Lacy

Damn Turk! she thought, dashing aside the covers, headache and all, to get to her feet. Damn him! Letting Cole order him around, heeding that warning to keep his hands off the boss’s sister! She’d gone right through the roof when Ben had told her that. He’d overheard a hot argument between Turk and Cole, with Cole coming out on top, as usual. Turk had added that he liked women, not little girls, and that he didn’t have any interest in young Katy in the first place! Oh, how that had cut. It had cut her young heart to shreds. She’d been avoiding Turk ever since, and when she’d gone to that party in San Antonio and met Danny Marlone, she’d encouraged him like crazy. For the first time, she’d used her femininity to attract a man. It didn’t help that she began to wonder if it might even work on Turk. It was too late now. Cole had seen to that.

Sometimes she hated her big brother’s tyranny. Cole had been like this as long as Katy could remember. Always in charge, always throwing out orders. Ben had worshipped him for a long time, although her baby brother was beginning to lose that enchantment as he aged. But Lacy…Oh, poor Lacy. The older woman would wear her poor heart out on Cole’s utter indifference, and Katy could have cried for her friend. Cole had been quieter since Lacy’d left. Almost lonely, if the iron man ever got lonely. At any rate, he was working himself to death. And when Marion had asked him to stop and see Lacy, he didn’t even protest. Maybe he missed her. Katy grinned impishly. That would be something—to have her indomitable older brother actually fall in love. Cassie could be right; he might feel something. But he had a lot of practice at hiding his emotions. Especially since the war.

She tugged on a blue polka-dotted little frock with a swingy skirt and puffy sleeves that gave her a baby-doll look. She left her hair long and tied it back with a bright blue ribbon. Not bad, she told her reflection in the mirror. Not bad at all. She lifted her hair. Maybe she’d have it cut, like Lacy’s. She liked Lacy’s hair. She liked Lacy.

Her thin brows drew together as she thought about her best friend in San Antonio. She’d visited Lacy once or twice in the past month, once to go to a party. Odd, it didn’t seem like Lacy to have a houseful of people and all that booze. Katy had always been the flashier of the two girls, always out for adventure and excitement, the wilder the better. It had been Lacy who was quiet and dry-witted, bubbly only with people who knew her well. That Lacy wouldn’t have liked wild parties. But Cole had changed her. His constant indifference and neglect had done something terrible to her friend. It had aged her. Ben and his stupid plotting! If only he’d stopped to think what he was doing. Locking them in a boarded-up line cabin that not even Cole’s fabulous strength could break them out of. She shook her head. Ben should have realized that Lacy wasn’t for him. And there was little Faye Cameron, who worshipped him from afar, hanging on his every word. But Ben had no time for that tomboyish child with her soft blond hair and big blue eyes, despite the fact that most of the boys on the ranch adored her. Ben thought her young and frivolous and not nearly sophisticated enough for a fledgling famous writer such as himself.

Well, poor little Faye would have to fight for her own ground; Katy didn’t have time. She was expecting Danny later in the day, and she knew he was going to ask her to go back to Chicago with him. She wasn’t sure what she was going to say. He had to leave the following morning. His business in San Antonio was over, and it hadn’t included an impromptu meeting with a young Texas lady at a local party that had led to a week of frantic dating.

What would Turk say if she agreed to go with Danny? The question intrigued her. She knew very well what her brother would say and do. And it would be prudent to leave before he returned from San Antonio if she wanted to go through with it. But first she wanted to see Turk. She wanted to see his face when she told him.

He was down at the corral, tossing out orders to a few cowhands on horseback. Katy’s green eyes adored his tall, muscular body as he stood with his back to her, his deep voice faintly raised as he spoke. His hair was blondish brown, sun-bleached and thick and straight. His face was handsome enough, with strong lines and a mouth she’d dreamed of kissing. He had big, rough-looking hands and equally big feet, and her heart went crazy just looking at him.

