Chapter Three
Della woke up and slowly opened her eyes to find herself snuggled up against Nate’s back. Her arm was around his waist and she was basically spooning him. So much for staying on her own side of the bed. When they’d returned to the hotel, she’d pretended she was supertired and he hadn’t pressed her for anything. She’d been torn between disappointment and relief that he hadn’t asked for more because part of her knew that if he did kiss her again, she wouldn’t hesitate to kiss him back.
Not that she hadn’t lain awake for at least an hour imagining that kiss . . .
She sighed and contemplated the creases in his white T-shirt. It was three o’clock in the morning. From what she could tell, he was sound asleep, so she could probably just ease backward and he’d never know she’d been wrapped around him like a limpet.
The trouble was, he smelled so good that she didn’t want to move. And being this close to him felt right even though he was a cop who could bust her ass in a heartbeat. She was exaggerating, but her guilt wouldn’t leave her alone.
“You okay?”
She jumped at his quiet question.
“Yup. I was just wondering how I ended up wrapped around you and how to extricate myself.”
He chuckled, the sound low in his throat. “Stay put if you like. I’m not complaining. It’s been a while since I’ve snuggled up to anything except my dog, Birdy.”
“Your dog sleeps on your bed?”
“Hard to keep him off when he weighs over a hundred pounds and thinks he’s still a puppy.”
Della smiled against his back as the air-conditioning whirred and the faint sounds of night creatures permeated the thick glass of the balcony door.
“You don’t date much, then?”
“Nope. Too busy. I cover Morgantown and a lot of the county around it, so I’m always on the move. I share the job with another deputy in Bridgeport, but because I live on-site and everyone knows me, I kind of get all the calls regardless of whether I’m on duty or not.”
“That must be tough.” Della really didn’t want to get into a conversation about what he did. “I’m in the same boat—too busy to seriously date anyone.”
He eased onto his back and she stayed on her side. It was dark enough that she couldn’t see his face clearly, which was kind of comforting. He slid one hand behind his neck and the other arm around her shoulders, drawing her close.
“Is that okay?”
“I’ll let you know if I get a crick in my neck.” Della resisted the temptation to climb all over him but allowed her free hand to skim over his chest.
“Did you have a good time at the dinner?” Nate asked, his fingers rubbing small circles on her shoulder.
“Yes, thank you. I can’t believe I met Travis Whitley and saw that pompous reporter guy trying to make the wedding all about him. I don’t think Meg was happy about him being there.”
“Yeah, dinner and a show. Way more exciting out here than in California.”
“Do you really think Travis meant his invitation for us to visit him in Nashville?”
He sighed. “Probably not. From what he told me when you were in the bathroom, he’s basically never there. Not a life I’d want, although he did make me feel like a boring homebody who’s never done anything.”
“Hey, you went to college in Texas. That was brave.”
“And you moved all the way to California.”
It was Della’s turn to sigh. “I just wanted to get away. It was kind of selfish. My mom still hasn’t forgiven me.”
“Sometimes we have to do stuff to become the person we’re meant to be, and sometimes it’s hard to do that when you’re stuck in a place where everyone thinks they know you.” He hesitated. “My dad had this dream of owning his own ranch and expected me to come back from college with all the most up-to-date information to make it happen. But I soon realized I didn’t want to be a rancher. Telling him that, and watching the dream fade from his eyes as he struggled to accept my choices, was one of the lowest points in my life.”
Now she wanted to hold him and make everything better . . . she was so screwed.
“My mom wanted me to settle down, get married, and have babies like my sister did.”
“Your mom sounds a lot like mine. She and my dad have the best marriage ever, but it’s not easy to find the right person and I refuse to settle.”
She patted his chest. “Why should you? You’re young, good-looking, and have a steady job. I bet women swarm all over you every time you leave the house.”
“Thanks for the encouragement, but the only woman I’ve met recently who I’d like to get to know seems to have a problem with cops.”
Della stayed quiet for at least a minute before daring to reply. “Are you talking about me?”
“You’re the only woman I’m currently sharing a bed with.”
“But that was just for our mutual convenience.”
He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “It’s okay, Della. I’m sticking to our agreement. I’m not suddenly going to pounce on you.”
Not being able to see his face clearly gave her a courage she normally lacked. “Not even if I was okay with it?”
