Dream's End (11 page)

“I'll miss you, sugar. Please keep in touch with me. I'll never tell him a thing, I promise,” she added knowingly.

Eleanor nodded and, turning to Jim, went quickly out the door without looking back.

 

The first week was harder than she'd imagined anything could be. Not the work. Jim was patient, and Elaine and Maude and Jeff kept her mind occupied when she wasn't hard at work. But Curry seemed to follow her, always in her mind, on her mind, his face flashing before her eyes, night and day until she thought she'd never again see any peace.

Then, miraculously, after those first days were lived through, she began to lose the paleness and the sparkle came
back into her green eyes. It was like living through combat. Taking it one day at a time. She was going to survive it in spite of Curry Matherson.

 

“Amanda didn't come back with him,” Jim remarked over supper one night.

Eleanor concentrated on her mashed potatoes with a vengeance. “Didn't she?'

“Rumor is that he broke the engagement himself.”

“Best thing that could have happened,” Maude remarked with a nod. “She'd never have made him happy.”

“Traveling won't either, but it looks like he's trying it,” Jim said as he sipped his coffee. “He'd no sooner got back to the ranch than he took off again. Hasn't come home yet.” He frowned. “Maybe the memories are haunting him.”

Eleanor knew about haunting, she'd had her share. She could almost feel sorry for Amanda, but the redhead should have
known that she couldn't dictate terms to a man like Curry.

“Well, how do you like it here?” Jim asked Eleanor suddenly.

She laughed, gazing around the table to Elaine, Maude and Jeff. “How should I like being surrounded by nice people? None of you turn the air blue, or yell, or threaten to have me drawn and quartered if I don't finish my work exactly on schedule.” She glanced at Elaine with a beaming smile. “And I'm having a ball helping Elaine get everything ready for the wedding. I don't even mind addressing invitations.”

“Only two more weeks,” Jim sighed, his eyes drinking in his pretty fiancée. “How will I live?”

“One day at a time, like the rest of us,” Maude laughed.

“I think it's going to be keen, having a mom like the other guys,” Jeff volunteered with a wink at Elaine. “I've told everybody.”

“I hope I don't disappoint you,” Elaine told him with a smile. She was already taken with Jim's son, and it showed. She'd be good for him.

“As long as you don't try to read me any bedtime stories,” Jeff cautioned her, “we'll all get along just fine!”

And they all broke up at the plea.

 

Several days had gone by when Bessie called one night and asked to speak to Eleanor. She'd kept the lines of communication open, but this was the first time Bessie had called at night, and Eleanor had an ominous feeling about it when she picked up the phone.

“Something's wrong, isn't it?” she asked without preamble.

“To my mind, everything is,” Bessie admitted with a weary note in her voice. “He's back.”

“Jim said he'd been away,” came the soft reply, and there was no need to pretend she didn't know who Bessie was talking about.

“Well, he looks like the back end of beyond,” the housekeeper said gruffly. “And his temper's so raw I can't even talk to him. Eleanor, I've seen him in all kinds of conditions. Drunk, mad, irritated…but I've never seen him the way he is now. He's pushing himself so hard, I expect any day for one of the boys to bring him in unconscious with a heart attack. I don't know what to do. He won't talk to me, or to anybody else. I'm so worried I can hardly stand it.”

Eleanor knew what was coming, and she dreaded the words, but she had to ask, “What do you want me to do?”

“Come over here, and talk to him,” she replied, just as Eleanor expected. “He always would talk to you when he wouldn't say a word to anybody else. You can find out what's wrong with him, if anyone can.” There was a pause. “Eleanor, we both love that man, despite all his faults. I can almost hate him sometimes, but I can't stand by and let him kill himself. Can you?”

Eleanor stared down at the push buttons on the phone. “No,” she admitted weakly. “I can't. When do you think would be a good time?”

“Come to supper. I'll tell him I invited you to come see me. Will you?”

