Chapter Eight
Jeff wore a navy blue suit to the dance, with a spotless white shirt and blue paisley tie. He looked very elegant, his blond hair shining like gold under the lights in the Raven Springs community center.
Beside him, Meadow looked unusually seductive. The dark-haired, dark-eyed man standing at the punch bowl found himself staring helplessly at her, drinking in the way she looked in that close-fitted red dress. He’d taunted her about the dresses because he couldn’t forget the way she tasted. That last Christmas dance she’d attended, when he’d kissed her, had colored his life since. Even Dana, with all her wiles, couldn’t erase the memory. Or the pleasure. The kiss they’d shared after her date with Jeff worked on his mind even more because it was fresher in his mind. He’d wanted her for a long time. Lately, it was getting worse.
And there she was, with Jeff, clinging to his arm, looking as if she belonged to him. He hated even the idea that she was sleeping with him. He wondered if she was. She looked . . . loved.
“Why are you glaring at Jeff’s new deputy?” Dana chided.
“She looks ridiculous in that dress,” he lied. “Like a prostitute looking for a street corner.”
Dana’s eyebrows arched. That was acrimonious, even for Dal. But she shrugged it off. Everybody knew that he couldn’t stand Meadow. His cat kept going to her house, as her dog kept going to his. Someone should do something about those animals.
“She needs to keep that dog on a chain,” Dana muttered.
“What dog?” he asked, his eyes still glued to Meadow.
“Her dog! That husky.”
“Oh. Snow lives inside.”
“Well, she gets out, doesn’t she?” Dana asked haughtily. “And every time, she runs straight to you.”
“She likes me.”
Dana pressed close to his side. “I like you, too.”
He shrugged. “I did suggest that she nail the dog door shut at night.”
“Did she do it?”
“I guess,” Dal replied. “Snow hasn’t come calling anymore.”
She noticed that he’d already filled a second glass with whiskey and soda. “You don’t usually drink so much,” she pointed out.
“Don’t nag,” he said shortly.
She drew in a breath. “Jeff looks very nice,” she said aloud, sketching him with her eyes.
“So do you.”
She laughed, surprised by the comment. She looked up at him. She knew the little black cocktail dress outlined her full figure in the nicest way. But it was good to hear the compliment, just the same. Dal wasn’t known for flattery. Not that he hadn’t flattered her more than usual since Meadow had returned to Raven Springs.
“Thanks,” she said.
“I’m starved,” he commented. “Let’s see what we can find on the buffet table.”
“Great idea!”
* * *
Gil showed up minutes later, in a dark gray suit with a flashy red tie. He grinned at Meadow as he joined her and his boss in the crowd.
“There are a lot of people here,” the deputy commented, his black eyes flashing with humor. “I almost didn’t find a parking space.”
“They’d like to enlarge the parking lot, but the land they’d need belongs to Ned Turner, and he’d never sell an inch,” Jeff said with a sigh. “He doesn’t even like the idea of the community center itself. He says the noise every weekend drives him nuts.” He threw up his hands. “If he hates it so much, why doesn’t he just move farther into the national forest?”
“I expect he’d need a lot of legal paperwork done to get permission,” Meadow added. “But the Forest Service does sometimes trade parcels of land. If there’s some they like, they’ll trade land for it. Somebody with land they want might sell it to them in return for ownership of the tract next to the community center.”
“That’s resourceful thinking,” Jeff said, smiling as he locked Meadow’s cool fingers into his.
She smiled back. “Thanks.”
“Hello, Jeff,” Dana Conyers said with an amused smile as she joined them with a whiskey highball in one hand. She was wearing a black lacy cocktail dress, her dark hair loose around her shoulders. She looked very pretty, something Jeff picked up on at once.
“Hi, Dana,” he replied. “You look pretty.”
“Thanks. You don’t look bad yourself.” She looked around. “I can’t find Dal anywhere. He’s always wandering off to talk cattle with other ranchers.” She grimaced. She looked up at Jeff with sultry eyes, ignoring Meadow entirely. “Care to dance?” she asked.
