Diana Palmer - Diana Palmer Texan Lovers

“We’d better get to work,” he said tersely, starting the Jaguar. He drove down the path, waving to the men in the vehicle behind them. He cut off at the next dirt road, and minutes later they were at the feedlot. “Go on in. I’ve got to drive over to Jacobsville and talk to our attorney for a few minutes,” he said as coolly as he could. That was a bald-faced lie, but he needed time to get hold of himself. He was as tense as a boy with his first woman, and he was losing his sense of humor. He didn’t want Justin to see him like this and start asking embarrassing questions.

“All right,” Abby said, her voice faltering.

He glanced at her with narrowed eyes. She’d give the show away all by herself if she went inside looking like that. “Nothing happened,” he said shortly. “And nothing will,” he added, his voice cold, “if you can manage to stop looking at me like a lovesick calf!”

A sob tore from her throat. Her wide, hurt eyes sought his and quickly fell away. She opened the door and got out, closing it quietly behind her. She straightened and walked toward the office without looking back.

Calhoun almost went after her. He hadn’t wanted to say that to Abby, of all people, but he was off balance and terrified of what he might do to her if she kept looking at him that way. He couldn’t make love to her, for God’s sake. She was a child. She was his ward. Even as he told himself that, a picture formed in his mind of Abby lying on the bed with her breasts bare. He groaned and jerked the car into gear, sending it flying down the road.

Abby didn’t know how she got through the day. It was impossible to act as if nothing had happened, but since Justin knew she had a hangover he didn’t question her pale complexion or her unusually quiet demeanor. And Calhoun didn’t come back to the office. That was a godsend. Abby didn’t think she could have borne seeing him after what he’d said to her.

“You need a diversion,” Justin remarked later in the day, just about quitting time. “How about a steak in Houston? I’ve got to meet a man and his wife to talk about a new lot of stocker calves, and I’d hate to go alone.”

He was smiling, and Abby warmed to his gentle affection. Justin wasn’t the cold creature most people thought him. He was just a sad, lonely man who should have married and had several children to spoil.

“I’d like that very much,” Abby said honestly. It would be nice to go out to dinner, especially if it meant she could avoid Calhoun. Of course, it was Saturday night. He wasn’t usually home on Saturday nights anyway, but it would be so much better if she didn’t have to dread seeing him.

“Good,” Justin said, rising. “We’ll get away about six.”

Abby wore a soft burgundy velour dress. It had a slightly flared knee-length skirt and bishop sleeves, and a neckline that was V-shaped and not at all suggestive. She wore black accessories with it and, because it had turned cold, her heather-colored wool cape.

“Very nice,” Justin said, smiling. He had on dark evening clothes and looked elegant and sophisticated, as he always did on the rare occasions when he dressed up.

“I could return the compliment,” Abby said. She clutched her purse, sending a restless look down the hall.

“He won’t be home,” Justin told her, intercepting her worried glance. “I gather the two of you had another falling-out?”

She sighed. “The worst yet,” she confessed, unwilling to tell him any of the details. She looked up at him. “Calhoun acts as if he hates me lately.”

Justin searched her eyes quietly. “And you don’t know why,” he mused. “Well, give it time, Abby. Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

She blinked. “I don’t understand.”

He laughed softly and took her arm. “Never mind. Let’s get going.”

Houston was big and sprawling and flat as a pancake, but it had a very special personality and Abby loved it. At night it was as colorful as Christmas, all jewel lights and excitement.

Justin took her to a small, intimate dinner club where they met the Joneses, Clara and Henry. They owned a small ranch in Montana where they raised stocker calves to supply to feedlots. They were an older couple but full of fun, and Abby liked them instantly. She and Clara talked fashion while Justin and Henry talked business. Abby was really having a good time until she glanced across the room and saw a familiar face on the cozily intimate dance floor.

Calhoun! Her eyes widened as she followed his blond head through the crowd until there was a clear space. Then she saw the ravishing blonde with him. He was holding the woman, who was at least his own age, with both hands at her waist, and she was curled up against him as if they’d been dancing together for years. They were smiling at each other like lovers.

Abby felt sick. She could almost feel herself turning green. If Calhoun had worked at it for years, he couldn’t have hurt her any worse. Coming on the heels of the insulting remark he’d made just a few hours earlier, it was a death blow. This was his kind of woman, Abby realized. Sleek, beautiful, sophisticated. This was one of his shadowy lovers. One of the women he never brought home.

“What’s wrong, Abby?’ Justin asked suddenly. But before she could answer he followed her gaze to the dance floor, and something in his dark eyes became frightening, dangerous.

“Isn’t that Calhoun?” Henry Jones grinned. “Well, well, let’s get him over here, Justin, and see what he thinks of our proposition.” Before anyone could stop him, he got up and headed for the dance floor.

“Mrs. Jones, shall we go to the powder room?” Abby asked with a pale but convincing smile.

“Certainly, dear. Excuse us, won’t you, Justin?” the white-haired woman asked politely, and started out of the restaurant ahead of Abby.

Justin unexpectedly caught Abby’s upper arm and drew her back. “Don’t panic,” he said quietly. “I’ll get you out of here as soon as I can. Do you want a drink?”

She looked up, almost in tears at his unexpected understanding. “Could I have a piña colada with just a little rum?” she asked.

“I’ll order it. Keep your chin up.”

She smiled at him softly. “Thanks, big brother,” she said gently.

He grinned. “Any time. Get going.”

She glanced away in time to catch Calhoun’s dark eyes. She nodded her head at him and turned away with no apparent haste.

Ten minutes later, she and Mrs. Jones returned to find Calhoun about to leave the table, the blonde still clinging to his arm. He looked up at Abby. His face was unreadable, but there was something in his expression that disturbed her. She wasn’t about to let it show, though. Lovesick calf, indeed. She’d show him, by gosh.

She smiled. “Hi, Calhoun!” she said easily, sliding into the chair next to Justin’s. “Isn’t this a nice place? Justin decided I needed a night on the town. Wasn’t that sweet of him?” She picked up her piña colada and took a big sip, relieved to find that it had barely enough rum to taste and even more relieved that her hand didn’t shake and betray her shattered nerves.

“She’s a big girl now,” Justin told his brother, leaning back in his chair arrogantly and daring Calhoun to say a word. His cool smile and level, cold stare had a real impact, even on his brother.

But Calhoun didn’t look any too pleased at the implication of the remark, especially when Justin slid an arm around Abby’s shoulders. In fact, Calhoun seemed almost ready to leap forward and shake his brother loose from Abby.

“I’m tired,” the blonde sighed, nuzzling her face against Calhoun’s arm. “I need some sleep. Eventually,” she teased gently, with a meaningful look at Calhoun’s rigid expression.