Diamond Spur (13 page)

He caught her other wrist, too, and pushed her back against the door of the Tempo, pinning her with the threat of his body. "Stand still," he said curtly, using the tone that made his cowboys jump even though he never raised his voice. "You're not getting in that car until you calm

down."

She could hardly breathe, and her eyes were wet. Mascara was running down her cheeks with tears, and her throat felt as if she'd swallowed a pincushion. "It was Cherry's idea," she said harshly. "I had no idea that I was walking into the Spanish Inquisition, or that I was going to have you bite my head off and humiliate me in front of your latest conquest!"

He scowled down at her. "What conquest?"

"That silky-eyed blonde," she wept. "And I wish you joy of her, Jason, she's just your style; a selfish little money-hungry man-eater who's good in bed and doesn't give a hang about anything except herself! She's even blonde, like that Melody woman...!"

He put a tight rein on his temper, infuriated by the accusation. He'd meant to tell Kate that the blonde, whom he disliked anyway, was married to one of those very rich elderly gentlemen at the table. And that the discussion they'd been having was strictly business. But he'd be damned if he'd tell her now. It would serve no purpose, anyway. It was cutting him to pieces not to give in and pull her into his arms. The past three weeks had proved to him that she could become his Achilles' heel; but that was something he couldn't allow to develop.

Jason let her go abruptly and moved away to light a cigarette with steady hands. "I like blondes, honey," he said with deliberate cruelty, smiling through a cloud of smoke. "And you'd better get used to the idea that women are a permissible part of my life. I don't have to explain myself to you."

She swallowed convulsively. Tears blurred her vision, but that was just as well. She didn't want him to see the pain in her face. She took deep breaths. "No. You don't," she said with the last shreds of her pride. "I'm sorry I spoiled your business dinner and made an utter fool of myself. Cherry asked me to come—I thought it had been long enough that you...you wouldn't mind having

me around just for a meal." Her voice broke and she turned away. Jason felt himself weakening, and that was the one thing he didn't dare let happen. He steeled himself not to give in. "Now you know that I do mind," he said, forcing carelessness into his voice. "I told you how it was going to be." She reached for the door handle without looking back at him. "So you did." She opened it, watching the light come on in the headlines "I should have paid attention."

"Don't come back here again, Kate," he said quietly. "It gives me no pleasure to hurt you."

"We were friends," she whispered. "I hate being a stranger to you."

He drew in a slow, steadying breath. "Don't make this any harder than it already is," he ground out. She was cutting the ground out from under him with her unexpected vulnerability. He'd never heard her cry until tonight. It had taken his last ounce of willpower to keep from going across the table after her inside, when he saw the tears gleaming in those soft, trusting green eyes. Hurting Kate was unbearable. But he had to. He couldn't give in to her...!

"I told you I didn't want you here," he said through his teeth. "Damn it, why didn't you

listen? Can't you get it through your head that I don't want you hanging on my neck like a

lovesick teenage girl?" he demanded, certain that she'd leave now.

But instead, Kate cried; huge racking sobs. And as she fumbled with the door, Jason's motives

went up in smoke. He threw the cigarette away with a furious curse and reached for her.

He caught her, turned her, wrapped her up in his arms and bent, groaning, to her mouth.

Time stopped. He was rough, and she didn't mind. His mouth hurt, and even the hurt was

sweet. She felt him bend her, lift her into the hard contours of his body, and she reached up to

slide her arms around his neck. She clung, loving the violence of it—loving the undisguised hunger in his mouth as it burrowed deeper into hers, and the crush of his hard arms, the faint tremor in his powerful body.

"Oh, God," he breathed into her open mouth. "I can't stand it...!" He backed her against the car, oblivious to where they were, grateful for the concealing blanket of darkness as his hips ground into hers. She felt him, knew that he was savagely aroused. That aroused her. Jason was suddenly out of control, and his hips began to shift sensually over hers in a frank statement of his desire. All the while, his mouth moved obsessively on her lips, his tongue probing rhythmically into her mouth. "Kate," he groaned. His hands contracted on her hips, his lean fingers pegging into her flesh as he tried to get closer to her.

She held him tighter, and her body began to move helplessly. The tears came hotter now, faster, and she was moaning, whimpering into his devouring mouth. His hands slid up to her breasts, cupping them blatantly through the fabric. His fingers held their aroused tips, testing the hardness while she gasped at the sensations he was causing her to feel.

