His Marriage Pact. Kathie DeNosky
you seem to be lacking in the fun department.”
“And you seem to have an overabundance of testosterone.”
“That I do, and I won’t apologize for it.”
“I wouldn’t dream of asking for an apology.” She brushed past him and unzipped the case, only to find some skimpy barely-there bright red nightie. “Who packed this?”
He leaned over her shoulder, his warm breath filtering over her neck. “I’d guess Jenny. She wants to make sure the groom is happy.”
“I’m never going to wear this, you know.”
He slid his arms around her and whispered, “Stranger things have happened.”
She couldn’t argue with that. This whole marriage pact was incredibly strange. The butterflies in her tummy were stranger, still. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d been so sexually charged she wanted to jump out of her own skin. Or jump into bed with a man she barely knew. Easy. Never.
For her own protection, Paris wrested away from Dallas and strode to the door. “Now run along like a good boy, and take your suitcase with you.”
He headed toward her, a determined look on his face. “They’re both yours. I have everything I need in my bedroom. Almost everything.”
She didn’t have to ask what he meant by that. “Before you go, is it safe to take a walk before bed?”
“Sure. Go out the back door and you’ll find a path to the lake.”
“Is it well lit?”
“The moon is full tonight. That’s enough light for you to see where you’re going. Just don’t fall into the water. And watch out for snakes.”
She cringed. “Snakes?”
He had the gall to grin. “Just kidding. The cats keep them away.”
“Cats?”
“Yeah. Big ones. Attack cats. But they’ve been trained not to bother pretty girls.”
With that, he exited, closing the door behind him, leaving Paris alone to unpack, and ponder how she would find the strength of will to ignore his overtures, and her own needs.
She returned to the suitcases, thankful to find something other than naughty negligees in the mix. In the smaller one, Jenny had packed every toiletry known to womankind, and enough underwear to last two months, not two days. The woman had also packed jeans and a few T-shirts, and from those Paris picked her favorite coral knit top and pair of seen-better-days denim with a slash above the right knee, a small hole on the inside of her left thigh, and a pocket that was barely hanging on. That suited her current state of mind.
After exchanging her formal dress for comfort, she kicked out of her heels and donned the slide-on sneakers that had been stashed in a side pocket. Now she felt more human, if not more calm. Too bad they’d left the champagne in the limo.
She didn’t need alcohol, she needed some peace and quiet. Time alone to reflect. With that in mind, she headed into the hall and located the well-equipped kitchen—which was almost as nice as the one back at the ranch—then made her way out the back door.
Dallas had been right about the moon. It cast the manicured lawn in an amber glow and helped guide Paris down the dirt path toward a copse of trees. Fortunately someone had had the foresight to cut a wide clearing in the woods, otherwise she might have been hesitant to continue. A few yards away she could see the shimmering lake and headed in that direction, all the while aware of the sounds of nature, including what sounded like an owl. She managed to make it to the dock without stepping on a critter or coming upon the attack cats.
Once there, she strolled to the end of the pier and lowered herself onto the wooden slats, then hugged her knees to her chest. A slight breeze blew across her face, bringing with it the pleasant scent of cedar. She heard the sound of chirping and an occasional rustle of leaves, which might have unnerved her if she would have still been walking.
On afterthought, she rolled up her jeans, took off her shoes and dangled her feet in the water that was much colder than she’d predicted. But after a while she acclimated to the temperature change and rocked back on her elbows to study the host of stars in the night sky.
For the first time that day, she experienced true tranquility. A sense of well-being as she soaked her sore feet in silence.
“Mind if I join you?”
Paris gasped and nearly vaulted right into the water. She shifted around, palm against her pounding heart, to find Dallas standing above her. “Jeez, you scared me to death!”
He sat beside her without waiting for an invitation and draped his arms on bent knees. “Did you think I was a snake? Or maybe one of the tomcats. Just so you know, they don’t talk.”
“You startled me because I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Next time I’ll whistle.”
Like that would help her anxiety over being accosted by random wildlife. “I’m surprised I didn’t hear you.”
“No kidding. This dock creaks like box springs on an old iron bed.”
No real shock he would bring up a bed analogy. “I was very deep in thought.”
“About?”
“Today. This whole thing seems so surreal.”
He shifted slightly, leading Paris to believe maybe he was suffering from bride remorse. “Yeah, I know. Never thought it would happen to me.”
Her conjecture could very well be right. She wouldn’t know what might be on his mind unless she asked. “So what brings you here, other than this bizarre situation?”
“I owe you an apology.”
That she hadn’t expected. “For what?”
“I’m sorry for coming on too strong. But I won’t apologize for wanting you so badly I ache.”
She’d never felt so flattered in her life. “Apology accepted, and I’d be telling one colossal lie if I said I wasn’t extremely attracted to you. But—”
“But what?” He gave her a meaningful look. “If you’re worried about the whole annulment thing, I won’t tell if you won’t.”
“I won’t lie under oath. And I have a feeling your integrity won’t allow that either.”
His sigh cut through the silence. “You’re right about that. One thing I learned from my father, deception takes no prisoners. I do think we can find other ways to answer our needs.”
Was he suggesting an open marriage? “If you’re going to ask if you can see other women, that’s your call, but rest assured I wouldn’t feel right seeing other men.”
“I’m not saying that at all,” he said. “We can explore each other without going beyond the limits.”
“You mean only foreplay?”
“You got it, darlin’. It’s my favorite kind of play.”
The thought of his hands on her made her shiver in a very nice way. “That would certainly be new and different for me.”
He frowned. “Your husband wasn’t into foreplay?”
The understatement of the millennium. “Let me sum up our sex life in a few words. Hi, Paris, just passing through, only have a minute, got to go, see you later. That happened about once a week unless he wasn’t in the mood. He always said I was too uptight about my body, but what did he expect when all he did was criticize me?”
“Why in the hell were you with that ass?”
The sheer anger in his voice took her aback. “I was young and stupid. He was my first lover and the first man who really paid attention to me. At least in the