Books By Diana Palmer

by Palmer, Diana

  "That isn't good enough. Maude isn't always here, and you'll be away from the ranch for a time every day going to school."

  "Cash gave me his cell phone," she added, producing it from her pocket to show it to him. "I can call him any time and he'll come."

  The look on his face was difficult to assess. He wiped it clean of expression while she was trying to understand it.

  "Make sure you've got one of the men along from now on when you ride fence, and carry the gun he's teaching you to shoot."

  She stopped and turned. "Which man should I take along? Ex­cept for Nick, we only have three left, all part-timers," she said flatly. "Economy is becoming a religion around here. When I finish this semester," she added, "I'm going to quit school and get a job. I'm tired of wearing the same jeans for three years and not having enough cash to buy a single new dress!"

  His high cheekbones went ruddy. He didn't say a word, but she knew he understood what she was saying. He didn't think she knew about the ring. But he knew that she economized everywhere, while he was spending his savings to buy expen­sive rings for his new girl.

  "An education is..." he began.

  "A luxury, under the circumstances," she returned, moving away. "The way I feel right now, we could put the ranch on the market and forget trying to make ends meet forever! I'm sick of struggling all the time!"

  She went into the house in a blue fury. Tippy Moore had opened her mouth to speak and shut it instantly when she saw Christabel's furious dark eyes. She'd heard what was said outside, and she wanted to know more. But Christabel went to her room and closed the door. Judd got into his SUV and sped away without coming inside. Maude, caught between them, just sighed and made more coffee. They didn't need it, but she had to have something to do.

  Of course, Crissy couldn't stay in her room forever. She came out for supper. Surprisingly, the film crew was still there, but about to leave.

  Tippy Moore gave her a strange look, one that took in the age and wear of the jeans and blouse she was wearing, and the peel­ing paint on the door facings, and the yellow spots on the ceil­ing of the hall that indicated a leak.

  "Did you want something, Miss Moore?" Crissy asked curtly.

  Tippy sighed. "I didn't realize how hard things were for you here," she began.

  "My ranch is not your business," Crissy replied tersely.

  "It soon might be, though," came the slow reply. For good measure, Tippy turned the emerald and diamond ring. She was wearing it on her engagement finger.

  Crissy felt sick all over. So Judd was considering marriage. Well, he'd better get the annulment first, she thought with black humor.

  "Your crew is leaving," Crissy pointed out to the model.

  "Oh, Judd usually takes me back to town," she returned, her voice almost a purr.

  Even as she spoke, Crissy heard the familiar sound of the en­gine in Judd's SUV. She didn't say another word. She went into the kitchen and busied herself helping Maude fix potatoes, so that she wouldn't have to see Judd again.

  Tippy went out to greet Judd, gathering his arm into both per­fectly manicured hands. "I wondered if you were coming back. Miss Gaines has been in her room all afternoon pouting, after the argument you had," she added lightly. "My, my, she is fright­fully immature, isn't she?"

  He hesitated, but only for a second. He went out with Tippy, got in the vehicle with her and drove away.

  Judd's visits after that coincided with Crissy's hours at school, and he knew her schedule quite well. It was the second week of November. Her birthday was Friday. In all the years she and Judd had been married, he'd made a point of taking her out to eat on her birthday and presenting her with some small present—usu­ally something practical, like a program for her computer or an audio CD that she wanted.

  They'd argued, but she didn't expect that he'd forget, even under the circumstances. She had just a little money put back for an emergency, but now she took it out and went to the local de­partment store. If Judd could buy diamond and emerald rings for his girlfriend, Crissy was entitled to one new dress in two years. She bought a soft blue one that fell in graceful folds to her an­kles from a tight waist and low-cut bodice. It had puffy sleeves and there was a big wispy scarf that matched it. She would wear her hair down, she thought, and put it up in curlers so that it would look perfect for her one night out a year with Judd.

  But by Friday, she hadn't heard a word from him. In fact, she made a point of skipping class that day at lunch, so she'd have a chance to remind him that it was her birthday—just in case he'd forgotten. But he didn't come Friday. In fact, Tippy Moore didn't show up for work, either.

