“I guess we don’t have to worry about you being frigid.”
Her soft laughter drifted across the room. “I guess we don’t. Thank you, Dallas.”
“My pleasure.”
She laughed at the pun. “I ruined our supper.”
“Are you kidding? I’d rather eat—”
She clamped a hand over his lips. “Don’t you dare—”
He grinned. “I’d rather eat late anyway.”
Both of them laughed.
“Are you hungry?” she asked.
Dallas turned his head and nipped the side of her neck. “You wouldn’t believe how hungry. Just not for food.” He came up over her, captured her mouth again, and she felt his arousal, as big and hard as it had been before.
He slid inside her but he didn’t rush, and she thought that this was the perfect way to make love. Perhaps that was really the difference.
Love.
It was a terrifying thought.
They ate at two in the morning. Cold filet mignon wasn’t bad, Dallas thought, slicing off a chunk and popping it into his mouth with his fingers. And the shrimp salad was hardly wilted at all.
Dressed in the fluffy white terry cloth robes they found hanging in the bathroom, they sat at the table in the living room, picking through the food, trying to salvage what they could of their ruined meal.
Not that he was complaining. He glanced at the woman sitting across from him. In the light of the candle in the center of the table, she looked radiant and utterly luscious. Her skin glowed and her cheeks bloomed a soft shade of rose. Her lips were slightly kiss-swollen, her long, golden hair rumpled and sexy.
His groin tightened. He could hardly believe it. They had made love three times already and he wanted her again.
He smiled as he watched her eating, plucking the shrimp out of the wilted lettuce and plopping them into her mouth.
“I can see you aren’t the least bit hungry,” he teased, since it was obvious she was even hungrier than he was.
Patience stopped eating long enough to look up at him. “I’m ravenous.” She grinned. “Somehow I worked up an appetite.”
He smiled. “Yeah…somehow.”
A hint of color washed into her cheeks. He found it completely charming. Once they were finished, he would take her back to bed. He should probably let her sleep. For himself, he would give up sleep for the chance to be inside her.
In a way it was scary. It had been years since he’d been so hungry for a woman. Maybe never.
Still, this was new to them both and they had waited for weeks. By the time they left Houston, hopefully the newness would have worn off. He didn’t want to think about what would happen when they got back. Having a serious relationship was out of the question and both of them knew it.
Whatever they decided, he wasn’t going to let it ruin the time they had together.
Dallas took a last bite of steak. Over Patience’s shoulder, he could see the rumpled bed, and heat pooled in his groin. Every time she slid the fork into her mouth, his erection throbbed.
“I’m finally getting full,” Patience said.
“I’m still hungry.”
Her head came up. “Then why did you stop eating?”
Dallas grinned. “It’s time for dessert.” Shoving back his chair, he stood up and walked around to where she sat.
Patience stood up and turned into his arms. “I can handle it if you can, cowboy.”
There was no mistaking the desire in her eyes. That fool Tyler Stanfield had convinced her she was frigid. Dallas chuckled to himself as he scooped her into his arms.
“You still haven’t told me about your dad.” Patience sat beside Dallas in the same black stretch limo that had picked them up at the airport, heading for Avery Kingman’s sixtieth birthday party. “What does he do for a living?”
“Dear ol’ Dad is a plastic surgeon.”
“You’re kidding.”
“As a matter of fact, he’s a doctor of some renown. He even does the occasional movie star and politician. You’ll see why when you meet my stepmother.”
“Your stepmother? You mean your father worked on her face?”
“Rachael’s forty-eight but she looks thirty. She’s a walking advertisement for my father.”
“You don’t like him much, do you?”
Dallas seemed to mull over the question. He still hadn’t answered by the time the limo pulled up in front of an elegant, two-story red-brick home in an exclusive neighborhood north of Houston. Patience waited while the chauffeur opened the door and Dallas climbed out to help her.
He was dressed
GQ
again today, a navy blue double-breasted suit, white shirt, and power tie, though his feet were encased in polished black ostrich boots. He had left his hat in the hotel room, a concession to his father, he had said, but she could tell it didn’t sit well with him.
“I feel half naked without it,” he had grumbled.
Patience just laughed.
She walked in front of him up the wide brick stairs, in through the double white-painted front doors, and stepped into the foyer, where his mother and father stood greeting their guests.
“David!”
