by Sharon Sala
Jenny shrugged. It was to be expected. She’d go along for now. Maybe this one would be the trigger to ending Chance’s patience. She couldn’t believe he would let her marry someone else. Although she had no intention of letting it come to that, he didn’t know that. And she knew of no other way to break down his defenses.
Nelson didn’t even try to hide his elation.
Less than an hour later, Chance watched the couple leave. He stood on the front porch of the bunkhouse and watched the sequins sparkle on her dress. He heard the laughter in the man’s voice as he called back to Marcus, who was waving good-bye.
The pain that swept over him was almost more than he could bear. He staggered backward until his boot heels hit the side of the bunkhouse and stopped his momentum.
“Damn your sorry soul to hell, Logan Henry. If you’d only stayed on your side of the tracks…” The bitter regret echoed in his soft whisper, resurrecting a ghost who should have stayed buried.
Just for an instant, Chance felt the pain, and the shame. He closed his eyes and, once again, saw the blood, the fresh earth covering the grave…and felt the fire.
He leaned his head against the wall, balled his fingers into fists and, as he turned to go inside, swung viciously toward a face that hovered in his mind. Knuckles rasped angrily against the rough wood of the house as flesh instantly gave way to blood that flowed. But he didn’t care. The pain in his heart was far worse.
Jenny returned with daybreak. By afternoon, at Nelson’s persistent insistence, they’d gone riding. She was showing him her world and exactly what was expected from the future heir to this dusty empire.
Her heart was heavy, her smile a pasted affair that grew stiffer and less frequent as the day progressed. But she stood her ground.
She knew Chance saw everything they did and that kept her going. If he would just get jealous enough to make a move…
She caught herself daydreaming just in time to dodge a low-hanging tree branch. But her sharp warning was not enough to save Nelson from a bump on the head. His near-hysterical reaction made the horse bolt and it was only through skilled riding that Jenny saved him from a hard tumble into a ditch. His unreasonable anger and acute discomfort mirrored obvious incompetence. It only reminded her how out of place this man was on a ranch.
They rode into the stable area. Jenny was leading Nelson’s horse as he held a handkerchief to his head to stem the flow of blood. She stared pointedly at Henry who sauntered out to take their horses, and breathed a sigh of relief as the older man wisely made no mention of the wound. She looked around, hoping for a glimpse of Chance. He was nowhere in sight.
She sighed, swung her leg over the saddle horn and slid to the ground, then helped Nelson down from his mount.
“Have a good ride, Jenny?” Henry asked.
She sent Henry a frown he promptly ignored. “It was fine.” She grabbed Nelson by the elbow, herding him toward the house before any more remarks could be made. She wasn’t quite fast enough.
“A good shot of whiskey’ll take the edge off of that,” Henry called, and pointed toward Nelson’s makeshift bandage.
Jenny spun around and motioned wildly behind Nelson’s back as she pushed him toward the house. It was slightly humiliating to have gone riding with such a greenhorn, and she knew that Henry was chiding her for her choice of partner.
“Shut up!” she mouthed silently to Henry, and accentuated her warning with a sharp glare.
He grinned, tilted his hat, and led the two horses off to be brushed down, and then watered and fed.
“Oooh,” Nelson moaned, as he stumbled on the uneven ground.
He was humiliated and angry with himself. He wished he’d never set foot on Texas soil. The only thing that kept him going was the thought of bedding and wedding Jenny Tyler and investing all that money.
“You’ll be okay,” Jenny said. “I’ll get Juana to put an ice pack on it for you and then one of the men can drive you back to your motel in Tyler.”
“I don’t think I’m up to that,” Nelson mumbled, seeing an opportunity arising from the incident. “I’m going to have to impose on your hospitality. I’ll ask Marcus if I can spend the night. My head hurts too much to consider the drive.”
Jenny wished she’d never seen Nelson Turnbull, but it was too late for that. She’d already encouraged him more than she should have, simply by going out to dinner last night in such a flamboyant manner. Offering him a bed was the least she could do after almost leaving his head on that limb back in the pasture.
