he’d let himself be used like that,” Merrie muttered irritably. It was obvious that she knew nothing of what had happened between her brother and her best friend, or she’d have said so. She never pulled her punches.

“Even the most reclusive person can fall victim to a determined reporter,” Ivy said in his defense. “Maybe the photographer caught him at a weak moment.”

“Maybe he’s giving a public cold shoulder to some woman who’s pursuing him, too,” Merrie said innocently. “It would be like him. But there hasn’t been anybody in his life lately. Nobody regular, I mean. I’m sure he takes women out. He just doesn’t get serious about any of them.”

“How did you do on your exam?” Ivy asked, deliberately changing the subject.

“Actually, I passed with flying colors, thanks to you.”

“You’re welcome,” came the pert reply. “You can do the same for me when I have my finals.”

“That won’t be for a while yet. Coming over next weekend?”

Ivy thought quickly. “Merrie, I promised my roommate that I’d drive up to Dallas with her to see her mother. She doesn’t like to make that drive alone.” It wasn’t the whole truth. Lita had asked her to go, and Ivy had promised to think about it. Now, she was sure that she’d agree.