Give Me Tonight(34)

Addie dipped her bare toes in the stream, relishing the coolness of the rushing water. The hem of her skirt was getting damp, but prudently she tried to keep as much of her legs covered as possible. "Shame on you," she said, casting a wicked glance at Jeff. "I'd swear I just caught you looking at my ankles. "

"You have beautiful ankles. The most beautiful I've ever seen." He slid his arm around her shoulders and turned her to face him. A hot kiss was pressed into the hollow of her throat, causing her to squirm in pro­test. "And the most beautiful toes, and heels-"

"Oh, stop it." Addie giggled and twisted away from him. "And don't hold me so tight. It's too hot."

Jeff loosened his arms, scowling in a way that made her want to laugh. She was fond of him, but at times he tried her patience sorely.

Addie had learned to treat Jeff with the same kind of affectionate mockery she used for Cade. She'd hoped to cool Jeff down, guessing that his feeling for her was not the love of a mature man for a woman but a boy's perverse love for something he knew was be­yond his reach. Unfortunately her efforts to put distance between them were only making him want her more.

There were moments when she was charmed by him, moments when he was boyish and sweet, and almost embarrassed by his own gentleness with her. It was then that she was happiest in his company. She needed a friend, and he was the closest thing to a confidant she had.

As to the physical side of their relationship, it wasn't difficult to handle him. She had no desire to make love with him, and when he" tried to coerce her into it, she set him back with a coolness that infuriated him. It wasn't that Jeff didn't attract her. But Addie didn't want real intimacy with him. Something warned her that it would be a terrible mistake, and an instinct that strong must be obeyed.

There was an arrogant side of Jeff that bothered Ad­die. He liked to boast about his family's money and his father's influence, and she believed a man should stand on his own two feet, not ride on someone else's coattails. And Jeff seemed so ridiculously young when he swaggered. Like a child, he was demanding and relentless about what he wanted, and he sulked if he didn't get his way.

It was amazing, the difference between Jeff and Ben Hunter. They were complete opposites. Jeff was boy­ish, outspoken, easy to understand. Ben was a man no woman could ever hope to understand, more complex than any man she'd ever met. In a subtle way he seemed removed from everyone, even while he was arguing with Russell, charming May and Caro, or ex­changing tall tales with the ranch hands. He seemed to be fond of Russell, but it was clear Ben didn't need anyone. What had happened to make him so indepen­dent? Was there anyone he really cared about?

What a mystery he was, attractive and repellent, charming and cold, gentle and harsh. In her heart of hearts she was afraid of him, not merely because of what he would do to Russell, but for an even deeper reason. He made her aware of herself as a woman in a way no one had before. He could do it with a look, a gesture . . . he cast some kind of spell over her merely by being in the same room. And the strangest thing was, she knew he didn't do it consciously. There was some kind of invisible current between them, and she didn't know how to explain it. How could you fight something you didn't understand?

"Adeline . . ." Jeff's wheedling voice broke into her thoughts. "Why are you so far away? Did I do somethin' to get your dander up?"

"Of course you didn't." She looked at him and smiled. "I'd tell you if you did something to make me mad."

"No, you wouldn't. Women don't tell stuff like that.

They like to turn all cold and quiet and make you guess what you did to get 'em mad."

"Most men have the most interesting theories about women. Women are helpless, women don't have much sense, women are neither honest nor straightforward, and really don't know their own minds anyway . . . honestly, I think one of you men should write a book. "

"Why would anyone want to write a book about that?"

Addie grinned. "For future generations. So some girl can read it someday and understand how much better off she is than poor old Grandma at her age. "

"No man'll ever understand women enough to write a book about ' em. "

"You know, women have their own theories about men."

"Like . . . men are stronger, smarter, and make more sense—"

"No, those are men's theories about themselves. Er­roneous, for the most part."

"Erro . . . ?"

"Wrong. Men don't know the first thing about them­selves. They always manage to hide the things that are the most attractive about themselves, by thinking they have to act like Don Juan or Valentino."

"Like Valen . . . ?"

"But a woman doesn't want a man who's as slick as that. And she doesn't want someone who's going to treat her like she's a steer to be rounded up and roped and busted."

Jeff grinned at that. "How else you gonna treat a woman when she gets ornery?"

"With understanding," Addie said, and settled down on the ground, leaning on one elbow. "With tenderness. But most men aren't strong enough to be gentle. And they're not strong enough to love someone without breaking her spirit. A man likes to make his woman into a reflection of himself. Impossible here to find a man who would let his woman be a separate person as well as his wife."