Heartless. Diana Palmer

old movies, where women sacrifice themselves for the good of their country?” he prompted, still smiling. But his eyes were taunting, wise, hinting at things that Gracie knew nothing about.

      “What old movies?” she asked absently. Her mind was on how fast her heart was beating.

      “Never mind,” he said heavily. He put her down abruptly, looking frustrated.

      “I don’t watch old movies, Jason,” she said, trying to placate him. “We don’t have any.”

      “I’ll buy some old ones,” he muttered. “Maybe some documentary ones, too.”

      “Documentaries? About what?” she asked blankly.

      He started to speak, thought better of it and made a thin line of his lips. “Never mind. Don’t be too long.”

      “I won’t.” She hesitated. “What shall I wear?” she added, wanting to soothe him because he liked it when she asked for his advice, and he seemed angry with her for some reason.

      He paused. His eyes swept down her body with a strange slowness. “Wear the gold gown I brought you from Paris,” he said softly. “It suits you.”

      “Isn’t it too dressy for a cocktail party?” she wondered.

      He moved back to her. He was so tall, she thought, that her head only came up to his nose. He looked down into her puzzled eyes. “No,” he replied. He touched her damaged coiffure. “And let your hair down for once. Wear it long. For me.”

      He made her feel warm and jittery. That was new. His voice was deep and slow, as soft as velvet. Her lips parted in anticipation as she stared into his eyes.

      He lifted her chin with his thumb and forefinger. His thumb moved suddenly, dragging across her mouth in a rough caress that made her breath catch.

      His large, black eyes suddenly narrowed, and his jaw clenched as he looked down into Gracie’s stunned gray eyes. “Yes,” he said quietly, as if she’d said something aloud. He let go of her, very slowly, and went down the staircase.

      She watched him go, fascinated. Her fingers lifted to her sensitized mouth and touched it lightly. Her heart was beating so fast that she thought it might try to fly out of her chest. She couldn’t quite get her breath. Jason had touched her in a new way, a different way than he’d ever touched her before. She didn’t dare think about it too deeply. Not now. She turned quickly and went into her room.

      

      THERE WERE A LOT OF people here tonight, she thought as she came down the long, curving staircase and surveyed the throng of well-dressed guests. It didn’t take much imagination to spot the computer company partners; they were wearing suits that didn’t quite fit and they looked out of place and uncomfortable.

      Gracie, a veteran of social gatherings, understood their confusion. It had taken her a long time to adjust to luxury cars and designer clothing and parties like this. In many ways, she was more comfortable with Jason’s cowboys than this elegant mix of professionals and big money. But she was fairly certain that she looked presentable, in the clingy gold gown that covered all of one arm and left the opposite arm and shoulder enticingly bare. It fell to her ankles, but the back drooped in a flow of silky fabric to lie just over the base of her spine, leaving the honeysmooth skin bare. Her pale blond hair swung around her shoulders in soft profusion. With the gown she wore a gold necklace of interlocking rings, with matching earrings. She looked pretty, and much younger than her real age.

      She walked up to the skinny, freckle-faced redhead who seemed the dominant partner and smiled. “Do you have everything you need?” she asked him gently.

      He looked down at her and flushed. “I, uh, well, I…that is…” he stammered.

      His round-faced, dark-skinned partner cleared his throat. “We’re sort of out of place here,” he began.

      Gracie put her arms through theirs and drew them along with her into the ballroom, where a small live band was playing, and guided them to the bar. “Nobody stands on ceremony here,” she explained pleasantly. “We’re just plain people, like everybody else.”

      “Plain people with private jets and world-class soccer stars for friends,” the redheaded one murmured, looking around.

      “Yes, but you’ll be in that same society one day yourselves,” she replied, smiling. “Jason says you’re both geniuses, that you’ve designed software that revolutionizes the gaming industry.”

      They both stared at her. “You’re his sister,” the shorter one guessed.

      “Well, his stepsister,” she said. “I’m Gracie Marsh.”

      “I’m Fred Turnbill,” the round-faced one said. “He’s Jeremy Carswell. We’re Shadow Software.”

      She shook hands with each of them in turn. “I’m very glad to meet you.”

      “Your…stepbrother,” Fred said, nodding toward the tall, elegant man with a champagne flute in one hand, talking to a famous actor. “He’s very aggressive. We weren’t even interested in being acquired, but he just kept coming. He’s offered us creative control and executive positions and even stock bonuses.” He laughed nervously. “It’s hard to turn down a man like that.”

      “I know what you mean,” she said.

      “He seems very much at home here,” Fred sighed. “I guess he is, considering his financial status.”

      She handed them flutes of champagne. “Listen,” she said confidentially, “he does what business requires of him. But you might have a different picture of him if you could see him throwing calves during roundup. And especially if you could see him ride.” Her gray eyes grew dreamy. “I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life than Jason on a running horse.”

      They were both looking at her with curious expressions. “On a horse?” Fred murmured.

      “Throwing calves?” Jeremy added.

      She smiled, still staring at Jason. “He owns a Santa Gertrudis ranch down in Comanche Wells. When he isn’t managing acquisitions, he’s busy working cattle right alongside his men.”

      “Well!” Fred exclaimed. “So he’s not just some greedy businessman trying to own the world.”

      “Not on your life,” Gracie said softly. “He goes to extremes to be environmentally responsible. He won’t even use pesticides on the place.”

      At that moment, Jason seemed to feel her gaze, because his head turned and black eyes lanced into hers across the width of the ballroom. Even at the distance, Gracie’s knees went weak and she seemed to stop breathing. It was the first time he’d ever looked at her like that. As if, she thought absently, he could eat her alive.

      She dragged her eyes away from his with a small, nervous laugh. “He isn’t what he seems.”

      Fred pursed his lips and exchanged glances with Jeremy. “That sort of puts a different complexion on things,” he said. “A man who gets out and works with his people isn’t the image we had of Mr. Pendleton. I guess we’re all victims of assumption.”

      “You never assume anything with Jason,” she told them. “When God made him, He broke the mold. There isn’t another one like him in the world. When Jason gives his word, he keeps it, and he’s the most honest man I’ve ever known.”

      Jeremy smiled down at her. “Well, you’ve sold us. I guess we’re about to join the corporation.”

      “You’re about to join the family,” she corrected. “Jason believes in holiday bonuses and good benefit packages, and he looks out for his people.”

      Jeremy lifted his glass. So did Fred. “Here’s to a prosperous future.”

      Gracie raised hers, as well, and toasted them. “I’ll drink to that.”

      She excused herself