SWEET DREAMS...

Sweet dreams had been all that lovely Shelby Jacobs had ever given Justin Ballenger. He’d loved her, wanted to marry her....and his sweet dreams had blown away. A Ballenger wasn’t good enough for Shelby...she’d broken their engagement and flaunted her rich society lover in Justin’s face. He vowed never again to be vulnerable to his beautiful Texas rose.

Shelby had never stopped loving dark, intense Justin, and seeing him only deepened her feelings. She was sure he despised her, but she knew he needed to hear the truth about the past. She was risking everything, but the heart of her lonesome cowboy was more than worth it...

Justin

Diana Palmer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Title Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Copyright

Chapter One

It was a warm morning, and the weatherman had already promised temperatures into the eighties for the afternoon. But the weather didn’t seem to slow down the bidders, and the auctioneer standing on the elegant porch of the tall white mansion kept his monotone steady even though he had to periodically wipe streams of sweat from his heavily jowled face.

As he watched the estate auction, Justin Ballenger’s black eyes narrowed under the brim of his expensive creamy Stetson. He wasn’t buying. Not today. But he had a personal interest in this particular auction. The Jacobs’s home was being sold, lock, stock and barrel, and he should have felt a sense of triumph at seeing old Bass Jacobs’s legacy go down the drain. Oddly enough, he didn’t. He felt vaguely disturbed by the whole proceeding. It was like watching predators pick a helpless victim to the bone.

He kept searching the crowd for Shelby Jacobs, but she was nowhere in sight. Possibly she and her brother, Tyler, were in the house, helping to sort the furniture and other antique offerings.

A movement to his left caught his eye. Abby Ballenger, his sister-in-law of six weeks, stood beside him.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” she remarked, smiling up at him. She’d lived with him and Calhoun, her

almost-stepbrothers, since the tragic deaths of their father and her mother. Their parents were to have been married, so the brothers took Abby in and looked after her. And just weeks before, she and Calhoun had married.

“I never miss an auction,” he replied. He looked toward the auctioneer. “I haven’t seen the Jacobses.”

“Ty’s in Arizona.” Abby sighed, and she didn’t miss the sudden glare of Justin’s dark eyes. “He didn’t go without a fight, either, but there was some kind of emergency on that ranch he’s helping to manage.”

“Shelby’s alone?” The words were almost wrenched from him.

“Afraid so.” Abby glanced up at him and away, barely suppressing a smile. “She’s at the apartment she’s rented in town.” Abby smoothed a fold of her gray skirt. “It’s above the law office where she works…”

Justin’s hard, dark face went even tauter. The smoking cigarette in his hand was forgotten as he turned to Abby, his whipcord-lean body towering over her. “That isn’t an apartment, for God’s sake, it’s an old storeroom!”

“Barry Holman is letting her convert it,” Abby said, her guileless pale eyes the picture of innocence under her dark hair. “She doesn’t have much choice, Justin. With the house being sold, where else can she afford to live on what she makes? Everything had to go, you know. Tyler and Shelby thought they could at least hold onto the house and property, but it took every last dime to meet their father’s debts.”

Justin muttered something under his breath, glaring toward the big, elegant house that somehow embodied everything he’d hated about the Jacobs family for the past six years, since Shelby had broken their engagement and betrayed him.

“Aren’t you glad?” Abby baited him gently. “You hate her, after all. It should please you to see her brought to her knees in public.”

He didn’t say another word. He turned abruptly, his expression as uncompromising as stone, and strode to where his black Thunderbird was parked. Abby smiled secretively. She’d thought that he’d react, if she could make him see how badly this was going to hurt Shelby. All these long years he’d avoided any contact with the Jacobs family, any mention of them at home. But in recent months, the strain was beginning to tell on him. Abby knew almost certainly that he still felt something for the woman who’d jilted him, and she knew Shelby felt something for Justin, too. Abby, deliriously happy in her own marriage, wanted the rest of the world to be as happy as she was. Perhaps by nudging Justin in the right direction, she might make two miserable people happy.

Justin had only found out about the estate sale that morning, when Calhoun mentioned it at the office at their joint feedlot operation. It had been in the papers, but Justin had been out of town looking at cattle and he hadn’t seen the notice.

He wasn’t surprised that Shelby was staying away from the auction. She’d been born in that house. She’d lived in it all her life. Shelby’s grandfather, in fact, had founded the small Texas town of Jacobsville. They were old money, and the ragged little Ballenger boys from the run-down cattle ranch down the road weren’t the kind of friends Mrs. Bass Jacobs had wanted for her children, Tyler and Shelby. But she’d died, and Mr. Jacobs had been friendly toward the Ballengers, especially when Justin and Calhoun had opened their feedlot. And when the old man found out that Shelby intended to marry Justin Ballenger, he’d told Justin he couldn’t be more pleased.

Justin tried never to think about the night Bass Jacobs and young Tom Wheelor had come to see him. Now it all came back. Bass Jacobs had been upset. He told Justin outright that Shelby was in love with Tom and not only in love, the couple had been sleeping together all through the farce of Shelby’s “engagement” to Justin. He was ashamed of her, Bass lamented. The engagement was Shelby’s way of bringing her reluctant suitor into line, and now that Justin had served his purpose, Shelby didn’t need him anymore. Sadly, he handed Justin Shelby’s engagement ring and Tom Wheelor had mumbled a red-faced apology. Bass had even cried. Perhaps his shame had prompted his next move, because he’d promised on the spot to give Justin the financial backing he needed to make the new feedlot a success. There was only one condition—that Shelby never know where the money came from. Then he’d left.

Never one to believe ill of anyone without hard evidence, Justin phoned Shelby while Bass was still starting his car. But she didn’t deny what Justin had been told. In fact, she confirmed all of it, even the part about having slept with Wheelor. She’d only wanted to make Tom jealous so he’d propose, she told Justin. She hoped he hadn’t been too upset with her, but then, she’d always had everything she wanted, and Justin wasn’t rich enough to cater to her tastes just yet. But Tom was…

Justin had believed her. And because she’d pushed him away the one time he’d tried to make love to her, her confession rang with the truth. He’d gone on a legendary bender afterward. And for the past six years, no other woman had ever gotten close enough to make a dent in his heart. He’d been impervious to all the offers, and there had been some. He wasn’t a handsome man. His dark face was too craggy, his features too irregular, his unsmiling countenance too forbidding. But he had wealth and power, and that drew women to him. He was too bitter, though, to accept that kind of attention. Shelby had hurt him as no one else in his life ever had, and for years all he’d lived for was the thought of vengeance.

But now that he saw her brought to her knees financially, it was unsatisfying. All he could think of was that she was going to be hurt and she had no family, no friends to comfort her.

The apartment above the law office where she worked was tiny, and it didn’t sit well with him that it was in such proximity to her bachelor boss. He knew Holman by reputation, and rumor had it that he liked pretty women. Shelby, with her long black hair, slender figure and green, sparkling eyes, would more than qualify. She was twenty-seven now, hardly a girl, but she didn’t look much older than she had when she and Justin became engaged. She had an innocence about her, still, that made Justin grind his teeth. It was false; she’d even admitted it.

He paused at the door to the apartment, his hand raised to knock. There was a muffled noise from inside. Not laughter. Tears?

His jaw tautened and he knocked roughly.

The noise ceased abruptly. There was a scraping sound, like a chair being moved, and soft footsteps that echoed the quick, hard beat of his heart.

