Читать книгу The Princess And The Cowboy - Martha Shields, Martha Shields - Страница 10

Josie’s eyes widened and she pulled away, but only slightly. Then she gave him a nervous smile. “Yes.”

“Candy, will you come on?”

She glanced at the rodeo director, who stood in a wide two-point stance several feet away.

“Hey, you’re not Candy.”

Buck ignored the man as he studied Josie’s lovely face. Her black eyebrows and dark complexion told him she wasn’t a real blonde, but that didn’t bother him. Few trailer-park queens were. What made him hesitate was that she’d agreed to marry him so quickly, without asking a single question about his health or background.

Was it possible she knew he was Hardin Winford Buchanan II, son of the third richest man in Sacramento and multimillionaire in his own right?

He shook off the notion. He’d done his damnedest to keep his background secret from the rodeo world. More likely she figured he asked every girl he met to kiss him and marry him for luck. Cowboys did have a reputation for being superstitious.

“You don’t think I’m serious,” he said.

“Are you?” she returned.

“What the hell’s going on here, Buck?” the rodeo director demanded. “What’s happened to Candy?”

“One second, Hal.” Buck’s gaze never left Josie’s intense amber eyes. “I have a few conditions.”

She smiled wryly. “So do I.”

“We’ll talk about it on the way to Reno. It’s just a couple of hours away, and we can get married tonight, if we haven’t changed our minds by the time we get there.”

She nodded. “All right. I’d like to leave as soon as possible.”

Buck nodded, then turned to face the rodeo director, who watched them with a disgusted expression. “Sorry, Hal. This here’s Josie. She’s Candy’s substitute.”

“What? Where’s Candy?” The tall, gaunt man held his palms toward them. “Never mind. I don’t want to know. As long as I got someone to carry the Dodge flag, I don’t care. Mount up, Josie. It’s show time.”

Buck glanced down at Josie, who stood in the circle of his arm. “You ready?”

She took a deep breath. “I guess so.”

She guided the reins over the mare’s neck as she moved down its side to mount.

Unable to resist the opportunity, Buck set his hands on her hips and lifted her onto the saddle. She was tall and though slender, she was no featherweight. Not that lifting her was any effort for him. Like most steer wrestlers, he was a big man, and he liked the solid feel of her.

With one hand on her knee, he grabbed her hands with his other as she gathered the reins. “Meet me here after I ride, okay?”

She sat ramrod straight in the saddle and looked down at him like a princess from her throne. Her golden-brown eyes searched his face as if he were an animal she’d never seen before. “Will you kiss me again…for luck?”

The contrast of her haughty posture and provocative words made desire stab deep into his gut. “Better not, sweetheart. I might not be able to stop. But I’ll definitely take you up on that offer later. Hell, if we’re getting married, we’re going to be doing a lot more than kissing.”

Crimson brushed across her cheeks, but the smile she gave him was as brilliant as the arena lights. “I’ll meet you here.”

He released her, and with a gentle kick, she sent the mare toward the gate where Hal was waving her on frantically.

Buck pushed back his hat and watched her pause to lift the Dodge Truck flag, then maneuver into place beside another princess, who watched her curiously.

Will you kiss me again?

Was it possible he’d finally found a woman who didn’t feel the need to play games? One who was unafraid to match his libido kiss for kiss, caress for caress, thrust for thrust?

And to top it off, she was beautiful, sexy and a trashy trailer-park queen to boot.

Okay, not a queen, just a princess, but that would do.

He hoped like hell his instincts were right. If they were, he couldn’t wait to take her home tomorrow night to meet the folks.

With a smug smile, Buck turned back toward his horse.

His mother was going to have a heifer.

“Four-point-six seconds!” the announcer bellowed over the loudspeaker. The sound carried easily to where Josie hid among the trucks and trailers. “The best bulldogging time of the evening, folks. Buck Buchanan rode like a man possessed! Let’s give him a great big hand. He’s in the money tonight.”

Dieu merci, he was fin—

No. Thank God he was finished. If her charade was going to be successful, she had to weed the French words from her vocabulary. Thank God her English was unaccented and full of American slang and idioms, courtesy of all the years she’d known Melissa.

Josie peered around the cab of a truck, but couldn’t see Buck approaching. She hoped he hadn’t changed his mind.

She needed to get away, fast.

After sending the mare she’d borrowed back over the fence toward the Porter stables, she’d spotted a young woman carrying the Versace gown. Despite a red flush on her cheeks and neck, the woman didn’t look sick at all. In fact, she was obviously angry and looking for her stolen clothes.

