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

“Oops.” Myers stood up, grinning sheepishly. “Sorry, old son, I didn’t know.”

“No harm done,” Calhoun said carelessly, but his eyes were dark and cold and dangerous-looking. “Let’s go. Abby, I’ll want the latest progress report on his cattle when we get back.”

Only a few months before, Abby might have had some snappy reply to that, or she might have jumped back at Calhoun for acting so possessive. But now she just looked at him, feeling helpless and hungry and awash on a wave of longing because he was acting jealous.

He seemed to stop breathing, too. His dark eyes searched hers, aware of her embarrassment, her confusion. He let his gaze fall to her mouth and watched her lips part suddenly, and his body reacted in a way that shocked him.

“Lunch. Now.” Calhoun ushered the other cattleman to the door. “If you’ll get in the car, I’ll just get my hat and be right with you,” he told the man with a glued-on smile and a pat on the shoulder. “That’s right, you go ahead….” He turned to Abby, his expression unreadable. “I want to talk to you.” Calhoun took her arm and pulled her up, leading her into his office without a word. He closed the door, and the way he looked at her made her feel threatened and wildly excited all at the same time.

“Mr. Myers is waiting….” she faltered, disturbed by the darkness of his eyes as they met hers.

He moved toward her, and she backed up until his desk stopped her, her eyes riveted to his. Maybe he was going to make a declaration!

His chin lifted then, and it was anger that glinted in his dark eyes, not possessiveness. “Listen,” he said curtly, “Grey Myers has had three wives. He currently has at least one mistress. He’s forgotten more than you’ve had time to learn. I don’t want you to learn that kind of lesson with a professional Romeo.”

“I’m going to learn it with someone eventually,” she said, swallowing hard. Her body felt odd, taut and tingling all at once, because his was close enough that she could feel its warm strength.

“I know that,” he said impatiently, and his face hardened. “But I’d just as soon you didn’t join a queue. Myers is no serious suitor. He’s a playboy with a smooth manner, and he’d have you screaming for help five minutes after you were alone with him.”

So that was it. More big-brother responsibility. He wasn’t jealous, he was upset because his protective instincts had been aroused. She stared at the steady rise and fall of his chest in dull acceptance. Stupid me, she thought miserably, wishing for a star again.

“I wasn’t trying to lead him on,” she said finally. “I just smiled at him, like I smile at everyone—even you. I guess he thought I was sending out smoke signals, but I wasn’t, honestly.”

His face relaxed. “No harm done.” And then he moved. One long, powerful arm slid behind her, bringing his lips within an inch of hers. She almost moaned at the minty warmth of his breath on her mouth. Her gaze dropped to his mouth, curiously tracing every hard line of the thin upper lip and the more chiseled lower one. Her heart throbbed. Her breath seemed to stop altogether, and for one long instant she felt the full weight of his chest against her soft breasts in a contact that was shocking. She looked up at him with wide, stunned eyes.

Then he moved back, the hat he’d been reaching for in one hand, his eyes frankly amused at the look on her face. So she’d never thought of him that way, had she? It irritated him to think that she didn’t feel the new and very unwelcome attraction he was discovering for her. It was just as well that he had a business function tonight; it would keep his overimaginative brain away from Abby.

“Were you expecting something?” he asked coldly. “I just wanted my hat.” He watched a shadow pass across her eyes before she mumbled something and lowered her gaze. He put his Stetson on his thick blonde-streaked hair and tilted it over one eye. “I hired you to work here, not to send out signals, intentional or otherwise, to clients.”

“I hate you,” she said suddenly, sick of his accusations and his hateful remarks.

“Sure you do. What else is new?” He tapped her chin with a long finger. “Get busy.”

While she was still struggling with her composure he opened the door and went out without a backward glance.

Abby hardly got anything done for the next hour. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d felt so turned around, so confused. She was sure she hated Calhoun, but in an hour he’d be back, smiling, and then she’d forgive him. That was what made her so miserable, the knowledge that he could commit murder and she’d still love him. Damn this hateful attraction!

She took a half-hour break and went to the canteen and had a sandwich that she didn’t taste. She was barely back at her desk when Mr. Myers returned—with Justin instead of Calhoun.

She handed the progress reports to Justin, who herded Mr. Myers into his brother’s office, kept him there a scant ten minutes and then herded him out again. Abby kept her head down and didn’t even say hello. That was just as well, because Mr. Myers didn’t look in her direction.

Justin gave Abby a curious look afterward. “That’s unusual,” he remarked. “Calhoun called me out of a board meeting to have lunch and talk over that contract with Myers. Then he waltzed off and left me there. What’s going on?”

