Books By Diana Palmer

by Palmer, Diana

  Chapter Eight

  Belatedly, Leo rolled the window down and glared at his brother and sister-in-law. "Well?" he asked belligerently,

  "We just wondered if you were all right," Cag said clearing his throat and trying very hard not to look at Janie, "The truck was sitting out here in the middle of nowhere, but we didn't see anybody inside."

  "That's right," Tess said at once. "We didn't see any­body. At all. Or anything."

  "Not anything." Cag nodded vigorously.

  "I was showing Janie a photo of the Clark man," Leo said curtly. He pulled it out of his pocket. It was crumpled and slightly torn. He glared at it, trying to straighten it "See?"

  Cag cleared his throat and averted his eyes. "You, uh, should have taken it out of your pocket before you showed it to her... I'm going!"

  Cag powered his window up with a knowing grin and gunned the engine, taking off in a spray of mud. Leo let his own window back up with flattened lips.

  Janie was turned away from him, her shoulders shaking, Odd little noises that she was trying to smother kept slip­ping out. She was about to burst trying not to laugh.

  He leaned back against the seat and threw the clipping at her.

  "It's not my fault," she protested. "I was sitting here minding my own business when you got amorous."

  He pursed his swollen lips and gave her a look that would have melted butter. "Amorous. That's a good word for it."

  She was coming down from the heights and feeling self-conscious. She picked up the clipping and handed it back to him, belatedly noticing his white Stetson at her feet. She picked it up, too, and grimaced. "Your poor hat."

  He took it from her and tossed it into the small back seat of the double cab. "It will clean," he said impatiently.

  She folded her hands in her lap, toying with the streaked raincoat that she'd propped over her legs.

  "Marilee caused a lot of trouble between us," he said after a minute, surprising her into meeting his somber gaze. "I'm sorry about that."

  "You mean I don't really make you sick?" she asked in a thin voice.

  He winced. "I was furious about what I thought you'd done," he confessed. "It was a lie, Janie, like all the other terrible things I said. I'm sorry for every one of them, if it does any good."

  She toyed with a button on her raincoat and stared out the window at the rain. It did help, but she couldn't stop wondering if he hadn't meant it. Maybe guilt brought the apology out of him, rather than any real remorse. She knew he didn't like hurting people.

  A long sigh came from the other side of the pickup. "I'll drive you back home," he said after a minute, and put the truck in gear. "Fasten your seat belt, honey."

  The endearment made her feel warm all over, but she didn't let it show. She didn't really trust Leo Hart.

  He turned back onto the main road. "Fred and going to mob you with company at Shea's," he said con­versationally. "Between us, we know most of the ranchers around Jacobsville. You can ask Harley to keep dropping in from time to time, and Fred and I will talk to the others."

  She gave him a quick glance. "Harley's jaw was really bruised."

  His eyes darkened. "He had no business interfering. You don't belong to damned Harley!"

  She didn't know what to say. That sounded very much like jealousy. It couldn't be, of course.

  His dark eyes glanced off hers. "Do you sit around in parked trucks with him and let him take your blouse off?" he asked suddenly, furiously.

  "I do not!" she exploded.

  He calmed down at once. He shifted in the seat, still uncomfortable from the keen hunger she'd kindled in his powerful body. "Okay."

  Her long fingers clenched on the fabric of the coat. "You have no right to be jealous of me!" she accused angrily.

  ' 'After what we just did?'' he asked pleasantly. “In your dreams, Janie."

  "I don't belong to you, either," she persisted.

  "You almost did," he replied, chuckling softly. "You have no idea what a close call that was. Cag and Tess saved you."

  "Excuse me?"

  He gave her a rueful glance. "Janie, I had your jeans half off, or have you forgotten already?"

  "Leo!"

  "I'm not sure I could have stopped," he continued, slowing to make a turn. "And you were no damned help at all," he added with affectionate irony, "twisting your hips against me and begging me not to stop."

  She gasped. Her face went scarlet. "Of all the bla­tant...!"