Then a local sheriff’s car pulled up at the edge of the parking lot. When two deputies began showing the people milling around a picture, Josie had to assume they were looking for her.

So far she’d avoided being found by either Candy or the cops. But what would she do if Buck Buchanan didn’t show up? What if he’d changed his—

Her attention was snagged by the swaggering gait of a tall, muscular man leading a horse from the arena. Though he was silhouetted by the bright lights, she knew it was Buck.

More than relief flowed through her. As she remembered how his big, hard body had felt against hers, how his lips had nearly caused her to spontaneously combust, her heart began pounding like the drums that had welcomed her on her state visit to Kenya. The sensation distracted her so much she didn’t realize he was looking for her until he called her name.

“Sssshhhh!”

Buck peered into the shadows on the parking lot and saw a piquant face surrounded by enormous blond hair peeking around the cab of a truck. Relief flooded through him. “What are you—”

“Come here.” She waved him over. “Hurry, please.”

Her impatience made him recall the desire biting at him ever since they’d parted. He grinned as he joined her behind the truck. “Want another kiss, sweetheart? Well, here I come—ready, willing and more than able.”

She grabbed his arm and hauled him into her hiding place, glancing nervously behind him as she did. “Can we leave now, please?”

A little miffed that she hadn’t wanted the embrace he’d been craving for over an hour, he pushed his hat back. “I reckon. What did you do with your mare?”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Oh. I had to give her back. She wasn’t mine.”

He nodded. Borrowing mounts at rodeos was as common as muddy jeans from dirt landings. Still, he had the feeling something wasn’t altogether what it should be. Josie didn’t act like a woman excited about getting hitched. She didn’t seem excited at all. She seemed distracted, worried…almost scared.

He cussed as the most likely possibility hit him. “You running away from something, sweetheart?”

Her only answer was to look away guiltily.

Damn. He knew his trailer-park queen was too good to be true. “What is it? The law? Or am I going to have a jealous husband breathing down my neck any minute?”

She was clearly horrified. “Would I be marrying you if I was already married?”

He shrugged. “It’s not legal, but it’s been done.”

She shook her head vehemently, which made her blond hair slip a bit to the side, enough to release a dark lock of hair.

Buck smiled. A wig. Who wore wigs but old women and trailer-park queens?

She really was the kind of woman he was looking for.

“Nothing like that, I promise,” she insisted. “It’s…my father. He wants me to marry a man I don’t want to marry. I have to get away from here as soon as possible. Please help me.”

Her obvious anxiety and the fact that she didn’t evade the question made Buck believe her. Or maybe it was because his own parents were trying to do the same thing to him.

He drew a finger across the satin smoothness of her jaw. “I bet the guy’s rich, isn’t he?”

She nodded solemnly. “Will you help me? Please? I don’t have any money at the moment, but I do have a couple of pieces of jewelry I can sell that should bring enough money to pay you.”

“Pay me?” Buck chuckled at the ridiculous notion. At least it proved she didn’t know who he was. Relieved she wasn’t a gold digger planning to alimony him out of his money, he slipped his free hand around her back and bent to kiss her temple. “That’s cute, sweetheart. Of course I’ll help you, but you don’t have to pay me.”

She craned her neck so she could see him. “Yes, I do. You’ll understand more when I tell you what my conditions are. But please, can we talk about them on the way to Reno?”

“I just have one question. How old are you?”

She looked puzzled, but answered, “I’ll be twenty-five in three weeks. Why?”

“You’re legal. Good. Just checking.” He gathered his gelding’s reins closer. “You have any suitcases?”

She shook her head.

Hell, she really was running away. “Let me load Agamemnon and pick up my check, then we’ll head on out.”

“If you’ll show me where your trailer is, I’ll load your gelding while you pick up the check. It’ll be faster.”

His gaze swept her worried face. “Someone’s here right now, looking for you, aren’t they?”

She hesitated, then nodded.

“Hell, my check’s not that big. We’ll just go ahead and—”

“No.” She placed a hand on his arm. “You need your check. Melis—Um, I know how rodeo cowboys live.”

He wasn’t going to tell her that he always signed his rodeo checks over to the next charity he came across. His only stipulation was that the donation remain anonymous. He didn’t want to let his rodeo buddies know he needed these checks about as much as the Double Star needed hills.

