He offered her the pole. “Want to try for something bigger?”
“Are you referring to a fish?” she teased.
“Well, sweetheart, what else do you have in mind?”
“Maybe I’ll show you later this evening.” She took the rod and this time managed to cast it all by herself. “How was that?”
“Looks like you’re a fast learner.”
She handed him back the pole. “But I’m not very patient. You fish, I’ll just kick back on the deck, get some sun and watch you bring in dinner.”
He nodded toward the hatch. “There’s a towel in there, so have fun. But don’t get too comfortable because we might not be here much longer. It’s almost time for lunch.”
Paris realized she hadn’t eaten a thing since the whole grain bar she’d consumed in the bedroom following her novice strip tease. “I admit I’m getting a little hungry, too.”
After casting toward the bank, Dallas shot her a grin. “From this point forward, you can always depend on me to take care of all your appetites. How am I doing so far?”
She returned his smile. “Best fishing trip ever.”
And she couldn’t wait to find out what else he had planned.
His plans for Paris had unfortunately been put on hold.
The woman had been so relaxed that immediately after she’d eaten lunch—if you wanted to call a tomato and lettuce sandwich lunch—she’d taken a nap. A long nap.
His mind whirled back to earlier in the day, when she’d been as hot as a branding iron and quick to fire. The bastard she’d married had done a number on her, and he really wanted to right the wrongs. Show her all the ways a man could please a woman. Convince her that she was as close to perfect as they come. No doubt he’d be up for the challenge, in every way possible.
Dallas had thought about joining her in bed, but he’d taken a trip to the nearest grocery store—fifteen miles away—then returned a few calls, including one from his attorney. As a result of that conversation, he had to break some serious news that wouldn’t make Paris happy in the least. She might not want anything more to do with him.
And now, with the sun working its way down the horizon, Dallas grabbed a beer, fired up the grill and contemplated how he would tell her the sorry news. He didn’t have a lot of time left, he realized, when Paris made an appearance on the back deck a few minutes later, looking like she’d walked right off the cover of a fashion magazine.
Her straight blond hair fell past her shoulders like homespun silk. She wore just enough makeup to show off her features to full advantage, and a short blue dress with thin straps that showed enough cleavage to make him want to growl. He couldn’t believe his luck in finding such a good-looking fake wife.
She kicked off her flip-flops, curled up on the wicker sofa and pulled her legs beneath her on the blue cushions. “Whatcha doing, cowboy?”
Imagining what it would be like to make fast, hard love to you on that sofa. For the sake of distraction, Dallas turned the burgers before lowering the lid on the grill to regard her again. “I’m making us some dinner. You must’ve been really tired considering how long you slept.”
“I only slept about an hour. I spent the rest of the time rehearsing what I would tell my parents about our marriage and then I called them.”
He would have liked to have been a fly on the wall during that conversation. “How did it go?”
She shrugged. “As expected. My mom bemoaned the fact that once again she didn’t have the opportunity to throw a lavish wedding for her youngest daughter due to a whirlwind courtship. The conversation with my dad wasn’t much better.”
“What did he say?”
“He said, and I quote, ‘This guy better not treat you as poorly as that other SOB.’ And then he went on to say to let him know where he can find Peter so he can beat the...well...some sense into him.”
Although Dallas could understand her father’s attitude toward the ex-husband, he didn’t like the thought of winding up on the wrong side of a retired military man when that man learned his daughter’s latest marriage wasn’t permanent. “How big is your dad?”
“How tall are you?”
“Six-two.”
“He’s five inches shorter and stocky. My mom is five-seven, and so is my sister. I fell on the shorter side at five-five.”
“I would’ve guessed you to be a little bit taller. Must be those long legs.”
“Must be your imagination.”
Yeah, his imagination was running amok when he thought about having those legs wrapped around his waist. Again he looked to his cooking duty to keep him from acting on his fantasies. At least until he could confess...after dinner.
“Speaking of family dynamics,” Paris began, “I assume all your brothers know about the will, but do they know that our marriage isn’t exactly the real thing?”
“They’re all pretty busy right now so I’m not sure what Jen or Maria have told them. I plan to say as little as possible when we get back to the ranch.”
“Do you think they would actually believe you would rush into a marriage on a whim because of a will?”
Probably not. “It doesn’t matter what they believe. It’s an unspoken rule that we don’t get into each other’s business.”
After a span of silence, Paris leaned slightly and studied the grill. “Color me crazy, Dallas, but those look a lot like beef patties.”
“Only two of them,” he said as he flipped them again before turning back to Paris. “I found some kind of veggie burgers at the store. I figured they couldn’t be too bad. Heck, you could serve up a boot as long as you’ve grilled it with mesquite wood chips.”
“Heavens, I hope it doesn’t taste like a boot.”
Honestly, so did Dallas. He didn’t want to let her down, although he suspected he eventually would before night’s end. “The cashier who checked me out told me she loved them.”
“I’ll bet she checked you out thoroughly.”
The jealously in her voice surprised him, and in some ways pleased him. “She had to be at least sixty-five.”
She lifted her chin. “Just because a woman matures doesn’t mean she can’t recognize a sexy cowboy when she sees one.”
“And just because I’m a man doesn’t mean I’m gonna flirt with a grandmother.”
“Men flirt with any woman who’ll flirt back.”
At least she’d said it with a smile. She wouldn’t be smiling when he lowered the legal boom. “Do you want something to drink?”
“I wouldn’t turn down a glass of white wine, if you happen to have some. If not, water will work.”
“I have wine.” Thankfully he’d had the foresight to stock up a few months ago, the last time he’d had a female guest at the cabin. The last time he’d had a woman, period. Tina, or maybe it was Terry. What the hell did it matter? He’d only spent one weekend with her. Plus, she couldn’t hold a candle to Paris in any way, shape or form.
When Paris came to her feet, Dallas caught a good glimpse of a thigh and one stubborn part of him stood, too. He needed