Lone Star Winter (23 page)

She was caught in his dark eyes, spellbound. She'd said that, yes, because of the way he'd behaved about Julie's insults. She'd wanted to sting him. But she didn't mean it. She wasn't ambitious. All she wanted was Jordan. Her eyes were lost in his.

“The elephant?” she parroted, her gaze on his hard mouth.

“You want to see the world,” he translated. But he was moving closer as he said it and his head was bending, even against his will. This was stupid. He couldn't afford to let himself be drawn into this sweet trap.
Libby wanted a career. She was young and ambitious. He'd go in headfirst and she'd take off and leave him, just as Duke Wright's young wife had left him in search of fame and fortune. He'd deliberately drawn back from Libby and let himself be vamped by Julie Merrill, to show this little firecracker that he hadn't been serious about those kisses they'd exchanged. He wasn't going to risk his heart on a gamble this big. Libby was in love with love. She was attracted to him. But that wasn't love. She was too young to know the difference. He wasn't. He'd grabbed at Julie the way a drowning man reaches for a life jacket. Libby didn't know that. He couldn't admit it.

While he was thinking, he was parting her lips with his. He forgot where they were, who they were. He forgot the arguments and all the reasons he shouldn't do this.

“Libby,” he growled against her soft lips.

She barely heard him. Her blood was singing in her veins like a throbbing chorus. Her arms went around his neck in a stranglehold. She pushed up against him, forcing into his mouth in urgency.

His arms swallowed her up whole. The kiss was slow, deep, hungry. It was invasive. Her whole body began to throb with delight. It began to swell. Their earlier
kisses had been almost chaste. These were erotic. They were…narcotic.

A soft little cry of pleasure went from her mouth into his and managed to penetrate the fog of desire she was drowning him in.

He jerked back from her as if he'd been stung. He fought to keep his inner turmoil from showing, his weakness from being visible to her. His big hands caught her waist and pushed her firmly away.

“I know,” she said breathlessly. “You think I've had snakebite on my lip and you were only trying to draw out the poison.”

He burst out laughing in spite of himself.

She swallowed hard and backed away another step. “Just think how Julie Merrill would react if she saw you kissing me.”

That wiped the smile off his face. “That wasn't a kiss,” he said.

“No kidding?” She touched her swollen mouth ironically. “I'll bet Julie could even give you lessons.”

“Don't talk about her like that,” he warned.

“You think she's honest and forthright, because you are,” she said, a little breathless. “You're forgetting that her father is a career politician. They both know how to bend the truth without breaking it, how to influence public opinion.”

“Politics is a science,” he retorted.

“It can be a horrible corruption, as well,” she reminded him. “Calhoun Ballenger has taken a lot of heat from them, even a sexual harassment charge that had no basis in fact. Fortunately, people around here know better, and it backfired. It only made Senator Merrill look bad.”

His eyes began to glitter. “That wasn't fiction. The woman swore it happened.”

“She was one of Julie's cousins,” she said with disgust.

He looked as if he hadn't known that. He scowled, but he didn't answer her.

“Julie thinks my brother and I are so far beneath her that we aren't even worth mentioning,” she continued, folding her arms over her chest. “She chooses her friends by their social status and bank accounts. Curt and I are losers in her book and she doesn't think we're fit to associate with you. She'll find a way to push you right out of our lives.”

“I don't have social status, but I'm welcome in their home,” he said flatly.

“There's an election coming up, they don't have enough money to win it, but you do. They'll take your money and make you feel like an equal until you're not needed anymore. Then you'll be out on your ear.
You don't come from old money, Jordan, even if you're rich now…”

“You don't know a damned thing about what I come from,” he snapped.

The furious statement caught her off guard. She knew Jordan had made his own fortune, but he never spoke about his childhood. His mother worked as a housekeeper. Everybody knew it. He sounded as if he couldn't bear to admit his people were only laborers.

“I didn't mean to be insulting,” she began slowly.

“Hell! You're doing your best to turn me against Julie. She said you would,” he added. “She said something else, too—that you're involved with Harley Fowler.”

She refused to react to that. “Harley's sweet. He defended me when Julie was insulting me.”