The cowboys turned their mounts and rode off. Turk stared after them, his wide-brimmed straw hat pushed to the back of his head, his jeans close-fitting, sensuously clinging to his long, powerful legs above booted feet.

“Hi, cowboy,” Katy drawled. At least her head hurt less, but her heart didn’t. It got bruised every time she looked at him.

He turned, one corner of his chiseled mouth tugging up at the sight of her in the revealing fabric of her dress. “Hello, tidbit. Going somewhere?”

“Just waiting for Danny.” She shrugged. “He’s taking me for a drive in his Alfa Romeo.”

The gray eyes darkened. He didn’t say anything, but the rigidity of his face spoke volumes. “Cole won’t like it.”

“Cole isn’t here,” she replied haughtily.

“For God’s sake, Katy! What’s gotten into you lately?” he demanded. “You’ve gone hog-wild, and at the worst possible time. Cole’s got enough worries, with foreclosures all over the place and your mother’s health failing.”

That was true. Despite her vivacity, her trips to the hairdresser, her forced cheeriness, Marion was growing thinner and weaker by the day. Katy didn’t like being reminded of it, and her chin lifted.

“Nothing I do will help Mother,” she told him. “She’s not been the same since Cole ran Lacy off.”

“He didn’t run her off,” he said curtly. “She left.”

“What was there to stay here for?” she demanded, exasperated. “When he wasn’t ignoring her, he was treating her like a rug. They didn’t even share a room! Cole never wanted to marry her; Ben forced him to.”

“Little Ben has a bad case of exalted ego,” Turk said, his eyes cold. “Someone needs to show him how to be less self-centered.”

“Faye’s trying,” she said mischievously. “Maybe if she chases him long enough, she’ll catch him.”

“They’re worlds apart,” he replied, his gaze wistful, as if he were talking about someone else. “Nothing in common except their birthplace. He’s a city boy, despite the fact that he grew up here. She’s a country girl.”

“Two worlds can merge.” She looked at her feet. “You were a city boy,” she said. It was blatant fishing, because she didn’t know that. She knew nothing about Turk except his real name and his war record.

“No,” he replied. “I was born in Montana. I grew up on a ranch down on the Yellowstone.”

“You didn’t go back there after the war,” she murmured.

His eyes darkened as they studied her averted face. She was fishing. Always fishing, always wondering about him. He wondered about her, too, but it wouldn’t do to let it show. Cole had said hands-off, and he owed Cole too much to argue. Besides, he told himself, Katy was just a kid. She’d get over him.

“There was nothing to go back to,” he said. His eyes grew dull and sad as the memories came back. “Nothing at all.”

“Don’t you have family anywhere?” she asked curiously.

That shouldn’t have set him off, but it did. Sometimes Katy irritated him with her constant probing into his life. He didn’t like it. He didn’t want her any closer than she was right now. In that, he and Cole were almost too much alike. Okay. If she wanted the truth, she could have it. He stared harshly down at her. “I had a wife. She died one winter, while I was away selling cattle. She froze to death sitting up in a chair. She’d gotten sick and couldn’t build a fire. She was pregnant.”

Katy felt her body go rigid with the words. She looked up into a face like stone…and suddenly understood so much. A wounded man. A badly wounded man, heart dead, and he wanted no more of love or commitment. And now it all made sense. The way he’d avoided her, the way he went through women as if they were no more than toys with which to amuse himself. Of course. There was safety in numbers. If he had a lot of women, he didn’t have to worry about the risk of involvement.

Her face went white. She stared at him helplessly, all her dreams dying slowly in the green eyes that went quietly dead in her face.

He saw that, and his conscience stung. “Yes,” he said curtly. “Yes, I thought so. Bringing that Northern hoodlum down here, running wild, all of that was because of me, wasn’t it? Because I wasn’t dancing attendance on you!”

It hurt to hear it put into words. It stung her eyes and made them water.

He saw the tears and felt vaguely guilty. She was just a kid, after all. And even if he wanted her as much as she wanted him, there was no way it could work. He wasn’t sure he had anything to give. Like Cole said, Katy was too vulnerable for a quick affair.

