Reckless Passion (4 page)

The twanging waltz came to a close and sensuously entwined dancers began making their way slowly off the floor as the strains of a toe-tapping railroad song took over.

Yale's arm guided her through the smoke-filled, dimly lit room, past a table of raucous truck drivers who watched in open male appreciation as she walked by them. Self-consciously,
Dara
kept her eyes on the far wall, grateful for Yale's possessive arm on her waist.

"I think we've got a visitor," Yale said calmly as they neared their table. The sound effects of a nearby electronic pinball game covered his next words, and
Dara
glanced up curiously. Then she saw the husky stranger sitting at their table.

The large man, balding on to and wearing a belt which had to be buckled below his stomach to accommodate his bulk, stood up at once as they approached.

"Sorry, folks."
He grinned good-naturedly. "Tables are kind of scarce, and I was taking a chance this one might have been recently vacated." His bright blue eyes dropped interestedly to
Dara's
neckline with the appraising look she was coming to expect. "I'll be moving on," he added, picking up his bottle of beer. "Reckon there's always a spot at the bar..."

"That's all right," Yale said easily, surprising
Dara
. "Why don't you join us for a while? We don't mind sharing, do we,
Dara
?"

Dara
shook her head and smiled politely, thinking that Yale's accent seemed to be changing more and more quickly. He was beginning to sound a little like the truck driver who had just taken their table.

"I appreciate that, friend." Their new acquaintance grinned, resuming his seat as
Dara
sat down. "I won't be staying long.
Got a lot of miles ahead of me tonight."

"Where you headed?" Yale asked laconically, reaching for his beer.

"Sacramento."

"Home port?"

"You can say that again," the stranger breathed with an air of great expectation. "Got a wife and kid
waitin
'
there.
Name's Bonner, by the way.
Hank Bonner."

Yale introduced himself and
Dara
, and when Hank's eyes strayed to her neckline,
Dara
felt obliged to try some sort of distraction.

"I, uh, expect your wife must miss you when you're gone on these long trips," she said gently. "I take it you drive a truck?''

"You take it right. And I surely hope to God she's been missing me!" Hank said in a heartfelt tone.

"How old is your child?"
Dara
persevered bravely, wishing he wouldn't look at her quite so interestedly.

"Two." Hank brightened suddenly.
"Got a picture.
Want to see it?"

"Oh, I'd love to." She smiled quickly.

She was aware of Yale's silent amusement as Hank Bonner began dragging photographs out of his wallet. He had several
pictures,
it seemed, of a smiling, dark-haired woman holding a young boy. He spread them out in front of
Dara
with obvious pleasure.

"Took this one out behind the house last month.
That's the new camper I just bought, and this one's on the front lawn. Wife wanted that new patio furniture so bad I finally had to break down and get it for her," he said, shaking his head affectionately. "No peace at all until it arrived. Guess women are like that, huh, Ransom?" He grinned.

Yale's mouth lifted slightly at the corners. "I guess so. No peace at all until they get what they're after."

Dara
ignored his sardonic glance, but she couldn't fully ignore his next words. "The interesting part is watching them find out if they really wanted it after they've gotten it."

"I'd be willing to bet that women know their own minds better than men ever will!" she stated firmly, shooting Yale a severe glance.

"That's a fact!" Hank Bonner agreed, chuckling. "Probably
ain't
a man alive who really understands a woman's mind!"

"No great loss, I reckon, as long as he understands the rest of her," Yale said smoothly, sipping his beer and watching the color climb in
Dara's
cheeks.

"The man who doesn't make an effort to understand both
is
only going to get half the satisfaction out of a relationship!" she heard herself say crisply.

"But it's likely to be the half that counts," Yale retorted coolly while Hank roared with laughter.
Dara
glared at him.

"I like this little lady of yours, Ransom. Don't suppose you'd let me have a dance with her, would you?" Hank asked hopefully.

Dara
winced. It was obvious her feelings didn't matter. As far as Hank was concerned, she was private property and he had to request permission from the owner, not the property!

Yale shrugged. "Ask her yourself. I guess she can do what she wants."

"I'll keep her safe and sound," Hank vowed, getting to his feet and clearly expecting
Dara
to do the same.

Thoroughly annoyed but not yet at the point where she was wilting to cause a scene in such unfamiliar territory,
Dara
allowed herself to be led off by Hank Bonner.

"Where'd Ransom meet a little lady like you?" Hank asked glibly as he took her into his arms for another country waltz. "You come here often?"

"This is my first time here,"
Dara
said politely. "As you've probably already guessed," she added as Hank grinned broadly.

"No offense, ma'am, but you are a little different from the kind of woman I normally find here."

"Do I look so out of place?"

"Just different," he repeated soothingly. "So where did you meet Ransom if not here?"

"You mean he
does
look like he belongs here?" she asked immediately, curious once again. It would be helpful to have another opinion on the man, she thought.