The door opened. Shelby stood there, in clinging faded jeans and a blue checked shirt, her long dark hair disheveled and curling down her back, her green eyes red-rimmed and wet.

“Did you come to gloat, Justin?” she asked with quiet bitterness.

“It gives me no pleasure to see you humbled,” he replied, his chin lifted, his black eyes narrow. “Abby said you were alone.”

She sighed, dropping her eyes to his dusty, worn boots. “I’ve been alone for a long time. I’ve learned to live with it.” She shifted restlessly. “Are there a lot of people at the auction?”

“The yard’s full,” he said. He took off his hat and held it in one hand while the other raked his thick, straight black hair.

She looked up, her eyes lingering helplessly on the hard lines of his craggy face, on the chiseled mouth she’d kissed so hungrily six years ago. She’d been so desperately in love with him then. But he’d become something out of her slight experience the night they became engaged, and his ardor had frightened her. She’d fought away from him, and the memory of how it had been with him, just before the fear became tangible, was formidable. She’d wanted so much more than they’d shared, but she had more reason than most women to fear intimacy. But Justin didn’t know that and she’d been too shy to explain her actions.

She turned away with a groan of anguish. “If you can bear my company, I’ll fix you a glass of iced tea.”

He hesitated, but only for an instant. “I could use that,” he said quietly. “It’s hot as hell out there.”

He followed her inside, absently closing the door behind him. But he stopped dead when he saw what she was having to contend with. He stiffened and almost cursed out loud.

There were only two rooms in the makeshift apartment. They were bare except for a worn sofa and chair, a scratched coffee table and a small television set. Her clothes were apparently being kept in a closet, because there was no evidence of a dresser. The kitchen boasted a toaster oven and a hot plate and a tiny refrigerator. This, when she was used to servants and silk robes, silver services and Chippendale furniture.

“My God,” he breathed.

Her back stiffened, but she didn’t turn when she heard the pity in his deep voice. “I don’t need sympathy, thank you,” she said tightly. “It wasn’t my fault that we lost the place, it was my father’s. It was his to lose. I can make my own way in the world.”

“Not like this, damn it!” He slammed his hat down on the coffee table and took the pitcher of tea out of her hands, moving it aside. His lean, work-roughened hands held her wrists and he stared down at her with determination. “I won’t stand by and watch you try to survive in a rattrap like this. Barry Holman and his charity be damned!”

Shelby was shocked, not only by what he was saying, but by the way he looked. “It’s not a rattrap,” she faltered.

“Compared to what you were used to, it is,” he returned doggedly. His chest rose and fell on an angry sigh. “You can stay with me for the time being.”

She blushed beet-red. “In your house, alone with you?”

He lifted his chin. “In my house,” he agreed. “Not in my bed. You won’t have to pay me for a roof over your head. I do remember with vivid clarity that you don’t like my hands on you.”

She could have gone through the floor at the bitter mockery in the words. She couldn’t meet those black eyes or challenge the flat statement without embarrassing them both. Anyway, it was so long ago. It didn’t matter now.

She looked at his shirt instead, at the thick mat of black hair under the white silk. He’d let her touch him there, once. The night of their engagement, he’d unbuttoned it and given her hands free license to do what they liked. He’d kissed her as if he’d die to kiss her, but he’d frightened her half out of her mind when the kisses went a little too far.

Until that night, he’d never tried to touch her, or gone further than brief, light kisses. His holding back had first disturbed her and then made her curious. Surely Justin was as experienced as his brother, Calhoun. But perhaps he’d had hang-ups about the distance between their social standing. Justin had been barely middle class at the time, and Shelby’s family was wealthy. It hadn’t mattered to her, but she could see that it might have bothered Justin. And especially after she jilted him, because of her father’s treacherous insistence.

She’d gotten even with her father, though. He’d planned for her to marry Tom Wheelor, in a cold-blooded merger of property, and Justin had gotten in the way. But Shelby had refused Tom Wheelor’s advances and she’d never let him touch her. She’d told Bass Jacobs she wouldn’t marry his wealthy young friend. The old man hadn’t capitulated then, but just before his death, when he realized how desperately Shelby loved Justin, he’d felt bad about what he’d done. He hadn’t told her that his guilt had driven him to stake Justin’s feedlot, but he’d apologized.

She looked up then, searching Justin’s dark eyes quietly, remembering. It had been hard, going on without him. Her dreams of loving him and bearing his sons had died long ago, but it was still a pleasure beyond bearing just to look at him. And his hands on her wrists made her body glow, tingle with forbidden longings, like the warm threat of his powerful, cologne-scented body. If only her father hadn’t interfered. Inevitably, she’d have been able to explain her fears to Justin, to ask him to be gentle, to go slow. But it was too late now.

“I know you don’t want me anymore, Justin,” she said gently. “I even understand why. You don’t need to feel responsible for me. I’ll be all right. I can take care of myself.”

He breathed slowly, trying to keep himself under control. The feel of her silky skin was giving him some problems. Unwillingly, his thumbs began to caress her wrists.

“I know that,” he said. “But you don’t belong here.”

“I can’t afford a better apartment just yet,” she said. “But I’ll get a raise when I’ve been working for two months, and then maybe I can get the room that Abby had at Mrs. Simpson’s.”

“You can get it now,” he said tersely. “I’ll loan you the money.”

She lowered her eyes. “No. It wouldn’t look right.”

“Only you and I would know.”

She bit her lower lip. She couldn’t tell him that she hated the thought of being in this place, so near Barry Holman, who was a nice boss but a hopeless womanizer. She hesitated.

Before she could say yes or no, there was a knock on the door. Justin let her go reluctantly and watched her move toward the door.

Barry Holman stood there, in jeans and a sweatshirt, blond and blue-eyed and hopeful. “Hi, Shelby,” he said pleasantly. “I thought you might need some help moving…in.” His voice trailed away and he saw Justin standing behind her.

“Not really,” Justin said with a cold smile. “She’s on her way over to Mrs. Simpson’s to take on Abby’s old room. I’m helping her move, although I knew she appreciated the offer of this—” he looked around distastefully “—apartment.”

Barry Holman swallowed. He’d known Justin for a long time, and he was just about convinced that the rumors he’d heard were true. Justin might not want Shelby himself, but he was damned visible if anybody else made a pass at her.

“Well,” he said, still smiling, “I’d better get back downstairs then. I had some calls to make. Good to see you again, Justin. See you early Monday morning, Shelby.”

“Thanks anyway, Mr. Holman,” she said. “I don’t want to seem ungrateful, but Mrs. Simpson offers meals as well, and it’s peaceful there.” She smiled. “I’m not used to town living, and Mrs. Simpson has the room free right now…”

“No hard feelings, you go right ahead.” Barry grinned. “So long.”

Justin glared after him. “Lover boy,” he muttered. “Just what you need.”

She turned, her eyes soft on his face. “I’m twenty-seven,” she said. “I want to marry and have children eventually. Mr. Holman is very nice, and he doesn’t have any bad habits.”

“Except that he’ll sleep with anything that wears skirts,” he replied tersely. He didn’t like thinking about Shelby having another man’s children. His black eyes searched over her body. Yes, she was getting older, not that she looked it. In eight or ten years, children might be a risk for her. His expression hardened.

“He’s never said anything improper to me.” She faltered, confused by the way he was looking at her.

“Give him time.” He drew in a slow breath. “I said I’ll loan you enough to get the room at Mrs. Simpson’s. If you’re hell-bent on independence, you can pay me back at your convenience.”

