Christmas On The Range
“It’s too expensive,” she protested.
“It isn’t. It was a gift and I hate it,” Merrie said honestly. “You know I never wear yellow. One of my roommates drew my name at Christmas and bought it for me. I didn’t have the heart to tell her it wasn’t my color, I hugged her and said thank you. Then I hung it in the closet.”
“I would have done the same,” Ivy had to admit. “Well, it’s beautiful.”
“It will look beautiful on you. Go on to bed. Sleep late. We won’t need to get up before noon if we don’t want to.”
“I never sleep past seven, even when I try,” Ivy said, smiling. “I always got up to make breakfast for Dad and Rachel, and then just for Dad after she left home.”
“Mrs. Rhodes will make you breakfast, whenever you want it,” Merrie said. “Sleep well.”
“You, too.”
Ivy went into the bedroom that adjoined Merrie’s. There was a bathroom between the guest room and Stuart’s room, but Ivy wasn’t worried about that. Stuart was out of town and she’d have the bathroom all to herself if she needed it. She probably would, if she couldn’t sleep off the headache. They made her violently ill.
She put on the nightgown and looked at herself in the full-length mirror. She was surprised at how she looked in it. Her breasts were small, but high and firm, and the gown emphasized their perfection. It flowed down her narrow waist to her full hips and long, elegant legs. She’d never worn anything so flattering.
With her long blond hair and dark green eyes and silky, soft complexion, she looked like a fairy. She wasn’t pretty, but she wasn’t plain, either. She was slender and medium height, with a nice mouth and big eyes. Only one of the big eyes was seeing right now, though, and she needed sleep.
There was a soft knock at the door. She opened it, and there was Mrs. Rhodes with the water. “Dear, you’re very pale,” the older woman said, concerned. “Are you all right?”
Ivy sighed. “It was the chocolate. I’ve got a headache. I don’t want Merrie to know. She worries. I’ll just go to sleep, and I’ll be fine.”
Mrs. Rhodes wasn’t convinced. She’d seen Ivy have these headaches, and she’d seen Stuart suffer through them. “Have you got something to take?”
“In my purse,” Ivy lied. “I’ve got aspirin.”
“Well, if you need something stronger, you come wake me up, okay?” she asked gently. “Stuart keeps medicine for them. I know where to look.”
She smiled. “Thanks, Mrs. Rhodes. I really mean it.”
“You just get some sleep. Call if you need me. I’m just across the hall from Merrie.”
“I will. Thanks again.”
* * *
She dropped down on the queen-size bed and pulled the silken covers up over her. The room was a palace compared to her one-room apartment. Even the bathroom was larger than the room she lived in. Merrie took such wealth and luxury for granted, but Ivy didn’t. It was fascinating to her.
The pain was vicious. The headaches always settled in one eye, and they felt as if a knife were being pushed right through the pupil. Some people called them “head-bangers” because sufferers had been known to knock their heads against walls in an effort to cope with the pain. Ivy groaned quietly and pushed her fist against the eye that had gone blind. The sight had returned to it, and the pain came with it.
Volumes had been written on the vicious attacks. Comparing them to mild tension headaches was like comparing a hurricane to a spring breeze. Some people lost days of work every year to them. Others didn’t realize what sort of headaches they were and never consulted a doctor about them. Still others wound up in emergency rooms pleading for something to ease the pain. Hardly anything sold over the counter would even faze them. It usually took a prescription medicine to make them bearable. Ivy had never found anything that would stop the pain, regardless of its strength. The best she could hope for was that the pain would ease enough that she could endure it until it finally stopped.
Around midnight, the pain spawned nausea and she was violently sick. By that time, the pain was a throbbing, stabbing wave of agony.
She dabbed her mouth and eyes with a wet cloth and laid back down, trying again to sleep. But even though the nausea eased a little, the pain increased.
She would have to go and find Mrs. Rhodes. On the way, she’d stop in the bathroom long enough to wet the cloth again.
She opened the door, half out of her mind with pain, and walked right into a tall, muscular man wearing nothing except a pair of black silk pajama bottoms. Blue eyes bit into her green ones as she looked up, a long way up, into them.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Stuart York demanded with a scowl.
