Denim and Lace (18 page)

Bess laughed softly. Her mother actually meant it. “But what do you know about job placement?”

“Lots,” Gussie replied. “One of Frank's best friends is in the business. I phoned him several days ago and he's going to let me buy into his agency. He's promised to teach me the ropes when we get back to San Antonio. To start out, I'm going to work with him. Later on I may open a new branch and operate it myself.”

“Mama!”

“Don't faint,” Gussie laughed. “It's really me. I just figured it was time I stopped being a liability and became an asset. When I get my first paycheck, I'll treat you to dinner.”

“Steak, of course,” Bess murmured.

Gussie glared at her. “A burrito at Del Taco,” she corrected. “I can't throw away money, I'm on a budget.”

“Oh, I love you,” Bess said with warmth.

Gussie could have cried when she saw the softness in her daughter's eyes, the love and respect. It would be worth anything not to have Bess mad at her anymore. She bent down to hug the younger woman.

“I love you, too, baby, even if I haven't said it very often or shown it very much.” She stood up, brushing away tears. “I'll get my own apartment as soon as we get back,” she added, “providing you're well enough to be left by yourself.”

“You can stay with me...” Bess offered hesitantly.

Gussie shook her head, smiling. “No. Now that we're both trying to be independent, it's best if we stick to our guns. We can visit without infringing on each other's freedom. Okay?”

Bess smiled. “Okay.”

“Now, I'd better get back to work before the others come home.” Gussie sighed. “Acres of dust around here, what with three grown men tracking dirt in and out. Honestly, you should see what Elise has to wash out of their jeans!”

Bess sat and listened to her, totally enchanted with this new person. At least this was one positive note in her life. It didn't make up for Cade, but it was nice all the same.

Robert was still her shadow. It was pleasant to have him to talk to, but she had a terrible feeling that it was more than friendship on his part. Even though she'd told him she had nothing to give, it made her feel guilty. And when Cade was home, it seemed to make him even colder when he saw his youngest brother in Bess's company. He didn't say anything or make sarcastic remarks. He simply withdrew into himself and became unapproachable. Somehow that was worse than shouting, because Bess sensed that she'd hurt him deeply.

It had been almost a month now since the accident, and Bess was up and around and feeling much better. She'd been working on her presentation for the new ad campaign in her room at night and on the front porch during the day, and it was almost done. Soon she'd be able to go back to work. She'd phoned the office every week to report her progress, and Jordan Ryker had called once or twice himself. He'd talked to Bess, but Cade had answered the phone. His dislike of Ryker and his fury at having him call Lariat were all too evident. Bess expected him to say something, but he never did. He simply ignored her afterward.

Bess was glad that she was making such progress, but Cade's coldness was beginning to affect her work and her sleep. She couldn't understand why he was so angry that she'd refused his proposal. He didn't love her. Was it pride or guilt that drove him? He asked Gussie or Elise about her progress, never her. She could have told him that she was feeling much better physically. Her abdomen was healing nicely, except for occasional twinges of discomfort. Looking at it, the scars weren't all that disfiguring. They were much less painful than the emotional ones of knowing that she could never bear a child.

Cade, meanwhile, was getting some scars of his own, and they were visible ones. He'd taken a bad toss in the bronc riding in New Mexico, and when he came home, he was limping again. The injury had aggravated the other tendon injury that had never had the chance to heal. Cade, being Cade, pushed himself until he dropped. But this time he'd added a few cuts and bruises to his face and arms, as well.

Cade had signed up for two rodeos while Bess and Gussie had been staying at Lariat. There was another one in San Antonio a few weeks down the road. He'd won good money so far on the circuit, but Bess was holding her breath now. She'd told Cade that she didn't care for him, but it was hard to watch him without letting her dark, soft eyes show what she was feeling. Since he'd been back from New Mexico, his attitude had grown even more distant than before. He wouldn't even look at her, especially if Robert was in the same room with them. He skipped meals, presumably to avoid her, and he looked gaunt and driven. Bess couldn't help worrying about him, or letting it show that she did. But Cade didn't notice her sad scrutiny.

