have the
financial resources; she'd started out in a hole so deep that she'd been doomed
to fail from the beginning. She would wear herself to the bone, maybe even get
hurt, but in the end it would come full circle and she would need someone to
take care of her. All he could do was wait, try to watch out for her, and be
there to step in when everything caved in around her. By then she'd be glad to
lean on a strong shoulder, to take the place in life she'd been born to occupy.
But he wasn't going to step back and let her
pretend nothing had happened between them the night before. She was his now,
and she had to understand that before he left. The knowledge had to be burned
into her flesh the way it was burned into his, and maybe it would take a lesson
in broad daylight for her to believe it. He dropped his shirt and slowly
unzipped his pants, watching her. When he left, he'd leave his touch on her
body and his taste in her mouth, and she'd feel him, taste him, think of him
every time she climbed into this bed without him.
Her green eyes widened, and color bloomed on
her cheekbones. Nervously she glanced at the bed, then back at him.
His heart began slamming heavily against his
rib cage. He wanted to feel the firmness of her breasts in his hands again,
feel her nipples harden in his mouth. She whispered his name as he dropped his
pants and came toward her, putting his hands on her waist, which was so slender
that he felt he might break her in two if he wasn't careful.
As he bent toward her, Michelle's head fell
back as if it were too heavy for her neck to support He instantly took
advantage of her vulnerable throat, his mouth burning a path down its length.
She had wanted to deny the force of what had happened, but her body was
responding feverishly to him, straining against him in search of the mindless
ecstasy he'd given her before. She no longer had the protection of ignorance.
He was addictive, and she'd already become hooked. As he took her down to the
bed, covering her with his heated nakedness, she didn't even think of denying
him, or herself.
Are you on the pill?
No.
Damn
. Then,
How long until your next period
?
Soon. Don't worry. The timing isn't
right.
Famous last words. You'd better get a
prescription.
I can't take the pill. I've tried; it
makes me throw up all day long. Just like being pregnant.
Then we'll do something else. Do you want
to take care of it, or do you want me to?
The remembered conversation kept replaying in
her mind; he couldn't have made it plainer that he considered the relationship
to be an ongoing one. He had been so matter-of-fact that it hadn't registered
on her until later, but now she realized her acquiescent "I will" had
acknowledged and accepted his right to make love to her. It hadn't hit her
until he'd kissed her and had driven away that his eyes had been gleaming with
satisfaction that had nothing to do with being physically sated.
She had some paperwork to do and forced
herself to concentrate on it, but that only brought more problems to mind. The
stack of unpaid bills was growing, and she didn't know how much longer she
could hold her creditors off. They needed their money, too. She needed to
fatten the cattle before selling them, but she didn't have the money for grain.
Over and over she tried to estimate how much feed would cost, balanced against
how much extra she could expect from the sale of heavier cattle. An experienced
rancher would have known, but all she had to go on were the records her father
had kept, and she didn't know how accurate they were. Her father had been
wildly enthusiastic about his ranch, but he'd relied on his foreman's advice to
run it.
She could ask John, but he'd use it as
another chance to tell her that she couldn't do it on her own.
The telephone rang, and she answered it
absently.
"Michelle, darling."
The hot rush of nausea hit her stomach, and
she jabbed the button, disconnecting the call. Her hands were shaking as she
replaced the
financial resources; she'd started out in a hole so deep that she'd been doomed
to fail from the beginning. She would wear herself to the bone, maybe even get
hurt, but in the end it would come full circle and she would need someone to
take care of her. All he could do was wait, try to watch out for her, and be
there to step in when everything caved in around her. By then she'd be glad to
lean on a strong shoulder, to take the place in life she'd been born to occupy.
But he wasn't going to step back and let her
pretend nothing had happened between them the night before. She was his now,
and she had to understand that before he left. The knowledge had to be burned
into her flesh the way it was burned into his, and maybe it would take a lesson
in broad daylight for her to believe it. He dropped his shirt and slowly
unzipped his pants, watching her. When he left, he'd leave his touch on her
body and his taste in her mouth, and she'd feel him, taste him, think of him
every time she climbed into this bed without him.
Her green eyes widened, and color bloomed on
her cheekbones. Nervously she glanced at the bed, then back at him.
His heart began slamming heavily against his
rib cage. He wanted to feel the firmness of her breasts in his hands again,
feel her nipples harden in his mouth. She whispered his name as he dropped his
pants and came toward her, putting his hands on her waist, which was so slender
that he felt he might break her in two if he wasn't careful.
As he bent toward her, Michelle's head fell
back as if it were too heavy for her neck to support He instantly took
advantage of her vulnerable throat, his mouth burning a path down its length.
She had wanted to deny the force of what had happened, but her body was
responding feverishly to him, straining against him in search of the mindless
ecstasy he'd given her before. She no longer had the protection of ignorance.
He was addictive, and she'd already become hooked. As he took her down to the
bed, covering her with his heated nakedness, she didn't even think of denying
him, or herself.
Are you on the pill?
No.
Damn
. Then,
How long until your next period
?
Soon. Don't worry. The timing isn't
right.
Famous last words. You'd better get a
prescription.
I can't take the pill. I've tried; it
makes me throw up all day long. Just like being pregnant.
Then we'll do something else. Do you want
to take care of it, or do you want me to?
The remembered conversation kept replaying in
her mind; he couldn't have made it plainer that he considered the relationship
to be an ongoing one. He had been so matter-of-fact that it hadn't registered
on her until later, but now she realized her acquiescent "I will" had
acknowledged and accepted his right to make love to her. It hadn't hit her
until he'd kissed her and had driven away that his eyes had been gleaming with
satisfaction that had nothing to do with being physically sated.
She had some paperwork to do and forced
herself to concentrate on it, but that only brought more problems to mind. The
stack of unpaid bills was growing, and she didn't know how much longer she
could hold her creditors off. They needed their money, too. She needed to
fatten the cattle before selling them, but she didn't have the money for grain.
Over and over she tried to estimate how much feed would cost, balanced against
how much extra she could expect from the sale of heavier cattle. An experienced
rancher would have known, but all she had to go on were the records her father
had kept, and she didn't know how accurate they were. Her father had been
wildly enthusiastic about his ranch, but he'd relied on his foreman's advice to
run it.
She could ask John, but he'd use it as
another chance to tell her that she couldn't do it on her own.
The telephone rang, and she answered it
absently.
"Michelle, darling."
The hot rush of nausea hit her stomach, and
she jabbed the button, disconnecting the call. Her hands were shaking as she
replaced the
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