He’d Have Liked Nothing More Than To Climb Right Into That Shower With Her, But He Had Things To See To.

A baby to deal with.

Normally he’d have hesitated to enter the room where the baby slept, but anxiety and adrenaline pushed him into the room. He leaned over the crib and looked down at the tiny, red-faced occupant. “Hey, little man, what’s the matter?”

Bobby stopped crying. And then he smiled. Not a tentative smile, but a wriggling, fist-waving, feet-kicking, face-splitting grin.

Marty’s throat grew tight. A shaft of the familiar pain speared his heart, but he forced himself to reach down and slide his hands beneath the baby, lifting him up and settling him against his chest. The baby snuggled in as if he belonged there.

Maybe he did. Marty blinked, trying to clear vision suddenly suspiciously blurred. This child was a member of his family, his child now.

Dear Reader,

Happy New Year from Silhouette Desire, where we offer you six passionate, powerful and provocative romances every month of the year! Here’s what you can indulge yourself with this January….

Begin the new year with a seductive MAN OF THE MONTH, Tall, Dark & Western by Anne Marie Winston. A rancher seeking a marriage of convenience places a personals ad for a wife, only to fall—hard—for the single mom who responds!

Silhouette Desire proudly presents a sequel to the wildly successful in-line continuity series THE TEXAS CATTLEMAN’S CLUB. This exciting new series about alpha men on a mission is called TEXAS CATTLEMAN’S CLUB: LONE STAR JEWELS. Jennifer Greene’s launch book, Millionaire M.D., features a wealthy surgeon who helps out his childhood crush when she finds a baby on her doorstep—by marrying her!

Alexandra Sellers continues her exotic miniseries SONS OF THE DESERT with one more irresistible sheikh in Sheikh’s Woman. THE BARONS OF TEXAS miniseries by Fayrene Preston returns with another feisty Baron heroine in The Barons of Texas: Kit. In Kathryn Jensen’s The Earl’s Secret, a British aristocrat romances a U.S. commoner while wrestling with a secret. And Shirley Rogers offers A Cowboy, a Bride & a Wedding Vow, in which a cowboy discovers his secret child.

So ring in the new year with lots of cheer and plenty of red-hot romance, by reading all six of these enticing love stories.

Enjoy!

Joan Marlow Golan

Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire

Tall, Dark & Western
Anne Marie Winston

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ANNE MARIE WINSTON

has believed in happy endings all her life. Having the opportunity to share them with her readers gives her great joy. Anne Marie enjoys figure skating and working in the gardens of her south-central Pennsylvania home.

For Harold, who keeps all my parts in working order.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Epilogue

Prologue

When he saw the letter addressed in a looping, unfamiliar feminine handwriting, Marty Stryker withdrew the mail from his post office box in Kadoka, South Dakota, as if it might be poisonous. Stopping by the trash barrel in the corner to get rid of the junk mail, he held up the envelope, weighing it in his palm.

Should he even read it? The last few had been so goofy he hadn’t even bothered to answer them. Quickly, he slit one envelope and scanned the contents.

Dear Rancher,

How much would I have to know about children to marry you? I am eighteen years old. I know you might think that’s a little young but—

With a snort, Marty tossed the letter into the trash. And another one bites the dust.

Dispiritedly, he pushed open the heavy door and stepped out into the icy winter afternoon. His truck was parked at an angle just a few steps away on Main Street and he quickly strode over and folded his big frame inside, starting the engine and sitting there for a minute while it warmed up. He took off his hat and tossed it onto the seat, running his fingers through his gold-tipped curls.

A mild depression settled over him. He’d placed an ad in several Rapid City, South Dakota, papers nearly a year ago for a wife. Who’d have thought it would be so difficult to find a good woman?

He reached for the keys and cranked the engine, then started the drive south out of town to the Lucky Stryke, the outfit he worked with his brother Deck. All Marty wanted was a capable, friendly woman to share the raising of his daughter and help with the work around the ranch. Someone who’d enjoy a good romp between the sheets a few nights a week. She didn’t have to declare undying love; in fact he wouldn’t even consider marrying anyone who did.

No, he’d had love once. And losing Lora had been unbearable. All he wanted now was a partner, someone he liked enough to live with and make a life with. He didn’t want more children, so she’d have to be someone who didn’t hanker after babies. But other than that, he didn’t have a lot of requirements.

Or maybe he did. He thought back over the past few months to some of the disastrous encounters he’d had. Drunken women, priggish women, women who said they were thirty when they were closer to sixty…the one that took the cake, though, was the one who had declared that she could never live in a Godforsaken place like Kadoka.

He loved his little town, with its population of seven hundred something. He loved the wide, flat prairie and the gently rolling hills. He loved the lousy winters and the scorching summers, the stupid cattle and the awesome power of the storms that swept down from the north. He glanced out the window at the eroded outcroppings and peaks of the Badlands that stretched away to the west, stark and strangely beautiful to his eye—

And against his will, he remembered another trip on this very road, over two years ago, heading in the opposite direction at a much higher rate of speed as he’d rushed to get his laboring wife to the hospital in Rapid City.

His hands clenched on the steering wheel and the tips of his fingers grew white. He’d lost the battle with time on the trip, lost both Lora and the infant son she’d carried, and lived with the loneliness and grief every day since. Getting married again wasn’t at the top of his list of things he really wanted to accomplish in his lifetime, but he had his daughter to think of. His daughter, his beautiful, totally out of control daughter, needed a mother. And he was tired of sleeping alone, trying to get meals and laundry done in between feeding, branding and birthing calves, tired of the dreary look his home had acquired without a woman’s presence.

So he guessed he’d keep on with his ad campaign, even though his brother and his friends thought it was a crazy idea.

The right woman had to be out there somewhere.

Juliette Duchenay dropped the envelope through the mail slot in the Rapid City, South Dakota Post Office.

A full minute later, she still stood in front of the box. What in the world had possessed her to answer a perfect stranger’s ad for a wife? She must be out of her mind!

She crossed her arms and stared at the box. She was tiny. Maybe if she took off her winter coat, her arm would fit through the slot and she could fish out her envelope. It was illegal, true, but…

She was seriously considering the idea when another after-hours customer walked into the post office lobby. And then another. Clearly her career in crime wasn’t meant to be.

