Books By Diana Palmer

by Palmer, Diana

She felt sorry for him. Imagine that. She linked her hands to­gether over her stomach. "Then what do you want to do, Hank?" she asked quietly.

  "Get married. But only on paper," he added deliberately, his dark eyes steady and full of meaning. “Despite the physical at­traction I felt for you out in the pasture that day, I don't want a physical relationship with you. Let's get that clear at the outset. I want a document that gives you the right to sell me that land. In return, I'll make sure the figure you receive is above market price, and I'll put you through college to boot."

  It sounded fair enough to Dana, who was wrung out from the emotional stress. "And I get to stay here, in my own house," she added.

  "No."

  Her eyebrows shot up.

  "I'll want you to stay up at the homeplace with me," he re­plied, "as long as Betty and Bob are in town. Even though this is a legal marriage, I don't want Betty to know that I'm only a paper husband."

  "Oh, I see," she replied. "You want us to pretend that it's a normal arrangement."

  "Exactly."

  She didn't want to agree. He'd hurt her feelings, made horrible remarks, insulted her and embarrassed her with today's woman-hunt. But she needed to be able to sell the ranch. It would be her escape from the emotional poverty of loving where there was no hope of reciprocation.

  "Okay," she said after a minute. "Will we have to get a blood test and a license at the courthouse?"

  "We'll fly to Las Vegas and get married out there," he told her. "As soon as we've completed the legal maneuvers and Betty is safely out of my hair, we'll get a divorce there, which will be just as easy."

  Easy marriage. Easy divorce. Dana, with her dreams of returned love and babies to raise, felt the pain of those words all the way through her heart.

  "An annulment will spare you any hint of scandal afterward," he continued. "You can get your degree and find someone to spend your life with. Or part of it," he added with a mocking smile. "I don't think anybody has illusions about marriage lasting until death these days."

  Her parents had divorced. Hank had divorced. But Dana had seen couples who'd stayed together and been in love for years. The Ballenger brothers with their happy marriages came instantly to mind.

  "I'm not that cynical," she said after a minute. "And I think that children should have both parents while they're growing up if it's at all possible. Well," she added, "as long as it isn't a daily battleground."

  "Was your family like that?" he asked gently.

  She nodded. "My mother hated my father. She said he had no ambition, no intelligence, and that he was as dull as dishwater. She wanted parties and holidays all the time. He just wanted to settle down with a good book and nibble cheese."

  She smiled sadly, remembering him, and had to fight the easy tears that sprang so readily to her eyes.

  "Don't cry," he said shortly.

  She lifted her chin. "I wasn't going to," she said roughly. She remembered him holding her at her father's funeral, murmuring comforting words softly at her ear. But he had little patience with emotion, as a rule.

  He took a deep breath. "I'll set everything up and let you know when we'll go," he said.

  She wanted to argue, but the time had long passed for that. She nodded. He waited, but when she didn't say anything else, he went back to his car, got in and drove away

  Chapter 3

  Las Vegas sat right in the middle of a desert. Dana had never been there, and the sight of it fascinated her. Not only was it like a neon city, but the glitter extended even to the people who worked at the night spots. Dana found the way women dressed on the streets fascinating and almost fell out the window of Hank's hired luxury car trying to look at them. It wasn't until he explained what they did for a living that she gave up her surveillance. It was interesting to find that what they did was legal and that they could even advertise their services.

  "Here we are," he said gruffly, stopping at one of the all-night wedding chapels.

  It looked flashy, but then, so did the rest of them. Hank offered her an arm but she refused it, walking beside him with her purse tight in her hand. She was wearing a simple off-white suit. She didn't have a veil or even a bouquet, and she felt their omission all the way to her toes. It was so very different from the way she'd envisioned her wedding day.

  Hank didn't seem to notice or care. He dealt with the prelimi­naries, they signed a document, he produced a ring that she didn't even know he'd bought. Five minutes later, they were officially married, ring, cool kiss and all. Dana looked up at her husband and felt nothing, not even sorrow. She seemed to be numb from head to toe.

