Long, Tall Texans: Calhoun (7 page)

Justin took her to a small, intimate dinner club where they met the Joneses, Clara and Henry. They owned a small ranch in Montana where they raised stocker calves to supply to feedlots. They were an older couple but full of fun, and Abby liked them instantly. She and Clara talked fashion while Justin and Henry talked business. Abby was really having a good time until she glanced across the room and saw a familiar face on the cozily intimate dance floor.

Calhoun! Her eyes widened as she followed his blond head through the crowd until there was a clear space.

Then she saw the ravishing blonde with him. He was holding the woman, who was at least his own age, with both hands at her waist, and she was curled up against him as if they'd been dancing together for years. They were smiling at each other like lovers.

Abby felt sick. She could almost feel herself turning green. If Calhoun had worked at it for years, he couldn't have hurt her any worse. Coming on the heels of the insulting remark he'd made just a few hours earlier, it was a death blow. This was his kind of woman, Abby realized. Sleek, beautiful, sophisticated.

This was one of his shadowy lovers. One of the women he never brought home.

"What's wrong, Abby?' Justin asked suddenly. But before she could answer he followed her gaze to the dance floor, and something in his dark eyes became frightening, dangerous.

'Isn't that Calhoun?" Henry Jones grinned. "Well, well, let's get him over here, Justin, and see what he thinks of our proposition." Before anyone could stop him, he got up and headed for the dance floor.

"Mrs. Jones, shall we go to the powder room?" Abby asked with a pale but convincing smile.

"Certainly, dear. Excuse us, won't you, Justin?" the white-haired woman asked politely, and started out of the restaurant ahead of Abby.

Justin unexpectedly caught Abby's upper arm and drew her I tack. "Don't panic," he said quietly. "I'll get you out of here as soon as I can. Do you want a drink?"

She looked up, almost in tears at his unexpected understanding. "Could I have a pina colada with just a little rum?" she eked.

"I'll order it. Keep your chin up."

She smiled at him softly. "Thanks, big brother," she said gently.

He grinned. "Any time. Get going."

She glanced away in time to catch Calhoun's dark eyes. She nodded her head at him and turned away with no apparent haste.

Ten minutes later, she and Mrs. Jones returned to find Calhoun about to leave the table, the blonde still clinging to his arm. He looked up at Abby. His face was unreadable, but there was something in his expression that disturbed her. She wasn't about to let it show, though. Lovesick calf, indeed. She'd show him, by gosh.

She smiled. "Hi, Calhoun!" she said easily, sliding into the chair next to Justin's. "Isn't this a nice place?

Justin decided I needed a night on the town. Wasn't that sweet of him?" She picked up her pina colada and took a big sip, relieved to find that it had barely enough rum to taste and even more relieved that her hand didn't shake and betray her shattered nerves.

"She's a big girl now," Justin told his brother, leaning back in his chair arrogantly and daring Calhoun to say a word. His cool smile and level, cold stare had a real impact, even on his toother.

But Calhoun didn't look any too pleased at the implication of the remark, especially when Justin slid an arm around Abby's shoulders. In fact, Calhoun seemed almost ready to leap forward and shake his brother loose from Abby.

"I'm tired," the blonde sighed, nuzzling her face against Calhoun's arm. "I need some sleep. Eventually,"

she teased gently, with a meaningful look at Calhoun's rigid expression. Abby lifted her chin, looking straight at him. "Enjoy yourself, big brother," she said with forced gaiety. She even managed a smile. Thank God for Justin. She lifted her glass, took a sip of her drink and winked at the blonde, who smiled at her, obviously thinking Abby was a relative and no threat even if she wasn't.

Calhoun was trying to find his voice. The sight of Abby with his brother was killing him. He hadn't even considered that possibility. And while Justin might not be a playboy, he was a mature, very masculine man, and he had, after all, attracted a beauty like Shelby Jacobs.

Calhoun hadn't meant to ask the blonde out. She was a last-ditch stand against what he was feeling for Abby, and a very platonic one at that. He didn't even want her physically; she was just someone to talk to and be with who didn't threaten his emotions. But he'd never thought Abby might see him with her. It cut him to the bone, embarrassed him. Did Abby care? Try as he might, he couldn't find the slightest hint of jealousy in her face. She was wearing more makeup than usual, and that dress suited her. She looked lovely.

