Books By Diana Palmer

by Palmer, Diana

  "Not a boy from school," he guessed. His eyes narrowed again. "Are we going to play twenty questions? Tell me!" he said abruptly.

  "It's Cash Grier," she blurted out, disconcerted by the au­thority in his tone.

  Now he looked menacing as well as angry. "Grier is even older than I am, and he's got a past I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy's sister, much less you! You're not leaving the house with a man like that!"

  Her self-confidence was wilting. She clutched her small purse to her chest. "I'm not running away with him," she began, try­ing to recapture lost ground. "We're going out for pizza and beer..."

  "You're underage."

  "I know that! I'm not drinking the beer, he is," she muttered. "We're going to dance and eat pizza!'

  His eyes slid over her very slowly. She felt as if he were stroking her bare skin and she felt wobbly on the unaccustomed high heels.

  "Where did you meet Grier?" he persisted.

  She threw up her hands and walked back into the house, leav­ing him to follow. Obviously, he wasn't going to stop until he knew everything. She wondered what he meant about Cash's past. Cash himself had hinted at something unpleasant.

  She tossed her purse and mantilla onto the big easy chair and perched herself on its wide arm, crossing her legs at the ankles. Odd, how intent his eyes were on them for a few seconds.

  "He came out here to talk to you about providing on-site se­curity for the movie people," she said. "You weren't here, so I gave him coffee and pie and he asked me out."

  He leaned against the doorjamb and stared at her from under the low-angled brim of his creamy Stetson. He looked elegant like that, and so sexy that she ached just looking at him. He had powerful long legs in nice-fitting jeans that did nothing to dis­guise the muscles in them. The .45 automatic he usually carried was in its new holster, replacing the revolver he'd used in the cowboy club shooting match. It sported the new maple handle and the Texas Ranger logo. His white shirt was taut against a muscular chest, a dark shadow under it giving hints about the thick curling dark hair that covered those hard muscles. The Texas Ranger star was on the pocket of that spotless white shirt. Usually he wore a jacket with it this time of year, but it was hot for early October. There was a faint line of perspiration on his top lip.

  "He isn't taking you to Shea's," he said tautly.

  Her eyebrows arched. "Why not? Judd, I'm almost twenty-one," she reminded him. "Most of my friends have been going there on Friday nights for years. It's not a bad place. They just sell beer."

  "They have fistfights. Once, there was a shooting out there."

  "They've had two bouncers since Calhoun Ballenger almost wrecked the place protecting his wife, Abby, before they were married. That was years ago, Judd!"

  "The shooting was last year," he pointed out.

  She sighed. "Cash is a police officer. He carries a gun. If any­body tries to shoot me, I'm sure he'll shoot back."

  He knew that. He also knew things about Grier that he wasn't comfortable disclosing. The man would take care of her, cer­tainly, but Judd didn't like the idea of Christabel going out with another man. It bothered him that it did. "It doesn't look right."

  Her eyes met his, and she felt the years of loneliness making a heavy place inside her. "I go to school, I do the books, I check up on the boys while they're working, I ride fence lines and help dip and brand cattle and doctor sick ones," she said. "I haven't been to a dance since my sophomore year of high school, and I don't guess I've had a real date yet. I'm lonely, Judd. What can it hurt to let me go out dancing? We're only married on paper, anyway. You don't want me. You said so."

  He knew that. It didn't help.

  She got up from the sofa and went to him. Even in high heels, he towered over her. She looked up into his turbulent dark eyes. "I'm only going out for one evening," she pointed out. "Don't make me feel like I'm committing adultery. You know me bet­ter than that."

  He drew in a long breath. Involuntarily, his lean hand went to her loosened hair and he gathered a thick strand of it in his fin­gers, testing its silky softness. "I've never seen you dressed like this."

  "I can't go out with a man like Grier wearing jeans and a sweatshirt," she said with a gamine smile.

  He frowned. "What do you mean, a man like Grier?"

