by Janet Dailey
"I'm…sorry," she stammered. She had been concentrating so much on him that she didn't remember any words being spoken. "I didn't hear what you were saying."
His smile mocked her openly while his eyes twinkled over her flushed cheeks. "Your mother was just talking about the old-fashioned barn dance the Gordons are having Friday night. She said she wasn't going because John wasn't here. I suggested that she should go, that we could all go as a family."
"I really don't think I'd better." Lucille Gilmore looked up from the pile of socks in her lap. "You three can go by all means, but I wouldn't feel right going without John."
"Mother, you know you'd enjoy it." Casey shook her gaze free from Flint's hypnotic face. "Besides, how many of those dances have you been to where dad sat out every dance? He hates them, but he's never begrudged your going."
"The people who will be there are your friends and neighbors," Flint inserted. "No one will think unkindly of you accompanying your children, even if John is in the hospital."
"I'm sure they won't," Casey's mother agreed hesitantly. "But…"
"No 'buts.' It's settled. We're all going," Flint said firmly. "We won't take 'no' for an answer, will we, Casey?"
She couldn't stop the tingle of pleasure at the coupling of her desires with his. Nor could she stop the glow from lighting her eyes as she agreed with him.
"You haven't made any arrangements to go to the dance with Smitty, have you, Casey? Because if you have…" Her mother spoke.
An uncomfortable twinge of conscience poked her as Casey tried to recall truthfully whether Smitty had mentioned it. "I'm sure he hasn't." The convincing tone was more for herself than for her mother. She accompanied the statement with a shy shrug of her shoulders. "He's become…too sure of himself lately, anyway."
Lucy Gilmore smiled at her, pleased at the suddenly feminine tactics her daughter seemed to be using. "All right, I'll go."
"Speak of the devil," Mark piped up, "here comes Smitty now."
Casey twisted from her chair, aware of the thoughtful gray eyes watching her.
"I'll go to the door," she offered unnecessarily, since Smitty came and went in their house as if it were his own.
"Hi, gorgeous," Smitty greeted her on the porch steps.
"Hi, yourself." She wished her sudden attack of nervousness would pass and that her smile would appear less forced than it was.
"You look a little pale. Are you feeling okay?"
"I'm fine." But her supposedly assuring laugh was jerky and unnatural.
Smitty's eyes narrowed on her face, not liking at all what he was thinking.
"I stopped to make sure about Friday night." He didn't like the color that washed over her face either.
"You are going with me?"
"To the Gordons?" Casey stalled. "We were just talking about it." She tried to smile into his questioning brown eyes. "Actually Flint and I just talked mom into going along. She didn't want to because of dad being in the hospital."
"Flint and you?" His gaze was diamond sharp.
"Does that mean you're going with him?"
"We're going as a family, Mark, mother, myself, and…and Flint." Why did she feel so guilty? It wasn't as if she had promised Smitty she'd go with him.
"Good old Flint's a part of the family now, is he?" There was no mistaking the sarcasm Smitty was directing at her now. "What am I? An old shoe you've thrown away?"
"You know you're welcome to come with us." Hurt dignity lifted her chin.
"No, thanks. Two's company; three's a crowd and all that rot!"
"Donald Smith! You have no right to talk to me like that!" Casey flared. "You don't own me! And just because I don't go to some party with you there's no reason for you to get so sarcastic."
"I don't mind you turning me down for your family, Casey. I just object to you turning me down for Flint McCallister. Johnny warned me about him, but I didn't think…Oh, what's the use?"
"It isn't because of him at all." Her voice was low and trembling.
"Isn't it? It's written all over your face." Smitty stepped closer to her, his hands moving toward her only to fall at his side in despair. "When I think of how patient I've been with you! Casey, he isn't interested in you. He's been all over the world. What could he possibly see in a country girl like you?"
