CHAPTER TWO
Justin tucked a wad of bills into Shelby’s purse when he stopped the Thunderbird on the side of the road near Mrs. Simpson’s house. She tried to protest, but he simply smoked his cigarette and ignored her.
“I told you earlier that the money was between you and me,” he said quietly, his dark eyes challenging as he cut the engine. He turned in the bucket seat, his long legs stretched out as he touched the power-window switch on the console panel. It was a rural road, and sparsely traveled. He had stopped under a spreading oak tree. He hooked his elbow on the open window to study Shelby narrowly. “I meant it. If you want to look on it as a loan, that’s up to you.”
She chewed on her lower lip. “I’ll be able to pay you back one day,” she said doggedly, even though she knew better. With what she made, it was going to be a struggle to eat and pay the rent. New clothes might become impossible.
“I’m not worried about it.”
“Yes, but I am.” She looked up, all her misgivings in her green eyes. “Oh, Justin, what am I going to do?” she moaned. “I’m alone for the first time in my life. Ty’s in Arizona, I have no family…” She got a grip on herself, averting her eyes. “It’s just panic,” she said tightly. “Just fear. I’ll get used to it. I’m sorry I said that.”
He didn’t speak. He’d never seen Shelby helpless. She’d always been poised and calm. It was new and faintly disturbing to see her frightened.
“If things get too rough,” he replied quietly, “you can move in with me.”
She laughed hollowly. “That would do our reputations a world of good.”
He blew out a cloud of smoke. “If gossip bothers you all that much, we can get married.” He said it carelessly, but his eyes were sharp on her face.
She knew she wasn’t breathing. She looked at him as the old wounds opened with a vengeance. “Why?” she asked.
He didn’t want to answer her. He didn’t want to admit, even to himself, that he was still vulnerable. He shrugged. “You need a place to stay. I’m tired of living alone. Since Abby and Calhoun moved out, the damned house is like a mausoleum.”
“You feel sorry for me,” she accused.
He took another draw from the cigarette. “Maybe I do. So what? Right now you don’t have many options. Either you borrow from me to afford Mrs. Simpson’s boarding house, or you marry me.” He studied the tip of the cigarette. “Of course, you can always go back to that converted storeroom over Barry Holman’s office and show him that you’re available—”
“You stop that,” she muttered. She shifted restlessly. “Mr. Holman isn’t that kind of man. And you have no reason to feel possessive about me.”
“Haven’t I?” His black eyes searched hers. “But I am, just the same. And I remember your saying the same thing about me. We were engaged once, Shelby. That kind of involvement doesn’t go away.”
“Some involvement,” she said with a tired sigh. “I never could decide why you wanted to marry me.”
“You were a feather in my cap,” he said coldly, lying through his teeth. “A rich sophisticate. I was just a country boy with stars in my eyes, and you took me for a hell of a ride, lady. Now it’s my turn. I’ve got money and you haven’t.” His dark eyes narrowed. “And don’t think I want to marry you out of some lingering passion.”
He hadn’t forgotten. It was in his eyes, his whole look. He’d marry her and make her hunger for a love he’d never felt, couldn’t feel for her. He held her in contempt because he thought she’d slept with Tom Wheelor, and that was the biggest joke of all. She was still a virgin, and wouldn’t it throw a stick into his spokes to find that out the hard way?
“No.” She sighed, belatedly answering his question. “I’m not stupid enough to think you still want me, after what I did to your pride.” She lifted her eyes to study the proud, arrogant set of his dark head, his eyes shadowed by the Stetson he always wore. “I used to think you cared for me a little, even though you never said you did.”
That was the truth. She’d never really been sure why he wanted to marry her. Except for that one night, he hadn’t been wild to try to get her into bed, and he’d never seemed emotionally involved, either. But she’d been so in love with him that she had not realized how relatively uninvolved he’d seemed until after their engagement had been broken.
He ignored her remarks. “If you want security, I can give it to you,” he said quietly. “I’ve got money now, although I’ll never be in the same class as your father was. He had millions.”