“For you. I'll get one of the boys to drive me over. Bye.”

“Thanks, Eleanor. I knew I could count on you.”

She hung up the phone with mixed emotions. Could she bear seeing Curry again with all this water under that bridge? Could she bear to hear him pour out the grief that his broken engagement must have caused him? She went upstairs to dress reluctantly. In many ways, this was going to be the hardest thing she'd ever had to do.

 

It was almost dark when Decker, one of Jim's ranch hands, let her out at the doorstep. The house looked just as she remembered it, big and warm and welcoming with light pouring out the windows
onto the ground. If only things had been different, she'd never have had to leave it, she thought wistfully.

She paused on the bottom step to watch Decker drive away, putting off the confrontation until the last possible minute. Then she went up the steps, remembering belatedly that she had to knock on the door now. She couldn't simply walk in as she'd been used to doing before. Everything was different now.

S
he waited breathlessly for someone to answer the door, nervously smoothing the white sleeveless dress down over her hips as she dreaded the sound of booted feet.

But it was Bessie who answered the door, drawing her inside to hug her heartily before she took her into the dining room.

“Curry, I invited company for supper,” Bessie called as they went into the
dining room, and Eleanor's heart stopped dead as she turned the corner and saw him unexpectedly sitting at the head of the table. She felt as if she'd been shot suddenly, looking straight into those narrow silver eyes without warning.

He looked older, tired, positively haggard, and he'd lost weight. His gaze slid up and down her like an artist's brush, copying every soft line of her body, her face, until his eyes came back up to capture hers and search them.

“If…if you'd rather, I can eat in the kitchen…with Bessie,” Eleanor stammered nervously.

He shook his head. “Sit by me,” he said quietly, drawing a chair out for her.

Bessie disappeared, leaving her stranded. She laid her purse down in a chair by the door and sat down next to Curry. Her eyes carefully avoided his.

“How are things going?” she asked casually.

“Fine,” he replied carelessly. He lifted
his coffee cup to his lips and took a sip of the hot, black liquid. He set it down again. “That's a damned lie,” he added quietly. “Nothing's right around here anymore. Is that why Bessie sent for you? Does she really think I need a shoulder to cry on?” he asked in a soft, dangerous tone.

She kept her eyes on the white tablecloth. “She was worried about you; don't be mad at her, Curry.”

“Were you worried?”

She kept her face down wordlessly.

He drew in a harsh breath and lit a cigarette. “No,” he said for her. “Of course not, why the hell should you be after the way I treated you? Are you happy, Jadebud?” he added in a softer tone.

“No,” she said involuntarily, letting the word slip out when she'd rather have bitten her tongue off.

“That makes two of us.” He reached out suddenly and caught her cool, nerveless fingers in his. “Honey, if you're not
happy now, how can you be happy married to him? Don't jump into anything!”

“Married? Me?” she exclaimed, meeting his eyes with a puzzled look in her own. “I'm not getting married.”

“But, Black said….”

“He's marrying Elaine,” she replied. “Elaine, whose father owns the Limelight Club,” she explained. “They're crazy about each other.”

“Oh. I see,” he murmured heavily. He took another long draw from his cigarette and meticulously thumped the small ash into the ashtray by his plate. “Rough, isn't it, Eleanor, wanting something you can't have?” he asked.

She gaped at him. He thought…he thought she was in love with Jim!

He glanced at her, mistaking the astonishment in her eyes. “I always could read you like a book,” he said quietly. “I've known all along how you felt about him. I'm sorry it didn't work out for you.”

She averted her eyes. “I'm sorry
things didn't work out for you,” she seconded. “I…I heard Amanda didn't come back.”

“Hell, I didn't want her back,” he said gruffly. “I caught her in her apartment with her photographer. A photographic session, they called it.” He grinned like the old Curry. “First time I've ever known it to be done when the photographer and the model had their clothes off.”

“Oh,” she whispered, reddening.

