by Janet Dailey
Her wants were unmistakable. She felt Holt catch at his breath and saw his gaze narrow on her lips, moist and enticing. The pressure of his grip eased slightly as his other hand moved to her shoulder. The instinctive knowledge throbbed through her that in another second she would be crushed in his arms.
Chapter XIII
“Diana?” Outside, Guy’s questioning voice called her name.
As swiftly as the moment of desire had come, it fled. Part of her wanted to press her body closer to Holt’s, make him aware how well her curved shape molded itself to the male contours of his and make him forget that Guy was outside looking for her. If she had felt the smallest chance of success, Diana would have abandoned her pride and self-respect, become as wanton and bold as any creature in love. But Holt was already rejecting her initial, hesitant advance, forcefully and angrily pushing her away from him while winter eyes froze her with contempt.
Not a word was said. Her gaze finally fell under the force of his. Diana turned and walked calmly to the screen door and pushed it open. A smile automatically curved her mouth as Guy turned at the sound.
“I’ve been looking for you,” Diana said in a surprisingly steady voice.
Guy glanced at the closing screen door. Did he know Holt was back? Diana wondered. No sound of movement came from inside. His hand reached to take her arm and lead her toward the ranch pickup parked close by.
“I don’t live there anymore,” Guy said. “I moved out.”
“You didn’t say anything to me.” Diana feigned ignorance, masking it in a statement of half-truth.
“I’m sleeping in that old trailer over by the gas tanks.” He opened the door for her and gave her a hand into the cab. “It isn’t much.” He looked at her and Diana realized he had never mastered the art of hiding or controlling his feelings. “It needs a woman’s touch, Diana.”
She could have cried at the ardent appeal, but she was much more adept at controlling her reactions. “Not mine,” she said brightly. “I’ve had my fill of the ‘happy homemaker’ role for a while. Someone else will have to fix it into a cozy love nest for you.” Diana smiled, trying to ease the sting she knew her joking words had caused.
“Funny.” His mouth twisted in a pained smile. “I don’t feel like looking for anybody else.”
Diana dropped her mask to plead. “I don’t want you to love me, Guy. I don’t want to hurt you.”
His gaze fell from hers as he closed her door. “There isn’t any way you can change it,” Guy murmured and walked around to the driver’s side.
For the first few miles from the ranch, neither spoke. Guy was the first to break the silence with a tentative comment about the horses. Diana responded and the tension began easing. One remark led to another. Soon they were talking with all the naturalness and long-shared friendship that had been present the first few days after Diana had returned, before everything had gotten so complicated.
As the truck approached a shaded picnic area and rest stop along the highway, Guy slowed down and glanced at Diana, his blue eyes sparkling. “What do you say we stop here for a breather? There’s a cooler in back with a couple of cans of beer and pop.”
“You just happen to have it along, huh?” she teased.
“It’s part of my emergency kit in case I have a flat tire and my mouth gets dry and dusty as the desert while I’m fixing it.” He had slowed almost to a full stop. “Well? What’s it going to be? Are you thirsty? I’m in no rush to get to town unless you are.”
His manner and mood suggested nothing more serious on his mind than playing a little hooky, and Diana found herself agreeing. “Let’s stop.”
Guy swung the pickup across the lane and onto the graveled cul-de-sac, parking under the gnarled trees. Switching off the motor, he hopped out of the cab.
“What’ll you have, Miss?”
Diana answered with his same mock seriousness. “A cold can of pop.” He made her feel incredibly young, still in the carefree days of her teens.
“What flavor?”
“What have you got?”
A wicked light danced in his eyes, laughing and teasing and suggestive. “Since you asked—”
Diana held up a hand, laughing, to stop him. “Surprise me.”
Sighing with mock regret, Guy walked to the open bed of the pickup. There was the clink of aluminum cans and the swish of poptops being removed. Then he was back, sliding behind the wheel and passing her a cold can of cola. Diana leaned her head against the back of the seat and relaxed.
“Mmm, it’s good,” she murmured.
