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  She caught her breath, and the tears overflowed onto his shirt, his throat.

  “I didn’t even have the price of a bus ticket.” He laughed huskily, his voice tormented with memory. “And I knew that without you, the land wouldn’t matter, because I couldn’t live. I couldn’t stay alive. So I sold the oil rights and I bought a car and I called Sally Wade. And then, I parked across the street to watch for you. And you came out,” he said roughly, “laughing and looking so beautiful...holding on to that redheaded ass’s arm! I could have broken your neck!”

  “He was my friend. Nothing more.” She nuzzled her face against him. “I thought you wanted revenge. I didn’t realize...!”

  “I wouldn’t let Consuelo touch your room, did she tell you?” he whispered. “I left it the way it was. For the first week or so...I could still catch the scent of you on the pillow...” His voice broke, and she searched blindly for his mouth, and gave him comfort in the only way she could.

  Her fingers touched his face, loved it; her lips told him things, secrets, that even words wouldn’t. Gently, tenderly, she drew him up onto the sofa with her, and eased down beside him on it. And with her mouth and her hands and her body, she told him in the sweetest possible way that he’d never be alone as long as she lived.

  “We can’t,” he whispered, trembling.

  “Why?” she moaned softly.

  “Because I want you in church, Jenny Wren,” he whispered, easing her onto her side, soothing her with his hands and his mouth. “I want it all to be just right. I want to hear the words and watch your face when you say them, and tell the whole world that you’re my woman. And then,” he breathed softly, “then we’ll make love and celebrate in the sweetest, most complete way there is. But not like this, darling. Not on a sofa, without the rings or the words or the beauty of taking our vows together.” He drew back and looked into her damp eyes. “You’ll want that, when you look back on our first time. You’ll want it when the children are old enough to be told how we met, how we married. You won’t want a tarnished memory to put in your scrapbook.”

  She kissed him softly. “Thank you.”

  “I love you,” he said, smiling. “I can wait. If,” he added with a lift of his eyebrow, “you’ll put your clothes back on and stop trying to lead me into a life of sin.”

  “I haven’t taken them off,” she protested.

  “You have.” He got up and looked down at her, with the dress around her waist.

  “Well, look at you,” she grumbled. His shirt was off and out of his trousers, and his belt was unbuckled.

  “You did it,” he accused.

  She burst out laughing as she buttoned buttons. “I suppose I did. Imagine me, actually trying to seduce you. And after all the times I accused you of it!”

  “I don’t remember complaining,” he remarked.

  She got to her feet and went into his arms with a warm sigh. “Me, either. How soon can we get married?”

  “How about Friday?”

  “Three days?” she groaned.

  “You can take cold showers,” he promised her. “And finish decorating the house. You’re not going to have a lot of time for decorating after we’re married.”

  “I’m not, huh?” she murmured. “What will I be doing?”

  “I hoped you might ask,” he returned with a smile. He bent his head, lifting her gently in his arms. “This is what you’ll be doing.” And he kissed her with such tenderness that she felt tears running down her warm cheeks. Since it seemed like such a lovely occupation, she didn’t even protest. After all, she’d have plenty of time for decorating when the children started school. Meanwhile, Everett showed promise of being a full-time job.

  * * * * *

  New York Times Bestselling Author

  He’s everything she fears…and everything she wants.

  Mercenary by name and by nature, Carson is a Lakota Sioux who stays to himself and never keeps women around long enough for anything emotional to develop. But working with his friend Cash Grier on a complex murder investigation provides Carson with another kind of fun—shocking Cash’s sweet-but-traditional secretary, Carlie Blair, with tales of his latest conquests.

  Then Carlie lands in deep trouble. She saw something she shouldn’t have, and now the face of a criminal is stored permanently in her photographic memory…and Carlie is the key piece of evidence that could implicate a popular politician in the murder case.

  Her only protection is Carson—the man she once despised. But when she learns that Carson is more than just a tough guy, Carlie realizes she’s endangered herself further. Because now her only chance to live means losing her heart to the most dangerous kind of man….

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  ISBN-13: 9781460340042

  PASSION FLOWER

  Copyright © 1984 by DIANA PALMER

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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