"You damned little fool, I could take you right here, standing up, in front of God and the whole world. And you won't understand why I don't want you around," he whispered hoarsely, his voice dark with quiet fury. "You've got me so aroused that I don't even know if I can stand up straight. Feel me, Kate," he ground out, pushing against her. "Damn you, feel what you've done to me! You're a virgin. Do you think I can just push you down and take what I want without any conscience?"

"I don't care," she whimpered against his hard mouth.

"Well, I care. And you would, sooner or later." He let his mouth slide down to her throat, pressing hotly into the soft flesh. He shuddered. "Three weeks," he whispered hoarsely. "My God, it feels like three years. I could hate you for what you do to me, Kate!"

"Well, I'm just as helpless!" she cried tearfully. "Jason, everyone is vulnerable sometimes."

"Not me. Not with you." He took a deep breath and forced himself to be still. He was shaking, and she had to feel it, to know how out of control he'd been. That made it worse, to have her know how vulnerable he was, but he couldn't help it. Jason took deep breaths and finally levered himself painfully away from her. Kate couldn't see his eyes, but she could feel the

anger in him. "Get away from me. And don't come back. I don't want you here." "What are you afraid of?" she asked, trembling still from his feverish embrace. "I'm not any threat to you." "I'm not afraid," he said curtly. He breathed deliberately, and then he took out a cigarette and lit it with fingers that trembled. "I told you, I don't want involvement."

"You're so straitlaced," she breathed unsteadily. "So honorable. You don't make mistakes, you

don't lose control. You won't let yourself be anything less than perfect and you won't accept

imperfection in anybody else. Oh, Jason, do you want to spend your whole life alone?"

"I don't want to be owned, Kate," he bit off. "I won't be owned, least of all by a virginal

child who can't even dress properly or behave like an adult in polite company!"

That was the final blow. She'd taken all she could take from him. He was using every weapon

he had against her, and he'd finally found one that worked. Kate drew back her hand and

slapped him full across the cheek as hard as she could.

"Go home," he said coldly, after a brief silence.

"With pleasure," she managed unsteadily. "I couldn't live up to a man like you in a million years. Thank you for spelling it out for me. Good-bye, Jason."

She got into the car with as much dignity as she could muster and drove off sedately, leaving him standing in the yard, in the dark, alone.

Kate walked around in a daze all day Sunday and Monday at work. The blonde's caustic remarks, and Jason's turbulent behavior had shaken her out of her shoes. She felt raw inside. Hurt. Bruised. And the worst of it was that she was certain Jason had been well on the way to feeling something deep and lasting for her. But he was afraid of emotion, and he'd fought it to a standstill. He'd pushed her away last night with finality, despite his loss of control. In fact, he'd very likely pushed her away because of that loss of control. He was used to having vulnerability met with pain, so it wasn't even surprising that he was fighting his new feelings for Kate. She understood. But that didn't make it any easier for her to live with.

At least her line was off to a marvelous start. Kate became more excited with each step as she saw her designs on paper become ensembles on a rack. The hope of making something of herself took a little of the sting out of Saturday night. She was more determined than ever now to do something spectacular. It was almost a fever in her now, to pull herself up out of poverty. To be somebody. To show Jason that she didn't need his pity or his patronage, that she could belong to the world at large.

Kate had long since selected her fabric. It was sitting on flats by the back door of the plant, huge bales of cloth stacked up out in the cutting room, the enormous rolls of it lending color to the drab khaki and camouflage cloth that the workers were sewing for a government contract.

"Pretty stuff," one of the cutters said with a grin as he walked past. "It'll make a nice change." "You're a brick," she told him. He was one of the men she knew well, the father of a girl she'd gone to school with. "Is that all of it?" she asked, studying the stack of rolls.

"We got shorted two bales," he replied. "But Gloria in the cutting room office has already checked on it, and the warehouse will send it the end of the week. Don't worry," he chuckled. "By the time you get the markers ready for us to cut by, we'll have it all in hand."

"Of course we will," she agreed. And she laughed with sheer delight at the idea of having specially ordered cloth just for her very own designs. It was more fun than she'd ever imagined.

As Kate walked back toward the cutting room, one of the spreaders—the men who spread thirty to sixty ply of fabric on the long tables for the cutters—came by with two samples of cloth in his hand.

"Want to help me shade cloth?" He grinned wickedly because he knew Kate had one slight visual flaw—telling the difference between dark blue and black.

"You go away," she told him. "Both those pieces are black or I'm a truck driver."

He glowered. "Somebody told you!"

She shook her finger at him, and when he left, she called a thank you to the stockroom clerk, who'd been mouthing "black, black!" around a corner.

