To Wear His Ring

by Diana Palmer

  “Caught throwing stones at the girl’s window.” She shook her head and grinned. “That misdemeanor carries quite a fine in Kalamoose.”

  It wouldn’t have shocked her a bit to discover that her blood had turned to golden honey; she felt so sweet and warm as his face relaxed and his left eyebrow hitched with the same humor that curled his masculine lips. His eyes said clearly that seeing her made him very, very happy.

  Chase cocked his head. “I committed the crime, I’ll do the time.”

  Amusement sparkled in Nettie’s eyes and made dimples appear in her cheeks. The sight pleased Chase more than scooping the collapse of a foreign syndicate. He didn’t want her to be awed or to find him “glamorous,” as Nick suggested. He wanted their interaction to be clean and unbiased, just one man and one woman, on a prairie in the middle of North Dakota.

  Tousled from bed, Nettie’s wild black curls fell softly around her cheeks and past her shoulders. Gently, carefully, he reached out to release a section of her hair from beneath the collar of her silky robe. Her huge eyes blinked heavily, as if she were sleepy, or hypnotized.

  Chase had been feted and flattered so often, he barely noticed it anymore. He’d seen so many exquisite women, he tended to take beauty for granted. Yet standing in front of this woman made him feel like a sixteen-year-old misfit who’d been granted a date with the homecoming queen.

  He was in deep, deep trouble.

  “I’ve been warned to stay away from you, Ms. Owens.” His intention was to keep this light and amusing, but he didn’t feel light or amused.

  Her surprise was evident. “By who?”

  “Nick. He thinks I’ll hurt you.” Again he had the urge to touch her hair. This time he resisted. The effort further tightened his tone. “He’s probably right. I’m not…” Chase sighed, unsure of how to proceed. He didn’t like being unsure.

  “You’re not ‘serious.’” She finished his sentence with a startling matter-of-factness. “You’re not staying in Kalamoose.” The blue eyes rolled. “Duh.” She used her fingers to tick off the next couple of facts. “You’re not looking for anything permanent, and I’m a small-town girl who’s not going anywhere—” About to continue in the same vein, she stopped and shifted gears. “What did Nick say about me?”

  “He respects you. Admires you. He says you’re good through and through. And that you’re a home-and-hearth type.” All complimentary stuff as far as Chase was concerned, but it made Nettie’s teeth clench. She muttered something he didn’t catch. “Beg your pardon?”

  “Donna Reed,” she growled. “He’s making me sound like the mother in a nineteen-fifties sitcom.”

  “And that’s not you?”

  Her eyes narrowed, and she answered grimly. “No. On all counts.”

  He found himself wanting to believe her, because it would be easier. But Nick had also said, “Home and family were everything to her.” Were. What did that mean? She’d had a family and now didn’t? Chase had assumed Nick was talking about the loss of her parents.

  “How did you know which bedroom was mine?” Nettie asked, before Chase could pursue his line of thought. “Sara could be standing here right now.”

  He winced. “Not a chance. She’d have shot me from the window.”

  The smile returned to her face. Chase really didn’t want to answer the question. The truth, the whole truth, was that he’d scoped the house out earlier this evening, which made him sound like either a high-school freshman or a total pervert. He settled for a partial truth.

  “One bedroom has lace curtains, one has shutters and one has a hand-lettered sign that says This House Patrolled by N.D.P.D. stuck in the window. I took my best shot.”

  She laughed. “I’m glad.”

  “You’re not angry? It’s past midnight.”

  Nettie shook her head. Her eyes never left his. “I’m not angry.”

  The words emanated from some newborn place inside her. She felt herself grow calmer and more sure of herself by the minute. “I was warned away from you, too.”

  Chase frowned. “Nick gets around.”

  “He hasn’t said anything to me. I warned myself.” It was the truth, and amazingly she didn’t feel a bit embarrassed saying it. “I told myself you’ve had relationships with some of the most beautiful women in the world. With exciting women. ‘What could he possibly see in you?’ I said.”

  “How did you answer that?”

  “I didn’t. You did. You threw stones at my window.”

