Long, Tall Texans: Calhoun (19 page)

She was dancing much too close to Tyler in a lazy two-step, when she felt eyes on her back. Without looking, she knew Calhoun had arrived. He'd spoiled her party by not showing up until it was almost over, and she hated him.

Having settled that in her mind, she kept her eyes closed and kept dancing.

"Calhoun's here," Tyler murmured into her hair.

"So what?" she said icily.

His eyebrows arched. He glanced at Calhoun, who was thunderously angry, and then at Justin, who was heading toward his younger brother with an expression that would have made a lesser man than Calhoun back off.

"Abby, Justin's going toward Calhoun with blood in his eye."

"Good," she muttered. "I hope he kills him."

"Abby!"

She bit her lower lip. "I don't care."

"You don't care like hell," Tyler replied curtly. He stopped dancing and held her by the arms. "Stop it. If you want him, for God's sake, show him that you do. Don't pout and hem and haw until you lose him."

"You don't understand," she began.

"Abby, look at Shelby and Justin," he said quietly. "Is that how you want to end up?'

She searched Tyler's face and then looked over to the doorway, where Justin and Calhoun were talking in terse monosyllables. "All right," she said wearily.

He smiled. "Good girl. Go on."

She hesitated, but then she walked away. Tyler watched her go, a faint sadness in his own eyes. That was quickly erased when Misty Davies wandered over in a frothy gold party dress and asked him to dance.

Justin stopped talking when Abby came near. He glared at

Calhoun. "Tell it to Abby," he said shortly. "She's been having a hell of a good time, though, all by herself."

Justin smiled faintly at them and wandered off to talk to another of the guests, leaving a cold-eyed Calhoun and a fum-ing Abby staring at one another.

"Thank you for coming," she said with faint hauteur. "I'm having a lovely time."

"How could you think I'd willingly treat you like that?" he asked quietly. "Turn my back on you, deliberately arrive late, embarrass you with your guests... Oh, God, don't you know me better than that?"

He disconcerted her. She looked up at him helplessly. "What happened?"

"I ran the Jaguar into a ditch and damned near wrecked it," he said with a mocking smile. "I was going too fast, and I took a curve where there'd been an oil spill that I didn't know about."

Her face went white. She saw a graphic mental picture of him lying in a ditch, dead. It erased all her stupid suspicions and left her shaking.

Without a word, she pressed hard against him. She held him, trembling, oblivious to her surroundings, to everything but Calhoun.

"You're trembling," he said, faintly surprised. His big hands went to her back, where it was bare over the deep plunge of her dress. "I'm all right, honey."

She held him tighter, fighting tears. The trembling grew worse, and she couldn't seem to stop.

"For God's sake...!"

He drew her out of the room, one big arm supporting her, and into the study. He locked the door behind them, shutting out the music and muffled conversation and other party sounds. His dark eyes looked down into her wild, pale ones.

"I wouldn't have missed your party on purpose, little one," he said gently.

That was the old Calhoun, she thought wildly. Her guardian. Her protector. The kind, caring older man who looked after her and kept her safe. But he didn't look or sound like a lover, and she supposed that he'd used those weeks to good advantage, getting her out of his system. She felt sick and shaken, and she wanted nothing more than to go home and cry herself to sleep.

"No, I'm.. .I'm sure you wouldn't have," she said, her voice husky. She forced a smile. "It was kind of you and Justin to let me have the party here."

His dark eyes narrowed. He leaned back against the door, elegant in his evening clothes, the white silk of his shirt emphasizing his high cheekbones, his blond hair and dark skin, his powerful build. "You sound strange," he said, "You look strange."

"I've had a long week, that's all." She was beginning to sound like a broken record. "I'm enjoying my new job. I like it very much. We stay busy. And—"

"Stop it," he said softly.

Her eyes closed, tears burning them. Her hands at her sides tautened into fists and she fought for control.

"I'm sorry."

"Come here, Abby," he said in a tone that she remembered, deep with tenderness, soft with sensuality.

She opened her eyes. "I don't want pity," she whispered.

His chin lifted. "What do you want?"

She lowered her gaze to his highly polished shoes. "The moon," she said wearily.

