by Arlene James
City Girl
By
Arlene James
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
"LET ME GO!" SHE DEMANDED BREATHLESSLY.
His lips stopped their gentle caressing. His hand slid down from her body and the arm beneath her relaxed. "Why, Crystal? You don't really want me to. I've been as much on your mind as you have been on mine." He chuckled softly under his breath.
Anger flared in Crystal. She pressed her hands against his chest and pushed him away.
He lay on his back in the moonlight, hands tucked beneath his head. A slow, wicked smile played across his lips. "Well, you're certainly not the sophisticated, city girl you pretend to be," he drawled.
ARLENE JAMES grew up on a ranch in Oklahoma and has lived all over the South. In 1976 she married "the most romantic man in the world," and since then "every trip with him has been a romance to remember forever." We think you will feel the same way about her books.
Dear Reader:
Silhouette Romances is an exciting new publishing venture. We will be presenting the very finest writers of contemporary romantic fiction as well as outstanding new talent in this field. It is our hope that our stories, our heroes and our heroines will give you, the reader, all you want from romantic fiction.
Also, you play an important part in our future plans for Silhouette Romances. We welcome any suggestions or comments on our books and I invite you to write to us at the address below.
So, enjoy this book and all the wonderful romances from Silhouette. They're for you!
Karen Solem
Editor-in-Chief
Silhouette Books
P.O. Box 769
New York, N.Y. 10019
Copyright © 1982 by Arlene James
ISBN: 0-671-57141-9
First Silhouette Books printing March, 1982
Map by Tony Ferrara
Chapter One
The armchair in Mr. Groman's law office was an overstuffed, wingbacked, burgundy leather affair. Crystal snuggled back into the corner of it and thought about the first time she had come to Mr. Groman's office with Aunt Judith. She had sat primly on the edge of this same big chair with her taffeta skirt spread out on the seat and her white patent-leather shoes dangling high above the black-and-gold Persian rug.
Mr. Groman had breezed into his office that day, apologized for being perpetually late, tugged playfully at the silky twin chocolate-brown ponytails that dangled from a straight part atop her head to her shoulders, and winked a large bespectacled eye at her. She liked him from that moment on, and though theirs was primarily a business relationship, she had always known that her welfare was uppermost in his dealings with her.
That knowledge made it doubly difficult for her to come here like this. She hated to ask that her late aunt's will be read and her small estate settled immediately, but it had been a month since dear old Aunt Judith had finally died of cancer after two long, excruciating years, and if Crystal was going to be able to leave town and make a new life for herself elsewhere, she had to have whatever money she could get. The money was, after all, hers to do with as she pleased. There could be no quarrel about that, since she was Aunt Judith's only living relative. If only she could make the lawyer understand how important it was that she move away from Dallas.
Crystal came impatiently to her feet and ambled about the opulent office. As far as she could tell, nothing at all had changed here in the past fourteen years. The oak-paneled walls and heavy furnishings still gave off that air of solid competency and quiet wealth. The gold ceiling-to-floor drapes hung open, affording an impressive glass-and-chrome-and-concrete view of downtown Dallas. The black marble top of the massive desk still gleamed with a mirror finish, its contents meticulously arranged upon it.
Nothing had changed here. Even Mr. Groman had remained remarkably the same. Only she had changed. That shy, pink-petticoated little girl of eight was no more. In her place stood a lovely, twenty-two-year-old, petite, doll-like woman, an image Crystal tried to dispel with her tastefully slim skirt and matching blazer of beige linen. Her long dark tresses coiled at the nape of her graceful neck in a thick figure-eight knot. She wore a white-and-beige scarf, its ends very properly tucked inside the deep V neck of her jacket. The three-inch heels of her white leather shoes added height to her diminutive frame, though it actually did little to make her appear taller. She reached barely five feet in her stockings, five feet and three inches in the tallest shoes she could find. Even with her shapely figure, she still managed to look like a big-eyed pixie unless she dressed carefully and executed her makeup with precision.
Crystal glanced at the plain gold watch at her tiny wrist. Mr. Groman, as usual, was late. Not that it irritated her, not at all. She perfectly understood how very busy he was. His services were very much in demand, and, being a magnanimous individual by nature, he found it difficult to deny his precious time to anyone. It was one of his most endearing qualities and probably a contributing factor to his baldness.
She smiled at that. Mr. Groman had the most naked face and head she had ever seen. There was not a hair upon his smooth pink dome, not an eyebrow or even a wisp of an eyelash to adorn his face, which was totally open, with oversized eyes and round cheeks, a diminutive nose and a pucker of a mouth that could widen itself to surprising proportions whenever he smiled, which was often.
In all the years since her parents had died in a car crash and she had gone to live with her maiden aunt, Mr. Groman had handled her finances. He had squeezed every available cent from her father's modest estate, allowing her and Aunt Judith to live comfortably in the family home, a rambling gable-roofed building between two huge oaks in what used to be one of the better neighborhoods of a circa 1920's Dallas. It had been Mr. Groman who arranged Crystal's college tuition year after year. And when Aunt Judith's medical bills began to pile up and the insurance coverage ran out, it was he who had stepped in and taken that burden from Crystal's shoulders. It was only logical that she turn to him now. In fact, there was nowhere else she could go.