Slowly she picked up the infant carrier in which her six-week-old son Bobby slept. Oh, well. Probably the man wouldn’t even answer her. Maybe he’d found someone already. The paper she’d picked up had been one of the more ridiculous “meet-a-mate” ones she’d seen in the airport when she’d been coming home from her most recent trip to California. She’d begun to read it for the sake of amusement until it had occurred to her that if she were married, her mother-in-law would have to stop the strong-arm tactics to get her to return to California and move in with her.

Married. It seemed like a drastic step to take, but her mother-in-law was a drastic person. Since Juliette had been widowed, it had been increasingly difficult to make a single decision regarding her own life. She’d gone along with it in the months after Rob’s death but now she wasn’t pregnant, grieving and exhausted all the time. Unfortunately, when she’d tried to reclaim her life, Millicent Duchenay had gone behind her back and sublet the apartment she’d found. She’d cut off the trust fund that had been Rob’s, all the while explaining that it really was best for Bobby if they remained in one home, an extended family together….

And that had been when Juliette had had enough. Moving to Rapid City had seemed drastic at the time. But now she wasn’t sure it was drastic enough. Millicent had buckets of money, and money talked. At least, it had talked to the owners of the department store where Juliette had found a job. Her manager had given her two weeks notice along with a quiet warning not to tell her mother-in-law where she was working the next time. She’d gotten another job and heeded his advice. But she was becoming increasingly concerned about her mother-in-law’s need for control.

Bobby was not going to grow up stifled by his family the way his father had. Oh, she’d loved Rob. But they’d met while they were at college and they’d married suddenly before moving back to the town where he’d grown up…where his mother still lived. Would she have married Rob if she’d seen how tightly he still was tied to his mother’s apron strings? She’d never wanted to think too much about the answer to that. She’d loved Rob. Of course she’d have married him anyway.

Maybe.

Millicent was a high-maintenance mother-in-law. They’d never had an open disagreement, largely because Juliette had used every ounce of tact and restraint she’d owned when dealing with the older woman. When Rob had died, she’d gradually come to see that Millicent would rule her life if she let her.

So she hadn’t.

Moving more briskly now, she headed for her car, attaching Bobby’s seat to the base that made it a safety restraint in the middle of the back seat. As she slid into the driver’s seat, the ad that had started all the trouble caught her eye:

“Single white male, thirties. Prosperous rancher seeks hardworking woman for marriage, household management, child care. Offers security, fidelity and comfortable lifestyle.”

The message had stuck out among the others because it was so straightforward. This man didn’t advertise himself as Mr. Romantic, ready to shower a woman with love and affection. He didn’t specify a bra size for his applicants, or an age. He didn’t care whether they liked a moonlit stroll or red roses, ballroom dancing or candlelit dinners. And most important, he must have children if he needed child care. So he probably wouldn’t mind one more.

But she hadn’t mentioned Bobby in her letter. Some newly cautious instinct had told her to wait.

Marty Stryker tore open the envelope and read the single, hand-written note he’d found in his post office box in Kadoka, South Dakota:

November 29

Dear Sir,

I am writing in response to your advertisement for a wife. If the position is still available, I would like to be considered. I am twenty-four years old, have been married and am now a widow. I believe I could cook, clean and run your household. I am interested in children and would be happy to care for yours. If you would like to meet, I presently am living and working in Rapid City.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Sincerely,

Juliette Duchenay

December 5

Dear Mrs. Duchenay,

Thank you for your letter. I have a four-year-old daughter and I need someone to help care for her. I also need help with my house since I am a rancher and am out working a lot. I would be happy to meet you in Rapid. A Saturday or Sunday afternoon would be best.

Sincerely,

Todd Martin Stryker, Jr.

December 12

Dear Mr. Stryker,

It was a pleasure to hear from you. I look forward to hearing more about your daughter and your ranch. Could we meet in the food court at Rushmore Mall on Saturday, Dec. 27 at 2:00 p.m.? I am blond and will be wearing a black dress.

Sincerely,

Juliette Duchenay

December 20

Dear Mrs. Duchenay,

Please call me Marty. Sat. the 27 at 2:00 p.m. is a good time for me. I look forward to meeting you then. I will be wearing a brown Stetson to help you identify me.

Sincerely,

Marty Stryker

One

The woman caught his attention the minute she walked into the café food court at the Rushmore Mall in Rapid City, South Dakota. Not because she was particularly well endowed, which was usually one of Marty Stryker’s preferences in feminine company, but because she was so beautiful.

Beautiful, he thought again. Not just pretty, definitely not cute, but breathtakingly gorgeous.

She was tiny, probably not more than five feet tall, and so dainty she looked as though a good wind would send her sailing. As she stood in the middle of the walkway near the food court, a weak ray of winter sunshine fell through one of the skylights, illuminating her pale blond beauty and for a moment, all he could think of was that she looked exactly like an angel.

She was fine-boned, with just about the biggest blue eyes he thought he’d ever seen, and her shining hair was smoothly caught in some kind of fancy twist at the back of her head. She had a straight little nose and a lipsticked pair of bowed lips that reminded him of a perfect china doll. The simple black dress she wore emphasized her fair coloring and a slender, almost childish figure beneath the fabric. She glanced at him once, a flash of intense blue, then looked away, and a hint of rose slid along her high, slanted cheekbones.

Marty was charmed. And turned on. He hadn’t had a woman in…how the heck long had it been, anyway? It was a real bad sign when a man couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had sex.

But he hardly had time, not to mention the lack of opportunity. Single women weren’t exactly thick on the ground around Kadoka, and the few who were interested in accommodating a man weren’t the kind he wanted to get anywhere near. After all, he was a father. He had standards.

But man, oh, man, wouldn’t it be great if she were the one— Whoa, horse. Marty caught the thought before he could complete it. He didn’t need a beautiful wife. In fact, he’d already met beautiful women, much more his type than this little angel, in his quest for a wife. None of them had worked out. He’d promised himself he wasn’t going to be so picky next time. There weren’t that many women answering his ad for a wife that he could keep on looking for the perfect candidate.

And he wanted a wife. Not just for the sex, but for the company. God, he missed sharing simple things like picking out birthday gifts for Cheyenne, drinking morning coffee and conversation.

Then the angel turned his way again. Her eyes locked on his and her eyebrows lifted in a tentative question. She started toward him and he remembered that his wife candidate had said she’d be wearing black.

