The Manning Sisters Read online

  The bite of chicken-fried steak stuck halfway down Russ’s throat, and he had to swallow hard before he could speak normally. “Taylor came up with the idea?”

  “I think her parents were the ones who thought of it because she was telling me that’s what they did with her and her sister when they were fourteen and boys began asking them out.”

  “I see.”

  “Just think, Russ,” Mandy murmured sarcastically. “Taylor’s parents are from the big city, and they managed to come up with this all on their own. Naw, on second thought, I bet someone from the country suggested it.”

  Normally Russ wouldn’t have tolerated his sister talking to him in that tone of voice. The kid sure knew all the right buttons to push. But this time Russ didn’t react as he usually did. The pressure that settled on his chest made it difficult to concentrate on anything else.

  His appetite gone, Russ pushed his plate away, propped his elbows on the table and stared straight ahead.

  He’d done it now. Taylor would never speak to him again. Unless…

  Another lonely Friday night, Taylor mused as she sat at the kitchen table with paper and pen. She owed everyone letters, and it wasn’t as though she had anything pressing to do.

  She leaned back in the chair and reread the long letter from Christy, chuckling over her youngest sibling’s warmth and wit.

  Someone knocked at the door and, laying aside the letter, Taylor went to answer it. A smiling Mandy stood on the other side.

  “Mandy? Is everything all right?”

  “It’s perfect. Well, almost…” she said, beaming. She seemed in a hurry and glanced over her shoulder.

  Taylor’s gaze followed hers, and she noticed Russ’s truck parked alongside the curb. He was sitting in the cab.

  “Russ said I could meet Eddie at the movies and sit with him under one condition, and I’m afraid that involves you.”

  Taylor couldn’t have heard Mandy correctly. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Russ seems to feel that Eddie and I are going to need a couple of chaperones.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “No, it isn’t,” Mandy insisted much too cheerfully to suit Taylor. “At least I don’t mind if you guys sit on the other side of the theater from Eddie and me.”

  “You guys?”

  “You and Russ. He said I can only do this if you agree to sit with him during the movie so he doesn’t look like a jerk being there all by himself.”

  “You can tell your brother for me—”

  “Taylor,” Mandy cut in, leaning forward to whisper as if there was a chance Russ might overhear. “This is the only way Russ could think of to get you to talk to him again. He’s really sorry for how he acted and the things he said.”

  “Sending you to do his apologizing for him isn’t going to work,” Taylor said matter-of-factly. “Neither is this little game of blackmail.”

  Mandy thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “You know what? You’re absolutely right!” Placing her hands on her hips, she whirled around to face the street. “Russ!” she yelled at the top of her lungs.

  Russ leaned across the cab of the pickup and rolled down the window.

  “If you want to apologize to Taylor, you’re going to have to do it yourself!” Mandy shouted. Taylor was certain half the neighbors could hear. Her worst fears were confirmed when she saw the lady across the street pulling aside her drape and peeking out.

  “And Taylor says she refuses to be blackmailed.”

  Taylor was mortified when the doors to several more homes opened and a couple of men stepped onto their porches to investigate the source of all the shouting.

  “What are you going to do about it?” Mandy yelled.

  By this time Russ had climbed out of the truck. He was wearing the same gray suit jacket with the suede yoke he’d had on the night of the Grange dance.

  “Hey, Palmer, what’s going on with the schoolteacher?” one of Taylor’s neighbors heckled.

  Two or three others came off their porches and onto the sidewalk. A low murmur followed Russ’s progress toward Taylor.

  “Hey, Russ, apologize, would you?”

  “Yeah,” another chimed in. “Then we can have some peace and quiet around here.”

  Russ paid no attention. When he reached the end of the walk, he looked straight at Taylor, then leaped up the steps. “You want a formal apology?” he asked. “Fine, I’ll give you one, but after that we’re going to the movies.”

