Her Torrid Temporary Marriage

“Mattie, for corn’s sake, sit down!” Irma Ryan stared at her granddaughter. “And I think you should take your hair out of that infernal braid and wear a dress.”

“I feel more comfortable in jeans,” Mattie remarked, locking her fingers together nervously, looking at her diminutive, white-haired grandmother and idly wondering why all the other females in the Ryan family were under five and a half feet tall. Irma was dwarfed by the old maple rocking chair. Her feet, clad in sneakers, were propped on a lower rung, the white toes peeping out beneath the hem of jeans.

“I don’t think you should be ready and waiting. Let Josh come sit and talk with me awhile.”

“All he wants to do is talk business. He’s interested in acquiring part of the ranch.”

“Nonsense! He wouldn’t ask you to dinner at his house if all he wanted was to try to buy some land. Mattie, you should listen to me.”

Mattie’s conscience hurt. She couldn’t recall ever lying to Gran in her life, but she also couldn’t bring herself to tell Gran that Josh Brand had asked her to marry him. Gran would be planning the wedding down to the last detail.

“I hear a car,” Mattie said, going to the front window to shift a lace curtain and look at the black pickup coming up the road toward the house. Why did she feel destiny was driving full tilt to her door?

“Go back to your room, and Lottie will let him in. That’s her job.”

In spite of her nervousness, Mattie laughed. “You and Lottie both want to look him over.”

“Of course we do,” Gran admitted. “Lottie’s worked for us since you were a baby. She’s like a mother to you, and she’d like to see the man who wants to take you out.”

“It’s not that big a deal.”

“Mattie, don’t you dare leave without bringing him in here to see me. Now humor your granny and go to your room and let me talk to him. I haven’t really had ten words with a good-looking young man in years.”

“And you don’t need to start tonight.”

“Please,” Irma said, gazing through her bifocals with wide blue eyes. “I don’t get to do many things I enjoy.”

Mattie threw up her hands and left the room. Her grandmother got to do plenty that she enjoyed, from chewing tobacco to playing poker in town on Saturday afternoons with a bunch of old codgers.

When the bell chimed, Lottie Needham hurried from the kitchen. Her gray hair was a cap of curls around a rosy face, and she smiled at Mattie. “I know Miz Ryan wants to meet your beau.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Lottie, he’s not my beau!” Mattie paused and bit her lip, waving her hand at the short, stout woman who was like part of the family. “Go ahead and get the door. I’ll be in my room.”

Mattie hurried upstairs and down the hall, going to the window to look down at the black pickup. She turned, glancing again in the mirror. She had scrubbed and washed her hair and tried on half a dozen different outfits, deciding in exasperation to dress like she would any other night. She wore jeans, a blue shirt and had braided her hair. And she had only the tiniest bit more makeup than she always wore. How could she spend the evening with Josh? She didn’t know how to make small talk, and all he wanted was a business deal that she could not agree to. Wiping her damp palms against her jeans, she went downstairs.

Halfway down the stairs she heard Josh’s voice and his laughter. Now what had Gran said to make him laugh? Then Gran burst out laughing.

“You two sound as if you are enjoying yourselves,” Mattie said, entering the room. “Evening, Josh.”

He unfolded his long frame from the sofa and stood, his dark gaze sweeping over her in a manner that made her skin tingle. He had changed clothes since earlier m the day. As she expected, he was in jeans. He wore a navy shirt with the sleeves turned back. His long black hair was tied behind his head with a bit of rawhide. He was darkly handsome; a devil in blue jeans trying to buy her soul. In spite of that, her pulse jumped at the sight of him. Whether she liked it or not, he stirred a primitive reaction in her. At the same time, her awareness of him made her doubly nervous in his presence.

“Hi, Mattie,” he said quietly. “If you’re ready, we’ll be going. Irma, I enjoyed talking to you.”

“You come again,” Gran said happily.

“I intend to,” he answered with equal cheer. He took Mattie’s arm lightly as they left the room. Their boots scraped the polished hardwood floor, and as they passed the floor-to-ceiling gilt-framed mirror she glanced at their image, shocked again at how tall he was. She usually towered over men or was at least their height. But not Josh. His size and strength were impressive.

“You look pretty,” he said quietly, and she glanced up.

“Thank you,” she answered, without believing he really meant what he’d said.

They left the house and crossed the porch, descending the steps to his pickup where he opened the door for her. She reached for the handle at the same moment, and her hand closed over his.

“Sorry,” she said, flushing, wondering if he had any idea how seldom she had been out with a man. She climbed inside the pickup, then watched him go around and slide behind the wheel.

“Your grandmother is interesting. I can’t remember ever talking to her much before.”

“She’s a character. She’s had two heart attacks, and it’s still a shock to realize that she outlived my dad. I always thought I would have him forever.”

“Yeah, I know,” Josh answered gruffly, and she realized she had struck a nerve and he was probably thinking about his wife.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to remind you of your loss.”

“That’s all right. I have to live with it.”

“Where’s Elizabeth?”

“Rosalie, my cook, is watching her tonight.”

“Why don’t you get Rosalie to be a nanny as well as a cook?”

“How I wish! Rosalie is getting up in years, and her kids bought her a condo in Arizona. She’s leaving next month.”

Mattie felt awkward and uncomfortable and too aware of the man beside her. Her gaze ran over the rugged planes of his face, his strong cheekbones, his mouth that was faintly chapped, yet as appealing as the rest of him. He exuded an aura of self-confidence that increased her nervousness. Afraid he would catch her staring, she turned to look at the land flashing past them, the stands of oaks on the hillsides, the fresh arrival of spring wildflowers. “We got a lot of rain last week,” she remarked.

“Glad to have it. You’ve got good water on your land with Cotton Creek.”

“Yes, thank heaven,” she replied, knowing she had better water resources than he did and wondering if that was a large part of what prompted his proposal.

“Josh, this really is impossible,” she blurted nervously. The man tied her in knots. He was appealing, sexy, popular with everyone in the county—she didn’t belong with him.

“What’s impossible?” he asked easily. “My proposal?”

“Yes. I don’t think you’ve given enough thought to it.” She fished in her pocket and withdrew a slip of paper. “I sat down and thought of the women I know who live here and can marry you.”

He laughed, a throaty chuckle that sent tingles spiraling through her. “Did you now! How do you know what kind of woman I would like to marry?”

“You proposed to me—and I’m all but a stranger—so you’re obviously not particular.”

“I’m damned particular. I gave this a lot of thought already,” he said, shooting her a glance that made her toes curl. Momentarily she forgot her list as she thought about Josh Brand spending hours thinking about her and considering her as marriage material. Even if it was a loveless marriage, it still involved getting emotionally entangled. The idea of emotional entanglement with the man beside her took her breath away.

“Well, go ahead. Who’s on your list?” he asked with amusement.

She straightened the paper. “How about Reba Talmadge?”

He shook his head. “Too unreliable.”

“Reba?” Reba lived in Latimer and was the town librarian in Spencer, a neighboring town. As far as Mattie knew, Reba was practical and reliable and rather attractive. And she had just broken an engagement.