Heartless

by Diana Palmer

  As he spoke, he bent his head and she felt his warm mouth on her breasts, exploring, teasing, possessing her. The sheer pleasure of it arched her body. He heard her soft gasp as he increased the pressure and the insistence of his lips. One lean hand slid under her. The other unfastened his shirt buttons all the way down. He pulled her hips into his and ground her bare breasts into his hair-roughened chest.

  He had to cover her mouth with his to smother the excited little cry that burst from her lips as passion surged in her untried body. She shivered, grasping at him, pulling him. He rolled over onto her, nudging her legs out of the way so that he was resting blatantly in the fork of her body, letting her feel the power and heat of his arousal. He shuddered as his hips moved rhythmically against her.

  She opened her legs for him, clawing his back as the pleasure mushroomed into levels she’d never expected.

  “Breakfast!” Mrs. Harcourt called from the hall.

  Jason jerked away from Gracie. “We’ll be right there!” he called back, hoping his voice didn’t sound as ragged to Mrs. Harcourt as it did to him.

  “Okay!” Her footsteps died away down the hall.

  Gracie gaped at him, wide-eyed.

  His eyes fell to her taut breasts and down, to where their two bodies were still pressed hard together at the hips. He had to fight to breathe.

  “I want to go into you, hard and deep,” he whispered roughly. “I want you to feel me against you, inside your body.”

  She trembled, barely breathing. She’d never dreamed men spoke this way to women. Her face colored, but not from embarrassment. She was picturing that lean, fit body driving into hers. She moaned.

  “You’d let me,” he bit off.

  She swallowed. “Yes.”

  He hesitated. He was hurting. Badly.

  “Don’t let it get cold!” Mrs. Harcourt called again.

  His eyes closed and he bit off a curse. His powerful body vibrated with frustrated need.

  Gracie felt that anguish in her very bones. She eased away from him. Her lips touched his face, eyelids, nose and cheeks. “It’s all right,” she whispered. “It’s all right.”

  He loved that tenderness. He sank back onto the bed and let her have her way with him, let her kiss him and calm him. His dark eyes opened into hers, soft and quiet.

  “Are you okay?” she asked gently. “I read that it hurts men, when they get like this. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “Nice instincts,” he responded, still breathless. “It worked.”

  She smiled. Her eyes were full of wonder as they searched his. “I never understood until now. What it’s like, I mean.”

  “It gets worse,” he said, staring pointedly at her bare breasts. “Much worse…”

  “Oh!” She sat up, flustered, and righted her clothing. “Sorry. I didn’t realize…”

  He sat up, too. “It wasn’t a complaint.”

  He pulled her to her feet, amazed at the difference in her. He smoothed her hair.

  “It will show,” Gracie said worriedly.

  “I don’t care,” he replied. He took her hand in his. “Let’s have something to eat.”

  They watched each other between bites. Mrs. Harcourt laughed to herself. They were so transparent. It made her feel good to see the growing affection between them. It was, she thought, about time.

  AFTER BREAKFAST, THEY WALKED out to the corral to watch a man work a filly on a leading rein.

  “We could have Thanksgiving dinner today,” he mused, smiling down at her. “Mrs. Harcourt saved it.”

  Her heart jumped. “I’d like that.”

  He turned, pulling her gently against his tall body. “Then we could decorate a Christmas tree.”

  She bit her lower lip, uncertain.

  He moved his hands on her waist. “I know why it means so much to you,” he said after a minute. “The detective was quite thorough. Your father was an atheist. He wouldn’t let you have a tree or any sort of decorations or even go to church.”

  She nodded. “It was lonely during the holidays.”

  “From now on,” he vowed, “we’ll celebrate them together, even if I have to put you on a plane to meet me overseas for it. I promise.”

  Her soft eyes smiled up into his. He was talking about a future. A shared future.

  “And we’ll go slow,” he added quietly. “I’m rushing things. I don’t mean to. I’m starving to death for you,” he confessed. “But I can control that. I have to. I want to get to know you, Gracie.”