An exquisite dark-haired woman hurried toward them, enveloping Dallas in a hug. She was every bit as strikingly beautiful as Dallas had claimed, with perfectly sculpted cheekbones, full red lips, and big dark eyes. Dallas hugged her briefly then stepped away. “Avery, look! David is home.”
“David?”
Patience hadn’t realized she had spoken the word out loud until Dallas answered.
“My parents couldn’t agree on what to name me. My mother wanted Dallas, after her father. My father wanted to call me David, after his grandfather. They compromised. My full name is David Dallas Kingman.”
“I see.” She saw that his parents couldn’t agree on even so basic a thing as the name of their son.
“Hello, David.” Avery Kingman was almost as tall as Dallas, an attractive man with dark brown hair, silver at the temples, and eyes the same striking blue as his son’s.
“Happy birthday, Dad. It’s good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you, too, son. Thank you for coming.” The two men shook hands. She noticed no hugs were exchanged, just stiff formal greetings.
“I’d like you both to meet a friend of mine,” Dallas said. “This is Patience Sinclair.”
Rachael Kingman managed a smile as she scrutinized the simple black silk sheath dress Patience wore and the string of pearls around her neck. “A pleasure to meet you.”
“Patience is from Boston,” Dallas added.
A look of interest came into Rachael’s dark eyes. “Boston?”
“Yes.” Patience managed a smile. “I’m traveling the rodeo circuit this summer. I’m working on an article about early and modern-day women in rodeo.”
“I see.” Some of the interest faded. “Which magazine do you write for, dear?”
Don’t say it,
a little voice warned, but the condescending tone of Rachael Kingman’s voice forced out the words.
“Actually, I’m working on my doctoral thesis. I’m in the graduate program at Boston University.”
Next to her, Dallas’s whole body went rigid. Patience didn’t dare look at him. All she could think was
oh, God, what have I just done?
But Rachael Kingman was smiling, looking at her with approval and a cunning light in her eyes. “How interesting.” She shot a look at her stepson. “That’s quite something, isn’t it, David? Her doctoral thesis?”
“Yeah. It’s something, all right.” The words sliced right through her. She should have told him. She knew it, but she had been afraid of his reaction. There were already enough differences between them without adding more.
“When will you be ready to take your final examination?” Rachael asked. In the light from the hanging chandelier, her upswept dark hair shone like onyx and the street-length black and white floral designer gown she wore must have cost a fortune.
“It’s scheduled for the end of summer. I’ve already accepted an assistant professorship at a small college outside Boston, starting this fall.”
Rachael oozed a smile. “That’s wonderful, dear.” She flicked a glance at Dallas. “Isn’t it, David?”
“Yeah, terrific.”
Rachael reached over and took Patience’s arm. “I think most everyone is here.” She cast a conspiratorial glance over her shoulder at her husband. “Why don’t we go in and join the others? There are some people I’d like the two of you to meet.”
Avery fell into step beside his son. Patience recognized the moment he noticed Dallas’s boots, for his mouth thinned in disapproval.
“I thought maybe your coming here tonight might mean you had finally decided to stop playing games and settle down to a real sort of life.”
Dallas stopped just inside the archway leading into the spacious living room. It was done in a traditional style with camelback burgundy sofas and beige wool carpets. Dark wood cabinets lined one wall and expensive beige draperies hung at big bay windows.
“Look, Dad. I just got here. If you’re going to start this whole thing up again, I’m going to turn around and leave. I told you before—my life is my own. I made my choice when I quit school and nothing you say is going to change my decision. I was hoping your invitation meant you had decided to accept me the way I am.”
Rachael cast Avery a look of warning. With a sigh of defeat, he made a stiff nod in Dallas’s direction. “You’re right. The past is the past. Tonight is my birthday. Let’s enjoy ourselves.”
But as the evening progressed, Patience didn’t think Dallas was enjoying himself at all, and with the dark looks he continued to toss her way, neither was she.
Dallas knew a number of the guests, the cream of Houston society, and his stepmother introduced them to others. There were several Texas politicians, including a senator and a congressman, Houston’s mayor, a number of professional people, and of course, the wealthy couples able to afford the doctor’s expensive services. After each introduction, Rachael mentioned that Patience was writing her doctoral thesis, and Dallas grew more and more remote.
