Western Man

by Janet Dailey

  “So—while the situation has changed, I think other things haven’t. Namely—that still I think you’re a tempting morsel and I still want to do more than kiss you—and you want me to do more than that, too.” His head dipped to graze his mouth along the curve of her neck.

  Just for a second, Sharon let her lashes drift shut at the sheer sensuality of his caressing touch. Shuddering, she recognized that what Ridge had said was true. Knowing it also drove her out of his arms and spun her around to face him in a trembling fury.

  “I think I hate all you maverick cowboys.” Her voice was low and taut, riddled with bitter hurt. “Give you a good roping horse, some cattle, and a good time on Saturday night and that’s all you need! Well, the rest of us want more than that! Some day I want a ring, a marriage license, and some children—in that order! You don’t need those things—and what’s worse, you don’t want them!”

  The beginnings of a glowering frown appeared on his face, narrowing his eyes to blue slits of color. Her hands were doubled into rigid fists as Sharon glared at him, fighting back the tears stinging her eyes.

  “You turn me on, Ridge. I won’t deny that,” she declared. “But you were right when you said I could take care of myself. So from now on, you can just leave me alone!”

  Hot tears were on the verge of spilling from her lashes. With long, angry strides, Sharon swept out of the kitchen. She had meant everything she’d said, and she didn’t want to weaken her statement by breaking into tears. She didn’t stop until she had reached her bedroom and shut the door, leaning weakly against it while silent sobs shuddered through her body.

  It wasn’t long until she heard the sound of Ridge moving along the wall outside her room. She stepped away from the door and impatiently wiped at the tears on her cheeks, breathing deeply to stop them. He knocked at her door.

  “Sharon?” When she didn’t answer, he knocked again, louder. “Sharon.” He became more demanding. “Sharon, answer me!” She pressed her lips more tightly together. “Dammit, Sharon,” he swore a warning.

  “What?” The response was whipped out of her, but it angered her that he could prod her into speaking when she had vowed not to say a word.

  There was a long silence before he spoke again, his tone considerably subdued and terse. “Don’t bother with the dishes. I’ll do them tonight.”

  She looked at the ceiling, wanting to laugh, but it hurt too much. He didn’t even need her to wash the dishes! After a few seconds, she heard him moving away from her door.

  Chapter Nine

  The next morning they didn’t have much to say to each other, although his lidded blue gaze strayed to her often. Sharon was in the kitchen washing up the lunch dishes when she heard the heavy tread of cowboy boots.

  When she turned, Ridge appeared in the doorway, dressed in snug-fitting jeans and a chambray shirt with a brown, work-stained cowboy hat shading his face. His rugged vitality and masculine roughness seemed to grip her by the throat.

  “I’m going with Hobbs this afternoon and look over the ranch,” he announced. “We’re taking the truck.”

  It was on her tongue to ask if he felt up to it, but she doubted Ridge would admit that he wasn’t. The same ridiculous male pride that had insisted on discharging himself from the hospital was now driving him to climb back into the seat of authority—even if it killed him.

  “All right.” Sharon swung back to the sink, tight-lipped in her disapproval.

  She listened to his footsteps as he moved gingerly to the back door, knowing that as soon as he was with his foreman, Ridge would be gritting his teeth and walking as if he didn’t hurt at all. Men, she thought with angry exasperation as she heard the door shut.

  The dishes were done and she was putting the roast in the oven to slow-cook it to a tender doneness when the telephone rang. Sharon crossed the room to pick up the wall phone.

  “Hello, Sharon?”

  “Andy!” She recognized his voice with surprise. “I didn’t expect you to call.”

  “You said to call on Saturday. Did you forget we have a date tonight?” Behind the joking tone there was a suggestion of hurt.

  “No, I didn’t forget.” It had just slipped her mind. “I guess I didn’t realize it was Saturday already.”

  “You’re still staying at Latigo, I take it,” he said, stating the obvious. “Isn’t Halliday up and around

  yet?”