  “We’ve lived together for twelve years,” she laughed.

  “Not like this,” he said, his voice deep with feeling. “Not ever like this.” He bent to her soft mouth and touched it with his lips.

  “Jason, someone might see,” she protested weakly.

  His face was somber. “They’ll have to get used to it eventually,” he replied.

  He was making promises without saying a single word. She looked up at him with her heart in her eyes. “Yes. They’ll have to get used to it.”

  His pulse ran wild. He bent and kissed her tenderly, holding her lightly in his arms. When she tried to move closer, he stepped back.

  “No,” he said softly. “This clouds everything. I want you. I’m sure you know it. But we have to go forward one step at a time. Okay?”

  She beamed. “Okay.”

  THE NEXT TWO WEEKS were magic. Gracie and Jason rode together on the ranch, went to a sale, attended a rendition of The Nutcracker at the ballet in San Antonio. In between, Gracie gave a lecture to a third-grade class and even had the teacher listening raptly while she gave a watered-down version of events at the Alamo. Then the college called, desperate for someone to fill in for the adjunct history professor who was teaching night classes—he’d been in an automobile accident and couldn’t come back in time to finish up the course. She only had to manage the class for four sessions, until the end of the semester, the first week of December. He’d left his lesson plan and lecture notes.

  She went into the class nervous and uncertain of herself. But once she realized how mature these adult students were, how interested they were in the subject, she relaxed and warmed to them. She followed the injured teacher’s lesson plan, which involved the history of Texas, but she added her own tidbits about the Mexican Revolution spilling over into the United States, and the conflict at the Alamo. The class was two hours long, but it went over a half hour. Gracie was on cloud nine when she drove her junky car back to Barbara’s.

  She’d had to fight Jason about replacing it. He wanted to give her a classy Jaguar convertible, and she wanted to pay her own way. He was irritated that she was being so independent. But he respected her, just the same. He didn’t push.

  It was hard, keeping themselves at arm’s length, considering the growing passion that threatened to burst its bonds. Jason wanted her. It was so evident that she was amazed she hadn’t noticed it before. Barbara had hinted that she’d seen it for the past two years. That would be about the time Jason started refusing to dance with her at parties. Perhaps, she reasoned, he was uncertain of his restraint if he got that close to her, and he hadn’t wanted her to know how physical his affection for her had become.

  THE IDEA OF DECORATING for Christmas still left a bitter taste in her mouth, but she was coaxed into it by Mrs. Harcourt and Jason. She spent the afternoon before her class working on it. While she was putting the last touches on the big tree in the living room of the ranch house, with Jason sipping coffee in his big armchair and watching her, his cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket, checked the caller ID and abruptly turned it off, tossing it onto the table beside his chair.

  Gracie glanced at him curiously.

  “I’m not in the mood to talk,” he said without explaining.

  She only smiled, going back to the last of the decorations.

  A minute later, the hall phone rang. And rang. And rang again.

  Gracie frowned at Jason with open curiosity. “Aren’t you going to answer it?”


  Jason sighed irritably and started to get up.

  “I’ll get it!” Mrs. Harcourt called.

  He sat back down, but Gracie noted that he looked uncomfortable. She wondered why.

  A minute later, Mrs. Harcourt came into the room. She gave Gracie a wary look before she handed the cordless phone to Jason.

  “It’s Miss Sartain again,” she said dully.

  Jason muttered something, glanced uneasily at Gracie and answered it.

  “Yes, I know. I cut it off,” he said after a minute. His jaw was taut, his expression resentful. “No, I haven’t changed my mind,” he said. There was a hesitation, during which his face hardened. “I know all about her background,” he said abruptly, glancing at a puzzled Gracie. There was another pause. His black eyes began to glitter. “If you want to talk to the tabloids, be my guest. I don’t have any secrets I’d mind sharing. That’s right. I’m not interested in getting back together with you, Kittie. You can call every damned day, but you’ll get the same result. Fine. Do your worst.”