She wanted to put her hands over her ears and block out his hurting words. Everything Smitty was saying was true, things she had already told herself. The worst to bear was the fact that she had let Flint know that she was susceptible to his charms. What frightened her was how close was she from falling over the brink and tumbling into a love that would only bring her heartache.
| Go to Table of Contents |
Chapter Nine
CASEY WAS GLAD she was sitting in the back seat of the car and her mother was in front with Flint. Her tingling senses were all too aware of the confined space. The magnetic force that emanated from Flint was just as powerful as it had been all week, drawing her to him even when she wanted to stay away. Only the sensible side of her wanted to stay away while the wild, reckless side urged her ever closer. She felt like the child playing with matches who became fascinated by the flame. Her fear wasn't in getting burnt, but in being consumed by the fire.
Thinking about the evening ahead, Casey could not suppress a tide of exhilaration from sweeping over her. She knew at some point during the night that Flint would ask her to dance. She remembered the sensual warmth of his hands on her waist and the feel of his muscular body pressed against hers. No matter how hard she tried to deny that she shouldn't put herself in another vulnerable position, Casey knew she was going to accept him and thrill to every wonderful, rapturous moment of it.
The many petticoats under her red gold skirt rustled as she shifted position. Flint glanced over his shoulder at her. Under his smoky gaze, the last vestige of resistance melted away and Casey smiled at him.
"We're almost there," he said, as if needing to explain why he had turned to her.
Japanese lanterns were strung from pole to pole in the Gordons' back garden. Enormous sheets of plywood were stretched over the lawn to provide a dance floor. A hay wagon bordered one side serving as a platform for a local group of musicians. The combination of guitars, fiddles, accordion and drums filled the night air with a bouncing lively tune as Casey and Mark followed Flint and her mother from their car to the party area. Jim Kingston was at the microphone, his foot stomping to the beat of the drums while he called out to the dancers on the floor.
"Honor your partner, honor your corners. Now, an allemande left with the old left hand. On to the next with a right and left grand!"
On the outside of the dance floor, hands clapped automatically to the tune while bright, multicolored skirts whirled around the two squares. Flubbed directions were laughed off and dancers were pushed in the proper direction by more experienced dancers. Casey felt her toe tapping unconsciously. Her gaze strayed to Flint, who immediately smiled back.
"You like to dance." It was more a statement than a question.
"My one feminine characteristic." The gay atmosphere made her more bold than she had been and her brown eyes glittered up at him with laughter.
Her mother had been ensnared by Mrs. Gordon, and Mark had spotted Kevin and Kyle Grassick on the far side of the floor. Casey was left standing beside Flint, a situation she found very attractive, if a little dangerous.
"Was Smitty very upset that you didn't come to the party with him?" Flint's question was unexpected.
"Yes," she answered simply. She liked the way his eyes moved over her face, their smoky depths fanning the kindled fire inside her. "He blames you."
His gaze held her prisoner, frightening her a little by its intensity and exciting her at the same time. For a moment Casey felt dwarfed not just by his superior height but also by his nearly unlimited power over her to arouse a desire she hadn't even known she possessed.
"And he warned you about me." Flint spoke quietly, all the while studying her intentl
y. "He told you I was more worldly and more experienced than you. That I could hurt you."
She nodded.
"It's true, Casey."
She blinked her eyes to hide the pain that stabbed her chest, before smiling broadly.
"So what! Surely in this modern age a woman's entitled to a dangerous interlude or two. After all, a man sows his wild oats before he finally settles down."
His throaty laughter was low and spellbinding.
"You're a trusting witch." The hand that touched her back sent a warm tongue of fire up her spine as Flint swept her on to the dance floor.
She didn't feel like a witch. She felt like the Sleeping Beauty awakened by a prince with dark auburn hair. Not even the glowering look from Smitty on the sidelines of the dance floor could prick the bubbling happiness that radiated from her face. Other men held her as her feet danced to the commands of the caller, but they were ghosts, shadowy beings that held none of Casey's attention.
