by Lori Wilde
Travis blew her a kiss. “The pleasure was all mine. If you weren’t hanging out with one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met, I’d be asking for your number myself.”
Della brought her hand to her cheek, and Nate laughed and hugged her hard. “So not happening.”
He was still grinning as he walked her toward the bar.
“Would you like another drink, Della?”
“Yes, please. Something strong.” She flapped her hand in front of her face. “I’m way too hot.”
“I hear Travis Whitley has that effect on a lot of women.”
“He’s not really my type.” She found an empty table and sat down. “His life sounded quite sad, actually. Imagine being stuck behind high fences, unable to go out when you feel like it.”
“Imagine all those fans screaming your name and all those millions of dollars,” Nate countered.
She considered him, her head tilted to one side like an inquisitive bird. “But it’s almost as if the more famous he is, the smaller his personal space and ability to live like a normal person become.” She sighed. “I actually felt sorry for him.”
“So did I.” Nate took hold of her hand. “I’m glad I’m not him—even though he probably thinks my life is as boring as it gets.”
She studied their joined hands. “Are you really a cop?”
“Technically, I’m a deputy sheriff, but seeing as I’m the entire force of the law in Morgantown, California, I often get mistaken for a cop.” He hesitated. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“Um, no, why should I?” Her voice was a little high and breathy.
He tried to make a joke of it. “Not planning a bank heist or anything, are you?”
“No.” She wouldn’t quite look at him, and every cop instinct he possessed screamed at him to sit up and take notice.
“Or do you just not like cops? I know a lot of people have issues with us.”
“I’m perfectly fine with officers of the law.” She eased her hand free from his. “The bar looks clear now—shall I go get some drinks?”
He watched her make her way to the bar, his smile dimming as he considered the not-so-good vibe he was getting from her. Did she just not like cops but was too polite to say so, or was something else going on? Nate finished his beer. Now his instincts were at war. His heart was insisting Della was The One and his head was worried she was up to something.
There was a sudden commotion over by the entrance as Meg Stoddard, Brady’s best woman, came into the barn accompanied by a guy who looked way too familiar. Nate narrowed his eyes as he considered the man’s perfect features and look-at-me smile. He’d definitely seen him on TV. From the expression on Meg’s face, she wasn’t enjoying the moment half as much as her companion was.
Della came back holding two beers. “What’s up?”
“Look who’s here.” Nate pointed at the man who’d taken a seat at the top table between Meg and the bride’s man of honor.
“That’s Grant Portman. He’s on CNN.”
Nate snapped his fingers. “I knew I’d seen him somewhere. I wonder what he’s doing here? I don’t think Brady mentioned he was coming.”
Della laughed. “Who next? The Pope?” She gave Nate his beer. “This wedding is getting more exciting by the minute.”
Chapter Three
Della woke up and slowly opened her eyes to find herself snuggled up against Nate’s back. Her arm was around his waist and she was basically spooning him. So much for staying on her own side of the bed. When they’d returned to the hotel, she’d pretended she was supertired and he hadn’t pressed her for anything. She’d been torn between disappointment and relief that he hadn’t asked for more because part of her knew that if he did kiss her again, she wouldn’t hesitate to kiss him back.
Not that she hadn’t lain awake for at least an hour imagining that kiss . . .
She sighed and contemplated the creases in his white T-shirt. It was three o’clock in the morning. From what she could tell, he was sound asleep, so she could probably just ease backward and he’d never know she’d been wrapped around him like a limpet.
The trouble was, he smelled so good that she didn’t want to move. And being this close to him felt right even though he was a cop who could bust her ass in a heartbeat. She was exaggerating, but her guilt wouldn’t leave her alone.
“You okay?”
She jumped at his quiet question.
“Yup. I was just wondering how I ended up wrapped around you and how to extricate myself.”
He chuckled, the sound low in his throat. “Stay put if you like. I’m not complaining. It’s been a while since I’ve snuggled up to anything except my dog, Birdy.”
“Your dog sleeps on your bed?”
“Hard to keep him off when he weighs over a hundred pounds and thinks he’s still a puppy.”
Della smiled against his back as the air-conditioning whirred and the faint sounds of night creatures permeated the thick glass of the balcony door.
“You don’t date much, then?”
“Nope. Too busy. I cover Morgantown and a lot of the county around it, so I’m always on the move. I share the job with another deputy in Bridgeport, but because I live on-site and everyone knows me, I kind of get all the calls regardless of whether I’m on duty or not.”
“That must be tough.” Della really didn’t want to get into a conversation about what he did. “I’m in the same boat—too busy to seriously date anyone.”
He eased onto his back and she stayed on her side. It was dark enough that she couldn’t see his face clearly, which was kind of comforting. He slid one hand behind his neck and the other arm around her shoulders, drawing her close.
“Is that okay?”
“I’ll let you know if I get a crick in my neck.” Della resisted the temptation to climb all over him but allowed her free hand to skim over his chest.
“Did you have a good time at the dinner?” Nate asked, his fingers rubbing small circles on her shoulder.