“All right.” He pointed out his red Chevrolet truck attached to a two-horse trailer with a built-in camper. Both were battered, with chipped paint. He’d spent several days making them look that way. Inside they weren’t fancy, but both held all the basic comforts a man or horse could want. “There’s my rig. It’s not locked.”

She nodded and moved her hands to Aggie’s reins. She stroked the horse’s nose as she let him nuzzle her hand to smell her scent, then she moved to each side of the gelding so he could see her out of both eyes. “Sounds like you performed well tonight. You deserve a good rubdown.”

The evidence that she knew and respected horses made Buck’s admiration rise even more. He brushed his mouth against hers. “I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

Even if he had to hound the rodeo secretary to sign his check.

“Isn’t that wig uncomfortable?”

Startled by Buck’s question, Josie turned from the side mirror where she’d been watching for vehicles that might be following them. They’d left Auburn twenty minutes ago, heading into the mountains toward the Nevada state line. Up to now, Buck had been quiet, intent on guiding his rig onto the 180.

“Wig?” She had a moment of panic, having been convinced she’d had everyone fooled.

For an answer, he reached across and tugged at a strand of dark hair lying on her cheek. He pulled until the long tress was free from beneath the wig. “You’re not a blonde.”

Her stomach fluttered at the way he was caressing the black strand, and she drew it from the masculine fingers. “Does that matter?”

“Not at all.” He sent a glance down her form. “It just makes me wonder what else isn’t real.”

Since he was eyeing her overly generous bust, she sighed. He might as well know the worst now. First she eased the wig off her head. She couldn’t suppress a moan of relief when the pressure of the tight band holding it in place was gone.

Strands of hair escaped her once-perfect chignon, but she couldn’t make any repairs at the moment other than pushing them off her face. Then, casting an uneasy glance at Buck, she reached inside the sequined weskit and began pulling tissues from the bodice.

When he saw what she was doing, Buck smiled, then chuckled. The next time he glanced over, he started laughing out loud. The more tissues she took out, the harder he laughed.

When she was finally finished, she glared at him.

He looked at her, and kept laughing.

A smile tugged at Josie’s lips, and when she glanced down at the mountain of tissues on her lap, she let her lips curve.

“Is there anything left of you in there?” he asked, wiping at tears of mirth.

Josie held the weskit against her bust. “Not all that much, I’m afraid. I guess it was false advertising, but I needed a disguise. If you want to back out of the deal, I’ll understand.”

“No, I definitely want in.”

His voice had such a husky quality, she glanced at him. The hot looks he was sending her between glances at the highway surprised her. She’d caught looks of unbridled lust on men before, but never directed at her. No man had been so lacking in manners as to openly desire Princess Joséphene of Montclaire. It just wasn’t done.

Until now.

A wave of heat washed through her, but not from embarrassment. For the first time in her life, she felt like a woman—a sexy woman. She’d had no idea that being the object of a man’s desire would feel so wonderful, so liberating, so wanton.

“You—” She had to clear her throat before she could speak properly. “You still want to get married?”

His gaze rested on hers, then shifted back to the highway. “Do you?”

“I…” She turned her own gaze to the line of headlights coming at them. “As I said, I have some very specific conditions.”

“Such as?”

“Well—please don’t take this personally—I only need a husband for a few months. But at least you won’t be stuck with me for long.”

Buck glanced at her sharply. “A few months? Why?”

“I…I’d rather not go into the specifics. Suffice it to say that I need to prevent my…father from marrying me to someone else.”

Buck was amazed at how her situation was like his own. “How many months are we talking about?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know exactly. At least two. Perhaps as many as six or seven. It depends on how long it takes me to—”

She cut herself off so quickly, he had to probe. “To what?”

“To…make other arrangements.”

“What other arrangements?”

“Does it matter?”

“If I’m going to be involved in this, yes, it does.”

She cleared her throat. “All right, then. I have to find a husband. A real husband, I mean. One who…meets certain qualifications.”

“Which I lack.”

“Please don’t take this personally.”

Buck frowned when he realized that he wasn’t particularly insulted. What he didn’t like was the thought of Josie marrying someone else. He didn’t like it one bit. He felt almost…possessive, which didn’t make any sense. He’d only known her a few hours.

Then a possibility he liked even less occurred to him. “So you’re wanting a marriage in name only.”

“No,” she said quickly. “I…it needs to be consummated. That is, if you don’t mind.”

Mind? Hell, if no sex had been one of her conditions, he’d have put her out at the next town. She’d had him so aroused from the instant he laid eyes on her, he was having trouble convincing himself not to pull the truck off at the next exit and down the first dark road so he could have her right now. He’d never be able to keep his hands off her for a couple of months.