His heart rate picked up a beat. He stood, whipping off the Stetson he’d worn to identify himself to the woman he was supposed to meet.

“Mr. Stryker?” She was standing in front of him now.

He nodded, not sure if his vocal cords would cooperate if he tried to speak.

“I’m Juliette Duchenay.” The angel held out her hand. Then she smiled.

Marty hoped his face didn’t show the shock to his system as he slowly reached out and enfolded her fragile fingers in his much larger, anything but fragile palm. The smile transformed her from classically lovely to drop-dead beautiful, bringing a mischievous sparkle to her eyes and displaying white, perfect teeth. Her smile had a pixieish quality to it, a genuine friendliness that he found he liked. A lot.

“It’s good to meet you.” It was the first thing he could manage to say, the first words his tongue would wrap themselves around as his palm swallowed hers. She had the tiniest hands he’d ever seen, and the skin was as warm and soft and feminine as he’d imagined.

There was an awkward silence.

Marty roused himself from his bemused stupor. He usually was smooth as silk with the ladies and proud of it. Mrs. Juliette Duchenay would think he was a tongue-tied prairie clod if he didn’t start talking.

“Would you like to sit down?” There. That was a start.

“Thank you.” The faintest touch of pink rose in her cheeks again. A discreet tug made him realize he still was holding her hand and he let her fingers slide away from his, an unsettling feeling of regret lingering. He’d liked holding her hand. The color in her cheeks deepened as he held a chair for her, and he wondered if the skin there felt as baby-soft and fine as it looked. She smiled at him as he seated her at one of the small white tables. “Thank you for wearing your hat. It made you easy to find.”

He nodded, not about to tell her that he’d done this nearly a dozen times with prior candidates, all of whom had been unsuitable. “You’re welcome.” He indicated the food counters ranged around the walls beyond the potted palms and white pillars. “Would you like something to eat or drink?”

“No, thank you.” She shook her head. She glanced at the elegant gold watch on her slim wrist. “I’m on my break, so I don’t have much time. Why don’t we just talk?”

He nodded. Took a deep breath. “Why did you answer my ad?” Why would a woman like you need to marry a stranger?

Delicately arched eyebrows drew together in a perplexed expression. “I…it was an impulse, if you want to know the truth.”

“And how are you feeling about the impulse now? I’m not interested in something short-term, Mrs. Duchenay. This would be a permanent arrangement.”

“Please call me Juliette. I’m still interested, Mr.— Marty.”

Her eyes were soft and luminous. He could look into those eyes for the rest of his life without any trouble, any trouble at all.

“Good.” He wanted to take her hand, to touch her again. God, her skin was soft. Was she that soft all over? He could hardly wait to find out.

“So,” he said. “You work in the mall.”

“Yes,” she said. “And you’re a rancher.”

Even if he hadn’t put his occupation in the ad, he knew it wasn’t a hard call. His skin was tanned from his work outdoors, especially since they’d had a mild fall until the recent big snow. No, as he surveyed his big mitts, he saw there was no way anyone could mistake his hands—scarred from encounters with cranky cattle, barbwire, buffaloberries, splintered wood and hammers that missed their mark—for a city boy’s.

“Beef or sheep?” his pretty lady asked.

“Beef. My brother and I have an outfit near the Badlands. Our ranch is called the Lucky Stryke.”

“Have you always lived there?”

“All my life. Are you from this area?” He was pretty sure she wasn’t, but he couldn’t figure out where her accent might have been from.

She hesitated for a moment so brief that he could have imagined it. Then she said, “No. I’ve only been in Rapid City a short while. I was born in California but my family moved around a lot so I don’t really call anyplace ‘home.”’

“Where do you work?”

“At the moment, in a women’s clothing shop. But I’d really love to work in a bookstore. Of course, I’d never make any money because I’d spend it all on books.”

Marty laughed. “I know the feeling. What do you like to read?”

She shrugged. “Just about anything I can get my hands on. All types of fiction, nonfiction, magazines…my only requirement is that it be well written and gripping.”

“So that leaves out cereal boxes,” he said.

She smiled again, and again it hit him like a physical contact from a fist. Had he ever seen a woman as classically beautiful? As vibrant?

“Don’t bet on that,” she said, and it took him a moment to remember they were talking about cereal boxes.

There was another small silence, and he smiled at her across the table, enchanted with her feminine presence.

She shook her head. “I can’t believe you have to advertise for a wife.”

He shrugged. “There aren’t that many women who want to live in the back of beyond with a lot of cows.”

“Exactly what are you looking for?” she asked him. “What do you want a wife to do?”

Marty hesitated. Then he shrugged. “No point in sugar-coating it,” he said. “I work long hours, mostly outdoors. I need someone to keep my house clean and in good shape, wash and mend clothes, make meals and take care of my daughter. Maybe plant a garden in the summer and help with the stock sometimes.”

Her eyes widened. “I’m willing to work and I like to cook but you might have to teach me a few things about gardening and animals.”

So she was a city girl, just as he’d suspected. “I could do that.”

“How old is your daughter?”

“She’ll be five next June. Her mother passed away two years ago and—” The expected pang of grief and guilt clutched at his heart as it always did, and he suppressed the flood of emotion that threatened. “—and she really needs a woman’s hand,” he finished quietly.

Juliette nodded, her face serious and sympathetic.

Marty shrugged his shoulders, wishing he were another man in another time, meeting this woman without all the baggage that came with his life. Then he immediately was overwhelmed by guilt. How could he even be thinking stuff like that when he’d once promised to love Lora forever? Until death. He wanted to squeeze his skull between his palms until all the contrary notions settled down. “It doesn’t sound very attractive, I know—”

“It does to me,” she said.

He stared at her. “It does?”

“I think I’d like being a housewife.” She smiled. “That is what you mean, right?”

“Yes. Although I think the politically correct term today is ‘domestic engineer.”’

She laughed. “I like the sound of that.” Then she glanced at her watch again. “I’d better be getting back to work.”

“Afraid you’ll get fired?”

She smiled serenely. “No. I’m a good sales-woman.”

“Do you like it?”

She shrugged. “It’s a job. One of life’s necessary evils.”

“Unless you marry me.” Spoken straight out like that, it sounded so…intimate. His mind shot right to dark nights in a warm bed.

She raised her gaze to his, and for the longest moment he forgot everything around him and just let himself wallow in those eyes. Was she thinking what he was thinking?