The Friday before Bess was scheduled to go back to San Antonio to work, Elise took Gussie with her to a garden club meeting. With Robert in Kansas City for the day, Gary in town working with the bookkeeper on taxes and Cade out on the ranch, Bess was left alone in the house.

She was sitting on the porch swing, staring at her work without any particular interest, when she heard a horse riding up in the yard.

It was unusual for Cade to come home before dark. He looked perfectly at home in the saddle, his lean, elegant body in denim and chambray lazily echoing the motion of the bay under him, his Stetson at an arrogant slant across his dark, quiet face as he leaned over the pommel and stared at her.

She was wearing a colorful button-up tent sundress that didn't put too much pressure on her rapidly healing abdomen and she was barefoot. He found her scribbling new ideas on the big sketch pad beside her, her honey-brown hair loose around her shoulders, just washed and fragrant as it waved gently in the breeze.

Her heart raced as it always did when he was anywhere in sight. All her dreams were centered on him. Her soft, dark eyes roamed over him lovingly, caressing his face, his broad shoulders tapering to narrow hips and long, powerful legs in worn black boots.

“For a woman who doesn't want me, you have covetous eyes,” he remarked as he swung down out of the saddle and dropped the reins, leaving the horse to nibble at his mother's prize lilacs while he mounted the steps.

She colored, her perfect complexion exquisite with the faint blush on her cheeks. “Your horse is eating Elise's flowers,” she said softly, watching the horse devour a particularly pretty blue columbine.

He lifted an eyebrow. “They'll grow back,” he mused.

He picked up her sketch pad, sparing a glance at the neat artwork before he laid it on the glider and sat down beside her. He took off his hat and tossed it onto the sketch pad. His lean hand ran through his dark hair, pulling it back from his forehead. The breeze was pleasant, and patches of sunlight drifted onto the porch. Cade rocked the swing back into motion, one lean arm thrown carelessly behind Bess's shoulders.

“You're home early,” she remarked quietly.

“I got through early.” He turned, his dark eyes sliding over her face, down to the soft rise of her breasts under the thin fabric of her dress. “Where are Gussie and my mother?”

“Gone to a garden club meeting,” she said. “Gary's still in town with the tax man, I guess.”

“Estimated taxes are due,” Cade mused. “Just when I think we're ahead, we fall back a few thousand.” He looked down at her. “Has Robert called?”

“No. Isn't he coming back tonight?” she said falteringly.

His dark eyes narrowed. “Why? Can't you stand it without him even for a day?”

She took a deep breath and lowered her eyes to the wild pastel colors of her dress. “Don't, Cade,” she pleaded.

“Robert's in love,” he said. “If you can't see it, you're either blind or too stubborn to admit it. I tried to warn you.”

Her heart jumped. She knew it, but she didn't want to face it. “I'll be going back to San Antonio Monday,” she said.

“He'll follow you there, with flowers and music and probably a ring. He wants you!”

Her eyes closed. “Why do you care?” she cried, lifting her wounded eyes to his. “You don't want me anymore...oh!”

He reached for her, and his hard mouth covered hers without warning. All the rage that had built up in him for weeks overflowed. He was beyond sanity now, giving in to the hunger that had haunted him night and day. All he knew, wanted, needed and loved was in his arms.

“I go to bed aching at night and get up aching every morning,” he said, groaning against her mouth, “and you don't think I want you? My God... Bess!”

He turned her, pressed her up against his wildly beating heart, against the warmth of his mouth and the leather scent of his shirt. His tongue probed inside her mouth while his hand caught her nape and held it steady. He was trembling with the violence of his need, his mouth ravenous as it pressed deeper into hers, as his tongue penetrated rhythmically into the sweet darkness of her mouth.

