After the Music (7 page)

"I'll just get my suitcase out of the car. Be right back." Al told Sabina with a smile and a wink. As he walked out, she had to fight the urge to run after him.

"You make everything a challenge, don't you?" she asked Thorn after a minute.

His gaze almost knocked the breath out of her. "Honey, you're a walking challenge," he said. "And if you aren't careful, baby brother or no baby brother, I'm going to take you up on it."

"I'm not issuing an invitation. I have wonderful instincts for self-preservation," she replied as lightly as she could.

He drew a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it without taking his gaze off her. "What a hell of an irony," he said with a cold laugh. "That night in Al's kitchen, I'd never touched anything so sweet. And not five minutes later, I had to face what you actually were."

Her temperature was rising. "I'm a rock singer," she told him coldly. "Not a tramp. My profession has nothing to do with my morals."

His breath came deeply, as though he were deliberately controlling it. The cigarette fired trails of smoke between his lean fingers. "I won't let you marry Al," he said forcefully. "I'll do anything I have to do, but I'll stop you."

"Anything?" she challenged.

He nodded slowly. "Within limits," he said quietly, letting his eyes wander slowly down her body. "Don't make me hurt you, Sabina." His voice was deep and as smooth as velvet as he watched her. "You can't help what you are, I suppose. But I want Al married for something more than his bankroll."

Her face dropped. "You think I'm a gold digger?"

"I know you are," he said. "Remember the check for twenty thousand that I gave you?"

She wanted to tell him what she'd done with it. But that would lead to other questions, questions she didn't want to answer. He might get the truth out of her in a weak moment, and where would that leave Al and Jessica?

"If you do what I ask, I'll forget the check," he said. "And I'll get you all the performances you and the band can handle. All you have to do is leave Al alone."

"But, he's such a sweet little feller," she murmured with a wicked smile. "Besides, he turns me on, you know?"

He moved closer, so that she could feel the warmth of his body, and the wild longings it produced tricked her into looking up. His eyes trapped hers. His free hand moved to her face and lightly touched her mouth. The slight sensation made it tremble.

"Stop that. You're no more an experienced woman than I am a monk. I've had women. And if you're not damned careful, I'll have you."

"After I've been embalmed, maybe," she retorted. "And will you please remember that I'm engaged to Al?" she said too quickly.

His fingers were under her chin, sensually tracing the long line of her throat, and she could taste his smoky breath on her lips, feel the strength, warmth and power of his lean body and smell his cologne and faint leathery scent.

"Sure you are. For now." He traced his fingers over her soft cheek, down to the curve of her lips. He drew in a slow, heavy breath. "Skin like milk," he whispered. "Soft mouth, even if it doesn't quite know how to kiss."

Her eyelids felt heavy, her body felt weak. She looked up at him and couldn't look away.

He dropped his hand abruptly as if the contact with her skin was disturbing to him. "I'm not gentle," he said abruptly. "There's never been a woman who could make me gentle. I like it rough, and I don't hold anything back. And that's the last thing you need, cream puff. I won't seduce you. That's not my way. But I could lose my head with you, so keep a few yards away from me while you're here, okay? It would be hell living with myself if I seduced a virgin."

She couldn't even move, the words were such a shock.

"Yes, I know," he said softly, searching her eyes. "It doesn't go with your image, or even with the other things I know about you. But I'd stake my life on your innocence." His eyes fell to her mouth, lingered there. "It would have been so easy, I even had it planned. Now I'll have to find some other way."

"I don't understand."

"I'm ruthless. Didn't Al tell you? I always get my own way. Always." He sighed angrily. "Except with you. If you'd been the experienced little tart I thought you were, I could have seduced you and told Al, and that would have been the end of it."

Her eyes were lost in his. "You'd go that far?" she asked quietly.

He nodded. "He's my brother. I love him, in my way." His gaze silenced her. "He's the only thing I do love, so look out.

You chose to ignore the warning I gave you. You took a bribe and welched on it."

"Did I?" she murmured, staring up at him. "Why don't you tell Al?

"Not just yet," he replied, his eyes promising dark delights. "I'm going to bide my time. Maybe it will be worth the twenty thousand to have you off the place."

