Ruth Dale - Fiance Wanted

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 have kissed her.

“Yuck!” She made spitting noises. “I can’t believe I said that—saying good-night. I’m ashamed of myself.” She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, thinking he looked mighty smug.

Sounded it, too, when he said, “I thought you did just fine. You can’t be subtle with Brandee, in case you didn’t know. Not that you’re noted for your subtlety or anything.”

“Is that a slam?” She stumbled over a broken patch of asphalt and he caught her arm to help her.

“Nah, that was the truth.”

They reached his pickup truck and stopped while he fumbled in his jeans pocket for the keys. They’d parked right beneath a street light where it was literally as bright as day.

“Got it.” He hauled out the keys triumphantly. “Just let me—damn!”

“What? What is it?”

“Brandee and a bunch of her friends, standing over there in the shadows watching.” He spoke in a muted whisper.

“Where?”

“Don’t look!” He turned her away, so she was looking in another direction. “Apparently she still doesn’t believe us.”

Katy shrugged. “Not much we can do about that.”

“Yeah, there is.”

“Such as? We can’t drip water onto her forehead until she’s convinced. I don’t see—”

“Dammit, Katy, I guess I’d better kiss you.” He added hastily, “Of course, it’ll be like kissing my sister.”

“For sure,” she agreed, but her heart leaped crazily in her breast, “and a sister you don’t like at that.”

“Ready?”

He looked down at her, the light haloing his dark hair, his features completely obscured.

“You mean you weren’t kidding?” Her heart pounded a hundred miles an hour.

“Hell, no!”

“But I can’t just kiss you.”

“Why not? It’s easy.” He put his hands loosely on her shoulders.

She shivered. “B-because I’m not in the habit of kissing just anybody.”

“I’m not just anybody, I’m your soon-to-be fiancé.”

“Nevertheless, I c-can’t put my heart into it without some emotional content.”

‘’Emotional what? Look, Katy, we’re just talking about a kiss here. A very simple kiss between…between friends….”

He drew her a tiny fraction closer, despite her determination to hold back. He was strong, far stronger than she’d imagined, and she felt herself beginning to lose control of this situation.

“We’re not friends,” she managed to say. “We’re…we’re…”

He bent toward her. “What are we, Katy? Can’t wait to see what word you come up with.”

“We’re—” Doomed, she thought, lifting her hands to touch the wide shoulders while his hands drifted to her waist. “We’re going to put Brandee’s suspicions to rest once and for all, I hope.”

“That’s the spirit.”

His lips touched hers, and it was not like kissing her brother. It was like kissing Tom Cruise and Tom Selleck and all the other Toms all rolled into one. With her eyes tightly closed, she felt herself whisked away on a magic carpet to some mythical place where there were no more answers, only questions.

He lifted his head and he was breathing hard. “She’s gone,” he said in a voice that came out a little husky. “For a woman who doesn’t like kissing without emotional content, you’re damned good.”

Releasing her, he unlocked the cab of the pickup, opened the door and lifted her onto the high seat. This time when he grinned, the lamp illuminated his devilish expression clearly.

“Just for the record,” he said, “it was not like kissing my sister.”

To that, she had no response.

At the newspaper office Monday, Katy was met with smiles by everyone she met, up to and including her boss, John Reynolds, owner, publisher and editor of the Rawhide Review and the grandfather of Laura’s husband, Matt.