The Princess And The Cowboy. Martha Shields

her head. She couldn’t suppress a moan of relief when the pressure of the tight band holding it in place was gone.

      Strands of hair escaped her once-perfect chignon, but she couldn’t make any repairs at the moment other than pushing them off her face. Then, casting an uneasy glance at Buck, she reached inside the sequined weskit and began pulling tissues from the bodice.

      When he saw what she was doing, Buck smiled, then chuckled. The next time he glanced over, he started laughing out loud. The more tissues she took out, the harder he laughed.

      When she was finally finished, she glared at him.

      He looked at her, and kept laughing.

      A smile tugged at Josie’s lips, and when she glanced down at the mountain of tissues on her lap, she let her lips curve.

      “Is there anything left of you in there?” he asked, wiping at tears of mirth.

      Josie held the weskit against her bust. “Not all that much, I’m afraid. I guess it was false advertising, but I needed a disguise. If you want to back out of the deal, I’ll understand.”

      “No, I definitely want in.”

      His voice had such a husky quality, she glanced at him. The hot looks he was sending her between glances at the highway surprised her. She’d caught looks of unbridled lust on men before, but never directed at her. No man had been so lacking in manners as to openly desire Princess Joséphene of Montclaire. It just wasn’t done.

      Until now.

      A wave of heat washed through her, but not from embarrassment. For the first time in her life, she felt like a woman—a sexy woman. She’d had no idea that being the object of a man’s desire would feel so wonderful, so liberating, so wanton.

      “You—” She had to clear her throat before she could speak properly. “You still want to get married?”

      His gaze rested on hers, then shifted back to the highway. “Do you?”

      “I…” She turned her own gaze to the line of headlights coming at them. “As I said, I have some very specific conditions.”

      “Such as?”

      “Well—please don’t take this personally—I only need a husband for a few months. But at least you won’t be stuck with me for long.”

      Buck glanced at her sharply. “A few months? Why?”

      “I…I’d rather not go into the specifics. Suffice it to say that I need to prevent my…father from marrying me to someone else.”

      Buck was amazed at how her situation was like his own. “How many months are we talking about?”

      She shrugged. “I don’t know exactly. At least two. Perhaps as many as six or seven. It depends on how long it takes me to—”

      She cut herself off so quickly, he had to probe. “To what?”

      “To…make other arrangements.”

      “What other arrangements?”

      “Does it matter?”

      “If I’m going to be involved in this, yes, it does.”

      She cleared her throat. “All right, then. I have to find a husband. A real husband, I mean. One who…meets certain qualifications.”

      “Which I lack.”

      “Please don’t take this personally.”

      Buck frowned when he realized that he wasn’t particularly insulted. What he didn’t like was the thought of Josie marrying someone else. He didn’t like it one bit. He felt almost…possessive, which didn’t make any sense. He’d only known her a few hours.

      Then a possibility he liked even less occurred to him. “So you’re wanting a marriage in name only.”

      “No,” she said quickly. “I…it needs to be consummated. That is, if you don’t mind.”

      Mind? Hell, if no sex had been one of her conditions, he’d have put her out at the next town. She’d had him so aroused from the instant he laid eyes on her, he was having trouble convincing himself not to pull the truck off at the next exit and down the first dark road so he could have her right now. He’d never be able to keep his hands off her for a couple of months.

      “No.” He shifted in the seat. “I don’t mind.”

      She sighed, as if she’d been worried about it. “Good.”

      “Any more conditions?” he asked.

      “Just one.”

      “And that would be?”

      “We need to have a prenuptial agreement. Not that I don’t trust you, but—”

      “You don’t know me.”

      “Exactly. You don’t mind?”

      “A prenuptial saying that what’s mine is mine and what’s yours is yours, and we don’t get a nickel of each other’s money or assets, such as they are.” He smiled. “Sweetheart, the only assets I can see that you have are what God gave you.”

      “I have enough to pay you five thousand dollars for your help.” She sounded a bit offended.

      Buck chuckled. Five thousand dollars. He’d been prepared to offer her fifty times that to marry him for a few months. Should he tell her? No. Let her think he was doing her a favor. However… “I’m not taking a dime of your money, Josie. So put that thought right out of your pretty head.”

      “But—”

      “I don’t need it. I don’t want it. I’m not taking it.”

      “If you’re certain…”

      “Absolutely. Any more conditions?”

      “No.” She sighed. “I guess that’s that, then, isn’t it?”

      “I guess so.”

      “We’re getting married?”

      “I’m game if you are.”

      “Didn’t you have some conditions?”

      “Not anymore, sweetheart.”

      The purr of the engine as the car ran the dark highway was the only sound for several seconds. Then Josie said, “I like it when you call me that.”

      “Sweetheart?”

      “Yes.”

      Her soft confession touched him. He reached across the cab to capture her hand. “No one’s ever called you sweetheart before?”

      “No.”

      “Good.” He laced his fingers through hers. “C’mon over here.”

      He dragged her across the bench seat, against his side.

      He was on the way to Reno to marry a beautiful, sexy trailer-park princess. He couldn’t wait to see his mother’s face when he walked into his house tomorrow.

      Yep. The next few months were going to be very interesting.

      He felt as if his whole body was smiling.

      “I now pronounce you man and wife.”

      Josie froze, staring at the bald justice of the peace through the filmy veil, the only part of the bridal costume she wore.

      Wife.

      Mon Dieu. What have I done?

      She’d married a total stranger for the sake of Montclaire. A man she’d known only a few hours.

      With the help of a penlight from his glove compartment, she’d scribbled a brief prenuptial, which they’d both signed, with the justice of the peace and his wife as witnesses. But a prenuptial