Читать книгу Tall, Dark & Western - Anne Marie Winston - Страница 9

The woman caught his attention the minute she walked into the café food court at the Rushmore Mall in Rapid City, South Dakota. Not because she was particularly well endowed, which was usually one of Marty Stryker’s preferences in feminine company, but because she was so beautiful.

Beautiful, he thought again. Not just pretty, definitely not cute, but breathtakingly gorgeous.

She was tiny, probably not more than five feet tall, and so dainty she looked as though a good wind would send her sailing. As she stood in the middle of the walkway near the food court, a weak ray of winter sunshine fell through one of the skylights, illuminating her pale blond beauty and for a moment, all he could think of was that she looked exactly like an angel.

She was fine-boned, with just about the biggest blue eyes he thought he’d ever seen, and her shining hair was smoothly caught in some kind of fancy twist at the back of her head. She had a straight little nose and a lipsticked pair of bowed lips that reminded him of a perfect china doll. The simple black dress she wore emphasized her fair coloring and a slender, almost childish figure beneath the fabric. She glanced at him once, a flash of intense blue, then looked away, and a hint of rose slid along her high, slanted cheekbones.

Marty was charmed. And turned on. He hadn’t had a woman in…how the heck long had it been, anyway? It was a real bad sign when a man couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had sex.

But he hardly had time, not to mention the lack of opportunity. Single women weren’t exactly thick on the ground around Kadoka, and the few who were interested in accommodating a man weren’t the kind he wanted to get anywhere near. After all, he was a father. He had standards.

But man, oh, man, wouldn’t it be great if she were the one— Whoa, horse. Marty caught the thought before he could complete it. He didn’t need a beautiful wife. In fact, he’d already met beautiful women, much more his type than this little angel, in his quest for a wife. None of them had worked out. He’d promised himself he wasn’t going to be so picky next time. There weren’t that many women answering his ad for a wife that he could keep on looking for the perfect candidate.

And he wanted a wife. Not just for the sex, but for the company. God, he missed sharing simple things like picking out birthday gifts for Cheyenne, drinking morning coffee and conversation.

Then the angel turned his way again. Her eyes locked on his and her eyebrows lifted in a tentative question. She started toward him and he remembered that his wife candidate had said she’d be wearing black.

His heart rate picked up a beat. He stood, whipping off the Stetson he’d worn to identify himself to the woman he was supposed to meet.

“Mr. Stryker?” She was standing in front of him now.

He nodded, not sure if his vocal cords would cooperate if he tried to speak.

“I’m Juliette Duchenay.” The angel held out her hand. Then she smiled.

Marty hoped his face didn’t show the shock to his system as he slowly reached out and enfolded her fragile fingers in his much larger, anything but fragile palm. The smile transformed her from classically lovely to drop-dead beautiful, bringing a mischievous sparkle to her eyes and displaying white, perfect teeth. Her smile had a pixieish quality to it, a genuine friendliness that he found he liked. A lot.

“It’s good to meet you.” It was the first thing he could manage to say, the first words his tongue would wrap themselves around as his palm swallowed hers. She had the tiniest hands he’d ever seen, and the skin was as warm and soft and feminine as he’d imagined.

There was an awkward silence.

Marty roused himself from his bemused stupor. He usually was smooth as silk with the ladies and proud of it. Mrs. Juliette Duchenay would think he was a tongue-tied prairie clod if he didn’t start talking.

“Would you like to sit down?” There. That was a start.

“Thank you.” The faintest touch of pink rose in her cheeks again. A discreet tug made him realize he still was holding her hand and he let her fingers slide away from his, an unsettling feeling of regret lingering. He’d liked holding her hand. The color in her cheeks deepened as he held a chair for her, and he wondered if the skin there felt as baby-soft and fine as it looked. She smiled at him as he seated her at one of the small white tables. “Thank you for wearing your hat. It made you easy to find.”