Jeff let go of Meadow’s hand with an apologetic glance, set his glass on the table, and led Dana onto the dance floor. Meadow, who had no real romantic feelings for Jeff, nevertheless felt bad for him as she watched him shuffle around the dance floor with Dana in his arms. She knew how he felt about the other woman. Poor man. She was just toying with him, probably to make Dal jealous. She hoped Jeff knew. Men were so blind about women and their motives . . .
“Well, well, you found another red dress,” Dal Blake drawled from behind her.
She steeled herself not to show any emotion. She turned and looked up at him. “I had a few spare minutes, so I took down the curtains and made them into a party dress,” she said sarcastically.
His dark eyes slid over her like caressing hands, making her pulse run wild and her breathing erratic. Those were signs he was too experienced to miss. She was still stuck on him. He hated it. He hated her. She was a woman who had white picket fence written all over her, and he never wanted to settle down.
“Cute,” he remarked. He took a long sip of his drink. “I hope you’ve got your men looking out for pregnant heifers. You can’t afford to lose livestock.”
“They know what to do,” she replied. “I just let them do it.” She glanced toward the dance floor. Jeff had Dana close in his arms, and she seemed to be eating it up.
“Faithless,” Dal muttered, following her gaze. “Women never devote themselves to one man anymore. They play the field.”
She shrugged. “It’s a new world.”
He looked down at her with dark, irritated eyes. “Yes. A new world.” His eyes ran over her again. “Are you making a statement, with that dress?”
She flushed. She’d worn it deliberately, to taunt him. He probably knew it already. She hated how transparent she was to him.
“It’s the only really good party dress I own,” she lied.
“That’s right. Mustn’t wear anything feminine.” The smile he gave her was sharper than a razor.
She flushed. “It’s hard to run down criminals in a dress and high heels,” she said shortly.
He took another sip of his drink. His dark eyes slid down to her mouth and lingered there so long that it was like an imprint. She moved restlessly.
He took a step closer, so that there were only a few inches of space between them. She steeled herself not to feel anything.
“I don’t like your hair like that,” he commented softly. “I like it long, and soft, curving around your shoulders.”
Her heart jumped. “That’s why Dana wears hers long, I imagine. For you,” she added pointedly.
His head bent. She could smell his minty breath, feel the heat of his hard body so close to her own. She wanted to run, but that would give away far too much.
“Long hair is sexy,” he commented. His eyes were still on her mouth. He stared at it until her lips parted under the force of her quickened breath.
“Is . . . it?” she stammered.
He moved another step closer. Now he was right up against her. She could feel his warm strength, wrapping around her. “Your heart is running like an over-wound watch,” he whispered. “You still want me.”
She felt her cheeks burn. “I do not,” she said, enunciating every word.
“Liar,” he whispered.
She tried to move back, but one steely hand caught her small waist and brought her right against him. It didn’t take an experienced woman to know that he was aroused. She’d never felt a man like that, not so close. It made her uncomfortable.
“You need to . . . let me go,” she managed.
“Why?” The hand at her waist moved softly against her rib cage, edging closer to the underside of one small, pert breast.
“People . . . can see us,” she began.
He took her glass and put it on the table, along with his. He caught her arm and moved her through the crowd, right out the side door and under the awning. It was freezing cold and she had no coat.
He pulled her roughly into his arms, inside his unbuttoned suit jacket, against the warmth of his body. “You go to my head,” he ground out as his head bent. “I hate what you do to me!”
Before he finished the sentence, his hard, warm mouth was grinding into hers, demanding and insistent. There was such raw passion in the kiss that she had no defense against it. She moaned harshly against his devouring mouth.
He heard the pitiful little sound and reacted immediately. One big hand slid down her back to her hips. He pushed them hard into the thrust of his body and held them there, despite her weak protests.
“Stand still,” he bit off against her mouth. “Don’t make it worse.”
She didn’t understand what he was saying. She didn’t care. He was kissing her as if the world was ending and it was the very last chance he’d ever have to get her so close. She gave in to his ardor without even a struggle, loving the feel of his aroused body and knowing that she was responsible for it. Her short nails bit into the white shirt under his suit jacket as she pressed closer, her arms going under his, her starving body shivering . . .
