by Diana Palmer
Kate Brannt patted her hand comfortingly when King finally took Janice outside to look at the garden.
“I’m sorry you’re leaving,” Kate said gently, glancing toward the patio window where King and Janice had vanished. “King mentioned it, but when I asked why, he just stalked off without answering. Why, Shelby?”
“I came because King asked me here to recuperate,” she admitted softly. “Now, he thinks I have and he…he asked me to leave.”
“Oh,” Kate said, taken aback.
Shelby sighed miserably. “Not that I don’t want to go,” she said quickly. “Getting back to work will do me good.”
“But I thought your mother…?” Kate exclaimed.
Shelby shook her head with a smile. “There was nothing left and, in a way, I’m glad. She enjoyed her wealth. It wasn’t her responsibility to provide for me all my life. I have to earn my own way, as she earned hers.”
“Oh, my dear,” Kate murmured gently.
“I think I’ll go upstairs and pack,” she said, rising. “It’s late and I don’t feel very well.”
“I know,” Kate replied. “You have a very expressive face, Shelby. I can almost feel the hurt for you. I wish that my eldest son wasn’t quite so blind.”
“Janice is King’s kind of woman,” she murmured. “Poised and sophisticated, and sure of herself. I’m none of those things. All I have is a face, and when it starts showing wrinkles, I won’t have a career.” She smiled wistfully. “Sometimes I wish I’d been born ugly. At least then men wouldn’t mistake me for a fashion plate without brains or emotions. I’m just a walking glossy photograph to King.”
“I’m sorry, Shelby,” Kate said, and her pale blue eyes were gentle. “I do wish things had worked out differently.”
“Is Danny coming home tonight?” she asked suddenly.
“No, dear, he called late this afternoon to tell me that Mary Kate was spending the weekend in San Antonio with a girlfriend so that the two of them could spend tomorrow with some friends in the mountains.”
Her heart sank. She needed to talk to someone; but maybe Edie would be at the apartment. She nodded. “I still can’t understand why he wanted to pretend we were engaged,” she murmured. “He really cares for Mary Kate.”
The older woman sighed. “It’s a long story, my dear, and maybe I can tell you about it one day. Is King going to fly you home?”
“No!” she said quickly, flushing.
Kate nodded understandingly. “I’ll drive you to town myself, Shelby, and put you on a plane. All right?”
“Thank you so much,” Shelby said genuinely.
“I only wish you weren’t going. You’ll come again, soon?”
“Of course,” she said politely, knowing even as she said it that she never would.
She went out into the hall just as King and Janice came back in. He drew the sleek brunette close by his side, and his face was liberally stained with pale pink lipstick. One eyebrow went up at the drawn look on Shelby’s face.
“Turning in?” he asked coolly.
She nodded. “It…it’s late, and I have to get an early start in the morning. I’m modeling in a fall showing of Jomar fashions.”
“Jomar! How lovely,” Janice cooed, “I do adore his designs.”
“So do I,” Shelby admitted, “although I only get to model them. I couldn’t afford even a blouse with that label.”
“You should have tried a little harder, honey,” King said with a malicious smile. “You came closer than you knew.”
“What?” Shelby asked softly, blinking at the sharp cut of his voice.
His eyes narrowed. “Your mother didn’t leave you anything but a handful of debts, did she, Shelby? And you made damned sure I didn’t know about it. Are you going to try and convince me that you didn’t have a wedding ring in mind when you played up to me? God, I could have solved all your problems, couldn’t I?”
Shelby’s face went paper white. Where had he gotten such a ridiculous idea…her eyes turned toward Janice’s face and caught the tail end of a triumphant smile.
“I read all about it in my latest issue of the Hollywood news,” Janice said sweetly. “Didn’t you think it would come out about how poor your mother was when she killed herself?”
Ashen, Shelby turned and started wearily up the stairs.
“It was suicide, wasn’t it?” Janice persisted. “How sad. I suppose it’s some kind of inherent weakness. Hereditary, probably, too. Do you have suicidal tendencies, Shelby?”
“Let’s have a drink,” King said suddenly, drawing Janice toward the living room. “Let the little girl go to bed.”
“Anything you say, sugar,” Janice cooed.
Shelby went into her room and closed the door behind her.
King was still upstairs when she left the ranch the next morning in Kate Brannt’s car, dry-eyed. This time the hurt had gone too deep for tears.
The days went by in a blur of activity as Shelby threw herself into her work with a vengeance. Edie tried tactfully to slow her down, but nothing would make her slacken the breakneck pace. Finally, in desperation, Edie appealed to Danny, who showed up early one Friday night as Shelby was getting ready to model at an evening fashion show.
“I’m sorry, Danny, I haven’t time to talk,” she said, feverishly sweeping the apartment in the sleek, sequined black dress she was to show, looking everywhere for the small matching purse. “I only have an hour.”
“It won’t take an hour,” he said quietly. His eyes studied her closely. “You’re going to fall down if you don’t slow down,” he said. “You’re nothing but skin and bones.”
“My diet…”
“Don’t be funny, I’m not buying it.” He jammed his hands in the pockets of his beige trousers. “He’s really outdone himself this time.”
