The Cowboy's Wife For One Night

But her body...oh, man.

Growing up, he’d thrown a lot of punches against the mouths of boys who’d been too vocal in their admiration for her young body. And he’d gotten used to not looking at her below the chin, out of respect. Friendship. Because he knew how much her curves bothered her. Embarrassed her.

She didn’t seem embarrassed now.

The black dress skimmed her breasts, revealing the pillowy tops, the perfect round contours. A mysterious, shadowy valley divided them and he knew, as awkward as she might look in that dress, not a single man was going to notice her discomfort.

Because all they would see was her beauty.

“I’m going to have to punch out a lot of guys tonight,” he murmured and she smiled.

“I doubt that.” She ran her hands down the simple dress. “It’s wrinkled.”

“Putting it in a duffle bag will do that to a dress,” he said.

“Oh, and suddenly you’re Mr. Fashion?” She narrowed her eyes, the years melting away under their teasing. “That’s not even your suit, is it?”

“Of course it is,” he said, running his hands over the too-big jacket. “I’ve just lost some weight.”

Mia stepped forward and pulled the loose tie from where he’d stuffed it in his jacket pocket. She flipped up the stiff edges of his collar and settled the tie around his neck. He lifted his chin, standing willing under her ministrations. She’d tied his tie on his prom night for his date with Missy Manning, and on his graduation from high school and college. The day they got married.

The day of their wedding had been the only time in his life that he’d actually felt like a husband.

She was close. So close he could see the freckles across her nose, the small scars along her chin where she’d fallen into the barbed wire when they were kids.

Her lips...

He blinked and looked back up at the ceiling.

What a marriage, he thought. The only husband who’d never had a wedding night.

Sometimes he got the impression that she wanted something physical between them. She’d watch him a little too long, her eyes dilating, her breath hitching—principal signs of animal attraction.

But he’d told himself since he was twenty years old and she’d been fifteen that nothing would ever happen between them unless she started it.

And she never had.

“Well…” She sighed, patting his tie. “It’s a little crooked, but no one will notice.”

“It’s great, Mia,” he said through the tension in his throat. “Thank you.”

“We’re a fine pair,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “Let’s go cause a scandal.”

And, just like that, this night, this torturous night that he’d been dreading with every fiber of his being, turned into fun. An adventure.

He offered her his elbow, and her hand, small but so strong, slipped up next to his ribs and then around his arm. He felt the pressure of her fingers, the weight of her palm, through his skin and down into the muscle.

“Let’s go,” he murmured and opened the door to the night.

They crossed the moonlit path from their cabana suite to the glittering main building of the fancy hotel. A crowded patio surrounded by bougainvillea jutted out over the cliffs, overlooking the ocean. She stopped, staring off over the water, the oil drills in the distance, the Channel Islands like fat coins sitting on the horizon.

“The islands are so pretty,” she said.

“They call them the North American Galapagos,” he said. “Because there are over 150 endemic species of plants alone—”

“You don’t say, professor,” she said, her voice thick with sarcasm.

“Sorry.” He ran a hand over his forehead. “I’m—”

“Nervous?” she asked, and he turned to face her. She was luminous in the moonlight. If only they could stay out here all night.

“I hate these things,” he said.

“You do suck at them.”

His laugh cleared the adrenaline churning through his stomach. He sighed and they stood in silence, staring at the islands. The blinking lights of the oil drills.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said, and suddenly Mia pulled her hand away from his elbow, creating distance where he didn’t really want any.

“We need to talk,” she said. He hung his head.

“Not Dad again, Mia—”

“I think it’s time for a divorce.”

He blinked, his mouth suddenly dry. The apprehension exploded in his stomach again, darker, uglier. “Us?”

Her smile was slight, her eyes unreadable. “Yes, us.”

“Why?”

She sighed, her breath fanning his cheek. She smelled like toothpaste.

“Is there…someone else?” he asked. He hadn’t thought of it, not really. There wasn’t any time in his life for him to find anyone else and it had just never occurred to him that she would be looking for someone.

“Someone else?” She laughed. “Someone besides my childhood friend who married me as a favor and I’ve seen all of five times in the five years we’ve been married?”

He couldn’t read her anger. Did she want more? Then why the divorce?