“There’s nothing like a cold drink on a hot day.” His own was a beer, the aroma of the malty beverage drifting through the cab.
Her gaze wandered absently out the window, noting the full litter barrels. Odd bits of paper and a few cans were scattered on the ground near the picnic tables. She and Guy weren’t the only ones who had stopped here to enjoy the shade and the silence.
“A lot of people use this place, don’t they? Some less considerate of the next person than others.” Diana drew Guy’s attention to the litter.
“It gets plenty of use,” he agreed. “It’s a popular place for beer parties and . . . it’s kind of a lovers’ lane.”
Lulled by their recent camaraderie, Diana missed any significance in the remark and teased, “Is that the voice of experience speaking? How many times have you used it to party with a girl?”
Guy took a swallow of beer and swished the rest around in its can. “If you tell me how many times you’ve been here, I’ll tell you,” he challenged.
“That’s easy. I have never been here before. The boys I dated in high school never quite got up enough nerve to go out and park with the Major’s daughter.”
When he lifted his head, that look she dreaded to see was back in his eyes. “I’m glad you haven’t been here with anyone else, Diana, because neither have I.” He set his beer on the dash of the truck and turned in the seat to face her. Suddenly the large cab felt very confining.
“Then it’s a first for both of us,” Diana said brightly, ignoring what he was implying. “We’ve had a little beer party here together. At least you’ve had the beer.” She gestured toward his can. “You’d better drink up before it gets warm.”
“Diana, don’t ignore me. Don’t treat me like—”
“I’m not ignoring you, Guy.” She gave up the pretense. “I just don’t wa—”
“Don’t talk.” He slid closer, his arm circling her shoulders. Diana had a choice either to submit to his embrace or cringe against the door. She chose the first, carefully wedging an arm between them, trying to keep him at a distance. “You’re so beautiful, Diana. I know I’ve told you that before, but it’s true.”
“Guy, don’t!” She tried to be patient with him, firm without being harsh.
“I mean it. I’m not just saying it,” he insisted. “Your hair is like satin.” He reached out, curling a lock around his finger and stroking its smoothness with his thumb. “Black as midnight and shiny like the stars.”
With a slight turning movement of her head, the strand of hair slipped from his fingers, falling back with the others. Undeterred, Guy touched his hand to her face, tracing the sweeping curl of her lashes.
“And your eyes, they are so blue I could drown in them,” Guy murmured.
Diana tried to stop his exploring fingers, reaching up and circling his wrist with her hand. She firmly pushed his hand away from her face.
“And I love your mouth. God, I love your mouth.”
Distracted by her efforts to remove his hand, Diana hadn’t noticed his descending head. The warmth of his breath, smelling of beer, fanned her skin in warning. She made the mistake of turning toward him and found her lips claimed by his kiss. She started to twist away.
“Don’t say no to me again,” he begged.
His plea went straight to her heart, freezing her with its utter vulnerability. She let him kiss her, remaining stiff and unresponsive to his ardent pressure. But feeli
ng sorry for him now was not the answer. Hadn’t she learned that from her last mistake?
Diana twisted away from his kiss, but Guy didn’t seem to care; he transferred his attention to her neck. His moist, nibbling attempt to arouse her only sickened Diana with a sense of guilt. A choked sob came from her throat, and Guy thought it was a moan of desire.
“I love you, Diana.” His hand was pushing the elastic neckline of her blouse off her shoulder. “I love everything about you.” His mouth never left her skin, his lips moving against it as he spoke.
“Guy—”
But he seemed unwilling to let her speak until he was through. “I love your beauty, your skin, your bones.” She was straining, trying to push him away, fighting him as gently and determinedly as she could. In his inexperience, Guy seemed only to believe she was trying to find a more comfortable position or aid him in his lovemaking. His hand slid inside the expandable neckline, cupping the underside of her breast and holding it like a priceless art object.
“And I love your breasts.” His voice was raw with desire. “They are so round and full, with dark rose centers more beautiful than any pictures I’ve ever seen. I want to—”
“No!” Her hands lifted his face, trying to keep him from the object of his desire. Her breaths were coming in little sobs.