She closed her eyes on a wave of shame. She had her father and her own naïveté to thank for Justin’s bitterness. But Justin wanted revenge and she’d be a fool to deliver herself on a silver platter to him. “No, Justin. I can’t marry you,” she said after a minute. Her hand reached for the door handle. “It was a crazy idea!” She averted her face so that all he could see of it was her profile.
He put his hand over hers briefly, holding it, and then withdrew his fingers almost as quickly. His expression hardened. “It’s a big house,” he said. “With Calhoun and Abby living down the road, there’s only Lopez and Maria living with me. You wouldn’t need to work if you didn’t want to, and you’d have security.”
He was offering her heaven, except that it was impersonal on his part. More than anything else, he felt sorry for her. But under the pity was a darker need; she could feel it. Something in him wanted revenge for her rejection six years ago. His pride wanted restitution. Well, didn’t she owe him that, she wondered bitterly, after what her father had cost him? And she’d be near him. She’d have meals with him. She could sit with him in the evenings while he watched television. She could sleep under the same roof. Her hungry heart wanted that, so badly. Too badly.
“I don’t guess you’d…I don’t suppose you’d ever want a…” She couldn’t even say it. A child, she was thinking, although God only knew how she’d manage to deal with what had to happen to produce one.
“I won’t want a divorce,” he said, misunderstanding her thoughts. His eyes narrowed. “I’m not exactly Mr. America, in case you haven’t noticed. And I don’t want a woman I have to buy, unless it’s on my terms.”
That sounded suspiciously like a dig at her, because she’d refused him for what he thought was a lack of money. Her eyes lifted to his. “Do you still hate me, Justin?” she asked; she needed to know.
He stared at her without speaking for a long moment, quietly smoking his cigarette. “I’m not sure what I feel.”
That reply was honest enough, even if it wasn’t a declaration of undying love. There were so many wounds between them, so much bitterness. It was probably an insane thing to do, but she couldn’t resist the temptation.
She stared at his cigarette instead of at him. “I’ll marry you, then, if you mean it.”
He didn’t move, but something inside him went wild at the words. She couldn’t know how many nights he’d spent aching for just the sight of her, how desperately he wanted her near him. But he could never trust her again, and that was the hell of it. She was just a stray person, he told himself. Just someone who needed help. He had to think of her that way, and not want the moon. She might even play up to him out of gratitude, so he’d have to be on his guard every minute. But, oh, God, he wanted her so!
“Then we don’t need to see Mrs. Simpson until we’ve had time to make plans.” He started the car, pulled out onto the road and turned the Thunderbird toward the feedlot and his house. His hands had a perceptible tremor. He gripped the steering wheel hard to keep Shelby from seeing how her answer affected him.
If Maria and Lopez were shocked to see Shelby with Justin, they didn’t say anything. Lopez vanished into the kitchen while Maria fussed over Shelby, bringing coffee and pastries into the living room where Justin sprawled in his armchair and Shelby perched nervously on the edge of the sofa.
“Thank you, Maria,” Shelby said with a warm smile.
The Mexican woman smiled back. “It is my pleasure, señorita. I will be in the kitchen if you need me, señor,” she added to Justin before she went out, discreetly closing the door behind her.
Shelby noticed that Justin didn’t comment on Maria’s obvious conclusions. Perhaps Maria thought he might want to wrestle her down onto the sofa, but Shelby knew better. Justin had done that once, and only once. And she’d been so frightened that she’d reacted stupidly. She’d never forgiven herself for that. Justin had probably thought she found his ardor distasteful, and that was the last thing it had been.
She sighed, lowering her eyes to his black boots. They weren’t working boots; they were the ones he wore when he dressed up. He had such big feet and hands. She smiled, remembering how it had been when they’d first started dating. They’d been like children, fascinated with each other’s company, both of them a little shy and reserved. It had never gone beyond kisses except the night they got engaged.
“I said, do you want some coffee?” Justin repeated pointedly, holding the silver coffeepot over a cup he’d just filled.
