by Daina Palmer
"Every bit," he replied narrowly. "Even Marsha married me as much for what I have as what I was. She told me she couldn't endure being married to a man who worked for wages. She was pretty and I wanted her. But long before the accident, I regretted marrying her."
Would it be that way with Pepi, too, she wondered. Would he be that resentful of her? He already disliked the way they'd been married.
"You must have missed her, though," she said gently.
"I missed her," he agreed. "I missed the child more. God, it was hard living with that! If I'd had any idea, any idea at all that she was pregnant, I'd never have let her in the raft. But she was too possessive to let me go alone. There were two other women in the rafting party, and she'd convinced herself that I wanted both of them."
She studied his hard face. "Didn't she know that you aren't the kind of man who'd forsake any vow he made?" she said after a minute.
His head came up and his dark eyes glittered into hers. "If you believe that, why did you look so accusing when I came back from taking Edie home? Were you picturing me in bed with her?"
She blushed. "There's a big difference between taking a vow voluntarily and taking one when you're out of your mind on tequila," she said with wan pride. "You didn't get married out of choice, this time." She picked up her napkin and stroked the embossed design. "It's not going to work, C.C," she added wearily.
"Oh, hell, yes, it is," he said tersely. He finished his coffee. "I'm still in the adjustment stage, that's all. Until recently I thought of you as Ben's tomboy teenage daughter."
So that was it. Probably she still acted like one, too. But it was beyond her abilities to pretend a sophistication she didn't have.
"Or your nursemaid," she mused, smiling a little. "That's what you said in Juarez, that since I was always playing nursemaid, we might as well get married so I'd have an excuse."
"You've always looked out for me," he said quietly. "I never thought of you in a physical way, Pepi. It was as much a shock for me as it was for you that morning in the kitchen when your father interrupted us," he added, his eyes glittery under his thick lashes.
She averted her gaze. She remembered, too. It had been the sexiest kind of lovemaking, but he hadn't even kissed her.
"If things had happened naturally," he continued, his voice deepened, "it wouldn't have affected me the way it did."
"They wouldn't have happened naturally, and you know it, C.C," she told him, her eyes a little sad as they met his. "You'd never in a million years have wanted somebody like me. I guess if this hadn't come up, you'd have married Edie eventually."
"Didn't you hear a word I just said, about why Edie kept going out with me?" he asked irritably.
"Edie loves you," she muttered. "I'm not blind, even if you're trying to be. She genuinely cared about you. No woman is completely mercenary, and there's a lot more to you than just the size of your wallet."
He lifted an eyebrow. "Really? Name something."
"You're kind," she said, taking the sarcasm at face value. "You don't go out of your way to start fights, but you'll stand your ground when it's necessary. You're fair and open-minded when it counts, and you have a lot of heart."
He stared at her. "I thought you didn't care enough about me to want to stay married to me?" he murmured, touched by her opinion of him.
"And I'll remind you again that you're the one who wanted the annulment and went storming off in a suit to get it," she shot back. "I still don't understand what changed your mind while you were away."
"Evan did," he said after a minute. "He accused me of running from commitment." He paused to light a cigarette, staring absently at his lighter before he repock-eted it. "I guess in a way he was right. I couldn't bear the thought of another Marsha, another possessive woman smothering me. I couldn't bear the thought, either, that tragedy could repeat itself, because I was still working out the guilt I felt over Marsha's death. Evan said that I should keep you, if you were brave enough to take me on," he added, staring at her quietly. "He thought you sounded like exactly the kind of woman I needed. And maybe he was right, Pepi. The last thing you are is possessive."
She could have laughed out loud at that! Of course she was possessive; she loved him. But he obviously didn't want a woman who cared deeply about him. He wanted a shallow relationship that would allow him to remain heart-free and independent, and she couldn't settle for that.
"All the same, I'm not sure I can handle this," Pepi confessed. "You'll never get over the fact that it was an accidental marriage. Even a few minutes ago, when you were upset about Edie, you threw it up to me."
