His Virgin Wife: The Wedding in White / Caught in the Crossfire / The Virgin's Secret Marriage

His arm contracted roughly, pinning her to him. “I have to,” he said impatiently. “You have no idea what it would be like if I didn’t.”

“I’m twenty-two,” she reminded him. “Almost twenty-three. No woman reaches that age today, even in a small town, without knowing something about relationships.”

“I’m talking about physical relationships. They aren’t something you have and walk away from. They’re addictive.” He drew in a harsh breath as the music began to wind down. “They’re dangerous. A little light lovemaking is one thing. What I’d do to you in a bed is something else entirely.”

The tone, as much as the content, made her uneasy. She stared at him, frowning. “I don’t understand.”

He groaned. “I know. That’s what’s killing me!”

“You’re not being rational,” she murmured.

The hand at her waist contracted and moved her in a rough, quick motion against the rock-solid thrust of his body. He watched her blush with malicious pleasure. “How rational does that feel to you?” he asked outrageously.

She forced her eyes to his drawn face. “It isn’t rational at all. But you keep trying to save me from anything deep and intimate. It has to happen someday,” she said.

His jaw tautened even more. “Maybe it does. But I told you, I’m not a marrying man. That being the case, I’d have to be out of my mind before I’d take you to bed, Natalie.”

“Dave wouldn’t,” she taunted. “In fact, Whit wouldn’t,” she added, glancing at Vivian’s partner, who was watching her as much as he was watching his partner.

His hand tightened on her waist until it hurt. “Don’t start anything with him,” he said coldly. “Vivian would never forgive you. Neither would I.”

“I was just kidding.”

“I’m not laughing,” he told her, and his face was solemn.

“You treat me like a child half the time,” she accused, on fire with new needs. She felt reckless, out of control. His body, pressed so close to hers, was making her ache. “And then you accuse me of tempting you, when you’re the one with the experience.”

He let her go abruptly and moved back. “You aren’t old enough for me,” he said flatly.

“I’m six years younger than you are, not twenty,” she pointed out.

His eye narrowed, glittering at her. “What do you want from me?”

In his customary blunt way, he’d thrown the ball into her court and stood there arrogantly waiting for an answer she couldn’t give.

“I want you to be my friend,” she said finally, compromising with her secret desires.

“I am.”

“Then where’s the problem?”

“You just felt it.”

“Mack!”

He caught her hand and tugged her toward their table. “What’s that song—one step forward and two steps back? That’s how I feel lately.”

She felt churned up, frustrated, hot with desire and furious that he was playing some sort of game with her hormones. She knew she was flushed and she couldn’t quite meet Vivian’s eyes when they went to the table.

“Don’t sit down,” Whit drawled, catching Natalie by the wrist before she could be seated. “This one’s mine.”

He drew her on the dance floor to the chagrin of brother and sister and wrapped her tight as the slow dance began.

“If you want to keep that arm, loosen it,” Natalie told Whit with barely contained rage.

He did, at once, and grinned at her. “Sorry. That’s the way big brother was holding you, though. But, then, he’s almost family, isn’t he? Vivian says the two of you went through high school together.”

“Yes, we did. We’ve been friends for a long time.”

“She’s jealous of you,” he said.

“That’s a hoot,” she replied, laughing. “She’s a beauty queen and I’m plain.”

“That isn’t what I mean,” he corrected. “She envies you your kind heart and intelligence. She has neither.”

“That’s a strange way to talk about a girl you care for,” she chided.

“I like Vivian a lot,” he said. “But she’s like so many others, self-centered and spoiled, waiting for life to serve up whatever she wants. I’ll bet there hasn’t been a man in years who’s said no to her.”

“I don’t think anyone’s ever said no to her,” she replied with a smile. “She’s pretty and sweet, whatever else she is.”

He shrugged. “Pretty and rich. I guess that’s enough for most men. When do you start teaching?”

“In the fall, if I passed my exams. If I don’t graduate, it will be another year before I can get a teaching job around here.”

“You could go farther afield,” he told her. “I was surfing the Internet the other night, browsing for teachers’ jobs. There are lots of openings in north Texas, especially in Dallas. I always thought I’d like to live in Texas.”

“I don’t really want to live that far from home,” she said.

“But you don’t have a home, really, do you?” he asked. “Vivian said you were orphaned when you were very young.”

“My mother was born here,” she said. “So was her mother, and her mother’s mother. I have roots.”

“They can be a trap as much as a safety cushion,” he cautioned. “Do you really want to spend the rest of your life out here in the middle of nowhere?”

“That’s an odd question for someone who came here from Los Angeles,” she pointed out.

He averted his gaze. “Nevada, actually,” he said. “I got tired of the rat race. I wanted someplace quiet. But it’s just a little too quiet here. A year of it is more than I expected to do.”

“Do you like teaching?”

He made a face. “Not really. I wanted to do great things. I had all these dreams about building exotic houses and making barrels of money, but I couldn’t get into architecture. They said I had no talent for it.”

“That’s a shame.”

“So I teach,” he added with a cold smile. “English, of all things.”

“Viv says you’re very good at it.”