Lacy

by Diana Palmer

  He let his dark eyes slide down the length of her supple young body. He felt himself stirring again, and watched her amused gaze drop to find the evidence of it.

  "I don't think I can let you out of my sight, to tell the truth," he said dryly, looming over her.

  She lifted her arms around his neck and surged upward as his warm, hard weight settled exactly over her own eager body. "I was hoping you might say that," she whispered into his approaching mouth. She reached out and touched him, stroked him, her eyes as wild and passionate as his own. "Let me show you something different..." she whispered, and laughed delightedly as he grimaced and clenched his teeth.

  He felt himself losing control. His eyes closed as her fingers worked magic on him. And just before she arched her hips and swallowed him up, he remembered thinking that she was much more addictive than any alcohol he'd ever had —

  MORNING WAS BREAKING over Chicago, leaving the city in a warm golden glow. Katy Whitehall stretched at the window, her eyes searching southward wistfully. She wondered if Turk had even missed her. She missed him more every minute. But she'd get over him. Somehow, she'd get over him.

  There was a knock on her door. She turned as Danny's mother, Mrs. Bella Marlone, came in with a cup of coffee.

  "Here, is good coffee, I make," the very rounded elderly lady murmured, her hair in a bun, silvery wisps escaping it, a beige dress neatly belted around her ample middle. She smiled at Katy, dark eyes flashing. "So nice, that you and my Danny gonna get married," she said warmly. "I like this, having a nice young girl around to talk to me. You don't mind, that you and Danny live with me?" she added, worriedly. "In Italy, you know, not the same as here. Family molto importante.. .very important."

  "I understand that," Katy replied. "My family is very close."

  Mrs. Marlone nodded. She sat down in a chair by the bed, watching Katy perch on the edge of the coverlet and sip her coffee. "Danny say the ceremony be Monday," she said out of the blue.

  Katy's hand trembled, but she kept it steady. So quickly! But that might be best. She wouldn't have time for second thoughts, for rushing back to Spanish Flats. As if there were any reason to rush back. After all, Turk didn't want her-—not for keeps. He never would.

  "Monday. That will be nice," Katy agreed warmly. "I'll take care of him," she added slowly.

  "We both take care of him," Mama Marlone said firmly. "I cook for him, clean, look after the bambinos when they come. You have plenty of time to stay pretty for my boy."

  So that was how it would be, Katy thought wistfully. A live-in mother-in-law with a domineering personality—who lived only to provide the best for her son. She sighed. This was going to be a problem.

  She told Danny so later, and he frowned.

  "Now, look, babe," he said slowly, pulling her into his arms, "I'm all Mama's got in this country. If you don't like it, I'm sorry. But I can't throw her out in the street. She's made a lot of sacrifices for me."

  "I didn't mean it like that," Katy said, trying to pacify him. She looped her arms around him with a forced smile. "I'll help you look after her," she said, making her first peace offering.

  "That's my girl." He bent, smiling, and kissed her. This was pleasant, she thought. Very nice, very different from Turk's possessive, feverish kisses. She closed her eyes more tightly, trying to forget.

  Danny was trembling when he let her go, his face flushed, his hands hot on her breasts under her loose-fitting blouse. "I want you," he whispered roughly.

  "Monday," she whispered back, smiling.

  "I'll die," he groaned.

  "Not likely." She laughed. Her eyes searched his and she sobered. "Danny, does it matter to you that I'm not a virgin?"

  "Hell, no "he said honestly. "I'm glad, if you want the truth. It will be good for us, even the first time together. I'll treat you right, honey. Now come on downstairs. I want you to meet a couple of my buddies."

  His buddies looked like dyed-in-the-wool mobsters. Grange was tall and big and dark and didn't volunteer a single word. Sammy was short and lean and had eyes that bulged just a little. Katy nodded as they were introduced.

  Grange nodded back. Sammy grinned crookedly.

  "Grange is my driver," Danny told her, puffing on a cigar. "And Sammy here, he runs errands. Anybody does me dirt, Sammy takes care of them. Know what I mean?"

  He couldn't mean...? Of course not, she told herself firmly. She'd read too many books. She pushed back her long hair and grinned.

  "I'll feel safe with you two around," she told them.

