by Sandra Brown
"Well?"
The man reached into his pocket and took out the necessary bills. She closed her fingers around them and smiled invitingly. "This way."
Once the door to her private quarters was closed behind them, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, arching her body against his. The sooner she got this over with, the sooner she could get back to the nightly operation of the Garden of Eden.
"Goddamn, lady, you keep that up and I might die before I get my pants down."
"We can't let that happen, can we?"
With talented hands she began to undress him. She sighed when she found him hard and ready. "What's you name, winner?''
"Sheldon," he panted. "Grady Sheldon."
* * *
"Who's there?"
"It's only me."
Jake's silhouette filled the doorway between the rooms. Banner's room was in darkness. There was one lamp turned down low in the room he shared with Lee and Micah. But in the slice of light that arced across her bed, he could see her sitting up, clutching the covers to her chest.
Her hair was in disarray, catching the light on its wavy tumbled strands. Her eyes were round with apprehension, having just been awakened from a deep sleep when he opened the door.
Banner in bed, soft and mussed.
For the first time that night, Jake felt stirrings of arousal. How could this girl—yes, a girl only eighteen—dressed in an innocent nightgown a nun would have approved of, inspire desire in him when neither Priscilla's groping nor her whores, jaded and willing and partially naked, hadn't fazed him?
"What are you doing?" Her voice was a husky, sleepy whisper that reached through the darkness to touch him.
"I just got in, wanted to check and see if you were all right."
She lay back on the pillow and pulled the sheet up to her chin. "Have Lee and Micah come back yet?"
Jake shook his head and chuckled. "No. They'll probably be a while."
"What did... where did you go?" It cost her some pride to ask. She wasn't looking at him, but kept her eyes trained on the ceiling.
"Nowhere."
"You went somewhere."
"No place you need to know about, Banner."
"To her?"
"Who?"
"Priscilla Watkins."
"Maybe."
"Did you finish with her what you started with me last night?"
"That's a helluva thing to ask!"
"Well, did you?"
"That's none of your business."
She sprang to a sitting position again. The cover slid to her waist. "It's my business," she said, thumping her fists against the mattress, "if you lock me in my room so you can go see her. The boys go out and carouse, you do, and I'm stuck here in this room."
"The boys can take care of themselves."
"So can I!"
He sighed. This wasn't going the way he had wanted it to. He had been glad she woke up. He had wanted to talk to her, to hear in her voice a trace of forgiveness for what had happened last night. Maybe he could have held her, touched her hair, kissed her cheek, told her he was sorry for hurting her again. Maybe he could have explained that he cared about her too much to treat her with no more regard than he would a woman he paid. And maybe, just maybe, she would have understood.
But they were arguing.
"Banner, you've got enough sense to know that you can't go traipsing all over Fort Worth unescorted."
"You could have escorted me. Instead you shoved me in this room, locked the door, and went off to visit your whore. That is where you went, isn't it? Tell me."
"Yes! I saw Priscilla. There, are you satisfied?"
She stared at him in injured silence for several seconds before lying back down, pulling the sheet up high, and turning her back on him.
"Shit!" he muttered, slamming the door between them.
The hotel room closed around him and he paced. He considered going back into her room and apologizing for locking her in. He would offer to take her on a sightseeing tour of the city tomorrow after their business with Culpepper was settled.
But he couldn't trust himself to go back in her room. She thought he had slaked his desire with Priscilla. What she didn't know was that he was aching with it now.
Jake flopped down on the bed to remove his boots. Should he warn Banner that Sheldon was in town? He could easily have killed the man tonight. The strength of his hatred was frightful. Sheldon was a menace to the Colemans. That in itself was reason enough for Jake to hate him. But that he threatened Banner particularly, and the way in which he threatened her, made Jake's attitude toward him murderous,
Sheldon hadn't seemed in mourning over the deaths of his wife, unborn baby, and father-in-law. Nor had he the bearing of a man anxiously awaiting the acceptance of his marriage proposal. He had acted self-confident and sure, like the answer he wanted was a foregone conclusion. Such arrogance rubbed Jake the wrong way.
