by Diana Palmer
“She was with you when I phoned your house, I guess, and she got the idea that I was chasing you,” she said, gratified by the sudden blinking of his eyelids. “You can tell her, for me,” she added with saccharine sweetness, “that I would not have you on a hot dog bun with uptown relish. If she thinks I'm the competition, all she has to do is look where I live.” Her face tautened. “Go ahead, Jordan, look around you. I'm not even in your league, whatever your high class girlfriend thinks. You're a kind neighbor whom I asked for advice and that's all you ever were. Period,” she lied, trying to save face.
He still wasn't moving or speaking. But his eyes were taking on a nasty glitter. Beside his lean hips, one of his hands was clenched until the knuckles went white. “Ever?” he prodded, his tone insinuating things.
She knew what he meant. She swallowed hard, trying not to remember the heat and power of the kisses they'd shared. Obviously, they'd meant nothing to him!
“Ever,” she repeated. “I certainly wasn't trying to tie you down, Jordan. I'm not at all sure that I want to spend the rest of my life in Jacobsville working for a lawyer, anyway,” she added deliberately, but without looking at him. “I've thought about that a lot, about what you said. Maybe I do have ambitions.”
He didn't speak for several seconds. His eyes became narrow and cold.
“If you'd like to show your Julie that I'm no competition, you can bring her down here and show her how we live,” she offered with a smile. “That would really open her eyes, wouldn't it?”
“Libby,” Curt warned. “Don't talk like that.”
“How should I talk?” she demanded, her throat tightening. “Our father is dead and it looks like our stepmother killed him right under our noses! She's trying to take away everything we have, getting her friends to cal and threaten and harass us, and now here's Jordan's goody-two-shoes girlfriend making me out to be a man stealer, or somebody. How the hell should I talk?!”
Jordan let out a long breath. “I thought you knew what you wanted,” he said after a minute.
“I'm young. Like you said,” she said cynically. “Sorry I ever asked you for help, Jordan, and made your
girlfriend mad. You can bet I'll never make that mistake twice.”
She turned and went into the kitchen and slammed the door behind her. She was learning real y bad habits from
Mr. Kemp, she decided, as she wiped tears away with a paper towel.
She heard the door open behind her and close again, firmly. It was Curt, she supposed, coming to check on her.
“I guess I handled that badly,” she said, choking on tears. “Has he gone?”
Big, warm hands caught her shoulders and turned her around. Jordan's eyes glittered down into hers. “No, he hasn't gone,” he bit off.
He looked ferocious like that. She should have been intimidated, but she wasn't. He was handsome, even bristling with temper.
“I've said all I have to say,” she began. “Well, I haven't,” he shot back, goaded. “I've never looked down on you for what you've got and you know it.”
“Julie Merrill does,” she muttered. His hands tightened and relaxed. He looked vaguely embarrassed. His dark eyes slid past her to the worn calendar on the wall. “You know how I grew up,” he said heavily. “We had nothing. I was never invited to parties. My parents were glorified servants in the eyes of the town's sociallet.”
She drew in a short breath. “And now Julie's opening the doors and inviting you in and you like it.”
He seemed shocked by the statement. His eyes dropped to meet hers. “Maybe.”
“Can't you see why?” she asked quietly. “You're rich now. You made something out of nothing. You have confidence, and power, and you know how to behave in company. But there's more to it than that, where the Merrill’s are concerned.”
“That's not your business,” he said shortly.
She smiled sadly. “They need financial backing. Their old friends aren't as wealthy as they used to be. Calhoun
Ballenger has the support of the newer wealthy people in Jacobsville and they don't deal in 'good old boy' politics.”
“In other words, Julie only wants me for money to run her father's re-election campaign.”
“You know better than that,' she replied, searching his hard face hungrily. “You're handsome and sexy. Women adore you.”
One eyebrow lifted. “Even you?”
She wanted to deny it, but she couldn't. “Even me,” she confessed. “But I'm no more in your class, really, than you're in Julie's. They're old money. It doesn't really matter to them how rich you get, you’ll never be one of them.”