“I really have to go,” she said softly, rising.

As she started out of the food court, he grabbed his hat and followed, taking her elbow when they reached the central walkway that led back to the rest of the mall. After the crowded café area, it seemed positively spacious.

He could feel the fragile bones of her arm beneath his fingers and the warmth of her skin. She seemed tiny walking beside him, and he acknowledged the attraction knotting his gut, making his body stir in response. His heart still belonged to Lora, but his body knew she’d been gone for two years. No question about it. “I’ll walk you back to work,” he said.

“All right.” She smiled up at him. “It’s just down this way.”

They strolled down the mall, passing specialty shops that sold jewelry from the Black Hills, apparel for women in the family way, sunglasses and leather goods.

Her feet slowed as another store on the far corner of the square into which they walked came in sight, and she paused just outside the entrance. “This is it.”

He looked from her to the displays in the windows, and into the quietly elegant shop behind her. “This is where you work?”

“This is it,” she said primly.

He felt a slow flush begin at his neck as the stirring in his jeans became a potential embarrassment. The sign proclaimed, “Hidden Pleasures,” and he could see why they wanted to keep it hidden. Juliette worked in a store that sold women’s underwear! And not just any women’s underwear. Filmy, see-through stuff, edged with ruffles and lace, cut into amazingly brief garments, trimmed in satin and velvet—underwear that made a man dream of a woman wearing it. Or not wearing it.

“Marty?” Juliette was smiling that smile that wiped out all his brain cells.

He looked down at her, feeling sheepish and embarrassed. “Sorry,” he said. “I was just a little surprised.”

She put out her hand. “Will I hear from you again?”

Would she hear from him again? Did the earth rotate around the sun? He needed to spend a little more time with her before he was sure, but he already could imagine Juliette in his home.

“How about a drink after you get off work?” he asked. “We could get to know each other a little more.”

Her smiled faded and anxiety carved a little crease in her brow. Then it cleared. “Well, maybe just one short one,” she said. “I have some things to take care of at home.”

“All right,” he said. “See you at—what time?”

“Seven. I’ll meet you right here.” She turned to enter the store, then peeked at him over her shoulder and raised her fingers to wave before she walked away.

And he was damned glad her back was turned because there was no way he could control the way his body reacted to that little smile. Hastily he swung away and headed down the mall, willing himself to think of anything, everything, except women and bedrooms.

And his upcoming date with Juliette Duchenay, manager of a sexy underwear store and his potential wife.

He reappeared at twenty minutes before seven.

Juliette caught sight of Marty through the windows of the store as she rang up a purchase and bagged items for a customer. He had settled his large frame on one of the benches in an arrangement of fake trees in the center of the wide walk-through, and as she watched, he opened the bag he carried and pulled out a book.

She didn’t know what she’d expected from a man who would advertise for a wife, but Marty surely was the last man she’d ever have imagined would need to do such a thing. He was incredibly handsome. Unlike her own straight, nearly cornsilk tresses, his hair was a chestnut-colored halo with wayward curls tipped by shining gold, the color probably enhanced by the hours he spent outside on his ranch. His hat lay on the bench beside him, and there was the suggestion of a hat ring crimped into his hair.

His eyes were the purest sky-blue she’d ever seen, made even bluer by the tan that made his skin glow. He wore a heavy leather jacket, but beneath the practical jeans and Western-style workshirt his body was broad-shouldered, slim-hipped and long-legged; in short, incredibly sexy.

She’d looked over her shoulder one last time after she’d waved at him earlier and caught his back view moving off down the mall. His jeans molded his butt and encased his muscular legs and she wondered what he’d be like as a lover. That thought made her pause.

Was she seriously considering marriage to a perfect stranger?

She already knew the answer. If it had been any other man in that food court, she’d probably have been polite and friendly and told him she’d made a mistake. After all, she’d had misgivings the very day she’d mailed her letter, and when she’d received an answer she’d nearly chickened out altogether.

But now…now everything had changed.

When her gaze had met Marty’s for the first time in the food court, something had pulled into an almost painful ball in her abdomen and she’d had to remember to take another breath. Had she ever been attracted to Rob like this? She must have been once. Of course she had been. The twin strains of widowhood and motherhood probably just had dulled the edges of her memories.

Sex appeal. That’s all it was. And she should be dismissing it as fast as she would have with any other man. But now she’d met Marty, and found that the man beneath the appealing exterior was every bit as appealing in personality.

She liked him. She liked him a lot.

Of course she did, she thought as she moved to the back of the store to assist another customer. Why else would she have called her baby-sitter and asked her if she’d mind staying later than usual tonight? She normally was fanatical about getting home to Bobby. And a part of her felt torn even now. Before he’d been born, she couldn’t imagine the powerful maternal feelings that dictated her every move. Now…she thought of nearly everything in terms of how it would affect her son.

She must be crazy. But Marty appealed to her in a powerful way that she couldn’t resist, couldn’t walk away from. He seemed like such a good man. He’d make her son a wonderful father. If she didn’t reach out and take this chance, she could be missing something important. Something that could change her life forever.

The last few minutes until closing time stretched interminably until finally the last customer was walking out of the store.

Marty lifted his head, and his gaze sought hers. When her eyes locked with his, she drew in a breath. He didn’t smile, didn’t move, but that look seared her with an unspoken possessiveness and deep in her stomach, nerves she hadn’t known existed began to hum with awareness.

The moment vibrated between them long after the exchange of gazes ended. He waited while she locked the heavy barred doors of the shop, and then he escorted her to the parking lot. He invited her to go with him to a popular watering hole whose name she recognized from overhearing the conversations of some of her co-workers, and when she asked him if she could follow his truck in her own car, he didn’t appear to mind.

The bar was large and noisy and crowded. Marty settled her at a small table next to the dance floor and went to the bar. When he returned with the soda she’d requested, she was surprised to see that he carried one for himself.

Apparently he noticed, because he said, “I have a two-hour drive home tonight. No drinks for me.”

She nodded. “Good practice.”

He indicated the energetic couples doing a two-step around the dance floor. “Do you do this?”

She shook her head. “I’ve watched, but no, I’ve never tried it.”

“Then it’s time you did.” Marty clasped her wrist and started for the floor.

“Marty! I’ll step on your toes!”

He stopped and looked back over his shoulder, and his lips curved, then parted as he laughed. “You’re just a little thing. I’ll hold you high so your feet don’t touch the floor.”

