Wyoming Winter. Diana Palmer

think J.C. had dropped her because she wasn’t pretty enough for him.

      He hesitated when he was inside his SUV, watching snow pile up on the windshield before he cranked the engine and turned on the windshield wipers. It was a chance to draw back, to let her think he didn’t care. It was an opportunity that might not come again. He could ignore her. He could let her believe he was seeing other women.

      But it was a lie. There was only Colie in his life. There had never been a woman he could talk to, pour his heart out to. Not before Colie came along. Brief liaisons didn’t encourage closeness. He took what was offered and moved on to the next woman. But Colie wouldn’t be as disposable as the women who came and went in his life. She’d want commitment. He wasn’t sure he could give her that, even briefly.

      On the other hand, he hadn’t looked at another woman since he’d been going around with Colie. He couldn’t imagine one of his brassy dates taking her place. She was gentle and kind and giving. She roused him like no one else ever had.

      He should stop it now, while he could. He’d be cheating her if he let things progress. Inevitably, he was going to end up in bed with her. Once that happened, he might not be able to let go. That frightened him. His poor mother had been trapped by her feelings, tied to a man who abused her, hurt her. He’d seen the dark side of love. He’d watched his mother die of it. Love was an illusion that led to tragedy. He wanted no part of it.

      If he could take her and enjoy her without his emotions becoming involved, perhaps they could stay together for a while. It would cause friction with her father, but Colie was a grown woman. She didn’t answer to anyone. He could enjoy what they had while it lasted and then move on, as he always did. He’d make sure Colie knew it wasn’t forever that he was offering.

      It didn’t occur to him then that he was eaten alive with jealousy when he thought of his Colie with another man, or that someone who wasn’t emotionally involved wouldn’t be jealous in the first place.

      * * *

      COLIE WAS HAVING a quick meal at the local café when a tall, irritated man pulled out a chair and sat down beside her.

      She caught her breath audibly.

      “What’s this about an accountant?” J.C. asked with a bite in his voice. His pale eyes were glittering like metal in sunlight.

      She gaped at him with her coffee halfway to her mouth. She put it down and glared at him. “Oh, yeah? What’s this about a glittery, beautiful blonde woman in Denver?” she countered right back.

      He waited while a waitress took his order for a hamburger and fries and coffee. Then the laughter seeped out, drowning the anger.

      “Jennifer Hunter,” he told her. “She’s married to Phillip Hunter, who’s head of security for Ritter Oil Corporation in Houston. He teaches with me in Iraq, although in different areas,” he said, watching her cheeks flush. “They have two kids.”

      The flush got worse. She averted her eyes to her plate.

      “The accountant?” he prompted.

      She moved one shoulder restlessly. “He’s trying to impress a woman he works with. He just wanted company for a movie. He was very nice. Daddy liked him.”

      He nodded. His big hand slid over Colie’s free one and linked into it. “I was jealous,” he said, surprising himself, because he didn’t want to admit that. It was like showing weakness.

      “I was jealous, too, when I heard about the blonde,” she confessed.

      “Two idiots with insecurity issues,” he murmured drily.

      She looked up into his eyes and the whole planet shifted ten degrees. Her heart ran away with her.

      “I missed you,” he whispered huskily, his own heart racing as much as he tried to hide it.

      “I missed you, too.”

      Around them, curious and amused faces were trying not to stare. Colie was loved by the community for her good works. J.C. was an object of curiosity, not really a local but accepted as one. The curiosity was benevolent, at least.

      * * *

      THEY FINISHED THE MEAL. J.C. caught up both tickets and paid them, then he led Colie out the door and over to his SUV.

      “But I have to get back to work,” she protested weakly when he drove out of town. “It’s so close that I walked down to the café...”

      “How much longer is your lunch hour?”

      “Ten minutes,” she said, staring at him.

      “So, we’ll have dessert and go back.”

      “Dessert?”

      He pulled into a deserted parking lot next to the river that ran through Catelow, cut the engine and reached for Colie as if he was starving to death.

      “Dessert,” he whispered huskily as his mouth covered hers and burrowed hungrily into it.

      Colie linked her arms around his neck and held on for dear life, making up with enthusiasm for what she lacked in experience.

      J.C. wrapped her up tight and kissed her until her mouth felt bruised.

      “I hate being away from you,” he said against her swollen lips.

      “I hate it, too,” she managed, burying her face in his warm throat, in the opening of his shepherd’s coat. She hit his chest. “You didn’t even call me!”

      “What could I have said? I’m lonely, I miss you, I wish you were here? What good would that have done?” he asked against her ear.

      “A lot,” she said. “For one thing, I wouldn’t have believed local gossip about the blonde!”

      He chuckled. “I haven’t looked at another woman since you’ve been haunting me,” he told her. “You’re everywhere I go, all the time. Even when I’m away.”

      Her arms tightened.

      “I don’t guess you could plead a sick headache and go home with me right now?” he asked in a tone that was joking, but also serious.

      “I’d love to,” she said. “But there’s only me and Lucy and the office is full of people today.”

      “You and your sense of responsibility,” he scoffed.

      “You and yours,” she shot back.

      He lifted his head. His eyes were soft and tender as they searched her face. “I don’t like talking on the phone,” he said. “It’s a long-standing prejudice.”

      “Rod said you were a policeman in Billings before you went into the service,” she said.

      He nodded. “Maybe that’s why I don’t like phones,” he said. “There was usually tragedy on the other end of the line.”

      She smoothed over the hard line of his cheek with her fingers. “You’re still doing it.”

      He caught the hand and kissed the palm. “Doing what?”

      “Taking care of people,” she said simply. “Except that now you’re taking care of people on a ranch instead of people in a city.”

      He smiled. “I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

      She smiled back. “I have to go.”

      “I know.”

      He kissed her again, but differently than he ever had. His lips barely touched hers, brushing, lifting...cherishing. When he lifted his head, there was a light in his eyes that she didn’t remember seeing.

      “Dinner tonight?” he asked when he let her out in front of the office.

      “What time?”

      “Six. That will give you time to fix something for Rod and your dad.”

      “Okay.