He groaned in anguish. He wanted to push her up against the nearby wall, pull up her dress, and make love to her so hungrily that she’d never be able to look at another man as long as she lived. He wanted her. God, he wanted her!
He’d had just enough to drink that he was near the edge of his control. He found the zipper that held the dress in place and started to move it down.
That was when Meadow came to her senses. As much as she loved what he was doing to her, she couldn’t let this go on. There were people just inside the door, for God’s sake!
“Dal, we can’t,” she moaned against his mouth.
He drew in what he hoped was a sobering breath, but he was looking at her soft, warm, sweet mouth. He bent again, forsaking the zipper, but his big hands came around and blatantly moved over her breasts, feeling the hard tips, loving her headlong response to him.
“You’re sweet to kiss,” he whispered, nipping her lower lip. “Come home with me,” he added roughly.
She was trying to keep her senses intact. It wasn’t easy. Her head was spinning, as if she’d had too much to drink. In fact, she’d only had a sip of something alcoholic. He was like whiskey. He was sweet to kiss, too, but before she could say it, his mouth was against hers again. She felt his hands moving on her, seducing her. He was experienced, and it showed. No rushing his fences here. He teased and tempted until she was aching for anything he wanted to do to her.
“Come home with me,” he repeated against her mouth.
If she did, her life was over. She did at least know that. “You brought . . . Dana,” she protested weakly.
“Dana.” He lifted his head. It was spinning. She was heady. He hated her. Why was he trying to seduce her right outside a building full of people?
He drew back. His hand went to his head and he scowled down at her.
“I know,” she said, holding up a hand of her own. “You had too much to drink and you mistook me for your date.”
“Not much hope of that. Unlike you, she dresses like a lady,” he said, angry at his own weakness. “You look like a call girl!”
She hit him. It was an impulse that she almost regretted. She turned and went back inside, heading straight to the restroom to repair the damage he’d done to her makeup and put cold water on her lips to reduce the swelling. Now if only Dana didn’t show up in there!
She didn’t. Meadow fixed her makeup, restored her hair with the small brush she kept in her evening bag, and put cold water on her lips with a wet paper towel. After a minute or two, she felt normal enough to return to the dance floor.
She went out the door with her head high. She hoped Dal had to explain that red handprint on his hard cheek to his date. It would make her feel better about her response to him. It was an elegant dress she was wearing, even if it was red! And she didn’t look like a hooker!
Jeff was standing by the punch bowl, looking morose.
“What’s wrong?” Meadow asked gently.
He glanced down at her and forced a smile. “Nothing. Nothing at all. Care to dance?”
She was thinking of ways to refuse him when Gil joined them.
“Who can do a wild cha-cha?” he asked his coworkers. “Please say no,” he added to Jeff, who was still looking glum. “I’d hate dancing with your left feet, boss.”
That brought a laugh from Jeff. “No, I can’t do a cha-cha.”
Gil raised his eyebrows at Meadow.
“You bet I can,” she said, and slung her little purse back over her shoulder. “You’re on!”
Gil led her onto the dance floor, where the Latin beat was pulsating like a heartbeat.
Meadow could dance. Her mother had sent her for lessons, to make sure she had the social graces. It had devastated her that Meadow wanted to be a policewoman instead of a debutante. Her mother had even picked out a nice rich man for her. Meadow had dodged the introduction and gone back to work.
“You’re good!” Gil exclaimed with a laugh.
She grinned. “So are you.”
They moved around the dance floor, oblivious to the angry, dark-eyed man who glared at them from the sidelines.
“Well, she can dance,” Dana murmured reluctantly.
“She looks like a call girl in that damned dress,” he said shortly. “She should have worn something sedate.”
“Why?” Dana asked curiously.
He glanced down at her. He was aware that he wasn’t acting rationally. He was still vibrating from the long, sweet session with Meadow outside the building, in the freezing cold. Neither of them had even noticed it, they were so wrapped up in each other. Not in her finest hour could Dana have ever competed with Meadow, not that way. He was fond of the woman at his side, he enjoyed her company. He even enjoyed kissing her, although he’d gone no further than kisses—bad business to make a local businesswoman into his mistress and flaunt it. But kissing Meadow Dawson was like walking into fire. In his experience, and there was plenty of it, he’d never come across a woman who went to his head the way she did.