She smiled and let him pull her out amid the dancers, but when he faced her and held out his arms, she suddenly realized she would be stepping into the embrace of a man she barely knew. Other women do it all the time, she told herself. It’s just dancing.

But deep inside she was afraid that with this man, it might be much more than that. And when his arm slipped around her waist and his brawny strength encircled her, it felt so right that she automatically relaxed and let him lead her.

They danced several dances. Marty taught her the steps, patiently reminding her until she had mastered his movements. He was a strong lead; all she had to do was stay loose and let him put her where he wanted her.

She was very conscious of the words of one romantic song, and when Marty pulled her in and tucked her head under his chin, she could have stayed there all night. They swayed to the three-step, waltzing slowly on the crowded floor, and she fought the urge to press herself closer, to burrow into his warmth and strength and let him take care of her.

“There’s something I’ve got to ask you.” His voice was a low rumble above her head, and she tilted her face up so that she could see his expression.

“What?” Yes, you can kiss me. Please kiss me!

Marty lowered his head until his lips brushed her ear. “Do you wear that stuff you sell?”

His tone was deep and husky, and his hands drew her even closer as his lips lightly caressed the outline of her ear. Arousal rushed through her so fast that she sagged against him; his arms tightened and his hands slipped over her until she was held flush against every inch of his big body. Every hard, male inch.

She swallowed. “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.” Good heavens, Juliette! Whatever possessed you?

His feet stopped moving for an instant. Then he twirled her in a deep turn again, molding her body to his, and she heard him chuckle. “All right. Do you have a time frame in mind here?”

She gazed up at him. “A time frame?”

“For a wedding,” he prompted. “I’d like to marry you.”

She opened her mouth. Then she shut it again without a word. Heavens! She’d expected to have more time to think about this. “I’d like to marry you, too,” she said, “But—”

“How does Friday sound?” he asked her. “I can get the license and make the arrangements, and we’ll start the new year with a wedding.”

Her eyes widened. “This coming Friday? That’s—that’s soon!”

He nodded, smiling at her reaction. “I don’t have a reason to wait. Do you?”

She started to say yes, but the word wouldn’t come out. “Well, uh…I guess not.”

“Good.” He took a deep breath and, held as she was against him, the action lifted her clear of the floor for an instant before he set her down again. Automatically she glanced at her watch. It couldn’t be nearly nine. Could it? Good heavens, she had to get home to Bobby! Ruefully she thought that a week could have passed while she was in Marty’s arms and she wouldn’t have noticed.

“I have to go,” she murmured regretfully.

“Yeah, I’ll be sorry if I don’t get going, too.”

But he made no move to let her loose.

Finally she stepped back, slipping her hands from his. “I really do have to go.”

Marty reached over the railing separating the dance floor from the tables and snagged his jacket and her long winter coat, holding it for her to slip on before he shrugged into his own. Then, as if he’d been doing it for years, he took her hand and led her out of the bar to the parking lot, where they’d parked their vehicles not far from each other.

He walked with her until they reached her car, stopping beside the driver’s door, still holding her hand in a loose clasp.

“Juliette…” His voice was low and hesitant.

“Yes?” She realized she was whispering.

“I feel like I’ve known you a lot longer than just one evening.”

She nodded, glad that he was feeling some of the magic that she was. “I know.”

He stepped closer, took her hands and placed them on the shoulders of his jacket, then pulled her against him. “I’m going to kiss you,” he said.

And as his head blotted out the stars, and the warmth of his arms around her banished the chilly December air, she wondered what she’d have done if he hadn’t. She wanted to feel his mouth moving on hers worse than she’d wanted anything since she was about five and she’d thought she would die if she didn’t get that doll at Disneyland.

His breath feathered across her cheek, and then the kiss she craved began as his lips settled onto hers. The sensation was exquisite. His mouth was warm and firm as it moved over hers, and she slipped her arms up around his neck, offering herself to him in a wordless motion that he clearly recognized.

She’d missed this, the warm physical pleasures two people could share. But as Marty’s tongue flicked along the line of her lips, outlining the shape of her mouth, she had to be honest with herself. She didn’t ever remember feeling quite so shaky, trembly, totally turned on before.

Then his mouth grew bolder, and she stopped thinking as she parted her lips, letting him in. He gathered her closer so that she could feel the arousal confined by his jeans and her breasts were crushed against his chest. She twisted slightly, whimpering a little into his mouth in an unconscious plea for more, and he answered her, bending her backward over his arm. His mouth devoured hers, burning a hot path down her throat as he nuzzled beneath her open jacket, over her throat. He nipped at her collarbone, and she shivered in his arms. Then his mouth slid lower, grazing the upper swell of her breast. He raised a hand and brushed aside the fabric of the little black dress and he was suddenly, shockingly, suckling her breast right through the lacy fabric of her bra.

She arched against him, gasping at the sharp, exciting sensation. Between her legs, an aching throb demanded satisfaction, and she squirmed against him until she was half-astride his thigh.

And then he lifted his head. He went completely still and so did she. He shifted her so that she was upright, facing him, and they both made small sounds of protest as she slid over the rigid flesh at his loins.

She realized her fingers were gripping his hair so hard it must hurt. His chest was heaving, and every muscle in his big body was like steel. Deliberately she relaxed her fists and slid her hands down to rest against his chest. As sanity returned, embarrassment set in. What was Marty thinking of her?

“We’re standing in a parking lot,” he said through gritted teeth. He sighed and pressed his forehead to hers. “The things I want to do to you, with you, aren’t going to happen in a parking lot or any other public place. And they aren’t going to happen until we know each other better.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly, wondering if the heat in her cheeks was producing a glow in the evening light. His restraint touched her. “I don’t—this isn’t the kind of thing—” She stumbled over the words, because they weren’t true. She did, and she had, and very possibly she would have, with him.

“I know.” He pressed a kiss to her brow. “I know. It’s not my style, either.” Then he placed a gentle finger beneath her chin and tipped her face up, inspecting her as she stared back at him, wide-eyed. “Do you have a piece of paper and a pen?”

“Um, I think so.”

“Write down your phone number for me.”

“Oh. All right.” He released her so she could dig through her purse, and she quickly did as he requested. “Here,” she said, handing him the slip of paper. It was still hard to breathe evenly, and she saw the flash of his grin light up his face.