“He, who?” she muttered as she searched under a sofa cushion and produced the missing bag.
“You know who. What did King say to you this time?”
“He said go home. And I did. End of story.” She smiled at him. “Want to come watch me work?”
He returned the smile, but without enthusiasm. “Just, go home?” he persisted.
“That’s it. Don’t third-degree me, okay?”
“He looks worse than you do,” he said.
Her heart jumped, but she nerved herself not to care what King looked like.
“He works too hard,” she replied.
“Both of you.” Still watching her, he dropped down into an armchair and leaned forward, propping his forearms across his knees. “I tried to fly out to California when your mother died, did King ever tell you?”
She shook her head, making a big production of rearranging one small strand of hair at her ear in the hall mirror.
“He wouldn’t let me come.” He laughed softly. “My God, I’ve never seen King move that fast in all my life. He’d cancelled two meetings, passed up a filly he’d have killed for at a foundation sale, had the plane serviced and was airborne less than fifteen minutes after he heard you’d gone to California for the funeral.”
She turned, staring at him. “But…he hates me,” she said unsteadily.
“Then hating you must do strange things to him,” Danny told her, “because he hasn’t been himself for the past six months. All anybody had to do was mention your name and he’d fly into a rage. He’s been like that ever since your last visit, when you left walking in the middle of the night.” He eyed her quietly. “You didn’t know that he spent the better part of three hours looking for you all over the ranch that night, did you? Or that he rousted ten of the boys out of bed to help him? Or that, when he found out you were all right, he took a bottle of bourbon whiskey to bed with him and couldn’t lift his head the next morning.”
Her face was pale when he finished, but she couldn’t manage a single word.
“So mother and I figured that what was wrong with King was you,” he continued. “And we came up with the idea of pretending you were engaged to me, just to se
e what effect it would have.” He shook his head. “Boy,” he said, “what an effect it had!”
“He just didn’t want you getting mixed up with somebody like me,” she murmured. “He told me so.”
“Bull,” he grumbled. “He couldn’t stand the idea of your marrying me because he wanted you himself.”
“He’s got a girlfriend,” she replied, turning away.
“Janice, you mean?” he replied foxily. “How strange that he hasn’t gone near her since the night you left.”
“I don’t care,” she told him, her brown eyes wide and cool, despite her inner turmoil. “I never want to see King again as long as I live, Danny!”
He grinned. “You do love him!”
“Oh!” She turned away and opened the door. “I’ve really got to go, Danny. I have this show tonight, and another one at Jim Almond’s in the morning,” she added, naming one of the exclusive department stores downtown.
“All right. I’ll be back. No hard feelings, Shelby?” he asked, serious now.
She smiled at him. “I like you very much. You can’t really help it that you’ve got a rattlesnake for a brother.”
He chuckled. “That’s big of you,” he said.
She sighed. “It truly is. See you.”
All the rest of the night, her mind was on what Danny had told her. It would have been so wonderful if he’d been right—if King had cared. But she knew all too well that he didn’t. He wanted her, which was something entirely different. And he didn’t want her around him even though she attracted him physically. She really believed that he did hate her. And the ache was as potent as an open wound with salt in it.
The Jomar showing at Jim Almond’s was exciting. He was one of Shelby’s favorite designers, and she had an affection for the wiry little New Yorker.
She enjoyed the fit of the clothes so well that she paid more attention to the announcer’s description of what she was wearing than she did to the music or the people in the audience as she went down the aisle.
“…and it’s the Western look this fall,” the announcer was cooing, “with mix and match skirts and blouses. Here’s Shelby in a two-piece casual suede suit, featuring a split skirt highlighted by cowgirl boots and a tasseled vest with a cream colored silk blouse and brown and cream necktie. Isn’t she the picture of Western vitality?” the graying female announcer continued.
Shelby moved down the runway, opening the vest, gesturing toward the leather boots as she paused at the first row of chairs…and almost tripped when she spotted the tall, quiet man on the aisle wearing an elegantly cut brown casual suit with real cowboy boots and a cream-colored Stetson in the chair beside him.
“King!” she whispered, freezing in front of him.
Nine
She stood like a doe in the hunter’s sights, ready to spring away, her eyes wide and frightened as they met the dark determination in his.
“I want to talk to you,” he said gruffly, leaning forward in the chair.
Her mouth opened, closed. I hate you, she wanted to tell him, but the words wouldn’t come.
“Isn’t she a dream?” the announcer’s voice boomed out. “In that outfit, she looks ready for some rugged cowboy to swing her up and carry her off into the sunset, doesn’t she?”
“Which isn’t a hell of a bad idea,” King said with narrowed eyes. He stood up, towering over her, and abruptly handed her his hat. “Here, hold this,” he said.
She took it without thinking. He bent suddenly and swung her up in his hard arms, ignoring her surprised exclamation and looks from the audience. The announcer loved it, exclaiming as King carried her, struggling, out the door, “see what I mean?”
“King, you can’t do this!” she protested as he carried her through the crowded streets, attracting attention like a magnet as he walked toward a nearby parking lot.
“I’m doing it,” he replied coolly.
