Connal

What should she do? If she told him now, after having denied it when he’d demanded the truth, he’d never believe anything she said again. He’d hate her, too, for trapping him into marriage. It didn’t matter that he’d threatened to land them in jail if she didn’t go along. He’d been intoxicated, not responsible for his actions. But she’d been sober. When he asked her why she’d gone through with it, how would she answer him? Would he guess that she was shamefully in love with him?

The questions tormented her. She burned lunch. Her father gave her a hard glare as he bit into a scraped grilled cheese sandwich.

“Tastes like carbon,” he muttered.

“Sorry.” She’d forgotten to buy cheese at the store on her latest shopping trip, so there had been only enough for three sandwiches. She’d managed to burn all three. All she could do was scrape them off and hope for the best.

“You’ve been preoccupied all morning,” he remarked with intense scrutiny of the bright color in her cheeks. “Want to talk about it?”

She managed a wan smile and shook her head. “Thanks anyway.”

He got down another bite of overdone grilled cheese sandwich. “Would it have anything to do with C.C.’s absence last night?”

She stared at him blankly. “What?”

“C.C.’s car was missing all night, and I understand that he had to have one of the hands drive him over to Juárez to collect it this morning.” He glared at the remainder of his sandwiches and pushed the plate away. “He was drinking, wasn’t he, Pepi?”

She couldn’t lie, but it wouldn’t do to tell the truth, either. “One of the men said C.C. had a few in Juárez, but on his own time,” she added quickly. “You can’t really jump on him unless he does it on your time.” She warmed to her subject. “Besides that, he only drinks once a year.”

He frowned. “Once a year?”

“That’s about the extent of it. And please don’t ask me why, because I can’t tell you.” She laid a gentle hand on his forearm. “Dad, you know we owe the ranch to his business sense.”

“I know,” he muttered. “But damn it, Pepi, I can’t have one set of rules for the men and another for him.”

“He probably won’t ever do it again,” she said reassuringly. “Come on, you haven’t actually caught him in the act, you know.”

He grimaced. “I don’t guess I have. But, if I ever do…!” he added hotly.

“I know. You’ll throw him off the roof.” She grinned. “Drink your coffee. At least it isn’t burned.” She finished hers. “I, uh, have to go into El Paso this afternoon to pick up a package I ordered.”

He scowled. “What package?”

“For your birthday,” she improvised. That wasn’t improbable; his birthday was only two weeks away.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I’ll never tell.”

He let the subject drop after that, and went back out to work. Pepi washed up and then went to dress for her appointment. Jeans and a T-shirt weren’t exactly the best outfit to wear to her own doom, she thought blackly.

She put on her full denim skirt with a blue print blouse and pinned her hair up on her head. She looked much more mature, she decided, although nothing could be done about the freckles on her nose. Not even makeup camouflaged them very well. She did the best she could, adding only a touch of makeup to her face and groaning over her voluptuous figure. If only she could lose enough weight to look like Edie…

With a moan, she slipped her hose-clad feet into taupe high heels, transferred the contents of her handbag into the pocketbook that matched the heels, and went downstairs.

As luck would have it, she ran right into C.C. on the front porch. He looked hung over and dusty. His bat-wing chaps were heavily stained, like the jeans under them and his chambray shirt. His hat had once been black, but now it was dusty gray. He glared down at her with black eyes.

“Brandon’s out at the holding corral,” he remarked in an oddly hostile tone. “I assume he’s the reason for the fine feathers?”

“I’m going into El Paso to do some shopping,” she replied. “How’s your head?” Better to sound natural, she decided, and she even smiled.

“It was bad enough before I buried it in dust and bleating calves,” he muttered. “Come in here a minute. I have to talk to you.”

She knew her heart had stopped beating. With a sense of awe, she felt the warmth of his lean, strong hand around her upper arm as he guided her back into the house and shut the door. He let go of her almost reluctantly.

“Look, Pepi, this has got to stop,” he said.

“W-what has?” she faltered.

“You chasing me down on my yearly binges,” he said irritably. He took off his hat and ran a grimy hand through his sweaty jet hair. “I’ve been thinking all day about what could have happened to you in Juárez last night. That part of town is a rough place in broad daylight, never mind at night. I told you before, I don’t need a nursemaid. I don’t want you ever pulling such a stupid stunt again.”

“There’s a simple solution. Stop drinking,” she said.

He searched her uplifted face quietly, scowling. “Yes, I think I might have to. If my memory’s as faulty as it was last night…”

She had to exert every ounce of will she had not to give anything away. “Your secrets are safe with me, C.C.,” she said in a stage whisper, and grinned.

He relaxed a little. “Okay, squirt. Go do your shopping.” His dark eyes slid over her body in a way they never had before, and she felt her knees going weak.

“Something wrong?” she asked huskily.

His eyes caught hers. “You kick around in jeans so much that I forget occasionally that you’ve even got legs.” His gaze dropped to them and he smiled in a sensual kind of way. “Very nice legs, at that.”

She flushed. “My legs are none of your business, C.C.,” she informed him.

He didn’t like that. His sharp glance told her so. “Why? Do they belong to the carrot-topped vet already? He acts more like a lover than a friend, despite your constant denials.” His expression seemed to harden before her eyes. “You’re twenty-two, as you keep telling me. And this is a permissive age, isn’t it? No man can expect virginity in a wife anymore.”

The mention of the word “wife” made her face pale. But she couldn’t let him see how shaken she was. “That’s right,” she said. “It is a permissive age. I can sleep with a man if I like.”

He looked briefly murderous. “Does your father know about that attitude?”

“What my father doesn’t know won’t bother him,” she said uneasily. “I have to go, C.C.”

His eyes mirrored his contempt. “My God, I thought you were old-fashioned, in that respect at least.”

That hurt. She lowered her gaze to his shirt. “As you keep telling me, my private life is no concern of yours,” she said in a tight voice. “You and Edie probably don’t play bingo on your dates, either, and I don’t make nasty remarks about your morals.”

“I’m a man,” he said shortly.

She lifted her eyes defiantly. “So what? Do you think being a man gives you some divine right to sleep with anybody you like? If men expect chaste women, then women have the right to expect chaste men!”

His thick eyebrows lifted toward the ceiling. “My God, where would you find one?”

“That’s my point exactly. Sling mud and it sticks to your fingers. Now I’m going.”

“If you aren’t meeting the handsome vet, who are you meeting, dressed like that?” he asked curtly.

“It’s just a skirt and blouse!”