“Oh. Yes, thank you.” She took it black, and apparently he remembered her preference, because he didn’t offer her any cream or sugar. He poured his own cup full, put a dash of cream in it and sat back with the china cup and saucer balanced on his crossed knee.
Shelby glanced at him and wondered how she could contemplate living under the same roof with him. He was so unapproachable. Obviously he wanted revenge. She’d be a fool to give him that much rope to hang her with.
On the other hand, if she was living with him, she had a better chance than ever of changing his mind about her. All she really had to do to prove her innocence was to get him into bed. But that was the whole problem. She was scared to death of intimacy.
“Why the blush?” he asked, watching her.
She cleared her throat. “It’s warm in here,” she said.
“Is it?” He laughed mirthlessly and sipped his coffee. “In case you wondered, you’ll have your own room. I won’t expect any repayment for giving you a home.”
The blush went scarlet. She had to fight not to fling her cup at him. “You’re making me sound like a charity case.”
“I’ll bet that rankles,” he agreed. “But Tyler can’t help you and hold down a job at the same time. And you’ll never make it on what Holman pays you, with all due respect to him. Secretaries in small towns don’t make much.”
“I’m not mercenary,” she said defensively.
“Sure,” he replied. He sipped his coffee without another word.
“Listen, Justin, it was all my father’s idea, that fake engagement to Tom Wheelor—”
“Your father would never have done that to me,” he interrupted coldly, and his eyes went black, threatening as he leaned forward. “Don’t try to use him for a scapegoat just because he’s dead. He was one of the best friends I had.”
That’s what you think, she mused bitterly. Obviously it wasn’t going to do any good to talk to him. Just because her father had put on a show of liking him was no reason to put the man on a pedestal. God only knew why Justin had such respect for a man who’d caused him years of bitter humiliation.
“You’ll never trust me again, will you?” she asked softly.
He studied her lovely face, her pale green eyes staring at him, her gaze burning into his soul. “No,” he replied with the honesty that was as much a part of him as his craggy face and thick black hair. “There’s too much water under the bridge. But if you think I’m nursing a broken heart, don’t. I found you out just a little too soon. My pride suffered, but you never touched my heart.”
“I don’t imagine any woman ever got close enough to do that,” she said, her voice soft. She traced the rim of the china cup. “Abby told me once that you haven’t dated anyone for a long time.”
“I’m thirty-seven years old,” he reminded her. “I sowed my wild oats years ago, even before I started going with you.” He finished his coffee and put the cup down. His black eyes met hers in a direct gaze. “And we both know that you’ve sown yours, and who with.”
“You don’t know me at all, Justin,” she said. “You never did. You said I was a status symbol to you, and looking back, I guess I was, at that.” She laughed bitterly. “You used to take me around to your friends to show me off, and I felt like one of those purebred horses Ty used to take to the steeplechase.”
He stared at her over his smoking cigarette. “I took you around because you were pretty and sweet, and I liked being with you,” he said heavily. “That was a lot of garbage about wanting you for a status symbol.”
She leaned back wearily. “Thank you for telling me,” she said. “But I guess it doesn’t matter now, does it?” She finished her coffee and put the cup down. “Are we going to have a church wedding?” she asked.
“Aren’t we a little old for that kind of ceremony?” he asked.
“I can see you’re still eating live rattlesnakes to keep your venom potent,” she said without flinching. “I want a church wedding.”
He dusted the long ash from his cigarette into an ashtray. “It would be quicker to go to a justice of the peace.”
“I’m not pregnant,” she reminded him, averting her self-conscious face. “There’s no great rush, is there?”
She was tying him up in knots. He glared at her. “All right, have your church wedding. You can stay at Mrs. Simpson’s until we’re married, just to keep everything discreet.” His dark eyes narrowed as he got up and crushed out his cigarette. “There’s just one thing. Don’t you come down that aisle in a white dress. If you dare, I’ll walk out the front door of the church and keep going.”
She lifted her chin. “Don’t you know what every woman in the congregation will think?”
