Page 14 of Texas Honor

He probably had a good reason for that attitude, but Mari wasn’t going to pry into his privacy by asking.

At least now she understood Aunt Lillian’s matchmaking frenzy. If the older woman had expected to die, she might also have worried about Mari’s future. But to try to give Mari to a man like the one beside her was almost criminal! The very thought of being tied to that ex-drill rigger made her blanche. He frightened her in a way no other man ever had. It wasn’t fear of brutality or even of rough behavior. It was fear of involvement, of being led on and dumped, the way Johnny Greenwood had teased her and taken her places, and then when she was drunk on loving him, he’d announced his engagement to someone else.

Ward Jessup wasn’t the man for marriage, but he wouldn’t mind amusing himself with a woman and then dropping her. He seemed to hate women, to be spoiling for revenge on the entire sex. She remembered him saying that he could only tolerate his grandmother and Lillian under his roof, and that said it all. She’d have to be very careful not to fall under his spell. Because he was just playing, and she didn’t even know the first thing about his game.

She went to her room as soon as they were back at Three Forks, and although she hated her vulnerability, she actually locked her bedroom door. Not that he’d try anything, she assured herself. But, just in case, a little precaution wouldn’t hurt.

The next morning she was awake at dawn. Rather than lie in bed and worry about Aunt Lillian, she got up, dressed in jeans and a yellow pullover and went to cook the beast’s breakfast.

She did love this house, indoor waterway and all. It seemed to catch and scatter light so that the darkest corner was bright and cheery. The kitchen reflected the rest of the house. It was spacious and cheerful and contained every modern appliance known to man.

She started the coffee maker and fried bacon. By the time the aroma of coffee was filling the kitchen, she had biscuits in the oven and was setting the big, elegant dining room table.

“What the hell are you doing that for?” Ward Jessup asked from the doorway. “I don’t mind eating in the kitchen.”

She jumped, turning in time to see him shrug into a chambray shirt. His chest was...incredible. She couldn’t help but stare. Despite her age and her exposure to men at the garage where she worked, she’d never in her life seen anything like Ward Jessup without his shirt. Talk about masculine perfection! His chest was as tanned as his face. Broad, rippling with muscle, tapering to his belt, it had a perfect wedge of dark, thick hair that made Mari’s jaw drop.

“Close your mouth, honey, you’ll catch flies that way,” he said, then chuckled, torn between exasperation and honest flattery at her rapt and explicit stare.

She turned back to her table setting with trembling fingers, hating her youth and inexperience, hating the big man who was making fun ot it. “Excuse me. I’m not used to men...half dressed like that.”

“Then you should have seen me ten minutes ago, sprout, before I got up. I sleep in the raw.”

Now Mari was sure she was blushing. She pursed her lips as she put silverware at their places.

He came up behind her so that she could feel the heat of his big body and took her gently by the shoulders. “That wasn’t fair, was it?” he murmured.

“No,” she agreed, “considering what a beautiful breakfast I just fixed you.”

His lips tugged into a smile. “Do I smell bacon?”

“And biscuits and an omelette and hash brown potatoes and hot coffee,” she continued, glancing up at him.

“Then what are you standing here for?” he asked. “Feed me!”

She was rapidly becoming convinced that his appetite was the great love of his life. Food could stop his temper dead, keep him from teasing and prevent homicide, as that apple pie had done after she’d knocked him into the water. It was useful to have such a weapon, when dealing with such a formidable enemy, she thought as she went to put the platters on the table.

He ate without talking, and he didn’t sit and read a newspaper, as her father always had done in her youth. She watched him curiously.

His eyebrows shot up. “Something bothering you?”

“Not really.” She laughed self-consciously. “It’s just that the only man I’ve ever had breakfast with was my father, and he read his paper all through it.”

“I don’t read at the table,” he said. He finished his last mouthful of biscuit, washed it down with coffee and poured himself a second cup from the carafe. Then he sat back in his chair and stared straight into Mari’s eyes. “Why does my chest disturb you?”

She tingled from her head to her toes at the unexpected question and felt a wave of heat wash over her. Some old lines about fighting fire with fire shot into her mind. “Because it’s beautiful, in a purely masculine way,” she blurted out.

He pondered that for a minute before he smiled into his coffee. “You don’t lie well, do you?”

“I think it’s a waste of time,” she replied. She got to her feet. “If you’re through, I’ll clear the table.”

She started to pick up his plate. His big hand, and it was enormously big, caught her wrist and swallowed it, staying her beside him.

“Have you ever touched a man, except to shake hands?” he asked quietly.

“I’m not a shrinking violet,” she said, flustered. “I’m almost twenty-two years old, and I have been kissed a few times!”

“Not enough, and not by anyone who knew how.” He pulled her closer, feeling her resistance, but he stopped short of dragging her down onto his lap. “Why are you afraid of me?”

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