  He hung up and motioned to a worried Mrs. Harcourt.

  “If she calls again, hang up. Don’t even talk to her,” he told her firmly.

  Mrs. Harcourt nodded, but her face was very pale. Obviously she’d heard Jason’s side of the conversation.

  He stared at Gracie, who was openly watching, her expression full of uncertainty. “Has she called you before today?” she asked.

  He hesitated.

  She moved closer. “Has she?”

  “A few times,” he confessed reluctantly. “You have to understand how her mind works,” he returned. “She thinks she can get me back if she’s persistent enough, but it hasn’t worked. Now she’s thinking of blackmailing me. I spiked her guns when I said I knew about your past, but she’s hinting that she knows another secret I’d pay to hush up.” He laughed coldly. “Fat chance.”

  Gracie wasn’t sure that Kittie was bluffing. Mrs. Harcourt was hiding something, but she had no idea what.

  “Why are you talking to her at all?” Gracie asked.

  His eyebrows arched. “Excuse me?” he asked in a faintly arrogant tone.

  Her teeth caught her lower lip. “Well, she was very pretty,” she said, “and you were engaged to her for several months, Jason…”

  “Engaged isn’t married,” he interrupted curtly. “My father tried it three times with little success,” he added, his eyes dark and quiet. “Even he and my mother didn’t get along all that well. You know how long your mother and Glory’s lasted. I’ve never seen a good marriage.”

  Gracie was even more uncomfortable now. He wasn’t bothering to conceal his contempt for marriage. What if he just wanted her, and thought he could coax her into bed and keep her that way without marrying her? It wasn’t the first time she’d entertained that miserable thought, and it wouldn’t go away.

  He was affectionate and seemed to enjoy her company, but he hadn’t even hinted at a shared future for them lately. Worse, she was frustrated by the new feelings he aroused in her and irritable because the tension between them had almost reached flashpoint in the past few days. Now he wouldn’t even touch her. It was as if he was toying with her, playing some sensual game. Even now, his expression was one of faint amusement. Was he getting even for the time when she hadn’t wanted him, and he’d ended up with Kittie?

  He noticed her expression and his darkened. “Now what’s wrong?” he asked, with a bite in his deep voice.

  “Are you sure you really wanted to break that engagement?” she persisted. “Or did you just feel guilty that I got kidnapped?”

  His black eyes kindled. She wasn’t the only one who was frustrated, except that his condition had lasted a lot longer. He was burning up to have her, and every time he got one step closer, she found a reason to take two steps back. His temper, always close to the surface, was threatening to erupt.

  He got to his feet. “Maybe I do feel guilty,” he replied, eyes narrowing. “You wouldn’t have been on the road at night in the first place if you hadn’t moved out when it looked as if Kittie might move in. You never liked Kittie.”

  She was shocked at the words, and the faint aggression behind them. She moved away from the tree with the last decoration, a new glass one, in her hand and glared at him.

  “How do you give a rattlesnake half a chance, offer it first bite? She made Mrs. Harcourt and Dilly feel like idiots. She harped on John’s age. She wanted me out of the way because I might interfere with her plans for your money.”

  He cocked his head and stared down at her. He was getting madder by the minute. “And that’s my only draw for a woman, Gracie, my money?”

  She stood very still. They were getting into dangerous areas here. The day had started with such promise. Now it was heading down a dark chasm. “Jason, I never said that.”

  “Do you know what Kittie said about you?” he drawled icily. “She said that the reason you never married was because you knew I wouldn’t support you and some other man. She said you stayed single deliberately, so that you’d have a nice, cushy life.”

  Her face went several shades lighter. So that was how Kittie had kept him away from Gracie, by planting giant doubts in his mind.

  “You know why I’m single.”

  “Do I?” he asked. “I know the reason you gave me. But you aren’t that afraid of me, Gracie,” he added in an insinuating tone. “In fact, I’ve been the one who’s drawn back, every time.”

