Dream's End (5 page)

 

They worked in a strained silence for the next hour. He leaned back in his chair at the desk and dictated letter after letter while Eleanor pretended a calm she didn't feel and managed just barely to keep up with his ruthless, deliberate speed. Every once in a while, she'd feel his eyes studying her, watching to see if he was getting her rattled. It was new, fighting Curry like this. Exciting, but very unnerving. The old comradeship had disappeared forever. Overnight they were adversaries, it seemed.

“Got that?” he shot at her when he finished the last letter.

“Yes,” she replied sweetly. “Disappointed?”

His jaw clenched. His face hardened, and he started to rise with a hint of violence that made her heart leap when the door opened suddenly and Amanda breezed in wearing a jaunty gray pantsuit with a white silk blouse.

“Good morning, darling.” She smiled at Curry. “Hi, Eleanor!” she added pleasantly.

“Good morning,” Eleanor replied, lowering her gaze as Amanda slid her thin arms around Curry's towering neck and reached up to kiss him.

“Eleanor?” Amanda turned abruptly, her eyes wide and disbelieving as they fixed on the young girl who sat in the dowdy spinster's place at the table beside Curry's huge desk. “Is it you?” she whispered.

“It is,” Curry smiled maliciously. His
eyes narrowed on his secretary's face. “Jim's handiwork,” he added.

Something in Amanda relaxed at the words. “Romance in the air?” she teased.

“Maybe,” Eleanor agreed cautiously.

Curry turned away. “Let me make a phone call and I'll take you down to the corral with me and show you how we brand the cattle.”

Eleanor could have sworn Amanda's complexion went two shades lighter.

“Branding? But, Curry, darling,” she purred, following him to place a pleading slender hand on his hard muscled arm. “I had my heart set on driving into Houston today.”

“We'll go later,” Curry told her inflexibly. “I can't take the time this morning. You know what we go through with roundup.”

“No I don't, actually, and I'm not at all sure I want to learn.” Amanda laughed nervously. “I don't like all that dust, and, darling, cattle smell so.”

Curry's jaw clenched hard. “You'll get used to it.”

Amanda looked resigned. “Perhaps. At least, after we're married, I can go to Houston and get away from it,” she teased. “I'll keep my apartment and we can spend weekends there.”

Curry didn't say anything, but his dark face was stormy. He dialed a number and waited. “Terry? I'm going to need you this afternoon if you can make it. I've got a new shipment of heifers and I want them all checked before I turn them in with the herd. You can? Thanks. See you about one.”

He hung up, and Eleanor knew immediately that he'd been talking to Terry Briant, the local vet. She smiled. Terry was a confirmed bachelor, a little crusty around the edges, but he knew his job and he was well liked in the community. He'd come for Curry, but this was one of the busiest times of the year for him, and he wouldn't have made room for many people in his schedule.

“All right,” Curry told Amanda, grabbing up his battered wide-brimmed ranch hat and propelled her out the door. He didn't bother to spare a glance for Eleanor, a deliberate omission that cut her. Curry could be the very devil when he wasn't getting things the way he wanted them. And, Eleanor thought doggedly, this was one time he wasn't going to win, no matter how hard he put on the pressure.

 

For the next two days, Eleanor did her job with robotlike precision, ignoring Curry's temper and impatience with a stoic calm that she was far from feeling. It was on the third day that things seemed to come to a head.

It had been a long day, and Eleanor was sitting in the porch swing with the phone in her lap talking to Jim Black when Curry came in from the fields where he'd been checking on the haying.

“Jim, I've got to go now,” she said as Curry came up the steps.

“When am I going to see you?” Jim asked pointedly.

“Maybe this weekend. I'll phone you. Good night.” She hung up before he could answer and got up long enough to put the phone back on the table by the settee before she curled back up in the porch swing.

Curry paused on the edge of the porch, leaning against one of the white columns to light a cigarette. He pushed the hat back away from his dark face and studied her through glittering eyes. The subdued light from the single fixture farther down the porch gave him a faintly satanic look. He looked as if it had been an unusually hard day. His shirt was completely unbuttoned and dark with sweat stains. His khakis were stained with grass and dirt. There was a cut on the back of one lean brown hand where blood had dried. And his face was heavily lined. He looked every year of his age.

“Talking to Jim?” he asked carelessly.

“I am allowed to do that, I suppose?' she asked sweetly.

He glared at her. “When you're on your own time,” he agreed. “Did you finish those letters I dictated?”

“Every last one,” she said cheerfully. “I did the production reports on the new additions, too.”

“So efficient, Miss Perrie,” he drawled with underlying sarcasm. “How will I live without you?”