He tilted his head up toward the ceiling as if seeking divine inspiration. “I’d still feel like I was taking advantage of you.”
“But aren’t you the one-night stand king?”
He groaned. “One date. Not one sleepover.”
“So you’ve never had sex?”
“I didn’t quite say that, but I certainly haven’t racked up high numbers.”
Della tried not to smile at his indignant tone. “Like, how high?”
Suddenly he shifted his weight, picked her up, and dumped her on his lap on top of the covers. Now she had to look at him and was relieved to see he was grinning at her.
“Two?” Nate said.
She held out her hand, palm up. “Snap.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Man, those guys in San Jose must be slow and blind.”
“Or I’m like you and just have high standards.”
“I wouldn’t have expected anything less.” He cleared his throat. “I really want to kiss you.”
Leaning in, she brushed her lips against his. “Then do it.”
* * *
Nate took full advantage of her permission, coaxing her into opening her mouth and settling in for a slow exploration that made her grab hold of his shoulder and thread her fingers through his hair.
Yeah . . .
The One.
This was definitely the best kiss ever.
She shifted even closer, the tips of her breasts brushing up against his T-shirt, making him shudder with the need to uncover more, to claim more, to take. His fingers slid up her spine beneath her shirt to touch bare skin. He rocked his hips, drawing her even tighter against him, his palm pressed to her lower back.
It was way outside his normal experience, and some grain of sense, some hard-won caution from years of police work made him reluctantly ease back. She didn’t like cops. She was hiding something from him.
Even as he thought that, he imagined his father’s horrified expression—that a Turner would put anything ahead of discovering and keeping The One woman for him. But his cautious nature had saved his life more than once, and he had to be certain.
“Nate?”
He gathered his scattered senses and met her gaze head-on. “I’m sorry. That kiss went way too far.”
She blinked at him. “For you or for me?”
“Probably for both of us.”
He still couldn’t quite bear to release her, but she settled that problem by moving off his lap, making him wince as her knee connected with his groin. Resisting the urge to whimper or drag her back and settle some things, he took an unsteady breath.
“Della, we just met and—”
She folded her arms over her luscious breasts. “So you think I’m being too forward?”
“No!” Now she looked hurt and he wanted to slap himself silly. “I think we should slow down, get to know each other over the next couple of days, and take it from there.”
“Fine.”
He wasn’t dumb. He knew that when a woman said fine, things rarely were. “I like you a lot.”
“So you keep saying.” She studied him for a long moment and then released a slow breath. “But you’re right. Give me two days.”
“To do what?”
Guilt flashed in her eyes and he tensed. “To get to know you, of course. What else?” She crawled back over to her side of the bed. “’Night, Nate.”
He lay back down on his side and stared into the darkness. Why did he still have a sense that she was up to something? And if she was—what the heck was he going to do about it?
* * *
After a decent breakfast at the hotel and with several hours to spare before the actual wedding, Della checked her cell for messages and then turned to Nate, who sat beside her in the booth.
“Do you still want to go look for a new hat?”
He put down his coffee cup and smoothed a hand over his unshaven chin. To her secret relief, he’d been his usual charming self all morning, hadn’t once referred to their smoldering kiss of the night before.
“Yeah. I want to look good at the wedding. Do you know a place?”
“As I said, this is Texas, land of the cowboy hat. We could try Cavender’s, for a start.” She hesitated, unsure of how he felt about hanging out with her. “I can drive you there or give you directions.”
He reached for her hand. “I’d love for you to come with me. Perhaps we can work on your aversion to cops on the way.”
“What aversion?”
He didn’t reply, turning his attention to signing the check.
Della touched his shoulder. “Let me know how much I owe you for the food and the room, okay?”
He looked up. “Hey, you’re the one doing me a favor. I don’t expect you to pay for anything.”
“I’d like to pay.” Then maybe she wouldn’t feel so guilty. “If you hadn’t offered to share your space, I would’ve slept in my car for three days.”
“I’ve got this. You can pay for lunch, okay?”
He slid the signed receipt under his coffee cup and stood up, stretching the kinks out of his spine and making her all too aware of his lean, muscular physique.
“I probably need to shave.”
She couldn’t resist cupping his chin. “I kind of like it. You look like an old-time sheriff now.”