  Nettie took a breath at the same time that she took a step forward. It made her appear both bold and nervous. Chase didn’t want to wait another second. Desire coursed through his veins; he had wanted women in the past, of course. Wanted them physically, wanted them now. This was different, though he didn’t know quite how, except that in the past his desire had seemed like a wind—swift and strong and fleeting. What he felt now was an uncontrolled burn, a fire that gained strength as it moved.

  “You are so damn lovely.” His hoarse whisper cloaked them like the night. “You should see what I see.” The eyes of the women he typically dated would have smiled with satisfaction if he’d said the same words to them. Nettie’s eyes widened happily, hungrily. Chase thought his self-control had never been so tested. “You should listen to Nick,” he told her, his voice more a growl now than a whisper. “Or I should listen.”

  Because he didn’t think he could stand not touching her a moment longer—yet didn’t want to hold her in a passionate way—he grasped her upper arms and promised himself his hands would not wander.

  “I travel all over the world,” he told her. “I’m never in one place very long. I haven’t slept in my apartment more than three nights in a row for the past five years. And I am lousy at relationships. Lousy. I can tell you who’s who in the Middle East political scene, but if you want a shoulder to cry on or a comforting voice in the middle of the night, or someone who’ll remember your birthday—”

  Nettie’s hands came up to hold his face, as firmly as he had taken her arms. “You talk way too much.” She stepped closer, unmindful of the fingers that tightened unconsciously around her. As she raised her face, she felt energy, like a buzz, at the contact. When she touched her lips to his, a shudder of barely exerted control ran through him, and Nettie felt a surge of delicious power.

  Last time, he’d controlled the kiss, and, dazed, she’d simply hung on for the ride. This time when their lips met, Nettie took control of the vehicle and wasn’t about to let go for anything!

  Still holding his face, she began the kiss softly, an explorer in uncharted country. One…two…three gentle touches, each lasting a bit longer than the one before. After the third kiss, she lingered, allowing herself to be excruciatingly aware—of his skin, of the infinitesimal beard he would have to shave tomorrow morning, of the aftershave she’d noticed that first night and which she decided she really loved. What she wanted, truly wanted, was to move along the outline of his lips to the corner of his mouth and then down, teasing that little nook between his lower lip and chin.

  So she did it. She did exactly what she wanted, exactly the way she wanted and for at least forty seconds she paid no attention to the fact that she was standing in her side yard in the middle of the night, wearing only a thin, plain gown and robe, with a man People magazine had called “beautiful.”

  When she kissed his chin, Chase kissed her nose. Nettie had the blissful urge to snuggle into him like a cat. She lifted her face and again pressed her lips to his, this time allowing them to part slightly. It was a hesitant move, and Chase stayed absolutely still, letting her set the pace. She looked up. His eyes were shadowed by the silky night, but she could tell that they were open and watching her. In one electrified instant she felt everything…every thing…the whisper of his breath, the thud of her own heart, cold grass beneath her bare feet and his warm, warm hands resting on her upper arms.

  “What are you doing to me, Nettie Owens?” Chase’s whispered question held a smile. His hands began
to move down her arms, pulling her closer, settling on the curve of her lower back.

  Nettie released his face reluctantly. Suddenly she felt self-conscious. Winding her arms around his neck seemed too intimate, somehow, a sensibility that smacked of the ridiculous in light of the kisses they were sharing. Still, he was fully clothed and she was pressed against him in a silk robe—no bra. Her bare feet, taking tiny steps toward him for balance, bumped into his leather boots, and that, too, seemed achingly intimate.

  So what to do with her hands? She settled for lowering them, resting her palms on his shoulders.

  Chase was still looking down into her face. “What now, Nettie?”

  Good question. What now? He wasn’t staying. A relationship would go nowhere, and she appreciated his honesty in saying so. She didn’t even know how long he planned to stay. But he felt so warm and sturdy, holding her this way, closely but lightly, too, giving her the freedom to make a choice.

  As for wanting a man who would provide a shoulder for her to cry on, tears were not what she was interested in. She’d cried enough already.

  “October twenty-third,” she said.

