Her Forbidden Bridegroom

“…a pig.”

Stifling a surprised laugh, Lorna came right back with, “If you have any evidence to disprove that, you’d better speak up quick.”

Again he seemed to hesitate, but then he spoke, the words coming out as tonelessly as if he were reading them off a cue card.

“My apologies, Miz Farrell. Would you please consider inviting me inside to discuss a new problem?”

Lorna felt her anger cool, but she was wary of letting him in. “You’ll behave?”

“I surely will.” His swift answer was proof that he could barely contain his impatience to have the discussion.

The notion that this big bull of a man was knuckling under to her demand for good manners—even if it was difficult for him—made her feel a small bit of power.

Though common sense told her this was only an illusion of cooperation, the secret part of her that had never truly felt valuable or particularly powerful gobbled it up.

“All right. We’ll see how things go. But I should warn you that I’ve got a black belt in screaming down apartment buildings.”

It was meant to lighten things between them, but neither of them smiled. She’d already got the impression that Mitch didn’t smile often.

But perhaps the biggest reason neither of them smiled was because they both recognized that her lighthearted remark was an expression of fear and mistrust. Fear and mistrust leached the humor out of most things, at least in her life.

Lorna turned back to the door to unlock it, and Mitch followed her in. They walked up the stairs then down the hall to her apartment in silence. As she’d done downstairs, she held the door open for him as he carried her bags in. He took her purchases to the kitchen while she carried her dry cleaning and handbag to her bedroom to put away. By the time she joined Mitch in the kitchen, he was unloading groceries onto the counter.

Her, “Thank you,” were the only words between them until she’d put everything away and disposed of the empty bags. She left the things from Wal-Mart for later, then turned to him and clasped her hands together. She glanced up at his Stetson, so he obliged her silent reminder and took it off.

“Would I again be wasting good manners if I asked what you’d like to drink? The choices are still a soda or coffee. Or a glass of water.”

Mitch couldn’t seem to keep his gaze from eating her up. Lorna’s delectably curved body was virtually perfect. The white cotton blouse she wore over her most interesting curves was still crisp despite the heat, and her jeans carried a crease that let him know she ironed them. As a man who was too macho to wear jeans with a persnickety crease, the feminine fussiness of that tickled him. The plain sandals on her pretty feet revealed neatly clipped toenails painted a soft pink. He’d never been particularly attracted to a woman’s feet before, but Lorna’s were almost as touchable looking as the rest of her.