Diana Palmer Texan Lovers: Calhoun / Justin / Tyler / Sutton's Way / Ethan / Connal

She pulled away from him, hating her own inhibitions and his attitude, as well. If he’d loved her, it might have been different. But he didn’t. He wanted her. And after that first time, she’d be just like every other woman he’d slept with. She’d be just another one of Calhoun Ballenger’s conquests, an ache that he’d satisfied and forgotten. A used toy.

“I have work to do,” she said, and tried to smile. “And…I don’t think I’ll go to Houston with you, thanks all the same.”

He realized only then what she thought. He’d made it sound as if he was going to round off the evening with a night in bed. He’d made it sound cheap, and that hadn’t been his intention at all. He’d meant that he’d make love to her, very light love, and then he’d take her home. He hadn’t meant—!

“Abby, no!” he burst out. “I didn’t mean what you think!”

She opened the door. “I have to go.” She went out, and he followed her, intent on having things out. But as he reached for her, Justin came in with two businessmen. Abby escaped into the bathroom, shaking, broken inside by hopelessness and rejection. Calhoun not only didn’t love her. Now he didn’t even respect her.

Chapter Nine (#ulink_4cfe387c-03c9-57e5-a61b-a222061ce224)

Abby was grateful that business kept Calhoun occupied for the next two days. She could hardly bear the thought of seeing him when he knew so well how she felt about him. And now that he’d reduced their relationship to a strictly physical one, some of the joy had gone out of life for her. She hadn’t expected that he’d actually proposition her. But if inviting her to his apartment wasn’t a proposition, what was it?

She managed to avoid him when he was in the office that Thursday and Friday, since things stayed hectic. Abby was training a new secretary, and Calhoun seemed reluctant to discuss their private lives around the other woman. She was a year older than Abby, bright and quick-witted. And, unfortunately, already stuck on Calhoun. She had a habit of sighing and batting her long eyelashes every time he passed her desk. Abby was glad Friday was her last day. Having to watch Calhoun with a potential new conquest—the girl was blond and very pretty—was just unbearable.

There was a small farewell party for Abby late Friday afternoon. Justin and Mr. Ayker and the women who worked in the office had taken up a collection to buy her a beautiful cardigan in a pale yellow shade. There was a cake, too, and Justin made a brief speech about how valuable she’d been to them and how they hated losing her. Calhoun wasn’t there. Abby left with mingled relief and disappointment. Apparently she wasn’t even going to get to say goodbye to him. Well, that suited her. She didn’t care if he was glad to be rid of her. Not one bit.

She cried all the way to Mrs. Simpson’s house because she didn’t care.

Tyler was right on time to take her to dinner. He looked good dressed up. He was wearing a navy blazer with tan slacks, a white shirt and a natty blue striped tie. He looked elegant and very masculine. His green eyes danced as Abby came downstairs in a gray crepe dress with a full skirt and a low, crosscut bodice with fabric buttons. Her hair was neatly styled, and she looked elegant and sexy.

“You look pretty,” he commented with a slow smile.

She curtsied. “So do you. Good night, Mrs. Simpson,” she called out. “I’ll be in by midnight!”

Mrs. Simpson came to the doorway, grinning. “Mind that no good-looking woman tries to take Ty away from you,” she teased.

“No chance of that,” he replied carelessly, smiling down at Abby. “This dishy lady is enough for me. Good night, Mrs. Simpson.”

“Good night,” the older woman replied. “Have fun.”

Tyler walked her out to his white Ford, opening the door for her. “I like your landlady. Her husband used to work for Dad. Did you know that?”

“She mentioned something about it,” Abby told him. “She’s a nice landlady.”

He got in, started the car and pulled out onto the road. “Do you miss the big house?”

“I miss the brothers,” she said quietly, fingering her small purse. “It’s hard getting used to my own company. There was always something going on at home.”

“Can I ask why you moved out?” he persisted, glancing in her direction.

She smiled at him. “No.”

His eyebrows arched wickedly. “Don’t tell me. Calhoun wrestled you down on the desk and tried to ravish you.”

Her face turned scarlet. She cleared her throat. “Don’t be absurd.”

He chuckled. “It isn’t absurd, considering the way he was watching you dance with me that night at the bar.”

“He was too busy dancing with Shelby to notice,” she murmured. “Justin went home and got drunk afterward,” she added, neglecting to mention her own participation.

“Shelby cried all night.” He sighed. “Hell of a thing, isn’t it, Abby, the way they still care about each other. Six years, and they’re as far apart now as they were then.”

“And both of them dying inside,” she added. She thought about herself and Calhoun and hoped that she wasn’t going to end up like Shelby, grieving for a man she could never have. She forced a bright smile. “Where are we going?”

“To that new Greek restaurant,” he told her. “They say the food is really good. Have you ever had Greek food?”

“No. I’m looking forward to trying it,” she said, and the conversation was back on safe territory again and away from the disturbing subject of Calhoun.

* * *

Meanwhile, Calhoun was pacing in Justin’s study at the house, his dark eyes black, his hands linked behind his back, scowling.

“Will you stop?” Justin muttered as he tried to add figures and ignore the distraction of his restless brother. “Abby’s not our responsibility anymore. She’s a grown woman.”

“I can’t help it. Tyler’s been around. He’s no boy.”

“So long as Abby isn’t interested in him, none of that will matter.”

Calhoun stopped pacing and glared at him. “And what if she is? What if she’s throwing herself at him on the rebound?”

Justin laid down his pencil. “Rebound from whom?” he asked, lighting a cigarette.

Calhoun rammed his hands into his pockets and stared out the dark window. “From me. She loves me,” he said quietly.

“Yes,” Justin replied, and for once his tone was sympathetic.

Calhoun hadn’t realized how much Justin knew. He turned, his dark eyes curious, wary. “Did she tell you?”

Justin nodded. He took a draw from the cigarette, watching it instead of his brother. “She’s young, but that could be an advantage. She isn’t cynical or world-weary or promiscuous like most of your women. And she hasn’t got a mercenary bone in her body.”

“She’d want marriage,” Calhoun replied tautly. “Happily ever after. I don’t know if I could adjust to being married.”

Justin looked up. “How are you going to take to a life without Abby in it?”

For an instant, Calhoun looked hunted. He stared at the carpet.

“And what if it doesn’t last?” he replied harshly. “What if it all falls apart?”

Justin blew out a cloud of smoke. “Love lasts. And if you’re worried about being faithful to her,” he added with a pointed stare, “you may find that fidelity isn’t all that difficult.”

Calhoun’s dark eyes snapped. “Oh, sure. Look at you. Happily ever after. Your perfect relationship fell apart,” he said, hurting and striking out because of it. “And how many women have you consoled yourself with in the past six years?”

Justin stared at him for a long moment, his eyes narrow and glittering. He smiled then, faintly. “None.”

Calhoun didn’t move. He hadn’t expected that answer, despite Justin’s clamlike attitude toward his private life.

“I had an old-fashioned idea that sex came after marriage with a woman like Shelby,” Justin said quietly. “So I held back. After she broke it off, I found that I wasn’t capable of wanting anyone else.” He turned away, oblivious to Calhoun’s shocked expression. “These days I find my consolation in work, Calhoun. I’ve never wanted anyone but Shelby since the day I met her. God help me, I still don’t.”