Rawhide and Lace. Diana Palmer

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СКАЧАТЬ to apologize, to explain what he’d felt and why he’d lied to her about his motives. And early the next morning, she’d left.

      Bruce had hated him for that. He’d guessed what had happened, and he’d followed Erin to wring the truth from her. A day later he’d moved out, to live with a friend in San Antonio. Erin had gone on to a career in New York; her face had haunted him from the covers of slick magazines for several weeks.

      That night haunted him, too. It had been all of heaven to have her. And then, all at once, he’d realized that she might see his lack of control for what it was; that she might realize he was vulnerable with her and take advantage of it. God forgive him, he’d even thought she might have planned it that way. And she was so beautiful; too beautiful to care about an ugly man, a man so inexperienced at making love. His father’s lectures returned with a vengeance, and he’d convinced himself in a space of seconds that he’d been had. She was Bruce’s, not his. He could never have her. So it was just as well that he’d let her go out of his life….

      Bruce had gotten even, just before he’d left the house for good. He’d told Ty that Erin had hated what Ty had done to her, that his “fumbling attempts at lovemaking” had sickened her. Then he’d walked out triumphantly, leaving Ty so sick and humiliated that he’d finished off a bottle of tequila and spent two days in a stupor.

      Erin had come back to the ranch two months later, and it had been Ty she’d wanted to talk to, not Bruce. He’d been coming out of the stables leading a brood mare, and she’d driven up in a little sports car, much like the one Bruce would die in almost six months later….

      * * *

      “I have to talk to you,” she said in her soft, clear voice. Her eyes were soft, too; full of secrets.

      “What do we have to talk about?” Ty replied, his own tone uncompromising, careless.

      “If you’ll just listen…” she said, looking at him with an odd kind of pleading in her green eyes.

      Against his will, he was drawn to her as she poised there in a green print dress that clung lovingly to every soft line of her high-breasted body, the wind whipping her long black hair around her like a shawl. He forced himself to speak coldly, mockingly.

      “Aren’t you a vision, baby doll?” His eyes traveled pointedly over her body. “How many men have you had since you left here?”

      She flinched. “No…no one,” she faltered, as if she hadn’t expected the attack. “There hasn’t been anyone except you.”

      He threw back his head and laughed, his eyes as cold as silver in a face like stone. “That’s a good one. Just don’t set your sights on Bruce,” he warned softly. “Maybe my plan backfired, but I can still stop him from marrying you. I don’t want someone like you in my family. My God, you’ve got a mother who makes a professional streetwalker look like a virgin, and your father was little more than a con man who died in prison! It’d make me sick to have to introduce you into our circle of friends.”

      Her face paled, her eyes lost their softness. “I can’t help what my people were,” she said quietly. “But you’ve got to listen to me! That night…”

      “What about it?” he demanded, his voice faintly bored. “I’d planned to seduce you and then tell Bruce, but you left without forcing my hand. So, no harm done.” To avoid looking at her, he bent his head to light a cigarette. Then he glanced up, his eyes narrowed and ugly. “You were just a one-night stand, honey. And one night was enough.”

      That brought her to tears, and he felt a pain like a knife going into his gut despite the fact that he was justified in that lie. She’d told it all to Bruce, hadn’t she? “What a sacrifice it must have been for you,” she whispered in anguish. “I must have been a terrible disappointment.”

      “I’ll amen that,” he told her. “You were a total failure, weren’t you? Why did you come down here, anyway? Bruce doesn’t come here anymore, and don’t pretend you don’t know it.”

      “I’m not looking for Bruce,” she burst out. “Oh, Ty, I haven’t seen him since I left here! It’s you I came to see. There’s something I’ve got to tell you…!”

      “I’ve got livestock to look after,” he said indifferently, dismissing her. “Get out of here. Go model a gown or something.”

      Her eyes grew dull then; something died in them. She looked at him for a long, quiet moment, almost said something else; then, as if defeated, turned away.

      “Just a minute,” he called after her.

      She’d turned, an expression of hope on her face. “Yes?”

      He smiled down at her mockingly, forcing himself not to weaken, not to let her get the best of him. “If you came to see me because you wanted another roll in the hay, I’ll let the cattle wait for a few minutes,” he offered. “Maybe you’ve improved since the last time.”

      Her eyes closed, her face contorted as if in pain. “How could you, Tyson?” she whispered, then opened her eyes to reveal an anguish so profound that Ty was forced to look away. But the agony in her voice pierced his soul. “How could you? Oh, God, you don’t know how much I…!”

      Almost. He almost abandoned his lacerated pride and went to her. His feet even started to move. But suddenly, she whirled and ran to her car, gunned it to life and raced frantically down the long drive, sending the small convertible sliding on the gravel as she shot it out onto the paved road. He watched the car until it was out of sight, feeling empty and cold and lonely….

      * * *

      That was the last time he’d seen Erin Scott. And now Bruce was dead. He wondered if she’d still been seeing his brother. Bruce hadn’t mentioned her. Of course, he’d hardly spoken to Ty in all those months. That had hurt, too. Lately, just about everything did.

      He crushed out the cigarette. There were funeral arrangements to make. He thought about the roommate Bruce had moved in with and wondered if he knew. He got into the car and went directly to the apartment. It might help to talk to someone who knew Bruce, who could tell him if Bruce had ever forgiven him for driving Erin away. It was very nearly a need for absolution, but Tyson Wade would never have admitted it. Not even to himself.

       Chapter Two

      Bruce’s roommate was a rather shy accountant, a nice man without complexities and as pleasant as Bruce had always been. He was drinking heavily when Ty entered the apartment.

      “I’m so sorry,” Sam Harris said with genuine feeling, raking back his sandy-blond hair. “I heard it on television just a few minutes ago. God, I’m so sorry. He was a great guy.”

      “Yes,” Ty said quietly. He stuck his hands in his pockets and looked around the small apartment. There was nothing to indicate that Bruce had ever lived there except a large photograph of Erin in a swimsuit pose beside one of the twin beds. Ty felt himself stiffening at the sight of it.

      “Poor old guy,” Sam said wearily, sinking down onto the sofa with a shot glass in his hands. “He worshiped that girl, but she never even let him get close.” He nodded toward the bed. “There’s a whole box of letters she sent back last week under there.”

      Ty’s heart froze. “Letters?”

      “Sure.” СКАЧАТЬ