She had to swallow her pride, and it hurt to let him help her when she knew how bitter he was about the past. But he was a caring man, and she was a stray person in the world. Justin’s heart was too big to allow him to turn his back on her, even after what he thought she’d done to him. Quick, hot tears sprang to her green eyes as she remembered what she’d been forced to say to him, the way she’d hurt him.

“I’m so sorry,” she said unexpectedly, biting her lip as she turned away.

The words, and the emotion behind them, surprised him. Surely she didn’t have any regrets this late. Or was she just putting on an act to get his sympathy? He couldn’t trust her.

She got herself back together and brushed at the loose hair at her neck as she poured the tea into two glasses filled with ice. “I’ll let you lend me the money, if you really don’t mind,” she said, handing him his glass without looking up. “I don’t like the idea of living alone.”

“Neither do I, Shelby, but it’s something you get used to after a while,” he said quietly. He sipped his tea, but he couldn’t pry his eyes away from her soft oval face. “What is it like, having to work for a living?”

She didn’t react to the mockery in the words. She smiled. “I like it,” she said surprisingly, and lifted her eyes to his. “I had things to do, you know, when we had money. I belonged to a lot of volunteer groups and charities. But law offices cater to unhappy people. When I can help them feel a little better, it makes me forget my own problems.”

His black brows drew together as he sipped the cool, sweet amber liquid. The glass was cold under his lean fingers.

She searched his black eyes. “You don’t believe me, do you, Justin?” she asked perceptively. “You saw me as a socialite, a reasonably attractive woman with money and a cultured background. But that was an illusion. You never really knew me.”

“I wanted you, though,” he replied, watching her. “But you never wanted me, honey. Not physically, at any rate.”

“You rushed me!” she burst out, coloring as she remembered that night.

“Rushed you! Up until that night, I hadn’t even kissed you intimately, for God’s sake!” His black eyes glittered at her as he remembered her rejection and his own sick certainty that she didn’t love him. “I’d kept you on a pedestal until then. And all the time, you were sleeping with that boy millionaire!”

She threw up her hands. “I never slept with Tom Wheelor!”

“You said you did,” he reminded her with a cold smile. “You swore it, in fact.”

She closed her eyes on a wave of bitter regret. “Yes, I said it,” she agreed wearily, and turned away. “I’d almost forgotten.”

“And all the postmortems accomplish nothing, do they?” he asked. He put down the glass and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it without removing his eyes from her stiff expression. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Let’s go. I’ll run over to Mrs. Simpson’s and you can see about the room.”

Shelby knew that he’d never give an inch. He hadn’t forgotten anything and he still despised her. She felt as if the world was sitting on her thin shoulders as she got her purse and followed him to the door. She didn’t look at him as they left.

Chapter Two

Justin tucked a wad of bills into Shelby’s purse when he stopped the Thunderbird on the side of the road near Mrs. Simpson’s house. She tried to protest, but he simply smoked his cigarette and ignored her.

“I told you earlier that the money was between you and me,” he said quietly, his dark eyes challenging as he cut the engine. He turned in the bucket seat, his long legs stretched out as he touched the power-window switch on the console panel. It was a rural road, and sparsely traveled. He had stopped under a spreading oak tree. He hooked his elbow on the open window to study Shelby narrowly. “I meant it. If you want to look on it as a loan, that’s up to you.”

She chewed on her lower lip. “I’ll be able to pay you back one day,” she said doggedly, even though she knew better. With what she made, it was going to be a struggle to eat and pay the rent. New clothes might become impossible.

“I’m not worried about it.”

“Yes, but I am.” She looked up, all her misgivings in her green eyes. “Oh, Justin, what am I going to do?” she moaned. “I’m alone for the first time in my life. Ty’s in Arizona, I have no family…” She got a grip on herself, averting her eyes. “It’s just panic,” she said tightly. “Just fear. I’ll get used to it. I’m sorry I said that.”

He didn’t speak. He’d never seen Shelby helpless. She’d always been poised and calm. It was new and faintly disturbing to see her frightened.

“If things get too rough,” he replied quietly, “you can move in with me.”

She laughed hollowly. “That would do our reputations a world of good.”

He blew out a cloud of smoke. “If gossip bothers you all that much, we can get married.” He said it carelessly, but his eyes were sharp on her face.

She knew she wasn’t breathing. She looked at him as the old wounds opened with a vengeance. “Why?” she asked.

He didn’t want to answer her. He didn’t want to admit, even to himself, that he was still vulnerable. He shrugged. “You need a place to stay. I’m tired of living alone. Since Abby and Calhoun moved out, the damned house is like a mausoleum.”

“You feel sorry for me,” she accused.

He took another draw from the cigarette. “Maybe I do. So what? Right now you don’t have many options. Either you borrow from me to afford Mrs. Simpson’s boarding house, or you marry me.” He studied the tip of the cigarette. “Of course, you can always go back to that converted storeroom over Barry Holman’s office and show him that you’re available—”

“You stop that,” she muttered. She shifted restlessly. “Mr. Holman isn’t that kind of man. And you have no reason to feel possessive about me.”

“Haven’t I?” His black eyes searched hers. “But I am, just the same. And I remember your saying the same thing about me. We were engaged once, Shelby. That kind of involvement doesn’t go away.”

“Some involvement,” she said with a tired sigh. “I never could decide why you wanted to marry me.”

“You were a feather in my cap,” he said coldly, lying through his teeth. “A rich sophisticate. I was just a country boy with stars in my eyes, and you took me for a hell of a ride, lady. Now it’s my turn. I’ve got money and you haven’t.” His dark eyes narrowed. “And don’t think I want to marry you out of some lingering passion.”

He hadn’t forgotten. It was in his eyes, his whole look. He’d marry her and make her hunger for a love he’d never felt, couldn’t feel for her. He held her in contempt because he thought she’d slept with Tom Wheelor, and that was the biggest joke of all. She was still a virgin, and wouldn’t it throw a stick into his spokes to find that out the hard way?

“No.” She sighed, belatedly answering his question. “I’m not stupid enough to think you still want me, after what I did to your pride.” She lifted her eyes to study the proud, arrogant set of his dark head, his eyes shadowed by the Stetson he always wore. “I used to think you cared for me a little, even though you never said you did.”

That was the truth. She’d never really been sure why he wanted to marry her. Except for that one night, he hadn’t been wild to try to get her into bed, and he’d never seemed emotionally involved, either. But she’d been so in love with him that she had not realized how relatively uninvolved he’d seemed until after their engagement had been broken.

He ignored her remarks. “If you want security, I can give it to you,” he said quietly. “I’ve got money now, although I’ll never be in the same class as your father was. He had millions.”

She closed her eyes on a wave of shame. She had her father and her own naïveté to thank for Justin’s bitterness. But Justin wanted revenge and she’d be a fool to deliver herself on a silver platter to him. “No, Justin. I can’t marry you,” she said after a minute. Her hand reached for the door handle. “It was a crazy idea!” She averted her face so that all he could see of it was her profile.

He put his hand over hers briefly, holding it, and then withdrew his fingers almost as quickly. His expression hardened. “It’s a big house,” he said. “With Calhoun and Abby living down the road, there’s only Lopez and Maria living with me. You wouldn’t need to work if you didn’t want to, and you’d have security.”

He was offering her heaven, except that it was impersonal on his part. More than anything else, he felt sorry for her. But under the pity was a darker need; she could feel it. Something in him wanted revenge for her rejection six years ago. His pride wanted restitution. Well, didn’t she owe him that, she wondered bitterly, after what her father had cost him? And she’d be near him. She’d have meals with him. She could sit with him in the evenings while he watched television. She could sleep under the same roof. Her hungry heart wanted that, so badly. Too badly.

