Free Lone Star Winter by Diana Palmer Page B

gone to bed with. Except for our wedding night, and the night be fore he was killed, he slept in a separate bedroom.”
    No wonder she was the way she was, he mused as the light changed and he sent the big vehicle speeding forward. She probably felt like a total failure as a woman. The child must have been some sort of consolation, because she certainly wanted it.
    â€œI’ll bet you hate admitting that,” he said.
    â€œYes, I do. I felt inadequate, dull, boring, ” she muttered. “He liked blondes, but not me.”
    â€œHe liked that parcel service driver plenty,” he recalled, his eyes narrowing. “You were pitching hay over the fence to the cows and he was flirting with her, right under your nose. I never wanted to hit a man more.”
    Her lips parted on a quick breath. “You saw…that?”
    â€œI saw it,” he said curtly. “That’s why I stopped bylater and said something about the way you were pitching hay by yourself.”
    She shifted in the seat. “He said they were old friends,” she replied. “I guess he really meant they were former lovers. He never treated me to that sort of charm and flirting. He really wanted Dad’s ranch. It was a pity I went with the deal.”
    â€œIt was his loss that he took you for granted,” he corrected. “You’re not inadequate. You proved that earlier tonight, in the parking lot.”
    She cleared her throat. “An incident best forgotten.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œWhy?” She stared at him. “Walt’s only been dead two weeks, that’s why!”
    He stopped at a four-way stop and turned in his seat on the deserted road to look at her. “Lisa,” he said quietly, “it wouldn’t have mattered even if he’d still been alive, and you know it. What happened was mutual and explosive.”
    â€œIt was a fluke…”
    His hand reached out and his fingers traced her lower lip. She couldn’t even speak. “Would you like me to prove that it isn’t?” he asked quietly. “There are plenty of dirt roads between here and home, and the seats re cline all the way.”
    â€œCy Parks!”
    â€œBest of all,” he mused, “we wouldn’t even have to worry about pregnancy, would we?”
    Her face was scarlet; she knew it was. He was making her breathless with that torturous brush of his fingers, and she was vulnerable. She’d never really known desire until tonight, and she wished she could turn the clock back a day. Life was difficult enough without this new complication.
    He drew in a long breath and lifted his hand back to the steering wheel. “God knows I want to,” he said shortly, “but you’d die of shock and never speak to me again afterward.”
    â€œI…certainly…would,” she faltered, pushing her hair back unnecessarily just for something to do.
    He shook his head. He’d known her such a short time, really, but she seemed to hold his attention even when he wasn’t with her. Every future event he thought of these days, he considered her part in. It was disturbing to know that he considered her part of his life already.
    She fiddled with the top button on her coat. Her eyes were restless, moving from the dark horizon to the occasional lighted window flashing past as the utility vehicle picked up speed. What he’d said disturbed her, mostly because she knew it was true. She’d have goneanywhere with him, done anything with him. It made her guilty because she should be mourning Walt.
    â€œDon’t brood,” Cy told her. “You’re safe. No more torrid interludes tonight, I promise.”
    She fought a smile and lost. “You’re a terrible man.”
    â€œYou have no idea how terrible.” He paused to look both ways before he crossed a lonely intersection. “Harley’s fired your part-time hired hands, by the way.”
    â€œHe’s