Diamond Spur

“Then it shouldn’t bother you if I have women.”

She bit her lower lip until her teeth almost broke the skin. The image of that was unbearable. “No,” she agreed. “It shouldn’t.”

He flicked the cigarette off the porch while the silence closed in around them. He tilted her chin up and searched her eyes in the dim light from the windows.

Her mouth, faintly pink and just a little tremulous, looked delicious. He wondered idly if anyone had even kissed her properly. God, he wanted to do that!

Kate watched, shocked, as his dark head suddenly bent toward her. She could feel his warm, smoky breath on her parted lips and her own breath came jerkily.

“Don’t pull away from me,” he whispered deeply as his head tilted, his fingers touching her cheek. His nose nuzzled against hers and his mouth brushed the corner of hers, then drew lightly over the full softness of her parted lips. “I won’t hurt you,” he breathed against her mouth just as his covered it.

The sensation was explosive. His mouth was hard and warm and faintly hungry. He teased her lips until she went weak in the knees and her heart began to slam at her rib cage. Her eyes, half open, a little frightened, searched his curiously when he drew back to look at her.

“You taste of coffee,” he said deeply. She’d never heard that pitch in his voice before, that sensual note. It was exciting and new.

“You...you taste of cigarette smoke,” she whispered back, trying to smile. But she didn’t know how to play sophisticated games, and she was out of her depth with him.

He seemed to know that. His lean hands came up to frame her face and he bent again. “Open your mouth this time,” he breathed as his lips nudged hers apart. “Deep kisses are an acquired taste, but I think I can make you want mine.”

She moaned at the way he said it, at the velvet of his deep voice, at the aching hunger his caressing lips aroused in her body. She let him push her lips apart with his, admitting the slow, tender penetration of his tongue. She felt his tongue touching hers, fencing with it, and her body began to tremble.

One of Jason’s hands went behind her head, to support it. The other traced her cheek, her soft throat while he deepened the kiss. His mouth was expert. Warm and hard and knowing, and she could hear his rough breathing mingled with hers in the silence of the porch. Instinctively she tried to move closer to him, wanting his strength to support her sudden weakness.

His mouth lifted a second later, pressing roughly against the side of her neck. He slid his arms around her and enveloped her against him, but when she pressed even closer and felt the sudden changed contours of his body, he gently eased his hips back to prevent the contact.

She wanted to ask him if it embarrassed him to have her know he was aroused, but she was too shy to put it into words. She’d heard girls at school talk about men getting this way. She knew what caused it, and her head swam to think that, at her age, she could have that effect on Jason.

He was having his own effect on her as well. She couldn’t seem to stop trembling, and his arms tightened, shifting her soft breasts against his hard chest. She could feel the muscle right through the soft material of her blouse. He had to know that she wasn’t wearing a bra by now, and that made her nervous. She tugged gently against his hard arms, but he wouldn’t let go.

“Don’t fight me,” he murmured at her ear as his head lifted. “I won’t take advantage of it.”

“Of...what?” she faltered, trying to save her pride.

“Of the fact that you’re bare under that blouse, Kate,” he said. He lifted his head and looked down at her with an odd kind of patient indulgence, but there was a glitter in his dark eyes that made her heart skip beats. “That I can feel how soft you are, lying on my chest.”

Her face went blood red. She dropped her eyes to the steady rise and fall of his chest. She felt inadequate. Years too young.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” he murmured. He scowled, gently tracing her mouth with a lean forefinger, feeling its instant shy response. “I told you I was in a strange mood. I should have sent you on home before this happened.”

“Are you sorry that it did?” she asked shyly, and her eyes were wide and soft and still hungry when they met his.

“Are you hell-bent on becoming famous?” he countered.

“I just want to see how far I can go,” she told him. “No, I don’t want to be famous. I just want to use my talent.”

“New York is a long way from Texas.”

“So you keep telling me. Jason, I won’t change.”

“You will,” he said quietly. He studied her young face quietly. “But I’m not going to have you seduced by some Ivy Leaguer with a line a mile long. I don’t want you treated like an appetizer.”

“You’re very possessive lately,” she said, but it flattered her that he cared, that he didn’t want anything to happen to her.

“Of course I’m possessive. I owe you my life a time or two.” He sighed roughly. “I don’t want a man to...hurt you,” he said finally, and his dark eyes were troubled. “Inevitably, if you move in those circles, you’re going to meet some experienced men, and you won’t know how to handle them. You could get drunk one time too many in the wrong company, or you could be flattered too much by a man’s attentions. And the first time, if a man isn’t damned gentle....” He stopped, frowning as he searched for the right words. “I don’t want you used.”

She smiled, because she knew what he was trying to say. It delighted her that he had trouble saying it when most men were permissive and worldly and blunt. He wasn’t a virgin, she was sure, but he wasn’t all that experienced, either. She dropped her eyes to his chest. “I promise I won’t jump into bed with the first man who asks me, Jason.” She stared at his chest. “Anyway, I don’t like it when men touch me. Except that I’ve always wondered what it would be like...if you did.”

He felt the ground go out from under him. Until the past two days he’d never thought of Kate as a woman, and now he couldn’t think of her any other way. Her mouth was sweet and responsive and he wanted it again. He wanted to put his hands under that silky blouse and touch her bare breasts, to see if they were really as soft as they felt lying against his chest. He wanted to drag her hips back against his and make her feel the strength of the arousal he hadn’t wanted her to know about.

“Don’t make jokes,” he said tersely.

Her face felt warm, but it wasn’t the time for subterfuge. “I’m not,” she said honestly. “If I ever...well, if I wanted anyone, I mean...” She was as bad as he was about this, she thought, almost laughing at her own inefficiency. “I can’t imagine being that intimate with someone I’ve only just met,” she murmured. “It would have to be someone I knew very well.”

“Like me?” he prompted quietly.

Her body tingled. She couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “Yes.”

“If I’d let you,” he said after a minute, trying to lessen some of the tension that was building between them and playing hell with his good intentions, not to mention his agonized body.

She glanced up to find a faint, rather forced amusement in those dark eyes. “Oh, so it’s that way, is it?” she took him up, delighted at the new familiarity they were sharing so unexpectedly. “I’d have to seduce you, I gather?”

“Damned straight,” he returned. “I’m not one of those fast city boys. You won’t get me into bed without a fight.”

She laughed, her eyes sparkling, her face radiant. “Well, I never.”

“I know,” he mused.

She hit his chest with a small, playful fist. “Tease.”

“Flirt.”

She stared up at him with pleasure and adoration written all over her. “If you’re going to play hard to get, I’ll just go home.”

“That might be wise,” he sighed. He dragged a cigarette from his pocket with fingers he had to force to be steady, and lit it. “You’re getting me all stirred up.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Well, you started it.”

“I guess I did.” He touched her cheek gently. “Are you sorry?”

She shook her head. “If we’re making confessions, I’ve wondered for a long time what it would feel like if you kissed me.”

His chest swelled. “I’ve wondered the same thing about you, just lately.”

She smiled with aching pleasure. “I thought you were mad at me when you came out here.”

“I think I was.” He drew from his cigarette, and said, “I just don’t want to lose you.”

“And I’ve already told you, I’m just going to a few fashion shows, that’s all. I’m not going to have my head turned by fancy living.”

“It’s easy to say, isn’t it?” he asked with faint cynicism. “I grew up poor, honey. I remember what it was like when we started making money here. But that’s something you’re going to have to find out for yourself, I guess.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” she said softly.

“It will. Kiss me good night and go home. Want me to follow you in the Bronco to make sure you get there all right?”

She was still staggering from his request. Her wide eyes welded to his, she couldn’t be bothered to worry about getting home.

“Kiss you good night?” she whispered.

“Don’t you want to?” he whispered back, bending. “This kind of thing can get addictive, especially when it feels this sweet. Come on. Open that soft little mouth and fit it to mine, Katy,” he murmured as his face came closer.

She obeyed him, trembling as she felt the moist warmth of his lips so close against her own. She parted her lips and nudged them up against his, and moaned when he returned the caress with biting hunger. The sound worked on his blood like fire. He looped an arm around her shoulders and brought her roughly against his chest while the pressure of his mouth pushed her head back onto his muscular arm. Time hung like the stars while they fed on each other, and it was a long time before Jason could manage to drag himself away.

Jason’s eyes were almost frightening with their hot glitter as they searched Kate’s. “You and your damned soft breasts are giving me hell,” he breathed shakily. “Next time, wear a bra, unless you want to watch me strip you to the waist out of sheer frustration.”

Her mouth opened on a gasp and he bent long enough to crush his own over it for an instant. Then he let her go and moved back a step. She tried to stop shaking.

“Jason!” she exclaimed.

“I’m not made of solid rock,” he reminded her. His eyes went to her blouson, where the sharp tips of her breasts were straining against the thin fabric. “God, that excites me,” he said roughly.

She blinked, because in some ways, her education was a little faulty. “What?”

He sighed wearily. “Kate...this.” He brushed the back of his hand softly over her breast, and she jerked back on an inverted breath. “Didn’t you know that a woman’s body shows arousal that way?” he asked her gently.

“I do now, thanks,” she fumbled, wrapping her arms around herself in a flurry of embarrassment.

“Stop that,” he scolded gently. “Remember who I am, Kate.”

“I’m trying,” she replied lightly, her eyes fascinated with him and this new and sudden intimacy. But she moved her arms. Odd, how her body tingled when he looked at her breasts. For one wild instant, she thought about what he’d threatened, about stripping her to the waist and looking at her there....

“Why the wild blush?” he asked, his voice deep and velvety. He kissed her closed eyelids. “If you want to experiment, I’ll let you do it with me. At least you’ll be safe that way.”

“Oh, Jason,” she moaned, “I feel so strange...!”

“And so threatened. And there’s no need.” He pressed his mouth to her forehead. “I’m going to take exquisite care of you. Now go home before things get out of hand. Lovemaking is one thing, but sex is something else again.” He lifted his head and searched her eyes. “I won’t let you sleep with me, Kate. Virginity is something you should save for marriage.”

“Nobody else does,” she replied.

“Bull,” he shot back. “That’s another myth. It’s the fashion to be sexually liberated these days, but it’s damned dangerous, too. And I don’t mean just because girls can get pregnant. It’s because there are so many things you can catch that can kill you, or at the very least make you untouchable. You understand me?”

“Is that why you don’t run around?” she asked, her eyes curious.

“It’s one of many reasons I don’t,” he admitted. His eyes drew slowly over her face. “Even a man has to be careful these days. I’d cut off my arm before I’d expose you to any kind of disease.”

“And that’s the only reason you don’t want me to sleep with other men?” she coaxed.

His face hardened. “I feel the same way about that as you seem to feel about thinking of me in bed with other women.”

Her eyes fell. “Oh.”

“Kate, I’m getting in over my head here, and I need a cold shower like hell. So will you please go home?”

She smiled at the way he said it, delighted at the way he was reacting to her, and at the new relationship they were heading for. “Okay.”

“Drive carefully.”

“I will.”

She peeked at him, but he seemed remote now, unapproachable. With a faint grin, she turned and started toward the steps.

“I’ll be in Montana looking at Beefmaster bulls for a few days next week,” he said unexpectedly. “And at the end of the month, I’ll be headed for Australia. I’ll bring you back something pretty from there.”

“You’re doing a lot of traveling,” she said quietly. “Will you be in Australia long?” she asked, sounding miserable because she was.

He wished he wasn’t going all of a sudden. He studied her face. “I know a man up in the Northern Territory who’s experimenting with some new Indian cattle, crossbreeding them with shorthorns. I’ve been invited to spend a month over there getting familiar with the operation. It’s something I’m interested in trying here, so I’ve accepted, and Gene’s going to run things while I’m away, despite the fact that I had to browbeat him into it. I can’t spare the time, but I need to see about expanding the operation.”

“A whole month away?” she murmured, trying not to let him see how disappointed she felt.

“Yes. But not for a few weeks yet.” He smiled. “Don’t borrow things to brood about. Live one day at a time.”

“That’s easy to say,” she sighed.

“You’ll get the hang of it.” He put a fresh cigarette in his mouth and lit it. “Watch your speed.”

She nodded. One last glance at his face was all she got before Jason turned and went back to the swing to sit down. When she pulled out of the driveway, he was still sitting there. By the time she got home, she wondered if she might have dreamed the whole interlude. But her mouth was swollen from his kisses and her breasts ached from the gentle crush of his chest. Kate walked in feeling on air, and only barely managed to camouflage her budding emotions from her mother’s eagle eye. She didn’t want to share her secret just yet. She didn’t want Mary to know what had happened. But life had suddenly taken on new meaning, and she felt alive as she never had before.

CHAPTER FIVE

THE FIRST TWO outfits that Kate designed had been cut, and sewn, and Dessie Cagle had them sitting on a mannequin the next day in the sample room when Kate got to work.

Dessie beamed at her, and the designer, Sandy, laughed at the expression on her face.

“There you go,” Sandy mused, one hand on her ample hip. Her salt-and-pepper hair was elegantly coiffed, and she wore a simple blue pantsuit. “What do you think? The first samples with the Kathryn of Texas label.”

“Almost,” Dessie added. “The labels were supposed to come by UPS, but they’re late.”

Kate sighed over the sky blue and cream combinations, a heavy silver-toned concho belt linking the bottom to its blouson top. “Imagine,” she shook her head, astonished. “That’s all mine.”

“Well, not quite,” Sandy said slowly. “Kate, there are a couple of changes in the darts, because of production time. I hope you don’t mind,” she added, and she showed Kate the minor alterations.

“Oh, that’s no problem,” Kate said, and meant it. “Mr. Rogers had said already that there might have to be a change here and there. We learned compromise in design school,” she grinned. “I don’t do these in concrete.”

“Thank God, she’s not going to be a prima donna,” Sandy gushed, dancing Dessie around the room. She glanced at Kate with a rueful smile. “Our last new designer lasted one week. She’d designed us a skirt with eight set-in pockets and sixteen belt loops. We had to alter the design, and we even tried to compromise because it would have cost more to make it than we could have sold it for. Our little designer raised the roof, threatened to sue us individually and collectively, and in her fury overturned a buggy of scraps on one of the quality control ladies.” She shook her head. “I don’t guess you heard about it out on the floor?”

Kate pursed her lips. “Actually, we all knew about it, and I decided then and there that if I ever sold a design I’d bite off my tongue before I’d argue about production changes. Am I still loved?”

Sandy hugged her warmly. “Of course you are! Now. How are you coming with that new slant bodice on your blouson...?”

Kate pulled out her sketchbook and laid it on the desk to show her boss. But while she was talking, her eyes kept darting to the outfit on the mannequin. Kathryn of Texas. Now she had a label. And she was going to make it one to be proud of.

Mary had lunch with her in the canteen, and spent most of the half hour groaning over the repairs they had to get through. Some of the cuts were farmed out to a division of the company in the Caribbean, where labor was less expensive. But when they came back in, some of them didn’t make it through quality control and had to be taken through the sewing line again.

“Those repairs are never going to stop,” Mary sighed as she finished her ham sandwich and washed it down with a swallow of canteen coffee in a Styrofoam cup. She rested her tired arms on the polished yellow finish of the long table they were sharing with a few other scattered sewing hands. “I think my body is growing to my machine.”

“God forbid,” Kate laughed. “There, there, I’ll get rich and support you.”

“Promises, promises.” Mary stretched, looking older than ever in the orange slacks and patterned matching top she’d made. Orange really wasn’t her mother’s color, but Kate hadn’t been able to talk her out of the fabric she’d made them from.

“You’d look good in white,” Kate told her mother.

“Sure. Covered with lint in camouflage and khaki shades and smeared with machine oil,” her mother agreed dryly. “Any other helpful comments you care to make?”

“Why don’t you make eyes at that new mechanic,” came the quick comment. “He’s about your age and dashing....”

“And the only thing he’s ever said to me was, ‘Hand me my screwdriver.’ No, thanks. He’s got a wart on his nose.”

“Maybe he was a frog and somebody kissed him,” Kate suggested.

Mary gave her a hard glare. “I have to work over today,” she said. “Do you want to wait for me or get a ride home?”

“I want to wait until the truck comes in from Dallas and see if it’s got my buttons and lace,” Kate told her. “They’re a day late already. I need to check them against the fabric and make sure they look the way I want them to.”

