Diana Palmer Texan Lovers. Diana Palmer
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to even respond. She’d behaved like a child.
Justin lifted an eyebrow and waited expectantly. When she didn’t say anything, he prodded, “Well?”
“I said some terrible things to him,” she confessed finally. “I was jealous.”
“And hurt,” he said perceptively.
“And hurt,” she sighed. Her blue-gray eyes met his dark ones. “Oh, Justin, he hates me. And I can’t even blame him. I hurt his pride so badly that I don’t imagine he’ll ever talk to me again.”
“Incredible, isn’t it, that you could hurt him,” he mused. “When women have been trying for years to get through that thick hide and never have.”
“He’s been responsible for me for a long time,” she said quietly. “I guess it’s hard for him to let go.”
“Maybe,” he said. He took another draw on the cigarette. “Maybe not. He’s acting strangely lately.”
“Maybe he’s got the gout or something,” she suggested with a slight smile.
“Or something.”
She sipped her coffee so that she’d have something to do with her hands. She had to talk to Justin about Friday night, and it was only just dawning on her how difficult it was going to be.
“Justin, I have to tell you something.”
His dark eyebrows lifted. “This sounds serious,” he said with a faint smile.
“It is. And I hope you won’t get mad at me.”
His chin lifted. “Is it about the Jacobses?”
“I’m afraid so,” she sighed. She looked at her coffee, because his eyes were getting darker by the second. “Tyler asked me to a square dance Friday night, and I said I’d go.” She clenched her teeth, waiting for the outburst. When it didn’t come, she looked up. He was watching her, but without any particular anger. She continued quickly, “I don’t have to let him pick me up here. I can meet him at the dance. In fact, Shelby did her best to stop him from asking me, because she didn’t want to upset you.”
Something passed across his face, too fleeting to identify. But for one wild second his eyes were soft and quiet and full of wonder. Then it was gone, and he stared down at his glowing cigarette. “Did she?”
“She didn’t want Tyler to make any trouble,” Abby said gently.
“It’s been six years,” he said after a minute, his face quiet and oddly gentle. “Six long, empty years. I’ve hated her, and I’ve hated the family. I guess I could go on hating them until we’re all dead. But it wouldn’t change anything. It’s all over and done with, a long time ago.”
“She’s so lovely,” Abby said.
Justin winced, and there were memories in his dark eyes, in his taut face. He crushed out his cigarette roughly. “Tyler can pick you up here,” he said abruptly, and got to his feet. “I won’t give him a hard time.”
She looked up as he passed by her chair and then down at her cup, thoughtfully. “She lives like a nun, you know. Tyler says she hasn’t dated anyone for years.”
Abby thought he stopped then, just for a second, but it might have been her imagination, because he kept walking and he didn’t say a word.
What a pity, Abby thought with quiet melancholy, that love could die so violent a death. And the saddest part of it was that in spite of what Justin said, she’d have bet Justin and Shelby were still madly in love, even though it had been six years since they’d broken up. What had Shelby done to make Justin turn against her so vehemently? Surely just being given back his engagement ring wouldn’t make a man so vindictive!
Abby got up from the table and went to her room. It was much too early to go to bed, but she didn’t relish the idea of staying downstairs and having Calhoun stare holes through her. Avoiding him had suddenly become imperative.
That wasn’t too hard. But avoiding the memories that lingered in her room was. The wall where he’d pinned her with his big body and kissed the breath out of her was all too empty. In the end she pushed a bookcase against it, just to keep her mind from replaying the scene.
She went to work as usual for the rest of the week, and so did Calhoun. But there was a difference. There was no soft greeting, no smile, no teasing grin. This Calhoun was more and more like his older brother. The fun had gone out of him, leaving behind a hard, formidable businessman who alternately ignored Abby or chewed her out for any nervous mistakes she made. It was impossible to get near him, even to talk.
By quitting time on Friday, she was a nervous wreck. She looked forward to the square dance like a doomed prisoner coveting an appeal. At least the dance would get her out of the house and take her mind off Calhoun. Not that she expected him to be home on a weekend. He’d probably be up in Houston with his model. Abby gritted her teeth as she thought about that.
Hindsight was a sad thing, Abby reflected, and she’d only begun to realize why Calhoun had been out of control with her in the bedroom. It hadn’t been because he was angry or because he was punishing her. He’d been out of control because he’d wanted her. She was almost sure of it now, having asked Misty some subtle but intimate questions about men. Calhoun had wanted her, and she’d stabbed his pride bloody. She could have cried, because she’d had his attention and hadn’t even known it. He was well and truly cured now. He didn’t speak to her unless he had to, and he avoided her like the plague. She was glad she’d had that room reserved at the boarding house, because she had a feeling she was going to need it any time now.
She dressed in a red-checked full skirt with several crinolines and a perky white blouse with puffy short sleeves and a button front. It was almost March, but it was still cold, and she got out her long tan coat to wear with it. Tyler was due at six, and it was almost that when she went downstairs, her long hair silky and clean around her shoulders, wearing just enough makeup to give her a rosy-cheeked glow. She’d never wished more that she was blond or that she could have a second chance with Calhoun. Just her luck, she thought miserably as she made her way down the staircase, to foul everything up on the first try. Why hadn’t she realized that Calhoun felt passion, not anger? Why hadn’t she waited to give him a chance to be tender? He probably would have been if she hadn’t struggled with him.
She reached the bottom of the staircase just in time to watch Calhoun open the front door for Tyler, because Maria and Lopez had the night off. Abby’s heart jumped helplessly at the sight of those broad shoulders and that long back. Calhoun was so big he even towered over Tyler.
Abby’s body tensed as she wondered if Justin had told Calhoun she’d be going out with Tyler. But he finally opened the door all the way and let the other man inside.
Tyler, in jeans and a red checked Western shirt and bandanna and denim jacket, looked as Western as a man could get, from his black boots to his black hat. Calhoun was dressed in a similar fashion, except that his shirt was blue. They stared at each other for a long moment before Calhoun broke the silence.
“Justin said you were taking Abby out,” he said tersely. “You can wait in the living room if you like.”
“Thanks,” Tyler said, equally tersely, as he met Calhoun’s eyes and glanced away.
“I’m already dressed,” Abby said with forced cheerfulness, smiling at Tyler and getting a smile back. She didn’t look at Calhoun. She couldn’t. It would have been like putting a knife in her heart.
“Then let’s go,” Tyler replied. “I hear the Jones boys are going to play tonight. You remember Ted Jones, Calhoun; he was in our senior class back in high school.”
“I remember him,” Calhoun said quietly. There was a smoking cigarette in his hand, and he looked like a stranger.
A minute later, Justin came out of his study, stopping short when he saw the three of them. He and Calhoun were wearing almost identical clothing,