The Cowboy and the Lady (19 page)

“Just perfect,” the saleslady promised, and named the house it had been designed by. Before Amanda could protest, she was shuttled off to a fitting room, where she was eased into the dream of luxury by deft, cool hands.

She stared at herself in the mirror. It had been so long since she’d worn such an expensive dress, felt the richness of organza against her slender body. The pale green highlighted her deep brown eyes, lent a hint of mystery to the shadows of her face. The color was good for her honey tan skin, too, giving it a rich gold color that went well with her long, wispy curls of silvery blond hair.

“Are you going to spend the day in there?” a deep, impatient voice grumbled from just outside the curtain.

She shifted her shoulders and walked out gracefully, her eyes apprehensive as his lightning gaze whipped over her while the saleslady stood smugly to one side.

“Isn’t it just perfect?” the older woman said with a smile.

“Perfect,” Jace said quietly, but he was looking at Amanda’s flushed face, not at the dress, and the look in his silver eyes made her knees go weak. “I’ll take it.”

Amanda took the dress off and waited for it to be boxed, her eyes on Jace’s expressionless face.

“I haven’t asked the price,” she said softly, “but it’s going to be an arm and a leg, Jace. I’d really rather get something…less costly.”

“I’m not poor,” he reminded her with a wry glance. “Remember?”

Her eyes lowered. She felt faintly sick inside. Was that what he thought of her, that she’d finally given in for mercenary reasons, that she was allowing herself to be bought for a few pretty clothes and an unlimited allowance? She stood with her head bowed while Jace got out his credit card and took care of the details. He handed her the box with the exclusive store name on it, watching quietly as she stared down at it blankly.

He sighed heavily, turning away. “Let’s go,” he said tightly.

He unlocked the door of his silver Mercedes and, taking the box from her, tossed it carelessly into the back seat before he went around and got in behind the wheel. There was a carefully controlled violence in the way he started the car and pulled it out into traffic.

“Well, don’t you like the damned dress?” he asked shortly.

“It’s very nice. Thank you.”

“Will you please, damn it, tell me what’s upset you?” he asked, slanting an irritated glance at her.

“Nothing,” she said softly. Her eyes were staring straight ahead, her heart breaking.

“Nothing.” His hands tightened on the wheel. “This isn’t the best way to begin a relationship, doe-eyes.”

“I know.” She drew in a steadying breath. “I love the dress, Jason. I just…I wish you hadn’t spent so much on me.”

“Don’t you think you’re worth it, honey? I do.” He reached across the console and took her hand in his, locking his hard, cool fingers into hers with a slow, sensuous pressure that made her breath catch.

She stared down at his brown fingers, so dark against her soft tan. His hand squeezed warmly, swallowing hers, his thumb caressing. “You’re so dark,” she murmured.

“And you’re so fair,” he replied. He glanced at her briefly before he turned his attention back to traffic. “I’m sorry I have to go to the office. I’d rather spend the day with you.”

She sighed wistfully, looking down again. “I’d have liked that,” she murmured absently.

“So would I.” He drew his hand away to make a turn, and there was a comfortable silence between them until they pulled up in front of the house. “I won’t be here until the last minute, but wait for me,” he told her. “You’re going to the Sullevans’ with me, not with Duncan.”

“Yes, Jason,” she said gently.

He leaned across her to open the door, his face barely an inch away, and she could smell the expensive tang of his cologne, the smoky warmth of his breath. Her eyes lingered on the hard lines of his dark face and involuntarily fell to his mouth. Impulsively she moved her head a fraction of an inch and brushed her lips against his.

He caught his breath, his eyes suddenly fiery, burning with emotion.

“Sorry,” she whispered, shaken by the violence in the look.

“For what?” he asked tautly. “Do you have to have permission to kiss me, to touch me?”

“I…I’m not used to it.”

“I told you this morning,” he said gruffly, “I love the feel of your hands on me. My God, you could climb into bed with me if you felt like it, and I’d hold my arms open for you, don’t you know that?”

She reached up and tentatively brushed a strand of hair away from his broad forehead, her eyes warm on his face. “It’s so new,” she whispered.