3
Ivy hadn’t seen him in months. They didn’t travel in the same circles, and he was never at home when she was visiting Merrie. The sight of him so unexpectedly caused an odd breathlessness, an ache in the pit of her stomach.
He was watching her intently, and there was an odd glint in his pale blue eyes, as if she’d disappointed him. He rarely smiled. He certainly wasn’t doing it now. His wide, sexy mouth was thin with impatience. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. His chest was broad and muscular and thick with black, curling hair that narrowed on its way down his belly. The silk pajama bottoms clung lovingly to the hard muscles of his thighs. He was as sexy as any television hero. Even with his thick, straight black hair slightly tousled and his eyes red from lack of sleep, he was every woman’s dream.
“I was...looking for something,” she faltered.
“Me?” he drawled sarcastically, and he reached for her. “Rachel told me all about you before she left town. I didn’t believe her at first.” His eyes slid down her exquisite body in the revealing gown. “But it looks as though she was right about you all along.”
The feel of all that warm strength so close made her legs wobbly. There was the faint scent of soap and cologne that clung to his skin, and the way he was looking at her made it even worse. Over the years, she’d tried very hard not to notice Stuart. But close like this, her heart ran away with her. She felt sensations that made her uneasy, alien sensations that made her want things she didn’t understand. She couldn’t take her eyes off him, but he was misty in her vision. Her head was throbbing so madly that she couldn’t think. Which was unfortunate, because he misinterpreted her lack of protest.
A split second later, she was standing with her back against the cold wall with Stuart’s hard body pressing down against hers. His hands propped against the wall, pinning her, while his eyes took in the visible slope of her breasts in the wispy gown. He couldn’t seem to stop looking at her.
“I need...” she began weakly, trying to focus enough to ask for some aspirin, for anything that might make the headache ease.
“...me?” he taunted. His voice was deep and velvety soft, husky with emotion as his head bent. His pale eyes went to her parted lips. “Show me, honey.”
While she was working out that odd comment, his mouth was suddenly hard and insistent on her own. She stiffened with apprehension. She’d never been so close, so intimately close, to a man before. His mouth was demanding, twisting on hers as though he wanted more than he was getting.
She really should protest the way he was holding her, so that she felt every inch of muscle that pressed against her. But his mouth was erotic, masterful. She’d only been kissed a few times, mostly at parties, and never by a boy who knew much about intimacy. It had been her good fortune that she’d never felt violent attraction to a man who wouldn’t accept limits. But her luck had just run out, with Stuart. He knew what he was doing. His mouth eased and became coaxing, caressing. His teeth nipped tenderly at her lower lip, teasing it to move down so that he had access to the whole of her soft, warm mouth.
She shivered a little as passion grew inside her. She felt his bare chest under her hands, and she loved the warmth and strength of him so close. Her fingers burrowed through the thick hair that covered the hard muscle, making them tingle even as she felt the urgent response of his body to the soft caress. She let her lips part as he pressed harder against them and she moved, involuntarily, closer to the source of the sudden pleasure she was feeling.
It was like an invitation, and he took it. His hips ground into hers and she felt the sudden hardness of him against her with real fear. He groaned harshly. His body became even more insistent. He didn’t seem capable, at that moment, of stopping.
The throbbing delight she felt turned quickly to fear as his hands dropped to her hips and dragged them against the changing contours of his body with intent enough that even a virgin could feel his rising desire. Frightened by his headlong ardor, she pushed at his chest frantically, trying to drag her lips away from the hard, slow drugging pressure of his mouth.
He was reluctant to stop. He could feel his own body betraying his hunger for her. He couldn’t help it. She was exquisite to touch, and she tasted like sweet heaven. He couldn’t think past her body under him in the bed behind them. But finally the violence of her resistance got through to his foggy brain. He managed to lift his head just long enough to meet her eyes.
When he saw the fear, he began to doubt for the first time what Rachel had said about her little sister. If this was the permissive behavior that had been described to him, it was unlikely that she’d had many boyfriends. On the contrary, she looked as if she was scared to death of what came next.
“No,” she choked huskily, her eyes bright with feeling, pleading with his. “Please don’t.”
