Friends and Lovers (16 page)

She stared at him, fascinated. “Can we go back?” she asked involuntarily.

“No,” he admitted. “Only forward. One step at a time, one day at a time. No commitments, no strings, on either side. No dragging up the past.”

Her eyes lovingly traced every craggy line of his face. She shouldn’t accept. If she had any sense, she’d get up and run. But she loved him too much to refuse these few little crumbs of comfort from him. A few more days in his company couldn’t hurt. All too soon, her condition would become obvious and she’d have to leave Houston. But right now, she only looked well-fed. He wouldn’t even suspect. If she could stop fainting, that was. But an empty stomach might have caused that, and he was a man. What did he know about pregnant women?

“All right,” she said after a minute.

He brightened. “I’ll have Josito come after you about six. Better yet, we’ll both come.”

Her eyes widened. “My goodness, I don’t need an armed escort!”

He shifted uncomfortably and looked away. “I don’t want you driving around alone at night. Humor me, will you?”

“But I’ve always done it before,” she protested.

He looked as if he was dying to say something, but couldn’t. The mustache twitched irritably. “There have been two robberies in one week on your street. At night. Late. Just humor me, will you, damn it?”

She laughed at the controlled ferocity in his face. “All right. It’s your gas.”

“Damned straight, it’s my gas,” he replied. “What good is owning an oil company if you can’t enjoy using your own product?”

She couldn’t argue with that.

***

The Rolls purred up the driveway at six sharp, with Josito grinning at the wheel and John looking like a fashion plate in his dark evening clothes as he climbed out of the backseat to help her inside.

His eyes approved of the long, black gown—it was the same one she’d worn to the charity ball, but she’d changed the red rose for a white one. She hadn’t had much choice about which dress to wear: this was the only one in the closet that would still fit.

“Where are we going?” she asked curiously.

“To where they serve the best steak in Houston,” he replied with a smile.

“And where is that?”

“My apartment.”

She felt her cheeks going white as she stared at him. His hand came out and caught hers in a warm, reassuring grasp. It was warm and faintly rough against her smooth skin, and the touch of it made music in her blood.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” he said quietly. “I meant what I told you earlier. And Josito’s going to be there all night. He’ll protect you with his very life.”

She relaxed. But only a little. The memories were going to come rushing back the minute she walked through the door, and she was afraid of them.

Her eyes scanned John’s rugged face. What would he do, she wondered, if she looked him in the eye and said, “John, I’m pregnant?” A tiny mischievous smile flared in her eyes and died before she lifted them. He’d probably faint, she thought. After which…She didn’t dare think about afterward. Her fingers clutched her purse firmly. She had to control herself.

“Okay,” she said. “Where did the steak come from? The ranch?”

He gaped at her with an appalled expression. “The ranch? My God, I don’t run beef cattle!”

She blinked. “I thought we were friends.”

“We are.”

“Is one of those pedigreed, mangy old cows of yours too good to serve to your friend?” she prodded.

He shifted impatiently. “Those ‘mangy old cows’ bring around twenty-five thousand dollars or more at auction. They’re purebred. You don’t eat purebred breeding cattle.”

“Why not? Do you have to eat the papers with them?”

He drew in a slow breath. “God give me patience…”

“He did not,” she pointed out. “You have absolutely no patience.”

“I did once,” he reminded her with a slow, tender smile.

She blushed to the roots of her hair and caught her breath, avoiding his penetrating gaze.

There was a short pause before he asked, quietly, “Are you still ashamed of what happened?”

Now there was a question. She looked out the window at the beautiful night-lights of the city. “Isn’t Houston pretty at night?” she asked with forced brightness.

He only laughed, and it sounded vaguely predatory.

***

The steak was incredibly tender. Josito served it with homemade rolls, baked potatoes smothered in sour cream and a cold, crisp salad. There was a peach cobbler for dessert. Madeline ate as if it were going to be her last meal, aware of John’s amused gaze the whole time.

“Well, it was delicious,” she said defensively, her lower lip thrusting out at him.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” he replied. He got up, holding her chair for her, and led her into the living room.

“Brandy?” he asked.