“Yes.” He bent and took her mouth gently under his, probing her soft lips, his breath whispering against her cheek as his hand held her throat, holding her face up. “Oh, God, your mouth is so soft,” he whispered tenderly, “I could spend the rest of my life kissing you.”

She reached up and slid her arms around his neck. “I like kissing you, too,” she murmured. She kissed him back, hard, her arms possessive.

“Don’t go to work,” she whispered.

“If I stay here, I’ll make love to you,” he murmured against her eager mouth, his hands cupping her face while he tasted every sweet curve of her lips. “And I don’t want to do that yet.”

“I think that’s a terrible thing to say,” she murmured back.

His lips smiled against hers. “I want it to be just right with you,” he whispered.

She felt a tingle of excitement run the length of her body as the words made pictures in her mind. Jace’s body against hers on cool, crisp sheets, the darkness all around them, his mouth on her soft skin…

“You trembled,” he whispered softly. “Thinking about how it would be with me?”

“Yes,” she admitted breathlessly.

“God…!” He half lifted her across the seat, crushing her against his hard chest, his mouth suddenly rough, demanding, as it opened on hers. She went under in a maze of surging emotion, moaning softly at the hunger he was arousing.

All at once he let her go, easing her away from him breath by breath, his eyes stormy, hungry. “Get out of here before I wrestle you down on the floorboard,” he murmured half-humorously.

“Pagan,” she breathed, easing her long legs out the door.

“Puritan,” he countered. “I’ll see you tonight. And don’t put your hair up. Leave it like that.”

She got her box out and stared at him through the open door. “It won’t look elegant enough,” she argued.

“I don’t want you elegant,” he returned, his eyes sliding over her. “I want you just the way you are, no changes. Remember, wait for me.”

“All right.”

He closed the door and drove off without looking back.

* * *

That evening she stood in her bedroom, dressed in the exquisite gown Jace had bought for her. It fit like a caressing glove. She stared in the mirror as if she’d never seen her own reflection, marvelling at the soft lines that emphasized all her best features. With its curling mass of layered ruffles the frothy skirt drew attention to her long, slender legs. The bodice clung to her small, high breasts, draping across them with just a hint of sensuality. And the cut emphasized just how tiny her waist really was. The green-and-white pattern was the perfect foil for her blond fairness, lending her a sophistication far beyond her years. With her hair long and soft down her back, she looked more like a model than an advertising executive.

She was nervous when she went downstairs an hour later, to join Jace and Duncan and Marguerite in the living room where they were enjoying a last-minute drink.

They were deep in a discussion, but Jace turned in time to watch her entrance, and something flashed like silver candles in his eyes as they traveled slowly over her. Something strangely new lingered there…pride…possession…

Her own eyes were drawn to the figure he cut in his elegant evening clothes. The darkness of the suit, added to the frothy whiteness of his silk shirt, gave him a suave masculinity that made her want to touch him. He was devastating, like something out of a men’s fashion magazine, and as completely unaware of his own attraction as a cat of its mysterious eyes.

Two other heads turned abruptly, their attention caught by the utter silence, and Duncan let loose a long, leering whistle.

“Wow!” he burst out, moving forward to walk around her like a prospective buyer around a sleek new car. “If you aren’t a dream and a half. Where did you get that dress?”

“The tooth fairy brought it,” she said lightly, avoiding Jace’s possessive eyes.

Marguerite laughed. “You’re a vision, Amanda. What a lovely dress!”

“Thank you,” she murmured demurely.

Duncan started to take her arm, only to find Jace there ahead of him. “My turn, I think,” he said with a level look that started Duncan backstepping.

“Who am I to argue?” Duncan teased. He turned to Marguerite. “Mother?”

Marguerite moved forward, very elegant in her pale blue satin gown and fox stole. “Oh, Amanda, I forgot…your arms will chill in the night air!”

“No, they won’t!” Amanda argued quickly, already dreading that chill, but too proud to accept charity.

“Nonsense! I have a lovely shawl. Just a minute.” And she walked to the hall closet, coming instantly back with a black mantilla-style shawl which she draped around the young girl’s shoulders. “Now! Just the thing, too. It makes you look mysterious.”

“I feel rather mysterious,” Amanda said with a smile, and caught her breath as Jace came up beside her to guide her out the door with a lean, warm hand at her waist.