For just an instant, his hands tightened on her waist. But her gasp and stiffening posture told its own story. Promiscuous? This little icicle? Just on the strength of her response, he would have bet his life on her innocence.
As his head began to clear, anger began to smolder in his chest. He’d lost his self-control. He’d betrayed his hunger for her. He couldn’t pretend that he hadn’t felt desire while he was kissing her. She’d felt his momentary weakness. His own raging desire had betrayed him, with this innocent child-woman who was only eighteen years old. Eighteen!
Anger and shame and guilt overwhelmed him. He pushed her away from him roughly, his eyes blazing as he looked down at her body in the revealing nightgown. Despite everything, he still wanted her, desperately.
“What did you expect, when you go looking for a man, in the middle of the night, dressed like that!?” He emphasized her attire with one big hand.
Shivering, her arms crossed over her breasts. She swayed, putting a hand up to her eye. She’d forgotten the headache for a few seconds while he’d been kissing her, but it came back now with a fury. She leaned back against the wall for support. Stronger than shame, than anger, was pain, stabbing into her right eye like a heated poker.
Her face was white and contorted. It began to occur to him that she was unwell. “What’s the matter with you?” he asked belatedly.
“Migraine,” she whispered huskily. “I was looking for aspirin.”
He made a rough sound in his throat. “Aspirin, for a migraine,” he scoffed. He bent suddenly, swung her up into his arms and strode back into his bedroom with her. The feel of her softness in his arms was intoxicating. She was as light as a feather. He noticed that she wasn’t protesting the contact. In fact, her cheek was against his bare chest and he could hear her breathing change, despite the pain he knew she was feeling. “You’ll get something stronger than aspirin to stop the pain, but not before I’ve checked with your doctor. Sit.” He put her down on the bed and went to the dresser to pick up his cell phone.
“It’s Dr. Lou Coltrain,” she began.
He ignored her. He knew who her doctor was. “Lou? Sorry to bother you so late. Ivy Conley’s spending the weekend with Merrie, and she’s got a migraine. Can she take what you give me for it?”
There was a pause, during which he stared at Ivy, trying not to look at her the way he felt like looking. She was beautifully formed. But her age tortured him. She was too young for him. He was thirty, to her eighteen. He didn’t dare touch her again. In order to keep his distance, he was going to have to hurt her. He didn’t want to, but she was looking at him in a different way already. The kiss had been very much a shared pleasure until he’d turned up the heat and frightened her.
A minute later he shifted, listened, nodded. “Okay. Yes, I’ll send her in to the clinic tomorrow if she isn’t better by morning. Thanks.”
He hung up. “She said that you can have half the dose I take,” he said, pulling a prescription bottle from his top drawer and shaking out one pill. He poured water from a carafe into a crystal glass and handed her the pill and the glass. “Take it. If you’re not better in the morning, you’ll need to go to her clinic and be seen.”
“Could you stop glaring at me?” she asked through the pain.
“You aren’t the only one who’s got a pain,” he said bluntly. “Take it!”
She flushed, but she put the pill in her mouth and swallowed it down with two big sips of water.
He took the glass from her, helped her up from the bed and marched her back through the bathroom to her own room. He guided her down onto the bed.
“I didn’t know you’d be home,” she defended herself. “Merrie promised you wouldn’t. I didn’t expect to walk into the bathroom and run into you.”
“That goes double for me. I didn’t know you were on the place,” he added curtly. “My sister has a convenient memory.”
In other words, she hadn’t told him Ivy was here. Ivy wondered if her friend knew he was due back home. It would have been a dirty trick to play, and Merrie was bigger than that. So maybe she hadn’t known.
“Thank you for the pill,” she said tautly.
He let out a harsh breath. “You’re welcome. Go to bed.”
She slid the covers back and eased under them, wincing as the movement bumped the pain up another notch.
“And don’t read anything romantic into what just happened,” he added bluntly. “Most men are vulnerable at night, when temptation walks in the door scantily clad.”
“I didn’t know...!”
He held up a hand. “All right. I’ll take your word for it.” His eyes narrowed. “Your sister fed me a pack of lies about you. Why?”
“Why were you even talking to her about me?” she countered. “You always said you couldn’t stand her, even when you were in the same class in high school.”