  She lifted one shoulder, uneasy at the contact of his fingers that was making her whole body tingle, and trying to hide it. She could even feel the heat of his body this close, and smell the spicy oriental aftershave he liked to wear. "He's a very mature, sophisticated sort of person. I didn't want to embarrass him by showing up in my working gear."

  He frowned. "I've never taken you anywhere," he recalled.

  She blinked, disconcerted. "You saved my life," she pointed out. "Saved the ranch. Kept us all going, looked out for me and Mama while she was alive. You're still shouldering the bulk of the responsibility for running things around here. You didn't need to start taking on responsibility for my entertainment as well, for heaven's sake!"

  He frowned at the way she put it, as if everything he did for her was a chore, an obligation. She almost glowed when she smiled. She had a pert, sexy little figure, even if she didn't know it. She had such warmth inside her that he always felt good when he was with her. Was Grier, with his cold, dark past, re­acting similarly to the brightness in Christabel? Was he looking for a place to warm his cold heart?

  She'd agreed to go out with the man. Was she attracted to him? He, of all men, knew how very innocent she was. She'd con­sidered her paper wedding vows binding. He doubted if she'd ever really kissed anyone, or been kissed, unless you could call that cool peck on the cheek he gave her in the probate judge's office a kiss. He thought about Grier, a ladies' man if there ever was one, kissing her passionately.

  "No," he said involuntarily. "Hell, no!"

  "What?" she queried, puzzled by the look on his face.

  He moved, one of those lightning-fast motions that could even intimidate their cowboys. His lean hands framed her rounded face and tugged it up so that her dark eyes were meet­ing his at a proximity they'd never shared.

  "Not Grier," he said huskily, his eyes falling to her parted, full lips. "Not the first time..."

  While she was trying to get enough breath to ask him what he was talking about, he bent his head. She felt the slow, easy brush of his hard mouth on her lips with real intent for the first time in their turbulent relationship.

  She gasped and stiffened.

  He lifted his head just enough to see the shock and puzzle­ment in her eyes. "Just so you don't go overboard with the first man who kisses you, Christabel," he whispered with unusual roughness in his voice. "I'm your husband. The first time...it should be me."

  She opened her mouth to speak but he bent his head again be­fore she could. His lips crushed down over hers with a pressure that grew more intense, more demanding, by the second. She clutched at his arms to save herself from falling as sensation piled on sensation. She felt a surge of heat in her lower body, along with a sudden heavy throb that made her shiver. She won­dered if he could feel it, while she could still think.

  His hands went to her waist and slid up and down, his thumbs brushing just under the soft underside of her breasts, in a lazy, arousing pattern that made her want to lift up toward them. She went up on tiptoe, pushing her mouth against his, opening her lips to his hungry demand. She felt a vibration against her lips, something like a muffled groan, just before his arms suddenly swallowed her and lifted her into the hard curve of his body.

  Her arms were around his neck now, holding on for dear life, while his mouth probed at hers and she felt his tongue suddenly go right inside it. She'd heard and read about deep kisses. None of that prepared her for the sensations she felt. She was trem­bling. She didn't know why, and she couldn't stop it. He was going to feel it any minute. She moaned in frustration at her own inability to control her reactions. Inexplicably, the moan made him stiffen. One lean hand went to her hips and gathered them in fier
cely to the thrust of his body. There was something alien about the feel of him, something vaguely threatening. He pushed her closer and she gasped as she realized what was happening.

  He realized it at the same time and jerked away from her. He didn't let her go at once. His eyes were blacker than usual as they pierced her own.

  Her mouth was swollen. Her eyes were shocked, stunned, dazed, delighted. She was shivering just slightly. Her breath came in husky little jerks. He looked down, at the bodice of her blouse, and saw hard little points.

  His eyes met hers again. His hands were almost bruising on her upper arms as he held her there. "That's how easy it is," he said tersely.

  "How...easy?" she parroted breathlessly.

  "For an experienced man to knock you off balance and make you give in to him," he continued. "Grier knows even more than I do. Don't let him get too close. He's not a marrying man. In any case, you're not free to experiment, paper marriage or not."

