Читать книгу: «The Man She'll Marry»

CHAPTER ONE

THE San Antonio nightspot was crowded and loud. The dance floor was a veritable sea of bodies. Colored lights flickered and flashed and bounced rapidly over the dancers.

Tracy LeDeux watched it all through jaded eyes. Somehow everyone seemed to be trying too hard to have a good time. Their movements were too enthusiastic, their laughter too loud, their high spirits too forced.

Just like hers.

She glanced across the table at her date and saw the predatory gleam in his eyes. Gregory Parker III was movie star handsome. Unfortunately, he knew it. His fine Southern manners had turned out to be a thin veneer. No wasn’t a word he’d heard often in his life of privilege and he was unhappy about her refusal to go home with him. He’d spent a small fortune on her that evening and it was clear that he expected a return on his investment.

Whether she felt like giving it to him or not. Why hadn’t she seen what he was like before she’d agreed to go out with him?

Because she hadn’t wanted to see it. She knew almost no one in San Antonio, and she’d been bored and lonely. One more solitary night in her penthouse might have sent her over the edge. Gregory III had provided a welcome distraction. But five minutes after they’d sat down to a fine dinner she’d realized she might have done better to go over the edge.

She had to resist the urge to lean away when Greg surged close to her, his whiskey breath strong in her face.

“It’s late, Tracy. Let’s go to my place, have a drink.” Greg smiled at her the way vain, handsome men smiled when they were determined to get something. This was a man who’d got by on his looks and his family’s money, a man too spoiled to be truly interested in pleasing anyone but himself. Which was why he’d ignored both of her earlier refusals to the same suggestion.

Tracy made herself smile at him, a playful, chiding smile she hoped would appease him. “It’s not that late, Greg. I need to go to the ladies’ room.”

Just that quickly, she escaped him. She managed it so swiftly that she’d caught only the start of another of his spoiled little boy frowns. There was a telephone in the ladies’ lounge. She would call a cab and go home. Later she could claim sudden illness. It was the coward’s way out, but she’d seen the hint of anger in Greg’s gaze, and he’d been drinking heavily. Some scrap of self-preservation warned her that the moment they were away from other people he would drop any pretense of gentlemanly behavior.

The tall cowboy who collided with her in the crowd was dressed no differently than half the men in the nightclub. But he was tall—huge—his six foot plus height making her feel as small as a child. Her impact against his hard body sent a flash of heat through her and she glanced up in surprise. But the moment she saw who it was beneath that white dress Stetson, her heart shriveled.

Ty Cameron was one of the most ruggedly handsome millionaire oilman/ranchers in Texas. His blond hair was a bright mix of bronze and wheat and white from the sun, and when combined with his sun-darkened skin and the deep vivid blue of his eyes, he was striking.

Tracy had never felt so petite and feminine as in that unexpected moment of impact. But the instant she saw the cold light of recognition in his gaze, she felt sick. The world took a sudden dip. If he hadn’t taken hold of her arms to steady her, the shock of seeing him—of him seeing her— might have made her faint. She was so profoundly ashamed of what he knew about her—of what he must think—that she wanted to disappear.

Her ever-present guilt spiked high on a fresh tide of regret. She’d hoped to never see him again. She should have known she’d have to leave Texas to ensure that.

Her shaky, “Pardon me,” acknowledged nothing more than their accidental collision. She pulled away from him, relieved beyond words when his hands fell away and the low-voltage current of his touch was no longer sending tiny shocks over her skin.

She would have run from him if she could, but the crowd was too dense for her to accomplish more than a slow retreat as she wove between bodies to put as much space between her and Ty Cameron as possible. At last she reached the ladies’ lounge and made her call. But the news that she might be in for a forty-five minute wait upset her even more.

What were her chances of leaving the nightclub and finding a cab on her own? She’d hardly ever waited for a cab. But then, she’d rarely called for one after midnight. She dreaded the thought of standing on the street at this time of night waiting to flag down a taxi.

If she was gone too long, Greg might come looking for her. The last thing she wanted was for him to find her standing alone outside. She’d have to go back to the table, wait a few minutes, then excuse herself to go back to the ladies’ room. Then she could slip out. A second trip might lend credence to her later plea of illness.