“You like that idea?” His smile flashed. “You should come to our Historic Morgantown Day, when we all dress up like our forebears and parade around town.”
“I think I’d enjoy seeing you swaggering around with your gun belt hanging low and your battered gold star on your leather vest. Do you have a mustache as well?”
“Nope, that’s reserved for the villain—usually played by one of the Morgan brothers, the wildest guys in town.” He took her hand again. “You really should come. I’d love to see you again.”
Della thought about that as they walked back up to the room to retrieve their stuff. If she could get the pictures of Travis without anyone noticing, turn them over to Wade, and move on, why shouldn’t she go see Nate Turner in his natural element, chasing down the bad guys? The idea appealed to her more strongly than she’d anticipated. Maybe it was fate.
Her sense of anticipation faded. What if the situation at home got even worse than it was now and she had to come back for good? Her mom had already made some pointed comments about her lack of loyalty to her sister. But if she didn’t earn money, she wouldn’t be able to send so much of it home to support her family. Unfortunately, her little niece Perry needed every penny she sent home more than ever now. And what about her sister’s rat of a husband, who’d disappeared the moment things got difficult? No one seemed to be chasing after him. Just because she was the older sibling, was she doomed to be responsible for everyone forever?
Even thinking like that made her feel ashamed. They needed her. She hated what she had to do and already knew that all the money in the world might not fix her family’s problems. But she had to try.
* * *
By the time Nate had acquired two new hats and a pair of boots, Della had to rush back to the hotel to get ready for the wedding at three. He was no closer to discovering what in particular she didn’t like about his profession and even more certain that despite everything, she was the closest to The One he’d ever met or was likely to meet again. His romantic self remained at war with his cop self, his certainty that she was a good person at odds with his sense of something not sitting quite right.
It was both magical and infuriating.
He knew his dad and younger brother would be yelling at him to just tell her how he felt and take it from there, but he couldn’t do it. He checked his cell. There was nothing from his sister or the rest of his community, which made a nice change. He loved them all dearly, but sometimes he yearned for some space.
Moving Della’s discarded T-shirt to one side, he noticed she’d been doodling on the hotel notepaper by the phone. Well, not really doodling but writing Travis’s name and underlining it about fifty times with a ton of question marks. Nate frowned. For someone who claimed not to like the man, she sure spent a lot of time thinking about him. At least she hadn’t written Della Whitley in a heart . . .
He buttoned the pearl snaps on his newly ironed blue shirt and put on his best jeans. His grandfather’s cuff links made from Morgansville gold and his father’s rodeo buckle on his belt added a familiar touch to his new clothes. He’d thought about wearing his fancy new Lucchese boots but figured with all the standing and sitting at the wedding he’d do better to rely on his now second-best pair.
Checking his watch, he knocked on the bathroom door. “You doing okay in there, Della?”
“I’m just coming out now.”
The door opened and she emerged in a rush of warm air and a subtle flowery fragrance. He barely managed to keep his mouth closed as he stared at her, doubts forgotten. She wore a red dress with white roses on the skirt and real roses in her hair, which was gathered up into a fancy topknot on her head. A couple of curls brushed her cheeks when she moved. She looked good enough to eat. His gaze dropped to her impossibly high-heeled shoes and he growled deep in his throat.
She blinked at him. “Do I look okay?”
She sounded anxious, her hands smoothing her skirt, which covered a net petticoat that made her dress kick out even more.
He took her hand and kissed it. “You look beautiful. Like a summer rose garden.”
“You look pretty good yourself.” Her appreciative gaze swept over him. “Are you going to wear your new hat?”
“Damn straight I am.” He reverently lifted it from its box and set it on his head.
Della sighed and clasped her hands to her chest. “Oh my. You look like you stepped off the cover of a romance novel.”
Nate snorted. “I’ve seen those books. My sister loves them, but for some reason those guys never keep their shirts on.”
She gathered her wrap, large purse, and sunglasses as he located his sports jacket. Since the tornado had blown through, the good weather was supposed to hold up, but you never knew in Texas. He opened the door with a flourish and bowed her through it.
“Ma’am.”
The glance she gave him over her shoulder as she sashayed past made him feel hot and cold all over. Maybe his dad was right and he should just blurt it out—tell her that she was The One . . .