And what the hell was he doing in Fort Worth?
Jake glanced at the door connecting the rooms. Had Sheldon heard about their trip? Banner couldn't have gone unnoticed in Larsen as she prepared to follow them on horseback. Could Sheldon have followed her here on purpose, thinking she might be more likely to accept his proposal when she was out from under the protection of her family?
Well, whether Banner was mad at him or not, tomorrow Jake planned to stick to her like glue. He would make it impossible for Sheldon to get anywhere near her.
Jake looked down at his hands and was surprised to find them clenched into whitened fists. He had been imagining them around Sheldon's neck. That's what he would want to do to any man who touched Banner. He couldn't stand the thought of anyone's hands on her.
Except his.
Cursing, he flung himself back on the bed and tried to rid his mind of thoughts of them together, him and Banner.
Banner, her hair and skin damp and smelling of soap.
Banner, her mouth responsive beneath his.
Banner, her thighs bracketing his.
Banner, her breasts melting against his tongue like sugar.
The images persisted tormentingly until his own hand gave his loins relief.
* * *
Scalding tears continued to roll down her cheeks in incessant rivulets. Thank heaven she hadn't cried in front of him. Had he known she was crying when he left her alone on the bank of the creek last night? When was she going to stop humiliating herself like that? When would she learn?
Oh, but last night he had come close. He had come close to loving her, and she knew he had wanted to. The passion with which he had kissed her couldn't be fraudulent. The loving way his mouth had moved over her breasts couldn't have been a product of her imagination, because she could never have imagined such a sweet caress.
Then why had he stopped?
He had said because he was too old, because he wasn't good enough, because this and because that. Banner knew them all to be lame excuses. The real reason was that she wasn't Lydia. Jake might desire her, but he still loved her mother. He wasn't willing to settle for second best.
She listened to the sounds he made getting ready for bed. She heard the splashing of water he washed in, heard the mud of his boots hitting the floor, heard the sagging of the bedsprings when they took his weight.
Had he undressed? When he was alone, what did Jake sleep in? Not a nightshirt. He wasn't the type. His underwear? In the hot summertime?
Nothing?
She went weak with the thought of him lying naked only a few yards away and rolled to her stomach in hopes of quenching the small flames igniting her body.
Why was she tormenting herself like this? Didn't she have any pride? Jake's body wasn't on fire, was it? He had put out whatever fires of desire Banner had started with another woman.
Priscilla Watkins. Without ever having met her, she detested the woman.
She lay awake for a long while, wondering if Jake was asleep. Was he reliving those moments of passion they had shared last night,
or was his mind reviewing his evening spent with Priscilla?
In the wee hours the boys came in, tripping, giggling, and stumbling with drunkenness. In loud whispers that penetrated the walls, Jake told them to be quiet and get into bed before the management of the hotel threw them all out. She heard them settle.
And still she lay awake, wondering what a woman like Priscilla Watkins could do for a man like Jake that she couldn't.
* * *
"Ah... ah... ah!" Grady Sheldon climaxed. Priscilla pretended to. He was a lousy lover, taking all, giving nothing. Not that she was easy to please. She wasn't. But she hadn't been aroused in the slightest by Sheldon's rapid, sweaty lovemaking.
She ran her long nails up and down his back languorously. "Hmm," she sighed, "that was nice." Without his quite knowing how she had done it, she had separated them and rolled aside. Exhausted, he nestled his head on her shoulder.
"Good?"
She rolled her eyes ceilingward. The ones who had to ask were never good. "Very," she said, blowing gently in his ear. His hand found her breast and squeezed too hard. She allowed it. Grady had gotten what he wanted from her, but she was far from satisfied. She wasn't through with him yet and until she was, she would go on stroking his pride, and whatever else she had to stroke.
"Will you be coming to see me often? Are you from around here?"
