The Man She'll Marry

Nevertheless, as he watched her return to her table and saw that she was with Parker, he felt a glimmer of sympathy. He could read her blue eyes as if they were flashing neon letters a foot tall, and what he read in them was worry.

She ought to worry. Parker fancied himself a ladies’ man and he preferred fragile blondes. Tracy LeDeux was in for a night of sex-capades, though if she was as much like her soulless mother as he thought, she was promiscuous enough to handle it.

He was about to look away from Tracy and dismiss her presence altogether when he noticed her drink slip from her fingers. The glass tumbled to the table, but Tracy stared at it numbly. Her lashes fell shut heavily, then opened.

She turned her head to glance at her date, but she swayed with the movement. Parker reached over suddenly to steady her. Ty couldn’t have missed the gleam of anticipation in Parker’s smile. Or the woozy distress on Tracy’s face.

The dizziness had come over her suddenly. She was so weak, so horribly uncoordinated. The narrow tunnel that had shrunk the room grew darker and narrower with every hard beat of her heart. The terror she felt was overwhelming as the world swam away in a gray haze.

Tracy’s first coherent thought was that she felt safe. Cocooned. In spite of a faint headache, she felt an odd peace.

It was that strange sense of safety and peace that made her rouse herself. She rarely felt safe, and peace was a foreign sensation. The heavy guilt that had weighted her heart for so long had banished any sense of ease or genuine self-worth.

Was she truly awake or was she dreaming? She rolled to her back in the big bed and forced her eyes open, struggling to cling to the warm feelings. But the moment she got her eyes to focus, that rare sense of safety and peace vanished. This was not her bedroom.

The events of the night before came roaring back. Greg Parker’s face swam in her memory like a ghoul. The last thing she remembered was him advancing on her, picking her up, then…nothing. Nothing!

The mad whirl of terror made her stomach churn. She started to fling off the sheet and comforter to race for the bathroom, then froze as a second traumatic revelation pounded into her brain: she wasn’t wearing her dress!

The horror she felt burst out of her in a panicked sound of distress and she clutched the bedclothes to herself.

The rough male voice that sounded from the foot of the bed made her jump.

“Here.”

She barely had time to glance in the direction of the voice before a thick white terry-cloth robe came sailing through the air at her.

“Put that on and get cleaned up. Your dress is on a hook in the bathroom.”

Ty Cameron stood at the foot of the bed like an Old West lawman who’d tracked down an outlaw he meant to lynch. Contempt glinted in his cold gaze. The shock of his presence was quickly swallowed up by overwhelming mortification.

Shame made her voice a raspy little croak. “Wh-where am I?”

Ty’s harsh mouth quirked. “Sober up and figure it out.”

The words were a slap that sent scorching heat into her face. She felt the hurt to her soul when the look in his eyes suddenly switched to indifference. It was a look that let her know she’d been judged and found so in want that she wasn’t worth another second of his attention.

As if to underscore the impression, he turned from her and walked to the door. He closed it behind him with a finality that shook her.

The chill that descended sliced into her heart like a shard of ice. She was contemptible, unredeemable. With one look and a few terse words, Ty Cameron had somehow confirmed her secret fears about herself and her dark terrors about how her life would go.

She was wealthy, close to obscenely wealthy. At almost twenty-three, she was young and she still had her looks, but her life was worth nothing. She had no one. She had no real stability, no ambition, and no place to belong. There was no point to her life, no compelling reason to exist.

If she died at that moment, she wasn’t certain anyone but her mother would care. Even then, the only thing Ramona would want to know when she found out her only child was dead was whether Tracy had made a will and left her money.

Somehow, Tracy managed to mute her despairing thoughts. She had to pull herself together. Solving the mystery of what had happened to her and how she’d ended up with Ty Cameron was a distant second to the frantic need to get away from him.

Once she’d showered, brushed her teeth with the new toothbrush laid out, and tried to do something with her hair, Tracy hurried silently through the huge, single-story ranch house. She reached the large red-tiled entry hall and came to a shaky halt.

She knew she was at Cameron Ranch, but that also meant she was miles from San Antonio. She had no car and no way to leave.

Unless she could call a car rental agency and have a car delivered. Her heart sank. She’d need a credit card number for that, and all she had in her small evening bag was her driver’s license, a few cosmetics, and the key to her penthouse.

The deep voice that carried from the direction of the dining room sent her panic higher.

“Come in and get something to eat.”

The invitation was nothing more than basic good manners. Ty Cameron was the kind of man who’d at least feed a ratty stray before he chased it off or sent it to the pound. A touch of compassion, but an unwavering determination to do nothing more than was humane. And for all her money, Tracy LeDeux was the ratty stray.

Tracy started toward the sound of his voice on reluctant feet. Oh God, she’d hate to see his harsh face, to see the condemnation in his eyes. He despised her. Then again, she despised herself, so at least they agreed on something.

More of the events of the night before had come back to her, though she still didn’t recall anything after she’d felt the dizziness and Greg had zoomed close and picked her up.

What was clear was that whatever had happened next, Ty Cameron had brought her to his ranch and put her to bed. Somehow he’d cut Gregory III out of the equation.

She hoped it had been before Greg had succeeded at anything. Logic told her that although her head pounded, she felt queasy, and her nerves were on edge, there were no other physical aftereffects of the night before. No permanent consequences, no sexual shame to endure. At least not from last night.

But her terror of being that vulnerable undermined logical thought. Since it was clear to her now that Greg had drugged her, how much more had he done to rob her of choice? Black memories stirred and she felt their poison rise.

A wave of dizzy fear made her falter at the wide doorway into the large, formal dining room.

If Greg had violated her, he must have discarded her in some public place, which accounted for Ty’s rescue. And Ty was a man of the world. He’d know at a glance what had been done to her. Oh God…

“You should see a doctor.”

Ty’s grim words were somehow a veiled confirmation of her worst fears. Tracy put out a hand to the door frame, her knees trembling almost too much to hold her up.

“D-did he…” She couldn’t put her worst fear into words. She struggled to make herself look at Ty’s stern face and braced herself for his answer.

Ty sat at the head of the polished table that was set for lunch. He wore the usual cowboy clothes, denim and chambray, and by now he’d probably put in a half day’s work. His hard gaze took her in, then settled on her pale face and sharpened. He knew what she was asking.

“Did he what? Take what you offered?”

Emotion stung her eyes but she held it back. “I didn’t.”

Cynicism flashed over his handsome face. “What did you think would happen when you got drunk with someone like Parker? No one’s that naïve.”

Tracy’s heart quivered with hurt. She swallowed convulsively and fought for a scrap of dignity.

“I need to get back to San Antonio. C-can I use your phone?” She hated that she’d stuttered. Hated that she’d shown him anything of the shamed horror in her soul.

“You can borrow a car. I’ll have it picked up later.” He nodded toward the place that had been set for her at the table. “Come in and have something to eat.”

Tracy knew absolutely that she wouldn’t be able to swallow a bite of food. Not Ty Cameron’s food, not at his table, and certainly not under his condemning gaze. At the mercy of whatever devastating remark he’d make next.

“I need to go home now. I have to be somewhere.”

The lie made everything so much worse. It was another grim weight on a conscience already too heavily burdened.