  "Are we flying right back?" she asked as they got into the car once more.

  He glanced at her. She seemed devoid of emotion. It was her wedding day. He hadn't given her a choice about her wedding ring. He hadn't offered to buy her a bouquet. He hadn't even asked if she wanted a church wedding, which could have been arranged. He'd been looking at the whole messy business from his own point of view. Dana had deserved something better than this icy, clinical joining.

  “We can stay at one of the theme hotels overnight, if you like, and take in a show."

  She didn't want to appear eager. The only show she'd ever seen was at a movie theater in Victoria.

  "Well," she said hesitantly.

  "I'll introduce you to the one-armed bandit," he added, chuck­ling at her expression.

  "If you think we could," she murmured, and that was as far as she was willing to commit herself. "But I didn't pack anything for an overnight stay."

  "No problem. The hotel has shops."

  And it did. He outfitted her with a gown, a bag and everything in the way of toiletries that she needed. She noticed that he didn't buy any pajamas, but she thought nothing of it. Surely they'd have separate rooms, anyway.

  But they didn't. There were too many conventions in town, and they got the last suite the hotel had—one with a king-size bed and a short sofa.

  Hank stared at the bed ruefully. "Sorry," he said. "But it's this or sleep on the floor."

  She cleared her throat. "We're both adults. And it's only a paper marriage," she stammered.

  "So it is," he mused, but his dark eyes had narrowed as they assessed her slender, perfect figure and he remembered the sight of her in the pasture with her blouse open and the feel of her breasts pressed hard into his bare chest.

  She glanced up, meeting that hot, intent stare. She flushed. "I'm not having sex with you, Hank," she said shortly.

  His eyebrows went up. "Did I ask?" he drawled sarcastically. "Listen, honey, the streets are full of prime women, if I'm so inclined."

  Her eyes blazed at him. "Don't you dare!" she raged. "Don't you dare, Hank!"

  He began to smile. "Well, well, aren't we possessive already?"

  "That's not the point. You made a vow. Until we have it un­done, we're married." She stared at her shoes. "I wouldn't go running to some gigolo on my wedding night."

  "Of course you wouldn't." He moved closer, his hands finding her small waist, and brought her gently to him. His breath feath­ered her forehead. "I can hear you breathing," he whispered. "Nervous?"

  She swallowed. "Well...yes...a little."

  His lips brushed her hair. "There's no need. It's a big bed. If you don't want anything to happen, it won't."

  She felt disappointed somehow. They were legally married. She loved him. Did he really not want her at all?

  He tilted her face up to his dark, curious eyes. "On the other hand," he said softly, "if you want to know what it's all about, I'll teach you. There won't be any consequences. And you'll enjoy it."

  She felt the words to the very tips of her toes. But she wasn't going to be won over that easily, even if she did want him more than her next breath.

  "No dice, huh?" he mused after a minute. "Okay. Suppose we go downstairs and try our luck?"

  "Suits me," she said, anxious to go anywhere away from that bed.

  So they went the rounds in the casino and played e
verything from the one-armed bandits to blackjack. The glittery costumes of the dancers on stage fascinated Dana, like everything else about this fantasy city. She ate perfectly cooked steak, watched the shows, and generally had a wonderful time while Hank treated her like a cherished date. In fact, that's what it was. They'd never been out together in all the years they'd known each other. During that one evening they made up for lost time.

  They returned upstairs just after midnight. Dana had gone over­board with pina coladas, the one drink she could tolerate. But she'd underestimated the amount of rum the bartender put in them. She was weaving at the door, to Hank's patent amusement.

  He slid the coded card into the slot and when the blinking green light indicated that it was unlocked, he opened the door.

  "Home again," he murmured, standing aside to let her enter.

  She tugged up the strap of her black dress that had slipped off her shoulder. Like the rest of her abbreviated wardrobe, it was the result of the afternoon's quick shopping trip. In addition to the knee-length cocktail dress and hose, she had a far too revealing black nightgown and no robe. She hoped Hank was agreeable to letting her undress in the dark.