She walked back down the long corridor, her mind clouded with an old fantasy of having a major

designer get excited over her work and offer her a fabulous contract to produce haute couture garments. Then

she abruptly came back down to earth, remembering the humiliation of Saturday night. Kate lifted her chin

proudly. Well, maybe she didn't know high fashion yet, but she would. Meanwhile she'd design what she

did best, and take it one step at a time.

Her work load grew as the pressure did, and it was hard to be creative with deadlines staring her in the face.

October wasn't that far away, and unfortunately, she had dozens of designs to finish for inclusion in the

collection. Kate had a difficult time ahead of her. If she hadn't loved what she was doing so much, or

wanted it so badly, she might have thrown up her hands and gone back out to sew on the line

Jason hadn't come near her for two days. But she hadn't really expected him to. He'd made himself

crystal clear, and apparently he was going to cut her completely out of his life. They wouldn't even speak

anymore. That was painful, because after having sampled his ardor, she dreamed about him all the time now.

It was more than just caring more than loving him. She wanted him, as a woman wants' a man. And that was

going to make the months ahead unbearable.

Kate started spending her evenings at her work, spreading paper and bits and pieces of lace and trim all over the kitchen table as she laid out new designs. Mary gave up trying to talk to her, and took to reading mystery novels instead. She assumed it was the pressure getting to Kate, and not their absent neighbor. Which was a relief to Kate, because Mary was starting to show some concern about this new career that might take her daughter away from home for good.

One night toward the end of the week, while Kate was

still struggling with one particular gored skirt on paper, Mary came into the kitchen after work to make another

pot of coffee.

"You're going to kill yourself if you keep up this pace," she remarked.

Kate only smiled without looking up. "I've got to meet the deadline. We've got a car payment coming up," she added. The car and the phone were great. There were other little luxuries that they were able to afford, too, like a used washer and dryer combination and some paint for the outside of the house, and even some new clothes. It was so wonderful, just to go to the grocery store and not have to budget every penny. Kate bought cheese and lettuce every week, which she considered a godsend. And that was wonderful.

"It's just wonderful, having a few things." Mary touched her hair gently. "I wish I could have given them to you. It doesn't seem right, you having to do for me." Kate put down the pencil, stood up and put her arms around her thin mother. "Now just hush," she scolded. "I love you. If I want to do a few things for you, that's my right." "I love you, too." She smiled at her daughter. "Okay. I won't fuss." She moved away to start the coffee. "Want a cup?" Kate stretched, lifting the hem of her embroidered tank top away from the waistline of her jeans. "I guess so. I'm tired." "No wonder, the way you've been working the past few days. Oh, I forgot to tell you, Cherry's stopping by this evening to pick up that skirt she had you sew for her. Is it ready?" "It sure is." Kate went and fetched it, a full circle denim skirt with embroidery all over the hem and waistband. "I

hope she likes it. It was flattering, having her ask me to sew for her."

"She said she was afraid you wouldn't want to come to the house," Mary said quietly.

Kate's face grew hard. "She's absolutely right. I can't remember ever feeling so stupid. Jason's made it very clear that he doesn't want me around anymore."

"You know why," Mary said gently. She sighed. "Honey, he's had a hard life. You can't blame him for being afraid of involvement. Every single person he's ever cared about has hurt him."

"I wouldn't, though," Kate returned, her eyes hurting. "I'd never hurt him!"

"He has to find that out for himself, " her mother said. "And Kate, he's trying to protect you. He's older than you are. He can see things more clearly. He does care, in a way—he cares too much to use you."

"I wish I were rich and beautiful," Kate said fiercely. "I wish I were famous, and sophisticated...!"

"The reason he cares so much about you is because you're not sophisticated," Mary reminded her. "Give it time, honey. Don't worry so. You've got enough to do now with this designing. Don't make things harder on yourself by worrying about things you can't change. If it's meant to be, it will be. But if it isn't, nothing you can do will make it happen."

Kate sighed wearily. "You fatalist, you." She smiled. "But I guess you're right. It's hard, having your dreams go up in smoke...that must be Cherry," she broke off as she heard a car coming up outside. Kate fought to get her emotions under control. All those dreams, and Jason had been so hungry for her. As hungry as she was for him. And then he just turned it off and walked away. She hated even the memories now, because they taunted her with things she could never have.

"It's Cherry," Mary said. She opened the door, smiling. "Hello! Come in and have coffee with us, I've just put it on.

"I'd love to have a cup, and move in with you, too, if it's okay," Cherry said bitterly. She was a dish in her little yellow frock, every strand of blond hair in place. She smiled at Kate. "Hi! Are we still speaking? I hope you'll be able to forgive me someday..."