  "You'll be safe," Grange said, his voice dull and deep. "Me and Sammy won't let nothing hurt the boss's moll."

  "You bet." Sammy chuckled. He patted his inside jacket pocket softly. "We'll protect you from hoods and such, Miss."

  The and such sounded ominous. She glanced up at Danny worriedly.

  "Don't go getting hysterical," he said gently. "I make a few enemies along the way, but it ain't nothing to worry about. Grange and Sammy can handle it."

  "Well, if you're sure..."

  "Sure I am!" He chuckled. "Come on. I'm going to buy you the damndest wedding gown. Say, kid. You want your family to come to the wedding?"

  She did, but she could imagine Cole or Turk showing up and her blood froze. "No," she said quietly. "I'd really rather have a very quiet, private ceremony."

  "Yeah. Me, too. And a quick one," he added, with such a tor­mented expression that she laughed.

  The word reached the ranch Monday evening that Katy and her Chicago boyfriend were officially married.

  Cole read the telegram to Marion and Lacy and left it with them as he went out to find Turk and give him the news. He wasn't looking forward to it. He'd noticed a change in his friend since Katy's abrupt departure. He was disturbed by what had happened, and he wondered if he hadn't somehow caused it all by refusing to let Turk near Katy. If Katy'd felt that way about the ex-flyer, how had he felt about her? And now it was too late for both of them, and Cole felt responsible.

  Turk was saddling a horse when Cole found him in the stables.

  "Hello, boss." The younger man grinned, pushing his wide-brimmed hat back on his head as he tightened the cinch. "Looks like a nice, cool day."

  Cole nodded absently. He rolled a cigarette and lit it before he said anything else. He leaned back against a stable wall, his dark eyes quiet and steady.

  "I thought you'd rather hear this from me. Katy's married."

  Turk's eyelids flinched. Just that. Nothing more. He turned back to the horse, jerking the cinch so that the animal shifted restlessly and had to be calmed. "To that Chicago gangster?" came the terse question.

  "That's the boy," Cole answered. He took a draw from the cigarette. "They're going to live with his mother."

  "What a hell of a great start for a marriage ."Turk laughed, but the grayness of his eyes darkened as he turned back to give the saddled animal to one of the cowboys. The man had sprained his wrist, and Turk had to help him into the saddle, but the diehard wouldn't stay in bed like the doctor had told him. Turk made some offhand remark about his stubbornness, and Cole watched, not fooled by the casual conversation. Turk was cut up inside. Cole knew it without a word being spoken.

  When the cowboy left, Cole took a draw from his cigarette and resumed the conversation. "Katy couldn't manage enough grit to tell me herself. She sent a telegram."

  "How's your mother taking it?"Turk asked as he fixed a bridle that didn't need fixing.

  "Very well. I was surprised. Lacy looks a bit disturbed. She hadn't met the man, you know, and Katy's half her heart. They've lived in each other's pockets for years."

  Turk turned, studying the taciturn man against the wall. "What do you think?"

  "I'd like to kill the son of a bitch," Cole said calmly.

  "Yeah. So would I."Turk moved away from the horse, leaving him hitched to the stall, and held out his hand for the makings.

  Cole tossed them to him, watching him roll a cigarette with remarkably steady fingers. Tha
t had been one of the pilots' trademarks during the war, that cool nerve. Nothing ever seemed to rattle him. It was something he had in common with Cole.

  "For God's sake, say something," Cole shot at him. "This is me, remember? I know you like a brother, so stop pretending you don't give a damn."

  Turk looked up, his gray eyes quiet and dull. "What can I say? You're the one who told me to keep my hands off her."

  "I thought she'd be one in a line," Cole said matter-of-factly. "You don't have a hell of a great record with women. You collect scalps, son."

  "After I lost my wife, there didn't seem to be much reason not to," he answered shortly. "I didn't think I had anything to offer." "And now?"

  The big shoulders shrugged. He stared down at his worn, dusty boots. "I think about Katy all the time," he confessed, his voice hesitant. "I took all that damned hero worship for granted. Now I'd give anything to have her look at me that way." His eyes closed on a wave of unexpected pain. "Oh, God, it makes me sick. I ran her off, Cole. It's my doing. My fault. I told her I had nothing to give, that she'd wear her heart out on me. I suppose it was the last straw for her." He drew in a breath of smoke and let it out. "She left minutes later." He didn't add what had happened, really happened, in that barn. Cole was still the only friend he had. If Cole knew the truth, he didn't know how he might react.