He nodded, not about to tell her that he’d done this nearly a dozen times with prior candidates, all of whom had been unsuitable. “You’re welcome.” He indicated the food counters ranged around the walls beyond the potted palms and white pillars. “Would you like something to eat or drink?”

“No, thank you.” She shook her head. She glanced at the elegant gold watch on her slim wrist. “I’m on my break, so I don’t have much time. Why don’t we just talk?”

He nodded. Took a deep breath. “Why did you answer my ad?” Why would a woman like you need to marry a stranger?

Delicately arched eyebrows drew together in a perplexed expression. “I…it was an impulse, if you want to know the truth.”

“And how are you feeling about the impulse now? I’m not interested in something short-term, Mrs. Duchenay. This would be a permanent arrangement.”

“Please call me Juliette. I’m still interested, Mr.— Marty.”

Her eyes were soft and luminous. He could look into those eyes for the rest of his life without any trouble, any trouble at all.

“Good.” He wanted to take her hand, to touch her again. God, her skin was soft. Was she that soft all over? He could hardly wait to find out.

“So,” he said. “You work in the mall.”

“Yes,” she said. “And you’re a rancher.”

Even if he hadn’t put his occupation in the ad, he knew it wasn’t a hard call. His skin was tanned from his work outdoors, especially since they’d had a mild fall until the recent big snow. No, as he surveyed his big mitts, he saw there was no way anyone could mistake his hands—scarred from encounters with cranky cattle, barbwire, buffaloberries, splintered wood and hammers that missed their mark—for a city boy’s.

“Beef or sheep?” his pretty lady asked.

“Beef. My brother and I have an outfit near the Badlands. Our ranch is called the Lucky Stryke.”

“Have you always lived there?”

“All my life. Are you from this area?” He was pretty sure she wasn’t, but he couldn’t figure out where her accent might have been from.

She hesitated for a moment so brief that he could have imagined it. Then she said, “No. I’ve only been in Rapid City a short while. I was born in California but my family moved around a lot so I don’t really call anyplace ‘home.”’

“Where do you work?”

“At the moment, in a women’s clothing shop. But I’d really love to work in a bookstore. Of course, I’d never make any money because I’d spend it all on books.”

Marty laughed. “I know the feeling. What do you like to read?”

She shrugged. “Just about anything I can get my hands on. All types of fiction, nonfiction, magazines…my only requirement is that it be well written and gripping.”

“So that leaves out cereal boxes,” he said.

She smiled again, and again it hit him like a physical contact from a fist. Had he ever seen a woman as classically beautiful? As vibrant?

“Don’t bet on that,” she said, and it took him a moment to remember they were talking about cereal boxes.

There was another small silence, and he smiled at her across the table, enchanted with her feminine presence.

She shook her head. “I can’t believe you have to advertise for a wife.”

He shrugged. “There aren’t that many women who want to live in the back of beyond with a lot of cows.”

“Exactly what are you looking for?” she asked him. “What do you want a wife to do?”

Marty hesitated. Then he shrugged. “No point in sugar-coating it,” he said. “I work long hours, mostly outdoors. I need someone to keep my house clean and in good shape, wash and mend clothes, make meals and take care of my daughter. Maybe plant a garden in the summer and help with the stock sometimes.”

Her eyes widened. “I’m willing to work and I like to cook but you might have to teach me a few things about gardening and animals.”

So she was a city girl, just as he’d suspected. “I could do that.”

“How old is your daughter?”

“She’ll be five next June. Her mother passed away two years ago and—” The expected pang of grief and guilt clutched at his heart as it always did, and he suppressed the flood of emotion that threatened. “—and she really needs a woman’s hand,” he finished quietly.

Juliette nodded, her face serious and sympathetic.

Marty shrugged his shoulders, wishing he were another man in another time, meeting this woman without all the baggage that came with his life. Then he immediately was overwhelmed by guilt. How could he even be thinking stuff like that when he’d once promised to love Lora forever? Until death. He wanted to squeeze his skull between his palms until all the contrary notions settled down. “It doesn’t sound very attractive, I know—”

“It does to me,” she said.