She moaned and so did he as the fever caught them both, burning hot and wild. It had been so long since he'd touched her, so long since he'd kissed her. She shivered with the need to be even closer to him. She loved him so, would have died for him. Tears welled up behind her closed eyelids with the sheer joy of being close to him. His cold avoidance had hurt her so much. She'd thought he was through with her altogether, but as she felt the tremor in his hard arms, she relaxed into his body. He might not love her, but at least he still wanted her. If only she could have accepted his proposal. Oh, if only!

Her arms reached around his neck, her mouth yielded to the passionate fury of his. She didn't even protest when she felt his hand under her breast and his thumb probing the hard nipple.

The wind blew around them, the swing creaked as it moved. Cade lifted his head, his breath ragged, his lips faintly swollen and sensuous, poised above hers. His hand moved, and he watched her face as he caressed her, his thumb and forefinger gently kneading the hardness, and she gasped.

“A nipple this hard could make a man conceited,” he breathed roughly, his dark eyes holding her embarrassed ones. “And eyes like yours could make him drunk. Open your mouth. I want all of it.”

He bent over her hungrily, his parted lips biting at hers, teasing and tormenting her. Her teeth closed helplessly on his lower lip, trying to make him kiss her. Eventually he did, and she clung to him, not protesting the way he touched her, lost in the scent and feel of him, the warm strength of him against her. At her hip she could feel the sudden hardness of his body as it reacted to their feverish lovemaking, and she wasn't afraid of it. She loved him so much that the reactions and responses of his body were as natural and acceptable to her as her own.

His mouth slid down her chin to the soft pulse in her throat and farther, to the warmth of her breast. His mouth opened and pressed down hotly over the nipple. She'd never felt anything remotely like the pleasure that shot, white-hot, through her loins. She cried out and arched under him, her fingers trembling as they ran through his cool, dark hair, holding him against her while the pleasure went on and on and on...

He bit her and she jerked away, shocked. He lifted his head to look at her. His eyes were wild, and there was a reckless look in them that made her a little afraid.

“Do you like it?” he whispered roughly. “Or are you afraid of my teeth? I won't hurt your nipple.”

She'd never dreamed that men said such things to women. She knew her face was scarlet, but the words were oddly arousing. Her nails dug into his shoulder as he rubbed his lips sensually across hers in a travesty of a kiss.

His fingers worked at the buttons on the front of the dress, and she was in such a sensual haze that it was more relief than fear when he opened them and unfastened the clasp of her front-closing bra.

He pulled the lacy fabric away and looked down at the soft pink skin and hard mauve tips with pure masculine delight. His fingers brushed over their hardness very gently and then stroked their fullness while his eyes sought hers. “It's all very new to you, isn't it?” he asked, his expression stern and quiet and very adult. “I won't hurt you any more than I have to. Unbutton my shirt.”

She was in a fog or she might have realized what he meant and what he was planning. But she was dazed with pleasure and drowning in need. She tore the buttons away with trembling hands and then caught her breath at the pure sensual feast of his chest with its bronzed muscles and the black hair that curled over them.

Her fingers roved through the thick coolness of hair and caressed him hungrily. She felt her body tighten as he suddenly stood up with her in his arms, so that her breasts pressed against his bare skin.

She shuddered and clenched her teeth at the screaming pleasure it gave her, her nails digging into his shoulders as she buried her face against his throat. “Cade,” she moaned.

“Bite me,” he said hoarsely, and when he felt her teeth, he shivered. She was everything he'd ever dreamed she could be. It wasn't the ideal solution to the problem, but it was the only one his tortured heart could find. If he made her pregnant, she'd marry him even if it was only for the child's sake. And he'd make her love him. She had once. If he was careful and gentle with her, he could draw that emotion out of her again. And she'd love their child, even if she didn't love
him
just yet.

Cradling her against his lean body, shivering with the sweet thought of possessing her, he turned and carried her into the house. Behind them the horse lazily devoured every one of Elise's pink peonies, unnoticed by the human beings so entranced by each other.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

B
ESS
COULDN
'
T
FIGHT
her way out of the sensual web Cade had woven around her. She knew almost certainly that he wasn't going to stop, but she loved him too much to protest. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her. Monday she was leaving Lariat forever. This would be all she had of him for the rest of her life.

