At First Touch. Tamara Sneed

by the fishnets. He gulped. Hard.

      Quinn avoided his eyes and smiled at Dorrie, who was looking at Quinn as if she wasn’t her favorite soap actress anymore.

      “Dorrie, it was wonderful to meet you. Maybe we can get together and I’ll give you more dirt about the show.”

      Dorrie murmured noncommittally, then sent Quinn a wan smile. Quinn glanced at Wyatt, then quickly turned and nearly ran out the diner. Wyatt would have felt some satisfaction, but Dorrie was looking at him with a strange expression. Two steps forward and twelve steps back.

      “Can we go?” Dorrie asked, glancing around the diner for the owner, Annie. “I have a client coming at one-thirty.”

      “Of course.” Wyatt pulled out his wallet, dug out enough cash to cover the bill and stood.

      He offered his hand to Dorrie, but she ignored it and stood on her own. She grabbed her coat from the booth, then walked out the diner without another glance in Wyatt’s direction.

      “Nice going, Wyatt,” someone yelled out dryly.

      Wyatt ignored the catcalls that followed and shrugged into his own coat before he hurried out the diner after her. Dorrie was already halfway down the street to her office. He ran to catch up with her.

      Quinn had said that it wasn’t over, and obviously it wasn’t. She was now determined to ruin his life.

      “Dorrie, wait,” he said, grabbing her arm.

      They stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. The withering look Dorrie gave his hand on her arm made him quickly release her. She relaxed a fraction, then glanced around Main Street. Thankfully, the street was almost deserted. Most people had gone back to their ranches, farms or stores. The lunch hour—as much as there was one in Sibleyville—was over.

      “I told you that I have an appointment,” Dorrie said stiffly.

      “I’m sorry about that,” he said, motioning back toward the diner. “Quinn and I had a little argument this morning when she stopped by the house—uninvited, I might add—and that’s all. There was nothing more to it.”

      “Quinn’s reaction to you didn’t seem like nothing,” Dorrie said quietly, avoiding his eyes.

      “Quinn is an actress.”

      “I’m not an idiot, Wyatt,” she said icily, her cheeks flushing with anger. Wyatt didn’t know whether to feel excited that he had finally gotten a reaction out of Dorrie or worried. “I saw the way you looked at her, and I saw the way she looked at you. The whole diner did.”

      “Quinn and I are friends,” he said, attempting to carefully walk through the minefield without losing any limbs.

      She snorted in disbelief, then appeared surprised that she had done anything so unladylike. She shook her head as the anger slowly drained from her face. “I don’t know why I’m getting so upset. You don’t owe me anything.”

      “Not yet.”

      Her expression grew guarded as she studied him. “What do you mean?”

      “I think you know how I feel about you, Dorrie. I really like you. I think you and I have a lot in common and want the same things for the future. I want to get to know you better.”

      A smile bloomed across her face and she instantly stared at the ground, as if she hadn’t meant to smile like that. Wyatt smiled, relieved.

      “I want to get to know you better, too,” she said softly.

      “Lunch? Same time tomorrow?”

      “I’d like that,” she said, finally meeting his eyes again.

      She waved, then walked into her office. Wyatt waited until the door closed, then cursed. Quinn wanted to know if he ever spoke. Well, he now had plenty to say to her. A lot, in fact.

      Chapter 6

      Quinn didn’t like to reward herself with food, but sometimes only the ability to eat anything she wanted could sufficiently reward a woman who normally ate no more than fifteen hundred calories a day. Quinn bit into the oversized cheeseburger she had picked up from another diner outside town, then stuffed several French fries in her mouth. She moaned in pleasure and leaned back against the pillows of the porch swing on the back porch of the house.

      She would never admit it, but this was her favorite spot in Sibleyville. Two large trees shadowed the back porch from the overhead sun. There were gentle rolling green hills as far as the eye could see punctuated by little bursts of wildflowers that bloomed in the summer.

      This afternoon there was a chill in the air, but the sun shone and the all-encompassing quiet was only interrupted by the occasional shrill of a bird call.

      She had changed out of her come-hither clothes into a pair of comfortable, worn jeans and one of Graham’s sweatshirts. As a result, she was warm for the first time since she had driven into Sibleyville last night. And she was actually eating. Real food. She almost felt content; maybe Sibleyville was not exactly the pit of hell she had always pictured. But then again, she was drowning her insides with fat and grease, and a girl was liable to feel anything under that influence.

      She chuckled to herself as she remembered Wyatt’s expression in the diner. An hour later and she still got a good laugh out of it. He had been furious. Annoyed. Pushed to the limit. Completely outmatched. By the time Charlie and Graham arrived in town in another few hours, Wyatt would have admitted defeat and Quinn would be packed and ready to return to Los Angeles. Of course, Kendra would not be happy to arrive here and not find Quinn, but Quinn would thank Kendra in her Oscar acceptance speech.

      Quinn smiled again, then lifted her wineglass to her imagined enraptured audience. No, she would first thank Wyatt in her Oscar speech. He could fume while he changed all those babies’ diapers he was so looking forward to changing.

      “Celebrating something?” came a dry voice.

      Quinn screeched in fear at the sight of Wyatt standing in the yard. She screamed again when she realized that she had spilled wine all over her jeans. She jumped to her feet and swiped at her jeans with the towel she had been using as a napkin.

      “Damn it, Wyatt. You scared me,” she snapped, annoyed.

      She glared at him and was surprised by the sudden shiver that raced through her body. He was gorgeous. All brown skin and denim-clad legs and eyelashes. It was ridiculous to think of a man as simply legs and eyelashes, but she did. And he even wore a tan cowboy hat. And he didn’t look ridiculous in the least.

      “Where are the fishnets?” he demanded, walking up the porch stairs to tower over her.

      Quinn ignored him and quickly walked into the house to the kitchen. He followed her.

      “These jeans cost one hundred and fifty dollars,” she growled as she wet the towel and began to blot the stains. “Not to mention I spilled wine all over my lunch.”

      “One pair of jeans and a burger and fries for my future with Dorrie. It’s a good start,” he said flatly.

      “What are you talking about?”

      “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Your little act in the diner,” he said angrily. “I have to admit, it was a brilliant performance, Quinn.”

      She threw the towel in the sink disgustedly, giving up on her jeans and then glared at him. He was much closer than she had realized. And there was that scent again. The Wyatt scent. Her nerves tingled.

      “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she managed.

      He laughed in disbelief and sat at the table to lean back and study her. She refused to believe that she was nervous in the least. But she sure felt something akin to nervous. Very nervous.

      “I know you think that all Sibleyville natives are hicks, and maybe you’re right. We are. But this hick knew exactly what you were doing when