Books By Diana Palmer

by Palmer, Diana

"Nasty old Carson," Mandelyn said.

  "I expect he'll take top money."

  Mandelyn glanced around the ring, look­ing for a city woman somewhere. "Doesn't he have a cheering section with him?" she asked with barely concealed curiosity.

  Jake and Patty exchanged amused glances. "Sure. Right here. We're it."

  Mandelyn glared toward the dirt ring. "Amazing. I would have thought the object of his affections would be around some­where. How's the house looking?"

  "Just great," Jake returned. "He's kind of lost interest, though. Says it's no use any­more."

  "There isn't any woman," Patty mur­mured under her breath. "I've told you al­ready, it was you."

  Mandelyn's face went hot and red. "Not now."

  "Do you stop loving people just because you get angry with them?" Patty asked.

  No, Mandelyn thought miserably. She'd never stop loving Carson. But what good would that do her? She'd just die of unre­quited love, that was all.

  The bronc riding competition was excit­ing. Most of the cowboys who participated drew good mounts, and the scores were high. But when Carson exploded into the arena on a horse named "TNT," groans were heard all around.

  He rode magnificently, Mandelyn thought dreamily, watching his lean figure. His batwing chaps flew, his body whipped ele­gantly, gracefully, as it absorbed the shock of the bronc's wild motions. And by the time the horn blew, everybody knew that top money was going to Carson that day.

  "Damn, isn't he good?" Jake laughed.

  "I thought you'd be riding this time," Mandelyn remarked.

  Jake looked down at Patty with a dreamy expression. "No. I've got more important things on my mind."

  Patty blushed and snuggled closer and Mandelyn felt empty and cold and alone.

  The sun beat down as rider after rider competed in bulldogging and calf roping. And then came steer wrestling. Carson was the last competitor, and there was a wild cheer as he came down off the horse squarely in front of the long horns of the animal. He dug in his heels, gave a quick, hard twist with his powerful arms, and the steer toppled onto the ground. Applause filled the bleachers, but Mandelyn was holding her breath as Carson got to his feet. The bull headed straight for him.

  "No!" she screamed, leaping to her feet. "Carson!"

  But it was all unnecessary. Lithe as a cat, he was onto the fence rail even as the animal charged. The rodeo clown made a great pro­duction of heading the steer off, finally leaping into a barrel and letting the animal work its frustration off by rolling him around.

  Mandelyn managed to sit back down, but her face was white. Patty put an arm around her.

  "Hey," she said gently. "He's been doing this a long time. He's okay."

  "Yes, of course he is," Mandelyn said, swallowing down her fear. She clasped her hands tight in her lap and sat stiffly until the end of the competitions.

  Later, she was about to head for her car when Patty caught her arm and tugged her along the aisle behind the pens. Carson was just loading his horse into the trailer behind the ranch pickup, and Jake went forward to shake his hand.

  "Hey, boss, you done good,” Jake grinned. "Congratulations."

  "And you kept saying you were too old," Patty added, hugging him. "I was proud of you."

  He hugged her back, smiling down at her in a way that twisted Mandelyn's heart. At least he and Patty were still friends. She hadn't wanted to come this close; she hadn't wanted to have to talk to him.

  He looked up and saw her and his face froze. His expression went from sunshine to thunderstorm in seconds.

  "We're going to see Billy for a minute," Patty called. "Be right back!"

  She dragged Jake away, looking smug and triumphant. Mandelyn twisted a knot in the necklace she was wearing while Carson glared at her.

  "You...did very well," she said, hating the long silence.

  Around them, animals snorted and whin­nied, and there was a loud buzz of conver­sation among the milling cowboys.

  "I didn't expect to find you at a rodeo," he said, lighting a cigarette. "It isn't exactly your thing, is it?"

  "I like rodeos, actually," she returned. Her eyes went down to his opened shirt, and there was a red welt across his chest, visible through the mat of black curling hair. "Carson, you're hurt!" she burst out, mov­ing close to him with wide, frightened eyes. "The bull got you...!" She reached out her fingers to touch it, and even as they made brief, electric contact with his skin, he'd caught her wrist bruisingly hard and pushed her away.