“I don’t guess you’d…I don’t suppose you’d ever want a…” She couldn’t even say it. A child, she was thinking, although God only knew how she’d manage to deal with what had to happen to produce one.

“I won’t want a divorce,” he said, misunderstanding her thoughts. His eyes narrowed. “I’m not exactly Mr. America, in case you haven’t noticed. And I don’t want a woman I have to buy, unless it’s on my terms.”

That sounded suspiciously like a dig at her, because she’d refused him for what he thought was a lack of money. Her eyes lifted to his. “Do you still hate me, Justin?” she asked; she needed to know.

He stared at her without speaking for a long moment, quietly smoking his cigarette. “I’m not sure what I feel.”

That reply was honest enough, even if it wasn’t a declaration of undying love. There were so many wounds between them, so much bitterness. It was probably an insane thing to do, but she couldn’t resist the temptation.

She stared at his cigarette instead of at him. “I’ll marry you, then, if you mean it.”

He didn’t move, but something inside him went wild at the words. She couldn’t know how many nights he’d spent aching for just the sight of her, how desperately he wanted her near him. But he could never trust her again, and that was the hell of it. She was just a stray person, he told himself. Just someone who needed help. He had to think of her that way, and not want the moon. She might even play up to him out of gratitude, so he’d have to be on his guard every minute. But, oh, God, he wanted her so!

“Then we don’t need to see Mrs. Simpson until we’ve had time to make plans.” He started the car, pulled out onto the road and turned the Thunderbird toward the feedlot and his house. His hands had a perceptible tremor. He gripped the steering wheel hard to keep Shelby from seeing how her answer affected him.

If Maria and Lopez were shocked to see Shelby with Justin, they didn’t say anything. Lopez vanished into the kitchen while Maria fussed over Shelby, bringing coffee and pastries into the living room where Justin sprawled in his armchair and Shelby perched nervously on the edge of the sofa.

“Thank you, Maria,” Shelby said with a warm smile.

The Mexican woman smiled back. “It is my pleasure, señorita. I will be in the kitchen if you need me, señor,” she added to Justin before she went out, discreetly closing the door behind her.

Shelby noticed that Justin didn’t comment on Maria’s obvious conclusions. Perhaps Maria thought he might want to wrestle her down onto the sofa, but Shelby knew better. Justin had done that once, and only once. And she’d been so frightened that she’d reacted stupidly. She’d never forgiven herself for that. Justin had probably thought she found his ardor distasteful, and that was the last thing it had been.

She sighed, lowering her eyes to his black boots. They weren’t working boots; they were the ones he wore when he dressed up. He had such big feet and hands. She smiled, remembering how it had been when they’d first started dating. They’d been like children, fascinated with each other’s company, both of them a little shy and reserved. It had never gone beyond kisses except the night they got engaged.

“I said, do you want some coffee?” Justin repeated pointedly, holding the silver coffeepot over a cup he’d just filled.

“Oh. Yes, thank you.” She took it black, and apparently he remembered her preference, because he didn’t offer her any cream or sugar. He poured his own cup full, put a dash of cream in it and sat back with the china cup and saucer balanced on his crossed knee.

Shelby glanced at him and wondered how she could contemplate living under the same roof with him. He was so unapproachable. Obviously he wanted revenge. She’d be a fool to give him that much rope to hang her with.

On the other hand, if she was living with him, she had a better chance than ever of changing his mind about her. All she really had to do to prove her innocence was to get him into bed. But that was the whole problem. She was scared to death of intimacy.

“Why the blush?” he asked, watching her.

She cleared her throat. “It’s warm in here,” she said.

“Is it?” He laughed mirthlessly and sipped his coffee. “In case you wondered, you’ll have your own room. I won’t expect any repayment for giving you a home.”

The blush went scarlet. She had to fight not to fling her cup at him. “You’re making me sound like a charity case.”

“I’ll bet that rankles,” he agreed. “But Tyler can’t help you and hold down a job at the same time. And you’ll never make it on what Holman pays you, with all due respect to him. Secretaries in small towns don’t make much.”

“I’m not mercenary,” she said defensively.

“Sure,” he replied. He sipped his coffee without another word.

“Listen, Justin, it was all my father’s idea, that fake engagement to Tom Wheelor—”

“Your father would never have done that to me,” he interrupted coldly, and his eyes went black, threatening as he leaned forward. “Don’t try to use him for a scapegoat just because he’s dead. He was one of the best friends I had.”

That’s what you think, she mused bitterly. Obviously it wasn’t going to do any good to talk to him. Just because her father had put on a show of liking him was no reason to put the man on a pedestal. God only knew why Justin had such respect for a man who’d caused him years of bitter humiliation.

“You’ll never trust me again, will you?” she asked softly.

He studied her lovely face, her pale green eyes staring at him, her gaze burning into his soul. “No,” he replied with the honesty that was as much a part of him as his craggy face and thick black hair. “There’s too much water under the bridge. But if you think I’m nursing a broken heart, don’t. I found you out just a little too soon. My pride suffered, but you never touched my heart.”

“I don’t imagine any woman ever got close enough to do that,” she said, her voice soft. She traced the rim of the china cup. “Abby told me once that you haven’t dated anyone for a long time.”

“I’m thirty-seven years old,” he reminded her. “I sowed my wild oats years ago, even before I started going with you.” He finished his coffee and put the cup down. His black eyes met hers in a direct gaze. “And we both know that you’ve sown yours, and who with.”

“You don’t know me at all, Justin,” she said. “You never did. You said I was a status symbol to you, and looking back, I guess I was, at that.” She laughed bitterly. “You used to take me around to your friends to show me off, and I felt like one of those purebred horses Ty used to take to the steeplechase.”

He stared at her over his smoking cigarette. “I took you around because you were pretty and sweet, and I liked being with you,” he said heavily. “That was a lot of garbage about wanting you for a status symbol.”

She leaned back wearily. “Thank you for telling me,” she said. “But I guess it doesn’t matter now, does it?” She finished her coffee and put the cup down. “Are we going to have a church wedding?” she asked.

“Aren’t we a little old for that kind of ceremony?” he asked.

“I can see you’re still eating live rattlesnakes to keep your venom potent,” she said without flinching. “I want a church wedding.”

He dusted the long ash from his cigarette into an ashtray. “It would be quicker to go to a justice of the peace.”

“I’m not pregnant,” she reminded him, averting her self-conscious face. “There’s no great rush, is there?”

She was tying him up in knots. He glared at her. “All right, have your church wedding. You can stay at Mrs. Simpson’s until we’re married, just to keep everything discreet.” His dark eyes narrowed as he got up and crushed out his cigarette. “There’s just one thing. Don’t you come down that aisle in a white dress. If you dare, I’ll walk out the front door of the church and keep going.”

She lifted her chin. “Don’t you know what every woman in the congregation will think?”

The soft accusation in her green eyes made him feel guilty. He was still hurt by Shelby’s affair with Tom Wheelor. He’d wanted to sting her, but he hadn’t counted on the wounded look in her eyes.

“You can wear something cream-colored,” he muttered reluctantly.

Her lower lip trembled. “Take me to bed.” Her eyes dared him, even though she went scarlet and shuddered at her own boldness. “If you think I’m lying about being innocent, I can prove I’m telling the truth!”