  Ten

  “I’m not going to the movies with you, Russ Palmer. That’s all there is to it,” Taylor said, and gently closed the door. She turned the lock just to be on the safe side and went back to the kitchen where she’d started a letter to her sister.

  A few minutes later, she heard the faint strains of a guitar and someone singing, badly off key. Good grief, it sounded like…Russ. Russ singing?

  Deciding the only thing she could do was ignore him, Taylor returned to her letter-writing project.

  Apparently Russ wasn’t going to be easily foiled, and when she didn’t immediately appear, he countered by singing and playing louder. His determination was evident in each word of his ridiculously maudlin song. He was completely untalented as a singer, and his guitar-playing abilities weren’t anything to brag about, either.

  Covering her ears, Taylor slid as low as she could in her chair. The man’s nerve was colossal. If she’d learned anything during her time in Cougar Point, it was that cowboys didn’t lack arrogance. To assume that she’d be willing to forget everything simply because he serenaded her was downright comical.

  It was then that the phone rang. Taylor answered it on the second ring, grinning at Russ’s impertinence, despite her irritation.

  “For heaven’s sake,” her neighbor shouted over the line, “do something, will you? His singing is making my dog howl.”

  No sooner had Taylor replaced the phone than it rang again. “My china’s starting to rattle. Would you please kiss and make up before my crystal cracks?” Taylor recognized the voice of Mrs. Fergason, the lady from across the street.

  Grinding her teeth with frustration, Taylor tore across the living room and yanked open the door. “Stop!”

  Russ took one look at her and grinned broadly. He lowered the guitar, obviously delighted with himself. “I see you’ve come to your senses.”

  “Either stop singing or I’m calling the police. You’re disturbing my peace and that of my neighbors. Now leave.”

  Russ blinked, apparently convinced he’d misunderstood her. “I wish I could, but I owe you an apology and I won’t feel right until I clear the air.”

  “Okay, you’ve apologized. Now will you kindly go?”

  He rubbed his hand down his jaw. “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?” Taylor jerked back her head hard enough to give herself whiplash. “I don’t believe it. Why are you doing this?”

  “Because I’m falling in love with you.”

  A lump immediately formed in Taylor’s throat. This was the last thing she’d wanted. Living in Cougar Point was supposed to give her a chance to heal from one disastrous relationship, not involve her in another.

  “Russ,” Mandy called, leaning out the window of the truck, “hurry or we’ll be late for the movie.”

  “Are you going or not?” Mrs. Fergason shouted. “Decide, will you? Jeopardy’s about to start, and I don’t want to miss Alex Trebek.”

  Taylor was still too stunned to react. “Don’t love me, Russ. Please don’t love me.”

  “I’m sorry, but it’s too late. I knew the minute you went headfirst into that mud hole that we were meant for each other. Now are you going to ruin Mandy’s big night with your stubbornness, or are you going to the movie with me?”

  If she’d had her wits about her Taylor would never have agreed to this blatant form of blackmail, but Russ had taken all the wind from the sails of her righteousness. Before she realized exactly how she’d gotten there, she was inside the Cougar Point
Theater, sitting in the back row with Russ, munching on hot buttered popcorn.

  “We’ve got to talk,” she whispered as the opening credits started. She’d seen the movie months earlier, and although she’d enjoyed it, she wasn’t eager to see it a second time—especially now, after Russ’s shocking declaration.

  His large callused hand reached for hers, closing around her fingers. “We can talk later.”

  How she managed to sit through the entire film, Taylor didn’t know. Her mind was in a chaotic whirl. All too soon the closing credits were rolling and the house lights came up. The theater began to empty.

  Mandy dashed down the aisle, the famous Eddie at her side. “Would it be all right if we went over to the bowling alley? Chris’s mom and dad offered to buy everyone nachos. Lots of other kids are going.”

  “How long will you be?” Russ asked.

