good reasons, he had Lariat and his family to think of. His first responsibility was to them, and they were in one hellacious financial pickle now, thanks to Bessâs father.
He was surprised, too, at her continuing attraction to him. He thought heâd convinced her that he didnât want her. But she still looked at him with those soft, sweet eyes that made him burn from head to toe. It had provoked him into near-violence once, and heâd humiliated her in a way that still haunted him. At the time it had seemed necessary to get her off the track, but now...
He stood up abruptly, irritated by her sudden, jerky backward movement. It angered him beyond all reason.
âFor Godâs sake,â he burst out, eyes blazing.
She bit her lower lip, her wide eyes searching his with faint apprehension.
He saw the fear and hated it. He had to control a wild urge to grab her, to bring her close and kiss the breath out of her and teach her not to be afraid of him. But he couldnât do that, and the knowledge made him wild. He crushed out the cigarette with muted violence.
âDonât flatter yourself, honey,â he said bitingly. âYouâre hardly enough to make a man drunk with passion.â
Heâd made that clear long ago, so she didnât take offense. She looked down at her feet, her expression faintly defeated. âI know that already,â she said. There was simply no fight in her, and that bothered him most of all. She was so damned vulnerable.
She looked up at him then with soft brown eyes that shot every scruple he had. The look burned between them like fire, ripping away his will, his restraint. All at once his hand shot out to catch her arm. He swung her around, right up against him, so that she could feel the warmth of his hard, fit body and see the faint beads of sweat clinging to the thick dark hair on his chest.
âIs that your best offer?â he asked deeply, and his eyes at close range were dynamite. He saw the puzzled look in her eyes and cursed himself for saying such a thing to her. She was so damned green, she didnât even know what he was talking about.
âYou mean the pearls?â she got out. âWell, everything else is gone already, except for some of Mamaâs jewelry...â
He stared at her with unbridled contempt. âAnd of course, Mama wonât give up her jewels, even to pay a debt, isnât that right?â
She felt herself going limp, feeling weary of defending her mother to him. âCade, canât you find it in your heart to talk to me without making horribly sarcastic remarks about my mother?â Her big eyes pleaded with him.
He saw the tiredness then. Saw how the funeral had affected her. She was becoming far too pale, too thin, too worn for a woman her age. Like a leech, her mother had sapped her, robbed her of a normal girlhood. His dark eyes narrowed. He wondered if sheâd ever realized that his sarcasm was more defensive than offensive.
His dark eyes moved over her like hands, exploring the roundness of her breasts and hips and her small waist. He knew what she felt. Even now she was almost trembling as he looked at her. She wanted him.
But wanting wouldnât be enough. There was still Gussie and Bessâs lost lifestyle and her own inability to stand up to her own problems. In her present state heâd walk all over her because she had hardly any spirit. That hurt him, to think that he could do even more damage to her spirit than Gussie had. He had a quick, hot temper that he wasnât shy about losing. Bess would knuckle under. The woman she could be would be submerged in his own strength.
There was a hunger in her soft brown eyes that he felt an urgent need to satisfy. He had to get her out of here, and quick.
But she smelled of gardenias and she looked as if he was every dream of perfection sheâd ever had. Her eyes were making love to his, soft and hungry. Virgin eyes.
He touched a
He was surprised, too, at her continuing attraction to him. He thought heâd convinced her that he didnât want her. But she still looked at him with those soft, sweet eyes that made him burn from head to toe. It had provoked him into near-violence once, and heâd humiliated her in a way that still haunted him. At the time it had seemed necessary to get her off the track, but now...
He stood up abruptly, irritated by her sudden, jerky backward movement. It angered him beyond all reason.
âFor Godâs sake,â he burst out, eyes blazing.
She bit her lower lip, her wide eyes searching his with faint apprehension.
He saw the fear and hated it. He had to control a wild urge to grab her, to bring her close and kiss the breath out of her and teach her not to be afraid of him. But he couldnât do that, and the knowledge made him wild. He crushed out the cigarette with muted violence.
âDonât flatter yourself, honey,â he said bitingly. âYouâre hardly enough to make a man drunk with passion.â
Heâd made that clear long ago, so she didnât take offense. She looked down at her feet, her expression faintly defeated. âI know that already,â she said. There was simply no fight in her, and that bothered him most of all. She was so damned vulnerable.
She looked up at him then with soft brown eyes that shot every scruple he had. The look burned between them like fire, ripping away his will, his restraint. All at once his hand shot out to catch her arm. He swung her around, right up against him, so that she could feel the warmth of his hard, fit body and see the faint beads of sweat clinging to the thick dark hair on his chest.
âIs that your best offer?â he asked deeply, and his eyes at close range were dynamite. He saw the puzzled look in her eyes and cursed himself for saying such a thing to her. She was so damned green, she didnât even know what he was talking about.
âYou mean the pearls?â she got out. âWell, everything else is gone already, except for some of Mamaâs jewelry...â
He stared at her with unbridled contempt. âAnd of course, Mama wonât give up her jewels, even to pay a debt, isnât that right?â
She felt herself going limp, feeling weary of defending her mother to him. âCade, canât you find it in your heart to talk to me without making horribly sarcastic remarks about my mother?â Her big eyes pleaded with him.
He saw the tiredness then. Saw how the funeral had affected her. She was becoming far too pale, too thin, too worn for a woman her age. Like a leech, her mother had sapped her, robbed her of a normal girlhood. His dark eyes narrowed. He wondered if sheâd ever realized that his sarcasm was more defensive than offensive.
His dark eyes moved over her like hands, exploring the roundness of her breasts and hips and her small waist. He knew what she felt. Even now she was almost trembling as he looked at her. She wanted him.
But wanting wouldnât be enough. There was still Gussie and Bessâs lost lifestyle and her own inability to stand up to her own problems. In her present state heâd walk all over her because she had hardly any spirit. That hurt him, to think that he could do even more damage to her spirit than Gussie had. He had a quick, hot temper that he wasnât shy about losing. Bess would knuckle under. The woman she could be would be submerged in his own strength.
There was a hunger in her soft brown eyes that he felt an urgent need to satisfy. He had to get her out of here, and quick.
But she smelled of gardenias and she looked as if he was every dream of perfection sheâd ever had. Her eyes were making love to his, soft and hungry. Virgin eyes.
He touched a
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