City Girl (2 page)

She ignored their occasional tiffs because they were always about the same thing. He constantly pressed her to share his bed, and though she steadfastly refused, she mistakenly took his ardor for proof of his love. How foolish she had been! In spite of everything, she had truly believed that her virginity would mean something very precious to him on their wedding night. She wanted very much to offer it as proof of her love for him. All along, she had thought he understood and that his impatience was just a sign of his passion for her.

The thick dark lashes glistened with the tears that brimmed in her round green eyes as that awful parting scene played before them.

Suddenly she was back in her aunt's old-fashioned living room. Jerry stood before her, shoulders hunched, hands hanging limply at his sides. Her head swam dizzily, and her stomach knotted itself into a cold hard ball.

"I'm sorry," he was saying softly, "I didn't mean this to happen."

"You didn't mean to date another woman while you were engaged to me?" she shot back incredulously. "Or you didn't mean to fall in love with her? Which did you not mean, Jerry?"

His smile was small, pathetic, sorrowful, and for a moment Crystal actually felt compassion for him. Beneath all the hurt and humiliation, she knew that what he was doing was difficult and demanded a great deal of courage. She also knew that in a weird, ironic way, she was relieved that the engagement was broken, but her pride had suffered a tremendous blow, and it was asking a lot to expect her to be understanding about this.

"Listen, Crystal, I've always admired you, you know that. And I thought getting engaged was what we both wanted, but… well…" He ducked his head and gazed nervously at his feet. "You made it pretty plain that you didn't really
want
me. You've rebuffed my every advance, and frankly, Crystal, I can't help believing that if you really loved me you would have shown it."

"H-how can you say that?" she stammered, fighting tears, "I… I tried to explain that I wanted to wait until we were married. You… you even said that was all right. Now you're telling me that you won't marry me because I wouldn't sleep with you!"

Jerry blanched and gave his dark head an impatient shake. "I'm trying to tell you that I won't marry you because I don't believe you really love me."

"And she does?"

Jerry leveled frank, honest eyes at her. "Yes, I believe she does," he answered softly. "She's a bit more—what shall I say?—worldly than you, Crystal, and frankly, she's gone to great lengths to prove just how much she does love me."

The implications of that hit home rather solidly, its impact oddly steadying. Crystal lifted her chin imperiously.

"I see," she clipped, forcing an impassive blankness upon her face. "She proved her love in an acceptable manner, and I didn't. I didn't know it was a contest, Jerry, but had I, I wouldn't have competed."

He nodded his head as if he had understood that all along, and she went on, speaking more to herself than him.

"I'm not the sort of woman who will compete against another woman for love. I want to be loved for myself, not just for the availability of my body."

In spite of her fight for control, she choked up after that, and finding that there was nothing left to be said anyway, turned her back to him.

Jerry laid a hand lightly upon her shoulder, but when she flinched, he took it away.

"Someday, Crystal," he promised hollowly, "you'll find the man you can't resist. I just wasn't that man."

"No, I guess you weren't," she whispered, but inside she wondered why, if that were true, it hurt so badly to lose him to another woman.

They stood awkwardly for a moment, neither wanting to look at the other, neither finding anything of substance to say, until Jerry simply walked to the door and let himself out quietly.

He couldn't have chosen a more inopportune time in Crystal's life to break off their engagement. It had been almost more than she could bear at the time, with the pain of her aunt's recent death still so poignant, but somehow she muddled through. Now, with only three days left to graduation, she knew without a doubt that she was infinitely better off without him. Yet, the pain and humiliation were as sharp as ever.

She had known immediately what she must do. Within minutes after that shattering scene with Jerry, she had walked to the phone and called up the personnel director who had interviewed her for the position with the Dallas bilingual-education system. She had explained patiently but firmly that she would not take the job after all. How could she, knowing that Jerry had already accepted a position with them? And now, here she stood, waiting for the lawyer who was her only link with the safety and security of her past, about to sever this last tie as well.

Crystal had barely pulled herself out of her reverie when the door opened and Mr. Groman swept through on short, pudgy legs, followed by a much taller blond man whom Crystal did not know.