  She wasn't getting any of it. She just looked at him, com­pletely disoriented. She'd never dreamed that he'd kiss her like that. He'd sworn in the past that he was never going to touch her. She felt hot and shaky all over. She wanted to lie down with him. She wanted to touch his skin. She wanted him to kiss her breasts, the way men kissed women in those shameful late-night satel­lite movies that she watched secretly when Maude had gone to bed on the weekends.

  "Are you listening to me?" he asked impatiently.

  Her head fell back against his shoulder. She pressed one cold hand to his chest and moved it back and forth involuntarily.

  "I'm listening. This dress is really hot. Could you help me take it off...?" she whispered wickedly.

  He glared down at her. "Stop that," he said curtly. "I'm try­ing to talk to you."

  Her eyes were half-closed, her body completely yielding. She felt as if she'd melted into him, become part of him. She won­dered what it would feel like to lie under him on a bed. She red­dened at the images that had flashed unexpectedly into her mind. Judd, in bed with her, stark naked and hungry for her. Heavens, she'd have died for it!

  Her hunger for him was in her face. It amazed him that she was so immediately receptive to him, so hungry. He hadn't meant to touch her in the first place. It was Grier, damn him. He was uneasy about having her go out with Grier. He didn't trust the man. It disturbed him that this sudden relationship of hers had happened under his nose and without his knowledge. In his wildest dreams, he'd never expected that Grier could be drawn to a woman Christabel's age. He didn't trust Grier's motives, and he didn't want Christabel seduced. He was going to have to talk to Grier.

  He watched her while his mind worked. She was still shiver­ing faintly. He knew how she felt. He felt the same way. His body ached. He'd never expected such an explosive passion to flare up between them. He should never have touched her. He'd been stupid to let jealousy provoke him into it. He hoped she didn't know enough to see how susceptible he was to her. He moved back a step, just in case.

  She took a step forward. "I can rush right to town and buy a red negligee," she said breathlessly. "I'll borrow one. Steal one. There's a bed only ten feet away...!"

  "I told you that we were never going to have any sort of phys­ical relationship," he said with ice dripping from every syllable.

  "You started it," she reminded him glibly.

  "I did it deliberately. I know Grier. You haven't dated," he said through his teeth. "You know nothing about men, and that's my fault. You can't go out with a man like Grier without knowing the dangers. It was a lesson, Christabel. Just a lesson!"

  She was staring at him. Just staring, as all her dreams of be­longing and being loved in return went up in smoke. She'd al­ways thought of Judd as being very fastidious about women. But innocence could recognize experience, and she knew at once that she was completely out of his league. She didn't do a thing for him. He'd only been showing her what a trap passion could be. But it felt different now when she looked at him.

  "Have you heard a word I've said?" he asked, exasperated.

  "A few, here and there," she said, but she was looking at his mouth. "I'm not sure I understand the lesson completely. Could you do that again...?"

  He took an angry breath and his lips flattened. He could taste her on them. That irritated him even more.

  "No, I couldn't do it again!" he raged, furious. "Listen to me, damn it! We are getting an annulment in November, period! I don't want marriage and a family. I love my job, and my free­dom, and I'm not giving up either one. Is that clear?"

  Breaking out of her trance, she moved away from him. Yes, it was painfully clear. But she smiled deliberately, anyway. Her voice, like her breathing, was jerky. "Okay. It's a great loss to my education, but if you feel that way, just don't expect me to offer to take my clothes off for you ever again. I'll fix some cof­fee if you'd like some," she added. "Cash isn't due for thirty min­utes."

  "Fine."

  She went to the kitchen and made coffee. It calmed her. By the time she put a cup and saucer on the table, along with the condiments, her hands had stopped shaking.

  "Do you want it in the study?" she called.

  "No. I'll drink it in here." He moved into the room and sat down at the small kitchen table. He'd removed his hat and rolled up his sleeves. His hair was still mussed from her restless, hun­gry fingers, and his mouth, like hers, had a slight swell from the urgency of the kisses they'd shared.

