by Diana Palmer
“Almost.”
“What the hell does that mean?” he demanded.
“It means I’ll do it first thing in the morning! ’Night, Dad!”
A door closed.
Quinn glared at Amanda. “That won’t do,” he said tersely. “His homework comes first. Music is a nice hobby, but it’s not going to make a living for him.”
Why not, she almost retorted, it makes a six-figure annual income for me, but she kept her mouth shut.
“I’ll make sure he’s done his homework before I offer to show him anything else on the keyboard. Okay?”
He sighed angrily. “All right. Come on. Let’s go to bed.”
She put her hands over her chest and gasped, her eyes wide and astonished. “Together? Mr. Sutton, really!”
His dark eyes narrowed in a veiled threat. “Hell will freeze over before I wind up in bed with you,” he said icily. “I told you, I don’t want used goods.”
“Your loss,” she sighed, ignoring the impulse to lay a lamp across his thick skull. “Experience is a valuable commodity in my world.” She deliberately smoothed her hands down her waist and over her hips, her eyes faintly coquettish as she watched him watching her movements. “And I’m very experienced,” she drawled. In music, she was.
His jaw tautened. “Yes, it does show,” he said. “Kindly keep your attitudes to yourself. I don’t want my son corrupted.”
“If you really meant that, you’d let him watch movies and listen to rock music and trust him to make up his own mind about things.”
“He’s only twelve.”
“You aren’t preparing him to live in the real world,” she protested.
“This,” he said, “is the real world for him. Not some fancy apartment in a city where women like you lounge around in bars picking up men.”
“Now you wait just a minute,” she said. “I don’t lounge around in bars to pick up men.” She shifted her stance. “I hang out in zoos and flash elderly men in my trench coat.”
He threw up his hands. “I give up.”
“Good! Your room or mine?”
He whirled, his dark eyes flashing. Her smile was purely provocative and she was deliberately baiting him, he could sense it. His jaw tautened and he wanted to pick her up and shake her for the effect her teasing was having on him.
“Okay, I quit,” Amanda said, because she could see that he’d reached the limits of his control and she wasn’t quite brave enough to test the other side of it. “Good night. Sweet dreams.”
He didn’t answer her. He followed her up the stairs and watched her go into her room and close the door. After a minute, he went into his own room and locked the door. He laughed mirthlessly at his own rash action, but he hoped she could hear the bolt being thrown.
She could. It shocked her, until she realized that he’d done it deliberately, probably trying to hurt her. She laid back on her bed with a long sigh. She didn’t know what to do about Mr. Sutton. He was beginning to get to her in a very real way. She had to keep her perspective. This was only temporary. It would help to keep it in mind.
Quinn was thinking the same thing. But when he turned out the light and closed his eyes, he kept feeling Amanda’s loosened hair brushing down his chest, over his flat stomach, his loins. He shuddered and woke up sweating in the middle of the night. It was the worst and longest night of his life.
The next morning, Quinn glared at Amanda across the breakfast table after Elliot had left for school.
“Leave my shirts alone,” he said curtly. “If you find any more tears, Harry can mend them.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “I don’t have germs,” she pointed out. “I couldn’t contaminate them just by stitching them up.”
“Leave them alone,” he said harshly.
“Okay. Suit yourself.” She sighed. “I’ll just busy myself making lacy pillows for your bed.”
He said something expressive and obscene; her lips fell open and she gaped at him. She’d never heard him use language like that.
It seemed to bother him that he had. He put down his fork, left his eggs and went out the door as if leopards were stalking him.
Amanda stirred her eggs around on the plate, feeling vaguely guilty that she’d given him such a hard time that he’d gone without half his breakfast. She didn’t know why she needled him. It seemed to be a new habit, maybe to keep him at bay, to keep him from noticing how attracted she was to him.
“I’m going out to feed the calves, Harry,” she said after a minute.
“Dress warm. It’s snowing again,” he called from upstairs.
