People Will Talk (11 page)

A crowd of onlookers had gathered in a
semicircle behind Richard, their faces avid and shocked. Nora
looked from one face to another, hoping to find one sane individual
in the bunch. How could anyone who knew her believe these things
about her?

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight
of Mrs. Turner in the crowd. The woman's face was
unreadable.

"I was totally faithful to you," she cried in
frustration, feeling as if her dream of owning the Turner property
was slipping through her fingers as she spoke.

"Yeah," he said scornfully. "Right up to when I
found my boss with his hand up your dress."

An overwhelming sense of fury hit Nora. He
didn't want to hear her, didn't want to believe her. There wasn't
anything for her to say, nothing she could do to change this ugly,
rending moment.

More than anything else, she wanted to hit him,
to slap him silly, but one tiny sliver of sanity kept her from
adding violence to her already tarnished reputation.

"Does Maddock do you better than I did?"
Richard asked. "Doesn't he mind sharing you with other men? Or do
you do it with more than one at a time?"

"What I do is no longer any of your business,"
she said in a hard voice. As she faced him, her body bracing to do
battle, the crowd behind Richard seemed to shift and then
split.

Bret strode forward, his tall, lean figure
purposeful. Nora could hardly stifle the cry in her throat. Her
hand lifted toward him as he crossed to her side.

******

Chapter Six

Bret's arm circled her shoulder, his face like
granite as he met Richard's glare. "If you've got something to say,
why don't we take it out to the parking lot?"

''I'm not afraid of a lowlife like you!"
Richard huffed.

"You're the kind of crap that gets on a man's
boots when he's not careful where he steps. Why don't you come on
outside and show me your morals?" taunted Bret.

Nora looked from one hostile male face to the
other. How had this gotten so out of control? Richard's accusations
made her furious, but she had to get out of this with some
dignity.

"No, Bret." She tugged at his arm as he took a
step toward Richard. "Let's just leave."

Bret stood unmoving for a moment, an expression
on his face she'd never seen before. Gone was the lighthearted man
who assaulted her better judgment at every opportunity. Nora could
almost feel the danger emanating from him. Bret's eyes never left
Richard's face. "He needs a lesson, honey."

She looked at Bret, her voice low,
"Please."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." She turned quickly toward the door,
struggling to hold herself together until she could get
away.

Bret followed her. She heard his bootsteps
behind her on the hard floor. Stopping as the door closed behind
them, she shivered in the chilly night air. Now she'd never
convince Mrs. Turner to sell her the land.

A furious hopelessness clogged her throat. Why
was Richard doing this? Why was he deliberately trying to hurt her?
Nora gulped back a sob as she stood motionless on the pavement,
only dimly aware of Bret's presence behind her.

In the front row of the crowded parking lot
Richard's red sports car straddled two parking spaces, as if he'd
felt entitled to take the extra room.

''I've got a pocketknife if you want to do his
tires," Bret offered as he stood next to her.

Nora burst into tears.

"Come on," Bret said roughly. "Let's get out of
here." He urged her toward his truck, a hand at the small of her
back as she continued to sob into her hands.

He opened the truck door for her, then slammed
it shut and walked around to the driver's side. In moments, they
were roaring out of the parking lot.

Wiping her face with trembling, angry fingers,
Nora wrestled her tears to a trickle. Bret drove in silence, the
night engulfing them. When she shivered, he switched on the heater,
sending a swirl of warmth around her legs.

Five minutes later, Bret turned off on a dirt
road Nora didn't recognize. 'When they were well out of sight of
the main highway, he turned into a drive that led to what looked
like a log cabin.

Nora looked over at him in surprise, her eyes
feeling hot from the tears.

"There's no way I'm taking you home to your
mother like this," Bret declared as he switched off the
headlights.

"Like what?" she whispered. She felt like a
baby.

Opening the truck door, Bret ignored her
question.

"What is this place?" She slid under the
steering wheel and got out, staring at the building while he shut
the door.

"My cabin. I built it myself. My living here
instead of at the ranch house gives me and my parents some privacy.
"

"Oh." She followed him up the walk. ''I'm
really okay now."

"No, you're not." He opened the door and
flipped on the lights. A leather couch and chairs sat on a woven
rug of indeterminate color. Besides a small kitchenette in the
corner, the only other feature of the room was a large screen
television.

"You want some coffee?" He shut the door behind
them.

"Thank you," she managed, his obvious concern
bringing her close to tears again.

Bret sat next to her on the couch. "Honey, I've
never known a woman with more reason to cry. Quit trying to hold it
in. I've got a perfectly good shoulder here. "

''I'm not crying," she snuffled.

"Come over here...” Tossing his hat on a nearby
chair, Bret reached out and took her in his arms.

''I'm not one of those women who cry all over
the place," she protested, sinking against him despite her
determination not to give in to her tears.

“
Just with me. Nowhere else. It's
all right, honey," Bret whispered against her temple as he held her
close.

Hot tears trickled down to drip from her chin.
Nora tried to stem the flow, her efforts nearly bringing on the
hiccups. Finally, she let the sobs come, embarrassed but unable to
stop.

Bret held her, his body rocking ever so gently.
He said nothing, didn't try to stop her or question her distress.
Nora drew in a shuddering breath, the knot in her stomach
loosening.

"I never expected him to be so nasty," she said
abruptly, grappling to understand Richard's assault. "I thought he
might refuse to talk to me—if only to please his mother—but
to...."