The new complication was Ty Cameron. If she went back to the table, she might see him again. The idea made her nerves crackle with anxiety. Hopefully the place was too crowded for a second encounter. Perhaps now that he knew she was around, he would avoid her. She was certain he wanted to see her even less than she wanted to see him.

Resigned to the perils in her plan to escape, Tracy checked her hair and makeup. The sight of her pale face in the mirror gave her another shock. Her eyes were puffy, her complexion unnaturally flushed and blotchy. She’d been drinking too much lately, and it was beginning to show.

It had started with a nerve-calming glass of wine on nights when insomnia plagued her. Now she couldn’t sleep without it. She was terrified she was becoming an alcoholic, but she didn’t seem to have the strength to do anything about it. She wasn’t certain anymore that she was worth the effort. The sick feeling of doom panicked her and drove her to exit the lounge to lose herself in the noise of the nightclub.

It was almost a relief to reach her table. She’d not caught so much as a glimpse of Ty Cameron. Perhaps he’d been on his way out of the nightspot. She’d been too rattled to notice if he’d been with anyone.

Ty Cameron watched the petite blonde. Tracy looked thinner than when he’d last seen her. She was all huge blue eyes and blond hair. And legs. Perfect legs. She still looked as vulnerable as a child, still carried that lost look. He’d heard she’d parted ways with her poison-pill mother, so maybe Tracy had wised up. Maybe the huge inheritance she’d come into had given her a choice.

Though she’d made up for the terrible things she’d done, the fact that she’d done them in the first place indicated a character flaw he couldn’t abide. He figured she was as wicked and worthless as her mother. Or soon would be.

Nevertheless, as he watched her return to her table and saw that she was with Parker, he felt a glimmer of sympathy. He could read her blue eyes as if they were flashing neon letters a foot tall, and what he read in them was worry.

She ought to worry. Parker fancied himself a ladies’ man and he preferred fragile blondes. Tracy LeDeux was in for a night of sex-capades, though if she was as much like her soulless mother as he thought, she was promiscuous enough to handle it.

He was about to look away from Tracy and dismiss her presence altogether when he noticed her drink slip from her fingers. The glass tumbled to the table, but Tracy stared at it numbly. Her lashes fell shut heavily, then opened.

She turned her head to glance at her date, but she swayed with the movement. Parker reached over suddenly to steady her. Ty couldn’t have missed the gleam of anticipation in Parker’s smile. Or the woozy distress on Tracy’s face.

The dizziness had come over her suddenly. She was so weak, so horribly uncoordinated. The narrow tunnel that had shrunk the room grew darker and narrower with every hard beat of her heart. The terror she felt was overwhelming as the world swam away in a gray haze.

Tracy’s first coherent thought was that she felt safe. Cocooned. In spite of a faint headache, she felt an odd peace.

It was that strange sense of safety and peace that made her rouse herself. She rarely felt safe, and peace was a foreign sensation. The heavy guilt that had weighted her heart for so long had banished any sense of ease or genuine self-worth.

Was she truly awake or was she dreaming? She rolled to her back in the big bed and forced her eyes open, struggling to cling to the warm feelings. But the moment she got her eyes to focus, that rare sense of safety and peace vanished. This was not her bedroom.

The events of the night before came roaring back. Greg Parker’s face swam in her memory like a ghoul. The last thing she remembered was him advancing on her, picking her up, then…nothing. Nothing!

The mad whirl of terror made her stomach churn. She started to fling off the sheet and comforter to race for the bathroom, then froze as a second traumatic revelation pounded into her brain: she wasn’t wearing her dress!

The horror she felt burst out of her in a panicked sound of distress and she clutched the bedclothes to herself.

The rough male voice that sounded from the foot of the bed made her jump.

“Here.”

She barely had time to glance in the direction of the voice before a thick white terry-cloth robe came sailing through the air at her.

“Put that on and get cleaned up. Your dress is on a hook in the bathroom.”

Ty Cameron stood at the foot of the bed like an Old West lawman who’d tracked down an outlaw he meant to lynch. Contempt glinted in his cold gaze. The shock of his presence was quickly swallowed up by overwhelming mortification.

Shame made her voice a raspy little croak. “Wh-where am I?”

Ty’s harsh mouth quirked. “Sober up and figure it out.”

The words were a slap that sent scorching heat into her face. She felt the hurt to her soul when the look in his eyes suddenly switched to indifference. It was a look that let her know she’d been judged and found so in want that she wasn’t worth another second of his attention.