“Okay.”
She put on her coat and hat and wandered out to the barn through the path Quinn had made in the deep snow. She’d never again grumble at little two- and three-foot drifts in the city, she promised herself. Now that she knew what real snow was, she felt guilty for all her past complaints.
The barn was warmer than the great outdoors. She pushed snowflakes out of her eyes and face and went to fix the bottles as Harry had shown her, but Quinn was already there and had it done.
“No need to follow me around trying to get my attention,” Amanda murmured with a wicked smile. “I’ve already noticed how sexy and handsome you are.”
He drew in a furious breath, but just as he was about to speak she moved closer and put her fingers against his cold mouth.
“You’ll break my heart if you use ungentlemanly language, Mr. Sutton,” she told him firmly. “I’ll just feed the calves and admire you from afar, if you don’t mind. It seems safer than trying to throw myself at you.”
He looked torn between shaking her and kissing her. She stood very still where he towered above her, even bigger than usual in that thick shepherd’s coat and his tall, gray Stetson. He looked down at her quietly, his narrowed eyes lingering on her flushed cheeks and her soft, parted mouth.
Her hands were resting against the coat, and his were on her arms, pulling. She could hardly breathe as she realized that he’d actually touched her voluntarily. He jerked her face up under his, and she could see anger and something like bitterness in the dark eyes that held hers until she blushed.
“Just what are you after, city girl?” he asked coldly.
“A smile, a kind word and, dare I say it, a round of hearty laughter?” she essayed with wide eyes, trying not to let him see how powerfully he affected her.
His dark eyes fell to her mouth. “Is that right? And nothing more?”
Her breath came jerkily through her lips. “I…have to feed the calves.”
His eyes narrowed. “Yes, you do.” His fingers on her arms contracted, so that she could feel them even through the sleeves of her coat. “Be careful what you offer me,” he said in a voice as light and cold as the snow outside the barn. “I’ve been without a woman for one hell of a long time, and I’m alone up here. If you’re not what you’re making yourself out to be, you could be letting yourself in for some trouble.”
She stared up at him only half comprehending what he was saying. As his meaning began to filter into her consciousness, her cheeks heated and her breath caught in her throat.
“You…make it sound like a threat,” she breathed.
“It is a threat, Amanda,” he replied, using her name for the first time. “You could start something you might not want to finish with me, even with Elliot and Harry around.”
She bit her lower lip nervously. She hadn’t considered that. He looked more mature and formidable than he ever had before, and she could feel the banked-down fires in him kindling even as he held her.
“Okay,” she said after a minute.
He let her go and moved away from her to get the bottles. He handed them to her with a long, speculative look.
“It’s all right,” she muttered, embarrassed. “I won’t attack you while your back is turned. I almost never rape men.”
He lifted an eyebrow, but he didn’t smile. “You crazed female sex maniac,” he murmured.
“Goody Two Shoes,” she sh
ot back.
A corner of his mouth actually turned up. “You’ve got that one right,” he agreed. “Stay close to the house while it’s snowing like this. We wouldn’t want to lose you.”
“I’ll just bet we wouldn’t,” she muttered and stuck her tongue out at his retreating back.
She knelt down to feed the calves, still shaken by her confrontation with Quinn. He was an enigma. She was almost certain that he’d been joking with her at the end of the exchange, but it was hard to tell from his poker face. He didn’t look like a man who’d laughed often or enough.
The littlest calf wasn’t responding as well as he had earlier. She cuddled him and coaxed him to drink, but he did it without any spirit. She laid him back down with a sigh. He didn’t look good at all. She worried about him for the rest of the evening, and she didn’t argue when the television was cut off at nine o’clock. She went straight to bed, with Quinn and Elliot giving her odd looks.
Chapter Four
Amanda was subdued at the breakfast table, more so when Quinn started watching her with dark, accusing eyes. She knew she’d deliberately needled him for the past two days, and now she was sorry. He’d hinted that her behavior was about to start something, and she was anxious not to make things any worse than they already were.