He glanced at her with a raised eyebrow. “It didn't embarrass me a bit. I took back the ring, wished them luck, and came home.”

“Why didn't she tell you the truth?”

“Knowing what I'm worth on the market, you can ask that?” he laughed. “My money has powerful attraction for most women, little one, didn't you know?”

“Only your money?” she asked with a little of her old audacity.

He looked straight into her eyes, and
there was something dark and strange and unreadable in his.

“We made sweet fires that afternoon, didn't we?” he asked her quietly, “and the night before it, too. My women have always been secondhand. It was a first for me as well, touching something innocent, cherishing it…. I'll never forget how soft your skin was, how eager you were to learn what I ached to teach you that night.”

She licked her lips to take away the dryness, folding her hands before her on the table to stop their trembling.

“It still embarrasses you to talk about it, doesn't it?” he asked gently.

She nodded, unable to find words enough to answer him. How could she tell him it was the closest she'd ever been to paradise?

“There's something I've got to know,” he said with sudden urgency, one of his lean hands reaching over to clasp both of hers.

“That night…was it me you were kissing, or were you pretending I was Jim Black?”

She framed a reply, but Bessie came in suddenly with the first of the supper, and conversation died away under the smell of fresh greens and perfectly cooked beef.

 

After supper, Bessie tactfully retired to the kitchen, leaving Curry and Eleanor to sit on the front porch where it was cool and quiet.

She sat down in the porch swing, and he took the place beside her, rocking the swing into a lazy creaking motion.

“I've missed you.” He said it quietly, and it sounded genuine. “Miss Maris doesn't live in. I can't drag her out of bed at two in the morning to take a letter.” He chuckled.

“I was more accommodating,” she agreed.

He put a careless arm around her shoulders and drew her against him. “Jim
doesn't work you as hard as I did, does he?”

“No.” She let her head rest on his broad chest, relaxing as she heard the slow, heavy beat of his heart under the cotton shirt, felt the warmth of him enveloping her. He smelled of starch and oriental cologne and tobacco, familiar smells that soothed her. This was magic, what was happening now. Magic, to lie against him and feel his breath on her forehead, and know the sweet security of all that lean strength so close to her.

“Bessie says you're overdoing it,” she murmured against his shirt.

“She's probably right.” His arm tightened. “I hurt, Norie,” he whispered deeply.

She nuzzled closer, one small hand snaking around his neck to hold him comfortingly. “I'm sorry,” she whispered. “Curry, I'm so sorry it didn't work out for you.”

“Eleanor…” He hesitated, and she felt
his other hand come up to tilt her face up to his. “I need you…just for a few minutes…”

She read the hunger in his voice, the ache for what he'd lost, the grief…

“Take what you need, Curry,” she said quietly, her body yielding to his in an unspoken invitation.

“I won't hurt you…” he whispered unsteadily as he bent to her upturned mouth, feeling it open deliciously as his lips touched it so that the restraint went out of him almost immediately. He lifted her across his knees and kissed her like a drowning man who never expected to feel a woman's softness again. There was desperation in the rough mouth invading hers, urgency. His arms contracted and hurt her, bringing a soft moan from her lips.

“I'm sorry,” he bit off against her mouth, relaxing his hold just a little. “Oh, God, I want you so, Norie! I want you so!”

“I can't,” she whispered brokenly.

“I'm not asking you to,” he said in a husky voice. “I'd never ask that of you.”

“But, you said…”

He brought her closer, tucking her face into his throat as he rocked the swing back into motion, cradling her soft body against him in a silence thick with hunger.

“Men are such damned fools,” he whispered gruffly. “We never seem to know what we want until it's too late.”

“You…you could take her back, you know,” she murmured miserably.

“Hell could freeze over, too,” he replied. He moved her body against his sensuously. “Soft,” he whispered, “soft, like down where you touch me.”

She felt the tremors trickling down the length of her body, new and narcotic. “Don't,” she protested weakly.

