. He could be rough and forceful with Jessy because he knew she could give it back, if not better than she got. But Tara would have been frightened by so much emotion. She couldn’t give all her love like this—like this.
It was his weight and his arms that shifted her onto the rug again, and the driving pitch of his needs that made the sounds in her throat. Hot sensation dragged them both into its blissful undertow where minds ceased to function and bodies did all the communicating that was necessary.
After slipping her arms into the sleeves of her robe, Jessy loosely draped the front of it shut. She tunneled a hand under the nearly dry hair at the back of her neck and lifted it from beneath the robe. Ty came padding into the living room in his stockinged feet, clad in a pair of Levi’s but bare from the waist up. He sank onto the braided rug where she was seated and handed her the hairbrush he carried.
“You’re sweating,” she observed and picked up the towel to blot at the sheen of perspiration on the muscled points of his shoulders.
“It’s the fire,” Ty murmured, a lazy light gleaming in his eyes.
“Which one?” Jessy inquired in a dryly teasing voice and laid the towel aside to begin brushing the tangles from her hair.
His hand stopped her and tugged persuasively to urge her to lie back. He was raised up on one elbow, and she lowered herself to rest her head on his muscled forearm. His half-closed eyes studied her while he traced a slow circle from her cheekbone to her jaw to her lips, the skin around them reddened by the scratch of his mustache.
“Still hate me?”
The faint smile stayed on her lips, but the light in her eyes became more serious. “Sometimes.” She fiddled thoughtfully with the hairbrush. “It seems I’ve hated you on and off ever since I’ve known you.”
“Such as?”
“That time you kissed me as a joke, then ... there have been a couple of other times.” But she chose not to elaborate.
A grimness took over his expression. “Like when I married Tara, I suppose.”
“That was one of them.” Jessy sat up again to resume brushing her hair. Ty rolled over and reached for the pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket.
Everything had been so infinitely pleasant and comfortable between them. Now the old irritation was back, the ugly twinges of guilt and unease. The match wouldn’t light, and he swore bitterly under his breath. Then he simply held them, the matchbook and cigarette in one hand, the match in the other.
“I’ve tried to stay away from here. You know that, Jessy.”
“I guessed it,” she admitted, neither of them looking at the other. She stopped brushing her hair and simply studied the dark bristles.
“It isn’t fair to you,” he said.
“I think it’s up to me to decide whether a bargain is fair or not.”
“Maybe I know you deserve more than you’re getting.”
“Old Nate Moore told me once that you should never do any heavy talking on an empty stomach.” Jessy uncurled her legs to rise to her feet. “Are you sure you don’t want to change your mind about supper?”
It was a deliberate change of subject, turning aside a topic she didn’t want to discuss. Ty breathed heavily, grimly admiring her guts. Not once had she asked him to lie to her or make meaningless promises.
“No, thanks.”
As she started for the kitchen, the telephone rang. She changed direction to answer it, holding the front of her robe shut, but the bottom gaped about her long, shapely legs.
“Hi, Dad,” she said the instant she recognized the voice on the other end of the line. “What’s up?”
“Mrs. Calder just phoned me.” There was an edge to his voice. “She was looking for Ty and broadly hinted that I might know where to find him. Is he there?”
“Ty?” she repeated his name for Ty’s benefit and saw his head come around to narrow questioningly on her.
“Yes, Ty,” her father said, none too patiently. “If he’s there, tell him to get home right away.”
“What is it? Has something happened?” Her questions brought Ty to his feet and across the room to take the telephone from her.
“What is it, Stumpy?” he demanded. A frown of surprise broke across his expression. Briefly he covered the mouthpiece to tell Jessy, “It’s my sister. She’s missing from school.” Then into the phone he said, “I’m on my way,” and hung up.
“What do you mean by missing? Was she kidnaped, or did she simply run away?” Jessy queried.