The problem was that she was attracted to him. The more she saw of him, the more she liked him. He was different from the superficial, materialistic men in her own world. He was hardheaded and stubborn. He had values, and he spoke out for them. He lived by a rigid code of ethics, and honor was a word that had great meaning for him. Under all that, he was sensitive and caring. Amanda couldn’t help the way she was beginning to feel about him. She only wished that she hadn’t started off on the wrong foot with him.
She set out to win him over, acting more like her real self. She was polite and courteous and caring, but without the rough edges she’d had in the beginning. She still did the mending, despite his grumbling, and she made cushions for the sofa out of some cloth Harry had put away. But all her domestic actions only made things worse. Quinn glared at her openly now, and his lack of politeness raised even Harry’s eyebrows.
Amanda had a sneaking hunch that it was attraction to her that was making him so ill humored. He didn’t act at all like an experienced man, despite his marriage, and the way he looked at her was intense. If she could bring him out into the open, she thought, it might ease the tension a little.
She did her chores, including feeding the calves, worrying even more about the littlest one because he wasn’t responding as well today as he had the day before. When Elliot came home, she refused to help him with the keyboard until he did his homework. With a rueful smile and a knowing glance at his dad, he went up to his room to get it over with.
Meanwhile, Harry went out to get more firewood and Amanda was left in the living room with Quinn watching an early newscast.
The news was, as usual, all bad. Quinn put out his cigarette half angrily, his dark eyes lingering on Amanda’s soft face.
“Don’t you miss the city?” he asked.
She smiled. “Sure. I miss the excitement and my friends. But it’s nice here, too.” She moved toward the big armchair he was sitting in, nervously contemplating her next move. “You don’t mind all that much, do you? Having me around, I mean?”
He glared up at her. He was wearing a blue-checked flannel shirt, buttoned up to the throat, and the hard muscles of his chest strained against it. He looked twice as big as usual, his dark hair unruly on his broad forehead as he stared up into her eyes.
“I’m getting used to you, I guess,” he said stiffly. “Just don’t get too comfortable.”
“You really don’t want me here, do you?” she asked quietly.
He sighed angrily. “I don’t like women,” he muttered.
“I know.” She sat down on the arm of his chair, facing him. “Why not?” she asked gently.
His body went taut at the proximity. She was too close. Too female. The scent of her got into his nostrils and made him shift restlessly in the chair. “It’s none of your damned business why not,” he said evasively. “Will you get up from there?”
She warmed at the tone of his voice. So she did disturb him! Amanda smiled gently as she leaned forward. “Are you sure you want me to?” she asked and suddenly threw caution to the wind and slid down into his lap, putting her soft mouth hungrily on his.
He stiffened. He jerked. His big hands bit into her arms so hard they bruised. But for just one long, sweet moment, his hard mouth gave in to hers and he gave her back the kiss, his lips rough and warm, the pressure bruising, and he groaned as if all his dreams had come true at once.
He tasted of smoke for the brief second that he allowed the kiss. Then he was all bristling indignation and cold fury. He slammed to his feet, taking her with him, and literally threw her away, so hard that she fell against and onto the sofa.
“Damn you,” he ground out. His fists clenched at his sides. His big body vibrated with outrage. “You cheap little tart!”
She lay trembling, frightened of the violence in his now white face and blazing dark eyes. “I’m not,” she defended feebly.
“Can’t you live without it for a few days, or are you desperate enough to try to seduce me?” he hissed. His eyes slid over her with icy contempt. “It won’t work. I’ve told you already, I don’t want something that any man can have! I don’t want any part of you, least of all your overused body!”
She got to her feet on legs that threatened to give way under her, backing away from his anger. She couldn’t even speak. Her father had been like that when he drank too much, white-faced, icy hot, totally out of control. And when he got that way, he hit. She cringed away from Quinn as he moved toward her and suddenly, she whirled and ran out of the room.