“You could live without anybody,” she said quietly. “You're as self-sufficient as a Marine.”

“I was a Marine, little girl,” he reminded her.

“Poor Amanda,” she murmured. “She'll never really feel needed at all.”

“She'll feel needed, all right,” he said in a caressing undertone, and with a smile full of meaning.

She flushed uncomfortably. “No doubt,” she said curtly, “but will it be enough?”

He laughed deeply. “Don't you know the answer to that?”

It was a losing battle, and she knew it. She rocked the swing into motion, turning her attention to the dark silhouette of the trees in the yard, the insistent chirp of the crickets.

“Mr. King called today, by the way,” she said carelessly. “He said the plans for your new office complex had been completed by the architect and were ready for approval.”

“Has Magins signed the property transfer?” he asked.

“Of course,” she replied.

His eyes narrowed as he took a long draw from his cigarette. “You never cared for my tactics, did you, honey? But they work. No man ever got anywhere in big business without being just a little ruthless.”

“I can't picture Jim being that way,” she said quietly. And it was true, she couldn't. He was a gentleman, a caring man. Worlds away from Curry.

“He'll never amount to a damn, either,” he said harshly. “That spread will never be any bigger than it is right now because he doesn't have the ambition to grow. He'll live comfortably, but he won't have much to show for his investments.”

“Good for Jim,” she flashed, defending him. “It's nice to find a man now and again who's satisfied with what he's got!”

“Just what has he got, Eleanor?” he asked quietly. “Charm? Sophistication? Personality? Or is he just good in bed?”

She'd never felt such rage in her life. She trembled with it as she got out of the swing and walked past Curry toward the screen door.

“I won't take that kind of insult from you or anyone else,” she said icily. “You aren't going to grind your heel into me.”

His lean hand shot out suddenly, grasping her upper arm so hard that she could
feel it bruising, and jerked her around. She felt the heat of his body at his nearness, smelled the fragrance of tobacco mingled with the masculine odor of sweat as he held her there under his glittering eyes.

“You're getting damned sassy, little girl, and I don't like it,” he said in a voice that cut. “You may stab Black with that sharp little tongue, but don't think you can get away with it here. Nobody backtalks me, not on my land.”

“Oh, no, they wouldn't dare,” she returned, even though the effort to talk was choking her. “Mr. God Almighty Matherson doesn't take anything from anybody!”

“As you're about to find out,” he said ominously. The half-smoked cigarette went flying out into the yard, and both lean, steely arms went around her slender body, crushing her softness against the length of him.

T
he sudden, unexpected contact made her panic, and she fought him, struggling to put distance between them, to escape those arms that felt like steel bands, the crush of his chest hurting her.

“Let me go!” she cried wildly.

“Make me,” he said in a voice she couldn't recognize.

She threw her head back and looked up at him defiantly, her pale eyes throwing
off sparks as she panted with the unsuccessful effort to free herself. Her body felt like metal, stiff and icy, in the first brutal embrace she'd ever endured.

“Did you expect to win?” he demanded, and his eyes burned with suppressed fury. “I could break your young body like a matchstick.”

“All right, I'll admit that you're physically superior,” she panted angrily, “now will you let go of me?”

“Not until I give you what you've been begging for ever since I came up those steps,” he said in a low, dangerous voice.

Before she could ask him what he meant, his head lowered and she felt the crush of a man's lips against her mouth for the first time in her young life.

She stiffened at the hard, moist contact, at the urgent way he was trying to force her lips apart under the warmth of his, at the brutal way he was holding her so that she felt powerless against anything he might do.

He was making no allowances at all for her innocence, her inexperience. He was kissing her with a violent passion, his tongue running along the edge of her trembling mouth, his teeth nipping sensuously at her lower lip as his hands slid down her back to her hips and arched her against him.

A frightened moan broke from her throat. She pushed against his massive chest with all her might, feeling with a sense of terror the cool bare flesh with its light covering of curling hair against her fingers.

He tore his mouth away suddenly and looked straight into her wide, shocked eyes, dark with the fear she was feeling. Her face had gone white and even as he looked at her he felt the shudder race down the length of her body pressed so intimately against his.

The truth registered with a flash in his silvery eyes. “My God, you've never been kissed before!” he exclaimed, as if he couldn't believe what he was saying.

Her lips trembled as she tried to speak. “No, I haven't,” she whispered shakenly, “and if…if that's how it feels, I never want to again!”

His arms loosened and she took advantage of the momentary reprieve to tear loose and run. She didn't stop until she reached the safety of her room.

