by Sandra Brown
"Yes," he groaned. "Touch me, Banner."
Her fingers combed through the golden pelt on his chest and tested the firmness of the curved muscles. She followed that sleek ribbon of hair between his ribs to its destination and dipped her finger into his navel.
Making a low sound in his throat, he lifted himself over her again and fused her mouth to his. When her iips closed around his intrusive tongue, he growled with arousal. Rolling to one side, his hands moved frantically to unfasten his pants.
But when the first button slipped from it hole, he froze as he remembered his earlier words. "Keep your pants buttoned up until we get to Fort Worth".
He lifted his mouth from Banner's and stared into the darkness, breathing hard. "Then I don't care if you diddle every whore in Hell's Half Acre." He looked down into Banner's bewildered face. "But stay away from nice girls"
His own words came back to haunt him. He was committing the very sin he had warned Lee and Micah against. He sat up. Drawing his knees to his chest, he laid his forearms on them, and bowed his head between them.
Banner lay perfectly still. Her eyes were round with misapprehension. Her body throbbed with longing. She didn't understand. She wanted to touch his naked back, smooth and dark in the feeble moonlight, but she didn't. When she tried to breathe, the air staggered from her lungs. "Jake, did I do something wrong?" He moaned, but only shook his head in answer. "Are you still angry with me?"
"No."
"Then why aren't you still kissing me?"
"I can't."
"Why?"
"I can't kiss you and stop."
The silence was tense and thick enough to taste. "You mean you want to make love with me again?"
His jaw knotted. "Yes."
"Then why—"
"You know why. It's wrong. Your parents trust me. I'm too old for you. I'm too..." His breath escaped on a long disgusted sigh. "I'm not good enough."
She crammed a fist against her lips to trap a sob, but tears flooded her eyes. "You just don't want me."
His head came around then and his eyes drilled into hers. "I want you. You could feel me against you. You know I want you. I want to be so deep inside you ... oh, God." He covered his face with his hands.
"Then why?" she cried softly.
He dragged his hands down his face and stood. He raked his hair back with fingers that punishingly plowed through the thick mass. "For all the reasons I've said. It's wrong. Now that's an end to it."
He took a shallow dive into the creek and swam across. When he emerged on the other side, she was still lying in the tall grass, weeping softly.
FIFTEEN
Even the whiskey tasted sour. Where was the warm glow he wanted to feel in the pit of his stomach? Where was that buzzing in his head that was always so pleasant to experience at the end of the trail?
None of those satisfactions had come from the glasses of whiskey he had tossed down. He wasn't even getting drunk, and he wouldn't have been opposed to getting falling down, slobbery drunk. But he could have been made of wood for all the effect the liquor was having on him. If he didn't know better, he would think Pris had been watering it down. But every cowboy knew that the Garden of Eden had the finest, most potent whiskey and the coldest beer to be found.
The crowd was beginning to pick up. Men entered the pleasure palace singly, in pairs, and in rambunctious groups to fill the gaming rooms and parlors. A pall of smoke logged the gas chandeliers overhead. The pianist thumped out lively tunes. The girls were becoming friendlier and more scantily dressed by the minute as they drifted through the crowd making themselves available. They were smiling and gracious, entertaining and alluring, as their madam had trained them to be.
Jake had to admit they were an attractive group. Some were pretty and sweet. Others were sophisticated, as though they knew all there was to know about the world, and what they didn't know didn't count. There was a whore to appeal to every taste.
He took another swig of whiskey. All it served to do was burn his throat. He supposed he should get in on a poker game, but he really didn't want to. So, for the time being, he would just lean against the bar and drink and hope that the whiskey would soon take effect and he would stop thinking about where he really wanted to be and with whom.
Sugar Dalton glided in front of him. "Well, hello, Jake."
"Hiya, Sugar." She looked more pathetic than she had the last time he was here, the night before Banner's wedding. Her face was puffy. Ineptly applied cosmetics did little to camouflage the lines of dissipation and unhappiness around her mouth.
