Billy Bob Walker Got Married (18 page)

"Then come and socialize with
me."
His voice had a teasing, husky drawl in it as he leaned toward her a little.

"Somebody—would see us."

"So what? Is it gonna ruin you to dance with me?" The edge of frustration cut into his words.

"If Sam found out, he'd make a terrible scene."

"He did once before and you survived."

He was too close to her, leaning in toward her, his face intense. She could feel the heat from his body, the dampness that rose from their clothes.

She pulled away, looked away.

"I can't. And I've got to go. The ring—"

He sat back in the seat, beating down temper. Then he picked up the ring that hung against him.

"It's got your name inside it," he told her calmly.

"I know."

"If anybody saw this—if I showed it to them—there'd be more trouble than any dance could stir up." She straightened instantly.

"Give it to me," she demanded, and her hand snatched at it.

But Billy caught her arm, his eyes bright and gleaming. "Uh-huh. If you want it, Shiloh, work for it." "You can't—"

"I'll be at the Legion Hall this Friday night. You want this?" He held it up in his clenched fist, the chain spilling like a delicate thread of lace across his rough, bare knuckles.

Then Billy leaned closer, his face nearly touching hers. "You want the ring, then you come and get it."

₉

Okay.
She'd had enough.

Sam pushed her around and didn't listen. Michael intimidated her.

Now here was Billy Bob, pulling at her for something. Manipulating her.

And he was good at it, too.

Just this Friday afternoon, he'd come back in the bank again, his shirt opened far enough down the front that Susan had nearly fallen out of the teller's window trying to see clear to his navel. The gold chain had sparkled like danger against his brown skin.

The devil had lazed past Shiloh's desk, one thumb hooked in a belt loop, his cap pushed back on his head, eyeing her.

Daring her.

Urging her.

She didn't know what Billy was up to. Maybe he flirted with her because she was there, and had drawn his attention to her over the past few weeks. But he had been mad half the time they'd been together. If these were his techniques, they left a lot to be desired.

And they stirred a glimmering rebellion down inside her.

She was tired of doing what she was told; she was tired of being told, in fact. She was tired of doing what she should.

If half the women in town could gawk at Billy Bob, then she could dance with him.

By the time she was through with him tonight, she'd have her ring and he'd have a piece of her mind.

It wasn't until she got to the Legion Hall that she began to have second thoughts.

It was ten minutes past ten o'clock when she finally stepped up on the edge of the shadowy porch.

Late. His expectant heart had been nearly sick with worry that she wouldn't show up, again. But here she stood in jeans, white tennis shoes, and a faded rose-red top.

Her hair was different—partially caught back on one side, curling more than it usually did because of the heat.

Beauty stood there, right on the edge of the porch lights, looking for him. Her eyes were searching the crowd that danced just inside the wide open doors.

He pulled in his breath and straightened off the hard brick wall.

"Looking for somebody?"

She jumped a little, startled by his voice as it came out of the shadows. Then she answered, her voice only a little shaky, "Maybe. And you—are you waiting for somebody?"

His cap was gone, she thought fleetingly, and its absence meant that the light hit his strong profile and his blond hair brightly.

"Maybe," he repeated teasingly. "There's just one problem. If my wife hears about this, we're dead."

"Oh, her. I've heard she's a saint of a woman."

"Yeah? And what does that make me?"

"Nothing short of the devil. You bribe and blackmail people to get your way."

His grin faded. "It's only a dance, Shiloh. It won't kill you."

"You could just give me back my—" "No. That way is no fun." "And this way is?"

"Wait and see." He reached out, caught her hand. "Come on, and try to smile. You used to laugh all the time."

Pulling her through the edge of the crowd, he gave her no chance to answer until they came to the nearest corner. Shiloh kept her head turned away; sooner or later, somebody would know her, and she'd rather it be later.

Billy twisted, then held out his other arm for her to step into. She hesitated, half-afraid of the proximity, half-afraid of him.

"I haven't danced like this in a long time. Maybe I won't remember how."

"Since how long?"

"Since I was eighteen and fool enough to try to do everything you did," Shiloh retorted unevenly.