“Katy, I’m sorry if that hurts. But, girl, I’ve got nothing left to give,” he said softly. “I don’t want your young heart, Katy. I can’t give you mine. I lost mine when I lost Lorene. If it weren’t for Cole, I wouldn’t even be alive. Don’t you understand? I loved her,” he said roughly. “I can’t ever love anyone else!”

“I haven’t asked you to love me! I don’t feel like that…” she burst out, hurt pride and frustrated passion making her wild.

“I’m not blind!” he tossed back, his gray eyes stormy. “You’ve followed me around, sighed over me, made love to me with your eyes for the past few months! You’ve done everything to make me notice you except strip naked!”

She drew back her hand and slapped him across the cheek as hard as she could. Her face was wet, and she didn’t even realize that it was soaking with spilled tears. She sobbed as she looked at the redness her fingers had made. “Damn you! Damn you! I don’t care about you. I never could!”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” he growled. It was all getting out of hand. He started to reach for her, to try and explain.

But she shrugged off his hands and ran, blind, uncertain of the direction she was taking. She ran past the corral where the remuda was kept, through the spread of mesquite trees with their feathery, thorned fronds blowing softly in the wind, down the trail into the hay barn. Sobbing, she fought her way through the bales to a dark, quiet corner and lay in the yellow, sweet-smelling hay, her body shaking from the force of her pain.

Her heart had fed for years on the hope of someday having Turk for her very own. She went to sleep dreaming of how it would be if he kissed her, if he loved her. She planned a future that was based on loving him, that included marriage and children. And now, none of it would ever happen. He had nothing to give. She didn’t know how she was going to stay alive….

Footsteps sounded behind her, but she wouldn’t look up. She knew she was in disgrace. Shame washed her in blushes. She couldn’t face him.

“You little fool,” Turk muttered. He knelt beside her, forcing her onto her back with hands that had no gentleness. He glared down at her, feeling impotent, hating the indignity of her behavior for both of them. “This won’t help, Katy.”

“Leave me alone,” she whispered, shaking. She rubbed her eyes with the backs of her hands. “Go away and let me be by myself.”

He caught her wrists and pulled her up, holding her in front of him, his gray eyes fierce as they held her tear-soaked green ones. “Listen to me, young lady. I came out of the war alive—when more than any damned thing, I wanted to die. Your brother forced me to go on; he got me off the bottle and gave me a job and I owe him for that. He said hands-off where you’re concerned, and by God, hands-off it’s going to be. Do you understand me?”

“You don’t need that for an excuse,” she shot back. “We both know you don’t want me!”

“Do we?” he asked under his breath.

The way she looked was tearing him apart. Loyalty to Cole stopped him only for a second. He’d watched her, too, although he hated admitting it. He’d watched her and wanted her for a long time, and only his conscience had kept him from running screaming to her room in the darkness. He wanted her. God, he did! And she wanted him, too. He could see it, almost taste it. Would it be so wrong, just one time, just once to hold her and touch her and end the exquisite torment of desire she aroused in him? Afterward, would she hate him? He tried to think of afterward, but the scent of her—the vulnerable tenderness in those big green eyes—made him reckless. Oh, to hell with it! She was going to give in to somebody, maybe that lousy gangster. So why should he hold back? At least, he wouldn’t hurt her….

His hands went out to her hips. In his kneeling position, he drew her roughly to his body and pressed her belly into his. He watched the shock in her eyes dilate the pupils until they were black, and he laughed bitterly as he felt her body stiffen in the blatantly intimate embrace.

“Do you feel that, Katy? Has your Chicago gangster taught you what it means?” he asked suggestively, dragging her hips slowly against the hard thrust of his to let her feel graphically the tangible proof of his desire.

Her nails bit into the hard round muscles of his arms through his brown-patterned shirt and she trembled. Her eyes were on his mouth now, because what he was showing her embarrassed her.