The soft accusation in her green eyes made him feel guilty. He was still hurt by Shelby’s affair with Tom Wheelor. He’d wanted to sting her, but he hadn’t counted on the wounded look in her eyes.
“You can wear something cream-colored,” he muttered reluctantly.
Her lower lip trembled. “Take me to bed.” Her eyes dared him, even though she went scarlet and shuddered at her own boldness. “If you think I’m lying about being innocent, I can prove I’m telling the truth!”
His black eyes cut back to hers, unblinking. “You know as well as I do that it takes a doctor to establish virginity. Even an experienced man can’t tell.”
Her face colored. She could have told him that in her case, it would be more than normally evident, and that her doctor could so easily settle all his doubts. She started to, despite her embarrassment at discussing such an intimate subject, but before she could open her mouth, there was a quick knock at the door and Lopez came in with a message for Justin.
“I’ve got some cattle out in the road,” he told Shelby. “Come on. I’ll run you over to Mrs. Simpson’s first. You can call Abby and make plans for the wedding. She’ll be glad to help with the invitations and such.”
She didn’t even argue. She was too drained. They were going to be married, but he was going to see to it that she was publicly disgraced, like an adultress being paraded through the streets.
Her teeth ground together as they went out to the car. Well, she’d get around him somehow. She wasn’t going to wear anything except a white gown to walk down that aisle. And if he left her standing there, all right. Maybe he didn’t even mean what he’d said. She had to keep believing that, for the sake of her pride. He didn’t know, and she’d hurt him badly. But, oh, how different things had been six years ago.
Shelby had known the Ballengers all her life. Ty, her brother, and Calhoun, Justin’s brother, were friends. That meant that she naturally saw Justin from time to time. At first he’d been cold and very standoffish, but Shelby had thought of him as a challenge. She’d started teasing him gently, flirting shyly. And the change in him had been devastating.
They’d gone to a Halloween party at a mutual friend’s, and someone had handed Shelby a guitar. To Justin’s amazement, she’d played it easily, trying to slow down enough to adjust to the rather inept efforts of their host, who was learning to play lead guitar.
Without a word, Justin had perched himself on a chair beside her and held out his hand. Their host, with a grin that Shelby hadn’t understood at the time, gave the instrument to Justin. He nodded to Shelby, tapped out the meter with his booted foot and launched into a rendition of San Antonio Rose that brought the house down.
After the first shock wore off, Shelby’s long, graceful fingers caught up the rhythm and seconded him to perfection. He looked into her eyes as they wound to a finish, and he smiled. And at that moment, Shelby gave him her heart.
It wasn’t a sudden thing, really. She’d known for years how kind he was. He’d just taken Abby in and given her a home when the girl’s mother and Mr. Ballenger had died in a tragic car wreck. Justin was always around when someone needed a helping hand, and there wasn’t a more generous or harder working man in Jacobsville. He had a temper, too, but he controlled it most of the time, and his men respected him because he didn’t ask them to do anything he wasn’t willing to do himself. He was the boss, along with Calhoun, but Justin was always the first to arrive and the last to leave when there was a job to be done. He had many admirable qualities, and Shelby was young and impressionable, and just at the right age to fall hopelessly in love with an older man.
After that night, she seemed to see Justin everywhere. At the restaurant where she had lunch with a friend on Tuesdays and Thursdays, at social events, at charity bazaars, where she went riding on trails that wound near the Ballenger property. It didn’t occur to her to wonder why such a reclusive, hard-working man suddenly had so much free time and spent it at places she was known to frequent. She was in love, and every second spent with Justin fed her hungry heart.
She hadn’t thought he was interested in her at first. They had a lot in common, despite their very different backgrounds, and he seemed to enjoy talking to her.
Then, very suddenly, everything changed. They were walking down the trail, near where they’d tied their horses, and Justin had suddenly stopped walking to lean against a tree. He didn’t say a word, but the expression in his eyes spoke volumes. He had a smoking cigarette in one hand, but he held out the other one to Shelby.
Shelby didn’t know what to expect when she took it. Her heart was hammering and she looked at his mouth and wanted it obsessively. Perhaps he knew that, but he didn’t take advantage of it.