Hank Bonner chuckled. "Sure. I'm just
wonderin
' where he had to go to find you,
that's
all."

"A party,"
Dara
explained weakly.

"Must have been some party!"

Dara
wisely let that one go and concentrated on following Hank's energetic waltzing. Eventually the dance came to an end and
Dara
turned with relief to head back to the table. Somehow, in spite of his less than gentlemanly behavior this evening, Yale represented safety in this strange place. She was turning that one over in her head when a very drunken cowboy loomed in her path.

"Is the lady
beginnin
' to circulate?" he drawled deliberately, dark eyes moving crudely over
Dara
. “It so happens I'm
lookin
' for a partner..." He stretched out a hand to snag her wrist and
Dara
instinctively withdrew, bumping against Hank's protruding stomach. His arm came around her protectively.

"Sorry, the lady's only on temporary loan to me. Got to return her to the rightful owner," Hank explained breezily. But
Dara
could feel the sudden tightening of his muscles.

Oh, Lord!
she
thought, horrified. She mustn't let this turn into a fight!

"Excuse me," she said very firmly. "I have to get back to my table."

"Come on, honey," the drunken cowboy said, his words slurring as he tried once again for a grip on her wrist. "I dance a hell of a lot better than this
turkey,
and as long as your man's
lectin
' you entertain others..."

"Let go of me, you idiot!"
Dara
grated, pulling her hand free with a totally exasperated movement.

"You heard her," Hank growled, and now
Dara
knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that her dancing partner was preparing for battle.

Beginning to panic, she scanned the teeming crowd for Yale.

"Stop it, both of you," she tried in desperation. "I'm not going to dance with anyone...!"

"Except me," the cowboy muttered.

"Yale!" Instinctively,
Dara
put herself between the two men who seemed on the verge of a fist fight. "Yale! Where the...oh! There you are!"

She saw him as he suddenly appeared behind the cowboy and tore herself free of Hank's protection to hurl herself into Yale's arms.

"It's about time you showed up!" she hissed as he curved his arm around her waist and held her against his side.

"Didn't take you long to start causing trouble, did it?" he observed placidly, his eyes on the drunk.
"A slight misunderstanding here?"

"Ah, he's just bombed out of his skull," Hank explained disparagingly, sauntering forward. "Thought
Dara
was spreading the favors around. I was about to set him straight, but now you're here I reckon that's your right."

"No one is going to set anyone straight!"
Dara
yelped angrily. "I'm not going to dance with anyone! Is that clear?"

"As crystal," Yale confirmed, grinning down at her.
"Ready to sit down?"

"Yes!"

"Then, if you'll excuse us," Yale told the cowboy imperturbably, "we'll be on our way. Unless, of course," he added silkily, "you have some objection?"

Dara
froze, realizing with appalled comprehension that Yale was as fully prepared to fight as Hank had been. What was the matter with these men? Was that the only solution they had to "misunderstandings" of this nature?

"Yale, please," she whispered fiercely, tugging at his sleeve. He ignored her, his narrowed, waiting gaze on the cowboy.

"I thought she was being allowed off the leash," the drunken man muttered. "Not my fault..."

"As I
said,
a misunderstanding." Yale nodded pleasantly. But
Dara
could feel the tautness of his muscles and knew he was still coiled to strike. "I'm sure you can find another woman. This one's mine."

With a frustrated and angry glance at
Dara
, the man wheeled unsteadily and plunged off through the crowd.

''A sigh of relief?"
Yale murmured, his fingers, which were resting just under her breast, correctly interpreting her long breath.

"You don't have to look so nervous,
Dara
," Hank told her soothingly. "Ransom
ain't
gonna
let anything happen to you."

"I can't tell you how reassuring that is!" she snapped without thinking, her annoyance plain.

"Why are you so upset?" Hank demanded, genuinely puzzled. "You don't want to dance with that creep, and we're here to make sure you don't have to!"

"Just another example of not being able to understand a woman's mind, Hank," Yale quipped, pushing
Dara
gently back toward the table. “Do what you think she wants and help her out of a situation, and the first thing she does is lose her temper!'

“The temptation to knock both your heads together is rapidly become irresistible,"
Dara
informed them grandly, taking her seat. "You might be able to defend me against drunken fools, but who's going to defend you against me?"

"She's got a point," Yale conceded, grinning at Hank.

"That she does," Hank agreed admiringly. "A good point like that deserves another beer. I'm buying!"

Dara
reflected much later that they might all still have managed to get out of the tavern without a fight if the frustrated drunk hadn't decided to take out his anger on the pinball machine.

At least, she assumed that was what initiated the disaster. There was a loud, shattering sound from the direction of the game machines shortly after the arrival of the beers Hank had ordered.

"What in the world...!"
Dara
swung around to stare in the direction everyone else was staring, but it was impossible to see exactly what was happening. The group of men standing around the machines seemed to turn into a brawling riot before her very eyes.