  “He’s up, but I think there’s a difference of opinion about how well he’s getting around,” she murmured dryly.

  “Is our date still on for tonight?”

  Sharon hesitated only for a second. “Of course.” After last night, the timing of this date couldn’t have been better if she had planned it. Besides, Andy had always been able to boost her spirits, and they certainly needed boosting now.

  “I’ll pick you up between five-thirty and six.”

  Since her mother had sent over only every-day-type clothes, Sharon put on the peach-colored dress she’d worn the day she’d brought Ridge home from the hospital. Her light caramel hair was freshly shampooed and curled loosely on her shoulders. It was ego building to see her reflection in the oven door’s glass window, even though she had a towel tied over the front of the full skirt to protect it.

  The roast and its accompanying vegetables were done; there was a salad in the refrigerator, and some peas were in a pan on the stove burner ready to be warmed. The evening meal was virtually ready, except for the last-minute dishing up.

  She turned around and skimmed the table with a glance, then realized there wasn’t any bread out. Scott could eat half a loaf at one sitting. As she walked to the cupboard bread drawer to correct that oversight, she heard the back door open. A wave of tension tightened her nerves. When she turned back to the table with the loaf of bread in her hands, she was mentally prepared to meet Ridge.

  Stiff legged and holding himself carefully, he entered the kitchen and more or less fell into a chair. He swept off his hat and dropped it on the table, then slumped against the chair back. There was an ashen quality about his face and the dullness of pain in his eyes. He was breathing in a slow, halting rhythm.

  Without a word, Sharon left the bread on the table and went back to the cupboards, fetching him a glass of water and a pain pill. She set them in front of him. “Here you go, tough guy,” she said unsympathetically. Ridge glanced at the pill and threw her a look, then tossed the pill into his mouth and washed it down with the water. “I probably wasted my time cooking this supper for you.” Sharon declared, irritated with him for aggravating his condition. “Your stomach is liable to revolt at the first bite of roast beef.”

  “I’d forgotten I was going to get something to eat tonight for a change.” The sharp edge in his voice was attributable to the pain he was obviously feeling. “How come Scott isn’t coming to dinner?”

  “As far as I know, he is.” Sharon gave him a blank look.

  “Then how come the table is only set for two people?” Ridge gestured to the two place settings, then his gaze swept over her, taking in the full-skirted dress. “And how come you’re wearing that?”

  “I’m going out tonight. I have a date with Andy Rivers,” she announced into a room that suddenly seemed deadly quiet. “He should be here any time to pick me up.”

  “And what happens to me while you’re out with your oil man?” It was a half-snarling demand. “You’re supposed to be here to take care of me. That was the deal.”

  “I’m sure you’ll manage to survive,” Sharon murmured dryly. “Or you can ask Scott to stay and hold your hand if you’re afraid of being alone for a few hours.” Ridge lapsed into a thick silence that prickled her nerve ends. “Everything is ready for dinner. All you and Scott have to do is warm the peas and slice the meat.”

  There was no response. From outside came the slam of car doors. Sharon looked out the window to see her brother and Andy coming up the walk together after arriving separately. After a short glance at Ridge, she untied her apron and went to th
e door to greet them. He remained seated in the kitchen chair, all his attention centered on the cigarette he’d just lit.

  The tension became electric after Sharon invited Andy into the house to wait while she got her jacket and purse. Ridge didn’t say five words to him. She was seething at his rudeness when she walked out the back door with Andy.

  “I’m sorry Ridge wasn’t very polite to you, Andy.” She felt she had to apologize for him. “He isn’t in the best of moods right now.”

  “I’m used to it,” he shrugged to show it hadn’t bothered him. “There’s a lot of ranchers that see red when they meet some guy who’s interested in the oil shale that might be under their rangeland.”

  It seemed wisest to let Andy think along those lines. There was no reason to enlighten him about the circumstances that had preceded his arrival at the ranch. Tonight she had every intention of putting Ridge out of her mind.

