Christmas On The Range: Winter Roses. Diana Palmer

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      “Certainly, dear. Need anything else from the kitchen?”

      “Could I have a bottle of water?” Ivy asked. “I always keep one by my bed at home.”

      “I’ll bring it up to you,” Mrs. Rhodes promised. “Merrie?”

      Merrie shook her head. “No, thanks, I keep diet sodas in my little fridge. I drink enough bottled water at school to float a boat!”

      “You said you could lend me a nightgown?” Ivy asked when they were at the top of the staircase.

      “Can and will. Come on.”

      Merrie pulled a beautiful nightgown and robe out of her closet and presented it to Ivy. It was sheer, lacy, palest lemon and absolutely the most beautiful thing Ivy had ever seen. Her nightgowns were cheap cotton ones in whichever colors were on sale. She caught her breath just looking at it.

      “It’s too expensive,” she protested.

      “It isn’t. It was a gift and I hate it,” Merrie said honestly. “You know I never wear yellow. One of my roommates drew my name at Christmas and bought it for me. I didn’t have the heart to tell her it wasn’t my color, I hugged her and said thank you. Then I hung it in the closet.”

      “I would have done the same,” Ivy had to admit. “Well, it’s beautiful.”

      “It will look beautiful on you. Go on to bed. Sleep late. We won’t need to get up before noon if we don’t want to.”

      “I never sleep past seven, even when I try,” Ivy said, smiling. “I always got up to make breakfast for Dad and Rachel, and then just for Dad after she left home.”

      “Mrs. Rhodes will make you breakfast, whenever you want it,” Merrie said. “Sleep well.”

      “You, too.”

      Ivy went into the bedroom that adjoined Merrie’s. There was a bathroom between the guest room and Stuart’s room, but Ivy wasn’t worried about that. Stuart was out of town and she’d have the bathroom all to herself if she needed it. She probably would, if she couldn’t sleep off the headache. They made her violently ill.

      She put on the nightgown and looked at herself in the full-length mirror. She was surprised at how she looked in it. Her breasts were small, but high and firm, and the gown emphasized their perfection. It flowed down her narrow waist to her full hips and long, elegant legs. She’d never worn anything so flattering.

      With her long blond hair and dark green eyes and silky, soft complexion, she looked like a fairy. She wasn’t pretty, but she wasn’t plain, either. She was slender and medium height, with a nice mouth and big eyes. Only one of the big eyes was seeing right now, though, and she needed sleep.

      There was a soft knock at the door. She opened it, and there was Mrs. Rhodes with the water. “Dear, you’re very pale,” the older woman said, concerned. “Are you all right?”

      Ivy sighed. “It was the chocolate. I’ve got a headache. I don’t want Merrie to know. She worries. I’ll just go to sleep, and I’ll be fine.”

      Mrs. Rhodes wasn’t convinced. She’d seen Ivy have these headaches, and she’d seen Stuart suffer through them. “Have you got something to take?”

      “In my purse,” Ivy lied. “I’ve got aspirin.”

      “Well, if you need something stronger, you come wake me up, okay?” she asked gently. “Stuart keeps medicine for them. I know where to look.”

      She smiled. “Thanks, Mrs. Rhodes. I really mean it.”

      “You just get some sleep. Call if you need me. I’m just across the hall from Merrie.”

      “I will. Thanks again.”

      * * *

      She dropped down on the queen-size bed and pulled the silken covers up over her. The room was a palace compared to her one-room apartment. Even the bathroom was larger than the room she lived in. Merrie took such wealth and luxury for granted, but Ivy didn’t. It was fascinating to her.

      The pain was vicious. The headaches always settled in one eye, and they felt as if a knife were being pushed right through the pupil. Some people called them “head-bangers” because sufferers had been known to knock their heads against walls in an effort to cope with the pain. Ivy groaned quietly and pushed her fist against the eye that had gone blind. The sight had returned to it, and the pain came with it.

      Volumes had been written on the vicious attacks. Comparing them to mild tension headaches was like comparing a hurricane to a spring breeze. Some people lost days of work every year to them. Others didn’t realize what sort of headaches they were and never consulted a doctor about them. Still others wound up in emergency rooms pleading for something to ease the pain. Hardly anything sold over the counter would even faze them. It usually took a prescription medicine to make them bearable. Ivy had never found anything that would stop the pain, regardless of its strength. The best she could hope for was that the pain would ease enough that she could endure it until it finally stopped.

      Around midnight, the pain spawned nausea and she was violently sick. By that time, the pain was a throbbing, stabbing wave of agony.

      She dabbed her mouth and eyes with a wet cloth and laid back down, trying again to sleep. But even though the nausea eased a little, the pain increased.

      She would have to go and find Mrs. Rhodes. On the way, she’d stop in the bathroom long enough to wet the cloth again.

      She opened the door, half out of her mind with pain, and walked right into a tall, muscular man wearing nothing except a pair of black silk pajama bottoms. Blue eyes bit into her green ones as she looked up, a long way up, into them.

      “What the hell are you doing here?” Stuart York demanded with a scowl.

       3

      Ivy hadn’t seen him in months. They didn’t travel in the same circles, and he was never at home when she was visiting Merrie. The sight of him so unexpectedly caused an odd breathlessness, an ache in the pit of her stomach.

      He was watching her intently, and there was an odd glint in his pale blue eyes, as if she’d disappointed him. He rarely smiled. He certainly wasn’t doing it now. His wide, sexy mouth was thin with impatience. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. His chest was broad and muscular and thick with black, curling hair that narrowed on its way down his belly. The silk pajama bottoms clung lovingly to the hard muscles of his thighs. He was as sexy as any television hero. Even with his thick, straight black hair slightly tousled and his eyes red from lack of sleep, he was every woman’s dream.

      “I was...looking for something,” she faltered.

      “Me?” he drawled sarcastically, and he reached for her. “Rachel told me all about you before she left town. I didn’t believe her at first.” His eyes slid down her exquisite body in the revealing gown. “But it looks as though she was right about you all along.”

      The feel of all that warm strength so close made her legs wobbly. There was СКАЧАТЬ