  It was too much of a coincidence for Crissy. With a worried Maude standing nearby, she went right up to Gary Mays, the as­sistant director, and asked him point-blank where Tippy was.

  "She's up in Victoria today, with Judd," he told her with thinly veiled sarcasm. "They were having a retirement party for one of the local law enforcement people, and Tippy volunteered to go with Judd. Bachelors in the department were doing cart­wheels, last I heard," he added. "Tippy said Judd was delighted that she wanted to go with him."

  "Thanks," Crissy said with a wan smile.

  "He didn't say anything about Crissy?" Maude asked.

  Gary was looking at the script with the continuity assistant. He scowled. "Why should he have?" he asked absently.

  Crissy turned away. "There's no reason at all."

  "Crissy," Maude began, full of quiet sympathy.

  "I'm okay, Maude," she said and forced a smile. "He'll send me a card or something."

  She went down the hall to her room without another word. She was furious and on the verge of tears. That model was ru­ining her life, her future, all her hopes. She could have thrown things. But what good would it do now? If Judd cared so much for Tippy that he'd forgotten Crissy's twenty-first birthday, there was just no hope left.

  And it didn't take long to sink in that Judd didn't mean to take her out at all. He didn't even phone her to ask her plans for her birthday, or to wish her a happy one.

  Grier drove up in his big pickup truck just before sundown on Friday, an hour after the film crew had packed up for the weekend and gone. He looked preoccupied, and he grimaced when Crissy came out to meet him on the long front porch.

  She could see bad news in his face. Her own fell. "Okay, spill it," she said with a half-hearted smile. "I can see it's not some­thing you're dying to tell me."

  “Got any coffee?" he asked.

  "Stalling won't help, but yes, I have some coffee. Come on in." She led him inside, and down the hall to the kitchen. "Maude's spending the night with her sister, so I'm cooking sup­per. Nothing fancy, just an omelette. Want to share?"

  "I haven't eaten since eleven this morning," he murmured, pulling out a chair to straddle. "If you don't mind the company, I'd love to."

  She smiled, and this time it wasn't half-hearted. "I'll make cinnamon toast to go with it."

  He smiled back, although it looked more like a grimace. He didn't have much practice smiling in recent years. It was still difficult, even with Crissy.

  He waited until they finished the short meal before he spoke. Crissy had just poured them both second cups of coffee and he'd put cream in his, stirring it far too long with the spoon, when she propped her chin on her hands and stared at him pointedly.

  He frowned. "Okay, here it is, straight from the shoulder. Judd's taking Tippy to the retirement party in Victoria tonight. I thought you should hear it from me before somebody else let it slip."

  "Oh, I already knew, Cash," she replied. "The assistant di­rector told me."

  He sighed heavily. "I'm sorry, kid," he said gruffly.

  "It's the first time in five years that he's forgotten my birth­day. I bought a new dress, just to wear out tonight. I'm twenty-one today," she said slowly.

  "You are?" he asked, surprised. "And Judd went off with Tippy?"

  She laughed. "I suppose he forgot. He's spent so much time w
ith her lately...you'd never guess he was a married man, would you? Of course he wouldn't want to take me to any retirement party," she rationalized. "I'm just a kid, like you said. He'd want someone pretty and sophisticated and famous to show off to his friends, not a country hick of a tomboy who has trouble know­ing which utensil to use."

  "You're no country hick," Grier said forcibly. "Listen here, don't you take this personally. I imagine he thinks he's keeping it from you, that you won't find out." He crossed his long legs and leaned back in the chair with his coffee. "Maybe I shouldn't have told you. Maybe you wouldn't have known otherwise."

  "You don't think Tippy wouldn't enjoy rubbing it in when she comes back with the film crew next week?" she mused. "At least now, she won't hit me with it when I'm not expecting it."

  "If you'd like to go, I'll take you," he told her with a wicked smile. "I used to work with the guy who's retiring, and I was in­vited, too."

  She smiled back. It was tempting. But even if he played fast and loose with her heart, Crissy couldn't embarrass Judd that way, not after all he'd done for her over the years.