  Grier was going to notice that, he mused. Perhaps it would make him hesitate. He wondered why he felt so arrogant when he looked at her now. It felt almost like possession. He clamped down hard on those thoughts. He didn't want to be married. He wasn't ready for family life. Infrequent liaisons were enough for him. Love was dangerous, and he wanted no part of it. He'd seen it destroy his father, and he knew that women had no staying power. His mother had left his father. Judd's one serious love interest had walked out on him ten years ago when he refused to give up his hazardous job for her. It was just as well to avoid tangles. Christabel was very young...

  "You're very solemn," she pointed out.

  "I don't want you to get the wrong idea about what just hap­pened," he said, pinning her with his eyes.

  "I'm not dim," she told him. She avoided looking directly at him. She was too shaken to hide her emotions. "You said it was only a lesson. I hadn't planned to jump into the back seat with Grier and have my way with him, you know."

  He cleared his throat. "He drives a pickup. There is no back seat."

  She glared at him. "You know what I mean!"

  "And it's not you jumping on him that worries me."

  She lifted both eyebrows. "Why not? Do you think I wouldn't know how? I do know what goes on between men and women, even if I'm not the voice of experience!"

  "I know," he murmured dryly.

  "Excuse me?"

  He cleared his throat again. "I pay the satellite bill."

  She was very still. That had never occurred to her before.

  He cocked his head. "The titles are self-explanatory. Passion­ate Partners, Lust in the Sand, The Curious Virgin...shall I go on?"

  She groaned and put her face in her hands.

  "Just remember that what you're watching is staged and pure fantasy," he pointed out. "It's not like that in real life."

  She moved two of her fingers and looked at him through them, curiously.

  He leaned back, feeling his experience keenly as he met that glance. "Two kisses and a pat, and they go at it endlessly with accompanying groans and tormented expressions, in positions that even the Kama Sutra hasn't listed," he explained.

  She was still watching, listening, waiting.

  He let out a long sigh. "Christabel, a woman doesn't accept a man's body that quickly, or that easily, without a lot of fore-play. And most men can't last long enough to go through the whole catalog of outrageous positions. One usually suffices."

  She was fiery red, but paying complete attention while trying not to look as if she was. And he was
aching to show her, rather than tell her, how satisfying a physical coming-together could be. All at once, he felt things he didn't want to feel. And for the one woman on earth who was off limits to him, even if she was the only wife he'd ever had.

  He finished his coffee and glared at her. "I don't mind if you go out with Grier, as long as you're discreet," he said, hating the words even as he spoke them with deliberate carelessness. His black eyes pinned hers. "But you don't cross the line with him."

  She knew exactly what he meant and she was insulted. "As if I would, Judd!"

  "Until it's annulled, it's still a marriage," he continued. "And a few people around town know about it."

  "I understand why you're so worried about gossip..." she began, and then bit her tongue, because it was a subject he hated.

  His chin lifted and his eyes narrowed dangerously. "My fa­ther was a minister," he said roughly. "Can you imagine how it was for him, and for me, to have all of Jacobsville talking about my mother and her blatant affair with the vice president of the local manufacturing company? They didn't even try to hide it. She moved in with him and lived with him openly while she was still married to my father. Everybody knew. His whole congre­gation knew, and he had to preach every Sunday. When her lover dropped her for someone younger, after he'd had his fill of the affair, she begged to come home again and pretend that it never happened. My father even tried to let her."

  He averted his eyes to the table, cold with the memory of how those days had been for him. He'd loved his mother. But his fa­ther, despite his faith, had been unable to forget what she'd done. In his world, as in Judd's, vows were sacred. "In the end, it was the gossip that made it impossible for him to forget. It didn't stop, even after she left her lover. Some of his congrega­tion refused to speak to her. It affected him, even though he tried not to let it. In the end, he asked her to leave, and she went, with­out an argument."

  "You were only twelve when that happened, weren't you?" she asked gently, trying to get him to talk about it. He never had.