His eyes flicked over her and moved away, back to the rain. He tossed the chaps and his hat aside, idly reaching in his pocket for a cigarette. She watched him light it, her eyes drawn to his strong, tanned fingers as they worked the lighter. The nails were flat and clean, despite the manual labor he occasionally engaged in.
“I didn’t know you still rode broncs,” she said, breaking the tense silence.
“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me,” he replied without looking at her. He leaned against the barn wall and stared out at the rain with narrowed gray eyes.
That was true. Cole had always been something of a mystery: a secretive, very private person who allowed no one, not even his stepsister, too close.
“Cole, what have I done?” she asked suddenly, unable to bear his coolness a second longer.
He still didn’t look at her. “What makes you think you’ve done anything?”
She lowered her eyes to the ground and moved the wood shavings around lightly with the toe of her boot. “I don’t know…you’re very distant with me lately.”
He laughed mirthlessly, with a sound that was as harsh as the rapping of the rain on the roof or the rumble of thunder.
“Don’t laugh,” she murmured. “We were always close, even when we argued. But it’s all changed now, and I don’t understand why.”
He took a long draw from the cigarette. The howl of the wind echoed through the cozy warmth of the barn; the thunder made the ground shiver. Without warning, his eyes came around to pierce hers, and the intensity of his gaze made her want to back away. “You made the choice, not me,” he said roughly.
She blinked at him. “What choice?”
“To turn your back on your family and carve out a career for yourself,” he said coldly.
She felt shivers run down her arms and she averted her eyes. “You’ll never forgive me for that, will you? It was the first time in my life I ever went against you, and you’ll die remembering.” She shook back her hair angrily. “I worshiped you, Cole!” she threw at him, her eyes half-hurt, half-angry.
His jaw went taut. “When will you understand that I don’t want hero worship from you?” he shot at her.
Her lower lip pouted at him. “What do you want?” she challenged.
He threw the cigarette outside into the rain and moved toward her before she could read the intent in his glittering eyes. She shrank back against the rough boards as he propped his lean, brown hands on the wall on either side of her head and eased his body completely down against hers, pinning her there in a silence that burned with emotion. She felt his chest, warm and hard through the layers of clothing, pressing against her soft breasts, his flat stomach and powerful legs in intimate contact with her own.
“Let me show you what I want,” he growled, and what she read in his eyes made her pulse run wild with frightened anticipation.
“Cole…you can’t!” she whispered shakily, her eyes wide and bright.
His eyes dropped to her soft mouth. “Why can’t I?” he challenged. “You’ve done everything but go down on your knees and beg me for it since you came out of the hospital.”
She opened her mouth to deny it, and his dark head bent swiftly. He caught her parted lips with his own, and she felt their rough, demanding warmth for the first time. Her body went rigid as he twisted her lips roughly under his, not a trace of gentleness in him. He was angry and the kiss was the medium of that anger. She moaned weakly under the painful crush of his mouth, his body.
He drew back, breathing hard, his eyes blazing straight into hers from a distance of inches. He studied her tear-bright eyes mercilessly. “How does it feel?” he demanded gruffly.
Her lips trembled. “I…I don’t know,” she whispered, shaken by the close contact with his powerful, hard-muscled body, by the scent of tobacco and oriental cologne that clung to him, by the lingering taste of his mouth.
“You wanted it,” he accused, something violent in the flash of his eyes.
Her breath caught on a sob. “Not anymore,” she got out. “Please let me go.”
He hesitated an instant before he shoved himself away from her and stepped back. His eyes surveyed the damage, the tears shining beneath her eyelashes, the sudden pallor of her face. Then she darted out the door into the storm, oblivious to the driving rain that drenched her before she reached the safety of the house. She was equally oblivious to the narrowed gray eyes that watched her every step of the way.
Chapter Four
Heather pleaded a headache and avoided going to the supper table, thankful that Emma didn’t pursue her with tablets or questions. She didn’t know that the older woman had immediately spotted the heightened color of her face and the shocked confusion in her eyes.
She went straight up to her own room to lock herself in and stare dumbfounded at the image in her mirror. Her face was a stranger’s, with its wide, blue eyes and wildly flushed cheeks. Her mouth had a suddenly passionate look about it, and even now she could taste the smoky warmth of Cole’s mouth with her tongue.
Her eyes closed against the image. Her body could still feel the powerful crush of his. She’d never realized before just how strong he really was. No amount of effort on her part would have freed her—despite the fact that she’d been too shocked to struggle. And he’d had the audacity to say she’d tempted him!
Tempted him, indeed! As if she would have dared to measure her inexperience against his expertise. Not even a novice could have come out of those powerful arms ignorant of the fact that he’d had women. Despite his anger, he had been devastatingly expert. She was grateful that he hadn’t been persuasive as well, because she’d never have been able to resist him.
She folded her arms around her shivering body and went to the window to watch the rain come down. Had she tempted him? If looking at him or touching him was temptation, why hadn’t this happened years ago? She sighed, shaking her tousled head. He’d always known that she put him on a pedestal in her mind. Why had he suddenly decided to come tumbling down from it?
The questions nagged at her far into the night. She wanted to run, like a calf faced with a branding iron. She was afraid of Cole in a new and exciting way. She’d seen him as a lover, and it frightened her to be vulnerable to him.
She thought about leaving Big Spur to go back to Houston. She could call one of her many contacts in the entertainment world and try to line up a job. But was that what she really wanted? She hadn’t yet tested her singing voice and she knew that her hesitancy came from a reluctance to make any hard and fast decisions about her career. It was her singing that had caused the breach between her and Cole—should she continue to pursue it despite his objections?
She had already begun to question herself about her career before the accident. Now those doubts returned to haunt her.
In her weakened state, how would she adjust to the exhausting pace of an engagement schedule? Two shows a night, every night, six days a week, and constant rehearsals. And how would she fight the overwhelming loneliness that assailed her every time she ran away from Big Spur and Cole?
* * *
She went down the stairs reluctantly the next morning, dressed in jeans and a soft yellow V-necked sweater, her hair in a sophisticated French twist at the back of her long, graceful neck. She was hoping against hope that Cole would be off on another trip, or downtown at his business office in Branntville.
But he was still at the breakfast table, alone and brooding. His fingers toyed with a coffee