“No.” He shifted in the seat. “I don’t mind.”

She sighed, as if she’d been worried about it. “Good.”

“Any more conditions?” he asked.

“Just one.”

“And that would be?”

“We need to have a prenuptial agreement. Not that I don’t trust you, but—”

“You don’t know me.”

“Exactly. You don’t mind?”

“A prenuptial saying that what’s mine is mine and what’s yours is yours, and we don’t get a nickel of each other’s money or assets, such as they are.” He smiled. “Sweetheart, the only assets I can see that you have are what God gave you.”

“I have enough to pay you five thousand dollars for your help.” She sounded a bit offended.

Buck chuckled. Five thousand dollars. He’d been prepared to offer her fifty times that to marry him for a few months. Should he tell her? No. Let her think he was doing her a favor. However… “I’m not taking a dime of your money, Josie. So put that thought right out of your pretty head.”

“But—”

“I don’t need it. I don’t want it. I’m not taking it.”

“If you’re certain…”

“Absolutely. Any more conditions?”

“No.” She sighed. “I guess that’s that, then, isn’t it?”

“I guess so.”

“We’re getting married?”

“I’m game if you are.”

“Didn’t you have some conditions?”

“Not anymore, sweetheart.”

The purr of the engine as the car ran the dark highway was the only sound for several seconds. Then Josie said, “I like it when you call me that.”

“Sweetheart?”

“Yes.”

Her soft confession touched him. He reached across the cab to capture her hand. “No one’s ever called you sweetheart before?”

“No.”

“Good.” He laced his fingers through hers. “C’mon over here.”

He dragged her across the bench seat, against his side.

He was on the way to Reno to marry a beautiful, sexy trailer-park princess. He couldn’t wait to see his mother’s face when he walked into his house tomorrow.

Yep. The next few months were going to be very interesting.

He felt as if his whole body was smiling.

“I now pronounce you man and wife.”

Josie froze, staring at the bald justice of the peace through the filmy veil, the only part of the bridal costume she wore.

Wife.

Mon Dieu. What have I done?

She’d married a total stranger for the sake of Montclaire. A man she’d known only a few hours.

With the help of a penlight from his glove compartment, she’d scribbled a brief prenuptial, which they’d both signed, with the justice of the peace and his wife as witnesses. But a prenuptial wouldn’t protect her from any vice he might have a tendency toward. She didn’t know anything about this man.

Was her country worth such a personal sacrifice?

The justice cleared his throat. “You may kiss the bride.”

“Finally,” Buck murmured.

Josie allowed him to turn her in his arms.

He fought a moment with the veil. “Why the hell did I insist you wear this thing?”

Finally, he cleared a path to her face. His gaze searched hers for a long moment, probing, hunting—for what, she didn’t know. Then he smiled. “I told you I’d kiss you again.”

His lips touched hers, and all thoughts of Montclaire flew right out of her head.

Josie woke to the soft sounds of birds chirping and waves lapping gently at a shoreline. Accustomed to hearing the ocean only when a rough storm passed over the Mediterranean, she opened her eyes to find herself curled up in a narrow bed sandwiched between a metal wall and a cabinet with a tiny sink.

Sitting abruptly, she noticed how restrictive her clothes were and glanced down. The stars and stripes of the sequined top gleamed dully in the sunlight trying to break through the tiny blinds on the tiny windows. The sight of the stolen clothes brought everything back.

She swept her left hand in front of her face. A plain gold band purchased at the Reno wedding chapel circled her ring finger.

She was married. To a cowboy.

Panic and relief hit her simultaneously, so hard she couldn’t breathe. She was on her own, with no bodyguards, no royal trappings, nothing familiar to protect her.

On her own. Though it had called her like a siren song since she was a girl, the concept was foreign to Josie. She’d never, ever been truly on her own. Not one single moment of her life.

But she was now. Since she’d used the English version of her name on the wedding certificate, no one knew she was Princess Joséphene of Montclaire. She could do anything she wanted, act any way she wanted, be anyone she wanted.

Smiling with a euphoric sense of freedom, Josie fell back onto the pillow, only to discover that the tiny bed wasn’t quite long enough for her five-foot-nine-inch frame.

“Ow.”

She rubbed her head. This must be the camper built onto the front of Buck’s horse trailer. He must have carried her in here after she’d fallen asleep in the truck. She hadn’t meant to go to sleep, but she’d had an exhausting week.