* * *

Amanda had never been as aware of Jace as she was on the way to the Sullevans’ house. Her eyes were involuntarily drawn to his hard profile, his mouth, and she felt swirls of excitement running over her smooth skin at the memory of his kisses. He glanced sideways once and met her searching eyes as they stopped for a red light, and the force of his gaze knocked the breath out of her. She let her eyes fall to his lean, strong hands on the steering wheel, and it was all she could do not to lean across and run her fingers over them. If only things had been different. She was Jace’s woman now, but not the way she wanted to be. He thought she was only interested in his money, when all she truly wanted was to be allowed to love him. Her eyes stared blankly out the window. She wondered miserably how he was going to arrange it all. Would she have an apartment in town? Or would he buy her a house? She flushed, thinking of Marguerite’s face when Jace told her. No back alleys, he’d said, but then he wasn’t considering how much it was going to hurt Amanda. Why should he, she thought bitterly, he was a man. Men considered their own pleasure, nothing else, and it wouldn’t hurt his reputation.

The big house was ablaze with light when they got there, and Amanda felt dwarfed by Jace even in her spiked heels as they walked into the foyer to be met by Mr. Sullevan, Marguerite’s co-host. The elegant entranceway was graced by a huge Waterford crystal chandelier, cloud-soft eggshell-white carpet under their feet and priceless objets d’art on dainty tables lining the walls.

“What a showplace!” Duncan murmured, walking into the crowded ballroom with Jace and Amanda while his mother remained behind to help greet the other guests.

“Old money,” Jace replied coolly. “This spread was part of a Spanish land grant.”

“Well, it’s something. And speaking of things that are easy on the eyes,” Duncan added with a mock leer at Amanda, “that’s an enticing little number you’re wearing tonight. You never did tell me where you got it.”

Jace’s eyes glittered a warning at his brother, and his hand found Amanda’s at the same time, linking his fingers with hers in a possessive grasp.

“I bought it for her,” he told Duncan, his voice soft and dangerous.

That note in Jace’s deep tones was enough for Duncan. He’d heard it too many times not to recognize it.

“Excuse me,” he murmured with a wry smile at Amanda. “I think I’ll go scout the territory for single beauties. See you later.”

Amanda’s face was a wild rose. She couldn’t even look at Jace. “Was that necessary?” she said in an embarrassed, strangled tone.

“You’re mine,” he replied curtly. “The sooner he knows it, the safer he’s going to be.”

She looked up at him. “You made me sound cheap, Jason,” she said in a voice that trembled with hurt.

His eyes narrowed, his face hardened at the remark, as if he couldn’t believe what she’d said. “What the hell are you talking about? I can’t understand you, Amanda. I’ve already offered you everything I mean to. Now you’d better damn well make up your mind to take it or leave it!”

With a small cry, she tore away from him and ran through the crowd to where Duncan was sipping punch at the buffet table beside the crystal punch bowl.

He took one look at her white face and handed her a small crystal cup of punch, his eyes glancing across the room to Jace’s rigid back in a semicircle of local cattlemen.

“You’re safe,” he told Amanda. “He’ll do nothing but talk cattle futures for the next half hour or so. What happened this time?”

Her lower lip trembled. “He said…oh, never mind, Duncan.” She sighed wearily. “What’s the use? As far as Jason’s concerned, the only asset he’s got is a fat wallet.” She laughed mirthlessly. “I think I’ll become a professional gold digger.”

“You haven’t got the look,” Duncan said blandly. “Have a sandwich.”

She took it. “Do I look hungry?” she asked.

“As if you’d like to bite something,” he mused, winking. “Don’t let him get to you, Mandy. He just doesn’t know what’s hit him, that’s all.”

“I wish it were that simple.” She sighed with a smile.

“It’s not?”

If you only knew, she thought humorously. She stared at the cup of punch and realized she was feeling lightheaded. “What’s in this?” she asked.

“Half the liquor cabinet,” Duncan replied with a grin. “Go slow.”

“Maybe I feel reckless,” she replied, throwing down the rest of the punch. She handed him her empty cup. “Pour me another round, masked stranger.”

“I don’t think this is a wise idea,” he reminded her, but he filled the small crystal cup again.

“I don’t think so either,” she agreed. “It’s better not to think—it gets you in trouble.”