"Crystal!" Mr. Groman seemed surprised to see her. "Oh, I am sorry. I forgot all about you!" He glanced at the tall man leaning against the doorjamb. "Mr. Garrett Dean, allow me to introduce a very special client, Miss Crystal Gentry."

Mr. Dean came forward with athletic ease and offered a very large callused hand. Her own was dwarfed in it, and she marveled at it for sheer size. Her gaze traveled slowly up the long arm and came to rest upon his face.

It was a decidedly masculine face, square-jawed with sharply chiseled features, slightly jutting brow, and deeply set eyes of the most startling blue. His sun-bleached hair fell across a high, tanned forehead, providing sharp contrast with the dark lashes and brows that framed those vivid eyes.

"How do you do, Mr. Dean," she greeted brightly, and was puzzled by the silent nod and frankly appraising look she got in return.

Feeling a bit unnerved, Crystal removed her hand from his giant paw and turned her attention to Mr. Groman, who had left them to take his seat behind his desk.

"I can come back later," she offered, almost hoping that this meeting could be delayed, but the bald head was already shaking negatively.

"No, no. Just have a seat. I'll be through with Mr. Dean momentarily."

She crossed the floor reluctantly, feeling blue eyes upon her, and took a seat in the burgundy leather chair, her chair, crossing her diminutive feet primly at the ankles.

"I'm sorry to impinge upon your time, ma'am," the tall man drawled.

Crystal turned jerkily, surprised by the very deep, resonant voice, and nodded politely.

He had spoken quietly, yet his words seemed to rumble with a force held tightly in check, as if he could create enough volume to halt traffic swarming busily on the street fifteen stories below them.

He was a very big man, powerfully built, though slender and wiry. The snug fit of his tan doeskin western-cut suit attested to that. The contrasting top stitching across the shoulders accentuated their width exactly in the same manner as the cut of his slacks accentuated the corded muscles of his thighs and the wide silver buckle of his belt gave witness to his narrow waist and hard stomach. He cut a swashbuckling figure, complete with brown alligator cowboy boots and brushed suede Stetson, which he carried gingerly in one large-boned hand.

He was taller than Jerry, she mused; then winced inwardly, chastising herself for comparing every man with that cad. Yet, she had to admit that next to this man, Jerry would look like a schoolboy, and it was not just a matter of height and build. Garrett Dean wore an indefinable air of authority and assurance and… what? Sexuality?

She realized that the blue eyes were fixed upon her with something closely akin to amusement, and she swallowed a tiny bead of embarrassment, wondering if he could have possibly read her thoughts.

"Um, don't think a thing of it, Mr. Dean. I know how it is when you have pressing business matters," she belatedly answered his polite apology, then turned away quickly as he strode toward the desk, where Mr. Groman had laid out some papers for him to sign.

"If you will just pen your John Henry on these," Mr. Groman was saying, "the presentation will be ready, and I'll get them over to Longhorn Oil this afternoon."

Crystal felt most uncomfortable. She had no business being here while these two finished up their meeting, and besides, there was something unsettling about the way Mr. Dean looked at her, as if he were trying to decide something about her. She made as if to rise, mumbling that she would move out of their way, but he stopped her.

"No need," he rumbled, indicating with a nod of his sun-streaked head that she should stay where she was; and then, incredibly, he handed her his hat.

Crystal sat there, mouth slightly ajar, holding his hat as if it were the crown jewels, while he bent low over the desk and scrawled his name upon several important looking papers.

"I think that about does it," announced the lawyer with a satisfied smile. He bounced to his feet and grasped the big hand of his client.

They made a comical picture, the tiny lawyer and the big cowboy. Mr. Groman looked like a stuffed toy next to this lean, hard man, but if he was aware of it, his manner certainly did not indicate it.

"I'll call you tonight and let you know Longhorn's reaction to our offer," he said.

"Fine. You know where to reach me," the rich voice boomed; then he was turning to Crystal, flashing a dazzling white smile and reclaiming his hat with a flourishing bow. "Miss Gentry." He raised the hat in a parting salute and backed away. She watched silently as his long strides carried him to the door and through it until it closed against his broad back.