  "No," she said, shaking her head. "I don't play that sort of game. I'm not really a vindictive person."

  "I know that," he said curtly. "It makes it hard to hurt you."

  She searched his handsome face with a grin. "You're a nice man, Cash Grier," she said softly.

  He lifted both eyebrows and his dark eyes twinkled. "That's a new one. I guess I've been called everything else at least once."

  "Well, anyway, since I'm twenty-one now Judd and I can get a quiet annulment next week, and nobody will ever know we were married in the first place. I get my half of the ranch," she continued doggedly, "he keeps his half, and he gets his freedom, so that he can marry his redheaded ideal woman."

  Grier studied her surreptitiously and thought that, in Judd's place, his freedom would be the last thing he'd want. This little morsel had a heart as big as all outdoors and she didn't put on airs or play mind games. She was honest and brave and thought­ful. He was sorry there was such an age difference between them.

  "Why do you look so morose?" she teased.

  He studied her under narrowed eyelids. "I was wishing I was younger."

  She smiled without guile. "Were you? Why?"

  He laughed. She didn't have a clue about her own attractions. "Nothing. Just a passing thought." He checked the complicated watch he wore on his left wrist. "I've got a few things to do be­fore quitting time at five." He frowned. "You said Maude had gone to her sister's. Who's staying in the house with you?"

  "Nobody, of course. But Maude will be back first thing to­morrow."

  He didn't like that. It was careless of Judd, especially after the threats made by Jack Clark.

  "You're worried," she said. "Why?"

  He was reluctant to tell her, and it showed. "Jack Clark has sworn in front of at least one witness that he intends to make you pay for pulling a gun on him."

  "Wasn't trying to have me arrested enough?" she asked face­tiously.

  "It isn't funny, Crissy," he replied.

  "No, it isn't, but right now, it's just another drop in the mis­ery pool," she told him. "My life isn't coming up roses, lately."

  "I want you to be paranoid about locking doors and windows at night, even when Maude's here. If any strange vehicle comes up in the yard, make sure you know who's in it before you go rushing out. Keep that pistol handy. The film crew's due out here again next week, right?"

  "Right. Bright and early Monday morning. I'm sure Tippy Moore can't wait to rub my nose in her evening out with Judd on my birthday," she said with a heavy sigh.

  "You do have ranch hands around here, don't you?"

  She felt her knees go weak. She'd never had to worry about intruders before. It was an old Victorian house with long, low windows and not much security. She eyed the gun on the table. "Right now, we have three part-time cowboys," she murmured, "and Nick, our foreman. Judd hired him." She looked up. "He worked for the Georgia Bureau of Investigation just out of col­lege, before he moved to Texas, and he's a dead shot."

  "Good. That relieves my mind, a little. Will they all be around this weekend?"

  She blinked. "Some of them. Nick, definitely. He never goes off much."

  Cash didn't look convinced. He finished the last swallow of his coffee and stood up. He took out a card, flipped it over on the table, pulled a pen from his shirt pocket and wrote a num­ber on the back. He slid it across to Crissy.

  "That's my other cell phone number. I keep the second phone with me all the time, and it's never turned off," he added solemnly. "If you need me, day or night, you call me. Even if I'm off duty, at the very least, I can have the Jacobsville police out here in three minutes flat, if it takes me a little longer to get here. Okay?"

  She felt touched by the gesture. She knew Grier had a repu­tation as a man who didn't make friends easily. In his new po­sition as assistant police chief in Jacobsville he was already making enemies at city hall with his hard-nosed attitude toward drug offenders. But Crissy adored him. He was like family. He'd already done more for her than anyone except Judd.

  She smiled at him warmly. "Thanks, Cash," she said softly. "I really mean that."

  He walked to the front door with her trailing his footsteps. He opened the door and turned, silhouetted against the dusk. "Happy birthday, Crissy," he said gently, and bent to touch his hard mouth to her cheek. "I'm sorry it isn't going to be a hap­pier one."

  She smiled up at him. "There are a couple of new movies I've wanted to see for a long time. I think I'll treat myself to the show."

