Christmas On The Range: Winter Roses. Diana Palmer
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“How about some of this punch?” Ivy asked her best friend. “It looks very good.”
Merrie was diverted. “Yes. I’ll bet it tastes good, too. But I want a word with Shelby Ballenger before I indulge. I’ll be right back.” She went toward Shelby. Ivy filled two glass cups with punch and handed one to Stuart.
He made a face. “It’s tropical punch, isn’t it? I hate tropical punch.”
“They have coffee, too, if you’d rather,” Ivy told him, putting the punch down on the table.
He met her searching eyes. “I would. Cream. No sugar.”
She poured coffee into a cup, adding just a touch of cream. She handed it to him, but her hands shook. He had to put his around them, to steady them.
“It’s all right,” he said softly. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
She didn’t understand what was happening to her. The feel of his big, warm hands around hers made her heart race. The look in his pale eyes delighted, thrilled, terrified. She’d never had such a headlong physical reaction to any other man, and especially not since that incredible night when he’d held her and kissed her as if he couldn’t bear to let her go. It had haunted her dreams for more than two years, and ruined her for a relationship with any other man.
She let go of the cup with a nervous little laugh. “Is that enough cream?” she asked.
He nodded. He sipped it in silence while she sipped at her punch. The music was playing again, this time a slow, bluesy two-step.
Merrie came back to them, grinning. “I asked Shelby if she’d save me one of those border collies she and Justin are breeding. They’re great cattle dogs.”
Stuart scowled at her. “What the hell do you need with a cattle dog?”
“It’s not for me,” she replied. “There’s a sweet little girl on my ward who has to have a tumor removed from her brain. She’s scared to death. I asked her parents what might help her attitude, and they said she’d always wanted a border collie. It might be just what she needs to come through the surgery. You see,” she added sadly, “they don’t know if it’s malignant yet.”
“How old is she?” Ivy asked.
“Ten.”
Ivy winced. “What a terrible age to have something so deadly.”
“At least she’ll have something to look forward to,” Stuart added. “You really are a jewel, Merrie.”
She made an affectionate face at him. “So are you. Now let’s dance or eat or something so we don’t burst into tears and embarrass Ivy.”
He cocked an eyebrow and gave Ivy a mischievous look. “God forbid that we should embarrass her.” He put down his coffee cup. “Dancing seems more sensible.”
He took Ivy’s glass of punch and put it down, only to draw her back onto the dance floor.
* * *
It was the sweetest evening of Ivy’s life. She danced almost exclusively with Stuart, and he didn’t seem to mind that people were watching them with fond amusement. It was well-known that Stuart played the field, and that Ivy didn’t date anyone. The attention Stuart was showing her raised eyebrows.
Merrie didn’t lack for partners, either, but she seemed subdued since Hayes had left. Ivy wondered if there wasn’t something smoldering under Merrie’s passive expression that led back to that old crush she’d had on Hayes.
When it came time to leave, Merrie informed Stuart that she was going to ride home with one of the Bates twins, who passed right by their house. She didn’t give a reason, but Stuart didn’t ask for one, either. He linked his fingers into Ivy’s and drew her outside to his big, sleek Jaguar.
“I can’t remember when I’ve enjoyed a party more,” he remarked.
“It was fun,” she agreed, smiling. “I don’t get out much at night. Usually I’m trying to keep up with the accounts, including doing estimated taxes for all my clients four times a year. It keeps me close to home.”
“You and Merrie have lost touch since she went to work in San Antonio.”
“A little, maybe,” she replied. “But Merrie is still the best friend I have. That doesn’t go away, even when we don’t see each other for months at a time.”
He was quiet for a minute. “Have you heard from Rachel?” he asked.
She drew in a painful breath. “Yes. Last week.”
“How was she?”
She wondered why he was asking her questions about her sister, whom he hated. “Pretty much the same, I guess.” Except that she was steadily higher than a kite when she called Ivy, and she was running around with someone else’s rich husband, she added silently.
He shot a glance at her. “That isn’t what I hear.”
Her heart welled up in her throat. She’d forgotten that he moved in the same circles as other rich, successful men. Rachel’s garden slug of a boyfriend knew such people in New York. Stuart might even know Rachel’s latest lover. “What do you hear?” she asked.
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