  Mandy looked at Eddie. “An hour,” the boy said firmly, perhaps expecting Russ to argue with him. He was over six feet tall and as lean as a telephone pole, yet Mandy gazed at him as if he were a Hollywood heartthrob.

  “All right,” Russ said, apparently surprising them both. “I’ll pick you up in exactly one hour.”

  “Thanks,” Mandy said, and impulsively kissed his cheek.

  “That gives us forty-five minutes to settle our differences,” Russ said, smiling over at Taylor, his eyes filled with silent messages.

  By now Taylor felt more than a little disoriented. It was as if her entire world resembled the flickering frames in a silent movie. Everything had a strange, staccato feeling, and nothing seemed real.

  “Where are we going?” she asked when Russ opened the truck door for her.

  “Back to your place. Unless you object.”

  Russ had ignored every one of her objections from the moment they’d met, and there was no reason to assume he was going to change at this stage.

  When Russ parked his truck, Taylor half expected her neighbors to file out of their homes and line the sidewalk, offering advice. But all the excitement earlier in the evening had apparently tired everyone out. It was only nine, and already most of the houses were completely dark.

  “I’ll make us some coffee,” Taylor said, finding her voice. She unlocked the door, but before she could flip on the living-room lights, Russ gently turned her around and pulled her into his arms.

  He closed the front door with his foot and pressed her against the wall. Their eyes adjusted to the dark, and met. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered reverently. He lifted his hands to her hair, weaving the thick strands through his fingers. Taylor felt powerless to stop him. She closed her eyes and savored the moment. Savored the exquisite sensations Russ evoked within her.

  “Please don’t fall in love with me,” she pleaded, remembering the reason for this discussion. “Don’t love me.”

  “I can’t help myself,” he whispered, kissing the taut line of her jaw. “Trust me, Taylor, I wasn’t all that happy about it myself. You belong in the city.”

  “Exactly,” she said, breathing deeply. It never seemed to fail: Russ would hold her and she’d dissolve in his arms. Her breathing became labored, and her heart went on a rampage. She tried to convince herself that they were simply dealing with an abundance of hormones, but no matter how many times she told herself that, it didn’t matter.

  Russ couldn’t love her. He just couldn’t. Because then Taylor would be forced to examine her own feelings for him. She’d be compelled to face what she intuitively knew would be better left unnamed.

  “You’re a West Coast liberal feminist.”

  “You’re a small-town Montana redneck.”

  “I know,” he agreed, continuing to kiss her jaw, his mouth wandering down the side of her neck.

  Listing their differences didn’t seem to affect their reactions to each other. Russ raised his head and traced his thumb across her lower lip. It was all Taylor could do not to moan. No man had ever incited such burning need.

  Taylor took Russ’s finger between her teeth and slowly drew it into her mouth, sucking lightly. He closed his eyes and smiled, then sighed from deep within his chest.

  With his hands cupping her face, he kissed her, and it was incredibly sweet, incredibly sexy. Every time Russ took her into his arms, he eliminated all the disparities between them, took everything in their lives and reduced it to the simple fact that they were man and woman.

  She gripped his wrists and held on tightly. “Russ, no more…please.” With a strength she didn’t realize she had, Taylor broke off the kiss.

  “I’ve just begun,” he warned.

  His lips remained so close to hers that she inhaled his moist, warm breath.

  “Why does everything come down to this?” she murmured. Her knees were slightly bent as she struggled to hold on to what little strength she still possessed.

  “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I can’t seem to keep my hands off you.” As though to prove his point, he trailed a row of kisses across the curve of her shoulder.

  “Russ…”

  “Not here…I know.” His voice was so husky Taylor barely recognized it. Without any difficulty, he lifted her into his arms.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  “Carrying you into the bedroom.”

  “No,” she whispered, close to tears.

  “Rhett Butler carried Scarlett—I can’t do any less for you. I thought all women, even you feminist types, went for this romantic stuff.”

