Wyoming True - Diana Palmer Page 0,20
it might be a good idea to stop.”
“Stop?” She looked up with wide-eyed curiosity.
His hand pressed hers closer. “What you’re doing with your nails.”
She realized belatedly that she’d been exploring him. She gasped. “Oh, my gosh!”
He stilled her backward movement with a soft chuckle. “Don’t panic,” he said gently. “It wasn’t really a complaint. I’m being protective. Of course, that’s frowned upon in our enlightened modern society.”
“I...don’t mind it,” she replied.
He cocked his head and smiled. “You don’t?”
“I’m not really conventional. At least, I used to be that way. I was always happy, always laughing. I loved life...” Her face clouded.
He put his thumb over her lips. “Bad memories can be nudged aside by good ones,” he pointed out.
“Good...ones?” she repeated. Her heart was racing madly. Her breath was coming in little gasps. Did he know?
He knew. He was experienced and she certainly wasn’t. Not in this. One husband who didn’t like women, a second who made her afraid of men. And this was the result, this quiet, inhibited woman who was frightened of physical contact with a man, any man. But she was reacting to him in a normal, healthy way, and he loved it.
His head bent again. “You know,” he breathed against her parted lips, “the only certain thing in life is its uncertainty.”
“It is?” She was staring at his chiseled mouth as it came closer, not really listening to what he said.
“You never know what to expect.”
She nodded, but she was still staring at his mouth.
He smiled gently. “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said.”
“Haven’t heard,” she said, nodding.
“What the hell,” he whispered, and his lips gently parted hers, hesitating when she stiffened, moving closer when she relaxed. Her fingers dug into his chest as he drew her closer, as his mouth grew slowly more invasive in the cold darkness, where he was the only warmth.
He felt her breath catch and knew it wasn’t prompted by fear. But a good horseman didn’t rush his fences, and a smart man didn’t grow overly ardent with a damaged woman. He drew away from her, very slowly.
She was staring at him, her heart beating like a butterfly in her chest, her china-blue eyes vivid, wide, fascinated.
His fingers trailed down her cheek. “What you know about men, Ida,” he said and watched her react as he spoke her name for the first time, “could be written on the head of a match.”
She was still staring at him, transfixed.
He put her away gently. “I’ll call you in a few days. We might go out to eat.”
She flushed. “Really?”
He stared down at her and hated the men who’d made her feel inadequate, when she was a treasure waiting to be discovered. “Really.”
She smiled. It was like the sun coming out. “I would...I would like that,” she stammered.
He chuckled. “I know some great restaurants.”
“I love good food.”
“So do I. You’ve still got my number on your cell, right?” he asked suddenly.
“Yes.”
“If you need help, use it,” he said.
She drew in a breath. “I don’t want to involve you in my trouble.”
His heart jumped. It was a very protective attitude. He liked it. “If I minded, I’d never have offered,” he explained.
“Okay, then. Thanks.”
His eyes narrowed. “Or if you wake up screaming in the middle of the night, you can call me,” he said abruptly. “I don’t sleep much myself.”
She turned red. “Cindy told you,” she said self-consciously.
He nodded. “She worries about you.”
Her eyes lowered.
“It must be one hell of a bad memory,” he said after a minute. “We’ll make some better ones. Supper. Next week. I’ll text you.”
She looked up at him with a feeling akin to rebirth. Her breath sighed out and she smiled. “Next week,” she whispered.
He was tempted to pull her close and kiss the breath out of her, but she was going to need gentle handling. She was damaged. Odd, how much he wanted to protect her. It was a feeling he hadn’t indulged since Mina had been part of his life.
He smiled, tipped his hat mischievously and walked back to his car. “Lock the doors,” he called back.
She laughed. “You lock yours, too.”
He threw up a hand.
She went inside and locked the door, leaning back against it with a long, sweet sigh of pure delight.
* * *
THE DELIGHT WAS gone in an instant when her cell phone rang and she answered it absently.
“New man in your life, huh?” came an insulting, angry voice over the line. “Well, you belong to me, and he’s not getting you. Nobody’s getting you.”
“We’re