  Andy was fun, undemanding company. Even if she wasn’t able to forget Ridge, Sharon did find herself relaxing and enjoying the outing. They made a long evening of it, driving all the way to Glenwood Springs to take in a show and eat afterwards.

  It was well after midnight when he drove to the end of the long lane into the headquarters of Latigo Ranch and stopped in front of the house. All the ranch buildings were dark, but lights burned in the house windows.

  “It looks like somebody’s waiting up for you,” Andy observed as he switched off the engine.

  “Ridge probably just left the lights on for me,” Sharon reasoned, certain that after the strain of the afternoon, Ridge wouldn’t have the stamina to stay up this late.

  Andy climbed out of the car and came around to open her door. His hands rested companionably on her shoulders as they walked to the house, both fairly well talked out after the long drive.

  “I enjoyed myself tonight,” Andy said, then slid her a boyish grin. “I guess I always say that when I take you home, but it’s true just the same. I guess it’s because I feel I never have to prove anything to you—or come on like some heavyweight lover, which I’m not. I can just be myself.”

  “Me too.” Sharon agreed with all he said, from her point of view as well.

  “Some guy’s gonna marry you one of these times and I’m gonna come back here and find out I’ve lost a friend,” he declared with a mock shake of his head, stopping as they reached the door.

  “We’ll always be friends, Andy,” she insisted.

  “Not if you marry one of these ‘cattle-or-die’ ranchers.” With a nod of his head, he indicated the occupant of the house where they were standing.

  It wasn’t necessary to reply as Andy bent his head to kiss her goodnight. The outside light suddenly flashed on, its brightness blinding both of them and startling them into moving apart. The door opened and Ridge loomed in its frame, glowering at the pair of them.

  “It’s you,” he muttered harshly and Sharon wondered who else he expected it to be. “I thought I heard a car door.”

  “You did.” Sharon said, resentment starting to build at the way he continued to stand there, holding the door open.

  “Are you coming in or not?” Ridge snapped impatiently.

  She was ready to defy him, but Andy took the opportunity away from her. “Good night, Sharon. I’ll give you a call when I’m going to be in the area again.” There was almost a smile on his face as he bent his head and discreetly kissed her cheek.

  “Good night, Andy,” she returned and tossed a glaring look at Ridge.

  Stubbornly, she waited outside a few minutes and watched Andy walk back to his car while Ridge impatiently cooled his heels at the door. Then, and only then, did she enter the house, her chin held at a coolly defiant angle.

  The door was barely shut when Ridge pounced on her with an angry demand, “Do you know what time it is?”

  “It must be after midnight,” Sharon replied nonchalantly and swept into the living room. “How come you’re still up? I thought you would have been in bed ages ago.”

  “I always stay up this late,” he taunted her with the he the way she had taunted him with her question. “I’ve been waiting up for you! What the hell do you think I’m doing up at this hour?!”

  “That’s what I thought.” She turned on him, no longer trying to contain her anger.

  “Just where the hell have you been?” Ridge demanded.

  “That’s none of your business!”

  “It is my business!” he snapped. “You’re staying in my house, so that makes me responsible for what happens to you.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” she declared scornfully. “Where I go and what I do are none of your affair.”

  “In case you don’t know it, your brother doesn’t think much of your oil man—and neither do I.” He towered in front of her, bristling with anger.

  “I don’t care what you or Scott thinks of him. All that matters is what I think about Andy.” She pointed at herself for emphasis. “I date whom I please—and stay out as late as I please. No one, not even my parents, tells me what to do—and you’re certainly not going to.”

  “I suppose you think your oil man is going to give you a ring and a marriage license and those kids you said you wanted last night,” Ridge jeered.

  “He could,” Sharon countered, angrily baiting him.

  “Well, you can just forget him because you’re not going out with him anymore,” he informed her coldly, a muscle jumping in his jaw.

  “Why? Because you say so?” she mocked him sarcastically, then hurled, “You don’t own me, Ridge Halliday!”

