The Cowboy's Seductive Proposal. Sara Orwig

had dreamed of marriage. In all those fantasies she had always imagined dating someone for a long time, then getting engaged, followed by months of planning for the wedding.

      Too aware of the slightest contact with him, she dropped her hands to her sides. Jared still held her firmly, his arms around her waist, even though she wiggled to move away. “We can’t marry,” she continued. “If I ever marry, I will be wildly in love. I will have dated him for a long time and known him even longer. My family will know him. We’ll like the same things, have the same background—”

      “That’s not what your kisses just told me,” Jared whispered, brushing a kiss across her temple that made her pulse jump again.

      “How many women have you proposed to?” she snapped, flustered.

      “Only one, just now,” he said so solemnly it took her breath away.

      “We’re strangers and we’re not in love.”

      “I need a mother for Merry. I want a woman in my life. I’m ready to settle down, and you’re perfect.”

      She closed her eyes, her mind reeling. “Get a nanny. Get out and date. You can’t know that I’m perfect for you.”

      “Yes, I do,” he answered quietly, and with a firmness that made her want to grind her teeth.

      “Well, even if all that is so, there’s nothing in it for me. I don’t want to marry. I don’t know you. You’re not perfect for my life—far from it. You’re so unlike me. By your own admission, you’re wild, a drifter, a cowboy. What makes you think you’re ready to settle?”

      “Merry. Because of her, I know I’m ready to settle. Darlin’, I’ve seen the world and done everything I wanted to as a single guy. That life is done and over. I’ve grown up.”

      She wiggled again, and he released her. She moved a few steps away and turned to look at him. He stood with his hands on his hips, waiting, looking patient and satisfied. And so damnably sexy!

      “We don’t know each other! I don’t even know how old you are.”

      “Twenty-six.”

      “Oh, my word!” She reeled at his answer. “There! That’s reason enough. I’m older than you.”

      He stepped close again, and her breath caught in her throat. He tilted her face while he shook his head. “In years you may be older, but not in experience. You thought I was older, didn’t you?”

      “Yes.” The word was a whisper because she knew he had won this argument. She looked at the scar across his cheek, the tiny lines that fanned from the corners of his eyes, the knowledge held in his dark eyes, and she knew that of the two of them, anyone would think he was the older. And when he kissed her, she felt like a young, inexperienced girl.

      “How old are you?”

      “Twenty-nine,” she answered grudgingly.

      “Ahh, the thirtieth birthday approaches. How soon is it?”

      “Six months.” She glared at him, because that milestone had been worrying her more and more often.

      “Your biological clock is ticking, Faith. Now I’ve told you what I want and what I’d be getting. Let’s talk about what you want and what you’d be getting.”

      “I want my career and I’d lose it!” She had the feeling she was hanging on the edge of a cliff and slowly slipping into a bottomless chasm. She could feel ground crumbling beneath her grasping fingertips. At the same time, deep inside, she thrummed with an excitement that she tried to ignore.

      “I don’t think that’s what you want at all.” He reached behind his head, unfastened the leather thong and shook his head. Black hair swirled around his face, emphasizing his wildness, and the differences in their life-styles. “You’ve got your career. You’ve moved up to a lot of responsibility and you like your work, but it’s not enough all by itself, is it?”