Diana Palmer - Diana Palmer Texan Lovers

Abby lifted her chin, looking straight at him. “Enjoy yourself, big brother,” she said with forced gaiety. She even managed a smile. Thank God for Justin. She lifted her glass, took a sip of her drink and winked at the blonde, who smiled at her, obviously thinking Abby was a relative and no threat even if she wasn’t.

Calhoun was trying to find his voice. The sight of Abby with his brother was killing him. He hadn’t even considered that possibility. And while Justin might not be a playboy, he was a mature, very masculine man, and he had, after all, attracted a beauty like Shelby Jacobs.

Calhoun hadn’t meant to ask the blonde out. She was a last-ditch stand against what he was feeling for Abby, and a very platonic one at that. He didn’t even want her physically; she was just someone to talk to and be with who didn’t threaten his emotions. But he’d never thought Abby might see him with her. It cut him to the bone, embarrassed him. Did Abby care? Try as he might, he couldn’t find the slightest hint of jealousy in her face. She was wearing more makeup than usual, and that dress suited her. She looked lovely. Had Justin noticed?

“I said, I’d really like to go home, Cal,” the blonde drawled, laughing. “Can we, please? I’ve had a long day. I’m a model,” she added. “And we had a showing this afternoon. My feet are killing me, however unromantic that sounds.”

“Of course,” Calhoun said quietly. He took her arm. “I’ll see you later,” he told Justin.

“Sure you will,” Justin mused, his tone amused and unbelieving, and he smiled at the blonde, who actually blushed.

Calhoun noticed then how Abby reacted to the remark. She lowered her eyes, but her slender hand was shaking as it held the piña colada. He felt murderous. He wanted to pick her up and carry her out of here, out of Justin’s reach.

But Justin had his arm around Abby, and he tightened it. “We may be late,” Justin told his brother. “So don’t wait up if you beat us home. I thought I might take Abby dancing,” he added with narrowed eyes and the arrogant smile Calhoun hated.

“Yes, I’d like that,” Abby told him, smiling.

Calhoun felt his throat contracting. He managed a smile, too, but not a normal one. “Good night, then,” he said tautly. He hardly heard what the others said as he escorted the blonde out of the restaurant.

“It’s all right,” Justin told Abby, his voice quiet. “They’ve gone.”

She looked up, her eyes full of tears. “You know, don’t you?”

“How you feel, you mean?” he asked gently. He nodded. “Just don’t let him see it, honey. He’s still got a wild streak, and he’ll fight it like hell even if he feels what you do. Give him time. Don’t hem him in.”

“You know a lot about men,” she said, sniffing into the tissue she took from her purse.

“Well, I am one,” he replied. “Dry your eyes, now, and we’ll take the long way home. That ought to give him hell. He hated the very idea of your being out with me.”

“Really?”

He smiled at her expression. “Really. Chin up, girl. You’re young. You’ve got time.”

“What do I do in the meantime? He’s driving me crazy.”

“You might consider looking for that apartment,” he said. “I hate to see you move out, but it may be the only answer eventually.”

“I’d already decided that.” She wiped her eyes. “But he hates the idea of my rooming with Misty.”

“So do I,” he remarked honestly. “Did you know that she made a pass at Calhoun and he turned her down?”

“Can’t I trust anybody?” she moaned. “Aren’t there any women who don’t like him?”

“A few, here and there,” he mused, his dark eyes twinkling. “I think you might do better to find a room in somebody’s house. But that’s your decision,” he added quietly. “I’m not going to tell you what to do. You’re old enough to decide alone.”

“Thanks, Justin,” she said gently. She smiled. “You’ll make some lucky girl a nice husband one day.”

His expression hardened, and the humor went out of his dark eyes. “That’s a mistake I won’t make,” he said. “I’ve had my fill of involvement.”

“You never asked about Shelby’s side of it,” Abby reminded him. “You wouldn’t even listen, Calhoun said.”

“She said it all when she gave me back the ring. And I don’t want to discuss it, Abby,” he cautioned, his eyes flashing warning signals as he rose. “I talk to no one about Shelby. Not even you.”

She backed down. “Okay,” she said gently. “I won’t pry.”

“Let’s go,” he said, reaching for the check. “We’ll take two hours getting home, and I hope Calhoun has kittens when we get there.”

“I doubt he’ll notice,” Abby said miserably. “She was very pretty.”

“Looks don’t count in the long run,” he replied. He looked at Abby. “Odd, isn’t it, how embarrassed he was when you saw him with her?”

She turned away. “I’m tired. But it was a lovely dinner. Thank you.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Don’t thank me. I had a good time. It beats watching movies at home, anyway.” He chuckled gently.

Abby wanted to ask him why he never dated anyone and whether he was still carrying a torch for Shelby Jacobs after six years. Calhoun had said he was, but Justin was a clam when it came to his private life. And Abby wasn’t about to pry any further. She wasn’t that brave, not even with a piña colada inside her.

Abby was miserable by the time they got home. She’d done nothing but think of Calhoun and the model. Justin had been kind, talking as if she were really listening to him. But she was reliving those few tempestuous minutes in Calhoun’s Jaguar, when he’d come so close to kissing her and then had insulted her so terribly. She didn’t understand his hot-and-cold attitude or his irritability. She didn’t understand anything anymore.

Justin parked his elegant black Thunderbird in the garage, and Abby was surprised to find Calhoun’s Jaguar already there.

“Well, well, look who’s home,” Justin murmured, glancing at Abby. “I guess he felt like an early night.”

“Maybe he was exhausted,” Abby said coldly.

Justin didn’t comment, but he seemed highly amused and smug about something.

Calhoun was in the living room with the brandy bottle when they got home. He was down to his white shirtsleeves, which he’d rolled up to his elbows. His shirt was almost completely open in front, and Abby had to bite her lip to keep from staring helplessly at the broad expanse of his muscular chest. He was the most sensuous man she’d ever known, so powerful and tall and huge. Just the sight of him made her body tingle.

“So you finally brought her home,” Calhoun shot at his brother. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Sure,” Justin said imperturbably. “It’s two o’clock in the morning.”

“What were you doing?”

Justin cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, riding around. And things. Night, Abby,” he said, and winked at her before he turned and went up the staircase.

Abby felt as if she’d been poleaxed. Now why had Justin said that? It had made Calhoun look frankly murderous. She cleared her throat.

“I think I’ll go up, too.” She started to turn, only to have her arm caught in a viselike grip by huge warm fingers and be pulled into the living room.

Calhoun slammed the door behind her, his chest heaving with rough breaths. His dark eyes were really black now, glittering, dangerous, and his sensuous mouth was a thin, grim line.

“Where were you?” he demanded. “And doing what? Justin’s thirty-seven, and he’s no boy.”

She stared at him blankly. The sudden attack had knocked the wind out of her for a minute, but then her temper came to the rescue.