"Haven't you been doing the same thing, about what I said to you before I left to visit my brothers in Jacobs-ville?" he countered.
She shrugged. "I guess I have. But we're two pretty different people, C.C, and I won't ever get used to a rich life-style or high society," she said honestly. "I'm not a social animal."
His face went hard. "You don't think you can live with me as I am?"
"I could have lived very well with my father's foreman, who was just an ordinary working man," she replied. "I'm made for cooking and cleaning, for taking care of a house and raising a family. I'm just not cut out for society bashes, and no matter how hard you try to change me, you'll never get the country out of me."
He lifted his chin, his eyes narrowing on her face. "Do I strike you as the kind of man who lives from party to party?" he asked.
"You've been hiding out for three years," Pepi reminded him, "living a life-style that probably wasn't a patch on the one you left behind. I don't know anything about that side of your life at all."
"Would you like to?" he asked. "We could go to Jacobsville and visit my family for a few days."
She hesitated. Harden intimidated her, but she liked Evan well enough. "What's your mother like?" she asked.
He smiled. "She's like Evan," he replied. "She's dry and capable and easy to like. She'll like you, too."
"Harden doesn't like me," she said.
"Harden doesn't like women, sweetheart," he said gently. "Despite the fact that he's got a face like a dark angel and the charm to match, he's the original woman-hater."
"Then it wasn't just me," she said, a little relieved.
"It wasn't. He hates our mother most of all," he added quietly. "That's why he doesn't live at home. Evan does, because it's too much of a burden for Mother, but Harden has an apartment in Houston, where our offices are located."
She wanted to follow up on that, but it probably wasn't the best time to start probing into family secrets.
"I guess we'd have to stay in the same room?" she asked worriedly.
His dark eyes searched hers in a warm silence. "Yes."
"Twin beds?" she asked hopefully.
He shook his head.
"Oh." She toyed with her fork, going warm all over at the thought of sleeping with him.
"Want to back out?" he challenged softly.
She lifted her eyes to his and hesitated. Then she gave in, all at once. She loved him. If he wanted to try to make their marriage work, this was the first step. He seemed adamant about not getting an annulment, and she didn't really want one, either.
"No," she said. "I don't want to back out."
His face tautened and he seemed to have a hard time breathing. "Brave words," he said huskily. "Suppose I have more in mind than sharing a pillow with you?"
She gnawed on her lower lip. "That's inevitable, isn't it?" she asked hesitantly. "If we stay married, I mean."
He nodded. "I won't settle for a platonic marriage. I want a child, Pepi," he added, his voice deeper, slower as he stared into her eyes.
She stared at her hands, neatly folded in front of her on the table. "I'd like that. I'm just a little nervous about it, that's all. Most women these days are experienced."
"You can't imagine what a rare and exquisite thing a virgin bride is to me," he said quietly. "Your innocence excites me, Pepi. Just thinking about our first time makes my knees go we
ak."
It made hers go weak, too, but she didn't think she should admit it. Her eyes glanced off his and away again. "When did you plan for us to visit your family?" she asked instead, changing the subject.
"Tomorrow. My mother wants to meet you. It wouldn't hurt to let her see that I haven't let history repeat itself."
"As if you had much choice." She sighed. "Oh, C.C, I'm so sorry I got us into this mess," she groaned, meeting his dark gaze levelly. "I didn't know what to do. Edie or somebody like her could have coped with it better."
"Edie or somebody like her would have been laughing like hell at my predicament and adding up the settlement all at the same time," he replied. "They wouldn't have flayed themselves with attacks of conscience."
"Wouldn't you like to get an annulment, anyway?" she asked him. "Then, you'd have the right to choose. . ."
"Is it the damned redheaded vet after all?" he shot back, suddenly dark-faced with rage. "Well, is it?"
"What do you mean?" she faltered, staggered by the venom in the attack.
He leaned forward, his eyes like black fires burning in his lean face. "You know what I mean. He's in love with you. Was it mutual? Is he why you're so single-minded about that annulment, so you can dump me and marry him?"