He stared at her. “It does?”

“I think I’d like being a housewife.” She smiled. “That is what you mean, right?”

“Yes. Although I think the politically correct term today is ‘domestic engineer.”’

She laughed. “I like the sound of that.” Then she glanced at her watch again. “I’d better be getting back to work.”

“Afraid you’ll get fired?”

She smiled serenely. “No. I’m a good sales-woman.”

“Do you like it?”

She shrugged. “It’s a job. One of life’s necessary evils.”

“Unless you marry me.” Spoken straight out like that, it sounded so…intimate. His mind shot right to dark nights in a warm bed.

She raised her gaze to his, and for the longest moment he forgot everything around him and just let himself wallow in those eyes. Was she thinking what he was thinking?

“I really have to go,” she said softly, rising.

As she started out of the food court, he grabbed his hat and followed, taking her elbow when they reached the central walkway that led back to the rest of the mall. After the crowded café area, it seemed positively spacious.

He could feel the fragile bones of her arm beneath his fingers and the warmth of her skin. She seemed tiny walking beside him, and he acknowledged the attraction knotting his gut, making his body stir in response. His heart still belonged to Lora, but his body knew she’d been gone for two years. No question about it. “I’ll walk you back to work,” he said.

“All right.” She smiled up at him. “It’s just down this way.”

They strolled down the mall, passing specialty shops that sold jewelry from the Black Hills, apparel for women in the family way, sunglasses and leather goods.

Her feet slowed as another store on the far corner of the square into which they walked came in sight, and she paused just outside the entrance. “This is it.”

He looked from her to the displays in the windows, and into the quietly elegant shop behind her. “This is where you work?”

“This is it,” she said primly.

He felt a slow flush begin at his neck as the stirring in his jeans became a potential embarrassment. The sign proclaimed, “Hidden Pleasures,” and he could see why they wanted to keep it hidden. Juliette worked in a store that sold women’s underwear! And not just any women’s underwear. Filmy, see-through stuff, edged with ruffles and lace, cut into amazingly brief garments, trimmed in satin and velvet—underwear that made a man dream of a woman wearing it. Or not wearing it.

“Marty?” Juliette was smiling that smile that wiped out all his brain cells.

He looked down at her, feeling sheepish and embarrassed. “Sorry,” he said. “I was just a little surprised.”

She put out her hand. “Will I hear from you again?”

Would she hear from him again? Did the earth rotate around the sun? He needed to spend a little more time with her before he was sure, but he already could imagine Juliette in his home.

“How about a drink after you get off work?” he asked. “We could get to know each other a little more.”

Her smiled faded and anxiety carved a little crease in her brow. Then it cleared. “Well, maybe just one short one,” she said. “I have some things to take care of at home.”

“All right,” he said. “See you at—what time?”

“Seven. I’ll meet you right here.” She turned to enter the store, then peeked at him over her shoulder and raised her fingers to wave before she walked away.

And he was damned glad her back was turned because there was no way he could control the way his body reacted to that little smile. Hastily he swung away and headed down the mall, willing himself to think of anything, everything, except women and bedrooms.

And his upcoming date with Juliette Duchenay, manager of a sexy underwear store and his potential wife.

He reappeared at twenty minutes before seven.

Juliette caught sight of Marty through the windows of the store as she rang up a purchase and bagged items for a customer. He had settled his large frame on one of the benches in an arrangement of fake trees in the center of the wide walk-through, and as she watched, he opened the bag he carried and pulled out a book.

She didn’t know what she’d expected from a man who would advertise for a wife, but Marty surely was the last man she’d ever have imagined would need to do such a thing. He was incredibly handsome. Unlike her own straight, nearly cornsilk tresses, his hair was a chestnut-colored halo with wayward curls tipped by shining gold, the color probably enhanced by the hours he spent outside on his ranch. His hat lay on the bench beside him, and there was the suggestion of a hat ring crimped into his hair.