The square ended amidst laughter and happy voices. Flint's hand retained its hold on Casey's, his smiling eyes glanced at her flushed cheeks. Other people, but mostly men, recognized him and walked over to make themselves known. Flint accepted their deferential attitudes while Casey marveled silently at his nearly regal bearing that still managed to convey midwestern friendliness. A gigantic swelling of pride filled her chest as ranchers' daughters glanced down at her hand held so securely by Flint, their eyes glinting enviously at her.
Brenda Fairlie, whom Casey hadn't seen since their high school days, was not the type to step back willingly from so small a claim to such a handsome man. She was tall and willowy fair. She walked toward Casey and Flint with a glowering Smitty in tow. Brenda had always seemed to be filled with her own self-importance even in schooldays—a sophisticated attitude that had kept Casey from attempting to make friends with her. Now, after almost three years at university, she almost reeked of class and culture.
"Casey, I've been going to stop and see you for just ages." Casey was forced to submit to a pathetically affectionate hug. "But you know how it is when you're home for only a few short weeks. You just can't see everyone. I was so glad when I heard the Gordons were having this party. It gives me a perfect opportunity to see everyone." Brenda fluttered her baby blue eyes at Flint. "You must be the new boss man from Ogallala. Smitty has been telling me about you, Mr. McCallister."
There was the barest flicker of concern in Casey's eyes as she watched Flint's amused glance sweep over Brenda's slender but shapely figure.
"My name's Brenda Fairlie." She introduced herself swiftly before Casey had an opportunity to do so. "Casey and I went to school together. Of course, my parents sent me on to university, so we haven't been very close since then."
She still manages to monopolize a conversation and get her little gibes in, Casey thought cattily, hating the way Brenda was playing up so obviously to Flint.
Flint smiled. A mysterious humor lit his eyes. His hand tightened its hold on Casey's. "If you'll excuse us, I promised Casey the first polka."
Deftly and before a word of objection could be raised, he had Casey in his arms and on the dance floor. The look in his eyes plainly said, "This is our night." That was all it took for Casey to be lifted to a plateau that she had thought incapable of reaching. The mere thought that he had chosen her instead of someone as sophisticated and beautiful as Brenda, who seemed much more his type, made her head swim. Her feet didn't seem to touch the floor, time was suspended and the top of the world was below her feet. Casey wasn't even conscious of the music because the happy bubbling tune seemed to be coming from inside. The firm pressure of his arm around her waist had a burning warmth that brought a healthy glow of color to her cheeks. And his eyes held a promise that sent shivers of joy all through her. He whirled her through an intricate series of steps that she had never done before. But their harmony was complete and Casey never missed a move.
When the last note from the accordion faded away, they were on the far side of the floor, separated from the other guests. Casey was breathless, but from exhilaration and not exertion. The hand that had remained around her waist after the music stopped pushed her gently toward the darkness. Wanting to savor this moment of enchantment, she willingly succumbed to its pressure. Yet she couldn't meet his gaze for fear he would see how much more this moment meant to her than to him. A fence loomed before them and Casey raced to it gaily.
"Do you always sweep a girl off her feet like that?" The slight laughter that accompanied her question revealed a bit of her nervousness as she leaned against the whitewashed fence, her hands gripping the boards tightly. She felt as if she was floating and only by holding on tightly could she keep her feet on the ground.
"It's the best way to keep them from stepping on my feet," Flint smiled. His eyes captured hers for an instant before he removed a cigarette from his pocket. He offered one to Casey, but she declined, choosing instead to gaze at the heavens with its blue blanket filled with twinkling stars.
"I imagine you have a lot of them—girl friends, I mean." She glanced at him over her shoulder and silently wished his face wasn't in the shadows so she could see what he was thinking.
"Oh, they stand in line," he teased, leaning against the fence post so he could study her face.
"I'm sure mothers are always parading their daughters before you," Casey retorted, following his lead with the same amount of mockery in her voice. "You must be the most eligible bachelor in the territory, fair game for matchmakers everywhere."
