City Girl (20 page)

The depression that settled upon Crystal proved to be stubborn. She felt like two people, each pulled in a separate direction, and neither of them the real her. She loved Garrett. Until the moment the door had closed on his back, she had not realized how much she had wanted him to stay. But then there was the other side of her that desired nothing whatsoever to do with Garrett Dean. He could never return her feelings because he had her confused with his late wife. Everything he did seemed to point out that fact. From the very beginning he had set about criticizing and reforming her. He told her what she could wear and what she could not, insisted that she perform and conform to his standards, even decided who her friends would, or, more importantly, would not be. It seemed that he was trying to make her over, to make her into that love he had lost. All because of a quirk of fate, a physical resemblance to a dead woman.

Well, she would not be molded for any man's pleasure. Jerry had tried that. He had wanted from her what she could not give under the circumstances, and when she had refused to be changed, he had turned to another woman. Wouldn't Garrett do the same thing eventually? Wouldn't he one day realize that she would never be the woman he wanted her to be, and then turn to another woman? She could not allow that to happen to her again. She would not.

To add to her gloom, it began to rain, and kept it up for days. Her only outlet had been the pool, and now she could not even enjoy that.

She hardly dared venture from her room except for her morning classes with the children. The rain kept the cowboys off the range, except for small groups sent out periodically to check on the herds. Garrett was too much around the house for her comfort.

She had already run into him on several occasions. Once, she had left her room and bumped into him in the hallway. He was just coming in off the range. His boots and pants legs were wet up to the knees. Water ran in little rivulets off his droopy hat, splashing on the soaked slicker he wore poncho fashion over his damp clothing. She had hurried away, leaving him standing there dripping water on the floor and scowling after her.

The game room became a popular place, an outlet from the weather-enforced boredom that plagued the wranglers as well as herself. Crystal would hear them when she dared to venture out into the house, laughing and playing pool. She felt very much an outsider, for though Gloria occasionally joined them in a game of pool, Crystal herself was unwelcome. Garrett had declared her off-limits.

About the only pastime left to her was reading, and she made occasional forays into the library during the afternoons to garner reading material. She had found that among the books on ranching and animal husbandry and crop rotation were some fine classics and modern novels. It was the type of literature she would not have expected to find on Garrett's shelves, but most of them bore his name scribbled upon the fly pages, and she could only assume that he had chosen to read them himself.

It was on one of these forays that she had her next encounter with Garrett—and next made a fool of herself. Rick was actually the catalyst, but she realized later that it was her own stubborn, foolhardy self that had caused the problem.

She was scouring the shelves for something interesting to occupy her mind when she heard the door to the library open and turned to find Rick watching her.

"Oh, hello," she said, surprised that he had come to the room. "Are you looking for a good book?" she asked.

"No, I'm looking for a date, as a matter of fact," he announced with a grin.

It did not hit Crystal immediately that he was talking about her.

"Friends can go out on friendly dates, can't they?" he asked, a teasing gleam in his playful eyes.

"Well, I guess so," Crystal hedged, and to show her disinterest, she turned back to peruse the shelf of books behind her.

"Okay, then, how about if I take you to the dance on Saturday night?"

With a stab of irritation Crystal turned back to level a steady gaze at him. Hadn't they settled this already? She had thought to make it perfectly clear that she had no real interest in him—or any man, for that matter.

"Oh, I don't think that would be such a good idea, Rick. I mean, I don't think Garrett would like it, and he is the boss."

"To heck with Garrett," Rick pronounced recklessly. He crossed to one of the leather-upholstered couches and flopped down upon it, dangling one long, thin leg over the rolled arm. "Garrett doesn't decide my personal life."

Crystal pretended to be absorbed in a particular book that she had taken down from the shelf, hoping that he would just go away.

"Frankly," he said then, eyeing her speculatively, "I'm a little surprised at you, letting him get away with putting you off-limits. What's the deal, Crystal? You sweet on the big man?"

Crystal closed the book with a snap and glared at Rick. "Maybe I just prefer to be off-limits, as you put it. Maybe I just don't have time for men and their little games!"