His eyes were the purest sky-blue she’d ever seen, made even bluer by the tan that made his skin glow. He wore a heavy leather jacket, but beneath the practical jeans and Western-style workshirt his body was broad-shouldered, slim-hipped and long-legged; in short, incredibly sexy.

She’d looked over her shoulder one last time after she’d waved at him earlier and caught his back view moving off down the mall. His jeans molded his butt and encased his muscular legs and she wondered what he’d be like as a lover. That thought made her pause.

Was she seriously considering marriage to a perfect stranger?

She already knew the answer. If it had been any other man in that food court, she’d probably have been polite and friendly and told him she’d made a mistake. After all, she’d had misgivings the very day she’d mailed her letter, and when she’d received an answer she’d nearly chickened out altogether.

But now…now everything had changed.

When her gaze had met Marty’s for the first time in the food court, something had pulled into an almost painful ball in her abdomen and she’d had to remember to take another breath. Had she ever been attracted to Rob like this? She must have been once. Of course she had been. The twin strains of widowhood and motherhood probably just had dulled the edges of her memories.

Sex appeal. That’s all it was. And she should be dismissing it as fast as she would have with any other man. But now she’d met Marty, and found that the man beneath the appealing exterior was every bit as appealing in personality.

She liked him. She liked him a lot.

Of course she did, she thought as she moved to the back of the store to assist another customer. Why else would she have called her baby-sitter and asked her if she’d mind staying later than usual tonight? She normally was fanatical about getting home to Bobby. And a part of her felt torn even now. Before he’d been born, she couldn’t imagine the powerful maternal feelings that dictated her every move. Now…she thought of nearly everything in terms of how it would affect her son.

She must be crazy. But Marty appealed to her in a powerful way that she couldn’t resist, couldn’t walk away from. He seemed like such a good man. He’d make her son a wonderful father. If she didn’t reach out and take this chance, she could be missing something important. Something that could change her life forever.

The last few minutes until closing time stretched interminably until finally the last customer was walking out of the store.

Marty lifted his head, and his gaze sought hers. When her eyes locked with his, she drew in a breath. He didn’t smile, didn’t move, but that look seared her with an unspoken possessiveness and deep in her stomach, nerves she hadn’t known existed began to hum with awareness.

The moment vibrated between them long after the exchange of gazes ended. He waited while she locked the heavy barred doors of the shop, and then he escorted her to the parking lot. He invited her to go with him to a popular watering hole whose name she recognized from overhearing the conversations of some of her co-workers, and when she asked him if she could follow his truck in her own car, he didn’t appear to mind.

The bar was large and noisy and crowded. Marty settled her at a small table next to the dance floor and went to the bar. When he returned with the soda she’d requested, she was surprised to see that he carried one for himself.

Apparently he noticed, because he said, “I have a two-hour drive home tonight. No drinks for me.”

She nodded. “Good practice.”

He indicated the energetic couples doing a two-step around the dance floor. “Do you do this?”

She shook her head. “I’ve watched, but no, I’ve never tried it.”

“Then it’s time you did.” Marty clasped her wrist and started for the floor.

“Marty! I’ll step on your toes!”

He stopped and looked back over his shoulder, and his lips curved, then parted as he laughed. “You’re just a little thing. I’ll hold you high so your feet don’t touch the floor.”

She smiled and let him pull her out amid the dancers, but when he faced her and held out his arms, she suddenly realized she would be stepping into the embrace of a man she barely knew. Other women do it all the time, she told herself. It’s just dancing.

But deep inside she was afraid that with this man, it might be much more than that. And when his arm slipped around her waist and his brawny strength encircled her, it felt so right that she automatically relaxed and let him lead her.

They danced several dances. Marty taught her the steps, patiently reminding her until she had mastered his movements. He was a strong lead; all she had to do was stay loose and let him put her where he wanted her.