  Her face went red. It was true, but he was distorting it. She loved him. That was why she had no restraint with him. Now he seemed to think that she was the one playing games.

  “I’m still rich, Gracie,” he said bluntly. “And you’re a working girl. Aren’t you?”

  That did it. She threw the decoration on the floor and heard it break with a feeling of recklessness. “Yes, I am,” she snapped. “I’m a working girl with my own life, and you can thank your stars that I’m independent, can’t you? Now you’ll never have to ask yourself if I hung around you because you were rich, because this is the last time I’m setting foot in this house!”

  She grabbed her purse and jacket and headed right out the front door.

  “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he demanded from right behind her.

  “I’m going to work!” she raged. “My class at the community college starts in two hours. I’ll hang around the canteen and drink coffee! Anything beats sitting here and eavesdropping on your conversations with your fiancée!”

  Jason felt like chewing nails. His fists balled beside his narrow hips. “I told you, I broke the engagement!”

  “Did you tell Kittie?” she challenged sarcastically.

  “Damn it!”

  “That’s right, start cussing,” she muttered. “That will certainly help!”

  She jerked open the door of her old car and got in behind the steering wheel. Jason stood there glowering, his jaw clenched so tight that it was visible even in the car. She started the engine and black smoke poured out the tailpipe. She wanted to groan. It only emphasized the difference in their financial status now.

  “All right, go teach your damned course and see if I care!” he yelled after her.

  “I was planning to!”

  She put the car in gear and groaned again when the engine backfired as she pulled out of the driveway. The sorry old piece of junk would probably quit at the road and she’d have to walk back, sink her pride and beg for a ride into town. But she was going to start toward Jacobsville, even if she never made it there.

  She felt like crying, but she wasn’t giving in to the urge. She was convinced that Jason had no intention of asking her to marry him, now or ever. He wanted somebody in his bed, but not for keeps. His opinion of marriage was crystal clear.

  Did he still want Kittie? If he didn’t, why did he answer her phone calls? And he’d tried not to, when Mrs. Harcourt finally answered the hall phone and almost forced it into his hands. Was he trying to hide the fact that Kittie phoned hi
m?

  She was too confused to think straight. Her life had been going beautifully. Jason was attentive and affectionate, and it had been like old times, going places with him. Well, not like old times. Not when he kissed her so hungrily and looked as if he were starving to have her.

  But that wasn’t the sort of hunger you built a marriage on. It was a flash fire sort of hunger that was soon satisfied. It didn’t last.

  Gracie wanted a home and children. She’d just started to think of having that with Jason, and he’d encouraged her to. But Kittie’s phone call had destroyed that illusion with a bang. Now here was Jason cursing and Gracie rushing back to Jacobsville with her pride stuck in her throat. Her dreams of a rosy future had just crashed and burned.

  She took the dirt road turnoff that led down the back way to Jacobsville and was just crossing the old wooden bridge when the stupid car stopped, sputtered and died, right there in the right-hand lane on the narrow bridge. She hit the steering wheel with the heel of her hand and used some of Jason’s best bad words. This just wasn’t her day!

  12

  GRACIE WAS RESIGNED to walking back to the ranch to ask for help when a red pickup truck came rushing toward her.

  She stepped out in front of her car and waved. The driver skidded to a halt just beside her.

  “Miss Gracie, is that you?” Bobby Hawkins, one of Jacobsville’s volunteer firemen, asked. “What in the world are you doing in that piece of junk?” He indicated the car.

  “It may not look like much, Bobby, but it’s mine. Could you give me a ride to the community college? I’ll be late to teach my class and it will take forever for Turkey Sanders to get out here and tow this car in to be worked on. I can’t even call him. I forgot my cell phone this morning.”

  Bobby grimaced. “I guess I can do that. I have to get to the bank before it closes to make a deposit, and then by the hardware store to pick up something. I’ve got a training class, but if you don’t mind waiting while I get my business out of the way, I’ll be glad to drop you off before I go to the fire station.”