She stalked toward the door, but Rick was on his feet in a flash. "Hey, wait a minute! I didn't mean anything. It's just… I want you to go to the dance with me, that's all."

She halted in mid-stride, counted to ten, and turned calmly toward him.

He grinned sheepishly and cocked his head. "Come on," he cajoled. "Wouldn't you like to go to the dance? I mean, all you ever do is hole up in here and in that room of yours." It seemed to her that genuine concern showed on his face, and she softened her attitude a bit.

"You need to get out," he went on pleadingly. "Now, who else around here can you trust but me?" He hooked his thumbs in the front of his shirt and preened about like a banty rooster, a beguiling smile flickering at his lips.

Crystal laughed. He was amusing. Nevertheless, she had no intentions of going to that dance with him.

"Come on," he wheedled. "Come to the dance with me."

"I've already invited the lady to the dance, Benson," boomed Garrett's resonant voice.

Crystal whirled around. Garrett was leaning in the doorway, pool cue and chalk in hand, carefully tending the tip of his cue. He lifted those curiously dark lashes and peered at her, daring her to reveal his lie. For a moment she considered doing just that, but then she decided to play along with his game, only using her rules.

"And I've already turned down your invitation," she lied sweetly, eyes flashing defiantly.

Something wild and dangerous flickered behind those placid blue eyes of his, but his face was a carefully controlled mask of unconcern. He shrugged. "Guess that leaves us both out, Benson," he said coolly, but flashed a look of triumph at Crystal that set her blood to boiling.

She wouldn't let him get away with this. He had controlled virtually every aspect of her life since she had first accepted his impossible job, and enough was enough. He might as well find out who the real Crystal Gentry was—and right now!

Drawing herself up regally, Crystal folded her hands together and turned slowly, gracefully to Rick. "Actually," she said graciously, "I was just about to say that I would very much like to accompany you to the dance on Saturday night, Mr. Benson."

Rick blanched white. His eyes went immediately to Garrett, lounging like a lion about to pounce in the doorway. For a wild moment Crystal felt certain that he was going to back out. Frantically she put on her best smile and—like an idiot—battered her eyelashes at him!

Swallowing raggedly, Rick nodded and attempted a smile. "Oh, great," he replied weakly, and Crystal leaped into the tight silence that followed.

"Now, when would you like to pick me up? Would eight be too late? Oh, this is going to be such fun. I've never been to a country dance, you know."

She went on babbling for several seconds, while Rick darted glances at her and a glowering, silent Garrett. Finally she shut up long enough for him to mutter, "Better make it nine. Music doesn't start till ten."

Crystal nodded mutely, eyes downcast, feeling the daggers being flung at her back by Garrett's penetrating glare. Already she regretted what she had done.

She stood there, holding her breath, waiting for the two of them to withdraw and leave her to properly chastise herself. Rick slunk by her, mumbling that he would see her Saturday, and disappeared from her sight. She could feel Garrett's presence, and hoped fervently that he would go away without making a scene. Finally she realized that he was not going to leave until she confronted him. So, plucking up her courage, she whirled to face him. Their eyes clashed challengingly.

"I hope you know what a foolish, reckless thing you've just done," he remarked simply, and turned and walked away.

The rain stopped. The sun came out in full force, and it was even hotter than before. Crystal continued to keep to herself. She dreaded Saturday to the point of almost hoping she would be taken ill and thus have a legitimate excuse for not keeping her date with Rick. She skipped meals, simply to avoid a chance run-in with Garrett. Because of this, Lupe developed the habit of dropping by her room at odd hours with a tray of food. The rotund cook firmly believed in the gospel of three square meals a day, and no one under her charge dared to lose a pound.

Saturday came all too quickly. As usual, Crystal spent most of the day in her room, pointedly avoiding the rest of the household. In spite of this self-inflicted boredom, the morning quickly dissolved into afternoon. She found herself nursing a slight headache that she half-hoped would turn into the flu.

When a sharp rap sounded at her door, Crystal was not particularly alarmed, as she supposed it was probably Lupe coming to scold her for haying missed lunch. Garrett seemed to be keeping his distance lately, and she did not really think he would come to her room again.

