Page 109 of Texas Honor

She sat up, blinking. “I don’t understand.”

“I got Becky for you,” he said. “Is this what you’ve thought up to reward me? The sacrifice of your body?”

“Gabriel!” she cried, horrified. “It’s never been that! Surely you know better!”

“Do I?” He took off his hat and gloves and threw them onto a chair, running an angry hand through his hair. “I need a shower, and some rest.” He glanced toward her coldly. “Thanks for the offer, but you’re more than welcome. Becky’s mine, too, now. I don’t need gratitude from you.”

He went into the bathroom and locked the door, leaving Maggie shocked and speechless. For a long time she heard nothing but the sound of running water, as she sat quietly on the bed, her mind whirling with unexpected thoughts. Did he really think that she’d sold herself to him, just to enlist his aid in keeping Becky? Apparently he did. Then she remembered what she’d said in court. “Becky’s mine.” When in fact, Becky was theirs....

She got up and paced the floor, puzzling out what to do, how to convince him. She remembered so many little things, then. His anger on her behalf in court, the careful way he put her feelings first, his gentleness in bed. Maybe he didn’t know it, but he’d come to care for her. He had to care: why else would her careless remark have had the power to hurt him? And he thought...he thought she was only using him! It was almost comical, when she was dying of love for him!

But how to convince him of that? She paced some more. The water stopped running. She had only a few seconds left. If she let that cold wall come down between them, she might never be able to get it up again. Gabriel wasn’t an easy man to convince.

And then she found the perfect way. The best way. The most loving way. With a tender smile, she went to her jewelry box and took out a small round pillbox. Clutching it in her hand, she turned to face him when he came out of the bathroom with a towel draped around his hips.

His hair was still damp and mussed, falling onto his brow. His face was dark and hard and formidable. When he glared at her, she saw the old Gabe, the intimidating stranger she remembered from her adolescence, the cold man who never seemed to smile. He looked utterly ruthless but she wasn’t backing down. She had her spirit back, now that the fear was gone. And he wasn’t winning this time.

She held out her hand. “Do you know what these are?” she asked quietly.

He cocked his head a little, his eyes narrowing. “They’re your birth control pills.”

“That’s right.”

She went to the trash can and, holding his gaze levelly, dropped them into it.

There,she thought to herself with a primitive kind of triumph.See if that ties in with your theory, big man.

CHAPTER TEN

GABEDIDN’TSEEMable to breathe properly after she’d thrown the pills away. He stood rigidly, watching her.

“What was that all about?” he asked, his tone curt. “Is that some other way of showing your gratitude, telling me that you want my children? Well, you don’t have to go that far. You’re welcome, is that enough?”

She hesitated, and while she was hesitating, he whipped off the towel and turned to the mirror to blow-dry his hair. He saw her watching him, but he didn’t seem to mind.

Her eyes adored him. He was so good to look at. All muscle. All man. She smiled as her possessive gaze traveled from his dryer-blown black hair down to his very shapely masculine feet.

“Take a picture,” he muttered, because her look was bothering him. He wished he hadn’t taken off the towel. She was going to get a real eyeful in a minute.

She already had, in fact, and her lips pursed in frankly amused delight. “Well, well,” she said, folding her arms across her chest, “and I thought you weren’t interested.”

He glared at her. “Stop that. Women aren’t supposed to notice such things.”

She grinned. “Then put your clothes back on.”

“I’m getting ready for bed.” He put down the hair dryer and reached for a comb.

“So I noticed,” she commented dryly.

He slammed down the comb and jerked a pair of pajama bottoms out of his drawer. Pulling them on with an economy of movement, he snapped them up with a violent flick of his fingers.

“Prude,” she said softly.

He glared at her. “What in hell’s gotten into you?”

She moved toward him with a sinuous grace, watching the way his eyes were drawn to her breasts, which were already taut and hard-peaked. The material was so sheer that with the light behind her, he could see right through it. “I want you,” she said, smiling demurely. “Doesn’t it show?”

“Well, I don’t want you,” he shot back. “Not this way.”

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