High Plains Wife. Jillian Hart

them.”

      “But you’ve had the good life, and because of it I’ll bet you’ve acquired certain expectations, certain attitudes and behaviors. Like playing rugby instead of football. Or choosing escargot over onion rings.”

      He smiled faintly, as if bored by her conjecture. “Now how do you know I like rugby?”

      Sunny ignored his attempt to change the subject. “I don’t. But for the life of me, I can’t imagine why you’d want to give it up and walk away from such an existence.”

      Hazel set Sunny’s cappuccino in front of her with a thunk, slopping it over the rim before she walked away. Brett pulled a napkin from the dispenser and automatically handed it to her.

      Sunny reached for it, and when their fingers met, a spark of electricity went pinging up her wrist. The fine hairs on the back of her arm stood up.

      Brett stared at her pensively, as if the touch that passed between them, and over a cheap paper napkin, had been enough to ignite and burn. An undercurrent of awareness sizzled.

      Sunny’s fingers, still smoldering, fumbled to dab at the spill. “Thank you. I— I don’t want to get it on my skirt.” She paused while the waitress put down the teapot, cup and sliced lemons, then left again. “And Brett? I wasn’t trying to pry. Or even be critical. It’s just…” She pushed the soiled napkin aside. “My parents were on the move a lot, and I haven’t known very many people who have your kind of family history. Or that kind of security. It makes me wonder if you know what you’re giving up.”

      Brett silently poured a cup of tea, then squeezed a bit of lemon into it. He wiped his fingertips, then crumpled the napkin, as she had done. “You’ll have a few weeks to get an inside look at my life, with and without my title.” Picking up a sugar packet, he ripped it open. He tapped a few grains into the tea, then stirred. “After my parents go home, you can give me your opinion. Should I barter myself away to a woman I don’t love, in order to secure a place in society and a hefty inheritance? Should I make love to a woman I don’t care about in order to secure an heir?”

      Sunny shifted uncomfortably. The one thing her parents had taught her was unconditional love. Everyone needed it, deserved it.

      Yet the life he alluded to seemed hollow, plastic, even devoid of emotion.

      “Because,” Brett continued, putting the spoon aside and lifting his cup from the saucer, “after you’ve given a convincing performance for my parents, it can all be undone. I can grow weary of you and break our ‘engagement.’”

      Uncertainty skittered up Sunny’s spine. But she refused to give in to the ominous suggestion—the same way she refused to fall victim to Brett’s piercing blue gaze. In some odd way she knew he was issuing her an ultimatum, and she felt she had to stand up to it.

      “Fine. The day your parents go home and I move out of your apartment, I’ll tell you exactly what I think you’re giving up. And I won’t mince words.”

      Brett lifted his cup in a mock toast. “I’m looking forward to it.” He took a sip, then gazed at her steadily over the rim.

      Unable to tear her eyes away, Sunny took a long, scalding draft of her cappuccino.

      “Take it easy, luv. You’re going to get burned,” Brett warned.

      “I’ve already been burned. I mean I— I did that purposely, to clear my head,” she stated.

      “And singe your tongue,” he said wryly.

      They both, implicitly, understood the double meaning.

      She set the cappuccino aside. “Brett? Are you sure you want to go through with this? With me? Because if you’ve had second thoughts, and want to change your mind or find somebody else—”

      “No second thoughts.”

      “If this blows up or backfires, or your parents figure it out, I don’t want to be held accountable.”

      “Sunny, I think you’re being a jolly good sport about the whole thing. If it doesn’t play out like we planned, I won’t be any worse off than I am now.” He chuckled. “Of course, we’re going to have to think about how to manage this at the office. I’ll admit I mentioned it to Carmella and Emily. But Emily’s a good friend of mine, so she won’t say anything if we don’t want her to. Carmella won’t, either. I think we should keep up the status quo—a working relationship. That way there’d be no explanations.”

      Sunny laced her fingers around the cup of cappuccino. “I don’t know you and you don’t know me, right?”

      “That’s it. Nodding acquaintances,” he confirmed.

      “Hey, I’ll just look the other direction when I see you coming,” she volunteered, her insides twisting with what felt too much like rejection. Apparently she was good enough to be his fiancée, but not his friend. “If we meet in the hall, or share the same elevator or anything. I mean, we’ve never really talked before, so—”

      “But there’s the rub, Sunny,” Brett admitted, his thumb stroking the rim of his teacup. “We really don’t know anything about each other, and we should. Especially if we’re going to convince my parents. Otherwise we’ll make mistakes. Tomorrow’s Friday,” he murmured thoughtfully. “You could move in tomorrow night and we’d have the whole weekend—and all of next week—to get to know each other. What do you say?”

      “Tomorrow night? I thought you were joking about that.” Surprised, Sunny drew back. She hadn’t imagined he’d want her around until the last minute. The upside of his offer was that it included seven more nights away from her parents and the way their eccentricities were taking over her apartment. “If you have plans for the weekend, or dates next week, I’d be in the way. You’d have to explain me away.”

      He offered up a toothy, irresistible smile. “Not a problem.”

      “You won’t say I’m your American cousin, will you?”

      “No, there won’t be any explaining. My calendar’s clear.”

      Sunny debated. Even one less night of tofu and beans was appealing. “Um, if I moved in early, that would have to include dinner, too,” she bargained.

      He lifted a shoulder as if the matter was inconsequential. “I know a great restaurant where we can celebrate our first night together. I can make reservations there, or we can hang out at my place and throw steaks on the grill.”

      “So you do eat red meat.”

      He gazed at her, clearly puzzled. “Is that an asset?”

      “Definitely,” Sunny confirmed. “I’m not a vegetarian and I don’t intend to be. I’ll pack tonight. Because it looks like we have something in common, after all.”

      Brett stood next to his car in the parking lot of the coffee shop. “What?” he asked. “You didn’t leave your car in the lot and walk over, did you?”

      “Oh, no, I always take the bus to work.”

      “Really?” He appeared surprised by the information. “Well, get in then. There’s no sense in you taking the bus home.”

      Sunny took an involuntary step back and waved him off. “No, thanks. You probably have other things to do and—”

      “Nothing but go back to the same apartment complex you’re going to.” Brett walked around the late model sports car and opened the door for her.

      She hesitated. This was all happening too quickly. Tomorrow she was moving in with the office heartthrob. She’d just shared coffee—and tea—with him. And they’d actually touched—an unexpected contact that had left Sunny breathless, and quivery inside. The kind that put a great big question mark where her brains ought to be.

      The thought of sitting beside him in the confines of that sporty little coupe, which was as blue as his eyes, made her go weak.