But she still had white picket fence written all over her, and he wasn’t a settling man.
“What happened to your cheek?” Dana asked, frowning as she noticed it.
“The call girl and I had what you might think was a confrontation,” he murmured, and sipped some more of his drink. “She took offense at what I said.”
“If you called her that, no wonder,” Dana said, driven to defend a fellow member of her sex against such an unwarranted attack. “Dal, that’s an expensive dress. There’s nothing about it that would provoke any man to say such a thing. I know you dislike her, but that’s just going too far.”
“You’re supposed to be on my side,” he flashed at her.
“Well, I am. Of course, I am,” she replied. “But she has a reputation that most women would envy. Even me,” she had to confess. She knew people talked about her, speculated about her, since she’d been dating Dal, who everyone locally knew was a rounder.
“What sort of reputation?” he drawled.
“A spotless one,” she told him. “I have a girlfriend who dated Meadow’s boss in St. Louis. He said that Meadow rarely dated anyone, and she never slept around.”
“Maybe she was pining for me.” He laughed coldly.
“For you?”
“She’s got a case on me, didn’t you notice?” he asked, his eyes going angrily to the woman in the red dress, moving so elegantly on the dance floor. “She’s been stuck on me since she was seventeen.”
Dana didn’t know what to say. She just stared at him.
“Oh, for God’s sake, she’s just a kid,” he said when he saw the expression. “I don’t seduce children!”
“She’s twenty-five,” she said, confused.
“She’s still seventeen,” he said, half under his breath, watching Meadow dance like a fairy to the Latin beat, graceful and skillful. “She fell into the coal bin, in a red dress. I laughed.” He recalled Meadow’s expression back then, the wounding he could see in her eyes. He’d done it deliberately, trying to ward her off. Even at seventeen, he wanted her. He’d always wanted her, always denied it, fought it. He wasn’t giving in. He didn’t do forever.
“If you say so,” Dana replied. She smiled to herself. At least Dal wasn’t stuck on the younger woman. That meant she still had a chance. “Want to dance?” she asked.
“No. I can’t do Latin dances,” he said resentfully as he watched Gil spin Meadow around on the dance floor.
“Gil can,” Dana sighed. “He always was light on his feet.”
He looked down at her, astonished. “Dancing isn’t a skill!”
“Well, actually, it is,” she replied. “Most men can’t dance. Heavens, didn’t you see Jeff on the dance floor? He can barely shuffle his feet.”
Dal could dance. He didn’t do it much. No Latin dances at all. But he could do a masterful waltz. Not that he had much of a chance to show off that skill tonight. This wasn’t a waltzing crowd. Most of the music they played was western or country. The Latin music was just for Gil. He’d seen the man approach the bandleader earlier so he could dance with Meadow.
Dal didn’t like her dancing with the younger man. He had another sip of his drink. His head was starting to feel like an overfull balloon.
“We’re going to have to go soon,” he told Dana. “I’m sorry. I’ve had too much to drink,” he confessed.
“I’ll drive,” she informed him.
He shrugged.
Meadow and Gil came off the dance floor, panting and laughing. Her face was flushed. She looked . . . beautiful. Dal could hardly take his eyes off her. The red dress was elegant, at that. He was sorry for the remarks he’d made.
Meadow saw him watching her. The look she gave him was sizzling, and not in a sexy way. She looked as if she’d like to see him frying on a grill. There was hurt in it, too. He’d made her feel cheap, when that was the last thing she was.
He would have apologized, but very quickly she said something to Jeff. He gave a wistful glance at Dana, nodded, and dug for his car keys. They retrieved Meadow’s coat and walked out the door. Dal felt as if he’d been thrown headfirst into a snowbank. He felt guilty.
He turned to Dana. “How about driving me home?” he asked in a hollow voice.