But her eyes, in a forlorn way, were as kind as always. It was said that she treated her customers with maternal, loving care. That was what some men needed, especially the younger ones out on their own for the first time. Jake supposed that's why Priscilla kept Sugar as an employee.
"Drink, Jake?"
He already had one the bartender had just freshened, but he accepted her offer, knowing that the girls got a percentage of every drink they enticed a customer to buy. Among the younger, prettier competition, Sugar must have a hard time of it. "If you'll share one with me."
She knew she was being patronized, but she wanted a drink too badly not to accept Jake's generosity. Leaning over the bar, she whispered to the bartender, "Pour mine out of the same bottle as his, not the one Madam Pris keeps back there for us." She lifted soulful eyes to Jake. "How've you been?"
"Can't complain."
"What are you doing in town? Didn't you go to east Texas?" She took a drink of the whiskey, holding it in her mouth a long time, savoring it, before swallowing.
"I'm here to buy cattle. Starting up a herd."
Her smile was genuine. "That's good, Jake, real good. I'm glad for you."
"Thanks. It's not my own, I'm only foreman."
"But that's fine. I'm glad to know you've got a good job. When did you get in?"
"This afternoon."
They had checked into the Ellis Hotel. If it had only been him and the two young men, they would have settled for more modest accommodations. But Jake stretched their budget and checked into the Ellis as much for Banner's protection as her comfort. He, Lee, and Micah were sharing a room that adjoined hers. Their rooms were on the third floor.
"Look, Banner, there's a balcony out here," Jake had said, opening the drapes. The window provided a view of Throckmorton Street, one of the busiest in town. He had hoped the pedestrian traffic and the constant parade of buggies and horse-drawn trolleys would excite her.
She had merely nodded. Her weak smile could barely be called such. "Yes, this is nice, Jake. Thank you."
There had been few words between them since they broke camp early that morning. Because Lee and Micah were still gauging Jake's reaction to their escapade the previous night and wondering what effect it might have on their freedom in Fort Worth, it had been a subdued group that had entered the hotel lobby that evening.
They were trail dusty and looked none too reputable to the clerk behind the registration desk. His manners improved greatly when Jake mentioned Mr. Culpepper, the cattle broker. That and the fact that Jake paid him for two nights' residence in cash, taken from Ross's safe to cover the expenses of the trip.
Now, with his head full of the smoke and noise of the Garden of Eden, Jake realized he didn't want to be here. He had thought he did. He had thought he couldn't wait to get out of those fancy hotel rooms and back to the element of society he knew best.
"You keep both doors locked at all times. Don't open them to anybody except me and the boys," he had instructed Banner before he left. Micah and Lee had already departed, saying they would eat supper out. Jake had seen to it that Banner had a supper tray brought to her room. He didn't even want her eating alone in the dining room downstairs.
"You've told me that a hundred times. I understand." She had been standing at the window, gazing out as though she were a prisoner in a cell. In a manner of speaking, Jake had to admit she was. "All I want is to take a bath and go to bed."
"All right then," he had said, suddenly reluctant to leave, "goodbye,"
"Goodbye."
She had sounded so dejected and looked so sad he had almost been compelled to stay with her. Before he could talk himself into doing that, he had rushed out.
Now he wondered what the hell he was doing here. Even though Banner was barely speaking to him after what had happened last night, he preferred her company to this raucous crowd. He preferred looking at her face, even her angry face, to any of the painted whores who wandered past him with an invitation in their sultry eyes.
Sugar had finished her drink. Jake smiled down at her. "I have two boys with me."
"So where are they?" she asked.
In spite of his dreary mood, Jake laughed. "Out building up their courage, I reckon. They have work to do tomorrow, so I told them to restrict their fun to the shooting galleries. I'll bring them in tomorrow night and introduce them to you."