That was a sore spot, because Jordan hadn't really heard what Julie was saying until it was too late. He didn't like Harley, anyway.

“Harley's a nobody.”

“Just like me,” she retorted. “I'd much rather have Harley than you, Jordan,” she added. “He may be just a working stiff, but he's got more class than you'll ever have, even if you hang out with the Merrills for the next fifty years!”

That did it. He gave her a furious glare, spit out
a word that would have insulted Satan himself and marched right out the door.

“And stay out!” she called after it slammed.

Kemp stuck his head out of his office door and stared at her. “Are you that same shy, introverted girl who came to work here last year?”

She grinned at him through her heartbreak. “You're rubbing off on me, Mr. Kemp,” she remarked.

He laughed curtly and went back into his office.

 

Later, Libby was miserable. They'd exhumed her father's body and taken it up to the state crime lab in Austin for tests.

Curt was furious when she told him that Jordan had been to her office to apologize for the Merrill girl.

“As if she'd ever apologize to the likes of us,” he said angrily. “And Jordan just stood by and let her insult you in the café without saying a word!”

She gaped at him. “How did you know that?”

“Harley Fowler came by where I was working this morning to tell me about it. He figured, rightly, that you'd try to keep it to yourself.” He sank down into a chair. “I gave Jordan notice this afternoon. In two weeks, I'm out of there.”

She grimaced. “But, Curt, where will you go?”

“Right over to Duke Wright's place,” he replied with
a smile. “I already lined up a job and I'll get a raise, to boot.”

“That's great,” she said, and meant it.

“We'll be fine. Don't worry about it.” He sighed. “It's so much lately, isn't it, sis? But we'll survive. We will!”

“I know that, Curt. I'm not worried.”

 

But she was. She hated being enemies with Jordan, who was basically a kind and generous man. She was furious with the Merrills for coming between them for such a selfish reason. They only wanted Jordan's money for the old man's reelection campaign. They didn't care about Jordan. But perhaps he was flattered to be included in such high society, to be asked to hang out with their friends and acquaintances.

But Libby knew something about the people the Merrills associated with that, perhaps, Jordan didn't. Many of them were addicts, either to liquor or drugs. They did nothing for the community; only for themselves. They wanted to know the right people, be seen in the right places, have money that showed when people looked. But to Libby, who loved her little house and little ranch, it seemed terribly artificial.

She didn't have much but she was happy with her life. She enjoyed planting things and watching them
grow. She liked teaching Vacation Bible School in the summer and working in the church nursery with little children. She liked cooking food to carry to bereaved families when relatives died. She liked helping out with church bazaars, donating time to the local soup kitchen. She didn't put on airs, but people seemed to like her just the way she was.

Certainly Harley Fowler did. He'd come over to see her the day after Julie's attack in the café, to make sure she was all right. He'd asked her out to eat the following Saturday night.

“Only to Shea's,” he chuckled. “I just paid off a new transmission for my truck and I'm broke.”

She'd grinned at him. “That's okay. I'm broke, too!”

He shook his head, his eyes sparkling as he looked down at her with appreciation. “Libby, you're my kind of people.”

“Thanks, Harley.”

“Say, can you dance?”

She blinked. “Well, I can do a two-step.”

“That's good enough.” He chuckled. “I've been taking these dance courses on the side.”

“I know. I heard about the famous waltz with Janie Brewster at the Cattleman's Ball last year.”

He smiled sheepishly. “Well, now I'm working on
the jitterbug and I hear that Shea's live band can play that sort of thing.”

“You can teach me to jitterbug, Harley,” she agreed at once. “I'd love to go dancing with you.”

He looked odd. “Really?”

She nodded and smiled. “Really.”

“Then I'll see you Saturday about six. We can eat there, too.”

“Suits me. I'll leave supper for Curt in the refrigerator. That was really nice of you to go to bat for him with your boss, Harley,” she added seriously. “Thanks.”

He shrugged. “Mr. Parks wasn't too pleased with the way Powell's sucking up to the Merrills, either,” he said. “He knows things about them.”

“So do I,” she replied. “But Jordan doesn't take well-meant advice.”

“His problem,” Harley said sharply.