As if to underscore the impression, he turned from her and walked to the door. He closed it behind him with a finality that shook her.

The chill that descended sliced into her heart like a shard of ice. She was contemptible, unredeemable. With one look and a few terse words, Ty Cameron had somehow confirmed her secret fears about herself and her dark terrors about how her life would go.

She was wealthy, close to obscenely wealthy. At almost twenty-three, she was young and she still had her looks, but her life was worth nothing. She had no one. She had no real stability, no ambition, and no place to belong. There was no point to her life, no compelling reason to exist.

If she died at that moment, she wasn’t certain anyone but her mother would care. Even then, the only thing Ramona would want to know when she found out her only child was dead was whether Tracy had made a will and left her money.

Somehow, Tracy managed to mute her despairing thoughts. She had to pull herself together. Solving the mystery of what had happened to her and how she’d ended up with Ty Cameron was a distant second to the frantic need to get away from him.

Once she’d showered, brushed her teeth with the new toothbrush laid out, and tried to do something with her hair, Tracy hurried silently through the huge, single-story ranch house. She reached the large red-tiled entry hall and came to a shaky halt.

She knew she was at Cameron Ranch, but that also meant she was miles from San Antonio. She had no car and no way to leave.

Unless she could call a car rental agency and have a car delivered. Her heart sank. She’d need a credit card number for that, and all she had in her small evening bag was her driver’s license, a few cosmetics, and the key to her penthouse.

The deep voice that carried from the direction of the dining room sent her panic higher.

“Come in and get something to eat.”

The invitation was nothing more than basic good manners. Ty Cameron was the kind of man who’d at least feed a ratty stray before he chased it off or sent it to the pound. A touch of compassion, but an unwavering determination to do nothing more than was humane. And for all her money, Tracy LeDeux was the ratty stray.

Tracy started toward the sound of his voice on reluctant feet. Oh God, she’d hate to see his harsh face, to see the condemnation in his eyes. He despised her. Then again, she despised herself, so at least they agreed on something.

More of the events of the night before had come back to her, though she still didn’t recall anything after she’d felt the dizziness and Greg had zoomed close and picked her up.

What was clear was that whatever had happened next, Ty Cameron had brought her to his ranch and put her to bed. Somehow he’d cut Gregory III out of the equation.

She hoped it had been before Greg had succeeded at anything. Logic told her that although her head pounded, she felt queasy, and her nerves were on edge, there were no other physical aftereffects of the night before. No permanent consequences, no sexual shame to endure. At least not from last night.

But her terror of being that vulnerable undermined logical thought. Since it was clear to her now that Greg had drugged her, how much more had he done to rob her of choice? Black memories stirred and she felt their poison rise.

A wave of dizzy fear made her falter at the wide doorway into the large, formal dining room.

If Greg had violated her, he must have discarded her in some public place, which accounted for Ty’s rescue. And Ty was a man of the world. He’d know at a glance what had been done to her. Oh God…

“You should see a doctor.”

Ty’s grim words were somehow a veiled confirmation of her worst fears. Tracy put out a hand to the door frame, her knees trembling almost too much to hold her up.

“D-did he…” She couldn’t put her worst fear into words. She struggled to make herself look at Ty’s stern face and braced herself for his answer.

Ty sat at the head of the polished table that was set for lunch. He wore the usual cowboy clothes, denim and chambray, and by now he’d probably put in a half day’s work. His hard gaze took her in, then settled on her pale face and sharpened. He knew what she was asking.

“Did he what? Take what you offered?”

Emotion stung her eyes but she held it back. “I didn’t.”

Cynicism flashed over his handsome face. “What did you think would happen when you got drunk with someone like Parker? No one’s that naïve.”

Tracy’s heart quivered with hurt. She swallowed convulsively and fought for a scrap of dignity.

“I need to get back to San Antonio. C-can I use your phone?” She hated that she’d stuttered. Hated that she’d shown him anything of the shamed horror in her soul.

“You can borrow a car. I’ll have it picked up later.” He nodded toward the place that had been set for her at the table. “Come in and have something to eat.”

Tracy knew absolutely that she wouldn’t be able to swallow a bite of food. Not Ty Cameron’s food, not at his table, and certainly not under his condemning gaze. At the mercy of whatever devastating remark he’d make next.