  His eyes blazed like blue lightning. "Don't touch me, damn you!" he whispered furi­ously.

  Her face went white. She could feel every single drop of blood draining out of it as she stared at him, horrified. So it was that bad. She was so repulsive to him that he couldn't even stand to have her hands on him now.

  She wanted to crawl off and die. Tears burst from her eyes and a sob tore out of her throat.

  She whirled and ran sightlessly through the crowd, crying so hard that she didn't hear Carson's wild exclamation or his furi­ous footsteps behind her. She pushed people aside, jumped over saddles and trailer hitches and ran until her lungs felt like bursting. She wanted to go home. She wanted to get away. It was the only thought in her tortured mind.

  She rounded the corner of the fence and squeezed by the pickup and into the front seat of her car. She was so blinded by tears that she could hardly see how to get the key into the ignition, but she managed it. She'd just started the car and was fumbling it into reverse when the door was jerked open and a lean, angry hand flashed past her to turn off the ignition and pull out the key,

  "You little fool, you'll kill yourself trying to drive in that condition!" Carson said harshly. He was breathing hard as he stared down at her furiously.

  The tears grew more profuse. "What the hell does it matter?" she asked brokenly. "I don't care if I die!"

  "Oh, God," he ground out. He eased himself into the front seat beside her, facing her. His hands framed her face and he brought her mouth under his, tasting tears and mint and trembling lips. And the sob that rose from her throat went into his hard mouth, mingled with his rough breath.

  He eased her head back against the seat with the pressure of his lips. His tongue ca­ressed her, probed into the soft sweet dark­ness of her mouth. His sweaty chest pressed against her soft breasts and she could feel the hardness of muscle and the warmth of flesh and the wild thunder of his heart.

  It was so sweet. So sweet, after all the long days and nights of wanting and needing and loving and pain. She slid her hands over his shoulders, up into the thick dampness of his hair and sighed shakily as her mouth opened and answered the tender pressure of his own.

  His lips lifted, then came down again, kissing away the tears and the pain while she sobbed softly and tried to stop crying.

  "Carson," she whispered achingly.

  "It's all right," he whispered back. His hands trembled on her face. He kissed her again, so tenderly that it hurt, and she moaned.

  "I’m so hungry...for you," she moaned. "So hungry...for your mouth, your... hands."

  "Baby..." he protested.

  She crushed her mouth against his, drowning in sensual pleasure as he answered the hard kiss. His arms slid under her, pull­ing, crushing, and she thought if she died now, it would be all right. Life would never offer anything more beautiful than this, than Carson wanting her.

  A long time later, she felt his mouth lift, and the breeze cooled her moistened lips. Her eyes opened, dark gray, still hungry, worshipping his face.

  His nostrils flared. His own eyes were fierce and hot with unsatisfied passion.

  "I want.. .to have you," she whispered softly, searching his eyes.

  His eyes closed. His teeth clenched. "It's no good! It won't change anything!"

  "It will give you peace," she said, smoothing his hard face gently.

  His eyes opened again, searching hers, and there was pain and hunger and loneli­ness in them.

  She managed a tremulous
smile. "Patty said once that I should seduce you. That you'd probably let me."

  His fingers traced her mouth, unsteady and gentle. "That would be one for the books, wouldn't it? A shy little virgin seduc­ing an outlaw like me?"

  "Would you like it?" she whispered, wide-eyed.

  He trembled before he could get his body under control, and she touched his hair, his face, with hands that loved the feel of him.

  "I'd be.. .very careful with you," she said unsteadily, on a nervous laugh. "I wouldn't even let you get pregnant, I promise."

  He burst out laughing, but his eyes were solemn and quiet. "Mandy..."

  "Please," she whispered, beyond pride.

  His eyes closed and he muttered a harsh word. "Look, it's no use," he said after a minute. "You and I are too different. De­sire. . .it fades. So I want you. And you want me. But if we had each other, it wouldn't solve the problem. It would only make things unbearable." He sighed roughly and put her away from him. "No, honey. You go your own way. Someday you'll find some cultured dude with fancy manners and you'll live happily ever after. I was a fool to think anything would change. Goodbye, Mande-lyn."

