Long, Tall Texans: Calhoun (8 page)

But as it was, there was nothing to worry about. When she finally went downstairs at lunchtime, wearing jeans and a beige knit top, her hair in a ponytail, Calhoun was nowhere in sight.

"Good morning," Justin said from the head of the table, smiling faintly. "How did it go last night?"

"Don't ask," she groaned. She sat down and glanced nervously at the door. "Is he here?"

He shook his head and filled his cup with coffee then passed the carafe to Abby. "He's still asleep," he said.

That was surprising, because Calhoun was usually up early. Justin actually grinned then. "What happened?"

"He thinks I should be in before two o'clock in the morning, even if he isn't," she said calmly. "And you're too old for me," she added with a faint grin, eyeing him.

He chuckled. "What else?"

"He's going crazy, Justin," she said. "I don't know what's gotten into him lately. It can't be his love life—his model seemed to be more than willing," she added cattily.

Justin looked at her, but he didn't reply. He poured cream into his coffee. "Oh, I almost forgot. Misty phoned. Something about having an apartment she wanted you to look at today if you want to go with her."

"Yes, I think I do," she murmured with a cold glance at the staircase.

"You know I don't approve of Misty as your prospective roommate," Justin told her honestly. "But it's your decision."

"You're a nice man."

"I'm glad you think so. Obviously my brother thinks I'm as big a rake as he is." He chuckled.

"Thank God you aren't," she sighed. "One in the family is enough!"

"If you're going out, you'd better wear a jacket," Justin warned. "I stepped out to get the paper and almost froze in place."

Abby sighed again. "And they keep saying spring is just around the corner."

She finished her breakfast and called Misty to tell her she'd be right over. Then she returned to her room to get her burgundy velour jacket. She was looping the last button when she turned to the open door and found Calhoun standing there, looking at her broodingly.

He'd just showered. He was bare chested, and his blond hair was damp. But Abby's eyes stopped at his brawny chest in helpless appreciation of the sheer masculinity of him. He leaned idly against the doorjamb, and muscles rippled under the wedge of thick brown hair that ran down into the wide belt around his slender hips. He didn't smile, and his dark eyes had heavy circles underneath them. He looked as tired as Abby felt.

"Where are you going now?" he asked coldly.

"Out to look at apartments," she said carelessly. "In a little over two and a half months I'll be needing one."

"How does Justin feel about that?" he asked, his eyes narrowing angrily.

"Justin isn't the one who's trying to keep me in a cage," she replied. She was tired of the whole thing, of his unreasonable anger and even of Justin playing cupid. "Look, Justin just took me out for a meal. He didn't park the car and try to make love to me. He isn't that kind of man, and you should be ashamed of yourself for thinking he is. Justin's like a brother to me. Just...as you are," she finished, averting her eyes. "I don't have romantic thoughts about either one of you."

"And that's a damned he," he said in a cold tone. He jerked away from the door, slamming it behind him, bringing her shocked eyes to him as he advanced toward her. "I'm no more your brother than I'm your great-uncle."

She backed up into a chair, swerved and made it to the wall. He looked dangerous, and she didn't know how to handle this lightning mood switch.

"That's what you want me to be," she said accusingly, pressing against the cold wall. "You want me to be a kid sister and not get in your way or make eyes at you—"

"My God, I don't know what I want anymore," he ground

out as he placed his big hands on either side of her head, his body too close, too sensuous, too deliriously
masculine. The scent of him filled her nostrils, excited her senses. She could see the tiny golden tips of the hair
on his chest now, glittering in the light. Glittering...like the dark, intent eyes that caught hers and held them.

"Calhoun, I have to go," she said, her voice faltering.

"Why?" he asked.

She could see him breathing. His chest rose and fell roughly, as if he were having a hard time getting air in and
out. She felt that way herself. He was too close, and her vulnerability was going to start showing any minute.

She couldn't bear to have him see her weakness and make fun of it.

"Stop it," she whispered huskily, closing her eyes. "Damn you, stop...oh!"