She was sitting at the vanity painting her nails. Calling out for the visitor to come in, she capped the bottle of cool coral polish and blew on her wet nails.

It was Gloria, costumed in her customary blue jeans and a provocative off-the-shoulder blouse with an elasticized neckline. She opened the door and stood glaring at a most surprised Crystal for several seconds before stepping in and closing the door behind her firmly. "I want to talk to you," she said, her pretty face straining with dislike and resentment.

Crystal squelched the desire to order the girl out and merely shrugged, continuing to blow on her damp nails. "I don't think we have anything to talk about, Gloria, but I don't want to argue with you. You might as well say what's on your mind."

The girl sashayed across the room. Halting at the foot of the big rosewood bed, she ran a hand over the corner post. "You going to the dance?"

"What's that to you?" Crystal asked, folding her hands together carefully so as not to smudge the fresh polish.

"Garrett asked you to go with him. Why didn't you accept?"

Crystal sighed and pressed a hand to her head, which suddenly throbbed with pain. "Gloria, I really don't think that is any of your business. Who I go out with is my affair, and I think it's time people around here understood that." She pushed back the vanity chair and stood up. "Now, would you mind leaving, please?"

Gloria tilted her dark head proudly, rosy red lips turning down at the corners. "Are you going to the dance?" she persisted.

Crystal balled her fingers into her palms, thoroughly ruining her nails. "Yes!" she snapped impatiently. "Yes, I am going to the dance, but
not
with Garrett! Now, if you are through prying into my personal life, would you kindly get out?"

The girl tossed her head, whipping her long braid around like a tail, and stalked to the door. "You will not get him!" she declared firmly. "Do you hear me, Crystal Gentry? I will not step aside and give you a clear field!"

Crystal squeezed her eyes shut as a small pain pierced her skull. "Gloria," she sighed, "I don't care. Do you understand? I simply could not care less. Now…" She raised a hand and pointed to the door. "Would you kindly leave my room?"

"This is not your room!" the girl spat, throwing an angry glare at the peachy walls. "This is a ghost room. It does not belong to this house any more than you do!"

"I'm sure you are right about that," Crystal cried, her control quickly slipping away. "But if you don't get out of here, I am going to throw you out!"

Gloria clamped her lips together, eyes screaming resentment.

"Get out!" Crystal ordered summarily.

The girl whipped through the door, rudely leaving it standing open in her wake.

Aspirins did not seem to help, but a long, leisurely bath finally got rid of the nagging headache. Crystal was now determined to go through with her date. Gloria's little scene had convinced her that she should, if only to make certain people around here understand that she possessed a will of her own.

Reluctantly she began to ready herself for her date. Her nails had to be redone, and her hair needed washing and drying. There was a problem about what to wear, but in the end she decided that she might as well look as good as possible and chose an attractive royal-blue sheath with tiny spaghetti straps and a loose, sheer, flowing overdress of a muted floral pattern in blues and greens.

Tonight she would be the sophisticated city girl, and let them look down their noses at her if they chose. She applied her makeup carefully, not because she really cared to get it perfect, but because she had lots of time. She spread a soft shade of green over her eyelids, added moss-green eyeliner, then mascaraed her long lashes and curled them with an eyelash clamp.

Next she smoothed a coral-pink blushing cream over her honey-colored cheeks, adding delicate roses to highlight her fine facial structure. Her pretty valentine mouth was outlined with a lip pencil and shaded with a creamy coral lipstick. A stroke of transparent lip gloss added a sultry look to her mouth. The last touch was a generous dab of the French perfume Jerry had given her as a birthday present.

That done, she slipped into pantyhose with a chic pattern of tiny florets woven into the nylon at the ankles, the latest thing in sophisticated fashion circles. The dress she had chosen hugged her full-breasted figure suggestively. The overdress softened that effect somewhat but nipped in neatly at her tiny waist and flowed in silky, clingy swirls about her shapely hips. The elbow-length, kimono-style sleeves were unrestricting and sheer, lending a grace to her movements.