Josie wondered vaguely where she was. Lake Tahoe? That’s where Buck said they were heading when they left the chapel. He knew of a campground on the shore of the lake that had special spaces for campers with horses.

Not that it mattered where she was. She was free. There was no way Bonifay could trace her on the road with Buck Buchanan.

No, not Buck. What was the name he’d put on the wedding certificate?

Hardin Winford Buchanan.

He’d given her a hard look when he gave the court clerk his name, as if he expected her to make fun of it. She’d squeezed his arm to reassure him. Who was she—Princess Joséphene Eugénie Béatrix Marguerite Isabeau Francoeur—to make fun of such a name?

Buck fit him better, just like Josie fit her.

She craned her neck to peer around the camper.

Speaking of Buck, where was he? Why weren’t they in the same bed? She’d always had the impression that middleclass American couples slept together.

She glanced at the floor, then a movement higher caught her eye. Two large, bare feet poked out from a sheet on the other side of the trailer.

He must have put her to bed, not wanting to disturb her sleep with husbandly demands.

A smile drifted across her face. He might be just a cowboy, but her husband had the manners of the finest gentlemen she’d ever met.

Not that she would have minded being disturbed. As a matter of fact, they needed to proceed with the consummation as soon as possible.

Heat stung her cheeks, and she sighed. She wished they’d accomplished it last night, so she wouldn’t have to worry about it. Now, how was she going to bring it up?

Perhaps she wouldn’t have to. Perhaps Buck would take matters in hand.

She giggled at the unintentional pun. His hands had seemed more than capable of taking care of matters last night.

But his caresses and kisses weren’t the only reason she liked him. They’d talked all the way into Reno. He seemed fascinated by everything she’d said, just as she’d been with the details he revealed about his life.

What felt so good, however, was knowing his fascination wasn’t because she was a princess. To him, she was an ordinary woman.

How often had she longed to be just an ordinary woman? To meet a man who would see beyond the brilliance of her crown to the woman beneath?

She frowned as she realized Buck didn’t know she had a crown. She wasn’t being honest with him, but she couldn’t risk it. Not yet. Not until she was certain what kind of man she was dealing with.

When she didn’t surface after a few days, her face would be splashed over every newspaper and television in America. Bonifay would offer a reward—a large one.

Melissa had told her that most rodeo contestants lived from paycheck to paycheck. From what she’d seen so far, she didn’t think Buck was the kind of man to be seduced by money. He’d refused her offer of payment, after all. But she’d only known him a few hours.

She still couldn’t believe she’d married a perfect stranger. Yet there was something about Buck that she’d trusted immediately. Though she couldn’t pinpoint a reason for her trust, somehow she was certain he wouldn’t harm her. When she first looked into his deep blue eyes, it was as if she’d known him all her life.

Was it because his eyes reminded her of the ocean surrounding Montclaire? Was it because his height and build reminded her of her father? Was it the way she felt when he’d kissed her after they’d said “I do”?

Remembering that moment, she closed her eyes to savor the things he made her feel—even hours after the contact. The scent of a hardworking man blending with the scent of a hardworking horse—she couldn’t imagine anything sexier. The caress of his warm breath on her cheek, the way his lips molded to hers.

She moaned softly as she traced her fingers over her lips.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

Her eyes flew open to see Buck sitting up on the elevated bed.

Her breath caught.

Bent slightly because his head and long torso wouldn’t fit in the cramped space, he yawned and reached a muscular, naked arm up to scratch his shaggy, dark brown hair. But his arm wasn’t all that was naked. Every part of him that she could see was nude—from the wide, well-defined expanse of his chest to the strong legs ending in long, higharched feet.

Only his hips were covered. A sheet appeared to be all that lay between her gaze and his most private parts.

The warmth she’d been feeling at the memory of his kiss intensified, especially when she realized she wanted to snatch the sheet away so she could see all of him.

Never in her life had she experienced desire so sharp it felt like raw, aching need. Desire to see a naked man.

But not just any naked man. This one.

Her passion was so unfamiliar and acute, it alarmed her. Princesses didn’t have feelings like this.

Josie’s mind caught on her words.

Princesses might not have feelings like this, but ordinary women did—and that’s what she was until she returned to Montclaire. She knew she’d have to go home eventually, but until then she wasn’t going to have any more princess thoughts. She was going to enjoy every single, solitary minute of being an ordinary woman. The memory of these few weeks would have to last the rest of her life.