  “Do you wanna bet?” The taunting words were ground through his teeth as he roughly pulled her into his arms. She fought him wildly, pushing and struggling against the steel band that pinned her to his chest. By twisting her head, she managed to elude the mouth moving hotly over her face, but it was only temporary. “You’re going to lose,” Ridge said against her throat, his breath coming roughly. “And you know it.”

  Her own breath was coming in taut little sighing gasps as her pulse careened wildly out of control. It wasn’t his strength she was fighting. It was the sensation of his lean, muscular length, the smell of his skin, and the husky sound of his voice that she fought to resist.

  “I hate you,” she said through her teeth, because he knew what he did to her when he touched her and he was taking advantage of it.

  His mouth reached the corner of her lips. Of their own accord, they turned to seek his bruising kiss. Her fingers slowly uncurled from the balled fists she’d made of them and spread across his shoulders to dig fiercely into his shirt and the hard flesh under it. For long, hot moments, their lips mated in an angry union until it spawned passion.

  She strained against him, arching her spine to shape herself more closely to the hard angles and planes of his body. Blood rushed through her veins, fevering her skin already heated from the restless, pressing movements of his hands, alternately caressing and molding her body to his needs.

  When Ridge pulled his mouth from hers and came up for air, dragging in heavy, labored breaths, Sharon pressed her hot face against his chest. She could hear his heart pounding, loud and fast, competing with her own drumming pulse. His hand moved over the silkiness of her tawny hair to the side of her face and lifted it away from his chest. She tipped her head back to gaze up at him, seeing the smouldering satisfaction in his half-closed eyes. Ridge stroked his hand over her neck and throat, caressing its curving length. There was a faint tremor in his touch, betraying how disturbed he was.

  “I’ll never understand—” his husky voice was lower than a murmur and deep with desire “—how one person could have such incredibly soft lips and soft curves and still be so hardheaded and hard-nosed. Tell me now,” he insisted, “where were you and that oil guy all this time?”

  “We went to a show in Glenwood Springs, then ate afterwards,” she whispered, her body aching for the thrust of his hips.

  “He didn’t make love to you?” His fingers tightened ever so slightly on her ne
ck, briefly applying pressure.

  “No.” Sharon turned her head in a negative movement. “Andy’s a . . . friend.”

  “Why didn’t you explain that to start with?” Ridge demanded gruffly. “Why did you put me through all this hell, wondering where you were and what you were doing with him? It kept getting later and later and I . . .” The rest was lost in a smothered groan as he punished her lips for the torment he’d been through, kissing them roughly and thoroughly, then drawing away. His hand tugged the elastic neckline of her dress off one shoulder to allow him to nibble on the sensitive bone, sending shivers of delight over her skin that raised her flesh.

  “Were you jealous?” Sharon was dazed by the idea.

  “Of him?” The look of amused scorn on his face when Ridge glanced at her, laughed away that fragile wisp of hope.

  Crestfallen, Sharon lowered her gaze to the darkly tanned column of his throat. It had been a foolish thing to think, but just for a little while, she’d wondered. Then his warm lips were on her cheek, running over it in stimulating circles, and she closed her eyes to enjoy the heady bliss his touch created.

  “Sharon,” he murmured, tormenting her lips with the closeness of his mouth. “Let’s stop fooling around and make love.” His hands moved restlessly over her body, teasing her hips and breasts with his fleeting touch. “It’s what we both want.”

  Although his statement wasn’t a question, Sharon answered it like one. “Yes.”

  While her whole being seemed to clamor under the sweeping urgency of his kiss, some tiny fragment of her mind forced a recall of the words that had been said between them. It started an icy stream of thoughts that eventually chilled her ardor. As much as she loved Ridge and wanted him, she couldn’t tolerate being a one-night stand in his life—and nothing he’d said had indicated he was offering her more than that.

  She pushed with her hands to break free of him, inadvertently doing it against his cracked and broken ribs. His strangled cry of pain as he doubled over made Sharon realize what she’d done, but she felt little remorse. Considering how much he’d hurt her emotionally, he deserved to feel some pain of his own even if it was physical.