Heaven, Texas (Chicago Stars #2)(95)

“That’s enough! I don’t care to hear another word out of you. Just shut up about this, you hear?”

Everything inside her went still. “Don’t talk to me like that.”

He lowered his voice, speaking quietly and with absolute conviction. “I’ll talk to you any way I want.”

Gracie was furious. She’d promised herself she’d love him with all her heart, but handing over her soul hadn’t been part of the deal. She deliberately turned her back on him and walked away.

He followed her into the living room. “Just where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m going to bed.” She snatched up her purse from the coffee table.

“Fine. I’ll be in with you when I’m ready.”

She nearly choked. “Do you really think I want to sleep with you right now?” She headed toward the back door and her apartment.

“Don’t you dare walk out of here!”

“This is going to be hard for you to understand, Bobby Tom, so listen very carefully.” She stopped walking. “Despite what everybody’s been telling you from the moment you were born, you’re not always irresistible.”



Bobby Tom stood at the back window and watched her stalk across the yard, although why he gave a damn whether or not she made it to her apartment safely, he didn’t know. She’d stepped way over the line tonight, and if he hadn’t let her understand straight out that he wasn’t going to put up with it, he’d never have another moment’s peace with her.

As she entered her apartment, he turned away from the window, resentment churning inside him. The phone started ringing again, his answering machine clicked on, and Gracie’s voice invited the caller to leave a message.

“Bobby Tom, this is Odette Downey. Would you mind doin’ me a big favor and seein’ if you could get hold of Dolly Parton and ask her if she’d donate one of her wigs to our celebrity auction? We know people’d bid big on that wig, and—”

He pulled the telephone from the wall and threw it across the office.

Gracie knew how much he cared about his mother! She had to understand the emotions that had gone through him this afternoon when he’d seen her walking down those stairs with Way Sawyer. He grabbed a cigar from the humidor he kept on top of his desk, bit off the end, and spit it into the ashtray. He still didn’t know which bothered him the most, the fact that his mom was seeing Sawyer or the fact that she hadn’t told him about it. His chest tightened. After the way she’d loved his dad, how could she let Sawyer near her?

Once again, he turned his anger onto Gracie. All his life he’d played sports, and the idea of being loyal to your teammates was as much a part of him as his name. Gracie, on the other hand, had proved tonight that she didn’t know the meaning of the word.

He snapped off the heads of two matches before he finally got his cigar lit. As he took short, angry puffs, he decided this was exactly what he deserved for letting her worm her way into his life. He’d known from the beginning how dictatorial she was, but he’d still kept her around and let her slither under his skin like a damn little chigger. Well, he sure as hell wasn’t going to sit here all night and brood about it. Instead, he intended to settle down and get some work done.

Clamping the cigar in the corner of his mouth, he picked up a pile of papers and gazed down at the top sheet, but he might as well have been staring at Chinese. The house felt cold and silent without her. He set the cigar in the ashtray, then tapped the edges of the papers and moved them closer to the center of the desk. As the quiet of the empty house tightened around him, he realized how accustomed he’d become to having her around. He liked hearing the murmur of her voice coming from another room as she returned his calls or phoned one of the old people at that nursing home in New Grundy. He liked the way he’d sometimes wander into the living room and find her curled up in one of the ruffly chairs by the window reading a book. He even enjoyed sneaking around behind her back to pour out that awful coffee she made and fix a fresh pot without her knowing it.

Abandoning the papers in front of him, he rose and went into the bedroom, but as soon as he stepped inside, he knew it was a mistake. The room held her scent, that elusive fragrance that sometimes reminded him of spring flowers and other times made him think of summer afternoons and ripe peaches. Gracie seemed to be part of all the seasons. The warm glints of autumn shone in her hair, the clear light of winter sun sparkled in those intelligent gray eyes. He had to keep reminding himself that she wasn’t a U.S.D.A. prime-cut female because lately he’d had a tendency to forget. It was just…

She was so damned cute.

He saw a scrap of blue lace lying on the carpet next to the side of the bed where she’d slept last night and leaned over to pick it up. A jolt of heat shot straight to his groin as he recognized her panties. He crushed the wisp of fabric in his fist and fought the urge to charge across the yard into her apartment, strip her naked, and bury himself inside her, right where he belonged.

With the novelty of initiating a virgin worn off, he should be starting to lose interest in the sexual side of their relationship, but he kept thinking up new things he wanted to show her, plus he hadn’t nearly got tired of practicing all the old stuff. He loved the way she clung to him and those soft little sounds she made; he loved her curiosity and her energy, how he could embarrass her without half trying and, dammit, how she sometimes embarrassed him with her insatiable nosiness about his body.