“Glad I’m not the only one who’s having trouble recovering,” he teased, and she had to smile back. Then he drew her into his arms again, holding her loosely with his hands linked at her back. “I’ll call you this week.”

“I won’t be home until late each evening,” she said. “Better wait until after nine.” It wasn’t true, but she wanted to be able to savor his call, and it would be hard to keep her attention undivided if Bobby was awake.

“All right. Then we can talk more about Friday.”

“Marty…” She couldn’t keep the troubled note from her voice. “Friday is awfully soon. This is crazy!”

He nodded. “If we were teenagers with no experience, I’d agree. But we’re adults. I’ve been thinking of remarrying for quite a while, and I know what I want.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “I want you.”

And I want you, her heart answered. I love you. She barely stopped herself from uttering the words and she stood stock-still, too shocked to move. Could she really be in love with a man she’d met a few hours ago?

Of course she couldn’t. Infatuation, that’s what it was. Nobody fell in love that fast.

Did they?

He unclasped his hands and turned her toward her car. When she pulled out her keys, he took them from her and unlocked the door, then helped her in with a chivalrous grace that would have charmed her if she hadn’t fallen so hard already. “Think about it and let me know.”

He leaned in and took her lips in one final kiss, thrusting his tongue between her lips and demanding her response until she was straining forward as far as her seat belt would allow, trying to get closer to him. But long before she was satisfied, he drew his head away. His rough fingers caressed her cheek, and then he stood back, shutting her door and waiting until her engine started before he strode across the lot to his pickup truck.

She watched him climb in, then realized he was waiting for her to move before leaving the lot, and she was touched by his thoughtfulness.

A squirming little sensation of guilt wormed its way into her euphoria, though, as she took a left out of the exit and drove toward her apartment. She hadn’t told him about her baby.

She would, she assured herself, evading the guilt. It was just that everything had been so new, so special. So perfect. She’d been prepared to graciously back out of the meeting, had had no intention of actually considering an arranged marriage, but once she’d met Marty…

Dreamily, she smiled as she parked near her building. She’d tell him about Bobby soon. And she was willing to bet she was worrying for nothing. Marty must be a good father to his daughter, to be going to such lengths to improve her life. Surely he’d be equally good to her son.

Two

On Sunday morning Marty drew straws with his brother to see who got the unenviable task of replacing some rotting H-braces along one fence line in the larger winter pasture. It had warmed up after the five inches of snow they’d had last week and they were going to get as much done as they could before it snowed again.

Even when he came up holding the shorter piece of hay, his good mood couldn’t be banished.

Deck eyed him with suspicion as he handed Marty the post-hole digger. “You look like the village idiot. Something you want to tell me?”

“Nope.” Marty lifted tools into the back of his pickup as Deck laid a coil of barbwire beside them.

“Only thing I can think of that makes a man smile like that is a woman. Just what’d you do in Rapid City last night?”

“None of your business.”

Deck chuckled. “I knew it! You were with a woman.”

He sure had been, but he didn’t intend to tell his brother about it yet. It was still too new, too…special to share.

He hummed under his breath the whole way out to the pasture, eyeing the brilliant color of the wide-open sky and seeing no signs of storms.

No question about it—last night had been the best thing that had happened to him in a long time. He knew in his bones that he could convince Juliette to marry him on Friday. He was as excited as a little kid, thinking about the coming weekend.

No, he took that back. He was excited, all right, but no little kid ever felt the way he was feeling every time he thought about her slender frame, her soft lips and wide, blue eyes. All the signs pointed to a high-pressure system that wasn’t going to leave anytime soon.

Well, he could wait. Just barely, but he could wait until Friday to make love to Juliette.

His hands stilled on the post he was setting into the hole he’d dug as he allowed himself to consider what he was thinking. This was the first time since Lora’s death that he’d thought seriously of a woman. He’d thought about marriage on a purely objective level, and the steady sex that would come with it had been an abstract until now. Oh, he’d had sex a few times—a very few times—in the two years since he’d buried his wife, but he’d never planned it and the women hadn’t been important, just interested in a good time.

Making love. That was a troublesome phrase.

He’d made love with Lora. Made love to her. Well and often, during the nine and a half years of their marriage. She’d been the first and only girl he’d ever had, and he’d loved her. Oh, how he’d loved her. He’d thought he couldn’t get any happier when they’d married, a week after graduating from high school, but he’d been wrong. When Cheyenne had been born, his happiness had doubled.

His spirits dimmed as he thought of Lora’s pregnancies. He’d wanted a houseful of kids—his and Lora’s. But it wasn’t to be. She’d had three miscarriages before Cheyenne came along.

And then…then she’d gotten pregnant again. She’d had a little spotting early on, and the doctor had cautioned her against any strenuous activity. They’d both been afraid of losing this baby the way they’d lost the earlier ones, so Marty had made her stay in Rapid with a friend of theirs for a few weeks. But things had gone so well that she’d soon come home again, and as she’d grown bigger, they forgot they’d been concerned.

When the unthinkable happened, it couldn’t have been at a worse time. Lora had gone into labor two months early with no warning. He was out rounding up stock at a pasture much farther from the house than he usually worked. She’d come bouncing across the pasture in his old truck to find him, which couldn’t have been good, and they’d raced for the hospital.

But they hadn’t made it. Her labor had been fast and frightening. Three-quarters of the way to Rapid City, Marty had to stop on the shoulder of I-90 and deliver the baby himself, a son so small and fragile it seemed a miracle he was even breathing. Lora had bled and bled…and he hadn’t been able to do a damn thing except wrap his too-tiny son in his jacket and race for the hospital.

He’d never forget the final moments of that frantic trip, when her increasingly thready voice had finally quit answering his desperate pleas for her to stay with him, to keep talking to him….

He couldn’t bear to dwell on the wrenching hours of the days that had followed, days in which he’d rarely left the hospital, so he returned to thoughts of Juliette.

She was so unlike Lora, who’d been tall and sturdy, with generous breasts and wide hips that should have been able to birth a dozen babies easily. No, Juliette was nothing like Lora. She was small all over, slender and fragile and so fine-boned that he was afraid one incautious movement might snap her right in two.

What would sex be like with her? It wouldn’t be making love. Couldn’t be, unless he loved her, which he couldn’t possibly. Could he? It troubled him to realize that with Juliette, he wouldn’t simply be having sex.

