Martha Shields - The Princess And The Cowboy

More than relief flowed through her. As she remembered how his big, hard body had felt against hers, how his lips had nearly caused her to spontaneously combust, her heart began pounding like the drums that had welcomed her on her state visit to Kenya. The sensation distracted her so much she didn’t realize he was looking for her until he called her name.

“Sssshhhh!”

Buck peered into the shadows on the parking lot and saw a piquant face surrounded by enormous blond hair peeking around the cab of a truck. Relief flooded through him. “What are you—”

“Come here.” She waved him over. “Hurry, please.”

Her impatience made him recall the desire biting at him ever since they’d parted. He grinned as he joined her behind the truck. “Want another kiss, sweetheart? Well, here I come—ready, willing and more than able.”

She grabbed his arm and hauled him into her hiding place, glancing nervously behind him as she did. “Can we leave now, please?”

A little miffed that she hadn’t wanted the embrace he’d been craving for over an hour, he pushed his hat back. “I reckon. What did you do with your mare?”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Oh. I had to give her back. She wasn’t mine.”

He nodded. Borrowing mounts at rodeos was as common as muddy jeans from dirt landings. Still, he had the feeling something wasn’t altogether what it should be. Josie didn’t act like a woman excited about getting hitched. She didn’t seem excited at all. She seemed distracted, worried…almost scared.

He cussed as the most likely possibility hit him. “You running away from something, sweetheart?”

Her only answer was to look away guiltily.

Damn. He knew his trailer-park queen was too good to be true. “What is it? The law? Or am I going to have a jealous husband breathing down my neck any minute?”

She was clearly horrified. “Would I be marrying you if I was already married?”

He shrugged. “It’s not legal, but it’s been done.”

She shook her head vehemently, which made her blond hair slip a bit to the side, enough to release a dark lock of hair.

Buck smiled. A wig. Who wore wigs but old women and trailer-park queens?

She really was the kind of woman he was looking for.

“Nothing like that, I promise,” she insisted. “It’s…my father. He wants me to marry a man I don’t want to marry. I have to get away from here as soon as possible. Please help me.”

Her obvious anxiety and the fact that she didn’t evade the question made Buck believe her. Or maybe it was because his own parents were trying to do the same thing to him.

He drew a finger across the satin smoothness of her jaw. “I bet the guy’s rich, isn’t he?”

She nodded solemnly. “Will you help me? Please? I don’t have any money at the moment, but I do have a couple of pieces of jewelry I can sell that should bring enough money to pay you.”

“Pay me?” Buck chuckled at the ridiculous notion. At least it proved she didn’t know who he was. Relieved she wasn’t a gold digger planning to alimony him out of his money, he slipped his free hand around her back and bent to kiss her temple. “That’s cute, sweetheart. Of course I’ll help you, but you don’t have to pay me.”

She craned her neck so she could see him. “Yes, I do. You’ll understand more when I tell you what my conditions are. But please, can we talk about them on the way to Reno?”

“I just have one question. How old are you?”

She looked puzzled, but answered, “I’ll be twenty-five in three weeks. Why?”

“You’re legal. Good. Just checking.” He gathered his gelding’s reins closer. “You have any suitcases?”

She shook her head.

Hell, she really was running away. “Let me load Agamemnon and pick up my check, then we’ll head on out.”

“If you’ll show me where your trailer is, I’ll load your gelding while you pick up the check. It’ll be faster.”

His gaze swept her worried face. “Someone’s here right now, looking for you, aren’t they?”

She hesitated, then nodded.

“Hell, my check’s not that big. We’ll just go ahead and—”

“No.” She placed a hand on his arm. “You need your check. Melis—Um, I know how rodeo cowboys live.”

He wasn’t going to tell her that he always signed his rodeo checks over to the next charity he came across. His only stipulation was that the donation remain anonymous. He didn’t want to let his rodeo buddies know he needed these checks about as much as the Double Star needed hills.

“All right.” He pointed out his red Chevrolet truck attached to a two-horse trailer with a built-in camper. Both were battered, with chipped paint. He’d spent several days making them look that way. Inside they weren’t fancy, but both held all the basic comforts a man or horse could want. “There’s my rig. It’s not locked.”

She nodded and moved her hands to Aggie’s reins. She stroked the horse’s nose as she let him nuzzle her hand to smell her scent, then she moved to each side of the gelding so he could see her out of both eyes. “Sounds like you performed well tonight. You deserve a good rubdown.”

The evidence that she knew and respected horses made Buck’s admiration rise even more. He brushed his mouth against hers. “I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

Even if he had to hound the rodeo secretary to sign his check.

“Isn’t that wig uncomfortable?”

Startled by Buck’s question, Josie turned from the side mirror where she’d been watching for vehicles that might be following them. They’d left Auburn twenty minutes ago, heading into the mountains toward the Nevada state line. Up to now, Buck had been quiet, intent on guiding his rig onto the 180.

“Wig?” She had a moment of panic, having been convinced she’d had everyone fooled.

For an answer, he reached across and tugged at a strand of dark hair lying on her cheek. He pulled until the long tress was free from beneath the wig. “You’re not a blonde.”

Her stomach fluttered at the way he was caressing the black strand, and she drew it from the masculine fingers. “Does that matter?”

“Not at all.” He sent a glance down her form. “It just makes me wonder what else isn’t real.”

Since he was eyeing her overly generous bust, she sighed. He might as well know the worst now. First she eased the wig off her head. She couldn’t suppress a moan of relief when the pressure of the tight band holding it in place was gone.

Strands of hair escaped her once-perfect chignon, but she couldn’t make any repairs at the moment other than pushing them off her face. Then, casting an uneasy glance at Buck, she reached inside the sequined weskit and began pulling tissues from the bodice.

When he saw what she was doing, Buck smiled, then chuckled. The next time he glanced over, he started laughing out loud. The more tissues she took out, the harder he laughed.

When she was finally finished, she glared at him.

He looked at her, and kept laughing.

A smile tugged at Josie’s lips, and when she glanced down at the mountain of tissues on her lap, she let her lips curve.

“Is there anything left of you in there?” he asked, wiping at tears of mirth.

Josie held the weskit against her bust. “Not all that much, I’m afraid. I guess it was false advertising, but I needed a disguise. If you want to back out of the deal, I’ll understand.”

“No, I definitely want in.”

His voice had such a husky quality, she glanced at him. The hot looks he was sending her between glances at the highway surprised her. She’d caught looks of unbridled lust on men before, but never directed at her. No man had been so lacking in manners as to openly desire Princess Joséphene of Montclaire. It just wasn’t done.