“Certainly,” she said. “There’s an empty bedroom next to Marcus. You two can talk business to your heart’s content.”
Upon entering the house, Marcus began an instant commiseration at the sight of blood.
Jenny stomped off to her room, stripped herself of her clothes, and spent the next twenty minutes standing beneath the shower crying mad. She wasn’t really crying, she told herself as she blew her nose with the washcloth. It didn’t count if she cried in the shower. The tears just washed down the drain.
She turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, blew her nose once more for good measure, and began to dry herself. If Nelson Turnbull isn’t gone when I wake up tomorrow, I’ll send him down the damned drain, too!
4
“Jenny Tyler, where are you going? Your daddy’s still got company at the table.”
Jenny jumped, startled and guilty at being caught slipping out of the kitchen door.
“You scared me,” she accused, glaring at the housekeeper who was standing in the doorway.
Juana glared back. “I’m waiting for my answer.”
Jenny sighed and slumped against the kitchen door. She eyed the stubborn expression on Juana’s face. She’d seen it before.
“I’m going for a walk,” she muttered. “He doesn’t need me,” she said, tossing her head toward the dining room.
“Marcus may not agree with you, young lady,” Juana argued. “You and I both know a certain young man at that table was invited especially for your benefit.”
Jenny bristled. “I’m well aware of Marcus’s invitations. They’ve been frequent and none too subtle. Nelson Turnbull wasn’t gone two days when this man was shoved in his place. Why does he do things like this? Doesn’t he think I’m capable of finding someone on my own? I don’t want to sit across the table from any more men who spend half their time flirting, and the other half wondering how much Marcus is worth.”
“Whatever he’s doing, you’re letting it happen,” Juana said.
Jenny blanched at the truth of Juana’s accusation. Still she argued. “I’m right and you know it. But he’s crazy if he thinks he can treat me like his damned breeding stock. I am no longer on the market. And, I’ll pick my own man.” With that, Jenny pushed her way out the kitchen door, letting it slam sharply behind her.
Juana sighed as she watched Jenny stomp toward the barns. She knew the true cause of Jenny’s anger had little to do with Marcus’s manipulations. Jenny had already picked out her man. He just wasn’t cooperating.
Chance stalked through the horse barn, angrily pushing a bucket back into place against the wall, muttering under his breath about the carelessness of the horse trainer who’d been hired less than a week ago. But he knew that the empty bucket wasn’t the cause of his discontent. He’d seen the arrival of fancy cars and well-dressed men over three hours ago. The knowledge that Marcus had just dangled another prospective son-in-law before Jenny’s eyes tore into his gut. The thought of another man with similar plans to those of the Walters men made him sick with fury. Why was she letting her father do this? The Jenny Tyler he knew would never stand for it.
He’d been at the Triple T for almost half his life, and for the first time since his arrival he was giving serious thought to leaving. He’d stood just about all of the torment he was capable of absorbing. He was thirty years old and the foreman of the Triple T. But, in his eyes, he was nothing more than a glorified hired hand with secrets that were eating him
alive.
He tripped over a loose length of lariat and then turned and kicked it, sending a cloud of dust flying as his curses echoed. A flock of roosting pigeons took to the air with a flutter of wings and feathers.
Jenny was speechless as she watched him lose his temper. For the past week, he’d been trouble waiting to happen. The first time she’d seen him really mad had been years ago when Melvin Howard had made a pass at her. She remembered he’d threatened to break Melvin’s arms and legs.
That was just about the same time Jenny had admitted to herself that she was in love with Chance McCall. No one else had ever measured up to the man who’d become her friend and champion.
“Son-of-a-bitch,” Chance muttered, leaning his forehead against the rough wall of the stable hallway. He had to get a grip on himself.
“Chance! What’s wrong?” Jenny asked softly.
“What are you doing out here?” he snapped at the unexpected sound of her voice. “Surely your…guests…haven’t already left?”