“Yes, thank you. I can’t believe I met Travis Whitley and saw that pompous reporter guy trying to make the wedding all about him. I don’t think Meg was happy about him being there.”
“Yeah, dinner and a show. Way more exciting out here than in California.”
“Do you really think Travis meant his invitation for us to visit him in Nashville?”
He sighed. “Probably not. From what he told me when you were in the bathroom, he’s basically never there. Not a life I’d want, although he did make me feel like a boring homebody who’s never done anything.”
“Hey, you went to college in Texas. That was brave.”
“And you moved all the way to California.”
It was Della’s turn to sigh. “I just wanted to get away. It was kind of selfish. My mom still hasn’t forgiven me.”
“Sometimes we have to do stuff to become the person we’re meant to be, and sometimes it’s hard to do that when you’re stuck in a place where everyone thinks they know you.” He hesitated. “My dad had this dream of owning his own ranch and expected me to come back from college with all the most up-to-date information to make it happen. But I soon realized I didn’t want to be a rancher. Telling him that, and watching the dream fade from his eyes as he struggled to accept my choices, was one of the lowest points in my life.”
Now she wanted to hold him and make everything better . . . she was so screwed.
“My mom wanted me to settle down, get married, and have babies like my sister did.”
“Your mom sounds a lot like mine. She and my dad have the best marriage ever, but it’s not easy to find the right person and I refuse to settle.”
She patted his chest. “Why should you? You’re young, good-looking, and have a steady job. I bet women swarm all over you every time you leave the house.”
“Thanks for the encouragement, but the only woman I’ve met recently who I’d like to get to know seems to have a problem with cops.”
Della stayed quiet for at l
east a minute before daring to reply. “Are you talking about me?”
“You’re the only woman I’m currently sharing a bed with.”
“But that was just for our mutual convenience.”
He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “It’s okay, Della. I’m sticking to our agreement. I’m not suddenly going to pounce on you.”
Not being able to see his face clearly gave her a courage she normally lacked. “Not even if I was okay with it?”
He tilted his head up toward the ceiling as if seeking divine inspiration. “I’d still feel like I was taking advantage of you.”
“But aren’t you the one-night stand king?”
He groaned. “One date. Not one sleepover.”
“So you’ve never had sex?”
“I didn’t quite say that, but I certainly haven’t racked up high numbers.”
Della tried not to smile at his indignant tone. “Like, how high?”
Suddenly he shifted his weight, picked her up, and dumped her on his lap on top of the covers. Now she had to look at him and was relieved to see he was grinning at her.
“Two?” Nate said.
She held out her hand, palm up. “Snap.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Man, those guys in San Jose must be slow and blind.”
“Or I’m like you and just have high standards.”
“I wouldn’t have expected anything less.” He cleared his throat. “I really want to kiss you.”
Leaning in, she brushed her lips against his. “Then do it.”
* * *
Nate took full advantage of her permission, coaxing her into opening her mouth and settling in for a slow exploration that made her grab hold of his shoulder and thread her fingers through his hair.
Yeah . . .
The One.
This was definitely the best kiss ever.
She shifted even closer, the tips of her breasts brushing up against his T-shirt, making him shudder with the need to uncover more, to claim more, to take. His fingers slid up her spine beneath her shirt to touch bare skin. He rocked his hips, drawing her even tighter against him, his palm pressed to her lower back.
It was way outside his normal experience, and some grain of sense, some hard-won caution from years of police work made him reluctantly ease back. She didn’t like cops. She was hiding something from him.
Even as he thought that, he imagined his father’s horrified expression—that a Turner would put anything ahead of discovering and keeping The One woman for him. But his cautious nature had saved his life more than once, and he had to be certain.
“Nate?”
He gathered his scattered senses and met her gaze head-on. “I’m sorry. That kiss went way too far.”
She blinked at him. “For you or for me?”
“Probably for both of us.”
He still couldn’t quite bear to release her, but she settled that problem by moving off his lap, making him wince as her knee connected with his groin. Resisting the urge to whimper or drag her back and settle some things, he took an unsteady breath.
“Della, we just met and—”
She folded her arms over her luscious breasts. “So you think I’m being too forward?”
“No!” Now she looked hurt and he wanted to slap himself silly. “I think we should slow down, get to know each other over the next couple of days, and take it from there.”
“Fine.”
He wasn’t dumb. He knew that when a woman said fine, things rarely were. “I like you a lot.”
“So you keep saying.” She studied him for a long moment and then released a slow breath. “But you’re right. Give me two days.”
“To do what?”
Guilt flashed in her eyes and he tensed. “To get to know you, of course. What else?” She crawled back over to her side of the bed. “’Night, Nate.”
He lay back down on his side and stared into the darkness. Why did he still have a sense that she was up to something? And if she was—what the heck was he going to do about it?
* * *
After a decent breakfast at the hotel and with several hours to spare before the actual wedding, Della checked her cell for messages and then turned to Nate, who sat beside her in the booth.
“Do you still want to go look for a new hat?”
