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384 pages, Kindle Edition
Published October 29, 2019
Cort chuckled. “I have no wish to be herded into marriage because a woman got careless in bed with me.”
“Practical solution is to carry protection with you.”
He shrugged. “I used to. But these days the majority of women are on the pill or the shot or whatever the hell they use these days. I never met a single one who wasn’t a fanatic about birth control. They all had careers in mind, even the models.”
He didn’t need to ask if she’d been taking a preventative. He was sure she hadn’t. And he wasn’t used to being expected to provide protection, so he’d had nothing with him. Even if he had, they were both too involved too quickly for him to have thought of it.
Great, he thought privately, now she’ll get pregnant and she’ll have it made until the kid graduates. All the money she’s never had...
Women had been a permissible pleasure for many years, and while no playboy, he’d had his share of beautiful, cultured lovers. The problem was that after a time, they all looked alike, felt alike, sounded alike.
Cort had never liked the girl-next-door sort of woman.
“Knitting,” Cort scoffed. The plain woman looked up at him with big brown eyes in a pleasant but not really pretty face. She wore no makeup at all. Shame, he thought. She might not look half-bad if she tried to look attractive. Nice mouth, rounded chin, pretty complexion. But she dressed like a bag lady, and that tightly pulled-up hair wasn’t at all appealing.
“I guess a woman as pitiful looking as you has plenty of time to knit, for lack of a social life.”
Odd, for a city woman to have them on. Maybe they were in style. On the other hand, what would such an unattractive woman care about style?
“Our father alienated my brother Cash, so badly that even after our stepmother left, Cash wouldn’t speak to him. He wouldn’t speak to Garon or Parker or me, either, because we sided with the mercenary woman.”
“Stuff of legends, my brother,” Cort agreed, trying not to feel smaller at the comparison.
“He’s a rounder,” Sassy said, confirming her suspicions. “I don’t know him, but John does. He met him at some cattle convention he went to before we married. He says the man collects women like a car collects pollen in the spring.”
Cort’s pale brown eyes swept over her. “Not bad, for a homemade dress,” he said indifferently. She flushed. He made her feel poor and cheap.
“And I thought this party was going to be dull,” Cort mused. His eyes were focused on the refreshment table. Or, rather, what was standing beside it. Ida Merridan was giving Cort the eye, smiling like a tiger looking over a piece of juicy meat. “Who’s the gorgeous lady?” he asked Bart, with a smug, dismissive glance at Mina before his eyes went back to the brunette. “That’s Ida Merridan,” Bart told him. “She’s divorced from her second husband.” He pursed his sensuous lips. “What sort of fool divorces a woman who looks like that?” Cort wondered. “Men who can see beyond makeup,” Mina quipped. “But then, it takes a discerning man to manage that.” She smiled demurely. Cort glared at her. “At least she doesn’t dress like a woman from the Third Crusade,” he said in a soft, cutting tone, his eyes disparaging Mina’s very conventional dress. She just looked at him and smiled, her heart breaking at the sarcasm that came so easily to him. “Oh, I don’t have a good divorce lawyer, much less a rich ex-husband, so I can hardly aspire to her wardrobe.”
“You could hardly aspire to a man, full stop,” he retorted, turning to go. “Cort, for God’s sake,” Bart began.
Cort, who was just drawing the divorcée onto the dance floor.
A bluesy tune was playing now, and Cort Grier had Ida wrapped around him like ivy. The way he was holding her made Mina uncomfortable.
“Do you mind if I bring Ida back to the ranch with me?” he asked lazily.
Cort stared at his cousin as if he’d gone insane. “Everybody does it,” he began hesitantly.
Bart said. He glared at Cort. “There are three motels in town. Be my guest.”
“The dancing was fun, anyway,” Ida said, almost purring. “Coming home with me?” she added to Cort. “You bet,” he drawled, making sure that his uptight cousin and that vicious woman beside him heard every word.
He’d spent the night with the happy divorcée, which tainted him in her eyes.
Right now, Cort thought Mina was just a country girl with a small ranch. He’d mentioned to Bart that she’d never be able to hold her own in high social circles. He wasn’t sure she’d even know which utensils to use in a fancy restaurant. Obviously, he’d added, she wasn’t the sort of woman he could consider settling down with.