Guy seemed destined to misunderstand. He let her move him away, but when he raised his head it was to seek her lips. Diana eluded his mouth, letting it find instead her cheek. When he tasted the salty moisture on her skin, he drew away, frowning at the tears on her cheeks.
“Diana, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” His voice, breathless with passion, was confused and concerned. Diana looked back at him, knowing she was crying for him, as well as for herself.
She looked away, angrily wiping the tears from her face. “I want you to stop it.” Diana avoided his gaze, not wanting to see his reaction. Feeling sorry for him was not a reason to keep giving in to his desires. Neither was guilt for past wrongs. Diana adjusted the neckline of her blouse and opened her purse to find her lip gloss.
“I’m sorry.” Guy was on his own side, his hands gripping the steering wheel, his head lowered. “I love you so much,” he groaned. “I just got carried away.”
With the lip gloss in her hand, Diana flipped down the visor to reveal its rectangular mirror. “You might take a few minutes to find out if the girl is willing.”
Was that her reflection in the mirror? So cool and composed, and, yes, beautiful? Her blue eyes were as bright as polished gemstones. The traces of smudged mascara seemed only to darken the outline of her thick lashes. Her hand was steady. Nothing revealed how shaken and sickened she was by the trap she had sprung on herself.
“Every time I get near you, I remember the way I felt that first time. Even when I’m not with you, I remember. God, you were so beautiful, Diana, with your body . . . your skin all shiny from the water. You were mine to touch and kiss, every inch of you. When I made love to you, it was as if we became one person. After I came in you, lying beside you, knowing a baby might start growing, I—”
“No baby, Guy. I wasn’t that foolish.” She felt suffocated and sickened. “Give me your beer can. I’ll throw it away.”
Guy obeyed her request automatically, only half-aware of what she had asked. When she opened the door and stepped down from the truck, it penetrated. Guy followed.
“You said before it was good, that you didn’t regret it. You weren’t lying to me, were you, Diana? You weren’t sorry we made love?”
“No.” Not then. The bitterness of regret had come later. She set the cans in the overflowing trash barrel and turned to walk back to the pickup. Guy blocked her way, his gaze searching her face.
“Then why don’t you want me to make love to you now? I know you said you didn’t want to get seriously involved with anyone yet, but I can’t believe that’s why. It’s something else, isn’t it?”
“Guy—”
“It’s because Holt raped you, isn’t it? He’s the one who’s made you freeze up inside. I should have killed him!”
“No! Will you stop looking at me like a saint incapable of doing anything wrong! It wasn’t rape!”
An incredulous frown spread across his face. “Did you want him to? You’ve always hated him as much as I have. I can’t believe you actually wanted him to—”
“I didn’t—not at first.” She searched desperately for a way to explain something she wasn’t sure of herself. “How can I make you understand? Sex and love don’t necessarily go hand in hand, not even for a woman.” Diana looked away, shamed by how readily she fell into the arms of a man who despised her. “Believe me, it doesn’t make me feel very proud to admit it.”
“You regret it?”
“Yes, I regret it.” Her answer was accompanied by a short, bitter laugh.
Guy refused to believe the worst of her. “It still doesn’t change the fact that Holt forced himself on you when you weren’t willing. I saw you fight with him, trying to make him stop. Nothing you can say makes what he did any less brutal. Look what it’s done to you. He should pay for it.”
Her heart cried out: My God, don’t you think he is? Didn’t Guy realize his hatred for his father was the most vicious form of punishment that could be rendered? Her throat ached. Diana doubted that mere words could penetrate the wall of hatred. Hadn’t she shown Guy how to lay the bricks?
“Try to forget it, Guy.” Her voice sounded as tired as she felt. “Don’t you think it’s time we started for town?”
His agreement was grudgingly given. Diana sat close to the door. As they drove onto the highway, the wind blew through the open window, tangling her hair into rumpled black curls. For several miles, there was only the whine of the tires and the roar of the motor. This time it was Diana who spoke first.