Even as he formed the thought, she was walking away from him, her gaze fixed on her cell phone. Nate let out his breath. They had all afternoon to spend together at a wedding; there was plenty of time to declare himself, if that’s what he decided to do.
* * *
Della sighed with pleasure as they were escorted into the tiny wedding chapel at the Hawk Creek Ranch. Nate had told her it no longer served a real congregation but was available for special weddings. Meg Stoddard, whom she’d gone to school with, was Brady Cutwright’s best woman and the Stoddard family owned the land, making it the perfect place for the celebration.
A long white carpet had been laid from the back of the chapel to the front and a country band off to one side played something soothing. There was no sign of Travis Whitley yet. Nate carefully took off his hat and placed it on the bench behind him as Brady and Meg walked up the aisle to await the bride.
Nate leaned down to whisper in her ear, “Brady looks calm enough.”
“Did you think he’d bolt like a wild horse?”
“Nope. He loves that woman. I could see it in his eyes.”
Della wondered what it would feel like to be loved that way—to have a man who put you first, loved you to distraction, and respected the heck out of you. Maybe a man like Nate Turner.
The music changed and the packed congregation stood as the bride, accompanied by her man of honor, Air Force Major Shane Freemont in full-dress uniform, walked down the aisle. Ellie wore a white chiffon dress with cowboy boots and a hat with a veil that made Della smile. The expression on Ellie’s face as she reached Brady brought a lump to Della’s throat and she fumbled for her handkerchief.
Nate took her hand and gave her his handkerchief. “You’re a crier? I should have guessed.”
She dabbed at the corner of her eyes with the starched cotton. “Don’t say anything. You’ll just make me worse. I have to get through this.”
He chuckled and brought her hand to his mouth for a kiss. “You’ll be fine. Concentrate.”
It was hard to concentrate with him standing beside her, holding her hand and rubbing little circles on her skin. She turned her attention to the vows being exchanged by the couple and almost lost it again. This was what love meant. This was what she wanted.
It didn’t take long for the service to end, and the happy couple progressed down the aisle grinning from ear to ear. Everyone followed them out for the pictures, which seemed to take forever. Still feeling guilty about gatecrashing the wedding, Della tried to avoid being in the group pictures, but Nate kept a firm hold of her hand and coaxed her into joining him. The only other person who was as reluctant to be photographed as she was Travis, which made her feel terrible about surreptitiously snapping pictures of him every chance she got.
Just as they’d left the hotel, Wade had sent her a text saying he could get double the money if she scored a photo of Travis drunk or misbehaving, which had made her feel physically sick.
The wedding reception was being held in the same converted barn as the rehearsal dinner except there were twice as many people, which made the place much louder. She spied Travis sitting in the quietest corner of the room, his hat low down, shielding his face. She almost wished he hadn’t come so she could just tell her stinking boss what to do with his assignment and his threats—except she couldn’t do that with her sister depending on her.
Nate went off to congratulate the groom, leaving Della free to ease toward Travis, her cell phone at the ready. She’d taken a million pictures of him already, but none of them were great. If he would just look up, she could get some decent shots of his face and hope they would be good enough for Wade. Travis certainly hadn’t brought a woman with him, gotten drunk, or misbehaved. Hopefully when she gave Wade the pictures, he’d stop threatening her and then not use them after all.
She had time to take a few shots before realizing the light probably wasn’t good enough. If she came in from the other side, she could use her proper camera . . .
“You okay?”
She jumped as Nate came up behind her, two glasses of champagne in his hands.
“Yes. I was just thinking about taking some pictures.” She patted her purse. “I brought my digital camera with me just in case. It’s so beautiful in this part of Texas.”
He handed her the glass of champagne, his gaze sweeping the area and the distinct lack of wedding guests.
“I bet Ellie and Brady would love more pictures to choose from. Brides and grooms can’t seem to get enough of them these days. The last wedding I went to they even had those disposable digital cameras on each guest’s plate.”
She sipped at her champagne, her throat suddenly dry. “Did you work out where we’re sitting?”
He nodded to where Travis was already seated. “Over there, at the back with a group of Brady’s old college friends, including the obnoxious Steve, I’m afraid.”