  "I can take part of the blame," Cole said patiently. "Maybe if I hadn't said anything to you about her..."

  Turk smiled ruefully. "You were only trying to protect her. I'm a rounder; we both know how much I love the ladies. But it was never like that with Katy, Cole. I couldn't take her in my stride and treat her like some cheap conquest. She was always special."

  "Maybe he'll be good to her," the taller man said hesitantly.

  "Maybe ducks will win elections,"Turk said, scoffing. He stared at the tip of his cigarette. "Hell, it makes me sick to my stomach to think of her with that slick-talking gangster!"

  "Gas up the plane," Cole said, only half-jokingly. "We'll fly up to Chicago and strafe him."

  Turk managed a smile that he didn't really feel. He searched his friend's dark, steady eyes. "There's too much Indian in you, sometimes. You have a taste for vengeance that may do you in one of these days."

  Cole's thin mouth tugged up. "I'm emotional." "It never shows."Turk pursed his lips. "Why don't you tell Lacy the truth?"

  The smile faded. "Watch out," Cole warned gently. "There's a line even you can't cross with me."

  "Go ahead, punch me,"Turk said. "But I'll say it anyway. You're wrong about Lacy. She's tough. And if you don't watch it, you could lose her again."

  "Not if I can help it," the older man said involuntarily.

  "Then stop playing your cards so close to your chest. You're worse than I am about hiding what you feel." He lifted the cigarette to his mouth again, and a cloud of smoke separated them. "She has to feel something for you, or she wouldn't have come back, Cole. Think about that."

  "I've thought about it," he ground out. He sighed heavily, his eyes searching the horizon. "I've made a hell of a mess of it. I hurt her..." He actually reddened, averting his eyes.

  Turk studied him carefully. It could be dangerous to push him too far, but he didn't want to see the man hurt anymore. He chose his words before he spoke. "Sometimes it's difficult for a woman the first time. Women aren't like us; they have to get worked up to it."

  Cole literally gaped at him. "They what?"

  Turk struck his hands in his pockets. "They have to be aroused. It hurts them if they're not, even if it isn't the first time." He studied the quiet, still features. "You didn't know."

  Cole sighed heavily. He smoked a cigarette, his eyes still on the horizon. "My God, no wonder... "he breathed. "No,"he said harshly. "I didn't know." He glared at the blond man. "Go ahead. Laugh!"

  Turk shook his head. "Not at you. Never at you. I understand better than anyone. After all, I know the whole story," he said quietly. "It's nothing to be embarrassed about."

  "Isn't it?" He stared down at the ground, a faint reddish flush on his lean cheeks. "I'd rather die than let her know."

  "She doesn't have to, if you're careful," Turk said. His narrowed eyes met the older man's. "You can make her want you."

  Cole's teeth ground together. It was killing his pride, but what he felt for Lacy was even stronger. Well, hell; Turk was his friend, wasn't he? The one person in the world who knew why he was like he was. "How?" he asked shortly.

  "Make her tell you what she likes you to do,"Turk said gently, his voice not condescending or amused. "That sounds damned sophisticated; it turns women wild. Act confidently. Watch her reactions and pretend you know what you're doing, even if you don't. It takes stealth," he added, with a faint smile. "It's like planning a campaign, old son. You get the objective in sight and work your way to it by inches."

  "How can I tell when she's ready?" he asked quietly.

  Turk told him, without embarrassment, the subtle signs of a woman's arousal. "There's one other thing," he added. "When a woman is enjoying it, don't look for her to smile. She'll look as if she'd being torn apart. She may cry or whimper or bite and scratch you. Don't be afraid that you're hurting her. She'll tell you if you are. Pleasure and pain are sometimes twins in appearance. It's in your favor that she doesn't know any more about it than you do," he added dryly. "You don't know what an advantage that is!"

