City Girl (15 page)

Tears sprang to Crystal's eyes. She ducked her head, biting at the full bottom lip of her mouth.

He kicked at the dirt, flinging his arms in the air.

"Now, what is all that about?" he demanded roughly.

She shook her head and avoided his scathing eyes.

"Are you going to go around bawling every time somebody raises his voice at you?" He turned this way and that, puffing out great gusts of hot air.

"It's just the way you order me around," she shot at him. "What are you trying to be, the great all-time father figure? Well, I don't need one!"

"Father?" he growled through clenched teeth. "Is that what you really think?"

He covered the distance between them in an instant, and again she felt the powerful arms encircle her, draw her near, and hold her captive as his lips descended upon hers. She felt the arching of his back as he bent to her, his mouth manipulating hers expertly, cruelly, working its magic upon her senses.

The pounding of her heart drummed out all thoughts as her body melted against him, identifying the hard contours of his body that had excited her earlier.

It was too much, too much assault for one morning. She was fatigued with the struggle to continually resist him, too confused by the conflicting emotions and his suddenly fluctuating moods to sort it all out. Her arms stole up to wrap themselves about his neck, to become party to this new onslaught of sensuousness, to pull him to her and admit that she had not the strength or desire to fight both his passion and her own.

She knew instinctively that he could teach her, bring her to the full realization of joy. The urgent caresses of his hands told her that he knew it all, all the dark, nameless mysteries to be shared by one man and one woman in that most intimate, private moment of giving. His mouth created a tidal wave in her that she would have gratefully drowned in, had he not pulled his mouth from hers and clasped his arms tightly about her, holding her almost protectively against his chest.

"Perhaps, little girl, you do need a father." He released her then and finished huskily, "To protect you from idiots like me who would make love to you on the side of the road!"

How she ever managed to get them home without killing somebody, she would never know. Too frightened, too stunned, too fraught with emotion, she had not argued with Garrett when he had again ordered her behind the wheel of his car. Now, as they chugged the last mile home, her mind was on, of all people, Jerry Chessman instead of her driving.

How could she have imagined herself in love with him? It was ludicrous, but it had never seemed more so than now. She had had no idea how little his kisses and petulant, insistent lovemaking had affected her. Not until Garrett had kissed her had she imagined that there was something mystical and overpowering that could exist between a man and a woman. Poor Jerry! How ignorant they had both been. She could not even remember the feel of him, the closeness, the embrace of his arms, his mouth on hers.

Because of
him
she had run away from Dallas? How stupid she had been, how incredibly naive. To think that she had given up a good, promising position, and all of her friends, the city that was her home… And for what good reason? Simple pride.

She had run away, only to be driven into the arms of the one man whose feelings for her she could never trust, only to be awakened to real desire in a situation that was even more hopeless than the one from which she had run. If it had not hurt so badly, if it had not seemed so bleak, it would have been laughable.

She knew that she had to stay away from Garrett. She could not handle a repeat of today's intimacy, another devastating experience within the rippling muscles of his arms. Nothing could change her reactions to his lovemaking. She knew it, and her only hope was to stay clear of him, away from the danger of his masculine presence. She vowed silently to do just that.

Luckily, there was plenty to occupy Crystal's mind for the remainder of the day. As soon as the expensive sports car was safely parked in the garage, Garrett informed her in a businesslike manner that she should get busy turning the library into a classroom. He mentioned something about more driving lessons later, excused himself, and hurried away rather abruptly, leaving her to manage the packages of things he had bought for her.

Crystal took the boxes and bundles to her room, washed her face, and went straight to the study. She found it eminently suitable for the program she had in mind. With Petie's help she rearranged the furniture to accommodate the table, chairs, and blackboard she would need to conduct her classes. She spent some time arranging the table so it would be in the best possible light, then went about organizing her books and pads and pencils upon her desk.

Lupe brought her a sandwich for lunch, which she munched absentmindedly, and Petie went away to see to the construction of the slate blackboard Garrett had ordered earlier.

The classroom took shape. Crystal stepped back to judge it. It was highly unconventional but quite workable.

Late in the afternoon she had accomplished all she could for the time being, and was surprisingly untired. She thought longingly of a cup of Lupe's strong black coffee, and headed for the kitchen, choosing the shorter path of cutting through the living room and the inner courtyard.

Rick Benson reclined on one of the small divans, booted feet crossed at the ankles, hat pushed forward over his eyes, hands folded leisurely against his chest. As Crystal approached, she noticed that for once he was clean. The jeans he now wore were stiff and spotless, as was the white shirt that fit snugly to his body, sleeves rolled up to expose the bleached hairs on his arms.

"Hello, Miss Gentry," he called, pushing the hat back to its proper place upon his cinnamon head and coming lithely to his feet.