His mouth enslaved hers, drugging her senseless. He carried her into his bedroom, his body so feverish with desire that he could hardly walk. It was wrong. But even while his mind registered that, his body was throbbing with need, his arms faintly tremulous as they held and cherished Bess.

He loved her. It would only be this one time, he told himself, just this once to hold on to. He didn't dare admit what he was gambling to keep her. The faint hope that he might make her pregnant was pushed to the back of his mind while he fought all his repressions and principles. But it had been so long, and he loved her more than his own life. Losing her to Robert would kill him.

Bess felt him putting her down on the coverlet, and just for an instant she tried to protest. “Cade, don't,” she whispered in a voice that was totally unconvincing. His strong hands pulled the dress away from her body.

“I can't stop, Bess,” he whispered tenderly, his hands unsteady as they eased the fabric away from her soft pink skin. “I've got to have you. Sweetheart, I've got to,” he whispered, his mouth suddenly on her bare belly as his hands swept her briefs away along with the dress. He felt the scars under his lips, but they didn't bother him. Bess was soft and sweet, and the scent of gardenias clung to her, making him drunk.

“I want you, too,” she moaned, and he pulled her hands to his hard, hair-covered chest and moved her fingers over the taut muscles. His mouth covered hers tenderly as his fingers worked at his belt and the zipper below it. He put her hands on him and groaned as he felt her touch him as she'd never dreamed of doing. It was intoxicating. Her hands moved experimentally, lightly touching, tracing, learning the hard lines of him. His nipples hardened when her fingers moved across them, and his flat belly rippled when her hands moved shyly back down again.

He was all muscle. Hard and warm and definitely male. He held her hands against him as he lifted his head and sought out her eyes.

His mouth was just above hers, his lips parted, his eyes sensuous. “I dream of having you touch me like this,” he said roughly. “I dream of taking you under me and feeling all that silky softness enveloping me. You are every dream I ever dreamed.”

Her heart was turning cartwheels in her chest. He arched her back, and her soft breasts were under his mouth. He tasted her, the soft, moist suction making her whimper as he poised over her, his lean, fit body faintly trembling with hunger.

“I can't stop,” she said, moaning with her last breath of self-control, which dissolved with the sudden intimate touch of his hand as it moved down her flat belly. She cried out as the pleasure swept through her, sobbing while he found the right pressure, the right touch, to give her a taste of what was to come.

“We've gone too far to stop,” he said softly. “We'll live with the consequences,” he added, his eyes holding her wild ones for just an instant. “I'm going to cherish you. All our lives we'll have the memory of today,” he whispered as he bent toward her.

She closed her eyes. He felt the same way she did, she thought headily. He wanted this one memory, too. Perhaps that meant that he did care for her in some way.

He fit his lips against the soft contours of hers. His tongue probed inside and she gave in completely, on fire with the hunger to give in to him. All her noble principles flew through her mind, but her body was too hopelessly abandoned to care.

“Come to me,” he murmured against her mouth.

She felt her body obeying him, coloring as her breasts pushed heavily against his hard chest and her bare belly felt the impact of stark male arousal.

“That's good,” he breathed. His arms helped her, and his legs shifted slowly between hers, so that she was suddenly fitted into the shocking contours of his powerful body. “No, don't be afraid of it,” he whispered when she stiffened at the stark intimacy. “I'm aroused, but I won't lose control. This is as natural as breathing. You'll get used to it,” he promised huskily as his mouth covered hers again, his weight pressing her gently into the mattress, the warmth and hardness of it making her tremble with new knowledge, new sensation. The feel of his hair-roughened chest over her bare breasts was as starkly pleasurable as the feel of his hips moving with exquisite tenderness over her own.

He tasted of mint, and what he was doing to her lips was fiercely arousing. He bit and teased them, tempted them until they opened. And then he moved down against them with a pressure that became swiftly invasive. His tongue pushed into her mouth with a slow, steady rhythm.