She saw his expression and felt her hopes dwindling. The light went out of him when Meadow left the building. It was a revelation. Dal was crazy about the other woman, and he didn’t even seem to know it.
“I’ll just get my coat,” Dana said with a quiet smile. Oh, well, she was thinking. Jeff had been very attentive and morose that she was with another man. They’d been quite an item around town until they’d argued. She couldn’t even remember what they’d argued about. Jeff wasn’t as rich as Dal, but he had that huge ranch and he was a respected member of the community. She could do worse.
Sooner or later, Dal was going to give in to his feelings for Meadow, or Meadow would leave and go back to St. Louis. Either way, Dana would survive. She had prospects. That was all she needed.
* * *
Meadow smiled as Jeff kissed her lightly on the cheek.
“Thanks,” she said, trying to hide the pain Dal had given her. “It was a nice dance.”
“No, it wasn’t,” Jeff said on a sigh.
“You’re still hung up on Dana,” she guessed aloud.
He shrugged. “I’m a one-woman man, but I lost the woman to someone richer,” he said bitterly.
“She was glaring at us on the dance floor,” she commented helpfully.
He perked up. “She was?”
She smiled. “Yes, she was.”
He chuckled. “Maybe there’s hope.”
“Maybe there is. Thanks for taking me.”
“Thanks for going with me. See you first thing Monday morning.”
“You bet. Good night.”
“Good night,” he called as he went back to his car, started it, and roared off with a wave of his hand.
Meadow went into her house. It was quiet and dark. That was how her heart felt. Dal had said terrible things to her, hurtful things. He’d meant them. He thought she looked like a hooker. She laughed coldly to herself. She’d seen hookers on the street. She should get him in the car and drive him to Denver, let him see for himself how little she resembled the real thing in her elegant dress. But it wouldn’t make any difference. He hated her. He’d made it apparent tonight.
She wondered why he’d kissed her so hungrily. Dana was his girl, everybody knew it. Had he mistaken her for Dana? He’d been drinking a lot. That was unusual. Everybody knew he rarely drank hard liquor at all. Someone in his family had been an alcoholic, his grandfather, she recalled. It must have been hard for his father. He’d been an only child. Dal would have grown up with bad memories of men who went over the edge on booze.
But he’d been drinking tonight. Why? She gave up wondering and went to bed.
* * *
Her dreams were wild and erotic. Dal figured heavily in them. Just before she woke up, he’d been kissing her again, devouring her as he had outside the building the night before. It was so sweet. He’d whispered something. She was trying so hard to hear it when Snow started howling in her ear.
She came awake at once. The white muzzle was sneaking under the covers, cold and insistent on her cheek.
She laughed and hugged Snow close. “Got to go, huh? Okay. Just a minute, sweetie. I have to go with you so you don’t sneak off.”
After the things Dal had said, she wasn’t about to let Snow wander up to his ranch. Not again. Never again.
She threw on her snow boots and a coat, got the lead, and went outside with her dog.
* * *
She’d thought that it would be a long time before she saw Dal again, but he was sitting on the edge of Jeff’s desk when she walked into his office in the courthouse.
He gave her a disapproving glance, his eyes going to the pistol on her belt, next to her badge. “You walk around with that gun all the time?” he asked.
“It goes with the job,” she returned calmly, refusing to be baited. “Hi, boss,” she added, with a smile for Jeff.
“Hi, kid,” he said with a grin. “I’ve got a job for you.”
“You have?” she asked warily.
“I have to be away from my house tonight,” Dal said curtly. “I need someone to stay there and keep an eye on my antique writing desk. I had an attempted break-in the night I took Dana to the dance. I’m sure he’ll try again, and tonight’s his best chance. Everybody knows I’m going to Denver to buy a new lot of purebreds. I won’t get home until near midnight.”
“That would be private security,” she said coolly.
“Yes, it would,” he replied, “and it’s a paying job. You don’t work nights. There isn’t anybody else,” he added, with just enough acid to let her know that this wasn’t his own idea.
“I sort of volunteered you,” Jeff said apologetically. “If you don’t want to do it, nobody’s going to insist.”
