His Marriage Pact. Kathie DeNosky
boy. “Your second favorite then.”
“Taking a long, hard ride on a—”
“Dallas,” she said in a scolding tone.
“Bull.” He tried on an innocent look that didn’t quite erase the devilish gleam in his blue eyes. “What did you think I was going to say?”
The man knew exactly what she’d been thinking, and with good reason. “Moving on. Favorite food?”
“Steak.”
She knew the answer to that before she’d asked the question. “I love hummus with red peppers.”
He frowned. “I’d rather eat hay. Your favorite vacation spot?”
“I haven’t been on a vacation in so long I couldn’t really say. I do know it’s not Vegas. I’ve seen enough of that place to last a lifetime.”
“Never been a big fan,” he said. “Except when I was at the National Finals Rodeo. Now that I’ve retired, give me a fishing trip any day.”
“I’ve never been fishing,” she said.
“Never?”
“No. My father spent his career on boats so he avoided taking us anywhere that involved water.”
Dallas remained quiet for a while before he asked, “How would you feel about going fishing?”
“Today?”
“Sure. We’ve got to spend our honeymoon somewhere, not to mention the press is hanging out at the ranch, waiting for our return. We could just kick back a couple of days. I can teach you how to cast a line and we can just relax.”
Had this been a traditional marriage, she might have preferred a tropical paradise in lieu of a fishing excursion. However, that fit Dallas’s cowboy persona, not consuming fruity drinks with umbrellas during an island escape. Avoiding any more media coverage for the time being sounded like a good idea no matter where they went. She did see one problem. “I didn’t pack a bag, Dallas.”
“Just leave it all up to me. I promise you’ll have everything you need.”
She trusted he would make good on that promise. “Okay. Exactly where will we go?”
“Lady, this is your lucky day. I just happen to know this little cabin on a lake.”
* * *
It had to be the biggest log cabin she’d ever seen.
When they’d arrived at the airport an hour ago, they’d been greeted by a fiftysomething-year-old man who’d delivered Dallas a tricked-out black truck, complete with leather seats, satellite radio and a high-tech computer. They’d immediately set off for Texas Hill Country, northwest of San Antonio, luggage on board as promised, for their impromptu honeymoon. And now they traveled up a steep drive lined by a myriad of trees toward another magnificent property.
“This place is really yours?” Paris asked as Dallas pulled into the circular drive and stopped before the front door.
He turned off the ignition and gave her a prideful smile. “Yep. I helped build it with my own two hands a couple of years ago. It’s a nice place to escape, although I don’t get to enjoy it often enough. Now wait right here.”
After undoing her seat belt, Paris remained in her seat while Dallas rounded the hood and helped her out. He only let go of her hand to open the pine door, and then caught her completely off guard when he picked her up into his arms.
She had a little trouble catching her breath as he stepped inside. “What on earth are you doing, Dallas?”
“Carrying my bride over the threshold.”
Even her official first husband hadn’t done that. “Isn’t this a bit of overkill considering our situation?”
“The caretaker doesn’t know our situation,” he said as he set her on her feet atop the wood plank floors. “And I don’t know if he’s left yet. I’m going to check the place over then I’ll bring in the bags.”
After Dallas left her alone to her devices, Paris readjusted her dress and tightened the band at her nape. The man had literally swept her off her feet. Imagine that. If not careful, she might actually start viewing him as a real husband. Not wise at all.
Pushing the concerns aside, she surveyed the great room with floor-to-towering-ceiling windows that afforded a view of the wooded terrain. Or what she could see of it now that the sun had disappeared. The place was rustic, like its owner, but charming all the same. Most of the accent pieces appeared to be antiques, with a lot of Western art and bronze statues. The heavy wood furniture with tufted cushions could have been handmade, and the decor most likely had been strictly selected by Dallas. She could also tell it wasn’t nearly as large as his ranch house, but just as masculine if not more so. In fact, she saw no evidence whatsoever of a woman’s touch.
A few minutes later, Dallas came back through the front door, toting the suitcases, and startling her senseless. “All clear.”
“How did you manage to sneak by me?”
He set the suitcases down by the oversize sectional. “I went out the back door then walked around to the front.”
Logical, though she couldn’t lay claim to much logic of late. “Oh. Makes sense.”
He pointed to his left. “Kitchen and dining room are in there, along with the back door.” He then pointed to his right. “Bedrooms are that way. All have their own private bath. You can pick whichever one you want.”
“Which one is yours?”
He cracked a crooked grin. “I was hoping you’d pick that one.”
Apparently he didn’t intend to give up on the sex thing very easily. “You and I both know that’s not a good idea, sleeping in the same bed.”
“I know no such thing. I think it’s a great idea. That way if someone comes calling, we’ll at least appear to be the happy couple.”
Stubborn man. “Do you routinely have people randomly show up in your bedroom?”
He rubbed his chin and looked as if he had to think about that. “Maybe a time or two back when I was a teen and managed to sneak a girl into my bedroom. But I’m fairly sure Maria isn’t going to make a trip down here for that. In fact, she would expect us to be sharing a bed. Jenny, too.”
“Do they not know the terms of this marriage?”
“Not exactly, but they do know me.”
She had begun to know him, too. She’d also begun to realize resisting him would prove to be a major challenge. “Humor me and show me to my own room, okay?”
He gave her that little boy shrug. “Okay. But this isn’t like any honeymoon I’ve ever read about.”
This wasn’t like any marriage she’d ever heard of, either. “You’ll survive.”
“Maybe, but I will be walking funny.”
“Ha, ha.”
She shadowed Dallas’s steps as he led her into a hallway, bags in hand, and stopped at the first open door. “This is probably the smaller of the three, but I think it suits you.”
Paris stepped into the room to find the four-poster queen bed draped in an orange-and-white cowhide. “I refuse to sleep with a dead animal.”
Dallas chuckled behind her. “It’s not real, just made to look that way.”
She turned around and scowled. “It’s not very tasteful.”
“It’s my taste. Get used to it. Are you hungry?”
Not anymore. “The little vegetable sandwiches they served us on the plane will tide me over. Right now I’d like to get these shoes off and get into something