She was very conscious of the words of one romantic song, and when Marty pulled her in and tucked her head under his chin, she could have stayed there all night. They swayed to the three-step, waltzing slowly on the crowded floor, and she fought the urge to press herself closer, to burrow into his warmth and strength and let him take care of her.

“There’s something I’ve got to ask you.” His voice was a low rumble above her head, and she tilted her face up so that she could see his expression.

“What?” Yes, you can kiss me. Please kiss me!

Marty lowered his head until his lips brushed her ear. “Do you wear that stuff you sell?”

His tone was deep and husky, and his hands drew her even closer as his lips lightly caressed the outline of her ear. Arousal rushed through her so fast that she sagged against him; his arms tightened and his hands slipped over her until she was held flush against every inch of his big body. Every hard, male inch.

She swallowed. “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.” Good heavens, Juliette! Whatever possessed you?

His feet stopped moving for an instant. Then he twirled her in a deep turn again, molding her body to his, and she heard him chuckle. “All right. Do you have a time frame in mind here?”

She gazed up at him. “A time frame?”

“For a wedding,” he prompted. “I’d like to marry you.”

She opened her mouth. Then she shut it again without a word. Heavens! She’d expected to have more time to think about this. “I’d like to marry you, too,” she said, “But—”

“How does Friday sound?” he asked her. “I can get the license and make the arrangements, and we’ll start the new year with a wedding.”

Her eyes widened. “This coming Friday? That’s—that’s soon!”

He nodded, smiling at her reaction. “I don’t have a reason to wait. Do you?”

She started to say yes, but the word wouldn’t come out. “Well, uh…I guess not.”

“Good.” He took a deep breath and, held as she was against him, the action lifted her clear of the floor for an instant before he set her down again. Automatically she glanced at her watch. It couldn’t be nearly nine. Could it? Good heavens, she had to get home to Bobby! Ruefully she thought that a week could have passed while she was in Marty’s arms and she wouldn’t have noticed.

“I have to go,” she murmured regretfully.

“Yeah, I’ll be sorry if I don’t get going, too.”

But he made no move to let her loose.

Finally she stepped back, slipping her hands from his. “I really do have to go.”

Marty reached over the railing separating the dance floor from the tables and snagged his jacket and her long winter coat, holding it for her to slip on before he shrugged into his own. Then, as if he’d been doing it for years, he took her hand and led her out of the bar to the parking lot, where they’d parked their vehicles not far from each other.

He walked with her until they reached her car, stopping beside the driver’s door, still holding her hand in a loose clasp.

“Juliette…” His voice was low and hesitant.

“Yes?” She realized she was whispering.

“I feel like I’ve known you a lot longer than just one evening.”

She nodded, glad that he was feeling some of the magic that she was. “I know.”

He stepped closer, took her hands and placed them on the shoulders of his jacket, then pulled her against him. “I’m going to kiss you,” he said.

And as his head blotted out the stars, and the warmth of his arms around her banished the chilly December air, she wondered what she’d have done if he hadn’t. She wanted to feel his mouth moving on hers worse than she’d wanted anything since she was about five and she’d thought she would die if she didn’t get that doll at Disneyland.

His breath feathered across her cheek, and then the kiss she craved began as his lips settled onto hers. The sensation was exquisite. His mouth was warm and firm as it moved over hers, and she slipped her arms up around his neck, offering herself to him in a wordless motion that he clearly recognized.

She’d missed this, the warm physical pleasures two people could share. But as Marty’s tongue flicked along the line of her lips, outlining the shape of her mouth, she had to be honest with herself. She didn’t ever remember feeling quite so shaky, trembly, totally turned on before.

Then his mouth grew bolder, and she stopped thinking as she parted her lips, letting him in. He gathered her closer so that she could feel the arousal confined by his jeans and her breasts were crushed against his chest. She twisted slightly, whimpering a little into his mouth in an unconscious plea for more, and he answered her, bending her backward over his arm. His mouth devoured hers, burning a hot path down her throat as he nuzzled beneath her open jacket, over her throat. He nipped at her collarbone, and she shivered in his arms. Then his mouth slid lower, grazing the upper swell of her breast. He raised a hand and brushed aside the fabric of the little black dress and he was suddenly, shockingly, suckling her breast right through the lacy fabric of her bra.