  "That's how it was, all right," he agreed. "Blatant. For the record, when a man gets that hard, it's time to call a halt any way you can, before you get in over your head. I can tell you haven't had much practice at it, but now is a good time to listen to advice."

  "I don't need advice!"

  "Like hell you don't. Once I got my mouth on your soft belly, you'd never have been able to make me stop."

  She stared at him with slowly dawning realization. She remembered the hot, exquisite pleasure of his mouth on her breasts. She could only imagine how it would feel to let him kiss her there, on her hips, on her long legs....

  "You know far too much about women," she gritted.

  "You know absolutely nothing about men," he coun­tered. He smiled helplessly. "I love it. You were in over your head the minute I touched you with intent. You'd have let me do anything I wanted." He whistled softly. "You can't imagine how I felt, knowing that. You were the sweetest candy I've ever had."

  He was confounding her. She didn't know what to make of the remarks. He'd been standoffish, insulting, offensive and furious with her. Now he'd done a complete about-face. He was acting more like a lover than a big brother.

  His dark eyes cut around sideways and sized up her ex­pression. "Do you think things can just go back to the way they were before?" he asked softly. "I remember telling you that it was going to change everything."

  She swallowed. "I remember."

  "It already has. I look at you and get aroused, all over again," he said bluntly. "It will only get worse."

  Her face flamed. "I will not have an affair with you."

  "Great. I'm glad to know you have that much self-control. You can teach it to me."

  "I won't get in a truck with you again," she muttered.

  "I'll bring the car next time," he said agreeably. "Of course, we'll have to open both doors. I'll never be able to stretch out in the front seat the way I did in the cab of this truck."

  Her fingers clenched on the raincoat. "That won't hap­pen again."

  "It will if I touch you."

  She glared at him. "You listen here...!"

  He pulled the truck onto a dirt road that led through one of Fred's pastures, threw it out of gear, switched off the engine and reached for Janie with an economy of motion that left her gasping.

  He had her over his lap, and his mouth hit hers with the force of a gust of wind. He burrowed into her parted lips while one lean hand went to her spine, grinding her into the fierce arousal that just the touch of her had provoked.

  "Feel that?" he muttered against her lips. "Now try to stop me."

  She went under in a daze of pleasure. She couldn't even pretend to protest, not even when his big hand found her breast and caressed it hungrily right through the cloth of her blouse.

  Her arms went around his neck. She lifted closer, shiv­ering, as she felt the aching hunger of his body echo in her own. She moaned helplessly.

  "Of all the stupid things I've done lately..." He groaned, too, his big arms wrapping her up tight as the kiss went on and on and on.

  He moved out from under the steering wheel and shifted her until she was straddling his hips, her belly lying against his aroused body so blatantly that she should have been shocked. She wasn't He felt familiar to her, beloved to her. She wanted him. Her body yielded submissively to the in­sistent pressure of both his hands on her hips, dragging them against his in a fever of desire.

  The approaching roar of a truck engine for the second time in less than an hour brought his head
up. He looked down into Janie's heated face, at the position they were in.

  His dazed eyes went out the windshield in time to see Fred's old pickup coming down the long pasture road about a quarter mile ahead of them.

  He let out a word Janie had only heard Tiny use during heated arguments with patrons, and abruptly put her back in her own seat, pausing to forcefully strap her into her seat belt.

  She felt shaky all over. Her eyes met his and then went involuntarily to what she'd felt so starkly against her hun­gry body. She flushed.

  "Next time you'll get a better look," he said harshly. "I wish I could explain to you how it feels."

  She wrapped her arms around her body. "I know...how it feels," she whispered unsteadily. "I ache all over."

  The bad temper left him at once. He scowled as he watched her, half-oblivious to Fred's rapid approach. He couldn't take his eyes off her. She was delicious.

  She managed to meet his wide, shocked eyes. "I’m sorry."

  "For what?" he asked huskily. "You went in headfirst, just like I did."

  She searched his eyes hungrily. Her body was on fire for him. "If you used something..." she said absently.

  He actually flushed. He got back under the steering wheel and avoided looking at her. He couldn't believe what she was saying.