She nodded. “Yes, Harley. It's his problem. I'll see you Saturday!” she added, laughing.

When she told Curt about the upcoming date, he seemed pleased. “It's about time you went out and had some fun for a change.”

“I like Harley a lot,” she told her brother.

He searched her eyes knowingly. “But he's not Jordan.”

She turned away. “Jordan made his choice. I'm making mine.” She smiled philosophically. “I dare say we'll both be happy!”

L
ibby and Harley raised eyebrows at Shea's Roadhouse and Bar with their impromptu rendition of the jitter bug. It was a full house, too, on a Saturday night. At least two of the Tremayne brothers were there with their wives, and Calhoun Ballenger and his wife, Abby, were sitting at a table nearby with Leo Hart and his wife, Janie.

“I'm absolutely sure that Calhoun's going to win the state senate seat,” Harley said in Libby's ear when they were seated again, drinking iced tea and eating hamburgers. “It looks like he's going to get some sup port from the Harts.”

“Is Mr. Parks in his corner, too?” she asked.

He nodded. “All the way. The political landscape has been changing steadily for the past few years, but old man Merrill just keeps going with his old agenda. He hasn't got a clue what the voters want anymore. And, more important, he doesn't control them through his powerful friends.”

“You'd think his daughter would be forward thinking,” she pointed out.

He didn't say anything. But his face was eloquent.

“Somebody said she was thinking of running for public office in Jacobsville,” she began.

“No name identification,” Harley said at once. “You have to have it to win an office. Without it, all the money in the world won't get you elected.”

“You seem to know something about politics,” she commented.

He averted his eyes. “Do I?” he mused.

Harley never talked about his family, or his past. He'd shown up at Cy Parks's place one day and proved himself to be an exceptional cowboy, but nobody knew much about him. He'd gone on a gigantic drug bust with Jacobsville's ex-mercenaries and he had a reputation for being a tough customer. But he was as mysterious in his way as the town's police chief, Cash Grier.

“Wouldn't you just know they'd show up and spoil
everything?” Harley said suddenly, glaring toward the door.

Sure enough, there was Jordan Powell in an expensive Western-cut sports coat and Stetson and boots, escorting pretty Julie Merrill in a blue silk dress that looked simple and probably cost the earth.

“Doesn't she look expensive?” Harley mused.

“She probably is,” Libby said, trying not to look and sound as hurt as she really was. It killed her to see Jordan there with that terrible woman.

“She's going to find out, pretty soon, that she's the equivalent of three-day-old fish with this crowd,” Harley predicted coolly, watching her stick her nose up at the Ballengers as she passed them.

“I just hope she doesn't drag Jordan down with her,” Libby said softly. “He started out like us, Harley,” she added. “He was just a working cowboy with ambition.”

Jordan seated Julie and shot a cool glance in Harley and Libby's direction, without even acknowledging them. He sat down, placing his Stetson on a vacant chair and motioned a waiter.

“Did you want something stronger to drink?” Harley asked her.

She grinned at him. “I don't have a head for liquor, Harley. I'd rather stick to iced tea, if you don't mind.”

“So would I,” he confided, motioning for a waiter.

The waiter, with a fine sense of irony, walked right past Jordan to take Harley's order. Julie Merrill was sputtering like a stepped-on garden hose.

“Two more iced teas, Charlie,” Harley told the waiter. “And thanks for giving us preference.”

“Oh, I know who the best people are, Harley,” the boy said with a wicked grin. And he walked right past Jordan and Julie again, without even looking at them. A minute later, Jordan got up and stalked over to the counter to order their drinks.

“He'll smolder for the rest of the night over that,” Harley mused. “So will she, unless I miss my guess. Isn't it amazing,” he added thoughtfully, “that a man with as much sense as Jordan Powell can't see right through that debutante?”

“How is it that you can?” Libby asked him curiously.

He shrugged. “I know politicians all too well,” he said, and for a moment, his expression was distant. “Old man Merrill has been hitting the bottle pretty hard lately,” he said. “It isn't going to sit well with his constituents that he got pulled over and charged with drunk driving by Jacobsville's finest.”

“Do you think they'll convict him?” she wondered aloud.

