Diana Palmer - Diana Palmer Texan Lovers

“You need to take some aspirins before you go to work, Abby,” Justin said gently.

She managed to smile at him. “I will. I guess gin isn’t really my drink.”

“Liquor isn’t healthy,” Calhoun said shortly.

Justin’s eyebrows lifted. “Then why were you emptying my brandy bottle last night?”

Calhoun threw down his napkin. “I’m going to work.”

“You might offer Abby a lift,” Justin suggested with a strangely calculating expression.

“I’m not going directly to the feedlot,” Calhoun said. He didn’t want to be alone with Abby, not after the way he’d seen her the night before. He could hardly look at her without remembering her lying across that bed….

“I’m not through with breakfast,” Abby replied, hurt that Calhoun didn’t seem to want her company. “Besides,” she told Justin with a faint smile, “I can drive. I didn’t really have all that much to drink.”

“Sure,” Calhoun replied harshly, dark eyes blazing. “That’s why you passed out on your bed.”

Abby knew she’d stopped breathing. Justin was pouring cream into his second cup of coffee, his keen eyes on the pitcher, not on the other occupants of the room. And that was a good thing, because Abby looked up at Calhoun with sudden stark knowledge of what he’d seen the night before and had her fears confirmed by the harsh stiffening of his features.

She blushed and started, almost knocking over her cup. So she had gone to sleep on the covers. Calhoun found her with her bodice undone, he’d seen her—

“Never mind breakfast. Let’s go,” Calhoun said suddenly, his lean hand on the back of her chair. “I’ll take you to the feedlot before I do what I have to. You’re not fit to drive.”

Justin was watching now, his gaze narrow and frankly curious as it went from Abby’s red face to Calhoun’s taut expression.

That look was what decided Abby that Calhoun was the lesser of the two evils. She couldn’t tell Justin what had happened, but he’d have it out of her in two seconds if she didn’t make a run for it. Calhoun must have realized that, too.

He took her arm and almost pulled her out of the chair, propelling her out of the room with a curt goodbye to his brother.

“Will you slow down?” she moaned as he took the steps two at a time. “My legs aren’t long enough to keep up with you, and my head is splitting.”

“You need a good headache,” he muttered without a glance in her direction. “Maybe it will take some of the adventure out of your soul.”

She glared at his broad back in silence as she followed him to the Jaguar and got into the passenger seat.

He started the car and reversed it, but he didn’t go toward the feedlot. He went down the driveway, turned off onto a ranch road that wasn’t much more than a rut in the fenced pastures and cut off the engine on a small rise.

He didn’t say anything at first. He rested his lean hands on the steering wheel, studying them in silence, while Abby tried to catch her breath and summon enough nerve to talk to him.

“How dare you come into my room without knocking,” she whispered after a long minute, her voice sounding husky and choked.

“I did knock. You didn’t hear me.”

She bit her lower lip, turning her gaze to the yellowish-brown pastures around them.

“Abby, for God’s sake, don’t make such an issue out of it,” he said quietly. “Would you rather I’d left you like that? What if Justin had come to wake you, or Lopez?”

She swallowed. “Well, I guess they’d have gotten an eyeful,” she said, her voice unsteady. After a minute, her face flushed, she turned toward him and asked plaintively, “Calhoun…I wasn’t uncovered all the way, was I?”

He looked into her eyes and couldn’t quite manage to look away. She was lovely. He reached out involuntarily and touched the side of her neck, his fingers tender and exquisitely arousing.

“No,” he managed, watching the relief shadow her eyes as he told the lie with a straight face. “I buttoned you back up and tucked you in.”

She let out a hard breath. “Thank you.”

His fingers moved up to her cheek. “Abby, have you ever let a man see your breasts?” he asked unexpectedly.

She couldn’t handle a remark that intimate. She dropped her eyes and tried to catch her breath.

“Never mind, tenderfoot,” he chided softly. “I can guess.”

“You mustn’t talk like that,” she whispered.

“Why?” he mused, tilting her chin up so that her shocked eyes met his. “You’re the one trying to grow up, aren’t you? If you want me to treat you like an adult, Abby, then this is part of it.”

She shifted nervously. He made her feel so gauche it was ridiculous. She twisted her purse out of shape, afraid to meet the dark eyes that were relentlessly probing her face.

“Don’t,” she pleaded breathlessly, and her eyes closed.

“Are you really afraid of me?” he asked, his voice deeper, silkier.

He touched her mouth with a lean forefinger and she actually jumped, her eyes flashing open, all her hidden hungers and fears lying vulnerable there. And that was when his self-control fell away. She was hungry for him. Just as hungry as he was for her. Was that why she’d been so restless, because she’d become attracted to him and was trying to hide it? He had to know.

She couldn’t answer him. She felt as if he were trying to see inside her mind. “I’m not afraid of you. Can’t we go?”

“What are you trying to do?” he whispered, leaning closer, threatening her lips with his. “Block it out? Pretend that you aren’t hungry for my mouth?”

Her heart went wild at the soft question. If he didn’t stop, she was going to go in headfirst. He could be playing, and to have him tease her without meaning it would kill her. Her fingers touched his shoulder, pushed experimentally against the hard muscle under the soft fabric of his suit. They trembled there as her eyes suddenly tangled with his and her mouth echoed the faint tremor of her body.

He stared at her. It was a kind of exchange that Abby had never experienced before. A level, unblinking, intense look that curled her toes and made her heart race. Very adult, very revealing. His dark eyes held hers, and his lean fingers traced up and down her soft throat, arousing, teasing. His hard mouth moved closer to hers, hovering above it so that she could feel his warm, minty breath on her parted lips, so that she was breathing him.

“Cal…houn,” she whispered, her voice breaking on a hungry sob.

She heard his intake of air and felt his hand curl under her long hair, powerful and warm, cradling her nape to tilt her head up.

“This has been coming for a hell of a long time, baby,” he whispered as his head bent and he started to give in to the hunger that had become a fever in his blood. “I want it as much as you do….”

He leaned even closer, but just as his hard mouth started down over hers, before his lips touched her pleading ones, the sound of an approaching vehicle broke them apart like an explosion.

Calhoun felt disoriented. He looked in the rearview mirror and saw one of the ranch trucks coming up behind, but it took a moment to register. He was having trouble breathing. His body felt rigid, like drawn cord.

He glanced at Abby. She’d moved away and the realization that she was trembling brought home the total shock of what he’d been about to do. Damn it, she’d knocked him for a loop without even trying. That made him mad, and so, ironically, did the fact that she’d given in so easily. It infuriated him even more that he’d been about to kiss her. He didn’t want complications, damn it, and Abby was the biggest he’d ever faced. Was she vulnerable because she wanted him or just because she’d suddenly discovered that she was a woman and wanted to experiment?