Abby cleared her throat. “Why, Justin, I have no idea,” she said, even managing a smile. Justin lifted an eyebrow, shrugged and went back into Calhoun’s office without another word. Abby stared after him, curious herself about Calhoun’s behavior. Then it occurred to her that maybe he just didn’t like Greg Myers, which led to the unpalatable thought that perhaps they’d fallen out over a woman. Maybe one of Myers’s mistresses…She turned back to her typewriter. She hated even thinking about that side of Calhoun’s life.

Justin was quiet for the rest of the afternoon, but he had plenty to say when Calhoun came in just before quitting time. The door was half-open, and Abby, who was the last of the office group to leave, got an earful as she was straightening up her desk.

“This has got to stop,” Justin was telling his brother. “One of the office girls told me that Myers got friendly with Abby just before you cleared out. It’s gotten to the point that Abby can’t even smile at a man without having you come down on her head like Judgment. She’s almost twenty-one. It isn’t fair to expect her to live like a recluse.”

“I wasn’t,” Calhoun said curtly. “I just warned her off him. My God, you know his reputation!”

“Abby’s no fool,” came the reply. “She’s a levelheaded person.”

“Sure, she’s proved that,” Calhoun said with biting sarcasm. “Going to a strip show—”

“It was not!” Abby called through the open door. “It was a male variety show.”

“My God, she’s standing out there listening!” Calhoun jerked the door all the way open, glaring at her. “Stop eavesdropping! It isn’t polite!”

“Stop talking about me behind my back, then,” she returned, picking up her purse. “I wouldn’t have gone out with a man like Grey Myers even to spite you, Calhoun. I know a line when I hear one.”

Calhoun glared at her. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea, your working here.”

Her eyebrows went up. “Really? Why?”

“The place is full of men,” Calhoun muttered, and Justin had to smother a grin.

Abby lifted her eyebrows and smiled. “Why, so it is,” she gushed. “Lovely, unshaven men who smell of cattle and cow chips. Sooo romantic,” she sighed.

Justin had turned away. Calhoun’s dark eyes were glittering.

“Myers didn’t smell of cow chips,” he reminded her.

She arched her eyebrows at him. “How interesting that you noticed,” she said in a theatrical whisper.

He looked as if he might throw something at her. “Will you cut that out?” he muttered.

She sighed. “Suit yourself. I was just trying to help. God forbid that I should be seduced by some strange, sweet-smelling man.”

“Go home!” Calhoun roared.

“My, my, what a nasty temper we’re in,” she said demurely. She reached for her purse, glancing back at him. “I’ll have Maria make you a nice bowl of razor-blade soup, just to keep your tongue sharp.”

“I won’t be home for supper, thank God,” Calhoun said coldly. “I’ve got a date,” he added, for no other reason than to irritate her. He didn’t like the idea of her knowing how much Myers’s flirting had upset him. He didn’t want her to know that he’d been so violently jealous that he couldn’t even trust himself to have lunch with the man and had had to call Justin to intervene.

But Abby didn’t know that, and she was sure that it was just Calhoun being overprotective as usual. It hurt her to hear about where he was going. Abby felt as if she were being choked to death. If only she were beautiful and blond, if only she could cope! But she managed to hide her emptiness. “That’s great, Calhoun, you just enjoy yourself while I sit home alone. I’ll never get a date as long as you’re two steps behind me.”

“Dream on,” Calhoun told her. “Hell will freeze over before you’d go out with a man like that.”

“There’s a little town called Hell, you know,” Abby told him. “It does snow there….”

“If I were you I’d go home, Abby,” Justin said, eyeing his brother. “It’s Friday night. You might find a nice movie to watch. Come to think of it, I just bought a new war movie. You can watch it with me if you want to.”

She smiled. Justin really was nice. “Thanks. I might do that, since my watchdog doesn’t want me out after dark,” she added with a glare at Calhoun. “I’ll bet Elizabeth the First had a guardian just like you!”

Justin caught Calhoun’s arm in the nick of time, and Abby took off running, her heart in her throat. It was odd how Calhoun, usually so easygoing, had turned explosive lately. She did goad him, of course, but she couldn’t help it. Fighting him was the only way she could stay sane and hide her feelings for him. If she ever started batting her eyelashes and sighing over him, he’d probably shoot her off the place like a bullet.

She started her car and drove home, all the fury dying into misery as she left the feedlot behind. What good was pretending? Her heart was broken, because Calhoun was going out with one of his women and she didn’t qualify for that title. She never would. She’d grow old with Calhoun patting her on the head. Once or twice she’d almost thought he felt something for her, that he’d begun to notice her. But if he had, he certainly wouldn’t be running all over the place with other women. And he wouldn’t ignore Abby unless she started a fight or got into trouble. She was his responsibility, of course. His headache. To him she was anything but a warm, attractive woman whom he might love eventually. That she’d never be.