“What do you care? You’ve made your decision regarding us…or lack thereof,” she said. “Whatever happens to me now is my business.”
That wasn’t exactly what he needed to hear. He knew he’d more or less given her free rein. But it wasn’t what he wanted…. It was just what had to be.
Jenny sauntered around in front of him until she was less than inches away from his face, pinned between him and the stable wall with a look on her face that would melt angel wings. She was daring him. He could feel it. Something stirred inside him. Something wild…and demanding. She refused to move…and then it was too late to ignore.
“You shouldn’t have come out here, Jennifer Ann,” he growled, just before he swooped down on her.
Jenny’s mouth opened to respond to his warning. But his lips demanded more from her than words. His groan of defeat was nothing compared to the swell of elation that swept through her as Chance lifted her off her feet and into his arms.
Nothing in her life had prepared her for the demand of his mouth as it swept across her face and neck. She sighed in supplication and wrapped her arms around his neck. Chance’s body shuddered beneath the touch of her hands and the feel of her belly brushing against the ache behind his zipper.
He turned and caught the tip of her finger between his teeth. Eyes locked, breathing slowed and then quickened as he sucked the tip of her forefinger into his mouth and rolled his tongue around it.
Jenny moaned softly and leaned against him as she lost control of her body.
“Hell,” he said softly. He started to pull away, dimly realizing that he’d just stepped over a boundary he shouldn’t have, when her whispered plea sent his sanity flying with the rope he’d just kicked.
“No, Chance,” she said. Her lips burned across his mouth and neck. “Don’t you dare stop now. Not now! Please make love to me.”
It was a plea he could not resist. His arms tightened around her. He stared at the passion on her face. Her body was soft and pliant, curving against him. Pain shot through him, marked by the swell of his anatomy demanding relief. Chance responded to her mouth with his as he turned, taking them both into the shadows of the empty stall behind them.
“This is wrong,” he muttered, as he gently pushed Jenny onto the sweet-smelling hay and tested the fabric of the dress she was wearing. It was delicate and pink, and it made him ache. “You weren’t made for cowboys and haystacks, Jenny. You were meant for furs and diamonds and more money than I’ll ever see.”
“No, Chance. You’re wrong. I was meant for you. From the first day when I put bandaids on your face, to the day you saved me from Melvin, I’ve known. It’s just taken you longer to find out.”
Her voice curled around his heart and stopped his breathing. He couldn’t think past the clear blue gaze and the open trust on her face. She didn’t know what the hell she was talking about. She couldn’t have loved him that long ago, she’d only been a kid. And then she moved, fitting herself against the swell behind his zipper, and sighed.
He rocked against her, unable to resist what she offered. She moved with the thrust of his body and moaned. Chance shuddered. His movement was exciting her. Her mouth fell open slightly as her neck arched, spilling a dark curtain of hair across his arms and onto the hay. It was more than he could take.
“This is wrong, Jennifer Ann. But, God help me, I can’t stop.”
Her sleepy smile gave him permission as his hands slipped beneath the neckline of her dress. They brushed across the crests of her breasts and then she kissed him, capturing the sigh that slipped out of his lips.
He was lost. His fingers slid across her shoulders, moving the dress straps down and off. His hands shook as his palms cupped and caressed her bare skin. Nubs hardened and peaked beneath his touch, taunting him by their presence until he could no longer resist a taste. They were sweet and soft, then at once achingly hard beneath his tongue. He shuddered and moved above her, lost in the feel of so much woman beneath him.
Jenny’s fingers tore at his shirt, needing the feel of his skin against her body, the heat growing between them. The snaps of his shirt popped apart. She sighed as her hands came in contact with flesh and blood…and the man himself. The muscles she discovered came to life beneath her caresses as she moved across his back in a foray of discovery. She was at once elated, and then fearful of the unknown awaiting her.
“Jenny, slow down!”
His command was lost as passion fed the mounting ache between her legs. She moaned, whispering his name quietly into the silence, needing more than he was giving, unwilling to give up what had begun.