"You should have let me beat the bejesus out of
him," Bret said, his hand gentle as he brushed away a lingering
tear.

"That wouldn't have accomplished anything," she
dismissed the idea. "And you might have gotten hurt."

"Excuse me?" He sounded more amused than
insulted.

"I mean you might have hurt your hand or
something when you hit him," Nora clarified, letting herself relax
against him.

"It would've been worth it." His arms tightened
around her.

Nora shook her head slowly, a sense of
contentment starting to seep into her as she huddled in his arms.
"This whole thing is so bizarre. I've been over it again and again,
trying to figure out how I could have handled it differently. I had
no idea that Richard's boss would behave like that."

"What did he do, exactly?"

She glanced up at Bret, realizing she'd never
really talked to him about that pivotal night. "It was at Richard's
New Year's Eve party. He gave one every year. I'd had the food
catered but I was serving it myself."

"You and Richard lived together?" Bret
asked.

"Yes," she said. "His boss, Mr. Benson,
startled me in the kitchen that night. There were lots of people
there from Richard's office, bigwigs above Benson."

Nora leaned her head back against Bret's arm
where it rested on the back of the couch. "Of course, everyone was
drinking. But Benson seemed completely sober. He just walked up,
started kissing me and put his hands on my..." Her voice trailed
off and she struggled not to shudder as the memory of the moment
returned with shattering clarity.

"It's all right." Bret dropped a soft kiss on
the top of her head.

"I tried asking him to stop," she said,
fighting the feeling of nausea that rose at the memory. "But he
kept on saying I'd enjoy it, kept saying Richard wouldn't
mind."

Bret uttered a harsh expletive under his
breath. "I was so busy fighting him off, I didn't realize how loud
I'd gotten until someone pushed open the kitchen door and everyone
saw us." She did shudder then. "Richard went white."

"Probably from guilt," Bret said, his voice
hard.

Nora looked up at him in the soft lamplight.
"He was shocked. He told me so later."

"You don't think he had any idea that Benson
had the hots for you?" Skepticism radiated from Bret.

"Of course not." She stared at him in
puzzlement. It didn't make any sense that Richard would know and
not warn her. After all, it had been his career on the
line.

"Even if we give him the benefit of the doubt
and assume that he didn't knowingly let his boss put the moves on
you, Richard still comes out looking like a heel," declared
Bret.

Nora didn't respond, startled at the thought.
Had Richard known of Benson's intentions? It seemed so
incomprehensible. And yet, Richard had an uncanny insight into the
weaknesses of his opponents. Wouldn't that naturally extend to his
superiors as well?

The whole thing left her mind feeling muddled.
"I should have handled it differently." she said with
self-condemnation. "If I'd been more assertive, more determined,
Mr. Benson would have gotten the message without everyone having to
know."

"You're nuts," Bret said.

"I was so shocked I just started
squawking."

Bret shook her gently. "You've got to get the
blame pointed in the right direction. No woman should have to fight
off a man in her own kitchen."

"But-"

"Think," he recommended. "Did you deserve to be
attacked?"

"Of course not," she answered
slowly.

"Did you deserve the crap that Richard handed
you tonight?"

"No," Nora said definitely, fresh anger rising
in her.

"Then let's put the blame where it belongs.
Richard's a creep and you should have let me wipe the floor with
him."

Nora shook her head. "I don't care about him. I
just kept thinking about the riding school and how Mrs. Turner will
never sell the land to me now."

"You don't know that," he said, stroking his
hand down her arm. "Quit worrying about tomorrow and let's enjoy
tonight."

His words hovered in the air, foreign and
tempting at the same time. The shadowy cabin seemed warm and cozy
as if it occupied a totally different world from the one they'd
just left.

"When we were in high school, I used to watch
you," Bret said. "You were quiet, but so cool and
confident."

Nora's jaw dropped open. He'd watched her in
high school?

"You were dating Richard, but every now and
then," Bret went on, his voice soft and low, "I'd catch your eye
and I'd wonder.... "

He bent to brush his lips against her cheek, a
scatter of electricity along the point of contact jolting
her.

With his arm around her, his hard, lean body
pressed to hers, uncivilized urges hummed through Nora's blood. She
sat on the couch in the quiet little cabin, surrounded by a
sensation of comfort she'd never known. Not comfort in a soft,
mothery sense, but a completion, a connection like a lock and
key.

With Bret, she felt more of everything, as if
the world suddenly shifted from gray monotone to
Technicolor.

Nora took in a deep, shaky breath. A white hot
current seemed to run from his body to hers, replacing the fading
anger at the humiliating scene she'd just endured.

"You've got a heart as big as Texas," he
murmured. "But you've got to trust it more. Playing safe—it's only
gotten you trouble. Trust your instincts, honey. Do what you
want."

His words reverberated in her head. Do what she
wanted?

A dangerous idea. What she wanted was him. She
wanted his kisses, the taste of him on her tongue. Even the thought
of that morning on the porch left her awash in a heady
excitement.

She shouldn't have come here with him. The
small space seemed too personal, so masculine. Nora battled with
herself.

"What if I want...risky things?" she asked, her
voice low.

"What's the point of living if you never take a
chance? Haven't you ever been impulsive?"

A hundred sensual images spilled into her mind.
He was everything she wanted.

Her breath caught in her throat. All her
fantasies held him at the core. In them, she was a free woman, her
forbidden desires no longer restrained. She wanted to seduce him to
a mindless, desperate state. The thought had haunted her for
days.