Unlikely Lover. Diana Palmer

      “Years too young for a renegade like you.”

      “I could be tempted,” he murmured thoughtfully.

      “I couldn’t. You’d seduce me and leave me pregnant, and Aunt Lillian would quit, and I’d have to go away and invent a husband I didn’t have, and our child would grow up never knowing his father…” she burst out.

      His eyes widened. He actually chuckled. “My God, what an imagination.”

      “I told you I wanted to be a writer,” she reminded him. “And now, since you’re not dying, would you mind leaving me to pack? I think I can be out of here in ten minutes.”

      “She’ll be heartbroken,” he said unexpectedly.

      “That’s not my problem.”

      “She’s your aunt. Of course it’s your problem,” he returned. “You can’t possibly leave now. She’d—”

      “Oh!”

      The cry came from downstairs. They looked at each other and both dived for the door, opening it just in time to find Lillian on her back on the bottom step, groaning, one leg in an unnatural position.

      Mari rushed down the stairs just behind Ward. “Oh, Aunt Lillian!” she wailed, staring at the strained old face with its pasty complexion. “How could you do this to me?”

      “To you?” Lillian bit off, groaning again. “Child, it’s my leg!”

      “I was going to leave—” Mari began.

      “Leave the dishes for you, no doubt.” Ward jumped in with a warning glance in Mari’s direction. “Isn’t that right, Miss Raymond?” Fate was working for him as usual, he mused. Now he’d have a little time to find out just why this woman disturbed him so much. And to get her well out of his system, one way or another, before she left. He had to prove to himself that Mari wasn’t capable of doing to him what Caroline had done. It was a matter of male pride.

      Mari swallowed, wondering whether to go along with Ward. He did look pretty threatening. And huge. “Uh, that’s right. The dishes. But I can do them!” she added brightly.

      “It looks like…you may be doing them…for quite a while, if you…don’t mind,” Lillian panted between groans while Wade rushed to the telephone and dialed the emergency service number.

      “You poor darling.” Mari sighed, holding Lillian’s wrinkled hand. “What happened?”

      “I missed Ward and wondered if he might be…if you might be…” She cleared her throat and stared at Mari through layers of pain. “You didn’t say anything to him?” she asked quickly. “About his…condition?”

      Mari bit her tongue. Forgive me for lying, Lord, she thought. She crossed her fingers behind her. “Of course not,” she assured her aunt with a blank smile. “He was just telling me about the ranch.”

      “Thank God.” Lillian sank back. “My leg’s broken, you know,” she bit off. She glanced up as Ward rejoined them, scowling down at her. She forced a pitiful smile. “Well, boss, I guess you’ll have to send for your grandmother,” she said slyly.

      He glared at her. “Like hell! I just got her off the place! Anyway, why should I?” he continued, bending to hold her other hand. “Your niece won’t mind a little cooking, will she?” he added with a pointed glance at Mari.

      Mari shifted restlessly. “Well, actually—”

      “Of course she won’t.” Lillian grinned and then grimaced. “Will you, darling? You need to…recuperate.” She chose her words carefully. “From your bad experience,” she added, jerking her head toward Ward, her eyes pleading with her niece. “You know, at the shopping center?”

      “Oh. That bad experience.” Mari nodded, glancing at Ward and touching her lower lip where it was slightly swollen.

      A corner of his mouth curved up and his eyes twinkled. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?” he murmured.

      “It was terrible!” Lillian broke in.

      “You said it,” Mari agreed blithely, her blue eyes accusing. “Besides, I thought you couldn’t wait to push me out the door.”

      “You want her to leave?” Lillian wailed.

      “No, I don’t want her to leave,” Ward said with suffering patience. He lifted his chin and stared down his straight nose at Mari, then smiled. “I’ve got plans for her,” he added in a tone that was a threat in itself.

      That was what bothered Mari. Now she was trapped by Lillian’s lies and Ward’s allegiance to his housekeeper. She wondered what on earth she was going to do, caught between the two of them, and she wondered why Ward Jessup wanted her to stay. He hated women most of the time, from what Lillian had divulged about him. He wasn’t a marrying man, and he was a notorious womanizer. Surely he wouldn’t try to seduce her. Would he?

      She stared at him over Lillian’s supine form with troubled eyes. He had an unscrupulous reputation. She wasn’t so innocent that she hadn’t recognized that evident hunger in his hard mouth just before she’d started fighting him.

      But his green eyes mocked her, dared her, challenged her. She’d stay, he told himself. He’d coax her into it. Then he could find some way to make her show her true colors. He was betting there was a little of Caroline’s makeup in her, too. She was just another female despite her innocence. She was a woman, and all women were unscrupulous and calculating. If he could make her drop the disguise, if he could prove she was just like all the other she-cats, he could rid himself of his unexpected lust. Lust, of course, was all it was. He forgave Lillian for her fall. It was going to work right in with his plans. Yes, it was.

       Chapter Four

      Lillian was comfortably settled in a room in the small Ravine hospital. The doctor had ordered a series of tests—not because of her broken leg but because of her blood pressure reading taken in the emergency room.

      “Will she be all right, do you think?” Mari asked Ward as they waited for the doctor to speak to them. For most of the evening they’d been sitting in this waiting room. Ward paced and drank black coffee while Mari just stared into space worriedly. Lillian was her last living relative. Without the older woman she’d be all alone.

      “She’s tough,” Ward said noncommittally. He glared at his watch. “My God, I hate waiting! I almost wish I smoked so that I’d have something to help kill the time.”

      “You don’t smoke?” Mari said with surprise.

      “Never could stand the things,” he muttered. “Clogging up my lungs with smoke never seemed sensible.”

      Her eyebrows lifted. “But you drink.”

      “Not to excess,” he returned, glancing down at her. “I like whiskey and water once in a blue moon, and I’ll take a drink of white wine. But I won’t do it and drive.” He grinned. “All those commercials got to me. Those crashing beer glasses stick in my mind.”

      She smiled back a little shyly. “I don’t drink at all.”

      “I guess not, tenderfoot,” he murmured. “You aren’t old enough to need to.”

      “My dad used to say that it isn’t the age, it’s the mileage.”

      His eyebrows arched. “How much mileage do you have, lady?” he taunted. “You look and feel pretty green to me.”

      Her face colored furiously, and she hated that knowing look on his dark face. “Listen here, Mr. Jessup—”

      “Mr. Jessup.” His name was echoed by a young resident physician, who came walking up in a white coat holding a clipboard. He shook hands with Ward and nodded as he was introduced tersely to Mari.

      “She’ll