“Have you ever asked Holt how he got those scars on his back?” There was a pause, but Guy never took his eyes from the road.
“Yes, I’ve asked him.”
“And?”
“He never gave me an answer.”
Very little else was said until they reached the outskirts of town. Guy slowed the truck to a stop at one of the main intersections and glanced at Diana.
“Where would you like me to drop you off?”
“Anywhere downtown is all right. I’m just going to do some window-shopping. How long will you be?”
“About an hour.” The traffic light changed to green and Guy shifted gears, stepping on the accelerator.
“Where shall I meet you?”
Guy stole a glance at his watch, secured around his wrist by a wide leather band. “That’ll make it about noon. We could have lunch before we head back to the ranch if you want.”
“I’ll meet you at the hotel around noon then,” Diana agreed.
“You aren’t still mad at me, are you?” His question was hesitant, asking reassurance that his behavior had been forgiven.
Diana gave it to him. “I was never mad at you, Guy.” How could she be when none of what happened was his fault? It was her fault, she had gotten herself into this emotional tangle.
Guy let her out on a street corner of the downtown shopping area. Diana wandered in and out of a few stores, but she was only going through the motions. She was just looking because it was what she had said she was going to do.
Twenty minutes early, Diana walked into the hotel. A handful of players were at the slot machines inside the entrance. There was the grinding sound of arm levers being pulled, the whirl of spinning reels, and occasionally the ringing of jackpot bells and the clunking of coins falling into a metal tray.
The sights and sounds were too familiar to Diana to be noticed. She walked past the row of slot machines and up the short flight of steps. The blackjack and craps tables were virtually empty of players. One of the dealers smiled and nodded to her as Diana walked by on her way to the hotel coffee shop.
The noon-hour crowd was already beginning to fill the restaurant. Diana glanced around for an emp
ty booth to wait for Guy. A waving hand caught her eye.
“Come sit with us, Diana.” Peggy Thornton motioned her to their booth.
“I’d love to, but I’m supposed to be meeting Guy here for lunch.” Diana walked toward their booth. “I didn’t expect to run into you here. Where are the kids?”
“Sit down and have an iced tea with us while you’re waiting for Guy,” Peggy urged. “We left the kids with my mom.” She glanced at her husband, sitting beside her. “Alan decided I needed a rest from them. So he brought me into town to do a little shopping and take me out to lunch. Isn’t he a doll?”
It was obvious the outing was a rare treat for Peggy. It was such a small thing and so easily arranged that Diana became irritated at Alan for not doing it more often. Peggy was sitting beside him, almost radiant in her happiness.
“Sit down, Diana.” Alan Thornton added his invitation to his wife’s. “What will you have? Coffee, maybe, instead of tea?”
“Iced tea is fine.”
As Alan called their waitress over, Diana started to slide into the empty booth seat opposite the couple. Only it wasn’t empty. Holt was already seated there, a full cup of steaming coffee in front of him. Somehow she hadn’t seen him; she had just assumed that Peggy and Alan were alone.
“I didn’t know you were here.” The statement bordered on an accusation as Diana hesitated at the edge of the seat.
“Do you want to change your mind about the tea?” Holt baited.
“Of course she doesn’t!” Peggy laughed. “What a silly thing to say. Sit down, Diana. Don’t mind him. I’ve been meaning to call and talk to you, but Amy has been sick and I’ve had my hands full.”
Reluctantly, Diana slid onto the seat beside Holt. All her muscles were tensed, her nerves stretched thin, her senses tuned to his nearness. She knew she was sitting rigidly, but she seemed unable to relax, to be natural.
“How is Amy? I hope she’s better.” The words came out stilted and insincere, but Peggy didn’t seem to notice.
“Yes, she’s better, but I think Sara is coming down with the bug now. And she is so much more demanding when she’s ill that I dread to think of having her sick in bed with both little ones to take care of, too. Ah, motherhood,” Peggy sighed. “It’s good to have a few hours away from it.”