All through the long night, she lived that kiss over and over again. The first time should have had something of tenderness in it, consideration. She'd dreamed of kissing Curry, of being kissed by him, but that brutal assault was more of a nightmare than a dream.

He'd meant it as a punishment, and that was what it had been. A way to show her how weak she was, how vulnerable she was to his strength. She'd learned the lesson, but in a way that became more painful with every passing second. What had he thought of her? That she was easy, that she was really Jim Black's woman? Her eyes closed on the harsh memory.
Perhaps he had thought that, until he kissed her. A man with Curry's experience would hardly mistake a novice's reaction to his passion. She remembered with a tremor just how expert his demanding mouth had been. She wondered what it would have been like if she'd relaxed against his hard body and let him teach her how it could be between a man and a woman. But playing tutor to an inexperienced girl wasn't in Curry's line, and pleasuring her had been the last thing on his mind. He had Amanda for pleasure, and Eleanor, temporarily, for business.

The only thing that didn't make sense was why he'd chosen that particular way to get back at her. Curry wasn't the kind of man to experiment, or amuse himself with an unsophisticated woman. And it wasn't his usual method of revenge, either. But Eleanor had never fought with him until the past few days. She'd always given in with a smile and gone along with
whatever ruthless plan he devised with that brilliant, innovative mind of his. Now, things were different. She was fighting back, and he didn't like it, and he was using the only weapons he had.

She turned her face into the pillow, feeling its coolness drain some of the heat out of her face. Why couldn't she have fallen in love with Jim Black? He was so much more her type; gentle and kind and caring. Not at all like Curry. Curry would burn a woman alive and leave her in ashes. It was his nature. And now, more than ever, she prayed that the last days of her employment would go quickly, before he had a chance to wound her even more.

 

He was already out on the ranch when she finished breakfast and went to work the next morning. It was as if he couldn't face her—a ridiculous thought which she promptly dismissed. Curry never backed away from a confrontation of any kind, and he wouldn't be the least bit embar
rassed or self-conscious about what he'd done last night. Before he was through, he'd even find a way to make it look as if she'd tempted him to do it.

Amanda came by unexpectedly at lunch time, looking for Curry.

“He promised to drive me into Houston today.” The model pouted when Eleanor said she hadn't heard from her boss. “I'd been looking forward to lunch in a nice, quiet restaurant.”

“Bessie never minds setting another place, you know,” Eleanor said with kindness in her voice as she smiled at Amanda.

Amanda smiled back, her eyes puzzled at the change in Curry's secretary. “You look so different,” she said involuntarily. “Younger, more alive. Is Curry right, are you interested in Jim Black?”

Eleanor shifted uncomfortably. “He's a very nice man,” she admitted. “And a lot of fun to be with.”

“A lot older than you, though,” Amanda probed.

“He's only thirty-four,” she reminded the redhead. “A year younger than Curry Matherson.”

Amanda frowned. “You never call him Curry, do you? It's always his full name, or Mr. Matherson.”

She shrugged with a smile. “He's my boss. I'd feel terribly uncomfortable calling him by his first name.”

Amanda shook her head. “How you could work with him year after year and keep it strictly business is beyond me,” Amanda said as she perched herself on the edge of Curry's desk and lit a cigarette with long, tapered fingers. “Or is that why you wore that awful disguise, to keep things businesslike?”

That rankled, but Eleanor let it pass. “My upbringing didn't allow for frivolity of any kind,” she said. “But when Jim asked me to dress up for him…”

Amanda smiled with what looked like relief. “You couldn't resist, I suppose.”
She laughed. “Curry said that was you with Jim the night we were in the club. How awful for you to have to sit there and hear what Curry said about you.”

“It was…pretty awful,” she agreed quietly. “Thanks for defending me, anyway.”

“My pleasure, men can be such beasts. Is that,” she probed further, “why you gave him notice?”

“Part of it was. We had a terrible argument the next morning,” she admitted. “He…he said some pretty rough things about me. I suppose, added to what I'd overheard, it was really the last straw. And Jim's been trying to get me over to his place for over a year. I finally gave in.”

“He has a son,” Amanda said.

“Jeff. He's thirteen, and the image of his dad,” she laughed. “And Maude, Jim's sister, keeps house for them. She's quite a lady.”

“Sounds like a ready-made family,”
Amanda remarked. She took a draw from her cigarette and blew smoke out of her perfect, red mouth. “Children are the one problem I'm going to have with Curry. I can't risk a pregnancy for quite a few years if I'm to go on working, and I can't give up modeling. I've worked too hard, too long, to get where I am.”

“You're very good at it,” Eleanor said genuinely.