He checked his instinctive move to go after her. So she was scared, was she? He frowned, trying to understand why. He’d only spoken the truth; did she not like hearing what she was? The possibility that he’d been wrong, that she wasn’t a cheap little tart, he wouldn’t admit even to himself.
He sat back down and concentrated on the television without any real interest. When Elliot came downstairs, Quinn barely looked up.
“Where’s Amanda going?” he asked his father.
Quinn raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“Where’s Amanda going in such a rush?” Elliot asked again. “I saw her out the window, tramping through waist-deep snow. Doesn’t she remember what you told her about old McNaber’s traps? She’s headed straight for them if she keeps on the way she’s headed…Where are you going?”
Quinn was already on his feet and headed for the back door. He got into his shepherd’s coat and hat without speaking, his face pale, his eyes blazing with mingled fear and anger.
“She was crying,” Harry muttered, sparing him a glance. “I don’t know what you said to her, but—”
“Shut up,” Quinn said coldly. He stared the older man down and went out the back door and around the house, following in the wake Amanda’s body had made. She was already out of sight, and those traps would be buried under several feet of snow. Bear traps, and she wouldn’t see them until she felt them. The thought of that merciless metal biting her soft flesh didn’t bear thinking about, and it would be his fault because he’d hurt her.
Several meters ahead, into the woods now, Amanda was cursing silently as she plowed through the snowdrifts, her black eyes fierce even through the tears. Damn Quinn Sutton, she panted. She hoped he got eaten by moths during the winter, she hoped his horse stood on his foot, she hoped the sled ran over him and packed him into the snow and nobody found him until spring. It was only a kiss, after all, and he’d kissed her back just for a few seconds.
She felt the tears burning coldly down her cheeks as they started again. Damn him. He hadn’t had to make her feel like such an animal, just because she’d kissed him. She cared about him. She’d only wanted to get on a friendlier footing with him. But now she’d done
it. He hated her for sure, she’d seen it in his eyes, in his face, when he’d called her those names. Cheap little tart, indeed! Well, Goody Two Shoes Sutton could just hold his breath until she kissed him again, so there!
She stopped to catch her breath and then plowed on. The cabin was somewhere down here. She’d stay in it even if she did freeze to death. She’d shack up with a grizzly bear before she’d spend one more night under Quinn Sutton’s roof. She frowned. Were there grizzly bears in this part of the country?
“Amanda, stop!”
She paused, wondering if she’d heard someone call her name, or if it had just been the wind. She was in a break of lodgepole pines now, and a cabin was just below in the valley. But it wasn’t Mr. Durning’s cabin. Could that be McNaber’s…?
“Amanda!”
That was definitely her name. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the familiar shepherd’s coat and dark worn Stetson atop that arrogant head.
“Eat snow, Goody Two Shoes!” she yelled back. “I’m going home!”
She started ahead, pushing hard now. But he had the edge, because he was walking in the path she’d made. He was bigger and faster, and he had twice her stamina. Before she got five more feet, he had her by the waist.
She fought him, kicking and hitting, but he simply wrapped both arms around her and held on until she finally ran out of strength.
“I hate you,” she panted, shivering as the cold and the exertion got to her. “I hate you!”
“You’d hate me more if I hadn’t stopped you,” he said, breathing hard. “McNaber lives down there. He’s got bear traps all over the place. Just a few more steps, and you’d have been up to your knees in them, you little fool! You can’t even see them in snow this deep!”
“What would you care?” she groaned. “You don’t want me around. I don’t want to stay with you anymore. I’ll take my chances at the cabin!”
“No, you won’t, Amanda,” he said. His embrace didn’t even loosen. He whipped her around, his big hands rough on her sleeves as he shook her. “You’re coming back with me, if I have to carry you!”
She flinched, the violence in him frightening her. She swallowed, her lower lip trembling and pulled feebly against his hands.