"Good. That's real good. But don't worry. It'll come back to you."

He made that tiny motion with his hand again; still she stalled. "Billy, somebody's going to recognize me here."

"How could they? Most don't know you, especially not dressed the way you are now. You never step out of Sam's shadow."

"Somebody will. Then we're in big trouble." "Who is? Not me. You, only if you let yourself be. One dance, Shiloh." "Then what?"

"Then . . . we can go somewhere else."

And that was no comfort at all, she thought, but she went when his arm reached out to haul her into his long body.

There wasn't a whole lot of provocation in the Texas two-step, not if you were doing it with a regular Joe.

But every time Billy bumped against her, every time her face came near enough his chest to feel the beating of his heart, it meant something to Shiloh, reminding her of nights she'd lain against him.

And the way he smelled—she'd forgotten how his very scent could twist her up in knots.

Out of the blue, she wished suddenly that she'd kissed him longer in front of the judge. Did he taste the same?

His arms around her were strong as iron manacles; she could feel his fingers wrapping her side, as hard and determined as they had been when he held her face for his own kiss.

She had come tonight to tease and tantalize, but maybe she should leave as quickly as possible, as soon as she had the ring.

Before the thought barely materialized, the music changed, and the band slid into a slow, aching song. The lights above them went out, until the only thing lighting the hall were big lanterns that burned as decorations in the corners and on the refreshment table.

There was one behind Billy, turning him into a gold-edged silhouette, lighting only the side of his face.

Over the microphone, over the music, came the drawling, gentle voice of an old gray man who held his fiddle at rest for a moment. "This one's for all the sweethearts out there tonight. Slow and easy, and all you have to do is hold on real tight." Then he lifted the fiddle to his shoulder and began to pull the bow across the strings in sweet, piercing, slow strokes.

Shiloh stumbled, then tried to back away. Billy stopped her.

"One dance, you said," she whispered, finding his face in the shadows of the dusky room.

"Until the music stops," he corrected. "Don't be afraid, Shiloh. I'm not gonna hurt you."

His face was so quiet, his long eyes so watchful, his voice so calm, so certain.

It had been so long since she'd let Billy—this Billy, the one she trusted—wrap her up completely and hold her against him. Unafraid of anything. Certain of love.

There'd be no room for even one evil memory of Michael in Billy's arms.

No place for Sam, either.

And after tonight, never again. No excuses left for Shiloh to come to Billy after tonight.

Something in her face changed; her body relaxed. And without another word, he pulled her close.

Here in this warm darkness, nothing mattered. Not who he was, not who she was, not what they'd done.

This one moment was what heaven would be like—no past, no future, just an immediate, choking, unbearable sweetness.

She knew, just barely, when his right arm came up, his hand grasping her skull compulsively, his calloused fingers tangling in her hair as he pressed her hot face against him, bent his own bright head over her dark one. It didn't matter.

It would tomorrow, but not now.

Nothing mattered, not while the fiddle pulled them through the song, not while it shivered and cried and moaned.

And when the music faded into nothing, life stopped.

With a gasp for oxygen, Shiloh came off his chest and pushed away. She had to get out. Now.

Quick, before the lights came on, and she had to face him. It was better to be a coward and run.

In and out of the crowd, along the edge, to the doors.

Across the floor, Billy Bob came to his senses. She wouldn't get away, not tonight. Not after that dance. He had been holding the Shiloh who had once begged him to make love to her: that was the only truth he could understand at the moment.

The lights brightened and applause from the dancers went up as he shoved his way after her, taking the faster, direct path that she'd avoided. He couldn't see much or think clearly; his whole body was on fire with the way she had touched him. But he caught a glimpse of her as she reached the doors and ran out into the night.

Once outside he scanned the parking lot under the purple security light.

Trucks, and more trucks. A few cars.

To his right, a car door opened. An interior light flashed on, and he saw the rose-red of her shirt as she got in.

He leaped two vehicles, catching himself with his open-palmed hand on their hoods as he catapulted over them, running until he was close enough to yank open her passenger door as she tried to pull out from the parking space.

Shiloh gave a small scream as he threw himself in beside her. Then he reached for the ignition switch, turned off the engine, and yanked the keys away.

