Denim and Lace Read Free Page B

she only smiled. “I wouldn’t mind,” she said. “I like little things.”
    His jaw tautened. “Little things, sick things, stray animals,” he added to her list. “Go home, Bess. You don’t belong out in the sticks or on a ranch. You’re meant for better things.”
    He laid the calf gently in front of the pommel and swung easily up behind it, positioning it as his hand caught the reins. Bess watched him, her eyes faintly hungry, helpless. He looked down at her and saw that look, and his own eyes began to narrow and darken.
    â€œGo home,” he repeated, much more roughly than he meant to, because the sight of her disturbed him so.
    She sighed softly. “All right, Cade.” She turned and went back to her car, her head lowered.
    Cade watched her with an expression that would have spoken volumes, even to an innocent like Bess. Without another word he turned his horse and headed back toward Lariat.
    Bess wanted to watch him ride away, but she’d already given away too much. She loved him so. Why couldn’t she stop? Heaven knew he didn’t want her, but she kept flinging herself against the stone wall of his heart.
    She climbed back into the car, feeling weary and numb. She wished she could fight him. Maybe if she were spirited, he’d notice her, but she loved him far too much to go against him in any way. She wondered sometimes if that wasn’t the problem. He was worse when she knuckled under. She had spirit, it was just that she’d been trained from her childhood not to express it. It was neither dignified nor ladylike to brawl, as Gussie often put it.
    Bess pulled the car out into the road, feeling depressed. She was decorative and well mannered, and her life was as dead as a rattlesnake lying flattened in the middle of the highway. Her life had no adventure, no spark. She was nothing except an extension of Gussie. And not a very attractive extension at that, she realized bitterly.
    Her father was home when she got there, and he looked twice his age.
    â€œI thought you were going to be in Dallas until tomorrow,” she said as she hugged him warmly. He was only a little taller than she was, dark-eyed with salt-and-pepper hair and a live-wire personality.
    â€œI was,” he returned, “but something came up. No, I won’t tell you, so stop snooping,” he added when she opened her mouth to speak. “It will work out. It’s got to.”
    â€œBusiness, I suppose,” she murmured.
    â€œIsn’t it always?” He loosened his tie and looked around at the black-and-white marble floor leading to a carpeted staircase. There was a Waterford crystal chandelier in the foyer and elegantly furnished rooms off both sides of the hall. “My God, it gets worse every day. No matter how hard I work, I just go backward. Sometimes, Bess, I’d like to chuck it all and go to Africa. I could live in a hut somewhere in the jungle and ride an elephant.”
    â€œAfrica is in turmoil, most of the jungle has been eaten by the elephants, and some of the little ones are even being transplanted to other countries in an experiment to see if they can repopulate in areas with sufficient vegetation,” Bess informed him.
    â€œYou and your damned National Geographic Specials,” he muttered. “Never mind. I’ll sign aboard Moulin à Vent and help Jacques Cousteau and his son explore what’s left of the seas.”
    â€œThey have a new windship now. Its name is—”
    â€œI’ll tell your mother you didn’t go to the coffee,” he threatened.
    She laughed. “Okay, I’ll stop. Where is Mama?”
    â€œUpstairs primping. I told her I’d take her to San Antonio for lunch.” He checked his watch. “If she gets finished in time.”
    â€œShe’s still beautiful,” she reminded her father. “You can’t rush beauty.”
    â€œI’ve been trying for twenty-four