Cattleman's Choice by Diana Palmer

face. “Yes, once in a while they come over for other purposes,” he said softly. “I’m a man, not a plaster saint, and I have all the usual needs.”
    Her face colored slowly and he grinned. She tore her eyes away, but her hands trembled and she hated that giveaway sign.
    â€œYou’re such a little greenhorn,” he murmured. “You don’t know anything about men and women, do you?”
    â€œI’m not ignorant,” she muttered.
    â€œI didn’t say you were. Just innocent.” He finished drying the last dish and put it to one side. “I like that. Your being innocent, I mean. I like it a lot.”
    She couldn’t meet his eyes. He made her feel shy and young and all thumbs.
    â€œWhy hasn’t there been a man?” he asked quietly.
    â€œLet’s start your dancing lessons, shall we?” she began nervously. She started past him, but he caught her.
    â€œWhy, Mandelyn?” he persisted.
    â€œCarson…”
    His big hands caught her waist and crushed her body against his. “Why, damn it?” he burst out, his patience at an end.
    Her vulnerability to his nearness shocked her. She panicked and suddenly tore away from him as if she couldn’t bear for him to touch her. She stood with her back to him, shivering.
    She knew he hadn’t liked her withdrawal, not one bit. But she couldn’t help it, he terrified her. She was getting in over her head, and she didn’t know how to stop him, how to handle him. Carson was more man pound for pound than she’d ever seen.
    She swallowed down a rush of shyness and turned back to face him. He was preoccupied, as if he was thinking deep thoughts. He came close again, his gaze intent.
    â€œSuppose you show me how to dance,” he said at last. “Then next week comes culture. I’ve bought tickets for a ballet in Phoenix. I thought you might come along and explain it all to me.”
    She laughed. “You, at a ballet?”
    He glared at her. “Stop that!”
    â€œYes, Carson,” she said demurely.
    â€œTurn on that damned stereo, will you?”
    A moment later the music flowed sweetly into the silence. Mandelyn went easily into his arms and showed him how to hold her, not too tightly, not too loosely. Then she taught him what to do with his feet. He was a little clumsy at first, but an apt enough student.
    â€œWhy do I have to hold you so far away?” he asked. “I’ve seen couples practically making love on the dance floor.”
    â€œNot in polite company,” she said huskily, staring at her feet.
    â€œYes, in polite company,” he murmured. His hands brought her gently closer, until she was standing right up against him, so close that she could feel his heartbeat against her breasts. “Like this. Here.” He brought one of her hands up to his neck and slid his arm further around her, resting his chin on her head. “Mmm,” he murmured, “much better.”
    That depended on one’s point of view, she thought nervously. She felt stiff, because her body was reacting to his like wildfire.
    â€œDon’t panic,” he said softly. “We’ll just dance.”
    But she was all too close to him, and something had happened to his body that she’d never experienced before. She tried to edge a little away from him, but he held her fast.
    â€œCarson,” she protested weakly.
    â€œMandelyn, I know you’re a virgin,” he said quietly. “I’m not going to make a wild grab for you.”
    â€œYes, I know, but…but…”
    â€œBut you can feel me wanting you and you’re frightened, isn’t that it?” He lifted his head and searched her eyes. “I’m not embarrassed. Why should you be? It’s a man’s very natural reaction to a lovely woman.”
    She’d never heard it put like that. She studied his hard face.
    â€œI’ve spent my life working with