No, when he had her soft body beneath his, had her responding to the touch of his hand, let himself drown in the pleasures he knew she offered, he wouldn’t be thinking of Lora.

The whole train of thought was so disturbing he abandoned it.

He’d thought about calling Juliette last night when he’d gotten home but he’d been afraid it might make him look too desperate. As he wrestled the post-hole digger into place for another attack on the gummy prairie sod, he knew good and well he wasn’t going to wait another night.

He barely waited until the clock said one minute after nine that evening before he dialed the number she’d given him. It rang twice, and then a breathless female voice said, “Hello?”

“Juliette.”

“Marty?”

“Yeah. Hi.”

“Hi.”

If he’d harbored any doubts about her, they vanished the second her soft voice uttered his name. He closed his eyes and said the first thing that came into his head. “I wish I were there with you right now.”

There was a beat of silence, and he kicked himself for being too presumptuous. Just because he felt…connected to her didn’t mean she felt the same way.

Then she said, “I wish you were, too.”

The soft note of genuine regret in her tone pleased him. “I miss you.”

“That’s crazy. You don’t know me well enough to miss me.” There was another small silence, and then she confessed, “I miss you, too.”

He took a deep breath as his pulse increased; he had to clamp down hard on the urge to tell her he was going to drive into Rapid City right now. If he hadn’t had Cheyenne to think of, he just might have done it. “So how does one o’clock Friday sound?”

“One o’clock?” Her voice was a squeak. “You’re serious? You really want to go and get married at one o’clock on Friday?”

“Yep. If you’ll have me.” He knew he was pushing but suddenly he realized he had to hear a commitment from her, had to know she was going to be his.

He wasn’t aware that he was unconsciously holding his breath until she said, “I guess there’s no reason to wait,” in a timid little tone.

“Great.” He was pretty damned tickled that this whole thing seemed to be working out so well.

They talked for over an hour, mostly general getting-to-know-you conversation. He shared everything he could think of about Cheyenne with her. He also began to talk to Cheyenne about Juliette the following day, encouraged when she seemed receptive to the idea of a new mother living in their house.

On Monday he told his brother he was getting married on Friday, and while Deck was still reeling from the shock, he got a promise that Cheyenne could stay with Silver, his sister-in-law, during the day. And he called his bride-to-be again Monday night and Tuesday night.

He told her about his family, his newly married brother and sister-in-law and the closest neighbors, also newly married.

“It was funny,” he said. “I was the one who wanted to get married, and it seemed like everybody else except me was saying ‘I do.”’

“They’re all going to think we’re crazy,” she said.

“I don’t care what they think,” he said. “As long as I get to share a bed with you from dusk to dawn every night.”

He had intended to tease her, but his words back-fired as a heavy rush of desire filled him. He’d been mildly turned on since he’d heard her voice; now he had a serious case of circuit overload threatening.

There was silence on her end of the line. Oh, hell. Had he offended her? He had a big mouth. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Can you just pretend I never said that?”

She laughed, a sweet, musical sound that tiptoed along his nerve endings and snuggled into his bones like an old friend. “Not a chance. I’m going to hold you to it. Dusk to dawn, buddy.”

Now it was his turn to laugh, and it was as much relief that he hadn’t angered her as it was delight. “You little tease. Just wait till I get my hands on you.”

“Okay.”

He groaned.

She said, “Maybe we’d better change the topic,” and he could hear the shy smile in her voice.

“Not a bad plan,” he said. He cast around for something to talk about, but drew a blank.

There was a beat of silence.

“Tell me more about your ranch,” she requested.

“My ranch. All right.” He forced himself to concentrate on the conversation. “I already told you my brother and I own it. We work it together. It’s a good-size operation, about thirty thousand acres.”

“Do you and your brother live together?”

“Not anymore. He and his wife, Silver, live in a cabin that my father built my mother when they were first married but they’re building their own place.”

“I don’t know very much about ranches or cows,” she said.

“That’s okay. I don’t know much about women’s underwear, either.”

She laughed, and there was a short pause. “Have you lived all your life on your ranch?”

“All my life,” he said. “I would never have made it through college. I can’t stand being shut up indoors.”

There was another silence. “I enjoy learning,” she said. “I want to go back to school someday.”

“What do you want to study?”

“Literature,” she said. Then she laughed. “When I said I liked to read, I wasn’t kidding.”

“Were you one of those kids who took a book out on the playground at school recess?” he teased.

“Guilty. My friends used to get so furious with me because they’d ask me a question three times, and if I was reading, I never even heard them.”

“Remind me not to talk to you when you have a book in your hand,” he said.

She chuckled. The sound was soft and musical and it made his blood pressure rise, along with other, more noticeable parts of him. “What was your day like today?” she asked. “I’m trying to get a picture of what your life is like.”

“It was pretty normal for this time of year,” he said. “I spent most of the day in the neighbors’ pasture hunting for three bulls that didn’t come in last time we fed. We finally found them. Two were more than happy to come along home, but the third one wasn’t so cooperative.”

“So what did you do?” His life was as alien to her as if he came from another planet. She’d lived in or near a city all her life; Rapid City, which barely qualified compared to L.A. or San Diego, was by far the smallest metropolis in which she’d ever lived. And a real-live ranch…it certainly was going to be a new experience!

He was laughing as he answered her. “Outsmarted him. He wasn’t about to do what we wanted, so we just kept deviling him until he was so tired he finally gave up. After that, he decided maybe going home wasn’t such a bad idea.”

A noise from the second floor caught his attention, and he stilled. Sounded like Cheyenne was having a nightmare. “I hate to cut this short but I have to go. I’ll call you tomorrow night, all right?”

“All right.” Her voice was soft and sweet, and he hated breaking the connection.

“See you Friday,” he promised.

“All right. Goodbye, Marty.”

Her voice still vibrated along his nerve endings as he raced up the stairs and headed into Cheyenne’s room. God, he couldn’t wait to see her again!

He called her every night during the rest of the week.

It was silly, she told herself, to be getting so dependent on a little thing like the ring of a telephone at a certain time. Still, she caught herself checking her watch every few minutes, anticipation burgeoning within her as the big hand dragged closer and closer to ten.

They talked and talked, until she winced at the thought of the long-distance bill.

“But soon we can do this in person whenever we want,” Marty pointed out.