"I've already done that," Kate said honestly. "You couldn't have known what was going to happen. I'm just sorry that I ruined the evening for everybody."

"Pity you couldn't have been a fly on the wall after you left." Cherry grinned. "Mrs. Davis gave Daphne hell on the half shell about what she'd said to you, and she told her husband right in front of everybody that in the future she wanted no part of any dinner or gathering that included the very snobby Mrs. Haversham. That's Daphne's last name; you were sitting next to her husband."

Kate felt her heart stop. "She's married? The way she was flirting with Jason, I thought she might be his latest conquest."

"She and her husband have a feedlot, Jason had thought about doing some business with them, but he didn't say another word about it after you left. He sat sipping brandy and looking unapproachable. The visitors left, and he gave me hell, too." She flushed. "I didn't even fuss, because I deserved it, and I told him so. The upshot is that Gene gets to go to his exhibit, but if I'd known how much hurt I was going to cause with my plotting, I swear I'd never have asked you into that hornet's nest."

"No harm done," Kate lied. "And I've got your skirt ready." Kate produced it, and Cherry's eyes lit up with genuine pleasure. "Oh, Kate, it's the prettiest thing I've ever seen," she sighed, holding it against her. "Whatever you've charged me won't be nearly enough. I'd pay well

over a hundred dollars for it in any boutique, so that's what you're getting, and don't argue," she

added, watching Kate's mouth open to protest. "You know very well that Gene can afford it."

"That isn't the point, you're like family..." Kate argued.

"Sorry, but the ink's dry, I can't change it." Cherry grinned, producing a check from her dress pocket. "You doll," Kate sighed, and hugged her. "How can I thank you?" "You've got that backwards," she was assured. "And how you can thank me is by making me a tank top like yours to match it. Okay?"

Kate shook her head, laughing. "This old thing? You're kidding!"

"I am not. I want one."

"Well, all right."

"Now," Cherry said. "How about that coffee?"

"Make mine black," Mary called to Kate as she went to fetch it from the kitchen.

"How's Gene doing with his painting?" Mary asked as they sat on the worn floral cover of the living room sofa.

Cherry sat back with a long sigh. "He'd do fine if he could convince his older brother that he had talent. Jay still thinks he should become a cattleman, but Gene isn't a rancher at heart. Jay is determined to beat him into shape."

"And Gene can't say no to his brother because he owes him so much," Mary said.

"That's about it," Cherry agreed. She looked up as Kate came in with coffee on an old tin tray. "You know how hard it was on the boys, Kate," she added. "With the old man drinking like a fish and beating them bloody if they didn't jump fast enough to suit him. I swear if it hadn't been for Jay, he'd have killed Gene once. Sheila told me about it when Gene and I first got married. Jay was in his last year or so of high school and Gene had just barely

started. Well, she said old man Donavan had taken a quirt to Gene for missing the school bus, of all things, and he was blind staggering drunk. He was beating the boy bloody when Jay came running back from the bus and fought the whip out of his daddy's hands. He turned on Jay, too, but by that time the bus driver had backed up and put in his two cents worth. They said that every kid on the bus got an eyeful of the Donavan boys' home life that day, and that even the teachers were easy on them from then on when they were disobedient."

"Yes, I knew about that. It was one of the teachers who tried to have the boys taken away from him," Mary agreed. She sipped her coffee slowly. "But J.B. was cold sober that one day in court, and convinced the judge that he loved his kids. After he told about how Nell had run off and left them, and how they'd suffered, and how Sheila took such good care of them...well, the judge felt sorry for the old man. Most people did, and were shocked at the way he acted when he drank. He was a good man when he was sober. But after that, J.B. must have looked hard at himself, or Jason must have threatened him. Things got better. Frank helped," she added, recalling times when her late husband, Kate's father, had intervened.

"Jason's had a hard life, but it isn't right for Gene to let his older brother plan his life for him. It's my life, too, now. I don't want to spend it on a cattle ranch any more than Gene does."

"Can't you talk to Jason about it?" Kate asked. "He's not an ogre."

"Only you could ever say that with a straight face," Cherry chuckled. "You're the only person he gets along with, as a rule, except that lately he seems to explode if your name is mentioned. But he hates most people, and he just tolerates me because he has to."

"He seems to like Gabe most of the time," Kate mur
mured, her eyes faraway as she remembered the good days. "And he even tolerates Red Barton, whom most cattlemen would shoot on sight for gross insubordination. That cowboy stays in trouble all the time."