"No. Larsen."
Her hands stilled for only a second. Grady didn't even notice. "Larsen? In east Texas?"
"Uh-huh." He nibbled her neck. "I've got a sawmill there. Biggest one in ten counties. They float timber down the Sabine, right to my back door."
She laid her hand on his thigh. He might have more potential than she had first thought. In financial circles it was known that the next growing industry would be lumbering in east Texas's piney woods. "Be gentle with those teeth, darling." The last thing she wanted was teeth marks. That was another rule she laid down to the lovers she took: Do what you want, but don't leave any traces for the next man to see.
"Sorry," Grady mumbled. "I get excited about my business. Now that we have the railroads, it's easier to ship lumber all over the country."
"I see," she said meditatively. "Aren't you worried about leaving it?"
"I have a dozen employees to run the business for me."
Yes, Sheldon's might be a friendship worth cultivating. She wasn't foolish enough to believe that the Garden of Eden could go on indefinitely. The vigilant church groups would put it out of business sooner or later. Even if they didn't, she didn't want to live out her days a madam. She wanted years of ease, years to live off the profits she had saved. Investments were the way to make money these days.
"How did you come to know Jake Langston?" Grady's head popped up and he peered into her guileless face. "Am I mistaken? You do know him, don't you?"
"I don't know him. I know who he is," he said bitterly.
She cradled his head and guided his mouth back to her breast. "I wouldn't have asked if I'd known it was going to upset you. Please don't stop what you were doing. It felt so good."
He kissed her breast hruisingly, taking his frustration out on her. "I first saw him on my wedding day."
"He was a guest at your wedding?"
"Not my guest. My wife's. Or at least she was supposed to be my wife."
It couldn't be! No wonder his name had rung a bell. She had heard it first from Dub. Could it be that she had the Coleman girl's former fiancé in her bed? Rarely was fate that benevolent. Priscilla had difficulty controlling her glee. Before she jumped to conclusions, she had to make sure.
She trilled a laugh and said, "Grady, you're not making any sense."
He grinned lopsidedly. "Guess I'm not. Well, you see, I had some trouble on my wedding day. It was called off, right there in the church."
She sat up slightly, her eyes rounding with wonder. "No! Tell me what happened."
He repeated the story she had heard from Dub. "That bastard moonshiner said it was me who gave his daughter a kid," he finished his tale heatedly.
Priscilla gave him a knowing smile. "I've had you, Grady. I wouldn't be surprised."
He laughed complacently. "Well, I reckon I'm potent enough to have done it."
"You should have come to me sooner. We don't let little accidents like babies happen."
She kissed him, using her tongue like no other woman he had ever known could, not even Wanda. "And where did Jake fit into all this?" she asked, when at last she pulled away. Her heart was pounding with excitement. Not over the kiss, surely, but over what she was about to hear.
"He rallied to the cause of my fiancée's family. The Colemans. Banner, that's her name, stormed out without letting me explain."
"You poor thing." Priscilla settled back against the mound of pillows and drew him to her in pity. Her eyes were dancing, but she was careful not to let him see.
"I was stuck with Wanda and her pa."
"Was?"
"They died in a fire a few weeks back."
"How sad."
He raised his head and winked at her. "Not for me."
Silently he communicated what he didn't dare speak aloud. Priscilla's eyes narrowed with a new appreciation for Grady Sheldon. Like her, he didn't let anything stand in the way of getting what he wanted. "Fires are such ghastly things, aren't they?" She scratched his ears.
"They sure are."
They both laughed. He butted her breasts with his head, men began kissing them ardently. But Priscilla didn't have the complete picture yet. "What does Jake have to do with you now?"
"He's the foreman of Banner's ranch, the one her daddy gave her. It was supposed to be mine too. She's got acres of timberland going to waste."
"And you want it," she said intuitively.
"I like you, Priscilla. We think alike." He grinned slyly. "Since my wife's untimely death, I've gone to Banner on bended knees begging for forgiveness and asking her to marry me in spite of what happened.1'
"And what does she say?"