  "Alone? At night?" He hesitated. "Listen, you can't go out alone. I haven't been to a ballet in years," he said abruptly.

  "There's one in Houston. I can get tickets at a minute's notice. Take me along on your birthday outing. I'll buy you supper, too."

  Her face brightened. "You're serious? You don't have plans for tonight?"

  He burst out laughing. "I don't have plans for any night," he confessed. "I have a hard time...with women, these days. I've got too many rough edges to suit most of them."

  Her eyes softened. "No you don't. I love going out with you, even just fishing or having a hamburger in town."

  The change in him was surprising. He almost flushed. He cleared his throat. "Well, okay, then. We'll go to the ballet and you can wear your new dress. I'll pick you up at five-thirty."

  She smiled from ear to ear. "I'll be ready!"

  He stopped on the steps and turned around again. "If you'd rather see a play, I'm game."

  "Oh, but I've never been to a ballet!" she protested. "I'd love to see one!"

  "Never?" he asked, aghast.

  "It never came up," she said weakly, realizing how unworldly she was.

  He pursed his lips. "Then the ballet it is. There'll be a sym­phony orchestra playing for it. Culture is important. It connects us to the past."

  Her eyes twinkled. "I thought rodeo was culture," she teased.

  He chuckled. "In some circles, it's the only one."

  She smiled. "Thanks, Cash!"

  He shrugged. "Can't let a nice young woman like you turn twenty-one and not celebrate, can we?" And he was gone.

  So, instead of staying home and eating her heart out because Judd didn't want to take her out on her twenty-first birthday, she dressed for Grier instead. When she looked in her mirror, she had to admit that she didn't look too bad. The soft blue dress emphasized her nice figure in a conventional way, and she had the pretty wispy blue scarf to drape over the puffy sleeves that held up the low-cut bodice. The high heels arched her pretty feet at an alluring angle and she liked the cut of the dress, which came to her ankles. It was perfect for the ballet. She wore her hair up in a sophisticated topknot.

  What made her saddest was that Judd hadn't even called to wish her a happy birthday. She checked the answering phone's unblinking front every few minutes, to make sure she hadn't missed a call. She thought about picking it up and liste
ning to the dial tone, to make sure it was working, but that would be just too juvenile. If he wanted to ignore her most important birth­day, let him. She'd go out with Grier and have a very nice time.

  It amused her, and pleased her, that a man like Grier would be willing to spend a boring evening with someone like her. She didn't doubt that he could have gotten any woman he wanted to go on a date with him. He was very attractive, and unless she missed her guess, very experienced with women.

  He showed up in exactly one hour, wearing a dark suit with his wavy black hair loose instead of in its usual pigtail and his mustache and the black goatee under his full lower lip perfectly trimmed. His hair came past his collar, neatly trimmed, empha­sizing his muscular neck. He looked very European like that, his olive complexion shown to its best advantage above the fine white cotton shirt and subdued blue patterned tie he was wear­ing. His black dress shoes were polished so well that they re­flected the porch ceiling.

  "Wow," she said softly, because she'd never seen him dressed up.

  He smiled sheepishly. "Thanks. You're not bad yourself." His eyes punctuated the compliment, as they ran over her like an artist's brush. "Ready to go?"

  "Just have to lock the door." She did, joining him at the steps.

  "How about the windows?" he asked suddenly.

  "All secure," she assured him. "I spent the afternoon making sure the locks were in place, and I reinforced them with some broomsticks I had one of the men cut to size for me."

  "Smart lady."

  She grinned. "Speaking of security, I hope you're packing, be­cause I don't have anyplace to carry a gun."

  "I'll second that," he chuckled. "You won't find a cop in the country who doesn't travel armed. Not in these times."

  "That's what I thought."

  "Judd holds the fastest time for the quick-draw in north Texas," he recalled. "Marc Brannon has it in south Texas. I've always wondered who'd win in a contest."

  "I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end from either of them," she said as he helped her into the car. She didn't want to talk about Judd. It was taking all she could do to shut him out as it was.