Had Justin noticed?

"I said, I'd really like to go home, Cal," the blonde drawled, laughing. "Can we, please? I've had a long day.

I'm a model," she added. "And we had a showing this afternoon. My feet are killing me, however unromantic that sounds."

"Of course," Calhoun said quietly. He took her arm. "I'll see you later," he told Justin.

"Sure you will," Justin mused, his tone amused and unbelieving, and he smiled at the blonde, who actually blushed.

Calhoun noticed then how Abby reacted to the remark. She lowered her eyes, but her slender hand was shaking as it held the pina colada. He felt murderous. He wanted to pick her up and carry her out of here, out of Justin's reach.

But Justin had his arm around Abby, and he tightened it. "We may be late," Justin told his brother. "So don't wait up if you beat us home. I thought I might take Abby dancing," he added with narrowed eyes and the arrogant smile Calhoun hated.

"Yes, I'd like that," Abby told him, smiling.

Calhoun felt his throat contracting. He managed a smile, too, but not a normal one. "Good night, then," he said tautly. He

hardly heard what the others said as he escorted the blonde out of the restaurant

"It's all right," Justin told Abby, his voice quiet. "They've gone."

She looked up, her eyes full of tears. "You know, don't you?"

"How you feel, you mean?" he asked gently. He nodded. "Just don't let him see it, honey. He's still got a wild streak, and he'll fight it like hell even if he feels what you do. Give him time. Don't hem him in."

"You know a lot about men," she said, sniffing into the tissue she took from her purse.

"Well, I am one," he replied. "Dry your eyes, now, and we'll take the long way home. That ought to give him hell. He hated the very idea of your being out with me."

"Really?"

He smiled at her expression. "Really. Chin up, girl. You're young. You've got time."

"What do I do in the meantime? He's driving me crazy."

"You might consider looking for that apartment," he said. "I hate to see you move out, but it may be the only answer eventually."

"I'd already decided that." She wiped her eyes. "But he hates the idea of my rooming with Misty."

"So do I," he remarked honestly. "Did you know that she made a pass at Calhoun and he turned her down?"

"Can't I trust anybody?" she moaned. "Aren't there any women who don't like him?"

"A few, here and there," he mused, his dark eyes twinkling. "I think you might do better to find a room in somebody's house. But that's your decision," he added quietly. "I'm not going to tell you what to do. You're old enough to decide alone."

"Thanks, Justin," she said gently. She smiled. "You'll make some lucky girl a nice husband one day."

His expression hardened, and the humor went out of his dark eyes. "That's a mistake I won't make," he said.

"I've had my fill of involvement"

"You never asked about Shelby's side of it," Abby reminded him. "You wouldn't even listen, Calhoun said."

"She said it all when she gave me back the ring. And I don't want to discuss it, Abby," he cautioned, his eyes flashing warning signals as he rose. "I talk to no one about Shelby. Not even you."

She backed down. "Okay," she said gently. "I won't pry."

"Let's go," he said, reaching for the check. "We'll take two hours getting home, and I hope Calhoun has kittens when we get there."

"I doubt he'll notice," Abby said miserably. "She was very pretty."

"Looks don't count in the long run," he replied. He looked at Abby. "Odd, isn't it, how embarrassed he was when you saw him with her?"

She turned away. "I'm tired. But it was a lovely dinner. Thank you."

He lifted an eyebrow. "Don't thank me. I had a good time. It beats watching movies at home, anyway." He chuckled gently.

Abby wanted to ask him why he never dated anyone and whether he was still carrying a torch for Shelby Jacobs after six years. Calhoun had said he was, but Justin was a clam when it came to his private life. And Abby wasn't about to pry any further. She wasn't that brave, not even with a pina colada inside her.

Abby was miserable by the time they got home. She'd done nothing but think of Calhoun and the model.

Justin had been kind, talking as if she were really listening to him. But she was reliving those few tempestuous minutes in Calhoun's Jaguar, when he'd come so close to kissing her and then had insulted her so terribly. She didn't understand his hot-and-cold attitude or his irritability. She didn't understand anything anymore.