His black eyes cut back to hers, unblinking. “You know as well as I do that it takes a doctor to establish virginity. Even an experienced man can’t tell.”

Her face colored. She could have told him that in her case, it would be more than normally evident, and that her doctor could so easily settle all his doubts. She started to, despite her embarrassment at discussing such an intimate subject, but before she could open her mouth, there was a quick knock at the door and Lopez came in with a message for Justin.

“I’ve got some cattle out in the road,” he told Shelby. “Come on. I’ll run you over to Mrs. Simpson’s first. You can call Abby and make plans for the wedding. She’ll be glad to help with the invitations and such.”

She didn’t even argue. She was too drained. They were going to be married, but he was going to see to it that she was publicly disgraced, like an adultress being paraded through the streets.

Her teeth ground together as they went out to the car. Well, she’d get around him somehow. She wasn’t going to wear anything except a white gown to walk down that aisle. And if he left her standing there, all right. Maybe he didn’t even mean what he’d said. She had to keep believing that, for the sake of her pride. He didn’t know, and she’d hurt him badly. But, oh, how different things had been six years ago.

Shelby had known the Ballengers all her life. Ty, her brother, and Calhoun, Justin’s brother, were friends. That meant that she naturally saw Justin from time to time. At first he’d been cold and very standoffish, but Shelby had thought of him as a challenge. She’d started teasing him gently, flirting shyly. And the change in him had been devastating.

They’d gone to a Halloween party at a mutual friend’s, and someone had handed Shelby a guitar. To Justin’s amazement, she’d played it easily, trying to slow down enough to adjust to the rather inept efforts of their host, who was learning to play lead guitar.

Without a word, Justin had perched himself on a chair beside her and held out his hand. Their host, with a grin that Shelby hadn’t understood at the time, gave the instrument to Justin. He nodded to Shelby, tapped out the meter with his booted foot and launched into a rendition of San Antonio Rose that brought the house down.

After the first shock wore off, Shelby’s long, graceful fingers caught up the rhythm and seconded him to perfection. He looked into her eyes as they wound to a finish, and he smiled. And at that moment, Shelby gave him her heart.

It wasn’t a sudden thing, really. She’d known for years how kind he was. He’d just taken Abby in and given her a home when the girl’s mother and Mr. Ballenger had died in a tragic car wreck. Justin was always around when someone needed a helping hand, and there wasn’t a more generous or harder working man in Jacobsville. He had a temper, too, but he controlled it most of the time, and his men respected him because he didn’t ask them to do anything he wasn’t willing to do himself. He was the boss, along with Calhoun, but Justin was always the first to arrive and the last to leave when there was a job to be done. He had many admirable qualities, and Shelby was young and impressionable, and just at the right age to fall hopelessly in love with an older man.

After that night, she seemed to see Justin everywhere. At the restaurant where she had lunch with a friend on Tuesdays and Thursdays, at social events, at charity bazaars, where she went riding on trails that wound near the Ballenger property. It didn’t occur to her to wonder why such a reclusive, hard-working man suddenly had so much free time and spent it at places she was known to frequent. She was in love, and every second spent with Justin fed her hungry heart.

She hadn’t thought he was interested in her at first. They had a lot in common, despite their very different backgrounds, and he seemed to enjoy talking to her.

Then, very suddenly, everything changed. They were walking down the trail, near where they’d tied their horses, and Justin had suddenly stopped walking to lean against a tree. He didn’t say a word, but the expression in his eyes spoke volumes. He had a smoking cigarette in one hand, but he held out the other one to Shelby.

Shelby didn’t know what to expect when she took it. Her heart was hammering and she looked at his mouth and wanted it obsessively. Perhaps he knew that, but he didn’t take advantage of it.

He pulled her closer. Only their hands were touching. Then, his black eyes searching her soft green ones, he bent slowly, giving her all the time in the world to pull back, to hesitate, to show him that she didn’t want him.

But she did. She stood very still as his hard lips brushed hers, her eyes open, watching him. He lifted his head and searched her eyes.

He dropped the cigarette and ground it out under his boot while her heart went crazy. His arms slid around her, bringing her against him but not intimately. He bent again and kissed her with tenderness and respect, with soft wonder. She kissed him back the same way, her arms around his shoulders, her mind sinking into layers of pleasure.

He drew back a minute later and let her go without a word. He took her hand in his and they started walking.

“Do you want a big wedding, or will a civil service do?” he asked as easily as if they were discussing the weather.

And just that quickly they were engaged. That night they went back to her house and told her father. Although his first expression was explosive, they didn’t see it. He turned away long enough to compose himself, and then he made happy conversation and welcomed Justin into the family. Justin took Shelby home to share the news with Calhoun and Abby, but Abby was spending the night with a girlfriend and Calhoun had flown to Oklahoma to see a man on business.

They’d had the house to themselves. Shelby remembered so vividly how they’d laughed and toasted their future happiness. Then he’d drawn her to him and kissed her in a very different way, and she’d blushed at the intimacy of his tongue probing delicately inside her lips.

“We’re going to be married,” he’d whispered with open delight at her innocence. “I won’t hurt you.”

“I know.” She buried her face in his white silk shirt. “But it’s so new, being like this with you.”

“It’s new for me, too,” he breathed. His chest rose and fell heavily. He moved her hands a little to the side of the buttons on his shirt and pressed them hard against him while he flipped buttons out of buttonholes and then guided her fingers to the thick mat of hair that covered his muscular, suntanned chest.

“Now,” he breathed. “Touch me, Shelby.”

She was shocked at this new intimacy, but when he bent and took her mouth under his, she forgot the shock and relaxed against him. Her fingers curled, liking the feel of him, the smell of him that lingered like spice in her nostrils.

“Harder,” he whispered roughly. He pressed her hands closer and when she looked up, there was an expression in his eyes that she’d never seen in the weeks they’d been going together. Something wild and out of control was visible there. She trembled a little at that glimpse of desire she hadn’t expected to find in such a controlled man.

Then his hand went under her nape, lifting her up to his mouth, and he took her lips in brief, biting kisses that had an unexpected, unbelievable effect on her. She moaned helplessly, frightened at the new sensations.

But to Justin, a moan had a totally different meaning. He thought she was as immersed in pleasure as he was, and his mouth grew suddenly invasive, insistent. His hands dropped to Shelby’s slender hips and suddenly lifted her against him into an embrace that shocked her senseless.

She knew very little about men and intimacy, but the changed contours of Justin’s hard body told her graphically what he was feeling. He groaned into her mouth as he moved against her in blatant arousal.

She struggled, but he was strong and half out of his mind with unbridled passion. He didn’t realize that she was trying to get away until she dragged her mouth away from his and pushed at him, begging him to stop.

He lifted his head, breathing roughly, his eyes black with frustration.

“Shelby…” he ground out in agony.

“Let me go!” she moaned. “Please…Justin, don’t!”

“I’ll stop before we go all the way,” he whispered against her mouth, and bent to kiss her again. Her protests muffled under his warm, drugging mouth, he lifted her off the floor and carried her to the sofa, putting her down gently, full-length, on its soft cushions.

He shuddered with unbearable need, his mouth rough as it pressed against hers. His body slid over her, pushing her into the cushions, heavy and hard and intimate. She felt his sudden loss of control with real fear. She knew what could happen, and that they were engaged. He might not try very hard to stop.

“Justin!”

