Kathie DeNosky - His Marriage Pact

She thought for a minute there she might swallow her tongue due to his sheer male perfection. “You should have woken me sooner.”

“I tried.”

“Apparently not very hard.”

“I nearly shook your shoulder off, but you didn’t budge.” He cracked a crooked smile. “How’s your head?”

“Fuzzy.” But not so fuzzy that she couldn’t recall what a fool she’d made of herself.

“Need an aspirin?” he asked as he tucked his shirt into the jeans’ waistband.

She needed an escape route when she noticed her skirt and top hanging on the end of the bedpost. “No, I’m fine,” she said as she clutched the covers tighter. “I do need to get dressed and go home.”

He barked out a laugh. “That’s usually my morning line.”

It suddenly occurred to her she might not remember everything about their evening, although she couldn’t imagine forgetting that. “Uh, we didn’t do anything...you know.”

He buckled his belt and approached the side of the bed. “Unfortunately ‘you know’ wasn’t involved. You did strip down to your underwear, but I didn’t look.”

“I’ve definitely heard that before.” She determined an amendment would be best before he assumed she slept around. “From my ex-husband, and he was telling the truth. He rarely looked at me the last few years of our wedded non-bliss.”

“Your husband sounds like an idiot. No offense.”

“No offense taken. You’ve pegged him right, although my actions last evening would probably qualify as idiotic. I’m so sorry I subjected you to that.”

He grabbed an off-white straw cowboy hat hanging from a hook near the door. “Look, you had a little too much to drink. It happens.”

“Not to me,” she muttered. “I can’t recall ever drinking so much that I took off my clothes and climbed into a stranger’s bed.”

“Darlin’, since all you did was climb into my bed, I think you can stop worrying about your actions.”

“But I kissed you. Or at least I think I did.”

His grin expanded. “Oh, yeah, you did. And you won’t hear me complainin’ about that at all.”

At least that was reassuring. “I want to be clear I have never done anything like this before.”

“Kissed someone?”

“Kissed someone I just met.”

“I kind of like knowing I was your first.”

“I like knowing you’re not completely disgusted with me.”

“Nothing about you disgusts me, sweetheart.” He settled the hat on his head and smiled. “Stay in bed as long as you’d like, and I’ll see you in a bit.”

“In bed?” Now why had she said something so leading and ludicrous?

He didn’t seem at all affected by the faux pas. “Is that an invitation?”

She shook her aching head. “No. Just proof that I sometimes speak before I think.”

He winked. “That’s too bad.”

Paris fought the temptation to tell him she’d reconsidered. “Where are you going now?”

“I have to check on some of the livestock.”

“Well, I guess I’ll just say goodbye then. I’ll probably be on my way home before you get back.”

“You can’t leave yet. Jenny went to town this morning and bought you a dress and some underclothes and laundered them. She left them in the bathroom along with some toiletries. She’s also keeping breakfast warm for you.”

Jenny could be nominated for Southern sainthood, in her opinion. But how embarrassing to have one of the Calloway stepmothers learn she’d spent the night in the stepson’s bed. “Although I appreciate the gesture, that’s not really necessary. I’ll just put on the clothes I wore last night and get out of your hair.”

“I want you to stay a while longer so we can talk.”

“About what?”

“Business,” he said as he clasped the knob and opened the door. “So don’t go anywhere.”

Paris fought the urge to salute over his demanding tone, but Dallas had already disappeared before she could deliver the gesture. Assured he had left the premises, she slipped out of bed and wandered into the bathroom. Spa bathroom.

The beige marble tub seemed as large as her whole apartment, and so was the stone shower. She had a good mind to take a soak, but she didn’t want to prolong her stay in Dallas’s domain or delay the breakfast Jenny had prepared.

She retrieved shampoo and shower gel from the basket on the double vanity, gathered a towel from the heated rack on the wall, then took a quick spray until she finally felt somewhat refreshed and energized.

She dressed in the aforementioned underwear, and donned the yellow sundress hanging on a hook on the back of the door. Evidently Jenny had thought of everything, right down to the matching sandals and hair dryer.

After completing the morning ritual, Paris strode back into the bedroom where she thankfully found her case that held her makeup bag. She didn’t have her complete beauty arsenal, but she did have mascara and lip gloss, which would have to do.

After pulling her hair back into a low ponytail, Paris carefully folded her suit, shoved it into the bag and then headed toward the luscious scents wafting through the hallway. Once there, she found Jenny standing at the massive six-burner stainless stove, flipping pancakes, surrounded by a chef’s dream kitchen. She had finally uncovered the one place that shouted ultramodern, not macho rustic.

“Good morning, Jenny,” she said as she sent her a somewhat self-conscious smile.

The friendly stepmom favored her with a bright grin. “Good morning to you, sugar. Did you sleep well?”

“Like a rock.” Like a drunken sailor. “The mint juleps saw to that.”

Jenny pushed the spatula under one cake and slid it onto a plate. “I am so sorry, sugar. I didn’t know you were such a lightweight.”

Paris leaned against the cabinet adjacent to the huge fridge and rested an elbow on the gray quartz countertop. “I really don’t drink too often. Just the occasional glass of wine.”

Jenny sent her a sideways glance. “Would you like a mimosa? Or perhaps a screwdriver. Nothing relieves a hangover better than that old hair of the hound dog.”

The thought twisted her stomach into a knot. “Heavens no. I mean, no thank you. I wouldn’t mind some orange juice, without the champagne or vodka.”

Jenny retrieved a pitcher of juice from the refrigerator, poured Paris a glass and handed it to her. “You’re not from the South, are you, sugar?”

“No. Why?”

“Because good Southern girls like their toddies now and again.”

Now and again could possibly be an understatement when it came to Jenny. “I’m not really from anywhere. My family traveled all over the country during my youth.”

That earned Paris a sympathetic look. “Everyone should have a place to call home, honey. Mine was the New Orleans area, until I moved here.”

Paris had fond memories of New Orleans, the place where she’d headed her first hotel design project. Little had she known that a few years later, she would suffer a major fall from grace. “Do you miss Louisiana?”

Jenny shrugged. “At times, but I can always go back whenever I choose.”

She gestured toward a small bistro table set near a bank of windows at the end of the expansive kitchen. “Have a seat, sugar. How many slices of bacon with your pancakes?”

Apparently Jenny had forgotten the meal she’d prepared the night before. “None, please. And only one pancake.”

The woman looked as if Paris had uttered the ultimate blasphemy. “Oh, that’s right. You’re a vegetarian.”

After setting her glass on the round table, Paris pulled back a cute red chair and sat. The color definitely indicated a woman’s touch, and most likely an unwelcome concession on Dallas’s part. “I do eat eggs and some seafood. I just avoid pork, poultry and beef.”