  Fred roared up beside them and pulled onto the hard ground to let his window down.

  "Rain's stopped," he told Leo. "I thought I'd run over to Eb Scott's place and have a talk with him about getting his cowboys to frequent Shea's at night."

  "Good idea," Leo said, still flushed and disheveled.

  Fred wisely didn't look too closely at either of them, but he had a pretty good idea of what he'd interrupted. "I won't be long, sweetheart," he told Janie.

  "Okay, Dad. Be careful," she said in a husky voice.

  He nodded, grinned, and took off.

  Leo started the engine. He was still trying to get his breath. He stared at the dirt path ahead instead of at Janie. "I could use something," he said after a minute. "But lovemaking is addictive, Janie. One time would be a be­ginning, not a cure, do you understand?"

  She shook her head, embarrassed now that her blood was cooling.

  He reached out and caught one of her cold hands in his, intertwining their fingers. “You can't imagine how flattered I am," he said quietly. "You're a virgin, and you'd give yourself to me..."

  She swallowed hard. "Please. Don't."

  His hand contracted. "I'll drive you home. If you weren't working next Saturday, we could take in a movie and have dinner somewhere."

  Her heart jumped up into her throat. "M...me?"

  He looked down at her with the beginnings of posses­sion. "You could wear that lacy white thing you wore to the ball," he added softly. "I like your shoulders bare. You have beautiful skin." His eyes fell to her bodice and dark­ened. "Beautiful breasts, too, with nice nipples..."

  "Leo Hart!" she exclaimed, horrified.

  He leaned over and kissed her hungrily. "I'll let you look at me next time," he whispered passionately. "Then you won't be so embarrassed when we compare notes."

  She thought of seeing him without clothes and her whole face colored.

  "I know what I said, but..." she protested.

  He stopped the truck, bent, and kissed her again with breathless tenderness. "You've known me half your life, Janie," he said, and he was serious. He searched her wor­ried eyes. "Am I the kind of man who takes advantage of a green girl?"

  She was worried, too. "No," she had to admit.

  His breathing was uneven as he studied her flushed face.

  "I never would," he agreed. "You were special to me even before I kissed you the first time, in your own kitchen." His head bent again. His mouth trailed across hers in soft, biting little kisses that made her moan. "But now, after the taste of you I've just had, I'm going to be your shadow. You don't even realize what's happened, do you?"

  "You want me," she said huskily.

  His teeth nibbled her upper lip. "It's a little more com­plicated than sex." He kissed her again, hard, and lifted his head with flattering reluctance. "Look up addiction in the dictionary," he mused. "It's an eye-opener."

  "Addiction?"

  His nose brushed hers. "Do you remember how you moaned when I put my hands inside your blouse?"

  She swallowed. "Yes."

  "Now think how it would feel if I'd put my mouth on your breast, right over the nipple."

  She shivered.

  He nodded slowly. "Next time," he promised, his voice taut and hungry. "You have that to look forward to. Mean­while, you keep your eyes and ears open, and don't do anything at work that gives Clark a hint that you're watch­ing him," he added firmly.

  "I'll be careful," she promised unsteadily.

  His eyes were possessive on her soft face. “If he touches you, I'll kill him."

  It sounded like a joke. It wasn't. She'd never seen that look in a man's eyes before. In fact, the way he was watch­ing her was a little scary.

  His big hand slid under her nape and brought her mouth just under his. "You belong to me, Janie," he whispered as his head moved down. "Your first man is going to be me. Believe it!"

  The kiss was as arousing as it was tender, but it didn't last long. He forced himself to let her go, to move away. He started the truck again, put it in gear, and went back down the farm road. But his hand reached for hers invol­untarily, his fingers curling into hers, as if he couldn't bear to lose contact with her. She didn't know it, but he'd reached a decision in those few seconds. There was no going back now.

  Jack Clark did show up in the bar, on the following Fri­day night.

  Janie hadn't told any of the people she worked with about him, feeling that any mention of what she knew about him might jeopardize her safety.