He had her mouth under his so smoothly and easily that her heart seemed to stop beating. He wasn't gentle,
either. It was as if the feel of her soft body under his made him wild, made him hungry.

In fact, he was starving for her. He leaned down so that his hips and thighs were fully against her, so that his
bare chest was against the velour of her jacket. He didn't like not being able to feel her breasts, so he snapped
open the buttons of the jacket and pushed the material aside. He felt her gasp as her breasts pressed against
him, and he groaned, marveling at the warm softness of her. Nudging her lips apart, he nipped sensuously at
the lower one. That was arousing, too, and he wanted her. He wanted her mouth as he wanted her soft, sweet
young body. His tongue pushed into her mouth, past her lips, tangling with her own, and he groaned and gave
her his full weight, pressing her against the wall.

Abby was frightened. She hadn't expected anything quite so adult, and she'd never been kissed by anyone who
had any expertise. Calhoun was experienced, and he was kissing her as if she knew all the answers, too. But she
didn't. The feel of his body in such unfamiliar intimacy was embarrassing, and his mouth was doing shocking
things to her own. She pushed at his chest, afraid of his lack of control.

"No!" she whimpered.

He barely heard her. His mind was spinning, his body in torment. He managed to lift his head, breathing roughly, and look down at her.
But
the passion and delight he had expected to see in her pale eyes was missing. They were wide, but not with desire. With... fear!

He scowled. Her hands were on his chest, but they were pushing, not caressing, and she was crying.

"Abby," he whispered gently. "Honey..."

"Let me...go," she sobbed brokenly. "Oh, let me go!" She pushed again, harder.

This time he flexed his hands against the wall and pushed away from her, leaving her cold, empty. She moved past him, putting half the length of the room between them. So
that
—
that!
—was what passion felt like. She shivered a little at the memory. Her mouth hurt where his had ground against it, and her breasts were sore from the hard pressure of his chest. He hadn't even tried to be gentle. She stared at him accusingly, her eyes bright with tears as she drew her jacket closer and shivered.

Calhoun felt as if he'd been hit in the head with a hammer. Her reaction hadn't been anything like what he'd expected.

He'd almost kissed her once before, and she'd been yielding then, willing. But now she looked as if she hated him.

"You hurt me," she whispered shakily.

He was lost for words. Concerned, he stared at her, his dark eyes quiet on her wan face. She looked as if she had never experienced a man's passion. Was that possible? Could any woman be that unawakened in this day and age?

"Haven't you ever been kissed?" he asked softly.

"Of course I have," she replied stiffly.
"But not...not like that!"

His eyebrows went up. At last he was catching one, "My God," he said huskily. "Abby, adults kiss that way!"

"Then I don't want to be an adult," she returned, coloring. "Not if I have to be mauled like that!"

He watched her turn and leave the room, and he was powerless to stop her. Her reaction had floored him completely.

He'd expected her to know a little about lovemaking, at least, but she seemed totally innocent. She'd never known a deep kiss or the intimacy of a man's body.

It should have pleased him, but he found it irritating that she thought he'd mauled her. By God, he should have let her go out with Myers. Then she'd know what it was to be mauled!

He left the room and closed the door, his expression thunderous as he heard her footsteps going down the staircase and then her muffled goodbye to Justin.

Calhoun went back to his own room. He was breathing roughly, and his heart wouldn't beat properly. He felt hot all over. Frustrated. Furious. Damn Abby and her soft body. It was driving him out of his mind!

He went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Well, it was a good thing she didn't like his kisses, because hell would freeze over before she ever got another one.

Abby was blissfully unaware of Calhoun's thoughts. She climbed into her car and started it with hands that were still trembling. How could Calhoun have hurt her like that if he'd cared anything about her? He'd just proved how little she meant to him. He'd only been interested in his own pleasure, not hers. Well, he could go back to his blondes for all she cared. She was sure she hated him now.

Misty was already dressed and waiting when Abby got to the colonial mansion the older girl shared with her parents.