She almost accepted it, then changed her mind. Alcohol wouldn’t be good for the baby.

He smiled as he went to pour himself a small whiskey, eyeing her over the rim of the glass.

“Rather have whiskey?” he chided, and laughed when she made a horrible face.

He leaned back against the bar and stood just looking at her, his silvery eyes glancing over every rounded inch of her body with a purely possessive boldness.

She lifted her chin. “Looking for rips in the material?” she asked politely.

He shook his head, still smiling. “It becomes you, honey,” he said in a deep, hushed tone.

Her eyes immediately became suspicious. “What does?”

“Gaining weight, of course. I’ve noticed, you know,” he muttered as he raised the glass to his lips and sipped the amber liquid. “What did you think I meant?”

She flushed, looking away. “Nothing.”

He laughed softly as he moved to sit down beside her on the plush couch. She glanced at him warily, remembering the last time they’d shared this sofa, and what it had led to.

“Don’t look so threatened,” he murmured gently. “I promised not to touch you, didn’t I?”

“You do it very well with your eyes, John Durango,” she informed him. He was very close, and she felt the impact of that closeness—the warmth of him, the clean, male scent of his cologne. She crossed her legs and tightened the clasp of her fingers in her lap.

He sighed deeply, leaning back. His eyes closed, and he looked as if he’d just returned from months in the desert.

“Tired?” she asked with involuntary concern.

His mouth smiled under the bushy mustache. “Dead. I’ve kept up a killing work schedule.” One eye opened, watching her. “Not to mention being out of sorts with you.”

She flushed. “Don’t put all the blame on me, if you please,” she bristled. “It was your suspicious mind that started the whole thing.”

He shook his head. “No, honey, it was taking you to bed that started it.” He caught her eyes, his head turning sideways against the back of the sofa, and there was an expression in them that made her tingle all over. “Was it as rough on you as it was on me, having a sword between us?”

She nodded. “We’ve been very close over the years, and I didn’t realize how much time we spent together until we weren’t doing it anymore.” She smiled wistfully. “I…felt alone.”

“So did I.” He caught her fingers in his big, warm ones and held them gently. “Madeline, suppose we…spent a lot more time together.”

“How do you mean?”

He took a deep breath and looked straight into her curious eyes. “I mean, why don’t we get married?”

She felt the shock of the words right down to her toes. She froze, staring at him as though she’d gone mute.

He grimaced. “Damn, I shouldn’t have sprung it on you like that. I meant to lead up to it…well, it’s too late now,” he said stubbornly, his jaw tightening. “Will you?”

Her lips tried to make words, trembled, and tried again. “We…you said you’d never marry again,” she faltered.

“So I changed my mind,” he growled. He fumbled in his pocket for a cigarette and retrieved his gold-plated lighter from his pocket.

She watched him light the cigarette, startled at the suddenness of his proposal. He said he wanted to marry her, yet he had never spoken of love. If he loved her, how could he have treated her the way he had the past six weeks? It didn’t make sense, none of it made sense. And then there was the baby….

If only she could trust him not to hurt her the way he had before. But if he had reacted so violently to the mere sight of Donald in her bedroom, how would he react to the news that she was pregnant? Would she ever be able to convince him that the child was his, not Donald’s? She didn’t think she could bear the hurt of having him turn away from her again. She wished she had the time to be sure of his feelings, to build up his trust in her. But time was one thing she didn’t have. In another month or so her pregnancy would begin to show…. Oh, God, it was an impossible situation.

“I can’t marry you,” she said at last.

He studied her quietly, smiling at the fear and uncertainty he read in her lovely face. “Oh, I think you will,” he murmured. “All you need is a chance to get used to the idea. I always get my way, honey, and I happen to want you like hell.” His voice lowered, softened. “Now more than ever.”

That light in his eyes puzzled her.

“Why?” she demanded.

His darkening eyes slid down every taut inch of her body in the clinging black dress, and he smiled wickedly. “You’d be shocked at the reasons,” he murmured. “Come here and I’ll show you a few of them.”

She grabbed up her purse from the coffee table and walked deliberately toward the door. “Goodbye, John,” she ground out. “Thanks for the steak.”