“Another first, little innocent?” he asked at her ear. His mouth slid down to her throat, whispering warmly against it.
His hand slid up her rib cage slowly, feeling her tense and surge up against him as his fingers spread out delicately against her softness. She moaned and tried to draw away.

“You let me do it once,” he reminded her softly, “and not through two layers of cloth.”

“Curry, don't,” she pleaded unsteadily.

“Did you ever let him touch you that way?”

“I've never let anybody…!” she protested, falling right into the trap.

She felt the smile she couldn't see as he gathered her close again and sat just holding her in the darkness.

“I've got to go,” she murmured.

His arms tightened possessively. “In a little while. Not yet. Not yet, Jadebud.”

She swallowed down the emotions he was arousing. “More games, Curry?” she asked bitterly. “Isn't that where you suggest, casually, that I might like to
pack up my broken heart and come back to work for you?”

He stiffened like steel against her.

She pushed away from him and got to her feet. “That's just what I thought,” she said, reading his reaction. “Sorry, I'm not the naïve little girl I used to be, thanks to you.”

“No, by God, you're not,” he replied, rising to tower over her angrily. “You've turned into a hard, cynical little hellcat who can't see the forest for the trees. Go back to him and eat your heart out. God knows there's only one way I want you, and it wouldn't be worth the effort at that!”

He turned on his heel and went into his den, slamming the door behind him.

 

The days seemed to go by in a haze after that. Eleanor felt as if she'd been torn in two, and the half that was left just barely functioned at all. She didn't think she could ever forget the whip in Curry's deep voice as he'd told her bluntly that
there was only one way he wanted her, but it wouldn't be worth the effort. Not that she hadn't known that all along. It was so obvious.

But what had he meant, she couldn't see the forest for the trees? That had puzzled her. That, and the fact that he really thought she was in love with Jim. If only it had been true. Loving Curry was a one-way ticket to heartache. She couldn't stop. It had become a way of life over the years, and life without him was as flat as a soft drink left out in the sun.

Every afternoon, she had Decker saddle a horse for her, and she rode. Sometimes it was for a few minutes, others, for an hour or two. And wherever she went on the property that joined Curry's, her eyes searched for him. She'd have given blood for just a glimpse of that tall, commanding figure in the saddle. But it never seemed to happen that way. At least, not at first.

Then, finally, two weeks after the
stormy scene with him, she was riding along the banks of the river when he came upon her on his black stallion, an unexpected confrontation that made her heart race as she drew the chestnut to a halt under a spreading oak.

His eyes were cold as they drifted over her slender figure in jeans and a cool blue cotton blouse.

“Lost?” Curry asked gruffly, a smoking cigarette held loosely between the fingers on his pommel.

She shook her head. “Just riding,” she murmured.

“On my land,” he told her narrowly.

“I…I thought the river was the boundary,” she said in a subdued tone, her eyes drawn involuntarily to the hard masculine lines of his face under the brim of his hat.

“It is, most of the way. But not here.” He leaned forward, studying her. “You've lost weight,” he remarked quietly. “A lot of it. Doesn't Black feed you?”

“I eat,” she replied. She studied his haggard face. “You don't look so terrific yourself.”

“I'm pining away for my lost love, didn't you know?” He laughed bitterly. “When's the wedding?”

“Next week. You're invited.”

“No thanks,” he replied flatly. “I can't stomach the damned ceremonies. What a hell of a way to get a woman into bed.”

“He loves her, Curry,” she said, meeting his gaze levelly.

“You'd better believe he wants her as well,” he returned. “Loving and wanting go together, little girl, for all that you'd like to believe they're completely unrelated.”

“I thought you were the one making comparisons between love and the tooth fairy,” Eleanor reminded him.

“In the beginning, I did.” His pale eyes stared blankly at the river. “I was wrong.”

Her heart ached for him. He was hurting in a way she never thought to see him hurt. She hadn't realized how much he'd loved Amanda.