  But she did keep a close eye on him. The man was rangy and uncouth. He sat alone at a corner table, looking around as if he expected trouble and was impatient for it to arrive.

  A cowboy from Cy Parks's spread, one of Harley Fowler's men, walked to the counter and sat down, ordering a beer and a pizza.

  "Hey, Miss Janie," he said with a grin that showed a missing front tooth. "Harley said to tell you he'd be in soon to see you."

  "That's sweet of him," she said with a grin. "I'll just put your order in, Ned."

  She scribbled the order on a slip of green paper and put it up on the long string for Nick, the teenage cook, with a clothespin.

  "Where's my damned whiskey?" Clark shouted. "I been sitting here five minutes waiting for it!"

  Janie winced as Nick glanced at her and shrugged, in­dicating the pizza list he was far behind on. He'd taken the order and got busy all of a sudden. Tiny was nowhere in sight. He was probably out back having a cigarette. Nick was up to his elbows in dough and pizza sauce. Janie had to get Clark's order, there was nobody else to do it.

  She got down a shot glass, poured whiskey into it, and put it on one of the small serving trays.

  She took it to Clark's table and forced a smile to her lips. "Here you are, sir," she said, placing the shot glass in front of him. "I'm sorry it took so long."

  Clark glared up at her from watery blue eyes. "Don't let that happen again. I don't like to be kept waiting."

  "Yes, sir," she agreed.

  She turned away, but he caught her apron strings and jerked her back. She caught her breath as his hand slid to the ones tied at her waist.

  "You're kind of cute. Why don't you sit on my lap and help me drink this?" he drawled.

  He was already half-lit, she surmised. She would have refused him the whiskey, if Tiny had been close by, despite the trouble he'd already caused. But now she was caught and she didn't know how to get away. All her worst fears were coming to haunt her.

  "I have to get that man's drink," she pointed to Harley's cowboy. "I'll come right back, okay?"

  "That boy can get his drink."

  "He's making pizza," she protested. "Please."

  That
was a mistake. He liked it when women begged. He smiled at her. It wasn't a pleasant smile. "I said, come here!"

  He jerked her down on his thin, bony legs and she screamed.

  In a flash, two cowboys were on their feet and heading toward Clark, both of them dangerous looking.

  "Well, looky, looky, you've got guardian angels in cow­boy boots!" Clark chuckled. He stood up, dragging Janie with him. "Stay back," he warned, catching her hair in its braid. "Or else." He slapped her, hard, across the face, making her cry out, and his hand went into his pocket and came out with a knife. He flicked it and a blade appeared. He caught her around the shoulders from behind and bran­dished the knife. "Stay back, boys," he said again. "Or I'll cut her!"

  The knife pressed against her throat. She was shaking.

  She remembered all the nice self-defense moves she'd ever learned in her life from watching television or listening to her father talk. Now, she knew how useless they were. Clark would cut her throat if those men tried to help her. She had visions of him dragging her outside and assaulting her. He could do anything. There was nobody around to stop him. These cowboys weren't going to rush him and risk her life. If only Leo were here!

  She was vaguely aware of Nick sliding out of sight to­ward the telephones. If he could just call the sheriff, the police, anybody!

  Her hands went to Clark's wrist, trying to get him to release the press of the blade.

  "You're hurting," she choked.

  "Really?" He pressed harder.

  Janie felt his arm cutting off the blood to her head. Then she remembered something she'd heard of a female victim doing during an attack. If she fainted, he might turn her loose.

  "Can't...breathe..." she gasped, and closed her eyes. He might drop her if she sagged, he might cut her throat. She could die. But they'd get him. That would almost be worth it...

  She let her body sag just as she heard a shout from the doorway. She pretended to lose consciousness. In the next few hectic seconds, Clark threw her to the floor so hard that she hit right on her elbow and her head, and groaned aloud with the pain of impact.

  At the same moment, Leo Hart and Harley Fowler ex­ploded into the room from the front door and went right for Clark, knife and all. They'd been in the parking lot, talking about Janie's situation, and had come running when they heard the commotion.