It was not actually asking for the money which Crystal dreaded; it was having to explain herself. What could she tell him? The truth, that on Tuesday, three days away from graduation, she had suddenly decided not to take the teaching position she had been offered by the Dallas bilingual-education system? That she was determined to leave Dallas and make a new life for herself someplace where she would never have to see Jerry Chessman and his new bride?
Crystal sighed heavily and closed her eyes against an image of Jerry. She wanted very much to leave Jerry out of it. Pride simply would not allow her to reveal her foolishness to Mr. Groman. But how could she avoid it? Her engagement to Jerry had already been announced, and even if she volunteered no information whatsoever, Mr. Groman was bound to ask about her intended husband. What would she say then? "My darling fiancé threw me over for a more worldly woman."
Her pert valentine mouth drew together in a musing grimace as she gave silent vent to her anger. Once again, she renewed her decision in her heart. She would leave here. She must. If she stayed in Dallas, she would have to see Jerry and his wife far too often. It would be different if they had not chosen the same career, but she could not work in the Dallas bilingual-education program alongside him as if nothing had happened, as if he had not broken her heart.
Perhaps it had been their mutual love of languages that had brought them together. She could not say now why she had let herself fall in love with him. He was darkly handsome and
oh, so terribly charming. He had courted her with an intensity that was both flattering and frightening. He had even won over Aunt Judith, whose chief opinion of romance was that it was for the birds, and that had been enough character reference for Crystal. If Aunt Judith liked him, he had to be all right.
She ignored their occasional tiffs because they were always about the same thing. He constantly pressed her to share his bed, and though she steadfastly refused, she mistakenly took his ardor for proof of his love. How foolish she had been! In spite of everything, she had truly believed that her virginity would mean something very precious to him on their wedding night. She wanted very much to offer it as proof of her love for him. All along, she had thought he understood and that his impatience was just a sign of his passion for her.
The thick dark lashes glistened with the tears that brimmed in her round green eyes as that awful parting scene played before them.
Suddenly she was back in her aunt's old-fashioned living room. Jerry stood before her, shoulders hunched, hands hanging limply at his sides. Her head swam dizzily, and her stomach knotted itself into a cold hard ball.
"I'm sorry," he was saying softly, "I didn't mean this to happen."
"You didn't mean to date another woman while you were engaged to me?" she shot back incredulously. "Or you didn't mean to fall in love with her? Which did you not mean, Jerry?"
His smile was small, pathetic, sorrowful, and for a moment Crystal actually felt compassion for him. Beneath all the hurt and humiliation, she knew that what he was doing was difficult and demanded a great deal of courage. She also knew that in a weird, ironic way, she was relieved that the engagement was broken, but her pride had suffered a tremendous blow, and it was asking a lot to expect her to be understanding about this.
"Listen, Crystal, I've always admired you, you know that. And I thought getting engaged was what we both wanted, but… well…" He ducked his head and gazed nervously at his feet. "You made it pretty plain that you didn't really want me. You've rebuffed my every advance, and frankly, Crystal, I can't help believing that if you really loved me you would have shown it."
"H-how can you say that?" she stammered, fighting tears, "I… I tried to explain that I wanted to wait until we were married. You… you even said that was all right. Now you're telling me that you won't marry me because I wouldn't sleep with you!"
Jerry blanched and gave his dark head an impatient shake. "I'm trying to tell you that I won't marry you because I don't believe you really love me."
"And she does?"
Jerry leveled frank, honest eyes at her. "Yes, I believe she does," he answered softly. "She's a bit more—what shall I say?—worldly than you, Crystal, and frankly, she's gone to great lengths to prove just how much she does love me."
The implications of that hit home rather solidly, its impact oddly steadying. Crystal lifted her chin imperiously.
"I see," she clipped, forcing an impassive blankness upon her face. "She proved her love in an acceptable manner, and I didn't. I didn't know it was a contest, Jerry, but had I, I wouldn't have competed."
He nodded his head as if he had understood that all along, and she went on, speaking more to herself than him.
"I'm not the sort of woman who will compete against another woman for love. I want to be loved for myself, not just for the availability of my body."
In spite of her fight for control, she choked up after that, and finding that there was nothing left to be said anyway, turned her back to him.
Jerry laid a hand lightly upon her shoulder, but when she flinched, he took it away.
"Someday, Crystal," he promised hollowly, "you'll find the man you can't resist. I just wasn't that man."
"No, I guess you weren't," she whispered, but inside she wondered why, if that were true, it hurt so badly to lose him to another woman.
They stood awkwardly for a moment, neither wanting to look at the other, neither finding anything of substance to say, until Jerry simply walked to the door and let himself out quietly.
He couldn't have chosen a more inopportune time in Crystal's life to break off their engagement. It had been almost more than she could bear at the time, with the pain of her aunt's recent death still so poignant, but somehow she muddled through. Now, with only three days left to graduation, she knew without a doubt that she was infinitely better off without him. Yet, the pain and humiliation were as sharp as ever.