  "Hell of a thing," Cole said, with a sigh, studying his cigarette. "To get to my age and be so damned stupid. But before the war, I had the responsibility of supporting the family after Dad died. Afterward..." His face lifted, his eyes darkly tormented. "Afterward, I didn't have the guts to try. Lacy will never know the hell it was to find myself forced into marriage with her. I've always wanted her, Turk. But I can't stomach pity. I couldn't know how she'd react unless I let her see..." His eyes closed briefly and he looked away. He lifted the cigarette to his thin lips again. "Fighting Germans was one thing. Facing Lacy with.. .that.. .is another thing entirely."

  "Still sorry I took that pistol away from you, aren't you, cowboy?"Turk taunted. "Well, I'm not sorry. And one day, you won't be sorry, either. Lacy is one of those rare women. You'll fine) that out. And if you'll go slow with her, and do what I told you, you may find yourself blessed in ways you never suspected."

  "How the hell did you learn so much about women?" Cole asked curiously.

  "They always seemed to fall into my arms,"Turk said, chuckling. "And marriage is a great teacher. It's exciting to go on journeys of discovery with your woman, to find all the ways you can please her and be pleased by her." He searched the older man's eyes. "That's more exciting than a full-scale battle." "Experience helps a little." Cole sighed. "Getting it is better. More fun,"Turk said, grinning. Cole finished his cigarette. "It would be easier if I had a little more time with her. But right now, things are rough. Getting rougher, too," he added, with a meaningful glance toward the cattle over the fence. "Look at the poor bastards. I can't get enough feed—can't afford enough feed—to get them through the winter. Without them, I'll never meet the notes at the bank. And old Henry sure as hell wants this ranch. He foreclosed on Johnson, and Johnson owed less than I do."

  "You've got friends," Turk reminded him. "Your neighbors have known you all your life, and all theirs. You've done a lot for them. They won't forget. If it comes down to a fight, they'll stand behind you."

  "What can they do? The economy's killing us all. They keep talking about damned prosperity, but look around you. Farmers are going bust everywhere. Maybe it's great on Wall Street, but we're a long way from New York. I think we're heading for disaster. It's too good to be true, that financial upswing. It's not natural."

  "The war inflated everything,"Turk said. "Now that it's over, a lot of people are out of work. And it's worse for farmers and ranchers than it is for business people. I wish to God Coolidge would do something."

  "Give him time," Cole replied. "He's only just got into office. Maybe he will."

  "Mayb
e."Turk tossed his cigarette into the dirt and ground it out under his heel. "I guess I'll go ride the fence line. I'm depressed enough to dig postholes today."

  "Don't let it get to you, about Katy," Cole said as the younger man mounted his gelding. "She's a Whitehall. She'll manage."

  "Sure."Turk lifted his hat over his eyes. "It's for the best. What could I offer her?"

  "Maybe more than you realize," the older man replied. "At any rate, I'm sorry I fixed things for you. Katy's special to me, too."

  Turk managed a smile. "See you."

  Cole watched him ride off with mixed emotions. He seemed to be fouling everything up lately. It was his marriage, of course. It was what he felt for Lacy turning him inside out. He wanted her. More than anything, he wanted a good marriage. But he knew so little about women, and he had deep emotional scars and a secret he could hardly bear to share with anyone. Especially with a woman.

  Lacy. His mind went back a few nights, to that warm, slow kiss he'd exchanged with her, to the conversation they'd had. She seemed as eager as he to make their marriage work. She'd trembled when he'd kissed her. He wished he'd felt a little more confident, so that he could have assessed the exact extent of her involvement.

  Now that he knew the signs, perhaps he could grow bolder with her. He hadn't touched her again, not even to kiss her. They'd talked, and once he'd taken her walking down the path to the cold little stream running between the barren trees. But he hadn't tried to make love to her, even though he'd shared the bed with her. That hadn't been easy, sleeping with the scent and warmth of her beside him in the darkness. He'd had to force himself to work later and later, so that she was usually asleep when he came in at night. But he had the oddest feeling that she wanted him to make love to her. Only how could he do that, make love to her, fully dressed, and not have her ask why?

  He groaned aloud as he finished his cigarette. Perhaps as time went by, as he learned to trust her, he might get over his apprehension. God, he wanted to! He wanted to strip that soft, warm body and see it, in the light, and touch it. He wanted to make her cry out; he wanted to see her face contorted with longing for him. He went hot all over just thinking about it.