  "You can have the bathroom first," he invited. "I'll listen to the news."

  "Thanks." She gathered her gown and underwear and went into the bathroom to shower.

  When she came out, Hank was sitting on the edge of the bed. He'd removed everything except his slacks. He got up, and she had to suppress a shiver of pleasure at the sight of him bare from the waist up. He had muscular arms and a sexy dark chest with a wedge of curling black hair running down it. His hair was mussed and down on his forehead. He looked rakish because he needed a shave.

  "Good thing I packed my razor," he mused, holding up a small pouch that had been in the attache case he always carried when he traveled. "I have to shave twice a day." His dark eyes slid over her body in the abbreviated gown, lingering where her arms were crossed defensively over the thin fabric that didn't quite cover her breasts from view. "We're married," he reminded her. "And I've seen most of you."

  She cleared her throat. "Which side of the bed do you like?" she asked shyly.

  "The right, but I don't mind either one. You can have first pick."

  "Thanks."

  She put her discarded clothing on a chair and climbed in quickly, pulling the covers up to her chin.

  He lifted an eyebrow. "Stay just like that," he coaxed, "and when I come out, I'll tell you a nice fairy tale."

  She glared at him through a rosy haze. "I'll probably be asleep. I haven't ever had so much to drink."

  He nodded slowly. "That may be a good thing," he said en­igmatically, and went into the bathroom.

  She wasn't asleep when he came out. She'd tried to be, but her mind wouldn't cooperate. She peered through her lashes and watched him move around the room turning out lights. He had a towel hooked around his hips and as he turned out the last lamp on his side of the bed, she saw him unhook the towel and throw it over the back of the vinyl-covered chair.

  She stiffened as he climbed in beside her and stretched lazily.

  "I can feel you bristling," he murmured dryly. "It's a big bed, honey, and I don't sleepwalk. You're safe."

  She cleared her throat. "Yes, I know."

  "Then why are you shivering?"

  He rolled over and moved closer. She could feel the heat of his body through her thin gown. She trembled even more when his long leg brushed against hers.

  "Shivering," he continued, moving closer, "and breathing like an Olympic runner." He slid a long arm under her and brought her sliding right over against him. "I haven't forgotten the signs when a woman wants me," he whispered as his hands smoothed the gown right down her body. "And you want me, Dana."

  She started to protest, but his mouth was already covering hers. He turned and pulled her to him, so that she felt his nude body all the way down hers. He was warm and hard, and even in her innocence she was aware that he wanted her badly.

  His lean hands smoothed over her flat belly, tracing down to the juncture of her long legs. His thumb eased between them and he touched her softly in a place that she hadn't dreamed he would.

  She jerked.

  "No," he said gently. "Don't pull back. This isn't going to hurt. It's only going to make it easy when I take you." His fingers were slow and sensual and insistent. She shivered, and the pres­sure grew. His mouth teased over her parted lips while he taught her body to yield to building pleasure.

  "Does it feel good?" he whispered.

  "Yes," she sobbed.

  "Don't fight it," he breathed. His mouth slid down to her breasts and explored them in a silence that grew tense as the movement of his hand produced staggering sensations that arched her body like a bow.

  He was doing something. It wasn't his finger now, it was part of his body, and he was easing down and pushing, penetrating...!

  "It hurts," she whispered frantically.

  "Here," he whispered, shifting quickly. He moved again, and she shivered, but not with pain. "Yes, that's it," he said quickly. "That's it, sweetheart!"

  She was unconsciously following his lead, letting him position her, buffet her. She felt his skin sliding against her own, heard the soft whisper of it even as the sensations made her mind spin. She was making sounds that she didn't recognize, deep in her throat, and clinging to him with all her strength.

  "I...wish...!" she choked.

  "Wish what?" he bit off, fighting for breath. "What do you want? I'll do anything!"

  "Wish...the light...was on," she managed to say.

  "Oh, God..." he groaned.