His eyes narrowed angrily. “I am one of them,” he retorted. “I'm hobnobbing with New York society, with Kentucky thoroughbred breeders, with presidential staff members even with Hollywood producers and actors!”
“You could do that on your own,” she said. “You don't need the Merrill’s to make you socially acceptable. And in case you've forgotten, Christabel and Judd Dunn have been hobnobbing with Hollywood people for a year. They're not rich. Not really.”
He was losing the argument and he didn't like it. He glared down at her with more riotous feelings than he'd entertained in years. “Julie wants to marry me,” he said, producing the flat statement like a weapon.
She managed not to react to the retort, barely. Her heart was sinking like lead in her chest as she pictured Julie in a designer wedding gown flashing diamonds like pennies on her way to the altar.
“She doesn't want a career,” he added, smiling coldly.
Neither did Libby, real y. She liked having a job, but she also liked living in Jacobsville and working around the ranch. She'd have liked being Jordan's wife more than anything else she could think of. But that wasn't going to hap-pen. He didn't want her.
She tried to pull away from Jordan's strong hands, but he wasn't budging.
“Let me go,” she muttered. “I'm sure Julie wouldn't like this!”
“Wouldn't like what?” he drawled. “Being in my arms, or having you in them?”
“Are you having fun?” she challenged.
“Not yet,” he murmured, dropping his gaze to her full lips. “But I expect to be pretty soon”
“You can't!”
But he could. And he was. She felt the warm, soft, coaxing pressure of his hard mouth before she could finish the protest. Her eyes closed. She was aware of his size and strength, of the warmth of his powerful body against hers. She could feel his heartbeat, feel the rough sigh of his breath as he deepened the kiss.
He hadn't really meant to do this. He'd meant it as a punishment, for the things she'd said to him. But when he had her so close that he could feel her heart beating like a wild thing against him, nothing else seemed to matter except pleasing her, as she was pleasing him.
He drew her up closer, so that he could feel the soft, warm imprint of her body on the length of his. He traced her soft mouth with his lips, with the tip of his tongue. He felt her stiffen and then lift up to him. He gathered her completely against him and forgot Julie, forgot the argument, forgot everything.
She felt the sudden ardor of his embrace grow unmanageable in a space of seconds. His mouth was insistent on hers, demanding. His hands had gone to her hips. They were pressing her against the sudden rigidity of his powerful body. Even as she registered his urgent hunger for her, she felt one of his big, lean hands seeking between them for the soft, rounded curve of her breast
She pulled away from him abruptly, her mouth swollen, her eyes wild. “N-no,” she choked.
He tried to pull her back into his arms. “Why not?” he murmured, his eyes on her mouth.
“Curt,” she whispered.
“Curt.” He spoke the name as if he didn't recognize it. He blinked. He took a deep breath and suddenly realized where they were and what he'd been doing.
He drew in a harsh, deep breath.
“You have to go home,” she said huskily.
He stood up straight and stared down h
is nose at her. “If you will keep throwing yourself into my arms, what do you expect?” he asked outrageously.
She gaped at him.
“It's no use trying to look innocent,” he added as he moved back another step. “And don't start taking off your blouse, it won't work.”
“I am not!” she choked, crossing her arms quickly.
He made a rough sound in his throat. “A likely story. Don't follow me home, either, because I lock my doors at night.”
“She wanted to react to that teasing banter that she'd enjoyed so much before, but she couldn't forget that he'd taken Julie's side against her.
She stared at him coldly. “I won't follow you home. Not while you're spending all your free time defending Julie Merrill, when I'm the one who was insulted.”
He froze over. “The way Julie tell s it, you started on her first.”
“And you believe her, of course. She's beautiful and rich and sophisticated.”
“Something no man in his right mind could accuse you of,” he shot back. With a cold glare, he turned and went out the door.
He didn't pause to speak to Curt, who was just coming in the front door. He shot him a look bare of courtesy and stormed outside. He was boiling over with emotion, the strongest of which was frustrated desire.
