When Calhoun walked in the door in a dashing pale tan suit, Abby hit the wrong key, covering the contract with a flock of Xs. She grimaced, backspacing to correct her mistake, and then discovered that she couldn’t do it. The correction was too little, too late. Irritated, she ripped the paper out of the machine, put a clean sheet in and started all over again.
“Having problems this morning, honey?” Calhoun asked with his usual cheerful smile, despite the way they’d parted in anger the night before. He never carried grudges. It was one of his virtues.
“Just the usual frustrations, boss,” she answered with a blithe smile.
He searched her eyes. They had such a peculiar light in them lately. He found her more and more disturbing, especially when she wore close-fitting suits like the blue one she had on today. It clung lovingly to every line of her tall, slender body, outlining the thrust of her high breasts, the smooth curve of her hips. He took a slow breath, trying to hide his growing attraction to her. It was odd how she’d managed to get under his skin so easily.
“You look nice,” he said unexpectedly.
She felt color blush her cheeks, and she smiled. “Thank you.”
He hesitated without knowing why, his dark eyes caressing her face, her mouth. “I don’t like your hair like that,” he added quietly. “I like it long and loose.”
She was having a hard time breathing. Her eyes worked up his broad chest to his face and were trapped by his steady gaze. Like electricity, something burst between them, linking them, until she had to drag her eyes down again. Her legs actually trembled.
“I’d better get back to work,” she said unsteadily, fiddling with the paper.
“We both had,” he replied. He turned and walked into his office without knowing how he got there. Once inside, he sat down behind his big oak desk and stared through the open door at Abby until the buzz of the intercom reminded him of the day’s business.
Things went smoothly for a little while, but it was too much to expect that the serenity would last. Just before lunch, one of the cattlemen who had feeder steers in the lot came by to check on them and got an eyeful of Abby.
“You sure are a pretty little thing,” the man said, grinning down at the picture she made in her neat blue knit suit and white blouse with her hair in a French twist and a minimum of makeup on her pretty face. He was about Calhoun’s age.
She flushed. The man wasn’t as handsome as Calhoun, but he was pleasant-looking and he seemed harmless. “Thank you,” she said demurely, and smiled at him, just as she smiled at other customers. But he took it as an invitation.
He sat down on the corner of her desk, giving her a purely masculine scrutiny with his pale blue eyes. “I’m Greg Myers,” he introduced himself. “I just stopped in on my way to Oklahoma City, and I thought I’d take Calhoun to lunch if he’s in. But I think I’d rather take you instead.” He lowered his voice, then reached out unexpectedly and touched Abby’s cheek, ignoring her indrawn breath. “You pretty little thing. You look like a tea rose, ripe for the picking.”
Abby just gaped at him. All her reading and imagining hadn’t prepared her for this kind of flirtation with an experienced man. She was out of her depth and frankly stunned.
“Come on, now,” Myers drawled, caressing her cheek. “Say you will. We’ll have a nice long lunch and get to know each other.”
While Abby was searching for the right words to extricate herself from the unwelcome situation, Calhoun came out of his office and stood directly behind Mr. Myers, looking suddenly murderous.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to settle for me,” Calhoun said tersely. “Abby’s my ward, and she doesn’t date older men.”
“Oops.” Myers stood up, grinning sheepishly. “Sorry, old son, I didn’t know.”
“No harm done,” Calhoun said carelessly, but his eyes were dark and cold and dangerous-looking. “Let’s go. Abby, I’ll want the latest progress report on his cattle when we get back.”
Only a few months before, Abby might have had some snappy reply to that, or she might have jumped back at Calhoun for acting so possessive. But now she just looked at him, feeling helpless and hungry and awash on a wave of longing because he was acting jealous.
He seemed to stop breathing, too. His dark eyes searched hers, aware of her embarrassment, her confusion. He let his gaze fall to her mouth and watched her lips part suddenly, and his body reacted in a way that shocked him.
“Lunch. Now.” Calhoun ushered the other cattleman to the door. “If you’ll get in the car, I’ll just get my hat and be right with you,” he told the man with a glued-on smile and a pat on the shoulder. “That’s right, you go ahead….” He turned to Abby, his expression unreadable. “I want to talk to you.” Calhoun took her arm and pulled her up, leading her into his office without a word. He closed the door, and the way he looked at her made her feel threatened and wildly excited all at the same time.
“Mr. Myers is waiting….” she faltered, disturbed by the darkness of his eyes as they met hers.
He moved toward her, and she backed up until his desk stopped her, her eyes riveted to his. Maybe he was going to make a declaration!
His chin lifted then, and it was anger that glinted in his dark eyes, not possessiveness. “Listen,” he said curtly, “Grey Myers has had three wives. He currently has at least one mistress. He’s forgotten more than you’ve had time to learn. I don’t want you to learn that kind of lesson with a professional Romeo.”
“I’m going to learn it with someone eventually,” she said, swallowing hard. Her body felt odd, taut and tingling all at once, because his was close enough that she could feel its warm strength.
“I know that,” he said impatiently, and his face hardened. “But I’d just as soon you didn’t join a queue. Myers is no serious suitor. He’s a playboy with a smooth manner, and he’d have you screaming for help five minutes after you were alone with him.”
So that was it. More big-brother responsibility. He wasn’t jealous, he was upset because his protective instincts had been aroused. She stared at the steady rise and fall of his chest in dull acceptance. Stupid me, she thought miserably, wishing for a star again.
“I wasn’t trying to lead him on,” she said finally. “I just smiled at him, like I smile at everyone—even you. I guess he thought I was sending out smoke signals, but I wasn’t, honestly.”
His face relaxed. “No harm done.” And then he moved. One long, powerful arm slid behind her, bringing his lips within an inch of hers. She almost moaned at the minty warmth of his breath on her mouth. Her gaze dropped to his mouth, curiously tracing every hard line of the thin upper lip and the more chiseled lower one. Her heart throbbed. Her breath seemed to stop altogether, and for one long instant she felt the full weight of his chest against her soft breasts in a contact that was shocking. She looked up at him with wide, stunned eyes.
Then he moved back, the hat he’d been reaching for in one hand, his eyes frankly amused at the look on her face. So she’d never thought of him that way, had she? It irritated him to think that she didn’t feel the new and very unwelcome attraction he was discovering for her. It was just as well that he had a business function tonight; it would keep his overimaginative brain away from Abby.
“Were you expecting something?” he asked coldly. “I just wanted my hat.” He watched a shadow pass across her eyes before she mumbled something and lowered her gaze. He put his Stetson on his thick blonde-streaked hair and tilted it over one eye. “I hired you to work here, not to send out signals, intentional or otherwise, to clients.”
“I hate you,” she said suddenly, sick of his accusations and his hateful remarks.
“Sure you do. What else is new?” He tapped her chin with a long finger. “Get busy.”