Amanda smiled lazily. “It's demanding, and it gets rough, but I love every second of it.”

“You couldn't take time off for a baby?” Eleanor asked.

“Babies give me goose bumps,” the model said drily. “I'm twenty-five, you know. And I've only got a few years left in modeling before the wrinkles start to show too much. Diapers and tears are a poor trade for spotlights and the salary I draw. Curry will understand. We'll both have to make a few compromises, but it won't be a bad marriage.”

Curry didn't make compromises, but apparently Amanda hadn't found that out, yet. Eleanor had a feeling she would before very much longer.

“You must love him very much.” Eleanor smiled.

“Love, my child, is highly overrated.” Amanda laughed. “I'm fond of Curry, but I want him more than I love him. And he wants me. And,” she added with narrowed eyes, “the day he puts the right ring on my finger, he'll get me; not before.” Her gaze flicked to Eleanor's stunned face. “Shocked, darling? It's the only way any woman's going to land Curry. He isn't the love-forever-after kind. He's a virile, sensuous man who wants a woman to match that volcanic passion of his. I've held him off so far, but it won't take much longer, and I'll have him in the palm of my hand.”

“You make it sound…cold.” Eleanor frowned.

Amanda shook her head. “It isn't. I'll
give Curry everything he wants, and in my own way, I'll care about him. But he doesn't really need a loving, possessive wife—he's too damned independent. He needs a woman in his bed occasionally who'll leave him alone the rest of the time, and I can give him that. Very few women could live with him on those terms, and you know it. A woman who loved him would literally smother him to death. I won't.”

Grudgingly, Eleanor had to admit that the model was right. Curry wouldn't like possession, or being clung to, or depended on. He was so independent himself that he wouldn't want a woman who wasn't the same way. The thought made her sad. It wasn't really much of a future.

“Oh, darling, there you are!” Amanda said suddenly, crushing out her cigarette as Curry came into the den, freshly showered, his hair still damp. He looked like a fashion plate in the gray suit that just matched his eyes. “I thought you'd forgotten,” Amanda teased, hugging him.

“I don't forget much, baby,” he said with a half smile. He glanced toward Eleanor, who was avoiding his eyes with a vengeance.

“Have you got enough to keep you busy until I get back from Houston?” Curry asked Eleanor with an edge on his voice.

“Of course,” came the calm reply. Still she wouldn't meet his eyes, feeling her heart running wild just at the sound of his voice as she remembered unpleasantly the last time she'd heard it.

“If you run out of work, you can start updating the files, cleaning out old material,” he added gruffly. “I'll want to start fresh when I replace you.”

“Yes, sir,” she said deliberately, her voice quiet, unhurried, efficient.

She could feel the smouldering anger before she flashed a glance at his face and saw it there. Her eyes fell back to the calendar she was studying.

“Do I have any appointments this afternoon?” he asked.

“No. You have an 8:30 appointment in the morning with that feed salesman from Atlanta,” she reminded him.

“Cancel it,” he told her. “I won't be back. Tell him I've solved my feed allotment problem by trading around with some of the other ranchers, and I won't need any extra shipments.”

“What if I can't find him?” she asked irritably.

“Then, you have breakfast with him, honey, and explain the situation,” he said with icy patience. “Wear your glasses and one of those damned sack dresses—it'll thrill him.”

Her jaw set and if Amanda hadn't been standing there, she'd have told him in no uncertain terms just where to go. He seemed to read the thought in her spitting green eyes and raised his head arrogantly, slitting his eyes down at her as if he was silently daring her to say it.

“I might just do that,” she said sweetly. “I need the practice.”

The emphasis on that last word wasn't lost on him, and he looked strangely uncomfortable for an instant before his hard face went impassive again.

“Let's get on the road, baby,” he told Amanda, sliding a possessive arm around her tiny waist. “It's a long drive.”

“Not the way you drive.” Amanda laughed. “Bye, Eleanor.”

“Bye,” came the soft reply. She almost added a bitter “have fun,” but she was a little afraid to push Curry any further. His temper was suddenly unpredictable, and Jim's words came back to her with blunt meaning. Curry was dangerous, all right, and even if she had been a little afraid of him before, it was without any substantial reason. Now, it wasn't, and she wondered how she was going to live through the next few days.

At least he wouldn't be in until late tomorrow; that was something of a reprieve. But he'd be with Amanda, and the thought of them together made her want
to cry. In just a little while he'd be married, and there'd be a barrier between them that nothing could break. Tears glimmered in her pale eyes. Three years of loving him, only to lose him to a woman who could only give him passion. He'd never have the son he craved, or anyone to care about him if he got sick, or when he grew old, or…