Libby didn't explain anything to her brother, but she knew he wasn't blind or stupid. He didn't ask questions, cither. He just hugged her and smiled.
She went to bed feeling totally at sea. How could an argument lead to something so tempestuous that she'd almost passed out at Jordan's feet? And if he really wanted Julie, then how could he kiss Libby with such frustrated desire? And why had he started another fight before he left?
She was still trying to figure out why she hadn't slapped his arrogant face when she fell asleep.The tension between Jordan and his neighbors was suddenly visible even to onlookers. He never set foot on their place. When he had a barbecue for his ranch hands in April, to celebrate the impressive calf sale he'd held, Curt wasn't invited. When Libby had a small birthday party to mark her twenty-fourth birthday, Jordan wasn't on the guest list. Jacobsville being the small town it was, people noticed.
“Have you and Jordan had some sort of falling out?” Mr. Kemp asked while his new secretary, a sweet little brunette fresh out of high school named Jessie, was out to lunch.
Libby looked up at him with wide-eyed innocence. “Falling out?”
“Julie Merrill has been telling people that she and Jordan have marriage plans,” he said. “I don't believe it. Her father's in financial hot water and Jordan's rich. Old man Merrill is going to need a lot of support in today's political climate. He made some bad calls on the budget and education and the voters are out to get him.”
“So I've heard. They say Calhoun Ballenger's just pulled ahead in the polls.”
“He'll win,” Kemp replied. “It's no contest. Regardless of Jordan's backing.”
“Mr. Kemp, would they really use what happened at Julie's party as a weapon against her father?” she asked carefully.
“Of course they would!” he said shortly. “Even in Jacobs County, dirty laundry has a value. There are other skeletons in that closet, too. Plenty of them. Merrill has already lost the election. His way of doing business, under the table, is obsolete. He's trying to make Cash Grier fire those arresting officers and swear they lied. It won't happen. He and his daughter just don't know it and she refuses to face defeat.”
“She's at Jordan's house every day now,” she said on a sigh that was more wistful than she knew. “She's very beautiful.”
“She's a tarantula,” Kemp said coldly. “She's got her finger in a pie I can't tell you about, but it's about to hit the tabloids. When it does, her father can kiss his career goodbye.”
“Sir?” He lifted both eyebrows. “Can you keep a secret?”
“If I can't, why am I working for you?” she asked pertly.
“Those two officers Grier's backing, who caught the senator driving drunk ” he said. “They've also been investigating a house out on the Victoria road where drugs are bought and sold. That's the real reason they're facing dismissal. Merrill's nephew is our mayor.”
“And he's in it up to his neck, I guess?” she fished.
He nodded. “The nephew and Miss Merrill herself. That's where her new Porsche came from.”Libby whistled. “But if Jordan's connected with her” she said worriedly.
“That's right,” he replied. “He'll be right in hot water with her, even though he's not doing anything illegal.
Mud not only sticks, it rubs off.”
She chewed her lower lip. “You couldn't warn him, I guess?”
He shook his head. “We aren't speaking.”
She stared at him. “But you're friends.”
“Not anymore. You see, he thinks I took your side unjustly against Miss Merrill.”
She frowned. “I'm sorry.”
He chuckled. “It will all blow over in a few weeks. You'll see.”
She wasn't so confident. She didn't think it would and she hated the thought of seeing Jordan connected with such an unsavory business.
She walked down to Barbara's Cafe for lunch and ran right into Julie Merrill and Jordan Powell, who were waiting in line together.
“Oh, look, it's the little secretary,” Julie drawled when she saw Libby in line behind them. “Still telling lies about me, Miss Collins?” she asked with a laugh.
Jordan was looking at Libby with an expression that was hard to classify.
Libby ignored her, turning instead to speak to one of the girls from the county clerk's office, who was in line behind her.
