To Love and Cherish (11 page)

He looked down at her hands against his body, and his eyes were dark and sensuous.

“God, you learn fast,” he whispered huskily.

Her hands slid up and around his neck. She reached up and pressed her lips against his softly, warmly. “I
like kissing you,” she whispered, admitting it at last.

“I like it too, honey,” he murmured against her parting lips. “Had enough?”

“No,” she breathed.

“That's just as well,” he whispered unsteadily, “because neither have I. Come here.”

She felt the weight of him with a sense of wonder, her eyes open and staring up into the thick, dark patches of leaves on the oak tree as his lips explored her ears, her chin, the softness of her throat. If the world ended, it wouldn't matter now, she thought contentedly, because she had everything she wanted in her arms right now.

He looked down into yielded, brown eyes that openly worshipped him, and drew a hard, heavy breath. “Shelby,” he whispered softly.

Her fingers traced the slow curve
of his mouth. “Thank you for letting me come here,” she whispered. “Thank you for coming after me.”

His lips brushed her fingers. “I'll never forget the way you looked that night,” he said gently. “Why didn't you call me when it happened?”

“I…I wasn't on your list of favorite people,” she recalled.

He sighed roughly. “No, you weren't. When I thought you were going to marry Danny…” His eyes met hers levelly. “But that wouldn't have stopped me from coming to help you, didn't you know that?”

She only shook her head, trying to make sense of what he was saying. “I was so glad to see you,” she said.

“I noticed,” he murmured. His eyes searched hers. “You slept in my arms.”

A blush flamed on her face, but she didn't lower her eyes. “All night,” she whispered.

He leaned down. “And I didn't want to sleep,” he whispered back. His mouth found hers, cherishing it softly, slowly, exploring it with a thoroughness that drew a moan from her.

“King…” she whispered.

All of a sudden, he rolled away from her and sat up, reaching for his hat. “Get up, brat, and let's go.”

She blinked. “Where?” she asked as he jerked her to her feet, barely giving her time to get her own hat on.

“To teach you how to shoot a gun.”

“But I thought you had work to do.”

He glanced at her wryly. “If we don't find something to keep us busy, little girl, you're going to wish I had work to do,” he said bluntly.

She laughed, the sound of it echoing through the trees musically, and
she thought she'd never been so happy. She felt like dancing, singing.

He caught her by the waist, reacting to that brightness in her roughly, his mouth grinding against hers for an instant before he lifted her into the saddle.

“I'll race you,” she challenged.

“I'll beat you,” he replied, swinging gracefully into the saddle. And he did.

 

The .22 rifle was easy to handle, and Shelby found she had a natural aptitude for it. She laughed when she hit the bulls-eye of the target King had set up for her in the woods just behind the ranch house.

“I did it!” she grinned, shaking her head in disbelief as she stared at the yellow center. “Annie Oakley, hang on to your laurels!”

“Don't get heady with success yet,” he cautioned. “It was begin
ner's luck. You weren't even aiming properly.”

“I was so. I had it in the crosshairs!”

“Like hell you did.”

“I did!” she protested.

He came up behind her and reached around her on both sides, forcing her to hold the telescopic sight level with her eye.

“Like this,” he murmured, close and warm and strong behind her. “Aim down the barrel, see?”

“I see,” she replied breathlessly. She wasn't as aware of the sight as she was of his lean, hard body, the warmth of it touching her all the way up and down. He smelled of cologne, and the feel of his rough cheek pressed against hers made her weak at the knees.

“Your mind isn't on what you're doing, Shelby,” he whispered.

Her eyes closed. “I know.”

“Neither is mine,” he admitted in a soft, deep tone. “I want to turn you around and taste every sweet curve of your mouth. I want to feel you against me all the way up and down…” He tore away from her, his face hardening, his jaw like steel. He lit a cigarette, turning to scowl down on her young, flushed face intently. The only sounds were the cries of birds and the creaking sway of young pine trees around them.

“Can't you see what's happening, Shelby?” he asked tightly. “We're spending too damned much time together.”

“I…didn't ask to come this time,” she reminded him.

“Hell, I know that!” He took a long draw from the cigarette. “I'm going to send you home.”

S
he heard the words through a haze, and at first they didn't register. Then, with startling clarity, they did.

“Send me…home?” she echoed weakly.

He sighed impatiently. “I want you until I can't sleep for thinking about it, is that clear enough?” he growled harshly. “I love my freedom, Shelby. I don't intend giving it
up for a delicate little butterfly who'd have her wings torn off the first month she spent here.”

She let her eyes trace his hard face down to the open neck of his shirt. “I haven't asked for anything,” she whispered.

“You haven't,” he agreed. “But if you stay here another week, I'm going to. Every time I touch you…” He took a deep breath. “It's been amusing, Shelby. You were something to fill in the time with while Janice was away. But she's back now, and I don't need the diversion anymore,” he added with deliberate cruelty.

She felt the world caving in on top of her. She could barely get the words past her lips. “I…I'll leave in the morning,” she said in a ghostly voice.

