Diana Palmer Texan Lovers. Diana Palmer

did, that was going to be one private memory. Abby wouldn’t share it any more than he would.

       Chapter Eight

      Abby groaned the minute the light got to her eyes. She had the world’s biggest headache, and nausea sat in the pit of her stomach like acid.

      She managed to get on her feet and into the bathroom, where she bathed her face with cold water and pressed a cold cloth against her eyes. She remembered drinking whiskey in the study with Justin. Then Calhoun had taken her to bed, and—

      Her head jerked up. In the mirror her eyes looked wild, and her paleness had been eclipsed by a scarlet blush. She’d let Calhoun see her. Worse, she’d let him touch her. She swallowed. Well, at least she remembered that he’d stopped before she’d gone to sleep, so nothing unspeakable had happened, thank God. As more of the details of her eagerness came back, she groaned in embarrassment. She’d never be able to look at him again, although what had happened would make the sweetest of memories to tuck in a corner of her mind for solace in her old age. Calhoun would never settle down or fall in love with her. He’d be forever out chasing his blondes. But this was something of him that Abby would always have. A tiny crumb of loving to live on.

      Now she understood what had happened that morning in her room. He hadn’t been rough on purpose. He’d wanted her. It gave her the oddest feeling of pride that she could have thrown him that far off balance. She was almost sure that no other woman ever had. Looking back, she thought she must have seemed terribly naive to him for reacting that way to an intimate kiss. But at the time his actions had seemed shocking and frightening. For all her dreams about Calhoun, she hadn’t realized what the reality of his lovemaking would be like. Now that she knew, it was like an addiction. She wanted more. But could she afford the risk of letting him that close again?

      A sob racked her slender body. Well, she had to get herself together. She had to remember her pride. She held her aching head. She had to remember, most of all, to never accept a drink of whiskey from Justin again! Or from anyone, for that matter. Drowning one’s sorrows was vastly overrated. She’d tried it, and now she knew that it only brought hangovers, not oblivion.

      She put on a gray slacks suit with a blue blouse, left her hair around her shoulders because she was hurting too much to worry with putting it up, and pulled on a pair of sunglasses. Then she felt her way down the staircase and into the dining room.

      Justin was sitting at the table with his head in his hands. He was dressed in jeans and a blue checked shirt, and when he looked up, his eyes looked even worse than Abby’s.

      “Nice touch,” he remarked, noticing the dark glasses. “I wish I had mine, but they’re out in the car.”

      “You look like I feel,” Abby said as she sat down, very gently, in the chair beside him, grimacing because even that slight jarring made her head feel like bursting. “How are we going to work today?”

      “Beats me,” Justin replied. “Calhoun’s gone.”

      Her heart skipped a beat, and she was glad she was wearing dark glasses. “Is he?”

      “Skipped town. Gone to Montana to look at stockers, or so he said.” He fumbled for a cigarette and lit it. “I’m rather disappointed. I had consoled myself all morning with the thought of beating the hell out of him for last night.”

      “How selfish,” Abby muttered as she tried to pour herself a cup of hot coffee from the carafe. “I ought to get in a lick or two of my own.”

      “I’ll sit on him, you can hit him,” Justin offered. He sipped black coffee and smoked quietly.

      Abby took one swallow of her coffee and sat back, feeling miserable. “Weren’t we singing something?” she thought, frowning. “Oh, yes, I remember….” She launched into a few measures of the song. Justin went white, and Maria came running out of the kitchen, beet red, waving her apron.

      A tidal wave of Spanish hit Abby between the eyes, delivered in a scolding, furious tone. “For shame, for shame!” Maria wound up breathlessly, crossing herself. “Where you learn such terrible language?”

      Abby stared at her blankly. “Justin taught me,” she said.

      Justin had his face in his hands. Maria launched into him, and he replied in the same tongue, a little sheepishly. Maria shook her head and stormed out of the room.

      “What did I say?” Abby asked him, wide-eyed.

      He took a slow breath. “You don’t want to know,” he said finally. “I think you’d better forget the song, Abby, or we’re going to be eating burned meals for a month.”

      “You taught it to me,” she pointed out.

      He groaned. “I was sauced. That was a drinking song I learned when I was barely out of school from one of the Mexican boys I used to pal around with. I didn’t even remember it until last night, and I never should have taught it to you.”

      “It’s all Calhoun’s fault,” she said.

      “I wonder why he started it?” Justin asked, watching her. “He didn’t show any signs of wanting to dance until he saw you and Tyler.”

      Abby shifted restlessly in her chair. “Well, he doesn’t want me,” she said miserably. “Not on any permanent basis, anyway. He told me last night that he was a bad marriage risk. He likes variety, you see.”

      “Most men do, until they find themselves so hopelessly enthralled with one woman that they can’t even look at anyone else,” Justin said tersely, staring at his coffee.

      “Is that why you spend all your time alone?” she asked gently, searching his hard, drawn face. “Because your world begins and ends with Shelby?”

      He glared at her. “Abby…”

      “Sorry.” She sipped the coffee. “It’s just that I know how it feels now.” She traced the pattern of her lipstick on the edge of the cup. “I feel that way about your stupid, blind brother.”

      The brief anger left his face, and he smiled gently. “I could pretend to be surprised, but I’m not. You’re pretty obvious. On the other hand,” he added, tilting his head back, “so is he. In all the years Calhoun’s been dating, this is the first time I’ve ever seen him behave as if he were jealous.”

      Abby bit her lower lip. “He…wants me,” she said. She couldn’t look at him as she said it.

      “Of course,” he replied carelessly, smiling at her shocked expression. “Abby, for a man that’s a big part of caring about a woman.”

      “I guess I don’t know very much about men,” she said with a sigh. “In fact, I don’t know anything. Except that I want to live with him all my life, and have children with him, and look after him when he’s sick, and keep him company when he’s lonely.” She bit her lower lip. “So, that being the case, Justin, I think I’d better get out while I still can. Before something happens and Calhoun winds up trapped.” She looked up at Justin, her fear plain in her eyes. “You understand, don’t you?”

      He nodded. “I think you’re very wise, Abby. If he cares enough, he’ll come after you. If he doesn’t…you might save both of you a lot of heartache by heading off trouble.” He shrugged. “But I’ll miss having you around.”

      “I’ll come back and visit.” She sipped more coffee, and as she began to feel a little better she took off her dark glasses. “Can I still have my twenty-first birthday party here?”

      “Sure,” he said readily.

      “You may not approve of my guest list,” she added gently.

      He took a deep breath. “Tyler Jacobs will be on it, I gather.”

      “And Shelby.” He glared at her, and she smiled hesitantly. “Justin, I can’t very well invite him and