“I need to go home now. I have to be somewhere.”

The lie made everything so much worse. It was another grim weight on a conscience already too heavily burdened.

And Ty could tell it was a lie. The way he looked at her said so. The fact that he didn’t challenge it or remark on it let her know that honesty wasn’t a reasonable expectation where she was concerned.

Ty leaned back in his chair and slid a hand into his jeans pocket. He held up the keys he pulled out.

“The silver Cadillac at this end of the garage,” he said, then tossed her the keys. Tracy caught them, amazed she’d been able to do it.

Ty’s eyes sharpened on her again. “Good. You’ve got decent reflexes and coordination. People on the roads will be safe.”

That’s when she understood that tossing her the keys had been a test rather than a careless demonstration of disrespect.

“Park it in a good spot where it won’t get hit,” he went on. “Put the keys under the seat, lock them in, then call and leave a message where to pick it up.”

Which meant that he didn’t want to see her again, didn’t care to speak to her personally, hence the precise instructions. Because he meant to drive home the notion that he couldn’t stand her, that she was dirt under his boots.

Her soft, “Thank you,” was brittle. His vivid gaze held hers ruthlessly and she couldn’t seem to look away. He was searching deep, and probably seeing too much. It was a cinch he didn’t detect anything of value.

Tracy turned and walked away with as much outward dignity as she could summon. It was faked, of course. Just like almost everything she showed the world.

She let herself out the front door of the big ranch house, then winced. The noon sun was brutally bright. And hot. Hot enough to make her stomach pitch and the world go blurry. Her knees felt rubbery by the time she walked to the big garage and let herself in the side door. The dimness inside relieved only a little of the pain in her head.

Once inside the Cadillac, she adjusted the seat then couldn’t get the key in the ignition. Frustration made her fumbling worse. She was a wreck. Was she in any condition to drive back to town?

The alternative—that she’d have to face Ty again and seek his help—made her struggle to steady her hand and match the key to the ignition. This time, she succeeded. The big engine purred to life and she gave a relieved sigh. She could do this.

Tracy found the garage door remote on the visor and pressed the button. The big door motored open and she pushed the visor up.

But the visor dropped back down. The remote clipped to it fell into her lap. Tracy dutifully picked it up and clipped it on the visor before she turned to look over her shoulder to back the big car out of the garage. The sudden movement made her dizzy, but she ignored the feeling. The car rolled only a yard or so before the visor again tipped down and the remote again fell into her lap.

She should have left the remote where it fell or tossed it to the dash. Instead, she clipped it to the visor, pushed the visor up, then turned dizzily to continue slowly backing the car.

It moved only a couple of feet before she sensed the visor begin to tip down. Still turned to watch where she was going, she threw up her hand to keep it in place. Impatience made her hit the visor with more force than she’d intended.

And she must have triggered the button on the remote because the big door started down, though Tracy didn’t realize that until she saw the bottom edge of the door lower into sight.

Everything went weirdly wrong then. Still turned to back out, Tracy pressed down on the brake. At the same time, she felt for the remote on the visor and pressed the button, thinking the door would reverse and go up.

But the door didn’t stop. Alarmed, Tracy shoved down on the brake, but her foot slipped off the edge and the heel strap of her shoe caught. She jerked her shoe free and jabbed desperately for the brake.

She was too dizzy and uncoordinated to locate the brake pedal, but panic helped her manage it. Or so she thought. She’d expected to stop the car, so it was a shock when the big vehicle lurched backward. The massive door scraped heavily onto the trunk as it pressed relentlessly downward. The squawk of metal heightened her hysteria as the door scraped deeper along the trunk then hit the back glass of the car.

Car and door strained against each other, defying her effort to stop the nightmare as she made a last jab for the brake pedal. Suddenly the big car engine roared and the garage door popped out of its tracks.

In that next split second, Tracy realized she’d been pressing the accelerator. Horrified, she turned to face the windshield, pulled her foot off the gas and made a new try for the brake. The loud crash of the big door collapsing on the car roof was as loud as an explosion.

And then came the silence, that awful silence as the car idled peacefully and Tracy fought to understand what had happened. The wild staccato that pounded her ears was the sound of a heart gone crazy with terror.

Park it where it won’t get hit.

Ty’s grim instruction came back to her like a klaxon alarm of imminent doom.