“She phoned me when your father died.”
“Ah, yes,” she said, closing her eyes. “She didn’t want to take any chances that you might come down on my side of the fence during the probate of the will.” She laughed coldly. “I could have told her that would never happen.”
“She thought you might ask Merrie for help.”
She opened her eyes. The pain was throbbing. She could see her heartbeat in her own eyes. “She would have. Not me. I can stand on my own two feet.”
“Yes,” he said slowly, studying her pale face. “You’ve done remarkably well.”
That was high praise, coming from him. She looked up into his lean face and wondered how it would have felt if she hadn’t pulled back. Warm color surged into her cheeks.
“Stop that,” he muttered. “I won’t be an object of desire to some daydreaming teenager.”
His tone wasn’t hostile. It was more amused than angry. Her eyebrows arched. “Are you sure?” she asked, returning the banter. “Because I have to have somebody to cut my teeth on. Just think, I could fall into bad company and become a lost sheep, and it would all be your fault, because you wouldn’t let me obsess over you.”
At first he thought she was being sarcastic. Then he saw the twinkle in those pretty green eyes.
“You’re too young to be obsessing over a mature man. Go pick on a boy your own age.”
“That’s the problem,” she pointed out, pushing her hand against her throbbing eye. “Boys my own age are just boys.”
“All men started out that way.”
“I guess so.” She groaned. “Could you please hit me in the head with a hammer? Maybe it would take my mind off the pain.”
“It takes pills a long time to work, doesn’t it?” he asked. He moved to sit beside her on the coverlet. “Want a cold wet cloth?”
“I’d die before I’d ask you to go and get one.”
He laughed shortly. But he got up, went into the bathroom and was back a minute later with a damp washcloth. He pressed it over her eyes. “Does it help?”
She held it there and sighed. “Yes. Thank you.”
“I have to have heat,” he replied conversationally. “I can’t bear cold when my head’s throbbing.”
“I remember.”
“Where did you get the chocolate, Ivy?” he asked after a minute.
She grimaced. He really did know too much about her. “There was a cookie this afternoon. I didn’t realize it was chocolate until I’d eaten half of it. Merrie warned me.”
“I can eat ten chocolate bars and they don’t faze me.”
“That’s because chocolate isn’t one of your triggers. But Merrie says you won’t drink red wine.”
“Wine is no substitute for a good Scotch whiskey. I gave it up years ago.”
“Aged cheese probably has the same effect.”
He grimaced. “It does. I love Stilton and I can’t eat it.”
She smiled. “A weakness! I thought you were beyond them.”
“You’d be surprised,” he replied, and he was looking at her with an expression he was glad she couldn’t see.
The door opened suddenly and Merrie stopped, frozen, in the doorway. “Are you having a pajama party?” she asked the occupants of the room.
“Yes, but you’re not invited. It’s exclusive to migraine sufferers, and you don’t have migraines,” he added with a faint smile.
She closed the door and came in, to stand by the bed. “I was afraid of this,” she told Ivy. “I should have noticed there was chocolate on the tray.”
“She’s the one who should have noticed,” Stuart said harshly.
“Well, talk about intolerance,” Ivy muttered from under the washcloth. “I’ll bet nobody fusses at you for what you ate when you’ve got one of these. I’ll bet you’d throw them out the window if they did.”
“You’re welcome to try throwing me out the window,” he offered.
“Don’t be silly. I’d never be able to lift you.”
“Do you need some aspirin, Ivy?” Merrie asked, sending a glare at her brother.
“I’ve already given her something.”
Merrie was outraged. “We’re taught that you never give anything to another person without consulting their physician...!”
“I’m glad you know procedure, but so do I,” Stuart replied. “I phoned Lou before I gave it to her.” He glanced toward the clock on the bedside table. “It should be taking effect very soon.”
It was. Ivy could hardly keep her eyes open. “I’m very sleepy,” she murmured, amazed at the sudden easing of the pain that had been so horrific at first.
“Good. When you wake up, your head will feel normal again,” Stuart told her.
“Thanks, Stuart,” she said, the words slurring as the powerful medication did its job.
“You’re welcome,” he replied. “I know a thing or two about migraines.”