“How were you planning to get home?” he asked politely.

She paused with her hand on the doorknob, thinking. “I’ll get a cab.”

He chuckled. “Wait a minute. I’ll have Josito run you over to the house. And this time I won’t insist on going along. Does that brighten your evening?”

“Yes,” she said defiantly.

But he only smiled, getting up from the sofa like a big, graceful cat. “Just remember, Satin. You’ll see it my way sooner or later.”

***

The house was beginning to look like a florist’s shop. Every day there was another dozen roses—red ones, pink ones, white ones, apricot ones—from John.

If he wasn’t sending flowers, he was calling. Or having food delivered—he knew she wouldn’t make herself breakfast, so he had Josito run over with hot plates of bacon, eggs and homemade biscuits every morning. And she found out the first day that if she didn’t eat them, he’d simply keep sending the poor little man back with more until she did. For Josito’s sake, she cleared the plate.

But she wouldn’t talk to him, despite the fact that he phoned six times a day, at regular intervals. She was afraid to talk to him, she admitted to herself. John could bulldoze a brick wall, he was so persuasive, but this was one decision she had to make on her own. She needed to think, and she couldn’t do that with John around. For once in his life John Durango was going to learn that he couldn’t always get his way through sheer force of will.

She went to the grocery store Friday afternoon, as was her habit, parking in her usual spot. But she’d no sooner gotten out of the car than she was aware of being watched.

She stopped in front of a bake-sale table outside the store entrance as John Durango came striding up on the sidewalk, wearing a blue pin-striped suit, his familiar white Stetson and a furious black scowl.

“Why in hell won’t you talk to me?” he growled. “Don’t you like the damned roses?”

“I have to like them,” she countered angrily, “they’ve covered up two rooms. I’m using them to stuff pillows, to flavor soups, to decorate cakes…. I’m even bathing in the damned things!”

“I thought you liked roses.”

“I do, but I didn’t want to be buried in them!” she wailed. “I’ve long ago run out of vases. All my cooking pots are now full of roses—I’ll starve!”

He brightened. “I’ll have Josito bring over lunch and supper, too.”

“No!” she burst out, aware of the curious, amused looks they were getting from the three bake-sale ladies. “Breakfast is enough, thank you. I can manage the rest. You know I hate breakfast,” she added accusingly.

“You’ve been ill,” he replied stubbornly, his lower lip jutting out. “You need to get your strength back.” He grinned. “If you’d marry me, I could fatten you up. I could spoon-feed you your meals.”

“I am not, repeat
not
, going to marry you!” she burst out in exasperation. “Please, John. Just go away!”

“Not until you say yes,” he replied. He stuck his hands in his pockets. “I’ve got all day free. I’ll just tag along with you.”

“In that case, you’re going to get pretty hungry, aren’t you?” she asked, her lips pursing thoughtfully.

He shrugged. “I’ll get a bite to eat somewhere along the way.”

“Oh, allow me to take care of that little problem for you.” She turned, studying the array of foodstuffs. “Lemon meringue,” she said to John, picking up a pie. “Your favorite, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “As a matter of fact, it is.”

Holding the pie in one hand, she dug out a five dollar bill and handed it to one of the ladies at the table with a nice smile.

“Here, darling,” she told John, batting her eyelashes at him. “Enjoy it.”

And she reached up and smashed it in the middle of his face.

***

She’d thought the pie would discourage him. But the next morning when she went out to jog down the street, hoping it would get her started after a sleepless night, the sound of a car caught her ear.

She moved over to the side of the road to let it pass, idly wondering why anyone sane would be up at this ungodly hour—besides crazy pregnant women who couldn’t seem to sit still, that was. But when several seconds went by and the car still didn’t pass, she looked over her shoulder.

There, behind her, keeping pace with her graceful movements, was the white Rolls, Josito at the wheel and John leaning out the open back window, grinning at her through his neatly trimmed black mustache.

Chapter Ten

“G
ood morning,” John said.

“Good morning,” she returned curtly, ignoring him as she continued to jog. She counted her steps: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven…