To Love and Cherish (12 page)

“King!” she whispered, freezing in front of him.

S
he stood like a doe in the hunter's sights, ready to spring away, her eyes wide and frightened as they met the dark determination in his.

“I want to talk to you,” he said gruffly, leaning forward in the chair.

Her mouth opened, closed. I hate you, she wanted to tell him, but the words wouldn't come.

“Isn't she a dream?” the an
nouncer's voice boomed out. “In that outfit, she looks ready for some rugged cowboy to swing her up and carry her off into the sunset, doesn't she?”

“Which isn't a hell of a bad idea,” King said with narrowed eyes. He stood up, towering over her, and abruptly handed her his hat. “Here, hold this,” he said.

She took it without thinking. He bent suddenly and swung her up in his hard arms, ignoring her surprised exclamation and looks from the audience. The announcer loved it, exclaiming as King carried her, struggling, out the door, “see what I mean?”

“King, you can't do this!” she protested as he carried her through the crowded streets, attracting attention like a magnet as he walked toward a nearby parking lot.

“I'm doing it,” he replied coolly.

“Put me down!” she cried, twist
ing in his steely grasp. “People are staring at us, King!”

“Let them stare.”

She hit his broad chest with her fist. “I hate you,” she wept piteously. “I hate you!”

He blinked, and a shadow passed over his face, but he didn't relent. “I know that,” he replied quietly.

“If you don't put me down, I'm going to scream,” she threatened.

He didn't break stride, or look at her. “Go ahead.”

She looked around at the amused faces and decided that screaming probably wouldn't accomplish anything except to make those grins wider. She held herself stiffly until he reached the car and swung her down beside it.

He unlocked the door and put her in the small black sports car, going quickly around to get in beside her. She handed him his Stetson jerkily as
her eyes rested on a newspaper folded to the society page. A picture of her was in a prominent place with a blaring headline under it—Model to Wed Heir to Brannt Fortune—Shelby Kane Will Become Bride of King Brannt in September.

“Now you know why I'm here,” King said gruffly.

She stared at the newspaper with eyes blurred by sudden tears. So Danny had gone this far playing Cupid—announcing an engagement that hadn't happened to see what effect that would have on his older brother. And now King was going to blame Shelby for it, and she didn't think she could bear his temper again.

With a sob, she jerked open the door and was out of the car before King could catch her. She ran blindly out of the parking lot toward the street, and stepped off the curb just in
time to be right in the path of a barrelling semi.

“Shelby!” She thought she'd never heard that particular note in a human voice before. It didn't even sound like King. But when she felt the lean, whipcord arms go around her, dragging her out of the path of the truck, she knew who they belonged to.

He crushed her body against his, and he was shaking like a leaf. King, shaking!

“Oh, my God, another second…!” he ground out at her ear. His arms tightened painfully. “You damned little fool!”

She bit her lip on a sob and closed her eyes. “Why did you pull me back?” she whispered brokenly. “It would have been better…”

“No!” he whispered huskily. “No, don't ever say that! Not ever, Shelby!” He drew back and looked down at her wet face. His own was
ashen. He looked like a man who'd seen death face to face. His hand reached out to brush the hair away from her cheek. “I always manage to say the wrong thing to you,” he said tightly. “Or do the wrong thing. I should have left well enough alone.”

She chewed on her lower lip, brushing at a stray tear. “Why did you…but I know why, don't I?” she wept.

He drew in a short breath. “There's a café by the river,” he said solemnly. “Let's have a cup of coffee before I take you back.”

She let him lead her to the sidewalk café and seat her at a small round table within easy steps of the river that ran through San Antonio. It was like being out in the country in the middle of town, and somewhere nearby was the sound of Mexican music.

She sipped her coffee in silence, not daring to look up. It hurt all the
way to her soul, having to be with King these precious last minutes before she lost him forever. And she still hadn't explained that she didn't put the wedding announcement in the paper. If he'd even believe her.

“Are you all right?” he asked tightly.

She nodded. “Just a little shaken,” she admitted, darting a glance at him. “Have you seen Danny lately?”

“This morning,” he replied. His lean fingers circled the coffee cup. “He told me where you were.”

“Oh.” She sipped the strong black coffee. “I…I didn't do it,” she whispered. “I know you won't believe me, but I didn't do it, King.”

He stared at her blankly, and she wondered if he'd even heard her. His eyes were almost black, and there were new lines carved into his hard face.

“What's wrong?” she asked gently.

His eyebrow jerked, but he wouldn't answer her. “Finish your coffee,” he said coolly. “I've got to get home.”

She dropped her eyes. “Why did you bother to come?” she whispered.

“God knows,” he growled. “It was insanity.”

“Danny meant well,” she murmured.

“So he told me.” He finished the coffee in a swallow. “I may break his neck yet.”

“They can always print a retraction,” she said softly, looking up into his dark eyes.

His jaw went taut. “So they can.”

“Did…did Janice see it?” she asked hesitantly.

“How the hell should I know?” he asked hotly. “I haven't seen her for weeks.”

“But….”

“But, what?” he growled.

“Nothing.”

“Have you eaten anything this week?” he asked angrily, his dark eyes tracing the thin lines of her body.

“Models have to be slender,” she muttered.

“Not skeletal,” he argued. “My God, Shelby, you look like a walking corpse!”

Her full lower lip pouted. “What do you care?” she asked thinly. “How I live my life is none of your business!”