“I’m not going to take your chastity, Shelby,” he breathed into her mouth. His brows drew together in agonized pleasure as his hands slid over her hips. “Oh, God, honey, don’t hold back with me. Let me love you. Kiss me back…”

The words died against her soft mouth. He kissed her with growing hunger, his loss of control evident in the urgent movement of his hips against hers, his hands suddenly searching as they moved over her soft breasts. Then his knee moved between her legs and she panicked.

She began to fight him, afraid of the unfamiliar intimacy that was beyond her experience. She pushed at him. All at once, he seemed to feel her resistance. He lifted his head, his eyes blazing with black hunger, and just stared at her for an instant, disoriented. Then when he saw the rejection, felt it in the stiffness of her body, he suddenly tore away from her and got to his feet. By the time she was able to breathe again, he was standing several feet away smoking a cigarette. Several tense minutes passed before he turned around again to pour brandy into two snifters. He gave her one and smiled mockingly at the way she avoided touching him.

He turned away from her to stare out the window while he sipped his brandy. His back was ramrod stiff. “We’ll sleep together when we’re married,” he said. “I hope you know that I don’t plan on separate rooms.”

“I know.” She sipped her own drink with shaking hands, wanting to explain, but his attitude was hardly welcoming. “Justin…I’m a virgin.”

“Don’t you think I knew that?” he asked tersely. He looked at her and his expression was a cold and totally unreadable mask, hiding emotions she couldn’t even guess at. “My God, we’re going to be married. Do I have to stop touching you altogether until the ring’s on your finger?”

She started to speak and lowered her eyes to her glass. She stiffened. “Perhaps…it might be wiser.”

“Considering my lack of control, I suppose you mean.” He said it icily, in a tone she’d never heard him use. He drank his brandy and after a while, the anger seemed to go out of him, to Shelby’s relief. He didn’t apologize, but he went to her and took her hand gently, smiling at her as if nothing at all had happened. They drank brandy, and he taught her a Mexican drinking song as the aftereffects of the evening and the potency of the aged brandy began to work on them. Maria and Lopez had chanced to come home then from a party and Justin had taken Shelby home. Maria had been raging at him in Spanish, and Shelby only found out later that the song he’d been teaching her wasn’t one she could ever sing in public.

She’d looked forward to the wedding with joy and also with apprehension. Justin’s passion had unsettled her and made her doubt her ability to match him. He was experienced and she wasn’t, and she was more afraid than ever of having him make love to her when he was totally out of control.

But there was no cause for alarm, because there was no more heated lovemaking. The most ardent move he made for days afterward was to kiss her cheek or hold hands with her, and all the while, those black eyes wandered over her with the strangest searching expression. She relaxed and began to enjoy his company again, losing her nervousness since he wasn’t making any more demands on her.

Then, suddenly, her father had put an end to it. Give up Justin, he’d demanded, or watch him lose everything he had. Justin would end up hating her, her father had said. He’d blame her for making him poor and their marriage wouldn’t stand a chance. His pride alone would kill it.

She’d been very young and unworldly, and her father was an old hand at getting what he wanted. He’d enlisted aid from Tom Wheelor, who was motivated by the thought of a beneficial merger. And she’d done what her father asked and lied to Justin, admitted to having an affair with Tom, to wanting wealth and position, things that Justin couldn’t give her.

So long ago, she thought. So much pain. She’d only been protecting Justin, trying to spare him the agony of losing everything he and his family had worked so long and so hard to achieve. But in the process, she’d sacrificed her own happiness. She had only herself to blame for Justin’s cold attitude. And not only did she blame herself for her betrayal, but she also hadn’t been honest with him about the reasons she’d been afraid to let him touch her.

Now he was going to marry her out of pity, not out of love. And, too, there was always his wish for revenge. She didn’t know how she was going to live with him, but only proximity was going to change his mind about her. And living with him would be so sweet. Even though she couldn’t be the kind of woman he needed, it was all of heaven to be near him. Maybe one day she’d find the courage to tell him the truth about herself, to make him understand.

All her doubts were back. But she’d given her word to go through with the wedding, and she couldn’t back down now. She was going to have to make the best of it, and hope that Justin’s thirst for revenge wasn’t prompting his decision to marry her.

Chapter Three

Abby was enlisted to help Shelby with the wedding preparations. Shelby had always liked the Ballenger brothers’ ward. Abby seemed to understand so well what was going on between Justin and his ex-fiancée.

“I don’t imagine Justin is making it easy for you,” Abby said while they addressed envelopes for the invitations that they’d just picked up from the printer.

Shelby brushed back a strand of dark hair, sighing gently. “He feels sorry for me,” she said with a faint smile. “And maybe he’s bent on revenge. But I’m afraid that’s all he’s got to give me.”

“He seemed to be coming around pretty well the night we all went to that square dance and Calhoun spent most of it dancing with you,” Abby recalled, tongue in cheek. It was easy to laugh about the past now, although she and Justin had been devastated at the time.

Shelby cleared her throat. “Justin had enough to say to me when we danced. Afterward, I guess he gave Calhoun the devil, if his expression was anything to go by. He was mad.”

“Mad!” Abby laughed. Her blue-gray eyes searched Shelby’s. “He went home and got drunk. Worse,” she confessed ruefully, “he got me drunk, too. When Calhoun got back from taking you home, we were sprawled on the sofa together trying to figure out a way to get up and lock him out of the house.”

Shelby’s eyes glistened with amused light. “Abby!”

“Oh, it gets even better,” she added. “Justin taught me this horribly obscene Spanish drinking song…”

Shelby blushed, remembering the first time she’d heard that song. “He taught it to me, too, the night we got engaged, and we were just starting to sing it when Maria came in and was furious.”

Abby finished one of the envelopes and put an invitation in it, sealing it absently while she studied Shelby’s reflective expression. “Justin never got over you, you know.”

Shelby’s eyes lifted. “He never got over what I did, you mean. He’s so unbending, Abby. And I can’t blame him for the way he feels. At the time, I lacerated his pride.”

“Why?”

The other woman only smiled. “I thought I was saving him, you see,” she said quietly. “My father didn’t want a cowboy for a son-in-law. He had a rich man all earmarked for me, a financially advantageous marriage. But I wouldn’t play along, and when he found out I’d agreed to marry Justin, he set out to destroy the relationship.” She turned a sealed envelope in her hands. “I never realized how ruthless my father could be until then. He threatened to ruin Justin if I didn’t go along.” She smoothed the envelope as she remembered the bitterness. “I didn’t believe him, so I called his bluff. The bank foreclosed on the feedlot and the Ballenger boys almost lost everything.”

“It was a long time ago,” Abby said, touching her hand gently. “The feedlot is prosperous now. In fact, it was then. Wasn’t it?”

“My father promised that if I went along with his proposition, he’d pull a few strings and talk the bank out of putting the place on public auction. Justin told me about the bankruptcy proceedings,” she added. “He was devastated. He even talked about calling off the engagement, so I figured I was going to lose him anyway and it might as well be to his advantage. At the time,” she added, remembering how distant Justin had been, how standoffish, “I remember thinking that he’d changed his mind about marrying me. I was pretty reserved.” She didn’t enlarge on that, but she remembered clearly the way Justin had reacted when she’d struggled away from him on the sofa. But surely that hadn’t hurt his pride. He must have been pretty experienced.

Abby leaned forward. “What did your father do?”

“He produced Tom Wheelor, my new fiancé, and took him to meet Justin. He told Justin,” she continued dully, “that I’d only been dating him to make Tom propose, because Tom was rich and Justin wasn’t. He made out that it was all my fault, that I was the culprit. Justin believed him. He believed that I’d deliberately led him on, just to get Tom jealous enough to marry me. And then Dad told Justin that Tom and I were lovers, and Tom confirmed it.”