She had known immediately what she must do. Within minutes after that shattering scene with Jerry, she had walked to the phone and called up the personnel director who had interviewed her for the position with the Dallas bilingual-education system. She had explained patiently but firmly that she would not take the job after all. How could she, knowing that Jerry had already accepted a position with them? And now, here she stood, waiting for the lawyer who was her only link with the safety and security of her past, about to sever this last tie as well.
Crystal had barely pulled herself out of her reverie when the door opened and Mr. Groman swept through on short, pudgy legs, followed by a much taller blond man whom Crystal did not know.
"Crystal!" Mr. Groman seemed surprised to see her. "Oh, I am sorry. I forgot all about you!" He glanced at the tall man leaning against the doorjamb. "Mr. Garrett Dean, allow me to introduce a very special client, Miss Crystal Gentry."
Mr. Dean came forward with athletic ease and offered a very large callused hand. Her own was dwarfed in it, and she marveled at it for sheer size. Her gaze traveled slowly up the long arm and came to rest upon his face.
It was a decidedly masculine face, square-jawed with sharply chiseled features, slightly jutting brow, and deeply set eyes of the most startling blue. His sun-bleached hair fell across a high, tanned forehead, providing sharp contrast with the dark lashes and brows that framed those vivid eyes.
"How do you do, Mr. Dean," she greeted brightly, and was puzzled by the silent nod and frankly appraising look she got in return.
Feeling a bit unnerved, Crystal removed her hand from his giant paw and turned her attention to Mr. Groman, who had left them to take his seat behind his desk.
"I can come back later," she offered, almost hoping that this meeting could be delayed, but the bald head was already shaking negatively.
"No, no. Just have a seat. I'll be through with Mr. Dean momentarily."
She crossed the floor reluctantly, feeling blue eyes upon her, and took a seat in the burgundy leather chair, her chair, crossing her diminutive feet primly at the ankles.
"I'm sorry to impinge upon your time, ma'am," the tall man drawled.
Crystal turned jerkily, surprised by the very deep, resonant voice, and nodded politely.
He had spoken quietly, yet his words seemed to rumble with a force held tightly in check, as if he could create enough volume to halt traffic swarming busily on the street fifteen stories below them.
He was a very big man, powerfully built, though slender and wiry. The snug fit of his tan doeskin western-cut suit attested to that. The contrasting top stitching across the shoulders accentuated their width exactly in the same manner as the cut of his slacks accentuated the corded muscles of his thighs and the wide silver buckle of his belt gave witness to his narrow waist and hard stomach. He cut a swashbuckling figure, complete with brown alligator cowboy boots and brushed suede Stetson, which he carried gingerly in one large-boned hand.
He was taller than Jerry, she mused; then winced inwardly, chastising herself for comparing every man with that cad. Yet, she had to admit that next to this man, Jerry would look like a schoolboy, and it was not just a matter of height and build. Garrett Dean wore an indefinable air of authority and assurance and… what? Sexuality?
She realized that the blue eyes were fixed upon her with something closely akin to amusement, and she swallowed a tiny bead of embarrassment, wondering if he could have possibly read her thoughts.
"Um, don't think a thing of it, Mr. Dean. I know how it is when you have pressing business matters," she belatedl
y answered his polite apology, then turned away quickly as he strode toward the desk, where Mr. Groman had laid out some papers for him to sign.
"If you will just pen your John Henry on these," Mr. Groman was saying, "the presentation will be ready, and I'll get them over to Longhorn Oil this afternoon."
Crystal felt most uncomfortable. She had no business being here while these two finished up their meeting, and besides, there was something unsettling about the way Mr. Dean looked at her, as if he were trying to decide something about her. She made as if to rise, mumbling that she would move out of their way, but he stopped her.
"No need," he rumbled, indicating with a nod of his sun-streaked head that she should stay where she was; and then, incredibly, he handed her his hat.
Crystal sat there, mouth slightly ajar, holding his hat as if it were the crown jewels, while he bent low over the desk and scrawled his name upon several important looking papers.
"I think that about does it," announced the lawyer with a satisfied smile. He bounced to his feet and grasped the big hand of his client.
They made a comical picture, the tiny lawyer and the big cowboy. Mr. Groman looked like a stuffed toy next to this lean, hard man, but if he was aware of it, his manner certainly did not indicate it.
"I'll call you tonight and let you know Longhorn's reaction to our offer," he said.
"Fine. You know where to reach me," the rich voice boomed; then he was turning to Crystal, flashing a dazzling white smile and reclaiming his hat with a flourishing bow. "Miss Gentry." He raised the hat in a parting salute and backed away. She watched silently as his long strides carried him to the door and through it until it closed against his broad back.
"My goodness!" she commented. "That certainly is a big man!"
"Oh, yes, indeed." Groman plopped down into his chair. "Very big man. Got a big spread down in central Texas, his own oil company, few thousand head of cattle, lot of political influence. Very big man indeed."