He pulled her closer. Only their hands were touching. Then, his black eyes searching her soft green ones, he bent slowly, giving her all the time in the world to pull back, to hesitate, to show him that she didn’t want him.
But she did. She stood very still as his hard lips brushed hers, her eyes open, watching him. He lifted his head and searched her eyes.
He dropped the cigarette and ground it out under his boot while her heart went crazy. His arms slid around her, bringing her against him but not intimately. He bent again and kissed her with tenderness and respect, with soft wonder. She kissed him back the same way, her arms around his shoulders, her mind sinking into layers of pleasure.
He drew back a minute later and let her go without a word. He took her hand in his and they started walking.
“Do you want a big wedding, or will a civil service do?” he asked as easily as if they were discussing the weather.
And just that quickly they were engaged. That night they went back to her house and told her father. Although his first expression was explosive, they didn’t see it. He turned away long enough to compose himself, and then he made happy conversation and welcomed Justin into the family. Justin took Shelby home to share the news with Calhoun and Abby, but Abby was spending the night with a girlfriend and Calhoun had flown to Oklahoma to see a man on business.
They’d had the house to themselves. Shelby remembered so vividly how they’d laughed and toasted their future happiness. Then he’d drawn her to him and kissed her in a very different way, and she’d blushed at the intimacy of his tongue probing delicately inside her lips.
“We’re going to be married,” he’d whispered with open delight at her innocence. “I won’t hurt you.”
“I know.” She buried her face in his white silk shirt. “But it’s so new, being like this with you.”
“It’s new for me, too,” he breathed. His chest rose and fell heavily. He moved her hands a little to the side of the buttons on his shirt and pressed them hard against him while he flipped buttons out of buttonholes and then guided her fingers to the thick mat of hair that covered his muscular, suntanned chest.
“Now,” he breathed. “Touch me, Shelby.”
She was shocked at this new intimacy, but when he bent and took her mouth under his, she forgot the shock and relaxed against him. Her fingers curled, liking the feel of him, the smell of him that lingered like spice in her nostrils.
“Harder,” he whispered roughly. He pressed her hands closer and when she looked up, there was an expression in his eyes that she’d never seen in the weeks they’d been going together. Something wild and out of control was visible there. She trembled a little at that glimpse of desire she hadn’t expected to find in such a controlled man.
Then his hand went under her nape, lifting her up to his mouth, and he took her lips in brief, biting kisses that had an unexpected, unbelievable effect on her. She moaned helplessly, frightened at the new sensations.
But to Justin, a moan had a totally different meaning. He thought she was as immersed in pleasure as he was, and his mouth grew suddenly invasive, insistent. His hands dropped to Shelby’s slender hips and suddenly lifted her against him into an embrace that shocked her senseless.
She knew very little about men and intimacy, but the changed contours of Justin’s hard body told her graphically what he was feeling. He groaned into her mouth as he moved against her in blatant arousal.
She struggled, but he was strong and half out of his mind with unbridled passion. He didn’t realize that she was trying to get away until she dragged her mouth away from his and pushed at him, begging him to stop.
He lifted his head, breathing roughly, his eyes black with frustration.
“Shelby…” he ground out in agony.
“Let me go!” she moaned. “Please…Justin, don’t!”
“I’ll stop before we go all the way,” he whispered against her mouth, and bent to kiss her again. Her protests muffled under his warm, drugging mouth, he lifted her off the floor and carried her to the sofa, putting her down gently, full-length, on its soft cushions.
He shuddered with unbearable need, his mouth rough as it pressed against hers. His body slid over her, pushing her into the cushions, heavy and hard and intimate. She felt his sudden loss of control with real fear. She knew what could happen, and that they were engaged. He might not try very hard to stop.
“Justin!”