“You can bet money on it,” Harley replied. “The world has shifted ten degrees. Local politicians don't meet in parked cars and make policy anymore. The sunshine laws mean that the media get wind of anything crooked and they report it. Senator Merrill has been living in the past. He's going to get a hell of a wake-up call at the primary election, when Calhoun Ballenger knocks him off the Democratic ballot as a contender.”

“Mr. Ballenger looks like a gentleman,” Libby commented, noticing the closeness of Calhoun and his brunette wife, Abby. “He and his wife have been married a long time, haven't they?”

“Years,” Harley said. “He and Justin are honest and hardworking men. They came up from nothing, too, although Justin's wife, Shelby, was a Jacobs before she married him,” he reminded her. “A direct descendant of Big John Jacobs. But don't you think either of the Ballenger brothers would have been taken in by Julie Merrill, even when they were still single.”

She paused to thank the waiter, who brought their two glasses of tall, cold iced tea. Jordan was still waiting for his order at the counter, while Julie glared at Libby and Harley.

“She's not quite normal, is she?” Libby said qui
etly. “I mean, that outburst in Barbara's Café was so…violent.”

“People on drugs usually are violent,” Harley replied. “And irrational.” He looked right into Libby's eyes. “She's involved in some pretty nasty stuff, Libby. I can't tell you what I know, but Jordan is damaging himself just by being seen in public with her. The campaigns will get hot and heavy later this month and some dirty linen is about to be exposed to God and the general public.”

Libby was concerned. “Jordan's a good man,” she said quietly, her eyes going like homing pigeons to his lean, handsome face.

He caught her looking at him and glared. Julie, seeing his attention diverted, looked, too.

Once he returned to the table Julie leaned over and whispered something to Jordan that made him give Libby a killing glare before he started ignoring her completely.

“Watch your back,” Harley told Libby as he sipped his iced tea. “She considers you a danger to her plans with Jordan. She'll sell you down the river if she can.”

She sighed miserably. “First my stepmother, now Julie,” she murmured. “I feel like I've got a target painted on my forehead.”

“We all have bad times,” Harley told her gently, and slid a big hand over one of hers where it lay on the table. “We get through them.”

“You, too?” she wondered aloud.

“Yeah. Me, too,” he replied, and he smiled at her.

Neither of them saw the furious look on Jordan Powell's face, or the calculating look on Julie's.

 

The following week, when Libby went to Barbara's Café for lunch, she walked right into Jordan Powell on the sidewalk. He was alone, as she was, and his expression made her feel cold all over.

“What's this about you going up to San Antonio for the night with Harley last Wednesday?” he asked bluntly.

Libby couldn't even formulate a reply for the shock. She'd driven Curt over to Duke Wright's place early Wednesday afternoon and from there she'd driven up to San Antonio to obtain some legal documents from the county clerk's office for Mr. Kemp. She hadn't even seen Harley there.

“I thought you were pure as the driven snow,” Jordan continued icily. His dark eyes narrowed on her shocked face. “You put on a good act, don't you, Libby? I don't need to be a mind reader to know why, either. I'm
rich and you and your brother are about to lose your ranch.”

“Janet hasn't started probate yet,” she faltered.

“That's not what I hear.”

“I don't care what you hear,” she told him flatly. “Neither Curt nor I care very much what you think, either, Jordan. But you're going to run into serious problems if you hang out with Julie Merrill until her father loses the election.”

He glared down at her. “He isn't going to lose,” he assured her.

She hated seeing him be so stubborn, especially when she had at least some idea of what Julie was going to drag him down into. She moved a step closer, her green eyes soft and beseeching. “Jordan, you're an intelligent man,” she began slowly. “Surely you can see what Julie wants you for…”

A worldly look narrowed his eyes as they searched over her figure without any reaction at all. “Julie wants me, all right,” he replied, coolly. “That's what's driving you to make these wild comments, isn't it? You're jealous because I'm spending so much time with her.”

She didn't dare let on what she was feeling. She forced a careless smile. “Am I? You think I don't know when a man is teasing me?”

“You know more than I ever gave you credit for
and that's the truth,” he said flatly. “You and Harley Fowler.” He made it sound like an insult.