“We’ll just ignore him and talk to Travis.” Della pocketed her phone and took Nate’s arm. “We might as well go sit down. I think Meg’s about to call us all to order anyway.”
* * *
The food was good, but Nate hardly tasted it. He wasn’t stupid and by his count, the only pictures Della had been taking for the past two days were of Travis. Sure, she was trying to be subtle about it, but he wasn’t fooled. But why was she so interested in the country-western star? She’d insisted he wasn’t her type, so why all the pictures?
When she left the table to powder her nose, she left her phone behind but took her purse. She was away long enough for Nate to start to get worried, but just then Travis spoke up.
“Nate, have you ever thought about going into private security?”
“In what way?”
Travis smiled. “As in head of my security team. I bet I could pay you a lot more than you’re making now.”
“I bet you could, but I love my job, and you probably need someone with way more experience than me.”
“True, but he still wouldn’t be a friend. This is the first time I’ve been out of my house without being pursued for almost a year. It’s awesome.” A muscle twitched in Travis’s cheek. “I’ve had security teams that have taken payment to let women into my house, called select paparazzi when I’m at the dentist, and generally screwed with my life.”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
“Hell, I know. That’s why I’m asking you.” Travis hesitated, leaning in closer. “It’s crushing me, this business. It’s taken away all the joy I had from performing, and made me a prisoner in my own house.”
“I’m sorry that’s happening to you, but I still don’t want the job.”
“I’ll pay you half a million bucks a year.”
For a second Nate forgot how to breathe. “You’re kidding, right?”
Travis winked as he stood up. “Nope. Think about it, okay?”
Holy cow . . . Nate stared down at his cell, his fingers sliding across the screen even as he realized he still held Della’s phone and that he was flipping through endless pictures of a totally unaware Travis Whitley. Hundreds of pictures . . .
He put the cell in his pocket and headed out to find Della, his good mood rapidly deteriorating as he found her snapping away at the interior of the barn with her digital camera.
Her warm smile stopped him in his tracks.
“I’m sorry, Nate. I got distracted. Were you worried about me?”
He tried to compare her apparently genuine pleasure at seeing him with what he’d seen on her phone. When he didn’t reply, she put her camera away, her smile disappearing.
“Are you okay?”
He held out her cell. “You left this on the table.”
“Oh, thanks, I meant to put it in my purse and forgot.” She held out her hand but he didn’t turn it over. “What’s up?”
“Why all the pictures of Travis?”
She went still, the color rushing into her cheeks. “What?”
“I didn’t mean to pry, but you must have taken hundreds of snaps of him and only one of the bride and groom.”
She snatched the phone from his grasp. “Why wouldn’t I want to take his picture? He’s famous.”
“And he asked to be left alone at this private, family wedding.” He considered her carefully. “What’s going on, Della?”
Her chin came up and she looked him right in the eye. “Maybe I’m just a . . . a little obsessed with him, okay?”
“Like you’re a professional stalker?” He thought of the way she’d written Travis’s name again and again on the notepad and her initial reluctance to meet the star. Nothing added up and he hated that.
“Yeah, why not? Everyone needs a hobby.” She waved her arms around. “I can’t help myself. He just does something to me that makes me want to hang around him all the time, read every scrap of information I can find about him on the internet, and one day, if God is willing, marry the man!”
Nate let out a slow breath. She was either being sarcastic or was totally off-the-charts nuts. “Is that why you agreed to spend time with me? Just to get close to Travis?”
“Yes! No! That’s—” She bit down hard on her lip. “Dammit! Why did you have to put it like that?”
“Because I thought you liked me. I thought—” He shoved a hand into his pocket and took a step back, his heart banging in his chest. “But it’s all good. Maybe if you ask him nicely, Travis will give you his room number and you won’t have to waste your time shacking up with me. Hey, maybe I’ll go ask him for you. How’s that sound?”
He turned his back on her.
“Nate, I don’t want to spend time with Travis. I—”
But he was beyond listening. Sometimes it really paid to ignore his softer side and focus on the reality of a situation. At least he’d learned to do that. The fact that it still hurt made no difference. He’d survive. He’d toughen up until one day the stupid Turner tradition that there was a perfect woman out there just waiting for him would die a natural death and he’d move on. Willing himself not to weaken, he headed for the bar and ordered a beer. The wedding went on around him, but he pretended not to care.