“A week from Friday night, there’s a square dance in town at the civic center. You going?” he asked. Cort stuck his hands in his pockets. “I might take Ida.”
“Did McGuire get what you gave me?” Her mouth fell open. Her eyes were like saucers.
“THAT’S A NASTY INSINUATION,” she said shortly. He pursed his sensual, slightly swollen lips as he studied her. “It is, isn’t it? He’s rich and you’re not. And you’re dating him.”
“Women are a permissible pleasure,” he said lazily. “I have no plans to marry and settle down and start changing diapers,” he added. It was a lie, but he wasn’t about to encourage Little Miss Muffet, here. He had to marry a woman from his own class, not some rustic cowgirl who wouldn’t know a dessert fork from a butter knife. Why did that bother him? She wasn’t even his type. Ida was.
She turned, frowning. “Haven’t you ever been in love?” she asked, stunned. “Not really,” he said, searching her eyes. “I’ve had my share of lovers, I guess.” “It isn’t the same thing,” she returned.
“Not to worry,” he said softly. “I’m not in the market for a woman who reads romance novels.”
I grew up rich. All the people I associate with are rich. I’ve never been poor. We come from different worlds. It’s best to keep them separate.”
“Cooking and homemaking,” Cort muttered. “Who the hell does that anymore? I’ve never dated a woman who wanted to spend any time in a kitchen.”
“My dad’s pretty much the same way,” he said quietly. “He was running around on my mother when she was dying.” His face hardened. “He’s never really stayed with one woman for long.”
She wasn’t pretty, but there was a quality about her that drew him, like a moth to a flame. Ida was beautiful and fun and exciting. Mina was quiet and shy, but with hidden depths. He wanted to know what those depths were. She intrigued him.
HE HAD HER out of her clothing with an ease that should have set up red flags in her mind, except that he kept her at fever pitch the whole time. His mouth was all over her, exploring her, tempting her, teaching her, in a hot silence that went from pleasure to higher pleasure, each plateau leading only to another, better one.
But she wasn’t fighting him. She could feel him, inside her, warm and hard and tender.
“Oh...please...” she whispered, pushing gently at his chest. “I’m going to be sick...!” He withdrew at once and watched her vault off the bed and into the bathroom. He could hear her dinner coming back up.
He felt ashamed of himself. She’d been compromised by the alcohol and he’d taken advantage of it.
He studied her quietly. “You were a virgin.”
Great, he thought privately, now she’ll get pregnant and she’ll have it made until the kid graduates. All the money she’s never had...
“You gave me your innocence. I wasn’t worthy of such a gift,” he added quietly. “I was drunk,” she said.
You’re an experience I’ll never forget as long as I live.” “Until some new woman comes along,” she laughed.
THE NEXT FEW days were like magic. Mina was in love and falling deeper as she spent more time with Cort and learned more about him.
A gorgeous brunette he’d had a brief affair with latched on to him at the party and he became aware belatedly of the flash from a camera of some sort. But he disregarded it.
She was just what he needed; a wife he could leave alone when necessary without having to worry if she was running around on him.
CORT WAS AT yet another business party, talking a trade deal with some men from Japan. Apparently, their hostess was another fan of Willow Shane, because she had a copy of SPECTRE on a coffee table, just like another businessman’s wife he’d met days before.
Her eyes flamed. It was a photograph of her brand-new husband with his arm around a drop-dead gorgeous brunette at some cocktail party. He was nursing what looked like whiskey in a squat glass, and his smile was as brilliant as if he’d won the Nobel prize.
— ¡Podrían matarte!
Mina lo miró. Parecía que a Cort le importaba y se preocupaba de verdad. Estaba así de furioso porque había temido por ella y no sabía admitirlo sin parecer débil. Eso hizo que se le pasara el enfado de pronto.
Se acercó y le acarició el torso.
—Estoy cansada —le dijo en voz baja y apoyando la mejilla en él—. Y tengo mucho sueño.
Cort, sin poder contenerse, acarició su larga melena y hundió los dedos en ella. Esa inesperada fragilidad de Mina lo atravesó como un cuchillo traspasando mantequilla derretida.
Suspiró.
—Has tenido una noche muy dura y yo he sido un imbécil —le dijo con delicadeza—. Lo siento.