He nodded. “I'll drive you to the station,” he said quietly. “Or the air
port, if you'd prefer. I'll even buy you a meal before you go.”

I'll buy you…It was the story of her life. Her mother had tried so long to buy her affection with expensive presents. Now King was offering to buy her broken heart.

She closed her eyes as she turned away, feeling suddenly sick. “You don't have to bribe me,” she whispered shakily.

“No,” he said in a strange voice. “I don't.”

She walked back toward the house, leaving him alone in the dark forest, watching, quietly, every step she took until she was out of sight.

 

Janice was a knockout in an amber-colored cocktail dress, and King reacted to her as if she was the most important thing in his life. He made sure that she had place of honor beside him at the table, and, ignoring
the puzzled looks he was getting from his parents, he made up to the striking brunette all evening.

Shelby tried to ignore them later, in the living room, with Janice standing so close to King that she seemed a part of him, but it was impossible. She felt as if she were being stabbed, it hurt so.

Kate Brannt patted her hand comfortingly when King finally took Janice outside to look at the garden.

“I'm sorry you're leaving,” Kate said gently, glancing toward the patio window where King and Janice had vanished. “King mentioned it, but when I asked why, he just stalked off without answering. Why, Shelby?”

“I came because King asked me here to recuperate,” she admitted softly. “Now, he thinks I have and he…he asked me to leave.”

“Oh,” Kate said, taken aback.

Shelby sighed miserably. “Not that
I don't want to go,” she said quickly. “Getting back to work will do me good.”

“But I thought your mother…?” Kate exclaimed.

Shelby shook her head with a smile. “There was nothing left and, in a way, I'm glad. She enjoyed her wealth. It wasn't her responsibility to provide for me all my life. I have to earn my own way, as she earned hers.”

“Oh, my dear,” Kate murmured gently.

“I think I'll go upstairs and pack,” she said, rising. “It's late and I don't feel very well.”

“I know,” Kate replied. “You have a very expressive face, Shelby. I can almost feel the hurt for you. I wish that my eldest son wasn't quite so blind.”

“Janice is King's kind of woman,” she murmured. “Poised
and sophisticated, and sure of herself. I'm none of those things. All I have is a face, and when it starts showing wrinkles, I won't have a career.” She smiled wistfully. “Sometimes I wish I'd been born ugly. At least then men wouldn't mistake me for a fashion plate without brains or emotions. I'm just a walking glossy photograph to King.”

“I'm sorry, Shelby,” Kate said, and her pale blue eyes were gentle. “I do wish things had worked out differently.”

“Is Danny coming home tonight?” she asked suddenly.

“No, dear, he called late this afternoon to tell me that Mary Kate was spending the weekend in San Antonio with a girlfriend so that the two of them could spend tomorrow with some friends in the mountains.”

Her heart sank. She needed to talk to someone; but maybe Edie would
be at the apartment. She nodded. “I still can't understand why he wanted to pretend we were engaged,” she murmured. “He really cares for Mary Kate.”

The older woman sighed. “It's a long story, my dear, and maybe I can tell you about it one day. Is King going to fly you home?”

“No!” she said quickly, flushing.

Kate nodded understandingly. “I'll drive you to town myself, Shelby, and put you on a plane. All right?”

“Thank you so much,” Shelby said genuinely.

“I only wish you weren't going. You'll come again, soon?”

“Of course,” she said politely, knowing even as she said it that she never would.

She went out into the hall just as King and Janice came back in. He drew the sleek brunette close by his side, and his face was liberally
stained with pale pink lipstick. One eyebrow went up at the drawn look on Shelby's face.

“Turning in?” he asked coolly.

She nodded. “It…it's late, and I have to get an early start in the morning. I'm modeling in a fall showing of Jomar fashions.”

“Jomar! How lovely,” Janice cooed, “I do adore his designs.”

“So do I,” Shelby admitted, “although I only get to model them. I couldn't afford even a blouse with that label.”

“You should have tried a little harder, honey,” King said with a malicious smile. “You came closer than you knew.”

“What?” Shelby asked softly, blinking at the sharp cut of his voice.

His eyes narrowed. “Your mother didn't leave you anything but a handful of debts, did she, Shelby? And you made damned sure I didn't know
about it. Are you going to try and convince me that you didn't have a wedding ring in mind when you played up to me? God, I could have solved all your problems, couldn't I?”

Shelby's face went paper white. Where had he gotten such a ridiculous idea…her eyes turned toward Janice's face and caught the tail end of a triumphant smile.

“I read all about it in my latest issue of the Hollywood news,” Janice said sweetly. “Didn't you think it would come out about how poor your mother was when she killed herself?”

Ashen, Shelby turned and started wearily up the stairs.

“It was suicide, wasn't it?” Janice persisted. “How sad. I suppose it's some kind of inherent weakness. Hereditary, probably, too. Do you have suicidal tendencies, Shelby?”

“Let's have a drink,” King said suddenly, drawing Janice toward the living room. “Let the little girl go to bed.”