He moved forward abruptly. One big, lean hand caught hers and pried it open. He placed something in it and curled her fingers around it. She frowned. Something small and thin and metallic...

She opened her hand. It was a ring, a very simple circle of gold without any flourishes or frills. It was a wedding ring.

He bent, lifting her. He carried her to the burgundy sofa and put her down on it. Then he knelt on the carpet beside her, his lean hands on her waist, his blond hair gleaming like the golden ring in the soft fight from the ceiling.

"I love you," he said softly, holding her gaze as he said it.

Her eyes searched his, getting lost in their dark, unblinking intensity. "W-what?"

"I love you," he repeated. "I didn't know it until the night I almost made love to you, and even then I wasn't sure that I

could settle down." He laughed faintly, watching her with eyes that adored her. "But I'm sure now. These past few weeks have been the purest hell I've ever known. A dozen times I've almost stormed over to your apartment at three in the morning to get into bed with you. I've thought about kidnapping you from work and carrying you off into the mountains. But I promised to give you time, and I have. Now I've run out of it.

If you don't marry me, so help me, I'll ravish you where you sit."

"I'll marry you," she whispered. "But—"

"But what?" he whispered back.

Her lips parted as she let her shoulders droop, so that the silky fabric of her dress fell and revealed all of her breasts except the hard tips. "But wouldn't you ravish me anyway?"

His breath caught. "As if I needed asking..."

His hands finished the job, stripping the fabric to her waist. He sat looking at the soft, pretty swell of her breasts, watching her breathe for a long moment before he drew her toward him and bent his head.

She began to tremble when she felt his mouth on her soft, heated skin. Her hands cradled his head and she wept softly, kissing his hair, whispering to him. "I love you," she murmured. "I'm sorry I...made a fuss. I thought you were out with some woman, that you didn't want me.... Oh, Calhoun!"

His mouth had opened, taking almost all of one perfect breast inside to taste, to caress with his tongue. His lean hand was at her back, searching for a zipper, and in the next instant she was on the carpet under him, her body bare from the neck down except for her briefs and her stockings.

"I was in Houston buying a ring. Buying two rings. Your engagement ring had to be sized. It's a yellow diamond." He kissed her hungrily. "I got caught in traffic, and since I knew I was going to be late, I rushed back...too fast. But it's all right now, isn't it, sweetheart?" He eased his hands down her body, feeling her tremble. "Abby, suppose we make love right here?" he murmured, stroking her gently with his warm, hard fingers.

"Someone might come in," she whispered breathlessly.

He smiled as he bent. "I locked the door," he breathed into her open mouth. "I'm hungry."

"I'm hungry, too."

His nose nuzzled hers. "Or we could go up to my bedroom," he murmured huskily. "And lock the door.

Even Justin wouldn't disturb us there."

"The guests..."

"They'll never miss us. They're too busy enjoying themselves. I want you, Abby. I want you for the rest of my life, until I die. And if I get you pregnant..." He lifted his head, searching her warm, soft eyes. "Would you mind having my child?"

She touched his mouth with aching tenderness. "I love you," she said. "I want to have lots of babies with you."

He actually shuddered. "You're very young."

She smiled. "All the better." She traced his heavy eyebrows with her finger. "I can play with them."

He smoothed back her hair, his eyes full of wonder. "Abby...I never dreamed how sweet it would be to belong to someone. To have someone of my own. And a family." He touched her breasts tenderly. "Ever since the first time I touched you, I've felt as if there'd never been a woman for me. You make it all new and exciting. You make me feel whole."

"You make me feel the same way." She reached up to find his mouth with hers, kissing him slowly, tenderly. "Justin won't like it if we go upstairs together."

"He won't see us," he whispered and smiled wickedly. "Where's your sense of adventure?"

"I'm nervous—"

"We'll be married by tomorrow afternoon. I've already got the license. All we need is a blood test, and we can have that in the morning.

"You rake," she said accusingly.

"Reformed rake."

"All right," she breathed.

He searched her eyes quietly. "I need you badly. But I can wait if you want me to."

"You don't want to," she said.

He smiled. "I've felt married to you since that night in my apartment, Abby. A piece of paper and a few solemn words aren't going to tie me to you any more firmly than I am right now. I love you, honey," he said softly. "That's the beginning and the end of my life, wrapped up in those words."