"Not much." His lips thinned bitterly. "I can't get near her. Jake Langston keeps an eagle eye on her."
Priscilla brushed her fingers through his hair and said offhandedly, "Then you know she's here, in Fort Worth, with him."
"What!" Grady sat upright. "Banner's here? How do you know?" Priscilla repeated what Jake had told her. "Well, I'll be a sonofabitch. The sheriff in Larsen was getting a little too curious about the cause of the fire that killed the Burnses. I thought it would be prudent to get out of town for a while, but I hated like hell leaving without having a definite answer from Banner."
He threw back his head and laughed. "With Jake so busy buying cattle, maybe I'll just mosey over to the hotel and see her." He gazed down at Priscilla, who had watched the workings of his mind with growing admiration. She adored men who turned every event to their advantage, just as she did.
And what a weapon she had! Banner Coleman's scorned fiancé. Only one thing troubled her—Jake's protective attitude toward the girl. She didn't like that one bit. What did it mean? According to Grady, he was practically living with her on that ranch. He had run off tonight to check on her, turning down her poker tables, her liquor, her girls, even herself, to get back to that girl.
Well, she wouldn't have it! She'd see to it that the affair, whatever it was, was brought to ruination if it was the last thing she ever did. It was about time Jake got his comeuppance for rejecting her all these years. She would use Banner Coleman to bring it about.
"How do you know this Langston fellow?" Grady asked, a shade suspiciously. Maybe he had talked too freely about that fire.
Priscilla's slow, easy smile assured him. She drew his head down for a long, lascivious kiss. "I've known him for years. Since we were kids. He's nothing but a saddle tramp who buys his drinks on credit."
Grady seemed satisfied with her answer. Besides, he was too befuddled to think straight. She had pushed his head back to her breasts and he was drowning in the musky scent of her perfume. His mouth slid wetly
from one nipple to the other, sucking hard. She didn't seem to mind anything he did to her.
His pulse pounding, he came to his knees and straddled her shoulders. His eyes were hot as they poured down on her face. She raked her sharp fingernails down his chest, drawing blood in two places. His chest heaved.
"It'll cost you extra," she said softly. Priscilla always fairly informed her customers what they would have to pay.
"How much?" he asked thickly.
She made a silky fist of her hand and slid it from the tip of his penis to the root. "Another fifty dollars."
"Yes, good God, yes, anything."
Smiling bewitchingly, she raised her head to his lap. The information he had provided her had been invaluable. He deserved a treat.
SIXTEEN
Jake and Banner breakfasted early the next morning. Their appointment with Mr. Culpepper was set for ten o'clock.
"You two look like hell," Jake said to Lee and Micah when they staggered forward to join Banner and him at their table in the hotel's dining room. Their faces were gray and pasty. Red lines rivered through the whites of their eyes.
Lee fell into the chair adjacent to Banner's. Propping his elbows on the table, he held his head in his hands, groaning. "I feel like hell. Banner, would you please pour me some coffee. My hands are shaking so much I could barely shave."
Sniffing her disapproval, she poured cups of strong black coffee for him and Micah, who had yet to say anything.
"If you can't handle it, you'd better not drink it," Jake said sagely.
He smiled conspiratorially at Banner and winked. She only stared back at him with a cool disdain that indicted the male population in general. He had spent a helluva night over her, and her condescending attitude rankled. He took his sudden bad mood out on the boys. "Hurry up and get some coffee down you. I don't want Mr. Culpepper to think he's dealing with drunkards."
They decided to walk from the hotel to the cattle broker's downtown office. Fort Worth bustled with activity. Banner, despite her determination to pout all day, was caught up in the excitement of the city. The shop windows were full of tempting merchandise. The streets were clogged with traffic, farm wagons loaded with produce and gawking children, smart buggies driven by smartly dressed ladies, cowboys on horseback, trolleys loaded with people who had places to go and things to do.