He put down his coffee cup and smoothed a hand over his unshaven chin. To her secret relief, he’d been his usual charming self all morning, hadn’t once referred to their smoldering kiss of the night before.
“Yeah. I want to look good at the wedding. Do you know a place?”
“As I said, this is Texas, land of the cowboy hat. We could try Cavender’s, for a start.” She hesitated, unsure of how he felt about hanging out with her. “I can drive you there or give you directions.”
He reached for her hand. “I’d love for you to come with me. Perhaps we can work on your aversion to cops on the way.”
“What aversion?”
He didn’t reply, turning his attention to signing the check.
Della touched his shoulder. “Let me know how much I owe you for the food and the room, okay?”
He looked up. “Hey, you’re the one doing me a favor. I don’t expect you to pay for anything.”
“I’d like to pay.” Then maybe she wouldn’t feel so guilty. “If you hadn’t offered to share your space, I would’ve slept in my car for three days.”
“I’ve got this. You can pay for lunch, okay?”
He slid the signed receipt under his coffee cup and stood up, stretching the kinks out of his spine and making her all too aware of his lean, muscular physique.
“I probably need to shave.”
She couldn’t resist cupping his chin. “I kind of like it. You look like an old-time sheriff now.”
“You like that idea?” His smile flashed. “You should come to our Historic Morgantown Day, when we all dress up like our forebears and parade around town.”
“I think I’d enjoy seeing you swaggering around with your gun belt hanging low and your battered gold star on your leather vest. Do you have a mustache as well?”
“Nope, that’s reserved for the villain—usually played by one of the Morgan brothers, the wildest guys in town.” He took her hand again. “You really should come. I’d love to see you again.”
Della thought about that as they walked back up to the room to retrieve their stuff. If she could get the pictures of Travis without anyone noticing, turn them over to Wade, and move on, why shouldn’t she go see Nate Turner in his natural element, chasing down the bad guys? The idea appealed to her more strongly than she’d anticipated. Maybe it was fate.
Her sense of anticipation faded. What if the situation at home got even worse than it was now and she had to come back for good? Her mom had already made some pointed comments about her lack of loyalty to her sister. But if she didn’t earn money, she wouldn’t be able to send so much of it home to support her family. Unfortunately, her little niece Perry needed every penny she sent home more than ever now. And what about her sister’s rat of a husband, who’d disappeared the moment things got difficult? No one seemed to be chasing after him. Just because she was the older sibling, was she doomed to be responsible for everyone forever?
Even thinking like that made her feel ashamed. They needed her. She hated what she had to do and already knew that all the money in the world might not fix her family’s problems. But she had to try.
* * *
By the time Nate had acquired two new hats and a pair of boots, Della had to rush back to the hotel to get ready for the wedding at three. He was no closer to discovering what in particular she didn’t like about his profession and even more certain that despite everything, she was the closest to The One he’d ever met or was likely to meet again. His romantic self remained at war with his cop self, his certainty that she was a good person at odds with his sense of something not sitting quite right.
It was both magical and infuriating.
He knew his dad a
nd younger brother would be yelling at him to just tell her how he felt and take it from there, but he couldn’t do it. He checked his cell. There was nothing from his sister or the rest of his community, which made a nice change. He loved them all dearly, but sometimes he yearned for some space.
Moving Della’s discarded T-shirt to one side, he noticed she’d been doodling on the hotel notepaper by the phone. Well, not really doodling but writing Travis’s name and underlining it about fifty times with a ton of question marks. Nate frowned. For someone who claimed not to like the man, she sure spent a lot of time thinking about him. At least she hadn’t written Della Whitley in a heart . . .
He buttoned the pearl snaps on his newly ironed blue shirt and put on his best jeans. His grandfather’s cuff links made from Morgansville gold and his father’s rodeo buckle on his belt added a familiar touch to his new clothes. He’d thought about wearing his fancy new Lucchese boots but figured with all the standing and sitting at the wedding he’d do better to rely on his now second-best pair.
Checking his watch, he knocked on the bathroom door. “You doing okay in there, Della?”
“I’m just coming out now.”
The door opened and she emerged in a rush of warm air and a subtle flowery fragrance. He barely managed to keep his mouth closed as he stared at her, doubts forgotten. She wore a red dress with white roses on the skirt and real roses in her hair, which was gathered up into a fancy topknot on her head. A couple of curls brushed her cheeks when she moved. She looked good enough to eat. His gaze dropped to her impossibly high-heeled shoes and he growled deep in his throat.
She blinked at him. “Do I look okay?”
She sounded anxious, her hands smoothing her skirt, which covered a net petticoat that made her dress kick out even more.
He took her hand and kissed it. “You look beautiful. Like a summer rose garden.”
“You look pretty good yourself.” Her appreciative gaze swept over him. “Are you going to wear your new hat?”
“Damn straight I am.” He reverently lifted it from its box and set it on his head.
Della sighed and clasped her hands to her chest. “Oh my. You look like you stepped off the cover of a romance novel.”