She pressed against him. "I love you so."

He helped her into her dress and led her out the back door, around through the guest bedroom and to the rear staircase. Then he picked her up, laughing softly, and carried her upstairs. He'd just made it to the landing and was turning the corner toward his own room when they ran headfirst into Justin and almost went down on the floor with the impact.

Abby gasped. Calhoun actually turned blood red. Justin's eyebrows went up expressively. Then they just stared at each other.

"Tired of dancing?" Justin asked after a minute, his lips pursed mischievously.

Calhoun cleared his throat. "We were going to..."

"...talk," Abby improvised.

Justin's dark eyes went over Abby's face, reading all the telltale signs there. Then he glanced toward Calhoun and stared him down.

"Oh, what the hell," Calhoun muttered darkly. "You know damned good and well where we were going and why. But there's something you don't know. I love Abby. We're getting married tomorrow. The license is in my pocket."

"And the ring," Abby added, faintly embarrassed at being caught in such a compromising situation.

"Congratulations," Justin said pleasantly. "I couldn't be happier for both of you. And if I might just add, it's about time."

Calhoun shifted Abby. "Thank you."

"You'll be a lovely brother-in-law," Abby agreed.

"The very best," Calhoun added.

Justin smiled. "It won't work. I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you."

"Damn it, Justin!" Calhoun ground out.

' 'Twenty-four hours is just overnight," Justin continued. "Then you can both go to Houston and have a honeymoon in that penthouse apartment you bought."

"Listen here..." Calhoun began.

"Abby, you tell him how you really feel about this," Justin said, staring at her.

She grimaced, her hands linked around Calhoun's neck. She sighed. "Well, I love him," she said finally.

"I thought you wanted to," Calhoun said softly, searching her embarrassed face. "I'd never have forced you."

"Oh, I know that," she said, her eyes worshipful. "But I couldn't refuse you."

He smiled ruefully. "You're one of a kind," he said gently. "And I love you."

"I love you, too," she whispered, smiling.

He kissed her softly. "I guess we'd better wait, since Justin is going to stand there until he takes root."

"I guess we had," Abby murmured.

Calhoun put Abby on her feet. "Well, let's go downstairs and dance, Abby," he said. "Then we can sing that terrific drinking song that Justin taught you."

Justin glared at him, looking uncomfortable. "You started that."

Calhoun's eyebrows lanced upward. "All I did was dance with Shelby."

Justin stared at him coldly. "And if you hadn't been my brother, I'd have broken your jaw for it."

There was a faint sound behind them, and Justin turned to find Shelby standing two steps behind him.

"Go ahead, Shelby, get an earful," Justin said icily. "Does it please you that after six years I still feel murderous when another man touches you?"

"That works both ways, Justin," Shelby said quietly. "Or didn't you know that it would kill me to see you with another woman?"

She turned and stormed off downstairs. Justin stared after her, shocked.

"Why don't you carry her upstairs?" Calhoun asked his

brother with pursed lips. "Then Abby and I could stand on the landing and block your way."

Justin said something in Spanish that Abby was glad she didn't understand and stomped off downstairs.

Calhoun glanced at Abby's questioning face and grinned. "I'll tell you after we're married," he whispered in her ear.

And he did tell her two days later as they lay together in the big soft bed at his penthouse, sated and close in each other's arms as the sun drifted lazily through the blinds.

"What did Justin say to you the night you started to carry me upstairs?" she asked drowsily.

"He said that if he ever took Shelby to bed it would be on a desert island with mines on the beach." he chuckled. "Poor Justin," he added quietly. "To love like that and not even have a memory to live on."

She lifted her eyes to his, her hand lazily stroking his thick, hair-matted chest. "What do you mean?"

"Justin never slept with Shelby," Calhoun said softly. "And since the engagement broke off, he's never slept with anyone else."

She caught her breath.

"It isn't so incredible, Abby," he mused, rolling over to look down into her soft eyes. The covers had long since been thrown off, and his dark gaze slid over her nudity with possession and exquisite memories of the night before. "I couldn't touch anyone else after I kissed you."