  Bemused, Chase edged his head back a bit. “What’s that?”

  “My birthday. Think you can remember it?”

  Chase’s smile carried through the shadows. “I think so.”

  Unconsciously, Nettie sighed. Looking him square in the eye, she said, “Good enough.”

  Clearly he had no idea what she was talking about at first. Then understanding dawned. A gratifying look of wonder lit his face, punctuated swiftly by a frown. “Are you telling me you want a relationship given everything I’ve said?”

  Was she? Nettie nodded.

  Chase’s arms stiffened around her. “Say it, Nettie. Out loud. I need to hear it, because when I look at you, I see babies and Christmas trees and dinners at home before the PTA meeting—”

  “No.” Swift and adamant, the denial left no room for doubt. His simple description was all she needed to hear to know that her decision was made. “Look again,” she said. “I don’t want…” Knowing she would choke up if she told him what she didn’t want, she focused instead on what she did. “How long will you be in town?”

  Chase grimaced. “Two weeks, maybe three. But I—”

  She interrupted him. “Fine. A few weeks.” Wrapped in his arms, feeling vulnerable but surprisingly strong, she raised a brow. “You’ll miss my birthday, but we could celebrate early. Or not.” She took a breath. “Do you want a girlfriend while you’re here?”

  “A girlfriend?”

  She stood taller. He was smiling at her, gently and with a tinge of amusement. If he wanted to hear her say something sophisticated, like lover, she didn’t think she could do it. There was only so much daring she could handle in one night. If he asked her what she meant by girlfriend, she wondered whether she could define her picture of the next two weeks in his company, for him and for herself, out loud.

  He released her, bringing his hands up to her neck and cupping her jaw in his palms. Before she could speak, he rubbed a thumb lightly across her lips. “I’d like you to be my girlfriend. I would like it very much.”

  He didn’t add, “while I’m here.” He didn’t need to. An agreement had been struck, an agreement that was rife with implications.

  Nothing innocent about it, Nettie thought. And nothing ordinary. For a woman who played by the rules, she was bending quite a few of them tonight.

  She’d had only one lover in her life. She had no complaints about her sex life with her late husband, but once she’d unearthed a copy of The Women’s Guide to Sexual Satisfaction while cleaning out Lilah’s old room and had laughed herself silly. Either half the things in that book were physically impossible or she and Brian had been as daring as Ozzie and Harriet.

  Chase was an experienced man. No doubt he’d had experienced lovers.

  When he brought one hand up to smooth the hair back from her temple, his fingers tangled in her long curls. He smiled and suddenly it was just the two of them. No other people, no pasts, no future beyond the next two weeks. Even the night seemed to fall away. The only thing Nettie saw was Chase’s head lowering. All she felt was a bubbly, tingling anticipation as suddenly his mouth was less than a whisper away. “Nettie—”

  A door clicked, a screen slammed, and whatever he had been about to say was lost to the sound of Sara’s heel-heavy steps marching onto the porch.

  “Nettie! Are you out here?”

  Nettie jumped. Caught by surprise, she let out a little squeal. Grabbing fistfuls of Chase’s sweater, she began pushing him toward the side of the house. “Shh.”

  Automatically, Chase held her more protectively, cupping the back of her head.

  “Nettie?”

  “It’s my sister,” she hissed.

  “I know.” He whispered back.

  “If she sees us, this is going to be the longest two weeks of our lives. She thinks you’re a playboy.”

  “Last night she thought I was a bank robber.” His breath was warm in her ear. “We won’t be able to hide from her for two weeks.”

  “I know. But for right now…” Nettie figured that if she sounded like she was pleading…well, she was. She didn’t want to have to fight with Sara or to explain herself over and over. She didn’t want to talk about Chase. Not now. Maybe not ever. “Please, you’ve got to go. I’ll call you at Nick’s tomorrow.”

  First Chase shook his head. Then he grinned. “I have a feeling this boyfriend gig isn’t going to be as easy as it sounds.” Repeating her promise as a command, he said, “Call me tomorrow,” then kissed her temple at the corner of her eyebrow.