"Brandon did ask me to marry him, but. . ." she began.
"But you did your Florence Nightingale act and followed me to Juarez," he said angrily. "Well, don't hold your breath until I let you go. We're married, and we're staying married. And I'd better not catch Hale hanging around you, either!"
She gaped at him. "That's not fair!" she tossed right back. "Even if it wasn't a conventional marriage, I take my vows seriously, too!"
"Do you? Prove it," he said tersely.
"Prove it?" she echoed blankly.
"You know where the bunkhouse is," he said with a 'mocking smile.
She averted her angry face. He'd told her that before and she'd refused, asked for time. Now here he was rushing her again, and it felt almost as if he were requesting something horribly immoral. She couldn't help her reticence. She still didn't feel married to him.
"So you still have cold feet?" he taunted. "All right, then. Save your pride. But you'll sleep with me when I take you to visit my family. You gave your word."
"Yes, I know," she said huskily. She folded her napkin neatly and laid it beside her plate. "Could we go now?"
"Of course." He got up and pulled out her chair, pausing to look down at her with troubled dark eyes. "You're going to fight me every step of the way, aren't you?" he asked deeply. "You'll never forget the things I said when I found out about the marriage license."
"It wasn't any surprise, C.C," she replied, looking up at him with quiet pride. "I always knew I wasn't your type of woman. You even warned me once, that morning I came to make black coffee for you when you were hung over. You said you didn't have anything to give and told me not to break my heart over you. There was no need to worry. My heart isn't breaking." That was true. It had already been broken by his cold indifference.
He let out a rough sigh. He'd closed all his doors and now he didn't know how to open them again. All he knew was that if he lost Pepi, there wouldn't be much left of his life.
He paid the bill and led her out to the car. He didn't say anything, driving quickly and efficiently down the long road paralleling the Rio Grande until they were on the turnoff to the ranch. It was wide open country here, and deserted most all the time.
Pepi sat beside him in a rigid silence, toying with her purse. There was a tension between them that disturbed her. Despite his apparent unconcern as he drove, smoking his cigarette without talking, she sensed that he was boiling underneath. Maybe Edie had upset him and he couldn't get over having lost her. She didn't take his remarks about Brandon seriously, because he had to know she wasn't crazy about their vet. Besides, if he'd been jealous, that would mean he cared. And he'd already said he didn't.
She leaned her head back with a faint sigh, anxious to be home, to get this turbulent evening into the past where it belonged.
But C.C. suddenly pulled off into a small grove of trees, their outline dark against the night sky, and cut off the engine.
She opened her eyes and looked at him. In the pale light from the half moon, his eyes looked glittery and dangerous.
"Afraid?" he asked softly.
"N-no," she faltered.
He put out his cigarette and unfastened first his seat belt, then hers. He took the purse out of her hands and laid it on the dash. With deft sureness, he lifted her body across his legs and eased her head back onto the hard muscle of his upper arm.
"Liar," he said quietly, searching her oval face. "You're scared to death. Physical love isn't something to be afraid of, Pepi. It's an exquisite sharing of all that two people are, an intimate expression of mutual respect and need."
He sounded more gentle than he ever had, and some of her apprehension drained away. She rested her cool hand on his dinner jacket as she searched the hard face above hers. Once she'd dreamed of lying in his arms like this, being totally alone with him and wanted by him. But so much had happened in the meantime that it seemed somehow unreal.
"Do you really want me, that way?" she asked, her voice sounding strained and high-pitched.
"You greenhorn," he murmured. He shifted her so that her belly lay against his, and he rotated her hips sharply, letting her feel what happened to him almost instantly. He heard her gasp and felt her stiffen against him. "Does this answer your question?" he asked outrageously, and his steely hand refused to let her draw away from the stark intimacy. "Would you like to know how many years it's been since a woman could turn me on this fast?"
Her fingers clenched on his dinner jacket, but she stopped trying to pull away. The feel of him was drugging her. Her own body began to betray her, reacting unexpectedly to the evidence of his need and lifting closer to it.