  “We can’t do this…. Russ, listen to me. If we make love, we’re both going to regret it later.” She was nearly frantic, desperate to talk some sense into him. Talk some sense into herself. All the while, Russ was walking along the hallway to her bedroom.

  Her weight must have gotten to be too much for him, because he paused and leaned heavily against the wall. Before she could argue, insist that he put her down, his mouth sought hers, his lips sliding back and forth over hers with mute urgency. Whatever objection Taylor was about to raise died the instant his mouth took hers. She entwined her arms around his neck and boldly kissed him back.

  “I thought that would shut you up,” he murmured triumphantly as he shifted her weight in his arms and carried her directly into the bedroom.

  There was ample time to protest, ample time to demand that he stop, but the words, so perfectly formed in her mind, were never spoken. Instead she leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed heavily. She couldn’t fight them both.

  Russ placed her on the bed. Taylor closed her eyes, hating this weakness in her. At the same moment, savoring it. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

  “I can,” he said. “I haven’t stopped thinking about it since the day we met. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” Russ murmured, “day and night, night and day.”

  She smiled softly up at him and slipped her arms around his neck. “You’ve been on my mind, too.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. But it’s more than that,” he continued between kisses. “I can’t seem to rid myself of this need for you. I want to make love to you more than I’ve wanted anything in my life.”

  Taylor felt his moist breath against her cheek and sighed audibly as he began kissing her again, creating magical sensations. Scorching need.

  Her arms and legs felt as if they were liquid, without strength. Russ continued to hold her, to rain kisses over her face. Then he nuzzled her neck. Taylor tried to immerse herself in his tenderness, but as hard as she tried, she couldn’t seem to block out the fact that their lovemaking would only lead to pain. It had been months since she’d seen Mark, and she was still suffering. How could she do this to herself a second time when she was all too aware of the emotional aftermath?

  She’d tried so hard to fight her attraction to Russ. Yet here she was, inviting even more pain, more doubts, more questions. She wasn’t the type of woman who leaped into bed with a man just because it felt good.

  “Russ…no more,” she pleaded, pushing with all her strengt
h against the very shoulders she’d been caressing only moments earlier. “Stop…oh, please, we have to stop.”

  He went still, and slowly raised his eyes. They were darker than she’d ever seen them. Hotter than she’d ever seen them, but not with anger.

  “You don’t mean that.” Lovingly, tenderly, he ran his hands over her face and paused when he discovered the moisture on her cheeks.

  “You’re crying.”

  Taylor hadn’t realized it herself until he’d caressed her face. His eyes questioned hers, filled with apprehension, misgivings. “What’s wrong?”

  She placed the tips of her fingers on his cheek. “I can’t make love with you…. I can’t.”

  “Why not?” His voice was little more than a whisper, and gruff with anxiety. “I love you, Taylor.” As if to prove it, he kissed her again, but even more gently this time.

  Twisting her head away, Taylor buried her face in the curve of his neck, dragging in deep gulps of air as Russ held her close.

  “I don’t want you to love me,” she sobbed. “If we continue like this, it’ll only cause problems—not just for me, but for you, too.”

  “Not necessarily.”

  How confident he sounded, how secure, when she was neither.

  “I’ve been in love before…and it hurts too much.” She raised her head and swallowed a sob, then wiped the tears from her face. “His name was Mark—and he’s the reason I moved to Montana. I had to get away…and heal…. Instead, I met you.”

  The sobs came in earnest then. Huge heaving sobs that humiliated and humbled her. She wasn’t crying for Mark; she was over him. Yet the tears fell and the pain gushed forth in an absolution she hadn’t expected. Pain she’d incarcerated behind a wall of smiles, and then lugged across three states.

  Russ obviously didn’t know what to think. He stroked her hair, but he didn’t say anything, and she knew her timing couldn’t have been worse. Bringing up the subject of Mark now, tonight, was insane, but she’d had to stop Russ. Stop them both. She’d had to do something.