Denim And Lace. Diana Palmer

through layers of time to the last day Cade had been teaching her how to ride. He’d grown impatient with her attempts to flirt, and everything had come to a head all too quickly.

      He’d caught her around the waist with a strength that frightened her and tossed her down on her back into a clean stack of hay. She’d lain there, her mind confused, while he stared down at her from his formidable height, his dark eyes glittering angrily. Her tank top had fallen off one smooth shoulder, and it was there that his attention wandered. He looked at her blatantly, letting his gaze go over her full breasts and down her flat stomach to the long, elegant length of her legs in their tight denim covering.

      “You don’t look half bad that way, Bess,” he’d said then, his voice taut and angry. He’d even smiled, but it hadn’t been a pleasant smile. “If all you want is a little diversion with the hired hand, I can oblige you.”

      She’d gone scarlet, but that shock led quickly to another. He moved down atop her, his heavy hips suddenly square over her own while his arms caught his weight as his chest poised over hers. He laughed coldly at her sudden paleness.

      “Disappointed?” he asked, holding her eyes. “As you can feel, little rich girl, you don’t even arouse me. But once we get your clothes out of the way, maybe you can stir me up enough to give you what you want.”

      Bess closed her eyes even now at the shame his words had made her feel. She’d never felt a man’s aroused body, but even in her innocence she knew that Cade was telling the truth. He’d felt nothing at all. She’d stiffened, her eyes tearing, her lower lip trembling, as the humiliation and embarrassment swamped her.

      Cade had said something unpleasant under his breath and abruptly got to his feet. He was holding down a hand to help her up, but before she could refuse it or even speak, Gussie was suddenly in the barn with them, her dark eyes flashing as she took in the situation with a glance. She’d hustled a shaken Bess into the house, ignored Cade’s glowering stare, and the next day the riding lessons became a memory.

      Bess had often wondered why Cade had felt the need to be so cruel. It would have been enough to simply reject her without crushing her budding femininity at the same time. If he’d hoped to discourage her, he’d succeeded. But her feelings hadn’t vanished. They’d simply gone underground. There was a lingering nervousness of him in a physical way, but she knew in her heart that if he came close and took her in his arms, she’d cave in and give him anything he wanted, fear notwithstanding. He hadn’t really touched her that day anyway. It had all been planned. But what hurt the most was that he hadn’t wanted her and that he’d taunted her with it.

      She rolled over with a long sigh. It was just her luck to be doomed to want the only man on earth she couldn’t have. He’d thought she was teasing because he was poor and she was rich, but that wasn’t the case at all. He couldn’t see that his lack of material things had nothing to do with her emotional attraction to him.

      He was a strong man, but that wasn’t why she loved him. It was for so many other reasons. She loved him because he cared about people and animals and the environment. He was generous with his time and what little money he had. He’d take in a stray animal or a stray person at the drop of a hat. He never turned away a cowboy down on his luck or a stranded traveler, even if it meant tightening the grocery budget a little more. He was hard and difficult, but there was a deep sensitivity in him. He saw beneath the masks people wore to the real person inside. Bess had seen his temper, and she knew that he could be too rigid and unreasonable when he wanted his own way. But he had saving graces. So many of them.

      It was odd that he’d never married, because she knew of at least two women he’d been involved with over the years. The most recent, just before her twentieth birthday, had been a wealthy divorcée. That one had lasted the longest, and many local people thought that Cade was hooked for sure. But the divorcée had left Coleman Springs rather abruptly, and was never mentioned again by any of the Hollisters. Since then, if there were women in Cade’s life, he’d carefully kept them away from his family, friends and acquaintances. Cade was nothing if not discreet.

      Bess herself had no real beaux these days, although she’d dated a few men for appearance’s sake, to keep Gussie from knowing how crazy she was about Cade. No other man could really measure up to him, and it was cruel to lead a man on when she had nothing to offer him. She was as innocent as a child in so many ways, but Cade obviously thought she was as sophisticated as her outward image. That was a farce. If only he knew how long she’d gone hungry wanting him.

      She closed her eyes and forced her taut muscles to relax. She had to stop worrying over the past and get some sleep. The funeral was tomorrow. They’d lay her poor father to rest, and then perhaps she and her mother could tie up all the loose ends and get on with the ordeal of moving and trying to live without the wealth they’d been accustomed to. That would be a challenge in itself. She wondered how she and Gussie would manage.

       CHAPTER FOUR

      AS BESS EXPECTED, there was a crowd at the simple graveside service, but it wasn’t made up just of friends and neighbors. It was a press holiday, with reporters and cameras from all over the state. On the fringe of the mob Bess caught a glimpse of Elise Hollister, stately and tall, standing with her three sons. She caught the older woman’s eye, and Elise smiled at her gently. Then, involuntarily, Bess’s eyes glanced at Cade. He looked very somber in a dark suit, towering over his mother and his brothers, Gary and Robert. Red-haired Rob was outgoing, nothing like Gary and Cade. Gary was bookish, and kept the accounts. He was a little shorter than Cade, and his coloring was lighter and he was less authoritative. Bess turned her attention back to what the minister was saying, aware of Gussie’s subdued sobbing beside her.

      The cemetery was on a small rise overlooking the distant river. It was a Presbyterian church graveyard with tombstones that dated back to the Civil War. All the Samsons were buried here. It was a quiet place, with live oaks and mesquite all around. A good place for a man’s final resting place. Frank Samson would have approved.

      “My poor Frank,” Gussie whimpered into her handkerchief as they left the cemetery. “My poor, poor Frank. However will we manage without him?”

      “Frugally,” Bess said calmly. Her tears had all been shed the night before. She was looking ahead now to the legal matters that would be pending. She’d never had to cope with business, but she certainly couldn’t depend on Gussie.

      She helped her mother into the limousine and sat back wearily on the seat as the driver climbed in and started the engine. Outside, cameras were pointed in their direction, but Bess ignored them. She looked very sophisticated in her black suit and severe bun atop a face without a trace of makeup. She’d decided early that morning that the cameras wouldn’t find anything attractive in her face to draw them to it. They didn’t either. She looked as plain as a pikestaff. Gussie, on the other hand, was in a lacy black dress with diamonds glittering from her ears and throat and wrists. Not diamonds, Bess reminded herself, because those had already been sold. They were paste, but the cameras wouldn’t know. And Gussie had put on quite a show for them. She didn’t look at her mother now. She was too disappointed in the spectacle she’d made of their grief. That, too, was like Gussie, to play every scene theatrically. She’d left the stage to marry Frank Samson, and that was apparent, too.

      “I don’t want to sell the house,” Gussie said firmly, glancing at her daughter. “There must be some other way.”

      “We could sell it with an option to rent,” Bess said. “That way we could keep up appearances, if that’s all that matters to you.”

      Gussie flushed. “Bess, what’s gotten into you?”

      “I’m tired, Mother,” Bess replied shortly. “Tired, and worn-out with grief and shame. I loved my father. I never dreamed he’d take his own life.”

      “Well, I’m sure I didn’t either,” Gussie wailed.

      “Didn’t you?” Bess turned in the seat to stare pointedly at the smaller woman. It was her first