Dal cocked his head. “You can bring Snow with you,” he said sarcastically, “since she thinks she lives at my ranch, anyway.”
She bowed up like a spitting cat. “Look here . . .” she began.
“Here.” Dal put a key in her hand. “One of my men’s watching the house right now, but he has to leave at five. That’s when you’ll need to relieve him. The other men will all be out with the pregnant heifers. Another snow storm’s headed our way.”
She wanted to protest, but she couldn’t find a way out that didn’t involve slapping that smirk off Dal’s sensuous mouth.
“All right,” she said shortly.
“I’ll leave the check on the telephone table,” Dal added. “Thanks, Jeff.”
He walked out without another glance at Meadow.
Nice, she thought, thanking her boss and without a single word of approval for her. That was Dal.
“Sorry about that,” Jeff said when his friend was gone. “I tried to ward him off, but he’s in our jurisdiction. And he’s my friend . . .”
“Not to worry, I don’t mind,” she added. She frowned. “That was the table that one of the major surrenders was signed on when the Civil War ended, wasn’t it?” she asked.
“Yes, it was. It’s worth a fortune. It was handed down in Dal’s family. His grandfather sold it on one of his drunken binges,” he added. “Took Dal’s father a year to make enough to buy it back. Sad story. It’s sort of a family heirloom.”
“Like the pipe organ and the Victorian lamp that belonged to former presidents.” She was thinking aloud.
“I had the same thought,” Jeff replied. “Our thief is very selective about what he takes. If it’s the same man—I’m assuming it’s a man, because we’ve never had a female thief do break-ins locally—then it was probably him who tried to get into Dal’s house while we were all at the dance. Good thing his foreman was in the house getting a bill of lading at the time and heard the noise in the back of the house. Chased the thief, but lost him in the woods.”
“Nobody called us,” she complained.
“Dal would have, but he was,” he hesitated, “incapacitated at the time.”
“He was with his girlfriend,” she said, trying to hide her irritation.
“He was stinking drunk,” Jeff corrected. “Dana had to drive him home and get him to bed. She said he slept the whole way home. One of his cowboys helped her when they got to the ranch.” He shook his head. “Never saw Dal drunk in my life. He hates liquor. His grandfather beat him when he was little, when his daddy went away on cattle sales. He never got over it. Said he’d die before he’d turn into a lush.”
She gritted her teeth. “Poor man,” she said reluctantly.
“We get a lot of deputies who come from homes like that,” he mentioned. “They go into law enforcement trying to save other kids from what they went through. Sometimes we get lucky. Sometimes we don’t.”
“That’s true,” she confessed. “We’ve all been there, where you try to arrest a drunken husband for beating his wife, and the wife either refuses to testify or attacks you when you try to arrest him.” She laughed. “One threw a whole gallon of milk on one of our officers in St. Louis. Soaked him to the skin. We called him ‘the milkman.’” She laughed at the memory. “He was a good sport.”
“Don’t get me started,” he said. “I’ve got some stories of my own.”
She grinned. “Okay. I’ll get to work.”
“Plenty of opportunities for that. There are several new files on your desk,” he added apologetically.
“No sweat. It’s what I get paid for.”
He glanced at her. “It stung you, what Dal said about your gun.”
She shifted restlessly. “He hates me. He said I looked like a call girl in my red dress.”
“I’m sure he didn’t mean it.” He defended his friend. “You looked very elegant, I thought.”
“Thanks, boss.”
“Dal says things he doesn’t mean. He’s always sorry, and he tries to make amends. I don’t know why he’s so hard on you,” he added, frowning. “It’s not like him. He loves women. He goes out of his way to make sure the ranch wives who work for him have anything they need and a lot of things they just want.”
“It’s a long story,” she replied, recalling the first incident, her red dress that met a terrible fate in the coal. “I know he doesn’t like me. It doesn’t matter. In this business, you get used to being disliked.” She chuckled. “I’ll just go do my job.”
“Good idea. I’ll go earn my paycheck, too.”
“The county commission will love you for it.”
“On my deathbed, maybe.” He laughed.
She sat down at her desk and went to work. At least it kept her mind off Dal for most of the day.