Diana Palmer Texan Lovers. Diana Palmer

      “Oh, my God,” Tyler sighed. He gave Misty a rueful glance. “Your doing, I gather?”

      Misty blinked her long false lashes at Tyler, and her blue eyes twinkled. “I provided transportation, that’s all. Abby is my friend. I’m helping her to rebel.”

      “You’ll help get her killed if you aren’t careful. Where’s Calhoun?” he asked Abby.

      “Out with one of his harem,” she said with a mocking smile. “Not that I mind, as long as he’s out of my hair for the evening,” she added carelessly.

      “He dragged her out of line at the male revue last night at the Jacobsville theater,” Misty explained. “We’re getting even.”

      Tyler’s eyes widened. “You tried to see a male strip show? Abby!”

      Abby glared at him. “Where else do you expect me to get educated? Calhoun wants me to wear diapers for the rest of my life. He doesn’t think I’m old enough to go on dates or walk across the street alone.”

      “You’re like a kid sister to him,” Tyler said, defending his friend. “He doesn’t want you to get hurt.”

      “I can get hurt if I like,” Abby grumbled. Her eyes closed. She was feeling worse by the second, but she couldn’t let on. Tyler was as bad as the Ballenger brothers. He’d have her out of here like a shot if he thought she was sick.

      “What are you drinking?” Tyler asked, staring at her glass.

      “Gin and tonic,” she replied, opening her eyes. “Want some?”

      “I don’t drink, honey,” Tyler reminded her with a slow smile. “Well, I’ve got to pick up Shelby at the office. She had to work late tonight. Watch out for Abby, Misty.”

      “Of course I will. Sure you won’t stay and dance with me?” Misty asked.

      Tyler got up, his eyes worried as they trailed over Abby’s wan face. “Sorry. I don’t usually have to get Shelby, but her car was in the shop today and they didn’t finish with it.”

      “Lucky Shelby, to have a brother like you,” Abby mumbled. “I’ll bet you don’t have a kamikaze pilot fly behind her when she goes to work, or a gang of prizefighters to walk her home after dark, or a whole crew of off-duty policemen to fend off her suitors….”

      “Oh, boy,” Tyler sighed.

      “Don’t worry,” Misty told him. “She’s fine. She’s just miffed at Calhoun, that’s all. Although how anybody could get upset at a dishy man like that being so protective—”

      “Dishy isn’t a word I’d use to describe Calhoun if he finds Abby like that and thinks you’re responsible for it,” Tyler cautioned. “Have you ever seen him get angry?”

      Misty pushed back her curly hair uncomfortably. “Justin’s temper is worse,” she reminded him.

      Tyler lifted an eyebrow. “Don’t be so sure. They’re cut from the same cloth.” He touched Abby’s shoulder. “Don’t drink any more of that.” He gestured toward her drink.

      “Whatever you say, Ty,” Abby said, smiling. “Good night.”

      “Good night.”

      He waved and left them there.

      “I wonder what he was doing here,” Misty said, puzzled. “Since he doesn’t drink.”

      “He may have been looking for somebody,” Abby murmured. “I guess a lot of cattlemen congregate around here on the weekends. This stuff is pretty good, Misty,” she added, taking another sip.

      “You promised you wouldn’t,” she was reminded.

      “I hate men,” Abby said. “I hate all men. But especially I hate Calhoun.”

      Misty chewed her lower lip worriedly. Abby was starting to tie one on, and that wasn’t at all what Misty had had in mind. “I’ll be back in a minute, honey,” she promised, and got up to go after Ty. She had a feeling she was going to need his help to get Abby to the car, and now was the time to do it.

      The minute she left, the burly, intoxicated man who’d been watching Abby for the past hour seized his opportunity. He sat down next to her, his small, pale eyes running hungrily over her.

      “Alone at last,” he drawled. “My gosh, you’re a pretty thing. I’m Tom. I live alone and I’m looking for a woman who can cook and clean and make love. How about coming home with me?”

      Abby gaped at him. “I don’t think I heard you?”

      “If you’re here with a girlfriend, you’ve got to be out looking for it, honey.” He laughed drunkenly. “And I can sure give it to you. So how about it?” He put his pudgy-fingered hand on her arm and began to caress it. “Nice. Come here and give old Tom a kiss….”

      He pulled her toward him. She protested violently, and in the process managed to knock her drink over onto him. He cursed a blue streak and stood up, holding her by the wrist, homicide in his drunken eyes.

      “You did that on purpose,” he shot at her. “You soaked me deliberately! Well, let me tell you, lady, no broad pours liquor on me and gets away with it!”

      Abby felt even sicker. He was hurting her wrist, and there was a deathly hush around them. She knew that most people didn’t involve themselves in this kind of conflict. She couldn’t fight this man and win, but what else was she going to do? She wanted to cry.

      “Let her go.”

      The voice was deep, slow, dangerous and best of all, familiar. Abby caught her breath as a tall, heavily built blond man came toward her, his dark, deep-set eyes on the man who had Abby’s wrist. He was in a gray vested suit and a dressy cream-colored Stetson and boots, but Abby knew the trappings of civilized company wouldn’t save this ruddy cretin if he didn’t turn her loose. Abby had seen Calhoun lose his temper, and she knew how hard he could hit when he did.

      “What’s she to you?” the drunken cowboy demanded.

      “My ward.”

      Calhoun caught the smaller man’s wrist in a hard, cruel grasp and twisted. The man groaned and went down, holding his hand and cursing.

      “Hey, you can’t do that to Tom!” one of the man’s cronies protested, standing up. He was almost Calhoun’s size, and a lot rougher-looking.

      “Want to make something out of it, sonny?” Calhoun asked in a soft drawl that was belied by the dark glitter in his eyes.

      “You bet I do!”

      The younger man threw a punch, but he was too slow. Calhoun’s big fists put him over a table. He reached down and picked up the Stetson that the man’s blow had connected with and looked around the room as he ran his fingers through his thick, silky blond hair.

      “Anybody else?” he invited pleasantly.

      Eyes turned the other way, and the band started playing again. Then Calhoun looked down at Abby.

      She swallowed. “Hi,” she said, and tried to smile. “I thought you were out on a date.”

      He didn’t say a word, but his glittering eyes told her every single thing he was feeling. He wouldn’t admit for a minute that his dinner date was strictly business, or that he’d expected something like this after the argument he and Abby had had. She was giving him fits, but he didn’t let his expression show how concerned he really was.

      “Did you see Misty?” she asked hopefully.

      “Luckily for her, no,” he said in a tone that could have boiled ice water. “Get your purse.”

      She fumbled on the chair beside hers for it, weak and shaky. He had a gift for intimidating people, she thought, watching him slam his Stetson over his eyes at a slant. The men who were picking themselves