“Cade...oh, Cade, love me,” she moaned, her voice breaking on the words.

He heard her, and his mind, like his body, blazed. She was soft and warm and he wanted her beyond bearing. His lean hands slid from her hips up her waist to the outside of her breasts. He let them rest there, while his thumbs slowly, expertly, teased the soft curves, ever closer to the suddenly taut peaks. He heard Bess gasp, felt her fingers clutch him as she tried to fight. But he kept on, his mouth insistent, his hands more so, because he knew she wouldn't fight long.

And she didn't. The narcotic effect of desire washed over her with every sweep of his fingers. She began to tremble as he brushed his thumbs around the hard nipples, leaving her taut with feverish anticipation.

Her eyes opened as she gave in to the feeling he was arousing, and she looked into his dark eyes as she let him see how fiercely she wanted his hands.

“Is it good?” he whispered tenderly, and he didn't smile.

“Yes...!” she whispered back as his thumbs made one more foray almost, almost, almost to the place she wanted them. Her back arched and she trembled violently, her eyes holding his. “Touch...them,” she pleaded brokenly.

“Soon, little one,” he whispered. His dark eyes cherished her face as gently as his hands cherished her body. “Yes, it's a fever, isn't it? It burns. You want me to put my hands on you,” he whispered sensuously. “You want my mouth on your breasts again.”

She moaned at the images he was arousing. Her gasp was audible, and her need was visible. Her face was flushed, her eyes hauntingly beautiful as she moved toward him.

“Bess,” he breathed, and this time his hand didn't stop. It swept across the hard tip and his fingers contracted suddenly, rhythmically on the soft, bare skin.

She cried out. It was like a consummation. Her wild eyes closed as her body clenched, and she arched her back, shuddering.

Cade could feel himself losing control at the sight of her like that. He'd always imagined that it would be slow and tender with Bess if he ever made love to her like this, that her responses would be shy and a little reticent. He'd never imagined her so passionate and responsive.

With a rough groan he bent and put his mouth over her breast, the heat and moisture of it penetrating as he cherished it.

She caught his head in her hands and pulled it closer, feeling the hot suction with a sense of inevitability. It had been this all along, this avalanche of feverish need. She'd sensed that, once out of control, it would sweep them both away. But there was no running from it now. She was as involved as he was, her body on fire for him, her mind washed away in her first experience of oblivious pleasure. Cade's mouth found bare, soft, warm skin, and he moaned against her body as he searched over it with his hands. It was the closest to paradise he could ever remember being. She smelled of gardenias and she tasted of rose petals, a softness that made ashes of his most erotic dreams. She was exquisite.

He kept her at fever pitch with hot, hungry kisses as he managed to get out of his clothes. She lay there, her eyes like saucers, her body trembling with hunger until he stood over her, his muscular body bare and fiercely masculine. He held her rapt gaze for a long moment, giving her time to understand the finality of what was going to happen. She stared at him with mingled fascination and fear, but she didn't turn away. His body clenched and he felt himself shudder when her eyes fell down the length of him and her lips parted.

He barely had the presence of mind to pull her dress under them before he fell down beside her. All that sweet curve of body, his to touch, to savor, to possess.

She felt his hands touching her and trembled with desire. She loved him. This would be the first time, and the only time, but she had to have it. She loved him too much to deny him, or herself, this one exquisite memory.

Her mouth met his halfway, and then she felt the unbearably sweet pleasure of his skin against her own, the clasp of his arms, the hardness of his muscular legs as they entwined with her soft ones.

His hands moved on her with slow expertise, gentling her for what was to come, tenderly arousing her all over again to the same fever pitch that had led to that first intimate touch. Only now he was touching her where she was most a woman, and she gasped and her body flinched involuntarily.

His head lifted and his dark eyes held hers while he probed gently. “I'm going to have to hurt you, sweetheart,” he whispered. “But I'll be careful, and very, very slow.”

Her voice broke as she saw him move above her, and there was one second of frightened regret.