“I’m not going to take your chastity, Shelby,” he breathed into her mouth. His brows drew together in agonized pleasure as his hands slid over her hips. “Oh, God, honey, don’t hold back with me. Let me love you. Kiss me back…”
The words died against her soft mouth. He kissed her with growing hunger, his loss of control evident in the urgent movement of his hips against hers, his hands suddenly searching as they moved over her soft breasts. Then his knee moved between her legs and she panicked.
She began to fight him, afraid of the unfamiliar intimacy that was beyond her experience. She pushed at him. All at once, he seemed to feel her resistance. He lifted his head, his eyes blazing with black hunger, and just stared at her for an instant, disoriented. Then when he saw the rejection, felt it in the stiffness of her body, he suddenly tore away from her and got to his feet. By the time she was able to breathe again, he was standing several feet away smoking a cigarette. Several tense minutes passed before he turned around again to pour brandy into two snifters. He gave her one and smiled mockingly at the way she avoided touching him.
He turned away from her to stare out the window while he sipped his brandy. His back was ramrod stiff. “We’ll sleep together when we’re married,” he said. “I hope you know that I don’t plan on separate rooms.”
“I know.” She sipped her own drink with shaking hands, wanting to explain, but his attitude was hardly welcoming. “Justin…I’m a virgin.”
“Don’t you think I knew that?” he asked tersely. He looked at her and his expression was a cold and totally unreadable mask, hiding emotions she couldn’t even guess at. “My God, we’re going to be married. Do I have to stop touching you altogether until the ring’s on your finger?”
She started to speak and lowered her eyes to her glass. She stiffened. “Perhaps…it might be wiser.”
“Considering my lack of control, I suppose you mean.” He said it icily, in a tone she’d never heard him use. He drank his brandy and after a while, the anger seemed to go out of him, to Shelby’s relief. He didn’t apologize, but he went to her and took her hand gently, smiling at her as if nothing at all had happened. They drank brandy, and he taught her a Mexican drinking song as the aftereffects of the evening and the potency of the aged brandy began to work on them. Maria and Lopez had chanced to come home then from a party and Justin had taken Shelby home. Maria had been raging at him in Spanish, and Shelby only found out later that the song he’d been teaching her wasn’t one she could ever sing in public.
She’d looked forward to the wedding with joy and also with apprehension. Justin’s passion had unsettled her and made her doubt her ability to match him. He was experienced and she wasn’t, and she was more afraid than ever of having him make love to her when he was totally out of control.
But there was no cause for alarm, because there was no more heated lovemaking. The most ardent move he made for days afterward was to kiss her cheek or hold hands with her, and all the while, those black eyes wandered over her with the strangest searching expression. She relaxed and began to enjoy his company again, losing her nervousness since he wasn’t making any more demands on her.
Then, suddenly, her father had put an end to it. Give up Justin, he’d demanded, or watch him lose everything he had. Justin would end up hating her, her father had said. He’d blame her for making him poor and their marriage wouldn’t stand a chance. His pride alone would kill it.
She’d been very young and unworldly, and her father was an old hand at getting what he wanted. He’d enlisted aid from Tom Wheelor, who was motivated by the thought of a beneficial merger. And she’d done what her father asked and lied to Justin, admitted to having an affair with Tom, to wanting wealth and position, things that Justin couldn’t give her.
So long ago, she thought. So much pain. She’d only been protecting Justin, trying to spare him the agony of losing everything he and his family had worked so long and so hard to achieve. But in the process, she’d sacrificed her own happiness. She had only herself to blame for Justin’s cold attitude. And not only did she blame herself for her betrayal, but she also hadn’t been honest with him about the reasons she’d been afraid to let him touch her.
Now he was going to marry her out of pity, not out of love. And, too, there was always his wish for revenge. She didn’t know how she was going to live with him, but only proximity was going to change his mind about her. And living with him would be so sweet. Even though she couldn’t be the kind of woman he needed, it was all of heaven to be near him. Maybe one day she’d find the courage to tell him the truth about herself, to make him understand.
All her doubts were back. But she’d given her word to go through with the wedding, and she couldn’t back down now. She was going to have to make the best of it, and hope that Justin’s thirst for revenge wasn’t prompting his decision to marry her.