Her lower body shifted and he fell into the valley she’d dug into the hay, allowing him access to a part of her that had previously existed only in his dreams.
“Sweet Jesus!” His voice rasped as an ache swelled into a pounding fury. The need to bury himself in her was fast becoming a reality. His hands slid up the bare skin of her legs, moving of their own accord as they swept across her belly, fingering the lacy wisp bordering the nylon barrier that lay between him and heaven.
She shuddered as his fingers slid lower. And then the gasp and moan that slipped past his ear told him more than words could ever have revealed. He was in virgin territory in more ways than one. He’d bet his little finger that Jennifer Ann had never made love to a man. The thought was sublime torture. It was a justification of every dream he’d ever had that she’d know only him, and a fear that he couldn’t be the one to take her when he knew he’d never be the one to keep her.
His head dipped as he rested against her breasts. It was torture to breathe and not move. But finally…slowly and surely…he regained control of his passion. He couldn’t have Jenny in the way that he wanted, but he’d damn sure make certain that he’d be the first to show her what passion meant.
“What are you…?” Jenny’s question was lost in the gasp that followed as Chance’s hands slid beneath the nylon barrier. Her eyes widened as she stared up into the face of love. “No…” she began. Then he sent her sanity spinning out of control.
His fingers stroked and pulled, rubbing slowly at first, back and forth against her hot, swollen flesh until Jenny thought she was going to die. Her hands dug into his shoulders as he gave her love in a way she’d never imagined, and would never forget. Her bones melted beneath his touch as his lips swooped, coaxing away, with soft words and sweet touches, the last of her inhibitions.
Tears blinded Jenny’s view of his face as a fever swept through her body. Everything within her seemed to swell and pulse toward the point in her body that Chance had possessed. Suddenly she lost control and cried aloud, frightened by the overwhelming need to be carried away by the touch of the big man above her.
“Let it go, Jenny,” he pleaded, “ride with the feeling, baby. I can’t go with you, but let me take you away.”
His name was a chant as she arched beneath his fingers. Light burst behind her eyelids in an explosion of colors as heat spilled in her body. She moaned as
Chance wrapped her in his arms and buried his face against her neck. She felt his tears, and even in her innocence, knew the strength of mind and character that it had taken for him to give her joy and deny himself fulfillment.
“I’ll never forgive you for not being inside me when this happened,” Jenny whispered, blinking back tears from the overwhelming passion she’d just endured.
“And I’d never have forgiven myself if I had,” he said. “This shouldn’t have happened, and I can tell you it won’t happen again.”
He crawled to his feet and then stopped short, unable to walk for the pain. He leaned over and grabbed his knees, taking deep, harsh gulps of air as he tried to regain control of his rebellious body.
Jenny shakily pulled herself up. Tears streaked silently down her face as she methodically picked hay from her hair and clothing.
Chance took a deep breath and straightened just in time to see her shutter her expression. He’d hurt her, but the pain inside him was infinitely worse. She didn’t know that he wanted to go out and shoot the next man who even looked at her twice. In Chance’s eyes, she’d become his woman. But he couldn’t have her. All he had were ghosts and a monthly paycheck. Not enough to take and keep the heir to the Triple T.
“Go back to the house, Jennifer Ann. And don’t ever come out here alone again.” The harshness in his voice was all she heard. She was too blinded by the pain to see the shattered expression in his eyes.
“Go to hell,” she said softly, as she walked past him.
“I already have, Jenny. I already have,” he whispered, as he watched her walking away.
She walked into the sunlight and out of his life.
The next two months were hell. Jenny darted from one beau to the next with butterflylike persistence. Frenzy seemed the norm.
But Juana knew differently. She’d seen Jenny’s face the day she’d come back from the barns. She’d picked the last bit of straw off her back as she’d passed through the kitchen. The bitter, sardonic smile that had been on Jenny’s lips had shocked her. Whatever had happened between her girl and the foreman was obviously over.