“No,” he whispered, his hands nudging her legs apart. “It's all right, Bess.” His mouth brushed her eyes, closing them. “Close your eyes and listen. Listen, sweetheart.” His hands slid under her hips and he whispered to her, starkly intimate things. He told her exactly what they were going to do, how he was going to do it. He teased her lips with his own while his body probed tenderly. The feel of him was beyond her wildest imaginings of intimacy. And still his voice went on and on, the words arousing, forming mental pictures, as he whispered about the pleasure that would follow the pain.

His lips brushed slowly over hers and his tongue teased them. He smiled softly and then he moved down again. His tongue slowly went into her mouth, easily penetrating, gently. She gasped at the first tiny stab of pain. He hesitated, whispering to her, his hands smoothing her hair, tracing her breasts gently. His mouth moved again, his tongue easing inside to touch hers, a little deeper this time. The pain was worse now.

“Don't try to pull away,
amada
,” he whispered, the Spanish love word sounded exquisite in the stillness, which was broken only by her rapid breathing and his heartbeat. His hand clasped her hip, holding her. “Only a little longer now. Bear the pain for me. Think past it.”

“It...hurts,” she protested, her eyes wide and hurting.

He held her gaze, his lean fingers gently tracing her mouth. “Only a little longer,” he whispered, carefully pushing against her. He saw the pain begin to go away, felt her gasp. “I'm...having you,” he said hoarsely, as the pleasure began to uncoil in him. His breath sounded suddenly deeper, rougher. He bit at her mouth, the action slow and fierce and oddly arousing, like the changing rhythm of his damp, muscular body above her. “I'm having you, Bess,” he whispered softly. The breathing grew ragged, and he pushed down, watching her pupils dilate, feeling her body suddenly accept him totally as she cried out softly. “There.” He groaned, his jaw tightened and he shivered with the incredible pleasure of possession. “My God...!”

“Cade!” she moaned.

“You're part of me,” he whispered, awed by the enormity of what they were doing, by the almost awesome oneness. His eyes caressed her, adored her. “Now we join,” he said huskily. He caught her hands and curled them into his, pressing them down above her head. “Now. Yes, now...now, sweetheart. Now!” His hips lifted slowly and then pushed down, lifted again, pushed, and he shuddered with each deliberate movement, his face revealing the strain of his control. “Oh, God...it's so good...so good!”

Her body trembled. The stinging sensation was being consumed by a different sensation. Hot. Burning. But not pain. Her lips parted on a soft gasp as he shifted and she felt the sharp pleasure tear through her stomach.

“I'll make you cry out,” he whispered, watching her face as he moved again. He saw the contortions begin and knew why. He felt a harsh pleasure, a masculine kind of pride in his own capability as he felt her shiver and knew that it was pleasure this time. “You're going to see rainbows.” He breathed roughly as his mouth moved down toward hers. “I'm going to make you see rainbows, however long it takes!”

She moaned into his open mouth. Her fingers curled under his and she began to move with him as she felt the rhythm grow deeper and slower and more terrible. The pleasure was a living thing. Cade was part of her and she was part of him. They were one person, one creature. Her hips lifted to his, her legs tangled with his. Her breasts rose, only to be crushed softly by the descent of his hair-roughened muscles, and he looked down to watch. Her eyes followed his, drawn to the mystery that was a mystery no more. She swallowed and flushed. Her gaze lifted back to his, to find the same wonder and pleasure building in his black eyes.

“Pieces of a puzzle,” he whispered huskily as he began to change the rhythm. “We fit together...like a puzzle. Male and female. Dark and light.” His jaw clenched and he shivered as he began to feel the pleasure. “Oh, God, Bess!” he groaned. His eyes closed and he felt his body tightening. “I want you...!”

She echoed his words, her body gloriously surrendering to the strength and power of his, savoring his endurance when her own had given out. She let him take her then, and the ripple of pleasure caught her unaware as she heard his ragged, tortured breathing and felt the shudder of his body as he drove for fulfillment.