“Anything you say, sugar,” Janice cooed.

Shelby went into her room and closed the door behind her.

 

King was still upstairs when she left the ranch the next morning in Kate Brannt's car, dry-eyed. This time the hurt had gone too deep for tears.

The days went by in a blur of activity as Shelby threw herself into her work with a vengeance. Edie tried tactfully to slow her down, but nothing would make her slacken the breakneck pace. Finally, in desperation, Edie appealed to Danny, who showed up early one Friday night as Shelby was getting ready to model at an evening fashion show.

“I'm sorry, Danny, I haven't time to talk,” she said, feverishly sweeping the apartment in the sleek, sequined black dress she was to show, looking everywhere for the small matching purse. “I only have an hour.”

“It won't take an hour,” he said quietly. His eyes studied her closely. “You're going to fall down if you don't slow down,” he said. “You're nothing but skin and bones.”

“My diet…”

“Don't be funny, I'm not buying it.” He jammed his hands in the pockets of his beige trousers. “He's really outdone himself this time.”

“He, who?” she muttered as she searched under a sofa cushion and produced the missing bag.

“You know who. What did King say to you this time?”

“He said go home. And I did. End
of story.” She smiled at him. “Want to come watch me work?”

He returned the smile, but without enthusiasm. “Just, go home?” he persisted.

“That's it. Don't third-degree me, okay?”

“He looks worse than you do,” he said.

Her heart jumped, but she nerved herself not to care what King looked like.

“He works too hard,” she replied.

“Both of you.” Still watching her, he dropped down into an armchair and leaned forward, propping his forearms across his knees. “I tried to fly out to California when your mother died, did King ever tell you?”

She shook her head, making a big production of rearranging one small strand of hair at her ear in the hall mirror.

“He wouldn't let me come.” He
laughed softly. “My God, I've never seen King move that fast in all my life. He'd cancelled two meetings, passed up a filly he'd have killed for at a foundation sale, had the plane serviced and was airborne less than fifteen minutes after he heard you'd gone to California for the funeral.”

She turned, staring at him. “But…he hates me,” she said unsteadily.

“Then hating you must do strange things to him,” Danny told her, “because he hasn't been himself for the past six months. All anybody had to do was mention your name and he'd fly into a rage. He's been like that ever since your last visit, when you left walking in the middle of the night.” He eyed her quietly. “You didn't know that he spent the better part of three hours looking for you all over the ranch that night, did you? Or that he rousted ten of the boys out of
bed to help him? Or that, when he found out you were all right, he took a bottle of bourbon whiskey to bed with him and couldn't lift his head the next morning.”

Her face was pale when he finished, but she couldn't manage a single word.

“So mother and I figured that what was wrong with King was you,” he continued. “And we came up with the idea of pretending you were engaged to me, just to see what effect it would have.” He shook his head. “Boy,” he said, “what an effect it had!”

“He just didn't want you getting mixed up with somebody like me,” she murmured. “He told me so.”

“Bull,” he grumbled. “He couldn't stand the idea of your marrying me because he wanted you himself.”

“He's got a girlfriend,” she replied, turning away.

“Janice, you mean?” he replied foxily. “How strange that he hasn't gone near her since the night you left.”

“I don't care,” she told him, her brown eyes wide and cool, despite her inner turmoil. “I never want to see King again as long as I live, Danny!”

He grinned. “You do love him!”

“Oh!” She turned away and opened the door. “I've really got to go, Danny. I have this show tonight, and another one at Jim Almond's in the morning,” she added, naming one of the exclusive department stores downtown.

“All right. I'll be back. No hard feelings, Shelby?” he asked, serious now.

She smiled at him. “I like you very much. You can't really help it that
you've got a rattlesnake for a brother.”

He chuckled. “That's big of you,” he said.

She sighed. “It truly is. See you.”

 

All the rest of the night, her mind was on what Danny had told her. It would have been so wonderful if he'd been right—if King had cared. But she knew all too well that he didn't. He wanted her, which was something entirely different. And he didn't want her around him even though she attracted him physically. She really believed that he did hate her. And the ache was as potent as an open wound with salt in it.

The Jomar showing at Jim Almond's was exciting. He was one of Shelby's favorite designers, and she had an affection for the wiry little New Yorker.

She enjoyed the fit of the clothes
so well that she paid more attention to the announcer's description of what she was wearing than she did to the music or the people in the audience as she went down the aisle.

“…and it's the Western look this fall,” the announcer was cooing, “with mix and match skirts and blouses. Here's Shelby in a two-piece casual suede suit, featuring a split skirt highlighted by cowgirl boots and a tasseled vest with a cream colored silk blouse and brown and cream necktie. Isn't she the picture of Western vitality?” the graying female announcer continued.

Shelby moved down the runway, opening the vest, gesturing toward the leather boots as she paused at the first row of chairs…and almost tripped when she spotted the tall, quiet man on the aisle wearing an elegantly cut brown casual suit with real cowboy boots and a cream-
colored Stetson in the chair beside him.