Fiance Wanted. Ruth Dale Jean
Shall we start on the hour?”
“You got it.”
“First person who slips owes the innocent party, big time.”
“Absolutely. Seven o’clock.”
“In that case—Katy, I hate that thing you’re wearing. It looks like an explosion in a fireworks factory.”
Offended, she looked down at the bright print of her sundress. “I’ll have you know, this dress cost me a lot of money.”
“Money can’t buy everything.”
“No, but it can buy a lot. Speaking of which, don’t you own anything except jeans and long-sleeved plaid shirts? I’ve often wondered if there was something wrong with your arms—flabby, weak, whatever—the way you keep them covered up.”
“Wanna find out?” Reaching for the top snap, he fumbled to open it, his eyes glinting dangerously. “We’ll see who—”
“Oops, seven o’clock.” She glanced at her watch to confirm this. “As I was saying, I just love a man in a cowboy suit, Dylan darlin’.”
He managed the switch in attitudes as seamlessly as she had. “And I love a woman who knows what she loves.”
Just then the cocktail waitress dashed up, ending the verbal sparring for the moment. But not before Katy felt a little thrill of dangerous anticipation dart down her spine.
Dylan should have been glad the Pained Pony was filling up so fast, but for some reason, all those people piling in simply added to his tension. It didn’t take a genius to know he and Katy were the prime topic of conversation. Although he wasn’t a particularly private person, all the attention was getting on his nerves.
So were the inevitable questions he got every minute he was away from her, as in fetching drinks, waiting while she visited the ladies’ room, watching her dance with those strong enough to ask.
Yeah, strong, he thought watching her in the arms of Mickey Evans, a fireman. He knew she intimidated most guys and with good reason. A lot of people thought it was her job that made her so willing to ask or say things that others would be too timid to touch, but Dylan knew better.
Katy had always been that way. As a pigtailed kid, she’d run with the boys and held her own with the best of them—Matt and Dylan not excluded. Anything they could do, she could do, too.
Or bust bones trying. Like the time she jumped out of the cottonwood tree when none of the boys would, because you had to be real careful or real lucky to avoid the rocks along the creek bank. Katy had been neither. She’d hit those rocks and broken a leg.
He smiled. She’d taken it like a man and her cast had been a badge of honor.
The thing was, other girls grew out of that tomboy stage. Katy hadn’t. Even while she changed from gangly hellion into beautiful young woman on the outside, her wild spirit did not change.
That was why she and Dylan were still at odds all these years later. And why most of the guys in town gave Katy Andrews a wide berth.
“Hi, handsome.”
The breathy voice in his ear didn’t surprise him; he’d seen Brandee enter earlier and figured she’d been waiting for her chance.
She slipped into Katy’s vacant chair. “So this is what I came to see—you and Katy Andrews. Do you think I was born yesterday, Dylan? It’s me—Brandee! I’ve known you both forever, and the thought of you two as a couple is hysterical!”
“Katy and I don’t think so.”
“You mean you actually expect me to believe that you have a thing going with Katy?”
He liked that: a thing. They sure did! “We don’t give a damn what you believe, Brandee,” he said. “I was just trying to make you understand why I’m not available.”
“Sure you are. I mean, here you sit while she dances with that cute fireman. If that’s not available, I don’t know what is.”
The fast music played by the small band at the edge of the dance floor ended. Mickey and Katy turned back toward the table, and Dylan knew the precise moment she spotted Brandee in her chair. Katy’s eyes narrowed and her entire expression grew watchful.
The band started in on a new piece, slow this time. Dylan stood abruptly. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to dance with my girl,” he said to Brandee. If Katy had heard, she wasn’t going to be happy but a man had to do what a man had to do.
Taking her into his arms, Dylan swept Katy back onto the dance floor. She followed him effortlessly. In all the years they’d known each other, they’d never danced together, but he’d seen her dance with others enough to know she was good: graceful and intuitive in her movements.
Now she flowed against him with perfect ease. He slid a hand around her waist while the other lifted her hand to press it against his chest. The startled green eyes flew open just before he pulled her closer.
Her voice was muffled. “Aren’t you laying it on a bit thick?”
“Not hardly.” He led her into a swooping turn, which she followed without faltering. Damn, she felt good in his arms: soft and firm at the same time, warm and fragrant as a summer day.
Too bad it was just Katy.
“Brandee giving you a hard time?” she asked.
“Trying to. How ’bout we both just shut up and dance?”
“I suppose we could try that.”
They did. On the crowded dance floor, they moved closer and closer together—out of pure self-defense, he told himself, tightening his grip. If he hadn’t known it was Katy he was dancing with, he could have fooled himself into believing this could be the start of something good.
Funny that they’d never danced together before, though. It wasn’t a half-bad experience.
The music stopped. After a moment she said, “You can let me go now.”
“Oh, yeah, sure. Sorry.”
He couldn’t imagine what he’d been thinking of, he conceded, guiding her through the crowd. Maybe just the jolt he’d gotten when she let him hold her so close.
Brandee was waiting. “Hi, Katy,” she said. “Dylan tells me you two are a couple. Any truth to that?”
Dylan held his breath.
“I wouldn’t exactly say we’re a couple.” Katy smiled and he relaxed again. “On the other hand, I wouldn’t say we aren’t, either.”
Brandee rolled her eyes. “That’s pretty hard to believe for those of us who’ve been around.”
“Oh, you’ve definitely been around,” Katy said. “But things change, Brandee. So tell me, what’s the Chamber of Commerce and your father the president doing about paying off the bills they ran up for the Fourth of July celebration?”
“How would I know?” Brandee retorted. “I don’t pay any attention to that stuff.”
“Well, I do. It’s part of my job. If—”
Her words were suddenly muffled by Dylan, who clapped a hand firmly over her mouth. “No more shop talk,” he announced. “Want another drink?”
She shoved his hand away. “I certainly don’t,” she said indignantly.
“Want something to eat?”
“I certainly don’t.”
“Want to go home?”
“Bingo!” She grinned at Brandee. “Going home’s not the big attraction. It’s saying good night that I enjoy.”
And she winked. She actually winked.
Dylan could