She laid a hand on his aim. "Thanks, Jake. I'll appreciate that." Her gaze grew warmer and her hand tightened around his arm. "I'm not doing anything in particular right now." It was an offer extended hopefully.
His lips turned down at the corners and he shook his head self-deprecatingly. "I wouldn't let you waste your valuable time on an old saddle tramp like me. Go find you a rich customer.'"
He was turning her down gracefully and she was gracious enough to accept the rejection in the same way. "Someday one of those rich customers might fall wildly in love with me."
"I wouldn't doubt it."
"And carry me right out of here. Away from her," she added under her breath. She tilted her head toward the portiere that separated the gaming rooms from the barroom. Priscilla was standing with one hand on her hip; the other held a scarlet plumed fan.
As she started forward, Sugar eased away from the bar. " 'Bye, Jake. And thanks."
"Just a minute," Priscilla said as Sugar made to pass her. She gave the old prostitute a long, silent, reproachful glance, then slapped her hard across the cheek. The cracking sound stopped all other noise in the room.
Jake jerked erect, ready to defend Sugar, but Priscilla threw him a look as sharp as a dagger that dared him to interfere. He didn't because that would have only made things harder on Sugar after he left.
Sugar covered her cheek with a defensive hand. "What was that for?"
Actually it was for the tender expression Priscilla had seen on Jake's face when he looked down at Sugar and the soft kiss he had laid on her mouth. But she said, "There's a hole in the knee of your stocking. Get upstairs and don't come down for the rest of the night."
"But I need the money," Sugar whined.
"You heard me," Priscilla said coldly.
Avoiding the curious eyes the scene had drawn, Sugar slunk from the room and up the stairs. Priscilla arched a brow at the piano player, who immediately resumed his playing. Then eyes as cold and flinty as metal shavings slid back to Jake and Priscilla covered the remaining distance to the bar.
"Did the Colemans get tired of you already?"
"You're a real bitch."
"You're right. That's part of my job."
"The part you like best, I think."
"You know better than that, Jake," she said seductively. "You know the part I like best."
"Why'd you slap Sugar?"
"I have to keep my girls in line."
"Over a torn stocking? What's poor old Sugar ever done to you?"
"Poor old Sugar has cost me plenty of dollars when she was too drunk to accommodate the randiest cowboy."
"And that's all that counts with you, isn't it? Money?"
"And enormous cocks."
Jake shook his head in disgust. "As I said, you're a bitch."
"Are you going to answer my question or not?"
This was familiar ground and Jake began to feel better. Sparring with Priscilla was one of the things he liked to do best because she was so deserving of every insult he could throw her. "I'm here buying cattle for the Colemans."
"So things have worked out?"
"Yeah." He finished his whiskey, but didn't ask for another.
"Celebrating?"
He shrugged.
"Can't you do any better than Sugar?" Priscilla took a step closer, making certain he could see her exposed breasts to their full advantage. The red satin dress cinched her waist and pushed her breasts up until they were all but overflowing the black lace bodice.
Jake took it all in. Every detail was planned to seduce, to fulfill the desires of every man in the place. Except him. "The way I see it, one whore is just about the same as another," he drawled.
Priscilla's eyes narrowed with outrage. He was surprised she didn't claw his face with her viciously long nails. Her control was admirable. Instead of lashing out, she purred. "Why, Jake, is something wrong with you, honey?" Her hand slid down his front to his fly. She squeezed him. "Aren't you going to take any of my girls?"
Calmly he reached down and removed her hand. "Nope, not tonight."
In that instant he made up his mind. Why was he wasting his time here? He should be looking after Banner. It wasn't like her to be sullen and silent. He didn't recognize that mood and it scared him. He would rather have her fighting him toe to toe than see that blank, lifeless, hopeless expression on her usually animated face. Why had he left her alone? She shouldn't be left alone in a hotel room. Not in any town, but especially this one. "I'd better get back to the Ellis to check on Banner."