His jaw worked jerkily. “Yes, you've just given me proof of that,” he replied huskily. “You'd jump in front of a damned truck to keep me out of it, wouldn't you, baby?”

She stared at him blankly. “What do you mean?”

“It's a little late for soul-searching.” He stood up with the
check. “Do you want anything else before we go?” he asked.

She shook her head. Her eyes followed him to the inside counter where he paid the bill. If only things had worked out differently, she thought with a wistful smile. Even if he hadn't loved her, what she felt for him would have made up for it. And after she'd given him a son…

A son. King would love that, having an heir for Skylance. A little boy with black hair and dark brown eyes, and she could give him all the love King didn't want.

He came striding back toward her, his step quick and sharp, impatient.

“Ready?” he asked curtly.

She nodded, rising. He took her hand to help her out of the chair and she trembled at just the touch of it.

He jerked her chin up, catching the helpless attraction that she couldn't hide as it glowed from her dark eyes.

He scowled at her. “You might have given it a chance, Shelby,” he said quietly. “At least you don't find me repulsive. That's a start.”

“I don't understand,” she whispered. “Given what a chance, King?”

The scowl got worse. His eyes narrowed, glittering down at her. “I think it might help if you tell me why you bolted out of the car like that.”

“Why, because of the story in the paper,” she told him quietly. “Because I knew you thought I did it, and I was afraid I couldn't convince you that I didn't. You see, Danny…”

“You thought
what
?” he burst out.

She backed away from the dangerous look in his eyes. “That you'd blame me,” she repeated, wide-eyed.

All the hard lines left his face suddenly, and he looked down at her with blank astonishment in the place of anger.

“My God, Shelby,” he said
harshly, “you'd rather run under a truck than face my temper? My God!”

She couldn't understand the anguish in his deep voice. He turned away from her and rammed his hands in his pockets.

“I didn't realize how hard I'd been on you until now,” he said in a strange, deep tone. “I didn't realize I affected you to that extent.”

“It's all right,” she said softly. “I…I can understand how you felt.”

“No, you can't,” he said with a mirthless laugh. “You can't imagine.” He whirled on his heel and studied her quietly, his eyes unreadable. “I've left my mark on you, haven't I?” he asked with smooth self-contempt. “You look like a walking skeleton, your eyes are red, and where there once was a carefree girl, now there's a tired old woman. God, I'm good for you!” he growled harshly.
He turned and started toward the car. “Come on. I'm going to put you back where I found you before I get you killed trying to run from me.”

She followed him like a sleepwalker, still puzzled about the way he was behaving. Something seemed to be eating him alive, but she didn't know what.

She sat beside him in a daze as he headed back toward the downtown area.

“No, don't take me back to the show,” she asked softly. “I couldn't bear it. My apartment's on the next street to the right, if you don't mind going out of your way…”

“I don't mind.”

She didn't say another word until he pulled into the one vacant parking space outside the apartment building where she lived. She sat there, not knowing what to say, or how to say
it, knowing this was the last time she'd ever see him….

“We've already said it all,” he told her with inhuman calm. “Goodbye, Shelby.”

She nodded. Her eyes searched his in a breathtaking silence while she tried to memorize every line of his face. Tears blurred him in her vision; tears that were hot and painful and unmistakable.

He scowled suddenly. “Shelby…?” he whispered, reaching out to brush a tear from her cheek.

She caught his fingers and held them against the softness of her cheek involuntarily. She could hear her pride shattering around her as she searched his eyes one last time.

“Kiss me goodbye,” she pleaded in a broken whisper. “Please!”

In slow motion, she felt his lean, strong hands cupping her face,
watched his eyes widen with disbelief and darken with certainty.

He bent, touching his hard mouth to hers with a tenderness that brought the hot tears swimming in her eyes, a soft pressure that ached with promise.

“Not like that,” she whispered at his lips.

His hands tightened on her face. “How do you want it, then?” he asked huskily.

“Like this, King,” she replied, reaching up to lock her arms around his neck, to draw his mouth down in the sudden trembling silence of the car.

She eased over the console with her lips clinging tenderly to his and slid onto his lap, feeling his arms come around her with a sense of wonder.

“Sports cars weren't designed for this,” he whispered unsteadily as her mouth brushed temptingly across his.

“Weren't they?” she asked dizzily,
giving in to a wild impulse to feather kisses all over his hard face. She pressed closer against him, glorying in the effect she seemed to have on him.

His hands tightened painfully at her back, bruising her against his hard chest. His teeth nipped at her lower lip.

“What the hell are you doing?” he growled huskily.

“It's called making love, I think,” she murmured against his answering lips.

“You're starting something you may not be able to stop,” he warned softly.

“Promises, promises…”

He took her mouth roughly, his arms swallowing her, crushing her, as the devouring kiss went on and on until she thought she'd never breathe again, or want to.

“If you feel like this,” he whispered, his voice husky with emotion,
“then why the hell won't you marry me?”

She froze in his arms, looking up at him incredulously. “Marry you?”

He drew a steadying breath and smoothed her silky hair. “Shelby, I put the announcement in the paper. It was my way of telling you I wanted you for keeps. When you ran, I thought it was because you couldn't bear the thought of marrying me. Then, when I realized what was wrong, it froze me in my tracks.” He caressed her flushed face with lazy fingers. “If you were that afraid of me, I thought it would be better if we forgot the whole thing.”