Abby lifted her eyes. “You weren’t,” she said with certainty.

Shelby smiled. “Bless you for seeing the truth. Of course we weren’t. But in order to save Justin’s fledgling business, I had to go along with my father’s lie. So when Justin called me and asked me for the truth, I told him what I’d been coached to say.” She lowered her gaze to the carpet. “I told him that I wanted money, that I’d never wanted him, that it was all a game I’d been playing to amuse myself while I brought Tom in line.” Her eyes closed. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget the silence on the line, or the way he hung up, so quietly. A few weeks later, all the talk of bankruptcy died down, so I guess Dad convinced the bank that the Ballengers were a good risk. Tom Wheelor and I went around together for a while, to convince Justin, and then I went to Europe for six months and did my best to get myself killed on ski jumps all over Switzerland. Eventually I came back, but something in me died because of what my father did. He realized it at last, just before I lost him. He even apologized. But it was much too late.”

“If you could just make Justin listen…” Abby sighed.

“He won’t. He can’t forgive me, Abby. It was like a public execution. Everybody knew that I’d jilted him for a richer man. You know how he hates gossip. That destroyed his pride.”

Abby grimaced. “He must have realized that your father didn’t approve of him.”

“Oh, that was the beauty of it. My father welcomed Justin into the family with open arms and made a production about how proud he was going to be of his new son.” She laughed bitterly. “Even when he went to Justin with Tom, my father played his part to perfection. He was almost in tears at the callous way I’d treated poor Justin.”

“But why? Just for a merger? Didn’t he care about your happiness?”

“My father was an empire builder,” she said simply. “He let nothing get in the way of business, especially not the children. Ty never knew,” she added. “He’d have been furious if he’d had any inkling, but it was part of the bargain that I couldn’t tell Ty, either.”

“Haven’t you ever told Ty the truth?”

“It didn’t seem necessary,” Shelby replied. “Ty is a loner. It’s hard even for me to talk to him, to get close to him. I think that may be why he’s never married. He can’t open up to people. Dad was hard on him. Even harder than he was on me. He ridiculed Ty and browbeat him most of our childhood. He grew up tough because he had to be, to survive his home life.”

“I never knew. I like Ty,” Abby said with a smile. “He’s a very special man.”

Shelby smiled back. She didn’t tell Abby that Ty had been infatuated with her. And on top of losing his entire heritage and having to go to work for someone else, losing his chance with Abby was just the last straw. Ty had left for Arizona and his new job without a voiced regret. Perhaps the change would do him good.

Mrs. Simpson brought in a tray of cake and coffee and the three women sat and talked about the wedding until Abby had to leave. Shelby hadn’t told anyone what Justin had said about her dress. But the next day she went into Jacobsville to the small boutique that one of her childhood playmates now owned, and the smart linen suit she bought to be married in was white.

That didn’t worry her, because she knew she could prove to Justin that she was more than entitled to the symbolic white dress. Then she went for her premarital examination.

Dr. Sims had been her family doctor for half her life, and the tall, graying man was like family to all his patients. His quiet explanation after the examination, after the blood test was done by his lab, made her feel sick all over. And even though she protested, he was quietly firm about the necessity.

“It’s only a very minor bit of surgery,” he said. “You’ll hardly feel it. And frankly, Shelby, if it isn’t done, your wedding night is going to be a nightmare.” He explained it in detail, and when he finished, she realized that she didn’t have a choice. Justin might swear that he was never going to touch her in bed, but she knew it was unrealistic to assume that they could live together without going too far. And with the minor surgery, some pain could be avoided.

She finally agreed, but she insisted that he do only a partial job, so that there was no doubt she was a virgin. Doctor Sims muttered something about old-fashioned idiocy, but he did as she asked. He murmured something about the difficulty she might still encounter because of her stubbornness and that she might need to come back and see him. She hadn’t wanted to argue about it, but it was important for Justin to believe her. This was the only proof she had left. The thing was, she hadn’t counted on the prospect of such discomfort, and it began to wear on her mind. Had she done the right thing? She wanted Justin to know, without having to be told, that she was innocent. But that prospect of being hurt was just as frightening as it had been in the past—more so.

The wedding was the social event of the season. Shelby hadn’t expected so many people to congregate in the Jacobsville Methodist church to see her get married. Certainly there were more spectators than she’d included on her list.

Abby and Calhoun were sitting in the family pew, holding hands, the tall blond man and the dark-haired woman so much in love that they radiated it all around. Beside them was Shelby’s green-eyed, black-haired brother, Tyler, towering above everyone except Calhoun. There were neighbors and friends, and Misty Davies, Abby’s friend, on the other side of the church. Justin was nowhere in sight, and Shelby almost panicked as she remembered his threat to leave if she wore a white dress.

But when the wedding march struck up, the minister and Justin were waiting for her at the altar. She had to bite her lower lip hard and grip her bouquet of daisies to keep from shaking as she walked down the aisle.

She and Justin had decided not to have a best man or a matron of honor, or much ceremony except for the actual service. There were plenty of flowers around the altar, and a candelabra with three unlit white candles. The minister was in his robes, and Justin was in a formal black suit, very elegant as he waited for his bride to join him.

When she reached him, and took her place at his side, she looked up. Her green eyes caught his black ones and her expression invited him to do what he’d threatened, to walk out of the church.

It was a tense moment and for one horrible second, he looked as if he were thinking about it. But the moment passed. He lifted his cold eyes to the minister and he repeated what he was told to say without a trace of expression in his deep voice.

He placed a thin gold band on her hand. There had been no engagement ring, and he hadn’t mentioned buying one. He’d bought her ring himself, on a trip to town, and he hadn’t asked if she wanted him to wear one. Probably he didn’t want to.

They replied to the final questions and lit two candles, each holding a flame to the third candle, signifying the unity of two people into one. The minister pronounced them man and wife. He invited Justin to kiss his bride.

Justin turned to Shelby with an expression she couldn’t read. He looked down at her for a long moment before he bent his head and brushed a light, cool kiss across her lips. Then he took her arm and propelled her down the aisle and outside into the hall, where they were surrounded seconds later by well-wishers.

There was no time to talk. The reception was held in the fellowship hall of the church, and punch, cake and canapés were consumed while Shelby and Justin were each occupied with guests.

Someone had a camera and asked them to pose for a photograph. They hadn’t hired anyone to take pictures of the wedding, an oversight that Shelby was secretly disappointed at. She’d hoped for at least a photograph of them together, but perhaps this one would do.

She stood beside Justin and smiled, feeling his arm draw her to his side. Her eyes lifted to his, but it was hard to hold the smile as those black eyes cut into hers.

The instant the camera was gone, he glared at her. “I said any color except white.”

“Yes, Justin, I know you did,” she said calmly. “And think how you’d have felt if I’d insisted that you wear a blue dress instead of a black suit to be married in.”

He blinked, as if he wasn’t quite sure he’d heard right. “A white dress means—” he began indignantly.

“—a first wedding,” she finished for him. “This is mine.”

His eyes kindled. “You and I both know there’s an implied second reason for wearing white, and you aren’t entitled to it.” He noticed something darken her eyes and his own narrowed. “You told me you could prove it, though, didn’t you, Shelby?” He smiled coldly. “I just might let you do that before we’re through.”