  He got out of the car and left her sitting there, staring after him. She thought about what he'd said and a slow, easy smile came to her lips. That one tremor had given him away. She dried her tears and drove back to the house. She had things to do.

  About midnight, she had a nice warm bath and doused herself in a faint, subtle perfume. She powdered her smooth, pink body and pulled on a button-up yellow dress, and nothing else. She brushed her hair until it shone. Then she slid into her sandals and got in her car and drove to Carson's house.

  The lights were all off. She ran up onto the front porch, sure that the boys were all gone because it was Saturday night. She smiled wickedly as she thought about what she was going to do. Drastic situations called for drastic measures, and nobody had ever been this desperate, she decided. She knocked hard on the door, noticing that the wood­work was freshly painted. The porch looked nice. Very white and different, and there was a white porch swing and rocking chairs, too. She approved of the renovation.

  There were muffled curses and thuds as she knocked again. The door flew open and Carson stood there, in the lighted room, without a stitch of clothing on his power­fully muscled, hair-roughened body.

  Chapter Ten

  Carson blinked, staring at her as if he thought he was having a dream. "Mandy?" he asked softly.

  She was just adjusting to the sight of him. It had been a wild shock, although he was as perfect as a man could possibly be, and her eyes were only just able to drag themselves back up to his shocked face.

  He stood aside, running a hand through his disheveled dark hair, just staring at her. She opened the screen door, her heart pounding, and walked into the living room. It was as much a shock as Carson. The sparse, worn furniture was gone, replaced by heavy oak pieces with brocade fabric in cream and chocolate. The brown carpet was thick; the curtains were of the same fabric as the upholstery on the chairs. And the beau­tiful fireplace had been renovated and was the showpiece she'd once thought it could be.

  "The house is lovely," she remarked breathlessly, forcing her eyes to stay on his face.

  "What are you doing here at this time of night? "he burst out.

  Her eyes glanced down and up again and she flushed. "Getting anatomy lessons."

  He glanced down, too, and smiled rue­fully. "Well, you should have called first."

  "I guess so."

  "Want me to put my pants on, or is the shock wearing off?"

  She searched his blue eyes, hesitating. It had seemed so easy when she was thinking about it. And now it was becoming more impossible by the minute. The longer she waited, the weaker her nerve became. He needed a shave, but he looked vital and ex­quisitely masculine and she wanted to touch him all over that bronzed skin.

  She moved closer to him, watching the way his eyes narrowed warily.

  "I... want you... to come to bed with me," she faltered.

  He glared at her. "I told you this after­noon how I felt about that," he said curtly.

  "Yes, I know." She reached out and touched his chest, watching the way he stiff­ened. His hands caught her, but she trailed her fingers slowly down his body and his hold weakened. His body trembled and jerked.

  "Don't," he whispered huskily.

  It was so easy. Easier than she'd dreamed. Heady with success, she pressed her body against his and reached up to coax his head down.

  "Help me," she whispered. She eased her mouth onto his and kissed him tenderly. She loved his immediate response to her. He tasted of whiskey. It was a little disturbing at first, but the warm hardness of his mouth got through to her and she became accus­tomed to the strong taste.

  His hands caught her shoulders. "Mandy, we can't," he breathed roughly. "You're a virgin, for God's sake!"

  "Yes, you'll be my first man," she whis­pered. "The very first."

  That made his hands tremble and she stood on tiptoe, brushing her body softly against his so that something predictable and awesome happened to him. She sighed and moaned.

  "It's going to be so beautiful," she said at his lips. "The most beautiful night..."

  She left him long enough to close and lock the door. Then she went back to him, where he stood frozen and waiting, and reached up her arms.

  "Would you carry me?" she whispered.

  He bent like a man in a trance and lifted her tenderly in his hard arms. She nestled her face into his throat, feeling the thunderous beat of his pulse there, feeling his taut body absorb the shock of his footsteps as he carried her into the darkened bedroom and laid her down on his rumpled bed.

  "Honey..." he began in a strangled voice.