“Harley is a fine man,” she said, defending him.

“Obviously you think so, or you wouldn't be shacking up with him,” he accused. “Does your brother know?”

“I'm a big girl now,” she said, furious at the insinuation.

“Both of you had better remember that I make a bad enemy,” he told her. “Whatever happens with your ranch, I don't want to have a subdivision full of people on my border.”

He didn't know that Libby and Curt had already discussed how they were going to manage without their father's life insurance policy to pay the mortgage payments that were still owed. Riddle had taken out a mortgage on the ranch to buy Janet's Mercedes. Janet had waltzed off with the money and the private detective Jordan had recommended to Mr. Kemp had drawn a blank when he tried to dig into Janet's past. The will hadn't been probated, either, so there was no way Riddle Collins's children could claim any of their inheritance with which to pay bills or make that huge mortgage payment. They'd had to let their only helper—their part-time cowboy—go, for lack of funds to pay him. They only had one horse left and they'd had
to sell off most of their cattle. The only money coming in right now was what Curt and Libby earned in their respective jobs, and it wasn't much.

Of course, Libby wasn't going to share that information with a hostile Jordan Powell. Things were so bad that she and Curt might have to move off the ranch anyway because they couldn't make that mortgage payment at the end of the month. It was over eight hundred dollars. Their collective take-home pay wouldn't amount to that much and there were still other bills owing. Janet had run up huge bills while Riddle was still alive.

Jordan felt sick at what he was saying to Libby. He was jealous of Harley Fowler, furiously jealous. He couldn't bear the thought of Libby in bed with the other man. She wasn't even denying what Julie had assured him had happened between them. Libby, in Harley's arms, kissing him with such hunger that his toes tingled. Libby, loving Harley…

Jordan ached to have her for himself. He dreamed of her every night. But Libby was with Harley now. He'd lost his chance. He couldn't bear it!

“Is Harley going to loan you enough money to keep the ranch going until Janet's found?” he wondered aloud. He smiled coldly. “He hasn't got two dimes to rub together, from what I hear.”

Libby remembered the mortgage payments she couldn't make. Once, she might have bent her pride enough to ask Jordan to loan it to her. Not anymore. Not after what he'd said to her.

She lifted her chin. “That's not your business, Jordan,” she said proudly.

“Don't expect me to lend it to you,” he said for spite.

“Jordan, I wouldn't ask you for a loan if the house burned down,” she assured him, unflinching. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm using up my lunch hour.”

She started to go around him, but he caught her arm and marched her down the little alley between her office and the town square. It was an alcove, away from traffic, with no prying eyes.

While she was wondering what was on his mind, he backed her up against the cold brick and brought his mouth down on her lips.

She pushed at his chest, but he only gave her his weight, pressing her harder into the wall. His own body was almost as hard, especially when his hips shifted suddenly, and lowered squarely against her own. She shivered at the slow caress of his hands on her rib cage while the kiss went on and on. She couldn't breathe. She didn't want to breathe. Her body ached for something more than this warm, heady torment.
She moaned huskily under the hard, furious press of his mouth.

He lifted his head a bare inch and looked into her wide green eyes with possession and desire. It never stopped. He couldn't get within arm's length of her without giving in to temptation. Did she realize? No. She had no idea. She thought it was a punishment for her harsh words. It was more. It was anguish.

“You still want me,” he ground out. “Do you think I don't know?”

“What?” she murmured, her eyes on his mouth. She could barely think at all. She felt his body so close that when he breathed, her chest deflated. Her breasts ached at the warm pressure of his broad chest. It was heaven to be so close to him. And she didn't dare let it show.

“Are you trying to prove something?” she murmured, forcing her hands to push instead of pull at his shoulders.

“Only that Harley isn't in my league,” he said in a husky, arrogant tone, as he bent again and forced her mouth open under the slow, exquisite skill of his kisses. “In fact,” he bit off against her lips, “neither are you, cupcake.”

She wanted to come back with some snappy reply. She really did. But the sensations he was arousing were
hypnotic, drugging. She felt him move one long, powerful jean-clad leg in between both of hers. It was broad daylight, in the middle of town. He was making love to her against a wall. And she didn't care.