She blushed and averted her eyes. For an instant, she felt cowardly, thinking about how difficult it was going to be if he wasn’t gentle, if he treated her like the scarlet woman he thought she was. It didn’t bear consideration, and she shivered. “I don’t have to prove anything to you.”

He laughed, the sound of it like ice shattering. “You can’t, can you? It was all bravado, to keep me guessing until we were married.”

Her eyes lifted to his. “Justin…”

“Never mind.” He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. “I told you, we won’t be sharing a bed. I don’t care about your chastity.”

She felt an aching sadness for what might have been between them and she looked at him, her eyes soft and quietly adoring on his craggy features. He was so beautiful. Not handsome, but beautifully made, for a man, from his lithe, powerful build to his black eyes and thick black hair and olive complexion. He looked exactly the way a man should, she decided.

He glanced down at her, caught in that warm appraisal. His cigarette hovered in midair while he searched her eyes, holding them for so long that her heart went wild in her chest. She let her eyes fall to his chiseled mouth, and she wanted it suddenly with barely contained passion. If only she could be the uninhibited woman she wanted to be, and not such a frightened innocent. Justin intimidated her. He had to be at least as worldly as Calhoun. She’d disappoint him, anyway, but if only she could tell him the truth and ask him to be gentle. She shivered at the thought of telling him something so intimate.

It was a blessing that Ty chose that moment to say his goodbyes, sparing Shelby the embarrassment of having Justin mock her for her weakness.

“I’ve got to catch a plane back to Arizona,” he told his sister as he bent his head to brush her cheek with his lips. “My temporary lady boss is scared stiff of men.”

Shelby’s eyes brightened. “She’s what?”

Ty looked frankly uncomfortable. “She’s nervous around men,” he said reluctantly. “Damn it, she hides behind me at dances, at meetings…it’s embarrassing.”

Shelby had to fight down laughter. Her very independent brother didn’t like clinging women, but this one seemed to be affecting him very strangely. His temporary boss was the niece of his permanent boss. She lived in Arizona, where she was trying to cope with an indebted dude ranch. Ty’s boss in Jacobsville had sent him out to help. He’d hated it at the beginning, and he still seemed to, but maybe the mysterious Arizona lady was getting to him.

“Maybe she feels safe with you?” Shelby asked.

He glowered at her. “Well, it’s got to stop. It’s like having poison ivy wrap itself around you.”

“Is she ugly?” Shelby persisted.

“Kind of plain and unsophisticated,” he murmured. “Not too bad, I guess, if you like tomboys. I don’t,” he added doggedly.

“Why don’t you quit?” Justin asked. “You can work for Calhoun and me, we’ve already offered you a job.”

“Yes, I know. I appreciated it, too, considering how strained things were between our families,” Ty said honestly. “But this job is kind of a challenge and that part I like.”

Justin smiled. “Come and stay when you get homesick.”

Ty shook his outstretched hand. “I might, one day. I like kids,” he added. “A few nieces and nephews wouldn’t bother me.”

Justin looked murderous and Shelby went scarlet. Ty frowned, and Justin thanked God that Calhoun and Abby joined them in time to ward off trouble. He didn’t want to think about kids. Shelby sure wouldn’t want his, not if the way she’d reacted to him the one time he’d been ardent with her was any indication. She was repulsed by him.

“Isn’t this a nice wedding?” Calhoun asked Ty, joining the small group with his arm around a laughing Abby. “Doesn’t it give you any ideas?”

Ty smiled at Abby. “It does that, all right. It makes me want to get an inoculation, quick,” he murmured drily.

“You’ll outgrow that attitude one day,” Calhoun assured him. “We all get chopped down at the ankles eventually,” he added, and ducked when Abby hit his chest. “Sorry, honey.” He chuckled, brushing a lazy kiss against her forehead. “You know I didn’t mean it.”

“Can we give you a lift to the airport, or did you rent a car?” Abby asked Ty.

“I rented a car, but thanks all the same. Why don’t you two walk me out to it?” He kissed Shelby again. “Be happy,” he said gently.

“I expect to,” she said, and smiled in Justin’s direction.

Ty nodded, but he didn’t look convinced. When he followed Abby and Calhoun out of the fellowship hall, he was preoccupied and frowning thoughtfully.

The reception seemed to go on forever, and Shelby was grateful when it was finally time to go home. Justin had sent Lopez to fetch Shelby’s things from Mrs. Simpson’s house early that morning. The guest room had been prepared for Shelby. Maria had questioned that, but only once, because Justin’s cold eyes had silenced her. Maria understood more than he realized, anyway. She, like everyone else on the property, knew that despite his bitterness, Justin still had a soft spot for Shelby. She was alone and impoverished, and it didn’t surprise anybody that Justin had married her. If he felt the need for a little vengeance in the process, that wasn’t unexpected, either.

“Thank God that’s over,” Justin said wearily when they were alone in the house. He’d tugged off his tie and jacket and unbuttoned the neck of his shirt and rolled up the sleeves. He looked ten years older than he was.

Shelby put her purse on the hall table and took off her high heels, smoothing her stockinged feet on the soft pile of the carpet. It felt good not to be two inches taller.

Justin glanced at her and smiled to himself, but he turned away before she could see it. “Do you want to go out for supper or have it here?”

“I don’t care.”

“I suppose it would look odd if we went to a restaurant on our wedding night, wouldn’t it?” he added, turning to give her a mocking smile.

She glared at him. “Go ahead,” she invited. “Spoil the rest of it, too. God forbid that I should enjoy my own wedding day.”

He frowned as she turned and started up the staircase. “What the hell are you talking about?”

She didn’t look at him. She held onto the railing and stared up at the landing. “You couldn’t have made your feelings plainer if you’d worn a sign with all your grievances painted on it in blood. I know you hate me, Justin. You married me out of pity, but part of you still wants to make me pay for what I did to you.”

He’d lit a cigarette and he was smoking it, propped against the doorjamb, his face quiet, his black eyes curious. “Dreams die hard, honey, didn’t you know?” he asked coldly.

She turned around, her green eyes steady on his. “You weren’t the only one who dreamed, Justin,” she said. “I cared about you!”

His jaw tautened. “Sure you did. That’s why you sold me out for that boy millionaire.”

She stroked the banister absently. “Odd that I didn’t marry him, isn’t it?” she asked casually. “Very odd, wouldn’t you say, when I wanted his money badly enough to jilt you.”

He lifted the cigarette to his mouth. “He threw you over, I guess, when he found out you wanted the money more than you wanted him.”

“I never wanted him, or his money,” she said honestly. “I had enough of my own.”

He smiled at her. “Did you?” Surely she didn’t expect him to believe she was unaware of how much financial trouble her father had been in.

“You won’t listen,” she muttered. “You never would. I tried to tell you why I broke off the engagement—”

“You told me, all right! You couldn’t stand for me to touch you, but I knew that already.” His eyes glittered dangerously. “You pushed me away the night we got engaged,” he added huskily. “You were shaking like a leaf and your eyes were as big as saucers. You couldn’t get away from me quick enough.”

Her lips parted on a slow breath. “And you thought it was revulsion, of course?” she asked miserably.

“What else could it have been?” he shot back, his eyes glaring. “I didn’t come down in the last rain shower.” He turned. “Change your clothes and we’ll have supper. I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry.”

She wished she could tell him the truth. She wanted to, but he was so remote and his detached attitude intimidated her. With a sigh, she turned and went up the staircase numbly, wondering how she was going to live with a man she couldn’t even talk to about intimacy.

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