  They heard Sara’s footsteps, a bit softer now, heading in their direction. With a quick glance back toward the porch, Chase gave Nettie a brief salute and trotted around the corner of the house. When he was cleanly out of the light, Nettie heard him pick up speed and jog across the lawn.

  “Wha—Who is that? Hey!” Sara rushed down the porch steps and along the side of the house.

  “Sara!”

  “Nettie?” The lanky redhead stopped and searched the shadows for her sister. Dressed in a pair of plaid pajama bottoms and an I Love Fargo T-shirt, her feet stuffed into leather-soled moccasins and her hair plaited into a single sleep-mussed braid, Sara looked as cranky as she sounded. “What the heck is going on out here? Who is that?” She pointed demandingly toward the road.

  Nettie made a great show of peering into the yard, which at this time of night didn’t look like anything more than a great black void. “Who’s who?”

  “That person!” Sara stabbed the air.

  “Person?” Nettie blinked, managing a stunning show of bemusement for someone not used to lying. “What person?”

  “The one who is running through our yard!” Sara’s head swung dizzyingly from Nettie to the yard and back again—twice—as she obviously wrestled with an impulse to run after whoever was out there; the only thing stopping her was the fact that she wouldn’t be able to see more than three feet in front of her. “What is going on out here?”

  “Person?” Nettie murmured. “Person. Ohh, you mean the dog.”

  “Dog?”

  “Yes.” Nettie yawned. “A really big dog. Nice, though. I’m going back to bed.”

  “Ho-o-old it!” Sara’s lips folded together to form a tight, firm line. She inhaled to a slow count of three and exhaled noisily, a sign that she was trying to control herself, which usually meant the big explosion was right around the corner. “What are you trying to hide?”

  “Hide? Sara—” Nettie sighed. “Okay, I might as well tell you. You’re bound to find out, anyway.”

  “That’s right.”

  “I am hiding something from you.”

  “I knew it.”

  “But only because I don’t want you to get upset.”

  Immediately Sara became upset. “I’m not going to get upset. Why would I even care? Why does everybody think—”

  “Sara
, you don’t even know what it is yet.”

  Shoving at the heavy red waves that were slipping out of her braid, Sara crossed her arms. “Fine. Let’s have it.”

  Nettie pulled her robe more closely around her and tightened the sash. “Well. I’ve been kind of lonely lately, you know. You’ve been working extra-long hours since your deputy moved to Minot, and I’m here a lot by myself, and…I adopted a dog.”

  Sara stared. “Dog.”

  “Yes. Well, not adopted, officially. It probably belongs to someone up the road. But it comes around, and I…pet it. Talk to it. Feed it leftovers. He loves salmon patties. Isn’t that funny?”

  “You expect me to believe you were feeding a dog at midnight?”

  “I know. He likes to eat at the oddest times. I didn’t tell you, because…this dog looks just like poor old Skipper, and I know how upset you were when Skipper died.”

  “I was ten when Skipper died. I’m over it.”

  “Good for you!” Nettie yawned again. A great, noisy, stretched-arm yawn. “Oh, boy, I’m pooped. I’m going to bed.” She walked past Sara and up the porch steps. “’Night.”

  Sara stood with her arms crossed. She didn’t say a word, just let Nettie walk past her and into the house. As the screen door clanked shut, Nettie expelled a pent-up breath. Lying was not something that came easily to her. On the other hand…

  She giggled. She was doing lots of things tonight that didn’t usually come easily to her. A delicious jittery excitement tingled through her. She’d almost been caught kissing Chase Reynolds by the side of her house at midnight. Sounded like a countryand-western song.

  Heading up the stairs to her bedroom, she realized that sleep was the last thing on her mind. Why go unconscious when there was so much to think about, so many wonderful sensations to relive while they were still fresh?

  Two weeks. She had two weeks to make new wonderful sensations that she would remember long after he was gone and this lovely interlude had ended. A tiny dullness threatened to encroach upon her mood. Resolutely she shook her head. She had made a decision, struck a bargain, in a sense. Whatever happened over the next two weeks, she would accept the inevitable finality of her parting from Chase. Two weeks and no regrets.