Part 13 (1/2)

”Yes, well, don't sell yourself short,” she added. ”And don't think I'll give up. I get what I want, eventually.”

”Do you?” he smiled. ”Why don't you introduce me to your aunt?”

HE LEFT EARLY, despite Jaqui's protests. ”Surely you don't work Sat.u.r.days?” she asked irritably.

”I run a ranch,” he reminded her. ”Weekends are the only time I can devote to it.” He didn't add that his job required him to be on call seven days a week. He worked on the ranch in spurts, leaving the daily operation to his ranch foreman.

”As long as you aren't running after your little neighbor,” she chided. ”G.o.d, that frumpy woman! And you had her staying in your house, I hear!”

”Her grandmother died,” he said tautly. ”She's having a hard time.”

”She's a loser, like most people around here,” she said carelessly. ”Pity has brought down many a man. Don't let it bring you down.” She moved against him deliberately when they were on the front porch, alone. She reached up, dragged his head down and kissed him with her whole mouth.

He was vaguely aroused by her, but not enough to accept what was blatantly an invitation to ravish her in the shadows.

He pulled back. ”I'll call you,” he said.

”You'd better, lover,” she purred. ”Or I'll come looking for you! Good night.”

”Good night.”

He got back into his car, thinking that Grace's shy response was far more exciting than this wildcat's ardent aggression. He felt sorry for Jaqui's aunt. She was a sweet, kind-natured but shy little woman who seemed anxious to please people. Her niece's scandalous behavior had obviously cost her some friends. None of the local rich families had set foot in her house tonight. It was a visible snub, although Jaqui was too thick-skinned to notice. Well, it wasn't his problem.

HE WAS FILLING IN HERD records on the computer when Miss Turner came bursting into his study late on Sat.u.r.day evening.

”I have to be away for a few days,” she said. ”My father lives in Austin. He's had a heart attack and is in the hospital. I must go to him.”

”Of course, you must,” he said at once. ”Take the Expedition.”

”Are you sure?”

”Yes, I'm sure. You know where the key is. Do you need an advance on your salary?” he added.

She was pleasantly surprised. ”No. But thank you.”

”Is there anything I can do?”

”No, nothing. Thanks, boss,” she added. Her face was pinched with concern. ”I'll be back as soon as I can.”

”If you need anything, call me,” he said firmly.

”What about your breakfast?” she wailed.

”I'll fix my own,” he returned. ”Now, go. And drive carefully.”

She managed a smile. ”Okay.”

”Call me when you get there, and tell me how things are going,” he added.

She was touched by his concern. ”I'll do that.”

HE WENT TO BED LATE and was groggy when he woke up the next morning. He got dressed and went downstairs. The house felt emptier than usual with Miss Turner gone. He found a message on the answering machine. It was her, telling him she'd arrived safely in Austin and that her father was holding his own.

He made himself two pieces of b.u.t.tered toast and a pot of coffee and sat down to drink it. The weekend had gone by amazingly fast. He felt a little guilty that he hadn't phoned to see how Grace was doing. It had probably hurt her feelings that he'd dropped her off at her own house and not bothered to check on her, with her ankle hurting.

Guilt made him impatient with himself. He owed her nothing. But just the same, he drove past her house on his way to San Antonio. Odd, her car was gone. It was barely six o'clock in the morning. He wondered where she was. But everything looked fine, so he put it out of his mind and continued down the road.

GRACE DIDN'T SEE Wilbur when she got home. But she did see why. He'd managed to get out a slightly open window, ripping his way through the screen, while she was at Garon's ranch. She didn't have time to search for him the morning she'd come home because she was already overdue at the florist shop. Sat.u.r.day was one of their busiest days.

When she got home again, after a day of hobbling and mostly sitting to do flower arrangements, she got the cane Miss Turner had loaned her and hobbled around the property looking for Wilbur.

She found him in a terrible condition, already dead. It looked as if the coyote had gotten him after all. Raging at the top of her lungs, she promised the varmint that she'd even the score one day if it took the rest of her life. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she imagined the poor old cat's final moments. But tears wouldn't bring him back. They'd never brought anybody back.

