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He was at the breakfast table when she went down only hours later, her eyes still bloodshot from lack of sleep, and she wondered idly why he hadn't gone out with the hands. His pale eyes shivered over her as she sat down across from him, and a hint of a smile curved his mouth. "It's about time you crawled out of bed," he told her, sipping his coffee as he eyed her. "I want you to come out with me today." She stared at him uncertainly. "Where?" she asked. "Roundup starts this morning." "Oh!" She couldn't hide the surge of excitement that statement created. Every year she'd begged to be taken along when the first of the cattle were brought in from winter pasture to be moved to summer quarters. New calves were branded, and the vet was around to check for disease. It was the most exciting time of the year on a cattle ranch. "You love it, don't you?" he asked with narrowed eyes. "Every bit of it, from the branding to the culling, even tossing hay to the horses. Yes, Miss Priss--" he nodded at her start of surprise "--I hear what goes on around here. You conned Johnny into letting you feed the horses in the stalls. Or didn't you think he'd tell me?" "I thought ranch managers were supposed to keep their mouths shut," she grumbled. "They are--but you're forgetting, I don't keep a ranch manager, I keep an assistant manager. Nobody manages this spread except me," he added. "As if I didn't know." She sighed. "You manage everybody on it, too, when they'll let you." "You used to let me," he said. "I grew up," she said smugly. "Not quite," he said with a meaningful lift of his eyebrow. She glared at him across the table. "Maybe it depends on the man, did you ever think of that?" The smile got deeper. "Or maybe the man just didn't try hard enough. Next time, I won't be so impatient." Her eyes widened and she dropped them to her plate with volcanic eruptions taking place in her blood. "There won't be a next time," she said firmly, although her voice wasn't quite steady. "Are you coming with me? You'll have to change. That pretty pantsuit will be ruined if you wear it." She glanced down at the white slacks and matching top. "More likely it'd turn red," she mused. "Jeans and a cotton shirt okay, boss?" He smiled at her. "And boots. Got yours?" "Of course. I do ride, you know," she reminded him. "I haven't seen you on a horse in two months." "You haven't looked in six months to see what I was on," she teased. He didn't smile at that. His pale eyes caught hers and held them for a long time with a searching look that made her forget the blistering heat of the cup in her hand. Bessie came in noisily with the coffeepot and broke the spell. Eleanor held her cup out with a smile while she fought to calm her stampeding pulse. "Haven't touched your breakfast," the housekeeper scolded. "He ruining your appetite?" she nodded toward Curry. "Maybe it's the other way around." Curry grinned, winking at Bessie. "Well, aren't we in a good mood this morning!" Bessie said brightly as she filled his cup again. "What'd you do, foreclose on somebody?" "You," he told the buxom woman, "are pushing your luck." "Not likely. Who'd you find with the gumption to put up with you?" she shot back. Eleanor smiled. "She does have a point," she put in. "Look who's talking," Bessie scoffed. "You only just got the good sense to leave after three years of it." The smile faded as Bessie went out again, and she felt an aching emptiness inside her that breakfast couldn't fill. "Don't think about it," Curry said suddenly, his jaw set, his eyes somber. "Let's take it one day at a time, honey." "I'm still going, Curry," she told him gently. He met her eyes. "We'll see." "We won't see anything," she returned, putting the cup down. "I'm not taking any more orders, and you're not going to bulldoze over me...oh!" He'd moved out of his chair while she was in midsentence to stand by her chair. All at once his head bent, and he pressed a hard, quick kiss against her open mouth. "Stop talking and get your clothes changed," he told her. His lean hand ruffled her hair. "I can't wait all day." He was gone out the door before she could come up with a lucid sentence. Her fingers went involuntarily to her parted mouth. She could still feel the warm, hard pressure against them. He was on the phone downstairs when she got changed into faded jeans, boots, and a blue-patterned cotton blouse. She'd tied her hair back with a blue ribbon to keep it out of her face and left off her makeup. The prospect of spending a whole day with Curry had been too tempting to turn down, but when she heard him call Amanda's name while he spoke into the receiver, all the color went out of the day for her. "I told you," he was saying gruffly, "I'm not being railroaded, Amanda. Either we wait until I'm ready, or we call the whole damned thing off. You don't want to? Then what the hell are you doing in Houston?" There was a pause and he cursed under his breath. "You couldn't turn it down? Then stay there. Don't `oh, Curry' me! I want you like hell, but not enough to let you lead me around like a broken stallion. My terms, Amanda. No ifs, buts or maybes. My terms, or nothing. All right." He sighed roughly. "Maybe the breathing space will do us both good. I'll see you in two weeks, and we'll talk about it. Sure. Bye." He hung up and stood there staring down at the phone, his hard-muscled body as taut as a stretched rope, running a restless hand through his hair. He looked as if he might explode, and Eleanor hesitated uncertainly on the bottom stair. As if he sensed her presence, he turned, and his pale, troubled eyes looked full into hers. "Problems?" she asked softly. He nodded. His eyes traced her slenderness like an artist's brush. "Take your hair down," he said. "It gets in my eyes," she faltered. He moved close, and his lean, brown hands reached up to untie the ribbon, letting the soft waves tumble down. His fingers tangled in the softness gently, touching the warm flesh of her throat through it, his breath coming harder and heavy at her forehead. "Please," she whispered shakily as his fingers contracted bringing her face up to his suddenly blazing eyes. "Please don't use me to keep your mind off her," she whispered. His jaw clenched, his nostrils flared. "Is that what you think?" "It's what I know. I...I couldn't help overhearing." She dropped her eyes, licking her dry lips as she fought to keep her emotional upheaval from showing. "I'm sorry you're upset, but hurting me won't help." "Would it hurt you?" he asked softly. She didn't know what he meant, but she was afraid to ask. "Shouldn't we go?" "Norie, don't be afraid of me," he whispered against her temple, using the familiar nickname for the first time. "Little Dresden china doll, I won't hurt you again, physically or emotionally. Don't run from me." "I...I'm not running, I just don't want..." "Don't want what?" he murmured, placing his lips against her closed eyelids. "Let me make love to you." "No!" She pushed away with all her strength and backed against the wall like a stalked fawn, her pale green eyes enormous in her pale face. His eyes narrowed painfully. "God, don't look like that!" he exploded. "You...you make me feel like something hunted," she exclaimed. "Please!" He whirled with a hard sigh and a muffled curse, running his hand around his neck tightly as if there was an ache in it he couldn't ease. "Come on, if you're not afraid to ride with me," he growled as he reached for his battered work hat and started out the door. She followed along behind him, the day ruined, afraid of him as she'd never been. She hesitated on the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |