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house, and almost went down on his knees with relief when he found it parked at the steps.
He had to force himself to behave normally when his hands were almost shaking from fear that
he might find her in a ditch somewhere. He walked into the house, tossing his hat onto the hat rack, and
went into the dining room, where Shelby was sitting in a chair halfway down the long cherry-wood
table, talking to Maria about some new recipe.
She looked toward the doorway, but when she saw him, all the laughter and animation went out
of her like a light that was suddenly turned off. She was wearing a red and white dress and her hair was
down around her shoulders in a pretty, dark, waving tangle. The wind, he thought absently, tearing
through her hair in the convertible.
"I've traded cars," she said defiantly. "How do you like it? It was Abby's. You don't even have
to cosign with me, I can make the payments from my salary."
Justin glanced at Maria, who knew the look and made herself scarce. He sat down at the head of
the table, lit a cigarette and leaned back in the chair to stare intently at Shelby. "The last thing in the
world you need is a sports car. You already drive too damned fast."
She searched his dark eyes, reading the thinly veiled concern. "Somebody saw me in the car this
afternoon," she guessed.
He nodded. "Calhoun."
"I thought it was him." She studied her hands in her lap, turning the thin gold band on her
wedding finger. "I like speed," she said hotly.
"I don't like funerals," he shot back. "I don't intend having to go to yours. You'll take that sports
car back tomorrow or I'll take it back for you."
"It's mine!" she cried. Her green eyes flashed angrily. "And I won't take it back!"
He took a long draw from his cigarette. In his reclining position, his white silk shirt was drawn
taut over tanned muscles.
His chest was thick with hair that peeked out through the unfastened top buttons of his shirt. His
jacket was off, his sleeves rolled up. He looked devastatingly masculine, from his disheveled black hair
to his sensuous mouth.
"I'm not going to argue about it, honey," he replied. Through a veil of smoke, his black eyes
searched hers. "Calhoun told me you wrecked a car overseas."
She flushed. "That was an accident."
"You aren't going to have any accidents here," he said. "I won't let you kill yourself."
"For heaven's sake, Justin, I'm not suicidal!" she protested. She lifted her coffee cup to her lips
and took a fortifying sip of the black liquid.
"I didn't say you were," he agreed. He moved his ashtray on the tablecloth, watching it spin
around. "But you need a firmer hand than you've been getting."
"I'm not Abby," she said. Her finely etched features grew hard as she looked at him. "I don't
need a guardian."
He looked back, black eyes searching, quiet. "And while we're on the subject, I don't like you
working for Barry Holman."
She blinked. She felt suddenly as if control of her own life was being taken away from her.
"Justin, I didn't ask how you liked it," she reminded him. "I told you before we married that I wanted to
keep on working."
"There's more than enough to do around here," he said. He tapped an ash into the ashtray. "You
can manage the house."
"Maria and Lopez do that very nicely, thank you," she replied. She stiffened. "I don't want to
stay home and swirl around the house in silk lounge pajamas and throw parties, Justin, in case you
wondered. I've had my fill of charity work and flower arranging and social warfare."
He was looking at the cigarette, not at her. "I thought you might miss those things. In the old
days, you never had to lift a finger."
She studied her neat hands in her lap, pleating the thin silky fabric of the red and white dress.
"My father saw me as a parlor decoration," she said tautly. "He would have been outraged if I'd tried to
change my image."
He frowned slightly. "Were you afraid of him?"
"I was owned by him," she replied. She sighed, raising her eyes to Justin's. The curiosity there
puzzled her, but at least they were talking for a change instead of arguing. "He wasn't the easiest man to
live with, and he had terrible ways of getting even when Ty and I disobeyed."
"He kept you pretty close to home," he recalled. "Although he trusted you with me."
"Did he really?" she laughed hollowly. "Justin, you were the second man I ever dated and the
first I ever went out with alone. You look shocked. Did you think my father let me live the fife of a
playgirl? He was terrified that some fortune hunter might seduce me. I lived like a recluse while he was
alive."
Justin wasn't sure he understood what he was hearing. His head tilted a little and his eyes
narrowed. "Would you like to run that by me again?" he asked. "You hadn't been out with a man alone
until you went with me?"
"That's it," she agreed. "I didn't get out of my father's sight until after I broke the engagement
and went to Switzerland." She smiled sadly. "I guess the freedom was too much, because I ran wild.
The sports car was just an outlet, a way of celebrating. I never meant to wreck it."
"How badly were you hurt?" he asked.
"I broke my leg and cracked two ribs," she said. "They said I was lucky."
He finished his cigarette and crushed it out. "I didn't realize you were that sheltered," he said
quietly. He was only beginning to understand how innocent she'd been in those days. If she'd only [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]