Justin parked his elegant black Thunderbird in the garage, and Abby was surprised to find Calhoun's Jaguar already there.

"Well, well, look who's home," Justin murmured, glancing at Abby. "I guess he felt like an early night."

"Maybe he was exhausted," Abby said coldly.

Justin didn't comment, but he seemed highly amused and smug about something.

Calhoun was in the living room with the brandy bottle when they got home. He was down to his white shirtsleeves, which he'd rolled up to his elbows. His shirt was almost completely open in front, and Abby had to bite her lip to keep from staring helplessly at the broad expanse of his muscular chest. He was the most sensuous man she'd ever known, so powerful and tall and huge. Just the sight of him made her body tingle.

"So you finally brought her home," Calhoun shot at his brother. "Do you know what time it is?"

"Sure," Justin said imperturbably. "It's two o'clock in the morning."

"What were you doing?"

Justin cocked an eyebrow. "Oh, riding around. And things. Night, Abby,'' he said, and winked at her before he turned and went up the staircase.

Abby felt as if she'd been poleaxed. Now why had Justin said that? It had made Calhoun look frankly murderous. She cleared her throat.

"I think I'll go up, too." She started to turn, only to have her arm caught in a viselike grip by huge warm fingers and be pulled into the living room.

Calhoun slammed the door behind her, his chest heaving with rough breaths. His dark eyes were really black now, glittering, dangerous, and his sensuous mouth was a thin, grim line.

"Where were you?" he demanded. "And doing what? Justin's thirty-seven, and he's no boy."

She stared at him blankly. The sudden attack had knocked the wind out of her for a minute, but then her temper came to the rescue.

"That blonde you were out with was no schoolgirl, either," she replied as calmly as she could, even though her knees were shaking under her. She leaned back against the door for support.

His heavy brows drew together. "My private life is none of your business," he said defensively.

"Of course not," she agreed. "You've already said that you didn't want me hanging around you like a lovesick calf, and I'm doing my best not to," she added, although it hurt terribly to try to make light of that hurtful remark.

His heavy shoulders made a jerky movement as he looked at her and away again, as if her answer made him uncomfortable. "Justin's too old for you."

"Bullfeathers," she replied, lifting her chin. "You've objected to every other man I've ever gone out with, but you

can't object to your own brother. Justin would never hurt me, and you know it."

He did know it, but that didn't help. He was dying at the thought of Abby and Justin together.

"Oh, for God's sake!" he burst out, lost for words.

She took a steadying breath, though her heart was still doing a tango in her chest. "Why should it matter to you what I do?" she challenged him. "And you're a fine one to sit in judgment on other people! My gosh, Calhoun, everybody in the world knows what a playboy you are!"

He glared at her, trying to keep his temper. "I'm not a playboy," he said tersely. "I may date women occasionally—"

"Every night," she returned. Even though she knew her assertion wasn't completely true, she was too angry to split hairs. "Not that I mind," she added with a cold smile. "I don't care who you go out with, as long as you stop poking your nose into my business. I'll date whom I please, Calhoun, and if you don't like it, you know what you can do!"

He started to tell her what she could do, but before he could get the words out she'd jerked the door open and gone out and up the staircase.

"If you stay out until two o'clock in the morning again, with or without Justin, I'll take a tree limb to you!"

Calhoun yelled up the stairs.

Abby made a sound that almost drove him crazy. He muttered something obscene and went back into the living room, slamming the door so hard it shook the room.

Damn women! He could have screamed at the effect she was having on him lately. She was ruining his love life, ruining his business life. All he did was think about her damned pretty breasts....

Abby cried herself to sleep. It had been a rotten evening altogether, and every time she thought of Calhoun kissing that model she got sicker. She hated him. She hated every bone in his body, and she most especially hated his possessiveness. She had to find an apartment. She had to get away. After tonight it was going to be just plain horrible trying to stay in the same house with Calhoun until her birthday.

The next morning she slept late. She usually got up and went to church, but this time she played hooky. She didn't want to risk running into Calhoun.