He didn't even realize he had spoken his thoughts aloud until Priscilla repeated, "Banner?"
"The Colemans' daughter. I told you about her. She came with me. We're buying cattle." He was distracted, fishing in his pocket for money to pay the bartender.
"Is her husband with her?" Priscilla asked in order to confirm what Dub had told her.
"Husband? Oh, no. She didn't get married. It was... uh, called off." He tossed down the coins. "Goodbye, Pris."
With a mixture of frustration and fury, she watched him walk away from her. Jake wasn't acting like himself. When she had been told he was in the building, she had rushed through her toilette. She had been surprised to find him, not at the poker tables, not in one of the beds upstairs, both of which would have been normal, but drinking alone, or as good as alone since Sugar had been with him.
That wasn't normal. And Priscilla was always atuned to people who acted out of character. One never knew when a grain of information was going to turn into a pearl of blackmailing ammunition.
The Coleman girl was with Jake? Traveling with him? Interesting. Priscilla promised herself to get acquainted with Banner Coleman. She wanted to see what Lydia's daughter looked like and why she was capable of preoccupying Jake.
She watched him as he rounded the portiere. Just as he did, he collided with a man crossing the hallway. Apparently the stranger had won handily at the poker tables. His head was bent and he was counting his money. Thats why he didn't see Jake until they literally ran into each other.
The hostility that sparked between them was instantaneous and had nothing to do with their collision. The other man stepped back as though he had seen a ghost. Jake automatically reached for his holstered pistol, though he didn't draw it. They stared hard into each other's eyes. Even from across the room, Priscilla could feel the antagonism between them. She recognized that expression on Jake's face. It was hard and closed. His eyes were as cold and implacable as frozen lakes.
The other man was the first to move away. He took several steps backward, his fear of Jake apparent. Without a word spoken between them, the stranger hastened toward the bar. Priscilla watched Jake's eyes follow him before he turned on his heels and stormed out.
Priscilla felt every nerve in her body relax. Only then did she realize just how tense she had been. Jake had looked like he was going to kill the man right on the spot. That's all she needed to bring the religious fanatics down on her head, another killing.
She fanned herself indolently, forcing down her temporary tensi
on. This was promising to be an amusing night after all. Jake was definitely interested in this stranger. And whatever was of interest to Jake, interested her.
Knowing she looked tantalizing, she moved toward the man who was now gulping down a drink and demanding another. "Hello." Her voice was as smoky as her eyes.
He turned his head and did a double take. His eyes went wide as they toured down her body and back up again, lingering on her breasts. "Well, hello."
"I've never seen you here before."
"I've never been here before. I didn't know what I was missing."
"I see you won big. Your pockets are bulging." The fan drifted downward to the general vicinity of his pants pockets, but it tickled more than them.
"I guess I need to spend some of that money on somebody. Somebody pretty like you," he whispered.
Priscilla simpered and closed the fan with a snap. "My name's Priscilla."
His eyes bugged wide again. "The Priscilla?"
"You've heard of me?"
"There isn't a man in the state, big as it is, who hasn't heard of you."
She smiled. "Disappointed? Don't I live up to my reputation?" Her eyes slid down to his lips.
He turned to face her fully, letting his elbow slide across her ample breast. "That remains to be seen, doesn't it?"
"One hundred dollars." She flicked an imaginary piece of lint from his lapel.
He whistled. "That's a lot."
Her fingernail lightly scratched his lower lip. "I'm worth it."
Priscilla was breaking her own rule. She never took a stranger to her bed. A man had to be a customer for a long time before she entertained him personally. By then she knew his marital status, the names of his children and servants, where he lived, what his business was, which church he attended, what he liked to eat and drink and how much he did of both, what brand of cigar he preferred to smoke, what he liked to do in his leisure time, what he liked to do in bed, where he kept his money, and how much there was of it.
But this was an exception. Jake had behaved strangely. He had something against this man. She would make it her business to know just what that was.