He caught his breath. "Pepi!" he ground out.
She felt him tremble with a sense of wonder. She watched his face and repeated the tiny movement of her hips. Yes, he liked it. She could tell by the way his jaw tautened, by the sudden catch of his breath, the stiffening shudder of his body against her.
"Do you.. .like that?" she whispered shyly.
"Yes, I like it!" he groaned. He bent, his free hand tangling in her thick, soft hair, the other going to the base of her spine to hold her even closer. "Do it again, baby," he whispered against her lips. "Do it again, hard. . .!"
His mouth invaded hers. She felt the sudden sharp thrust of his tongue and her body arched as his hand went under the skirt of her dress and up against her stocking-clad leg. He touched her inner thighs, his mouth teasing now, nibbling at her lips while his hand slowly discovered the most intimate things about her trembling body. She couldn't even protest. She loved what he was doing to her.
His hand withdrew and went up her back to the zipper of the dress, to loosen it before he did the same thing with the catch of her lacy bra.
"Don't be afraid," he said softly when she tried feebly to stay the downward movement of his hands. "I want to look at your breasts, Pepi. I want to touch them."
She trembled all over with the words, her eyes lost in his. She gave way, and the dress fell to her waist along with the thin wisp of lace that had hidden her from his rapt stare.
He held her a little away from him, and his dark eyes feasted on her nudity in the dim light. She could feel the tension in him. He didn't move or speak for the longest time, and as she watched, her nipples began to harden under that piercing stare. She didn't understand the contraction, or the way her body arched up faintly, as if enticing him to do more than look.
"It isn't enough, is it, little one?" he asked tenderly. His hands slid under her bare back and he bent his dark head to her body. "You smell of gardenias, Pepi," he whispered. His lips touched the silken swell of her breast, lightly brushing it, and she shivered. He liked that reaction, so he did it again, and again, w
orking his way around, but not touching the hard nipple. Pepi's hands clenched against his chest and she felt her body beginning to throb in a new and scary way.
"C.C," she moaned. "Please. . .it aches so! Make it. . . stop!"
One lean hand slid up her rib cage to tease at the outside edge of her breast. His lips teased some more, until she actually shuddered with the need and began to beg him.
"Sweet," he breathed roughly. And his mouth suddenly opened, taking the hard nipple inside, closing on it with a warm, slow suction that made her cry out. It was like a tiny climax. Her hands tangled convulsively in his hair and she wept, gasping as the pleasure went on and on and on.
"Oh, God. . .!" he ground out, shocked at her capacity for lovemaking. If she could be this aroused when he'd barely touched her, he could hardly imagine how it would be in bed, with her naked body under his, her long, elegant legs enclosing him, holding him, welcoming him as a lover.
"Connal," she whispered shakily. Her lips touched his forehead, his closed eyes, trembling. "Connal, please. Please."
"I can't," he bit off, lifting his head. He could barely speak, his lean hand unsteady on her breast where it rested like a brand of fire while he looked down at his handiwork. "Not here."
"No one would see us," she moaned.
"I can't take the risk," he said heavily. He pulled her to him, wrapping up her bare breasts against the silky fabric of his dinner jacket, rocking her. "Anyone could drive up here, including the county police," he murmured at her ear. His lips brushed her earlobe. "I don't want anyone to see you without your clothes except me. And when we go all the way, I want it to be in a bed, not the front seat of a car."
She shivered, nestling closer. "Does it feel like this, when you go all the way?" she asked huskily.
"Yes," he breathed at her ear. "But it's much more intense." He bit her earlobe and his hands smoothed over her bare back with slow sensuality. "Has Hale seen you like this?" he whispered.
"No," she whispered back. "Nobody has, except you."
He lifted his head and looked down at her, making a meal of her bareness. He touched her nipple, very gently, and watched it harden, felt her shiver. His eyes caught hers. "Much more of this," he said roughly, "and I'll take you sitting up, right here. We'd better go home."