“And she taught you a thing or two about seeing the doctor for medicine that actually helped them,” Merrie couldn’t resist saying.
He didn’t reply. His eyes were on Ivy’s face as she went to sleep. He lifted the washcloth and took it away. Her eyes were closed. Her breathing regulated. He was glad that the cover was up to her chin, so that he didn’t have to see that perfect body again and lie awake all night remembering it.
He got up from the bed, gently so as not to awaken her, the washcloth still clutched in his hand.
“That was nice of you, to get her something to take,” Merrie said as they left Ivy’s room.
He shrugged. “I know how it feels.”
“How did you come out in Oklahoma?” she asked.
“Everything’s ready for the auction,” he replied. “I still can’t believe they let me down like that at the Jacobsville sales barn.”
“They don’t have a history of messing up the different lots of cattle they sell,” she said in their defense.
“One mistake that big can be expensive,” he reminded her. “In this economic climate, even we have to be careful. Losing the Japanese franchise hurt us.”
“It hurt the Harts and the Dunns worse,” she replied. “They’d invested a lot in organic beef to send over there. They were sitting in clover when the ban hit.”
“But they recovered quickly, and so did we, by opening up domestic markets for our organic beef. This organic route is very profitable, and it’s going to be even more profitable when people realize how much it contributes to good health.”
“Our signature brand sells out quickly enough in local markets,” she agreed.
“And even better in big city markets,” he replied. “How’s school?”
She grinned. “I’m passing everything. In two years, I’ll be working in a ward.”
“You could come home and go to morning coffees and do volunteer work,” he reminded her with a smile.
She shook her head, returning the smile. “I’m not cut out for an easy, cushy life. Neither are you. We come from hardworking stock.”
“We do.” He bent and brushed his mouth over her cheek. “Sleep tight.”
“Are you home for the weekend?”
He glanced at her. “Are you wearing body armor?”
“You and Ivy could get along for two days,” she pointed out.
“Only if you blindfold me and gag her.”
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
“It’s an in-joke,” he said. “I have to fly to Denver tomorrow to give a speech at the agriculture seminar on the subject of genetically engineered grain,” he added.
She grimaced. “Don’t come home with a bloody nose this time, will you?”
He shrugged. “I’m only playing devil’s advocate,” he told her. “We can’t make it too easy on people who want to combine animal cells and vegetable cells and call it progress.” His pale eyes began to glitter. “One day, down the road, we’ll pay for this noble meddling.”
She reached up and touched his face. “Okay, go slug it out with the progressives, if you must. I’ll treat Ivy to the new Imax movie about Mars.”
“Mars?”
“She loves Mars,” Merrie told him.
“I’d love to send her there,” he replied thoughtfully. “We could strap her to a rocket...”
“Stop that. She’s my best friend.”
He shook his head. “The things I do for you,” he protested. “Okay, I’ll settle for sending her to the moon.”
“She’s only just lost her father, her house and she’ll soon lose her inheritance as well,” she said solemnly. “I could strangle Rachel for what she’s done.”
He could have strangled Rachel himself, for the lies she’d fed him about Ivy. He should have known better. She’d never been forward with men, to his knowledge. He was certain now that she wasn’t. But he wondered why Rachel would make a point of downgrading her to him. Perhaps it was as Ivy said—her sister wanted him to stay out of the probate of her father’s will. Poor Ivy. She’d never get a penny if Rachel had her way.
“You look very somber,” Merrie observed.
“Ivy should have had the house, at least,” he said, betraying the line of his thoughts.
“She couldn’t have lived there, even if she’d inherited it,” she told him. “There’s no money for utilities or upkeep. She can barely keep herself in school and pay her rent.”
His eyes narrowed. “We could pay it for her.”
“I tried,” Merrie replied. “Ivy’s proud. She won’t accept what she thinks of as charity.”
“So she works nights and weekends to supplement that pitiful amount of money her aunt left her,” he grumbled. “At least one of those mechanics she keeps books for is married and loves to run around with young women.”
“He did ask Ivy out,” Merrie replied.
He looked even angrier. “And?”
“She accidentally dropped a hammer on his foot,” Merrie chuckled. “He limped for a week, but he never asked Ivy out again. The other men had a lot of fun at his expense.”