“You picky designers,” Mary chided as she got up. “You’ll be standing in a retail store, complaining about the way they stick on the price tags.”

“Oh, to design clothes so fancy that they wouldn’t have price tags,” Kate sighed.

Mary just grimaced and left her there. Kate sipped her coffee, her eyes going blankly out the window at the blue skies. She wondered if Jason was still out with the men, and decided that probably he was. Roundup seemed to go on forever. Tempers got worse as it went along and she didn’t imagine that she was going to see him for several days. That was vaguely worrying, because he’d be going to Montana next week, and it was already Thursday. Her mind went back to the way he’d kissed her. She smiled, going off into a daydream where she was a famous designer and Jason was her husband, and he was accompanying her to a grand show in New York during one of the market weeks. She’d glitter, and he’d be so proud of her. She’d be hailed on the street in her famous finery, and Jason would accompany her to parties....

She blinked. Jason wouldn’t be at any of those parties for the simple reason that he didn’t approve of her designing aspirations. He still thought a woman belonged in the bedroom or the kitchen, and he wasn’t likely to change overnight.

A part of her mind kept asking why she was mooning over a man who wouldn’t want her the way she wanted to be, and who would expect his wife to stay home, have babies, and help entertain his business guests. She couldn’t face those limits, so she ignored them. At the moment, all she could think about was the sweet savagery of his mouth and the unexpected pleasure of loving him. If the lovely dream only lasted for a few days, until she came to her senses, she was going to enjoy it while it did. He was right. It was better to live for the moment rather than worry about the future. Because for her and Jason there was no future.

She and Mary were getting ready to leave the house the next morning when Jason unexpectedly showed up at the back door with a basket of beans.

“Sheila sent them,” he told Mary, putting them on the counter in their wicker container. “She thought the two of you might like some fresh ones, and she tucked in a bag of frozen ham hocks to cook them with.”

“The darling,” Mary enthused. “Thank her for us. Would you like a biscuit and some coffee?”

“I’d like that, thanks.” He grinned as he glanced toward the doorway where Kate suddenly appeared, breathlessly plaiting her hair with a blue ribbon that complemented her denim skirt and blue dotted Swiss short-sleeved blouse.

“Oh!” Kate exclaimed, stopping short. Her hands froze in midair for a second and her face colored. He was in working gear, jeans and a chambray shirt carelessly unbuttoned at the throat, with a blue bandanna tied at his neck and that battered black Stetson on his head. His spurs jingled on boots too worn to be decent. But he looked very masculine and unbearably handsome to Kate’s adoring eyes. She smiled at him unexpectedly, and he held her eyes until she had to drag them away.

“I’ll get the coffee,” Mary murmured, turning away to get another cup with a knowing smile.

Kate finished tying her braid and sat down at the table where biscuits sat on one platter and bacon and sausage on another. They hadn’t bothered with eggs because neither of them cared for them.

“If you want an egg, I’ll cook you one,” Kate offered as Jason sat down beside her.

“No, thanks, honey, I’ve had breakfast once already, about five this morning.” His leg brushed hers and he smiled at her nervous reaction. “I like the ribbon.”

“Thank you.” She glanced into his dark eyes and shivers of sensation ran through her body. It was exciting to look at him, all of a sudden. She felt the magic like electricity as he searched her soft eyes.

“How’s roundup going?” Mary asked when she came back with the coffee and broke the spell.

“Oh, not so bad,” Jason told her. He took a biscuit and filled it with bacon that was crisp and browned just right. “We had one busted leg, two broken ribs, a crushed foot, and fifteen stitches in a leg. Other than that, I guess it’s going fine.”

Kate grimaced. “Well, at least it wasn’t your fifteen stiches,” she said. She creamed her coffee and offered him the faded little cream pitcher that once had boasted a patch of strawberries on one side. Now there was little more than a faded leaf and a few unrecognizable dots of red where it had been.

Jason’s lean, dark hand took it from hers and didn’t let go for several seconds. Kate could hardly breathe. His touch ignited her like fire. She looked at his somber face, feeling the hunger in him like a living thing because it was echoed in her own body.