His Marriage Pact. Kathie DeNosky

him a speech on the death of chauvinism if he didn’t look so gorgeous displaying that grin and a delightful dimple. “Far be it from me to question archaic tradition.”

      He leaned over and folded his arms on the window’s ledge. “Are you going to follow me home, or do you want to ride with me and I’ll bring you back later to get your car?”

      Although he seemed harmless enough, Paris wasn’t stupid. If she didn’t have her vehicle, she couldn’t determine when it was time to go. “I know the way now. I’ll drive.”

      He pushed away from the car and straightened. “Fine by me. See you in a bit.”

      In less time than it took Paris to fasten her seat belt, Dallas shot out of the lot on spinning tires, kicking up a flurry of dust in his wake as he turned onto the access road. She took a little more time following suit, still questioning the reason behind his surprise invitation.

      Yet life wasn’t without risk, and she’d taken plenty in her formative years. Some had turned out well, others, not so much. She hoped this risk proved to be a good one.

      After traveling ten or so miles, she found Dallas had pulled over on the shoulder to wait for her. He seemed to slow down to accommodate her caution, and remained that way until they turned off the interstate and onto the rural road leading to the ranch.

      Once they traveled through the elaborate stone entry containing the iron sign announcing their arrival at the D Bar C, Dallas drove past the office where the barren terrain took a dramatic turn. Paris glanced from the road long enough to ogle the massive white rock ranch house to her left as Dallas continued on. They passed by several other large houses set back off the road, each one appearing to include transplanted trees, lovely landscaping, first-rate barns and expensive vehicles, including one black Porsche that she would wager belonged to Worth. After Dallas took a left, pavement soon turned to gravel as they navigated through pastureland lined with barbwire fence and dotted with mesquite.

      They soon passed a large pond lined with weeping willows where a two-story, expansive home came into view, dealing Paris another stunning mental blow. The structure was also stone trimmed with cedar accents, like the rest of the residences, only this one had a gleaming silver metal roof and seemed to be twice the size, as well as a tad more elaborate. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought she’d happened upon a resort hotel.

      Dallas pulled beneath the portico and Paris followed his lead, half expecting to be greeted by a parking attendant. When that didn’t happen, she slid out of the car and joined her host for the evening at the entry. “Nice place you have here,” she said as he opened one of the heavy pine double doors.

      “It’ll do,” he replied with surprising nonchalance.

      It would more than do, she realized after she stepped over the threshold. A grand staircase with a wrought iron banister centered in the soaring foyer, and dark slate floors could be deemed somewhat elegant. Yet that was where the elegance ended, right before the West began.

      As Paris trailed behind Dallas into the great room, the cowboy culture came shining through in the floor-to-ceiling rock fireplace anchoring the room along with the macho leather furniture in shades of gray and black. And hanging from the towering ceiling, a chandelier, for lack of a better term, appeared to be made out of metallic animal horns, although she would swear they weren’t authentic. At least she hoped not.

      “Welcome to Dallas’s little piece of heaven, Paris,” Jenny said as she floated into the room wearing a frilly pink apron and a vibrant smile.

      Odd that Dallas didn’t have household staff and had to rely on his stepmother to play hostess. “Thanks for having me, and I have to agree. This place is paradise.”

      Jenny’s grin deepened. “You should see the veranda overlooking the pool, which is where you two will dine so you can watch the sunset. The view is breathtaking.”

      Dallas frowned. “I’m thinking the dining room might be better since it’s still fairly hot outside and the mosquitoes are big as airplanes.”

      Jenny waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Oh, posh, Dallas. You don’t have a romantic bone in your body. Besides, the temperature will go down with the sun and it’s too early in the year for a lot of bugs, including mosquitoes.”

      A sunset dinner was conducive to romance, but Paris was not in the market for wining and dining or mosquitoes. “The dining room will be fine.” When Jenny looked absolutely disappointed, she added, “Or the veranda. I’m sure the sunset is very impressive.”

      “The veranda it is,” Jenny said as she started to back away. “Dinner will be ready very soon and I assure you, Paris, I’m preparing a delectable vegetarian meal. In the meantime, Dallas can give you the VIP tour. His master suite is to die for.”

      She questioned the wisdom in viewing Dallas’s bedroom. “I’m looking forward to it. The tour, I mean.”

      Jenny smiled before she hurried away, leaving Dallas and Paris standing in the middle of the great room cloaked in uncomfortable silence.

      “Are you ready for the tour?” he asked.

      As long as he didn’t get too close to her in the boudoir; otherwise she might forget herself in the shadow of that smile. “I’m more than a little curious, so lead the way.”

      “Okay. Follow me.”

      And she did, up the stairs, trying desperately to avoid studying his butt before they took an immediate right at the top landing. They walked by several closed doors before reaching the end of the corridor where Dallas paused at a pair of double doors.

      “Prepare yourself,” he said. “You’re about to see where all the action happens.”

      Holding her breath, Paris expected to discover a large bed, but she only saw what appeared to be a cowboy man cave with an at least seventy-inch television screen, a large old-fashioned bar straight out of a saloon and a series of round wooden tables and straight-backed chairs. She strolled toward a large glass display case to her right that housed trophies and belt buckles and trinkets from days past. “Is this the Dallas Calloway Hall of Fame?”

      “Not exactly,” he said from behind her. “If I had my way, those things would’ve stayed in the trunk in the tack room.”

      She glanced at him over one shoulder. “You should be proud of these. Not many men can lay claim to being a three-time world champion all-around cowboy.”

      “Funny, that’s what Maria said.” He came to her side, showing his handsome profile to full advantage. “She set this up after I built the house.”

      Time to get to know him a bit better. “You two are close, huh?”

      He streaked a palm over his neck. “Yeah. She’s the only mother I’ve ever really known. Then Jen came into the mix and now I have two mothers. Double trouble. They mean well but sometimes they’re both a little too motherly.”

      “Right down to choosing your mate?”

      He shot her a smile, throwing her for a mental loop. “They try but I don’t listen to them when it comes to my choice in female companionship.”

      That led Paris to a question she’d been dying to ask, perhaps at her own detriment if she dared. “You really don’t have a girlfriend waiting somewhere in the wings?”

      He turned those silver-blue eyes on her. “Nope. I’ve had a couple of steady girlfriends in the past, but rodeo and relationships didn’t mix well.”

      “Apparently you no longer rodeo, so do you see yourself eventually settling down?”

      He sent her an odd look before he brought his attention back to the mementos from his past. “Only if and when the time is right.”

      “I’m sure you’re considered quite the catch in these parts. Probably throughout the state.”

      He turned and leaned a shoulder against the case. “I’ve had my share