"Hello," she returned cautiously, noting with surprise that he was a fine-looking man, a bit more boyish than Garrett, true, but handsome nonetheless.

Smiling, he fell into step beside her. "Has the boss been showing you around the place?" he asked.

"No, he hasn't. I've been getting things together to start my classes," she told him.

"You finished for the day?"

"I guess so. Why?"

"Well, I thought you might like to come riding with me."

Crystal slanted a look at him and was struck by the impishness of his grin.

"I don't think so, Mr. Benson. Thanks just the same."

"Ever been riding?"

"No."

"Then why not let me teach you?"

"I'm afraid not. Thank you anyway." She reached for the glass door to the kitchen, and he put up a finely boned but callused hand to halt her.

"Mr. Benson, would you please…" she started sternly, and he promptly removed his hand, sweeping his hat off his head in the same motion.

"Now, wait a minute, ma'am," he implored, kneading the brim of his hat in nervous hands. "You've got me all wrong. I know I'm a flirt, but I don't mean any harm. And I'm just trying to be friendly. Now, I won't say that I don't think you're pretty, or that I don't like you, but I've got nothing in mind but a horseback ride."

Crystal studied the boyish face. There was a certain charm, a certain openness about it.

"I don't know…" She faltered, thinking that Garrett might not approve.

"Wouldn't you like to look around the place? Maybe go over and meet the Hardestys? It's their kids you'll be teaching, you know."

"Well, yes, yes, I would, but…"

"Look at it this way, ma'am. What else are you going to do if you don't go with me?"

Crystal's mind flew at once to Garrett, and she knew that she would not be able to keep him out of her mind if she did not keep busy. She looked again at Rick Benson, shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot.

"Okay. I guess it would be all right."

A slow, easy smile spread across the lean, tanned face.

"I'll wait right here while you change," he said enthusiastically. "Be sure to wear something tight-fitting to cushion your muscles from the bumps you're gonna take at first, and boots to protect your ankles from being rubbed raw by the stirrups. Oh, and you ought to pull your hair back to keep it from getting caught in any tree branches or whatever." Forefinger beside nose, he added thoughtfully, "I don't suppose you have a hat, do you?"

"It just happens that I do." Crystal laughed, not bothering to explain how she came by it.

"Then maybe you ought to wear it, too," he advised, peering at the afternoon sun. "There isn't much daylight left, but the sun can be pretty wicked if you aren't used to it."

"Understood," she said. "I won't be but a minute."

She hurried to her room, where the packages from their shopping trip lay dumped upon the bed. She tore into them, grabbing the first pair of jeans and the first shirt she saw, ripping the tags from them as she went.

She stripped and changed quickly. The new jeans were stiff and tight, just what the cowboy ordered. It took her a little while to find socks to wear beneath her boots, but she finally came up with a pair. Quickly she brushed her hair into a low ponytail at the nape of her slender neck, grabbed the new straw cowboy hat from its box, and strode through the door purposefully.

Rick came to attention as she entered the inner courtyard, pursed his lips to let loose a whistle, then thought better of it and nodded appreciatively.

The horse Rick had chosen for her was a big lumbering sorrel mare with a sweet disposition and a penchant for sugar cubes, hence her name, Sweet Momma. Crystal looked up at her and swallowed. She was certainly a big animal. Crystal felt terribly small beside her, but Rick had assured her that the horse was as gentle as a lamb.

"Always mount on the horse's left side," he advised. "That's the way they are trained."

Gathering the reins in one hand and grabbing the saddle horn with the other, he fitted his left foot into the stirrup, pulled himself up, and swung his right leg over the horse's back. Having demonstrated the procedure, he dismounted and came to stand beside her.

"Now, you try."

Immediately Crystal ran into difficulty. Sweet Momma was a big horse, and Crystal was a small woman. The stirrup dangled several inches higher above the ground than she could raise her foot. Rick had to assist her by cupping his hands and bending low to serve as a footstool, boosting her high enough to get her foot into the stirrup. She made it on the first try.

Rick took the reins from her and led the horse from the corral surrounding the stables. His own horse waited patiently outside the corral fence, its reins tethered to a fence pole. He mounted and proceeded to give Crystal basic instructions in how to handle the animal.

"Lay the right rein against her neck and tug easily to make her turn to the left. Opposite for a right-hand turn. To make her stop, just pull back on the reins, keeping your hands low, never higher than your belt."

Crystal tried the various maneuvers and found them astonishingly easy to accomplish with the docile mare. Rick was pleased with her progress and quickly stepped up the instruction.

Before long he had her cantering easily in the open field opposite the stables. She was more relaxed and rode comfortably, following his example by hugging the horse with her thighs and rolling along with the horse's stride. Soon Rick was praising her, and she did feel that the whole thing felt rather natural, even though she confessed to a slight fear of the animals themselves.