"My goodness!" she commented. "That certainly is a big man!"

"Oh, yes, indeed." Groman plopped down into his chair. "Very big man. Got a big spread down in central Texas, his own oil company, few thousand head of cattle, lot of political influence. Very big man indeed."

Crystal found all of this very interesting. So he fulfilled not only one of the great Texas legends, but two—oil man
and
rancher. Interesting, but not what she had meant to comment upon.

"I was talking about his size," she laughed, "not his holdings."

A vapor seemed to form upon the lenses of the lawyer's pale eyes. "Oh, yes, I suppose he is rather tall," he mused. "Guess that is one reason he won all those rodeos."

"Rodeos?" Crystal wondered if the vapor were not inside her own head. She did not know what he was talking about or how they had gotten on this subject. She had only commented upon the man's size for lack of anything else appropriate to say.

Mr. Groman leaned forward and wagged his stubby finger up and down. "And you call yourself a Texan," he admonished with a grin. "That, my dear, was
the
Garrett Dean."

"
The
Garrett Dean?"

"Four times champion rodeo cowboy. Didn't you notice the belt buckle?"

"Well, yes, but what's that got to do with it?" She wondered for a moment if he were putting her on. It would not be the first time.

"That's the championship buckle, girl. Oh, well, I suppose it was a little before your time. The last time he competed was about ten years ago, when he was about your age, I'd say. The man's a legend."

Well, chalk up another one
, she thought.
Oil man, rancher, and champion rodeo cowboy
. Was there anything else? Indian fighter reincarnated, perhaps?

"How many of these celebrities have you around here?" she asked with a wink.

"Oh, it does get interesting at times," he commented, widening his eyes, "very interesting indeed! But I haven't got a prettier client than you, my dear, not a one!"

Crystal acknowledged his compliment with a slight bow of her head and a warm smile. She knew he was being solicitous, especially so, but she did not mind.

"How are you, Crystal?" the lawyer asked, his expression suddenly becoming serious. "I've been worried about you."

"I'm okay." Crystal leaned forward, her face softened with affection and respect for this man. "I still miss her, of course, but life must go on, mustn't it?"

"Indeed it must," he agreed solemnly, and leaned back in his chair, knitting his fingers together over his rotund little tummy.

Crystal sensed an abrupt change in his mood, and this disturbed her, for she knew Hal Groman to be a steadfastly cheerful individual. Something heavy in the air told her to beware, that trouble was afoot here, but she tried to push the feeling away, thinking that it was her own nervousness.

"Mr. Groman," she began tentatively, "I've come about my aunt's will. I hate to be pushy, but I was wondering if we .could move things along a bit. Something, um, unforeseen has come up, and I really need to get my hands on some money. I wouldn't ask, but it's important."

She didn't like the expression on his face. He seemed, not surprised, but unhappy, regretful almost. She wondered if she had misjudged his reaction, if he thought it disrespectful of her to come here like this. Such a possibility made her cringe inwardly. The last thing she wanted was to lower herself in his estimation. She waited nervously for his reply, and he seemed to take forever in answering.

"Crystal, I…" He broke off with a sigh, the pink flesh of his forehead wrinkling with distaste.

She almost leaped out of her chair then and begged him to forget she had even mentioned it, but a wounded look hovered behind the horn-rimmed bifocals he wore, and intuition told her that something was going on here which she had not even begun to understand yet.

"Is something wrong?" she heard a small version of her own voice asking, and she was partly relieved to see the puckered little mouth widen in a reassuring but tense smile.

"I'm afraid so, my dear, but it needn't be a catastrophe," he affirmed softly.

Crystal's mouth was suddenly full of saliva, and she swallowed it down with a gulp. She had never seen him like this before, and it frightened her. ,

He went on. "You are young, you know, college-educated, intelligent, and so very pretty." He interjected a halfhearted note of gaiety here. "And you are going to be married soon. You even have a job waiting for you. I'd say things were looking pretty bright for you."