She covered him with an old pillowcase and rolled him up in a tattered bedsheet. She put him in a box in the back seat of her car and drove him to the vet, where he was picked up by a man who ran a pet cemetery and offered cremation of beloved pets. He had a nice selection of urns that the departed could occupy. Grace picked out a simple, inexpensive one and was a.s.sured that Wilbur's ashes would arrive in due time at Grace's house. She wrote a check for the expense, gritting her teeth as she saw the pitiful amount of money she had left after paying bills. She'd have to see if she could get a few extra hours to work this next week, at her second job, to increase her bank balance.

She'd heard at work about Garon's attendance at Jaqui Jones's party. It had wounded her, to know he hadn't spared Grace a single thought after he'd spent time with the beautiful brunette. Grace looked at her drab image in her mirror and felt hopelessly tacky. The only good dress she had was one of her granny's, the black one she'd worn to the funeral. Most of her wardrobe consisted of jeans and sweats.h.i.+rts and T-s.h.i.+rts with pictures or writing on them. She hardly owned any makeup, and she never took any time to do her hair.

On an impulse, she took her hair down and ran a brush through it. She was amazed at the change it made in her appearance, to have that thick, silky fall of blond hair draped around her shoulders. She put on just a touch of pale mauve lipstick and traded her sweats.h.i.+rt for a long-sleeved black T-s.h.i.+rt with j.a.panese writing on it.

She did have a nice figure, she thought, even if her face fell short of beauty to go with it. Her mouth was too wide, her cheekbones too high and her nose had a crook in it. She wished she was prettier. The first time in her life that she wanted to be pretty for a man, and he was infatuated with Mata Hari.

She put down the brush and walked back out onto the porch. She hadn't quite finished pruning the roses, and it was pleasant out by the steps, in the sun.

She'd no sooner started clipping when she heard a vehicle drive up. To her surprise, it was Garon, the last person she'd expected to see. She stood up with the clippers cradled in her hands while he got out of the car and came up to the steps.

He stopped short. His dark gaze slid over her face and shoulders, and down her body, with odd intensity. They began to glitter.

She opened her mouth to ask what was wrong. Before she got the words out, he had her up in his arms, and he was kissing her as if there wouldn't be a tomorrow.

8.

GARON COULDN'T HELP himself. The sight of Grace's trim, pretty figure in those tight jeans and s.h.i.+rt, the delight of her long blond hair cascading down her back, robbed him of reason. He had a sudden, urgent arousal that he couldn't control. The feel of her in his arms, against his tall, powerful body, was like a potent narcotic.

”Open your mouth, Grace,” he bit off against the taut line of her lips. He drew her even closer. ”Come on, baby,” he whispered seductively, teasing her lips with his own in a pa.s.sionate whisper of touch, ”do it. Do it, Grace...”

She tried to speak, and ended up doing exactly what he'd asked her to. She gasped at the rush of feeling it provoked. He knew too much. He made her hungry. She'd never in her life wanted to belong to a man, until right now. She could feel the heat and power of his muscular chest crus.h.i.+ng against her soft b.r.e.a.s.t.s, she could hear his heartbeat, the rasp of his breathing. Or was it her own heartbeat?

Older, frightening memories rushed in on her as his ardor became less controlled. She pushed at his chest. He drew away from her. He looked as shocked as she did. He fought to breathe normally.

”I know,” she said, holding up a hand and forcing a smile to her swollen lips. ”It was a helpless reaction that you can't explain, but I can. I had Miss Lettie down the road make a doll of you and rub my photo over it, so now you can't resist me.” She grinned.

He burst out laughing. ”d.a.m.n!”

”Not that I normally resort to such measures,” she added demurely. ”My extreme good looks usually get me all the men I want.”

He drew in a long breath. She had this uncanny way of defusing dangerous situations. He'd been in over his head, and he knew it. But she didn't seem to be angry at him, despite her past. He had to remember her background, so that he didn't frighten her. She was so very innocent, for a woman her age. Despite her bad experience, she seemed to like being in his arms. The thought excited him. ”There goes my illusion of being the only man in your life.”