“You look kinda flushed, sweetheart. You too hot?” he asked.

Josie gave in to the need to giggle, something Joséphene would’ve suppressed. If only he knew how hot—and why. “I’m…fine.”

He gave her a puzzled look, then started to slide down to the narrow sliver of floor below him. As the sheet began to slide off his hips, however, he stopped. “Maybe you’d better use the bathroom first.”

She would much rather have enjoyed the show, but since he didn’t seem inclined to give her one, she realized she was in dire need of facilities. That there were any nearby surprised her. “There’s a bathroom in here?”

He pointed to the wall behind her. “You’ll have to fold up your bunk so you can open the door. I don’t have the water hooked up for a shower yet. It was late when we pulled in. But there should be enough in the tanks to flush a few times.”

Josie placed her feet on the floor and took a moment to stretch. “Where are we? Lake Tahoe?”

He rubbed a hand over his morning beard. “Yep.”

With a nod acknowledging the information, she stood and turned to fold the bed. She stared at it for a moment, then pulled the top sheet back—he hadn’t bothered with a bottom one. Uncovered, the hinges were obvious. After a minute of bending and stretching, she’d reconfigured the bed into a small couch.

Satisfied with her job, she straightened and turned to smile at Buck. The look she caught on his face trapped the air in her lungs. His eyes were like the hot blue centers of twin flames, and they were burning into her bottom.

She suddenly realized the view she’d given him, bent over in the tight jeans. He would have been able to see every curve of her form.

A shiver ran through her—part excitement, part fear.

He wanted her.

A few men had told her they wanted her, but she hadn’t really believed them. Perhaps because none had looked at her like this. They couldn’t separate the woman from the princess. She could see it in their eyes.

Buck’s own eyes rose slowly to hers, losing none of their heat during the languorous journey.

Mesmerized, Josie stared straight into the face of desire. His need inflamed her own, which excited her and frightened her even more.

“Josie, sweetheart?” he asked in a deeper, huskier voice than she remembered him having.

“Yes?” The word was hesitant, breathless.

“Either go into the bathroom, or climb up here and let’s get on with what we’re both wanting to do.”

Josie didn’t follow either suggestion. The fire burning through her veins had welded her feet to the floor.

She wanted to climb up next to him more than she wanted to see Montclaire again—ever. She wanted to run her hands over the relief map of his chest, to dig her fingers into the thick mane of dark brown hair, to press her mouth to his well-defined lips.

Then she remembered. She could. In fact, she should.

She took one hesitant step toward him. “We are married.”

She didn’t think his gaze could heat up any more, but he proved her wrong. The closer she went, the hotter his gaze grew. Finally she stood at the base of the chest-high bed, feeling as if she were burning alive.

One strong hand gently pushed back a lock of the hair that she vaguely realized was falling in wisps around her face. He glanced somewhere over her shoulder, closed his eyes as if in pain, then cussed and drew back his hand.

“We can’t,” he groaned.

“Oh. I…” Her face flaming from her rejected brazenness, Josie spun away.

Buck grabbed her arm. “Where are you going?”

Too embarrassed even to face him, she waved somewhere in the direction of the bathroom.

“Look at me.”

She couldn’t.

“Sweetheart, look at me.”

She turned slowly until his fingers caught her chin and forced her to look at him. “If we make love now, I won’t want to stop. Probably for days. It’s already noon and—I’m extremely sorry to say—we’ve got to attend a party tonight. We’ve got to stop somewhere along the way and get you a dress to wear. As lovely as that outfit is, it isn’t appropriate for the party.”

Panic raced through her. “Party?”

“Yeah. My mother conned me into it.”

Josie relaxed, picturing a kindly older woman, as oblivious of Montclaire’s existence as her son. “But I don’t have money for a dress.”

He smiled. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’re my wife now. I’ll buy whatever you need.”

She shook her head and dug into her jeans pocket. “I can’t allow you to do that. We’re only going to be married a few months.” She held out a pair of earrings. “I have these to sell. They’re probably worth several thousand dollars.”

Certain they were fake, Buck barely glanced at the earrings she dropped into his hand. She was so cute, thinking her costume jewelry was worth thousands of dollars. He decided not to burst her bubble. He would tell her he pawned them, then give her the money she expected.

“Can we stop at a place where I can sell them?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Let me take care of it.”

She sighed. “I don’t know how to thank you. You’ve helped me so—”

“Hush now.” Bending, he slid a finger under her chin and lifted her mouth to his. “One kiss, sweetheart. Then go.”