She arched against him, gasping at the sharp, exciting sensation. Between her legs, an aching throb demanded satisfaction, and she squirmed against him until she was half-astride his thigh.

And then he lifted his head. He went completely still and so did she. He shifted her so that she was upright, facing him, and they both made small sounds of protest as she slid over the rigid flesh at his loins.

She realized her fingers were gripping his hair so hard it must hurt. His chest was heaving, and every muscle in his big body was like steel. Deliberately she relaxed her fists and slid her hands down to rest against his chest. As sanity returned, embarrassment set in. What was Marty thinking of her?

“We’re standing in a parking lot,” he said through gritted teeth. He sighed and pressed his forehead to hers. “The things I want to do to you, with you, aren’t going to happen in a parking lot or any other public place. And they aren’t going to happen until we know each other better.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly, wondering if the heat in her cheeks was producing a glow in the evening light. His restraint touched her. “I don’t—this isn’t the kind of thing—” She stumbled over the words, because they weren’t true. She did, and she had, and very possibly she would have, with him.

“I know.” He pressed a kiss to her brow. “I know. It’s not my style, either.” Then he placed a gentle finger beneath her chin and tipped her face up, inspecting her as she stared back at him, wide-eyed. “Do you have a piece of paper and a pen?”

“Um, I think so.”

“Write down your phone number for me.”

“Oh. All right.” He released her so she could dig through her purse, and she quickly did as he requested. “Here,” she said, handing him the slip of paper. It was still hard to breathe evenly, and she saw the flash of his grin light up his face.

“Glad I’m not the only one who’s having trouble recovering,” he teased, and she had to smile back. Then he drew her into his arms again, holding her loosely with his hands linked at her back. “I’ll call you this week.”

“I won’t be home until late each evening,” she said. “Better wait until after nine.” It wasn’t true, but she wanted to be able to savor his call, and it would be hard to keep her attention undivided if Bobby was awake.

“All right. Then we can talk more about Friday.”

“Marty…” She couldn’t keep the troubled note from her voice. “Friday is awfully soon. This is crazy!”

He nodded. “If we were teenagers with no experience, I’d agree. But we’re adults. I’ve been thinking of remarrying for quite a while, and I know what I want.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “I want you.”

And I want you, her heart answered. I love you. She barely stopped herself from uttering the words and she stood stock-still, too shocked to move. Could she really be in love with a man she’d met a few hours ago?

Of course she couldn’t. Infatuation, that’s what it was. Nobody fell in love that fast.

Did they?

He unclasped his hands and turned her toward her car. When she pulled out her keys, he took them from her and unlocked the door, then helped her in with a chivalrous grace that would have charmed her if she hadn’t fallen so hard already. “Think about it and let me know.”

He leaned in and took her lips in one final kiss, thrusting his tongue between her lips and demanding her response until she was straining forward as far as her seat belt would allow, trying to get closer to him. But long before she was satisfied, he drew his head away. His rough fingers caressed her cheek, and then he stood back, shutting her door and waiting until her engine started before he strode across the lot to his pickup truck.

She watched him climb in, then realized he was waiting for her to move before leaving the lot, and she was touched by his thoughtfulness.

A squirming little sensation of guilt wormed its way into her euphoria, though, as she took a left out of the exit and drove toward her apartment. She hadn’t told him about her baby.

She would, she assured herself, evading the guilt. It was just that everything had been so new, so special. So perfect. She’d been prepared to graciously back out of the meeting, had had no intention of actually considering an arranged marriage, but once she’d met Marty…

Dreamily, she smiled as she parked near her building. She’d tell him about Bobby soon. And she was willing to bet she was worrying for nothing. Marty must be a good father to his daughter, to be going to such lengths to improve her life. Surely he’d be equally good to her son.