"Are you crazy?" she gasped, and she made a futile grab for the keys.

He pulled them back, breathing hard.

"Give me those keys."

"No, ma'am. And if you keep yanking at 'em, I'm gonna toss them across this parking lot." "No, don't. I'll quit."

They sat in a pounding silence another moment before he asked harshly, "Why'd you run?"

He heard her shuddery breath, saw the way she grasped the wheel. "I gave you your dance. That's all I was supposed to do. I only did what I had to do to get the ring back. And since you're here, I want it." She thrust her chin up aggressively.

"Shiloh, look at me."

"Will you stop ordering me around?"

His hand shot out, grasped her chin, turned her stiff jaw until she had to face him.

"You did all that stuff in there just to get this back?" he asked disbelievingly, grasping the chain and the ring through the shirt, all in one crumpled hold.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

His arms reached for her, his hands catching her by the shoulders as he pulled her toward him angrily. "The hell you don't. You had your face against me, you had your arms around me, and you didn't want to turn loose. I
know,
Shiloh, because I didn't want to, either."

She was shaking in his hands, but she stayed stubbornly silent.

"If that's the truth, you look me in the face and swear it. Tell me that you touched me like that just for this damned ring."

His passionate face, his hands straining against her— they forced her to look up, to open her mouth.

"Tell me. After all these years, tell me you've changed that much. That I couldn't feel what was in you. Was it for the ring?"

"I—please, Billy—"

"Shiloh."

"No.
No.
" The word shook, her throat catching on it. "Now—-are you satisfied? Leave me alone!"

"No, I'm not satisfied. Not yet. But—"

She knew what he was going to do even before he moved; she shut her eyes for the inevitable.

Kissing Billy Bob was like falling, plunging, spiraling off some great height. Her heart shot up in her throat, she felt dizzy. And she was weightless, buoyant, exuberantly free.

But there was danger, ft gave this flight a piquancy, and it terrified her out of her mind. It was too easy to crash.

She grabbed at him to stop herself from burning to death in her fiery freefall to earth, and he pulled her up to him, so tightly they were sealed together.

And still the kiss scorched and burned.

When he finally slid away from her lips, she was crying, tears so quiet he didn't know they were there until they wet the hollow of his throat where he pushed her face while he sucked in his breath harshly.

"What are you crying about?" he got out at last. "I said I wouldn't hurt you, and I didn't, did I?" She shook her head. "What, then?"

She pulled away, and he let her go. The car was hot, even with the windows down. Both of them were wet with perspiration. If he hadn't wanted to hold her so much, it would have been a relief when she moved, a break in the heat.

"So now we've—we've started this again," she whispered shakily, wiping her wet cheeks with the palms of her hands. "What good does it do us?"

"What good—"

"I mean, I can't trust you. You're with a girl every time I turn around. Or in a fight over one."

He had to breathe, so he reached for the door handle and unfolded himself from the car. It was cooler here, directly in the night air, but nothing could cool his emotions. She'd always done this to him, dammit.

"So it should end here, tonight, before—"

"Before
what?
Before you actually let yourself feel something for me again, if you ever did?" He turned violently, resting his arms on the top of the car. "Let me ask you something, honey. Where do you get off thinking you're so perfect yourself?"

After a long moment's pause, Shiloh opened her door and climbed out, and when she shut it behind her, turned to face him.

"All I've heard about is what I've done," he said savagely. "About how—how cheap my kisses and my body are. Well, what about you?"

"I haven't—"

"I didn't kiss you because of ... of things, Shiloh. It was in spite of 'em. In spite of the things your daddy said to me—and you let him. Hell, you took his side and went with him. In spite of my brother. I know what you did, Shiloh. You let him take my place. He's me, but different. He's the easy way. And in spite of your money that lets you buy other people's self-respect. But that one's my fault. I could'a said no."

His breath was coming in such jerks it was tearing him apart. He pulled away from the car, shuddering. He meant to walk away before she killed him.

"Billy—"

He turned back toward her, his hair as it brushed thickly back from his face and curled along his collar nearly white in the light of the security lamp, his eyes black.