He told her about his daughter, and she realized the little girl was going to be a challenge. She was four years old and apparently far too good at getting her own way. Well, that would be all right. She enjoyed challenges. And she was looking forward to mothering a daughter. Cheyenne clearly needed her.

They talked about other things, as well. Their childhoods, their families. He knew she had been the only child of a career military man, stopping nowhere long enough to gather moss. In contrast, he told her, he had moss all over him. He talked about his parents and she learned his father was dead and his mother lived in Florida now with a second husband. He told her about his twin sister and brother and all the scrapes they’d gotten into as kids. He told her, too, about the accident that had taken his sister’s life, and the misunderstandings and hard feelings that had resulted from it and which only recently had been resolved.

But she still didn’t tell him about Bobby.

She didn’t know why she was hesitating. After all, he already had a child so she knew he must like kids.

But this one isn’t his, whispered an insidious little voice inside her.

She dismissed the unworthy thought immediately. Marty was a kind man, a gentle man. A wonderful man. He needed to know he was going to be a stepfather. But still…

Wednesday night was New Year’s Eve. She hadn’t made any plans, and Marty hadn’t, either. He called at ten, and they were still on the phone at midnight when the new year came in.

“Next year this time, we’ll be celebrating our one-year anniversary,” he said.

She hoped so. But she really had to tell him about Bobby. But…Inky, her black Pomeranian, lay curled against her side as she lay on her bed talking to Marty. She had yet to tell him about the dog, either. Maybe she should start small and work up to the child.

“Um, Marty?” She worked the words in between a long stream of information about weather patterns on the prairie. “I have something I need to tell you.”

“And what would that be?” His voice was indulgent.

“I have a dog.” She held her breath, waiting for a reaction, her pulse racing and her heart pounding all out of proportion to the simple statement.

“You do?” He sounded a little taken aback. “I didn’t know you were allowed to have dogs in apartments.”

“This place allows small animals.” Her tension began to dissipate.

“Well, I guess it won’t be a problem. He can hang out with the other dogs around here. How old is he? Maybe I can train him to work stock.” His voice was beginning to warm.

She laughed uncertainly. “I don’t think so. He’s um, probably a bit too small for that.”

Now his voice sounded cautious. “Exactly how small is too small?”

She took a deep breath. “Eight pounds. He’s a Pomeranian. Eight pounds is a very sturdy size for a Pom.”

“Eight pounds?” His voice was incredulous. “Good grief. The other dogs’ll think he’s a meal. He’ll make the horses nervous and then they’re liable to step on him. No—” his voice was decisive “—that’s too small. You’ll have to find a home for him in town where he can be somebody’s pet.”

“But…but I can’t just give him away!” Her voice began to quaver despite her best efforts to stay calm. Give Inky away? He’d been her best friend all during her pregnancy and the sad days after Rob’s death. Marty didn’t understand. He’d been so…so dismissive. “He was a wedding gift from my husband.”

Dead silence was the only response from the other end of the phone.

Gathering her resolve, she began to list Inky’s attributes. “Besides, he’s not an outside dog, anyway. He stays indoors. He rarely barks and he’s even paper trained if I can’t take him out. He’s big enough to go up and down the steps and jump on and off the furniture without help—”

“You let him get up on the furniture?” If he could sound more shocked, she couldn’t imagine it. “We’ve never let our dogs in the house. They sleep in the barn when it’s cold.” His voice was adamant. “You can’t have a dog in the house.”

Suddenly he didn’t sound like the warm and easy-going man she’d spent last Saturday night with, the man she’d been talking with just a few minutes ago. Tears welled up and she swallowed, hurt stinging her heart. He hadn’t even listened to her!

If he were like this about Inky, how would he react when she told him about Bobby? The idea was daunting. Maybe this whole notion of marriage was ridiculous. She wanted to marry him, wanted it badly, but maybe—

“Juliette?” His voice was so hushed she nearly didn’t hear him for the thoughts clanging around in her head.

Finally she realized he’d spoken her name aloud. “Yes?” The tears overflowed and made cold tracks down her cheek. She placed a hand on Inky’s tiny head, gently massaging behind his ears, and he heaved a happy doggy sigh as he snuggled deeper against her.

“Are you crying?”

“No.” She gulped and tried to breathe evenly.

“Yes, you are.” His voice registered cautious concern. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t handle that very well. Can I have another try?”

He sounded endearingly humble, and she could imagine the look in his blue eyes, earnest and penitent. “Of course. I’m sorry, too.”

“I guess one little dog in the house isn’t such a big deal,” he said, and she could almost hear him trying to talk himself into the idea. “Just because I’ve never kept a dog in the house doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing. I know lots of people who do.”

She had to chuckle despite herself. “Oh, Marty, maybe getting married without knowing each other better isn’t such a good idea after all. I mean, what if—”

But he didn’t let her finish. “Hey, sweet thing, one little almost-disagreement doesn’t mean we should give up. Don’t get yourself all worked up about this, okay?”

“I’m not. Not really. But—”

“But you’re still marrying me on Friday,” he pressed.

When she didn’t respond immediately, his voice lowered, going warm and intimate. “Angel, we’re going to be good together. In a lot of ways. I can’t wait for Friday to get here so I can hold you again.”

“I can’t wait, either.” And she couldn’t. She needed Marty’s arms around her, his kisses that made her forget about all her worries.

It wasn’t until she hung up that she remembered she still needed to tell him about Bobby. But…he’d had an awfully strong reaction to the dog. What if he decided he didn’t want to marry her?

Her stomach trembled. She wasn’t sure marrying so quickly was wise, but she was sure of one thing. She loved Marty Stryker. Against all common sense, she’d given her heart to a man she barely knew, and if he walked away she’d never be able to forget him. If she told him about Bobby, she risked driving him away.

On the other hand, she reminded herself with forced cheer, the odds were at least as good that he’d be thrilled to have a baby boy to raise. Why shouldn’t he? She fell into a troubled sleep still undecided about what to tell Marty about her son. And when to tell him.

Despite the nightly phone marathons, the week seemed to last forever. Juliette’s hours at work moved like cold molasses, though her schedule remained unchanged. At home she packed her things into boxes to go with her out to the ranch and separated her few things from the furnishings that had come with the apartment. She gave notice and apologized to her boss for the short time frame. She decided that Friday would never arrive, but finally it was Friday morning. She worked her last few hours and then went home to wait. Marty would be arriving in another hour.