“Put me down!” she cried, twisting in his steely grasp. “People are staring at us, King!”
“Let them stare.”
She hit his broad chest with her fist. “I hate you,” she wept piteously. “I hate you!”
He blinked, and a shadow passed over his face, but he didn’t relent. “I know that,” he replied quietly.
“If you don’t put me down, I’m going to scream,” she threatened.
He didn’t break stride, or look at her. “Go ahead.”
She looked around at the amused faces and decided that screaming probably wouldn’t accomplish anything except to make those grins wider. She held herself stiffly until he reached the car and swung her down beside it.
He unlocked the door and put her in the small black sports car, going quickly around to get in beside her. She handed him his Stetson jerkily as her eyes rested on a newspaper folded to the society page. A picture of her was in a prominent place with a blaring headline under it—Model to Wed Heir to Brannt Fortune—Shelby Kane Will Become Bride of King Brannt in September.
“Now you know why I’m here,” King said gruffly.
She stared at the newspaper with eyes blurred by sudden tears. So Danny had gone this far playing Cupid—announcing an engagement that hadn’t happened to see what effect that would have on his older brother. And now King was going to blame Shelby for it, and she didn’t think she could bear his temper again.
With a sob, she jerked open the door and was out of the car before King could catch her. She ran blindly out of the parking lot toward the street, and stepped off the curb just in time to be right in the path of a barrelling semi.
“Shelby!” She thought she’d never heard that particular note in a human voice before. It didn’t even sound like King. But when she felt the lean, whipcord arms go around her, dragging her out of the path of the truck, she knew who they belonged to.
He crushed her body against his, and he was shaking like a leaf. King, shaking!
“Oh, my God, another second…!” he ground out at her ear. His arms tightened painfully. “You damned little fool!”
She bit her lip on a sob and closed her eyes. “Why did you pull me back?” she whispered brokenly. “It would have been better…”
“No!” he whispered huskily. “No, don’t ever say that! Not ever, Shelby!” He drew back and looked down at her wet face. His own was ashen. He looked like a man who’d seen death face to face. His hand reached out to brush the hair away from her cheek. “I always manage to say the wrong thing to you,” he said tightly. “Or do the wrong thing. I should have left well enough alone.”
She chewed on her lower lip, brushing at a stray tear. “Why did you…but I know why, don’t I?” she wept.
He drew in a short breath. “There’s a café by the river,” he said solemnly. “Let’s have a cup of coffee before I take you back.”
She let him lead her to the sidewalk café and seat her at a small round table within easy steps of the river that ran through San Antonio. It was like being out in the country in the middle of town, and somewhere nearby was the sound of Mexican music.
She sipped her coffee in silence, not daring to look up. It hurt all the way to her soul, having to be with King these precious last minutes before she lost him forever. And she still hadn’t explained that she didn’t put the wedding announcement in the paper. If he’d even believe her.
“Are you all right?” he asked tightly.
She nodded. “Just a little shaken,” she admitted, darting a glance at him. “Have you seen Danny lately?”
“This morning,” he replied. His lean fingers circled the coffee cup. “He told me where you were.”
“Oh.” She sipped the strong black coffee. “I…I didn’t do it,” she whispered. “I know you won’t believe me, but I didn’t do it, King.”
He stared at her blankly, and she wondered if he’d even heard her. His eyes were almost black, and there were new lines carved into his hard face.
“What’s wrong?” she asked gently.
His eyebrow jerked, but he wouldn’t answer her. “Fin
ish your coffee,” he said coolly. “I’ve got to get home.”
She dropped her eyes. “Why did you bother to come?” she whispered.
“God knows,” he growled. “It was insanity.”
“Danny meant well,” she murmured.
“So he told me.” He finished the coffee in a swallow. “I may break his neck yet.”
“They can always print a retraction,” she said softly, looking up into his dark eyes.
His jaw went taut. “So they can.”
“Did…did Janice see it?” she asked hesitantly.
“How the hell should I know?” he asked hotly. “I haven’t seen her for weeks.”
“But….”
“But, what?” he growled.
“Nothing.”
“Have you eaten anything this week?” he asked angrily, his dark eyes tracing the thin lines of her body.
“Models have to be slender,” she muttered.
“Not skeletal,” he argued. “My God, Shelby, you look like a walking corpse!”
Her full lower lip pouted. “What do you care?” she asked thinly. “How I live my life is none of your business!”
His jaw worked jerkily. “Yes, you’ve just given me proof of that,” he replied huskily. “You’d jump in front of a damned truck to keep me out of it, wouldn’t you, baby?”
She stared at him blankly. “What do you mean?”
“It’s a little late for soul-searching.” He stood up with the check. “Do you want anything else before we go?” he asked.
She shook her head. Her eyes followed him to the inside counter where he paid the bill. If only things had worked out differently, she thought with a wistful smile. Even if he hadn’t loved her, what she felt for him would have made up for it. And after she’d given him a son…
A son. King would love that, having an heir for Skylance. A little boy with black hair and dark brown eyes, and she could give him all the love King didn’t want.
He came striding back toward her, his step quick and sharp, impatient.