“Don't you turn your back on me, you little creep!” Julie raged, attracting attention as she walked right up to
Libby. Her eyes were glazed, furious. “You told Jordan that I tried to throw my weight around in Kemp's office and it was a lie! You were just trying to make yourself look good, weren't you?!”
Libby felt sick at her stomach. She was no good at dealing with angry people, despite the fact that she had to watch
Kemp's secretaries do it every day. She wasn't real y afraid of the other girl, but she was keenly aware of their differences on the social ladder. Julie was rich and well-known and sophisticated. Libby was little more than a rancher's daughter turned legal apprentice.
“Jordan can't stand you, in case you wondered, so it's no use calling him up al the time for help, and standing at his door trying to make him notice you!” Julie continued haughtily. “He wouldn't demean himself by going out with a dirty little nobody like you!”
Libby pulled herself up and stared at the older girl, keenly aware of curious eyes watching and people listening in the crowded lunch traffic. “Jordan is our neighbor, Miss Merrill ,” she said in a strained tone. Her legs were shaking, but she didn't let it show. “Nothing more. I don't want Jordan.”
“Good. I'm glad you realize that Jordan's nothing more than a neighbor, because you're a nuisance! No man in his right mind would look at you twice!”
“Oh, I don't know about that,” Harley Fowler said suddenly, moving up the line to look down at Julie Merrill with cold eyes. “I'd say her manners are a damned sight better than yours and your mouth wouldn't get you into any decent man's house in Jacobsville!”
Julie's mouth fell open.“I wouldn't have her on toast!” one of the Tremaynes' cowboys ventured from his table.
“Hey, Julie, how about a dime bag?” some anonymous voice called. “I need a fix!”
Julie went pale. “Who said that?!” she demanded shakily.
“Julie, let's go,” Jordan said curtly, taking her by the arm.
“I'm hungry!” she protested, fighting his hold.
Libby didn't look up as he passed her with Julie firmly at his side. He didn't look at her, either, and his face was white with rage.
As she went out the door, there was a skirl of belligerent applause from the patrons of the cafe. Julie made a rude gesture toward them, which was followed by e
qually rude laughter.
“Isn't she a pain?” The girl from the clerk's office laughed. “Honestly, Libby, you were such a lady! I'd have laid a chair across her thick skull!”
“Me, too,” said another girl. “Nobody can stand her. She thinks she's such a debutante.”
Libby listened to the talk with a raging heartbeat. She was sick to her stomach from the unexpected confrontation and glad that Jordan had gotten the girl out of the room before things got ugly. But it ruined her lunch. It ruined her whole day.
It didn't occur to Libby that Jordan would be upset about the things that Julie had said in the cafe, especially since he hadn't said a word to Libby at the time. But he actual y Came by Kemp's office the next day, hat in hand, to apologize for Julie's behavior.
He looked disappointed when Kemp was sitting perched on the edge of Libby's desk, as if he'd hoped to find her alone. But he recovered quickly.
He gave Kemp a quick glare, his gaze returning at once to Libby. “I wanted to apologize for Julie,” he said curtly. “She's sorry she caused a scene yesterday. She's been upset about her father facing drunk-driving charges.”
“I don't receive absentee apologies,” Libby said coldly. “And you'll never convince me that she would apologize.”
Kemp's eyebrows collided. “What's that?”
“Julie made some harsh remarks about me in Barbara's Cafe yesterday,” Libby told him, “in front of half the town.”
“Why didn't you come and get me?” Kemp asked. “I'd have settled her hash for her,” he added, with a dangerous look at Jordan.
“Harley Fowler defended me,” Libby said with a quiet smile. “So did several other gentlemen in the crowd,” she added deliberately.
“She's not as bad as you think she is,” Jordan said grimly.
“The hell she's not,” Kemp replied softly. He got up. “I know things about her that you're going to wish you did and very soon. Libby, don't be long. We've got a case first thing tomorrow. I’ll need those notes,” he added, nodding toward the computer screen. He went to his office and closed the door.
“What was Kemp talking about?” Jordan asked Libby curiously.