Misty took them to town in her little sports car, and for once Abby didn't mind the wind. It might blow away her misery. Just thinking about Calhoun's rough treatment made her miserable. She loved him and it hurt terribly that he could treat her that way. But she had to pretend that nothing was wrong, so that Misty wouldn't start asking questions that Abby didn't want to answer.

They parked in town and went to the first address on Misty's list. It was an apartment above a sweet shop, on the corner across from the bank. Misty didn't like the place, because there was only one bedroom and she wanted her privacy.

Abby deliberately put the implications of that remark in the back of her mind and added that she didn't like the view. It was too close

to the center of town, and there was a good deal of traffic on Saturday night.

The second place they went was just right. The room being rented was upstairs in a private house owned by a Mrs.

Simpson, who was friendly and bright and welcoming. That turned Misty off completely. She didn't want an old busybody watching out for her. But Abby was rapidly coming to the conclusion that Misty was going to do some entertaining once they were on their own, and her association with the Ballengers made her balk at the thought of Misty's plans.

"I'll take it," she told Mrs. Simpson, "if you don't mind having just me instead of both of us, and if you aren't in a hurry for me to move in. It will be a few weeks...."

"That will work out fine. I'm going off to my sister's for a week or so, anyway." Mrs. Simpson smiled broadly, her blue eyes fighting up. "My dear, I'd be delighted." She leaned forward while Misty was still upstairs grumbling about the lack of privacy. "Your friend seems very nice, mind you, but I'm rather old-fashioned...."

"So am I," Abby whispered, putting her finger to her lips when Misty came downstairs again.

"No, I'm sorry, it won't do," she sighed.

"I have the perfect solution," Abby told her. "I'll take this one, and you take the other one. It'll be great. We can visit each other, and we'll both have our privacy."

Misty raised an eyebrow. "Well...it might be nice at that. But you said you wanted to room with me."

Mis. Simpson excused herself, asking Abby to phone her later about a date for moving in.

Abby moved with Misty to the door. "Let's face it," she told her friend, "you want to entertain men, and I'll have Calhoun and Justin all over me if they find out about it. I'm sure you don't want them on your case."

Misty shuddered delicately. "Are you kidding? Calhoun, maybe, but not Justin! That man doesn't have a humorous bone in his whole body."

Abby remembered how amused Justin had been about Calhoun's behavior, but she just nodded her head.

"Let's have coffee," Misty suggested. She drove them back into town in her little sports car and parked beside the bank.

The two women had just gotten out of the car when Tyler Jacobs and his sister Shelby came around the corner looking somber and disturbed.

Abby greeted them. "Tyler. Shelby. How are you?"

"This isn't a good time to ask," Shelby sighed, but she smiled. She was a dish. Short dark hair framed her elfin face, and she had eyes that were an odd shade of green, almost glassy in color. Her mouth was perfect, and she was tall. She would have made a fortune as a model, but her parents wouldn't have heard of such a profession for their only daughter.

Tyler was like his sister in coloring. He had thick dark hair, almost black, and an olive complexion and the same odd-colored green eyes. He was as big as Calhoun, but slender. Whipcord-lean and dangerous-looking. He wasn't handsome at all, but he had character, and women usually found him irres-tible.

Misty turned to see where Abby had gotten to and smiled delightedly at Tyler.

"Well, hello," she drawled. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Hello, Misty," he said, smiling lazily. "You look devastating, as usual. What are you two doing in town on a Sun-day?"

"Looking for an apartment to share, originally." Abby sighed. "But we wound up with one each, across town from the other. I'm renting from Mrs. Simpson, and Misty has a neat place overlooking the bank."

"Right up there, in fact." Misty pointed across the street. "It needs decorating, but I can take care of that."

Abby grinned. "I'll bet you can."

"Come and have coffee with us," Shelby invited. "Tyler needs cheering up. We had a bad blow yesterday, and an even worse one today."

Abby looked up at him. He did seem reticent. And moody, which was totally unlike him. "I'm sorry. Can I help?"

"You little doll," he murmured, and touched her hair gently. "No. But thanks for the offer. How's Calhoun?"