  He tried to reach the light switch, but just at that moment, a shock of pleasure caught him off guard and bit into his body like a sweet, hot knife. He gave up any thought of the light and drove against her with all his might, holding her thrashing hips as she went with him on the spiral of pleasure. He heard her cry out and thanked God that she was able to feel anything, because his only sane thought was that if he didn't find release soon, he was going to die...

  "Dana!" he cried out as he found what he craved, shuddering and shuddering as he gave himself to the sweetness of ecstasy.

  Her hands soothed him as she came back down again, shivering in the aftermath. She stroked his hair and his nape, pressing tender kisses on his cheeks, his eyes, his nose.

  "It was good," she whispered. "It was so good, so sweet. Oh, Hank, do it again!"

  He couldn't get enough breath to laugh. "Sweetheart, I can't," he whispered huskily. "Not just yet."

  "Why? Did I do something wrong?" she asked plaintively.

  He turned his head and kissed her soft mouth. "A man's body isn't like a woman's," he said gently. "I have to rest for a few minutes."

  "Oh."

  He kissed her lazily, stretching his strained muscles and draw­ing a deep breath before he laced her close against him again and sighed.

  “Did it hurt very much?'' he murmured drowsily.

  "A little, at first." She stretched against him. "Heavens, it's just like dying," she remarked with wonder. "And you don't care if you die, because it's so good." She laughed wickedly. "Hank, turn on the light," she whispered.

  "I thought you were a prude," he taunted.

  "No, I think I'm a voyeur." She corrected him. "I want to look at you."

  "Dana!"

  "And don't pretend to be shocked, because I know you aren't. I'll bet you want to look at all of me, too."

  "Indeed I do."

  "Well, then?"

  He turned on the light and peeled the covers away. She looked at him openly, coloring just a little at the sight of his blatant nudity. He didn't blush. He stared and stared, filling his eyes with her.

  "God, what a sight," he murmured huskily. He held out his arms. "Come here."

  She eased into them, felt him position her and lift her, and then bring her down over him to fit them together in a slow, sensual intimacy.

  "Now," he whispered huskily, moving
his hands to her hips. "Let's watch each other explode."

  "Are we...going to?" she whispered back, moving slowly with him.

  He nodded, because he couldn't manage words. His black eyes splintered as the sensations began to build all over again. His last sane thought was that he might never be able to get enough of her....

  He was distant the next morning. Dana had expected a new and wonderful closeness because of their intimacy in the night, but Hank was quiet and reserved in a way he'd never been before.

  "Is something wrong?" she asked worriedly.

  He shrugged. "What could be wrong?" He checked his watch. "We'd better get a move on. I have an appointment in the office late this afternoon, and I can't afford to miss it. Got your stuff together?"

  She nodded, still a little bewildered. "Hank...you aren't sorry about last night, are you?" she asked uneasily.

  "Of course not!" he said, and forced a smile. "I'm just in a hurry to get home. Let's go."

  And so they left and went home.

  Chapter 4

  Dana peered again at the thick gold wedding ring on her hand. They'd been back in Jacobsville for two weeks, and she was living in his big sprawling brick mansion now. The housekeeper, Miss Tilly, had been with Hayden for a long time. She was thin and friendly and secretly amused at the high-handed manner Hayden had managed his wedding, but she didn't say a word. She cooked and cleaned and kept out of the way.

  Dana was uneasy at first. Her brand-new husband didn't wear a wedding band, and she didn't like to suggest it to him for fear of sounding possessive. But it made her uncomfortable to think that he didn't want to openly indicate his wedded state. Surely he wasn't thinking of having affairs already?

  That was a natural thought, because despite his ardor in Las Vegas on their wedding night, he hadn't touched her since. He'd been polite, attentive, even affectionate. But he hadn't touched her as a lover. He was like a friend now. He'd insisted on separate bedrooms without any explanations at all, and he'd withdrawn from her physically to the point that he wouldn't even touch her hand. It wore on Dana's nerves.

  His behavior began to make sense the next morning, however, when Tilly went to answer the doorbell and a strange couple entered the house as if they belonged there.