His eyes were the coldest she'd ever seen. If he was vulnerable in any way, it didn't show, but she could almost picture him as a child. She'd have bet that he was a loner from the beginning, a quiet, confident child who wouldn't be pushed by anyone. He'd probably done his share of fighting because of his mother.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked, his tone jarring.

"I'm sorry we're enemies," she said with her irrepressible honesty. "I'd have liked you for a friend."

His face got even sterner. "I don't have friends. Men or women."

"Did it ever occur to you that not everybody in the world is after you for what they can get?"

He burst out with laughter that was cynical and mocking. "You're just the person to tell me about that, aren't you, honey? You, with your eyes like dollar signs!"

"Sabina?" Al called.

She turned and quickly fled from the den without looking at Thorn. "Here I am," she called. "I'll freshen up and meet you back down here, okay?" she told him, as she ran up the staircase. Al followed, frowning thoughtfully.

Remembering what Thorn had said to her made her knees go weak. The threats she understood; he was trying to protect his brother. Ironically, so was she. But in spite of it all, how had he known she was a virgin, when all his imagined evidence pointed in the opposite direction? She turned away from the mirror, forcing herself not to ask impossible questions. All she had to remember was that Thorn was the enemy. If she forgot, he could destroy any hope of Al's marriage to -Jessica. She had to keep that in mind. If only it wasn't so difficult to hate him. He was a rich man, like those she'd known in her childhood, like the last one in her mother's tragic life....She shuddered a little at the black memory, but even that couldn't get the oil baron out of her mind. Somehow, she felt a kinship with him. She understood him. She wore a mask, too, and shunned emotional involvement. What a pity they were in opposite camps.

Chapter Four

Sabina hadn't ridden a horse in a long time, but she sat on the little mare Thorn gave her with grace. It had been a long time, but she remembered very well how to ride. Her grandfather had taken care of her for a year or two, until he died, and he'd been a good rider himself. It had been the happiest period of her life. She'd loved her grandfather dearly, and mourned terribly when she lost him.

The country around the ranch was fascinating. Not too many miles away was the Big Thicket, a fascinating junglelike area where orchids grew wild. Early in the 1800s it had been a trapping outpost. Nearby were the ruins of a French trading post. After that came lumber and rice plantations. And in the early 1900s, oil was discovered in the Spindletop Oil field. Beaumont became the birthplace of three major oil companies. Four, if Thorn Oil was included. The Sabine River, which led into Orange, east of Beaumont, was the origin of Sabina's name. Her father, she understood, had lived on its banks as a boy.

As they were coming back from a look at some land where men were setting up a drilling rig, Thorn had explained it to Sabina with unexpected patience. She had been openly fascinated by it. Al had grinned, watching them, because he'd never seen Thorn so approachable. Al himself looked different in Western gear, except that his jeans were new and had a designer label, and his gray hat was smothered in feathers. Next to Thorn, in his worn and obviously used outfit, he seemed citified. "It's great out here," Al told his brother.

"I'm glad you said that," Thorn drawled, cocking his hat over one eye. "I'll let you help us brand the replacement heifers."

"It's not that great, Thorn," came the quick reply, with a grin.

"So I figured. You need to get out here more often. Sitting behind that desk all the time isn't healthy. Neither is all the partying," he added with a pointed glance at Sabina.

"Al doesn't party." She defended Al, not looking at Thorn. "He has parties."

"Is there a difference?" he drawled.

Al interrupted. "That's all over, anyway. When Sabina and I get married, I won't have the time anymore."

That set the big man off. He reined in his horse and stared at Al until the shorter man visibly fidgeted.

"Marriage is a big step. What about her career?" he asked pointedly. "Is she going to give it all up to stay home with you?"

"So what if she wants to work? What's wrong with a woman being independent?" Al asked.

"Not a damned thing," his brother agreed, "until her independence interferes with your own. Do you like the way other men leer at her in those body stockings she wears?"

"I wouldn't call it leering," Al muttered.

"Well, I would," Thorn said flatly. He crossed his tanned forearms over the pommel and glared at Sabina. "And what are you offering him? Your spare time? I understand you're on the road most of it."