"Are you contemplating throwing your hat in the ring with the others?" The tip of his cigarette glowed brightly as he inhaled.
"Me? I wouldn't be so presumptuous." It was difficult to laugh when he was looking at her through the gauzy veil of cigarette smoke. "I'm just a simple country girl, no competition compared to your other girls."
"You'd make a pretty good competitor."
Casey felt an absurd sensation of drowning as she gazed into the gray whirlpool of his eyes and listened to the seductive quality of his voice.
"Your eyes are dark and try very hard to hide a passionate nature. Your hair is soft and curling, free of sticky hairsprays so a man can touch it." As if to prove his point, a large hand reached out and ran its fingers through the curls before cupping the back of her head. She held her breath, her eyes closing briefly at the exquisite pleasure the intimate caress gave. "And your lips curve, soft and inviting, and are so very, very kissable." Her heart fluttered wildly. "And what's more—"
Flint didn't finish the sentence. He drew her slowly into his arms instead. She melted willingly against him, her back arching as his hold tightened around her waist. He kissed her with a thoroughness that left her weak and trembling.
"I frighten you, don't I?" Flint drawled.
Casey was frightened, frightened of the response he was capable of arousing because she couldn't control it. It was useless arguing the point when she knew her face mirrored her feelings all too clearly to him.
"I've never had an affair before." Her voice was husky.
"What a pity," Flint sighed. His eyes roamed intimately over her face, not bothering to mask the satisfaction on his own when he saw the radiant glow on her face.
"What is?" she asked breathlessly.
"You're twenty-one. In this modern age of liberated love, an affair would be the perfect answer." He rubbed her cheek with the back of his hand. Casey felt like nuzzling against it like a purring kitten. "But you're not the type, Casey, and you know it even though you say the words. You're the old, fashioned one-man kind, and that's rare these days."
She stood very still in his arms. His tender rejection stabbed at her heart.
"Do you always think you know women so well?" Casey lashed out in hurt anger.
A finger lifted her stiff chin with gentleness. His head was cocked slightly to one side as he studied the blackness of her eyes.
"I've been wrong before. But I'd be very disappointed if I were wrong about you." He moved away from her,
holding out his hand for hers as he did so.
"We'll be missed at the party. I wouldn't want to incur any more of Smitty's wrath than I already have."
"Oh, we can't have that," Casey retorted sarcastically, refusing to take his hand.
"Prickle poppy," Flint whispered in her ear as he followed, closely behind her when she move hurriedly toward the lighted area.
In spite of herself, she did grin slightly, mollified by his teasing voice but sorely disappointed that he was ending their little game of love even though she tried to convince herself it was for the best. The yearning emptiness was still inside her, aching to be filled. A little voice inside asked why she couldn't have spent a few more minutes in his arms.
"Ah, Smitty," Flint's voice echoed clearly through the music. "We were just talking about you."
"I can just bet you were." Smitty glared angrily at Casey. "I've been looking for you."
"Have you?" she retorted defiantly. "What happened to darling Brenda? I'm surprised you were able to tear yourself away from her."
"Excuse me, Casey." And Flint slipped away. She couldn't help staring after him.
"Oh, boy, is he setting you up for the kill!" Smitty exclaimed as he looked at the forlorn expression on her face.
"Would you like to dance with me? Because if you don't, you can just leave!" What a relief it was to turn her frustrated anger on someone other than herself.
| Go to Table of Contents |
Chapter Ten
THAT EVENING HAUNTED CASEY for days. Except for that one incident with Smitty, Flint had been exceptionally attentive the rest of the evening but only in a crowd. Never again did he try to be with her alone and never in the days that followed, Casey felt he was trying to shut her out of his life.
If only she were sophisticated and capable of carrying off an affair with aplomb, she thought. Then she laughed bitterly that such an idea would even cross her mind. Flint had been very correct when he said she wasn't the type. That didn't compensate for the fact that an affair would be the only romance that Flint would offer. His worldliness and wealth excluded her from entering any race where the stakes were marriage.