He was angry, she knew. She wished she had told him the truth a long time ago.
“You ready to get out of here?” It was only just past ten and the party didn’t seem to be winding down, but Patience could see the tension in his shoulders.
“I’m ready if you are.” She hoped she could make him understand the reasons she had kept her silence, but it didn’t look like it was going to be easy.
They said their farewells to his parents. Dallas had given his father a commemorative bottle of Oban, his favorite single malt scotch, for his birthday. Not exactly personal, but the doctor seemed to like it well enough. He and Rachael tried to get Dallas to stay in Houston a couple more days, but Dallas declined the invitation.
“I’ve got to go. I’m riding in Salinas this week, then catching up with Charlie in Cheyenne.”
“Charlie,”
Avery repeated, the word almost a growl. “Don’t mention Charlie Carson’s name to me. If it hadn’t been for your mother’s brother, you never would have dropped out of school. You would have graduated by now and be living a responsible life, instead of gallivanting all over the country, acting like some Wild West cowboy.”
“I am a cowboy, Dad. And I need to win all the money I can if I’m going to make the Finals in December.”
Avery grunted. “Charlie Carson is a fool. He always has been. I should have put a stop to you staying with him at the ranch, but your mother was gone and I was working long hours. I should have known better. As far as I’m concerned your uncle is responsible for ruining your life.”
A muscle flexed in Dallas’s jaw. “I made my own choices. None of it was Charlie’s fault. Someday maybe you’ll understand.”
His father’s mouth flattened out and Rachael’s winged, dark eyebrows drew together. Avery let the subject drop and Dallas seemed relieved. They said very formal farewells and Dallas turned to collect Patience as he made his way toward the limo. They rode back to the hotel in silence, Patience trying to think what she might say to lighten his dark mood.
They were entering their suite by the time she had worked up the courage. She waited until he closed the door.
“I’m sorry things didn’t go better between you and your dad.”
“Yeah? What about the nice little surprise you sprang on me tonight?
Ph.D. Assistant professor.
Christ, I should have figured you for something like that.”
“I didn’t tell you I was working on my thesis because I thought you would look down your nose at me if you thought I was some sort of academic. I thought it would only make things harder between us.”
A muscle flexed in his jaw. His eyes looked dark and angry. “Is that so?” Rudely, he grabbed her wrist and pressed her hand against the fly of his slacks. “Well, things couldn’t get any harder.”
He was aroused. Angry and aroused, and for an instant it frightened her. Then he backed her against the door, slid his hand up into her hair, knocking out the little pearl combs that kept it swept up, and took her mouth in a rough, demanding kiss.
Her body flooded with heat. In the past two days, they had made love again and again. She knew what it would feel like to have him inside her, knew the delicious sensations, how incredibly turned on she would get. She wanted it—wanted him—just as she had each time before.
Dallas kissed her fiercely, took her with his tongue, kissed her until he had her moaning.
Then he turned her a little and she felt the arm of the sofa beneath her stomach as he bent her over. He slid up her narrow black skirt and ripped off the black silk thong panties she wore underneath. She was hot and wet, her body quaking with desire. She didn’t resist when she heard the buzz of his zipper, felt the heavy thickness of his erection as he thrust himself fully inside.
He took her hard, holding her hips in place, pounding into her and setting her on fire. Patience arched her back, taking all he could give, silently demanding more. She didn’t know what the future held for either one of them. She couldn’t let herself love him, but she wanted him, wanted everything he could give her and more, wanted him for as long as she could have him.
They both came fiercely, their bodies heaving, trembling with the effort. Dallas eased her dress down over her hips and gently drew her back against his chest.
She heard his sigh whisper into the darkness. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
She shook her head. “No.” She could feel the tension still running through his body.
“We’re just so different,” he said gruffly.
“I know.”
“My father and mother were that way. You saw what he’s like. Can you imagine him married to a rancher’s daughter? It didn’t matter that she’d had three years of college. They had nothing in common. There was just no way it could possibly work.”
Patience made no reply. Her throat was aching. She could imagine what he must have endured as a child, living with two such unhappy people. She knew he was thinking that the two of them were equally different—and it was the truth.
She turned into his arms and they tightened around her. She felt the brush of his lips against her hair.
“Let’s get some sleep,” he said, an odd sort of weariness in his voice. “We’ve got to get up early in the morning.”