Dream's End by Diana Palmer Page A

her.
    â€œI told you,” he was saying gruffly, “I’m not being railroaded, Amanda. Either we wait until I’m ready, or we call the whole damned thing off. You don’t want to? Then what the hell are you doing in Houston?” There was a pause and he cursed under his breath. “You couldn’t turn it down? Then stay there. Don’t ‘oh, Curry’ me! I want you likehell, but not enough to let you lead me around like a broken stallion. My terms, Amanda. No ifs, buts or maybes. My terms, or nothing. All right.” He sighed roughly. “Maybe the breathing space will do us both good. I’ll see you in two weeks, and we’ll talk about it. Sure. Bye.”
    He hung up and stood there staring down at the phone, his hard-muscled body as taut as a stretched rope, running a restless hand through his hair. He looked as if he might explode, and Eleanor hesitated uncertainly on the bottom stair.
    As if he sensed her presence, he turned, and his pale, troubled eyes looked full into hers.
    â€œProblems?” she asked softly.
    He nodded. His eyes traced her slenderness like an artist’s brush. “Take your hair down,” he said.
    â€œIt gets in my eyes,” she faltered.
    He moved close, and his lean, brownhands reached up to untie the ribbon, letting the soft waves tumble down. His fingers tangled in the softness gently, touching the warm flesh of her throat through it, his breath coming harder and heavy at her forehead.
    â€œPlease,” she whispered shakily as his fingers contracted bringing her face up to his suddenly blazing eyes. “Please don’t use me to keep your mind off her,” she whispered.
    His jaw clenched, his nostrils flared. “Is that what you think?”
    â€œIt’s what I know. I…I couldn’t help overhearing.” She dropped her eyes, licking her dry lips as she fought to keep her emotional upheaval from showing. “I’m sorry you’re upset, but hurting me won’t help.”
    â€œWould it hurt you?” he asked softly.
    She didn’t know what he meant, but she was afraid to ask. “Shouldn’t we go?”
    â€œNorie, don’t be afraid of me,” hewhispered against her temple, using the familiar nickname for the first time. “Little Dresden china doll, I won’t hurt you again, physically or emotionally. Don’t run from me.”
    â€œI…I’m not running, I just don’t want…”
    â€œDon’t want what?” he murmured, placing his lips against her closed eyelids. “Let me make love to you.”
    â€œNo!” She pushed away with all her strength and backed against the wall like a stalked fawn, her pale green eyes enormous in her pale face.
    His eyes narrowed painfully. “God, don’t look like that!” he exploded.
    â€œYou…you make me feel like something hunted,” she exclaimed. “Please!”
    He whirled with a hard sigh and a muffled curse, running his hand around his neck tightly as if there was an ache in it he couldn’t ease.
    â€œCome on, if you’re not afraid to ride with me,” he growled as he reached forhis battered work hat and started out the door.
    She followed along behind him, the day ruined, afraid of him as she’d never been. She hesitated on the bottom step as he swung into the pickup and threw the passenger door open for her.
    â€œWell?” he shot at her.
    She got in, slamming the door firmly. She couldn’t look at him.
    â€œIs it Black? I’d just like to know.”
    She shifted restlessly, staring at the dash unseeingly. “No,” she replied.
    â€œMy God, it’s like trying to pry a clam open,” he grumbled as he started the truck. “All right, forget it!” he said, and accelerated out of the yard.

Seven
    I n a stoic silence, Curry drove down to the twin barns where his horses were kept. His face was set, and a cigarette burned