  "Here," she said, drawing his hands to the buttons of her dress.

  He muttered something, and his fingers trembled as he fumbled them open. She sat up, sliding the dress off her body. She lay back, her body pale in the patch of moon­light coming through the window. She held out her arms.

  "Come here, darling," she whispered. She wasn't even afraid. She wanted him. She wanted a child with him. And tonight she was going to make sure she had that, if nothing else. If he sent her away, she wanted at least the hope, the tiny hope, of having a part of him.

  "Mandy," he groaned. He lay down on the bed with her like a lamb going to slaugh­ter.

  "It's all right," she whispered. She trem­bled a little when his hands moved down her thighs and back up over her flat stomach and her soft breasts.

  "You're afraid," he whispered.

  "It's very mysterious right now," she ex­plained quietly. "I...I know the mechan­ics, but I don't know how it's going to feel, you see. Will... Carson, will it hurt me very much?" she whispered.

  "We don't have to do it," he said.

  "I have to," she breathed. "I have to!"

  "Why?" he asked.

  His hands were fascinated with her body, and she stretched like a cat being stroked, loving their rough tenderness. "I want a baby," she whispered. "I want your baby."

  He shuddered wildly. His breath caught and he buried his face against her body, groaning helplessly.

  Yes, she thought, drawing him closer, yes, that had done it. Now he wouldn't be able to stop, or stop her. It would happen now, be­cause she'd stirred him in an unbearable way.

  His mouth found hers hungrily, and his hands began to touch her in new, shocking ways. She trembled and twisted and moaned, and still his hands tormented her.

  His mouth went on a trembling journey of exploration that left not one inch of her un­touched, that made her cry out and whisper things to him that would have shocked her speechless in daylight.

  When she felt his weight on her, she stiff­ened a little, and his hands brushed back her damp hair, calming her.

  "I won't take you in a rush," he prom­ised tenderly. "Mandy, close your eyes for a minute. I'm going to turn on the light."

  "No...!"

  "Yes," h
e whispered, brushing his mouth over her eyes as he reached out to turn on the light at the head of the bed.

  Her eyes opened, shocked, frightened and although she knew he was too committed to draw away, she was afraid the starkness of the light might make him stop.

  His hands smoothed her hair, touched her hot cheeks. His eyes adored her, glazed with desire, bright with passion and hunger.

  "I asked you this once before. Let me watch," he whispered shakily. "You came in here a virgin, and we're about to do something extraordinary together. Let me... watch it happen to you... please."

  Her body trembled, but she didn't say a word. Her hands touched his broad, per­spiring shoulders, his chest, his face. She felt him move and her eyes dilated. She stiff­ened, but his fingers touched her hair again, soothing, comforting as his hips eased down.

  "No," he whispered when she tried to move away. His voice shook, but his smile was steady, his eyes were... loving her.

  "Oh," she whispered sharply, staring straight into his eyes as his body locked with hers.

  "Yes," he said, shuddering, his face clenching. "Oh, God, yes, yes... yes!"

  Something incredible was happening. She couldn't believe the intimacy of it. Her nails were biting into him and she didn't even re­alize it. Her body forgot that it had a brain and began to entice him, incite him. It arched and forced a deeper intimacy that began as pain and suddenly became easy and sweet and achingly tender.

  "Now," she whispered mindlessly. "Now, I... belong... to you...!"

  "Baby...was there a time...when you didn't?" he bit off. His mouth burned into hers, hot and wet and hungry, and his body began to find a new rhythm with hers. She felt his hands, holding her hips, showing her how. She closed her eyes and let her body teach her what to do, her hands touching, her mouth whispering into his. Storms. Sunlight. Wild breeze and sweet peace. Open fields and running feet. A surge. A scream. Hers. And all too soon she felt conscious again. Carson lay shuddering helplessly on her trembling body, his voice shaking as if he were in unholy torment, whispering her name like a litany.

  She reached up to cradle him, to comfort him. Her eyes opened and there was the ceiling, the light fixture. She moved and felt his body move, and realized that they were still part of each other. She caught her breath at the beauty of it.