That was a question she hadn't thought about. Her music was part of her life, giving it up was impossible. But she was supposed to be engaged...it was time to think fast. "Well, I guess I'll just stay home and have babies," she sighed, and looked up in time to catch an odd expression in the oil baron's eyes. He let his gaze drop down her body, till he was eyeing her midriff. He frowned before he caught her eyes again. Incredibly, she blushed.

"Are we going to see the rest of the ranch now?" she asked quickly. "I'm getting hungry."

"The old timers," AI murmured with a grin, "used to butcher a cow along the way."

"Beef on the hoof," Sabina said with an evil smile in Thorn's direction. "Walking steaks..."

"Touch one of my purebred Herefords and I'll take your arm off," Thorn replied with a faint smile.

"Spoilsport," she muttered. "Some host you are."

"They're purebred, dammit!" Thorn laughed reluctantly.

"Okay. Tell you what," she said agreeably. "I'll eat the registration papers with it."

His blue eyes twinkled unexpectedly. Al had to stifle a smile of his own. It had been years since he'd seen Thorn like that. The older man was grim most of the time; he hardly ever cracked a smile. Sabina was working subtle witchcraft on Thorn.

She sighed and shrugged. "Well, if I faint from lack of food, and fall onto a rattlesnake, and get bitten and die, just remember, it's all your fault."

Thorn held back another laugh and turned his stallion. "Come on, for God's sake, and I'll feed you."

He spurred his horse and rode ahead of them to open a gate. Sabina's eyes followed him helplessly, her heart spinning in her chest, a bright new feeling making her light-headed with elation.

"He never laughs," Al said under his breath. "That's a first."

"He's just forgotten how," Sabina said, and her eyes were soft on the tall man's back. "Jess said that deep inside he was a lonely man, and I didn't believe her. Now I do."

"He's lonely from choice," he reminded her, concerned. "Don't go soft on him, Sabina. You never know with Thorn. He'll get your guard down, and then he'll strike. I've seen it happen far too often."

"I'll be careful," she promised. After all, it was just a game, wasn't it? "Don't forget to invite me to the wedding."

Al grinned. "You can give her away, if you like," he teased. She glared at him. "How did I ever get friends like you?"

"Pure luck," he returned smugly. Sabina laughed and rode after Thorn.

They didn't dress up for dinner that night, although Sabina had halfway expected that they would. Nevertheless, she wore a gray skirt and blue-and-white checked blouse instead of jeans.

Thorn was alone in the living room, brooding over his drink. The white pullover sweater he was wearing with his dark slacks emphasized his own deep tan and black hair. As if he felt her watching him, his head turned and his icy blue eyes met hers.

"Where's your satin, rock star?" he chided.

"I didn't want to risk having your heart stop, Mr. Thorndon the Third," she said with a wicked smile as she joined him.

He caught her arm with a lean, steely hand and held her as she tried to walk past him. "I've told you that I don't like that name," he said in a tone softly laced with menace. "Don't push me. It's dangerous."'

She could feel the danger, and she regretted her barb almost as she'd said it. "Mr. Thorndon, then," she said softly. "Will you let me go, please?"

"Did it hurt to ask?" he chided, abruptly releasing her arm. He turned away. "What will you drink?"

"I don't."

He whirled. "You what?"

"I told you at Al's party. I hate alcohol."

He scowled down at her. "A social drink isn't considered alcoholism"

"I'm sure it isn't, and I'm not sitting in judgment," she assured him. "I simply do not like the taste of liquor."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself, tulip."

"What?" she broke out.

"Tulip," he repeated. His pale gaze wandered over her face, down to the deep, full red of her mouth. "Maybe someday I'll tell you why I call you that."

"It must be some horrible reason," she said with resignation, sitting down.

"I'm not a bad man," he said, towering over her as he moved to the side of her chair. "I just don't like opportunists."

Her eyes searched his blue ones. "Or women."

His face hardened. As he took a long drink from the glass he studied her quietly.

For an instant the room seemed to vanish-everything seemed to stand still. She found unexpected depths in those eyes of ice blue and her heart felt jumpy and odd. His lean, dark,, fingers caressed the glass he was holding, and she felt as if he were touching her. There was something fierce about the way he was looking at her; an odd kind of violence lingered under his thick black lashes. She had to struggle not to remember what they'd shared in that kitchen at Al's house.