A Wife for a Westmoreland / Claiming His Royal Heir: A Wife for a Westmoreland. Brenda Jackson
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shook his head as he eased back in the chair. He’d done nothing over the past few days but stay on his pain medication and get plenty of sleep. Each time he awoke he would reach under his pillow and pull out the panties he had placed there just to make sure he hadn’t dreamed the whole thing. They proved that he hadn’t. And the name Puddin’ Tame, the alias the woman had given him, kept going through his mind.
This morning he woke feeling a whole lot better and decided to lay off the pills. He hoped clearing his head would trigger something in his memory about what happened a week ago. So far it hadn’t.
Jason had dropped by to check on him and the two were sharing early-morning coffee at the kitchen table. “No, it’s not a trick question. I figured I’d ask you first before moving on to Riley, Zane, Canyon and Stern. Afterward, I’ll compare everybody’s answers.”
Jason inclined his head with the barest hint of a nod. “Okay, I’ll give your question a shot, so go ahead and repeat it to make sure I heard you right.”
Derringer rolled his eyes and then leaned closer to the table. His expression was serious. “What can you tell about a woman from the panties she wears, both style and color?”
Jason rubbed his chin a moment. “I would have to say nothing in particular unless they are white, granny-style ones.”
“They aren’t.” He hadn’t told Jason why he was asking, and Jason, the easygoing Westmoreland, wouldn’t ask … There was no doubt in Derringer’s mind that everyone else would.
“Then I really don’t know,” Jason said, taking a sip of his coffee. “I think some pieces of clothing are supposed to convey messages about people. I picked white because it usually means innocence. But then again, Fannie Nelson had on a pair of low-riding jeans one day that showed her white panties, and she is a long way from being innocent.”
“Aren’t you curious as to why I want to know?”
“Yes, I’m curious, but not enough to ask. I figure you have your reasons and I don’t want to come close to thinking what they might be.”
Derringer nodded, understanding why Jason felt that way. His cousin knew his history with women. And what Jason said was true. He had his reasons, all right.
“So what do you plan to do today now that you’ve returned to the world of the living? I heard the E.R. doc tell you to take it easy for at least a week or so to recuperate, so you’re still under restrictions,” Jason reminded him.
“Yes, but I’m not restricted from driving. I’m going to hang around here and take it easy for a few more days before venturing out anywhere.”
“I’m glad you’re following the doc’s advice. Although things could have been worse, that was still a nasty fall you took. And as far as your question regarding women’s undergarments, I suggest you talk to Zane when he gets back from Boulder.” Jason chuckled and then added, “And be prepared to take notes.”
Two days later Derringer left home for the first time since his accident and drove to Zane’s Hideout. He was glad to see his brother’s truck parked in the yard, which meant he was back. Jason was right. He should have been prepared to take notes. Zane, who was only fourteen months older but a heck of a lot wiser where women were concerned, had no qualms about telling him what he wanted to know.
According to Zane, the color and style of a woman’s panties said a lot about her. Sexually liberated women wore thongs or barely-there panties, all colors except white, and they rarely wore pastel colors. Most of them preferred black.
Zane further went on to say that women who liked to tease men wore black lace. Women who preferred lace to any other design were women who liked to look and feel pretty. And bikini panties weren’t as popular these days as thongs and hipsters, so a woman still wearing bikini panties weren’t as sexually liberated as others.
Derringer smiled when Zane, with a serious look on his face, advised him to steer clear of women who wore granny panties. Zane furthermore claimed that women who wore red panties gave the best blow jobs. Those with yellow panties the majority of the time weren’t afraid to try anything and were pretty good with a pair of handcuffs. Blue panties–wearing women were loyal to a fault—although they had a tendency to get possessive sometimes, and those who preferred wearing green were only after your money, so the use of double condoms was in order.
It had taken his brother almost an hour to make it to pink panties and, according to the Laws of Zane, women who wear pink panties were the ones you needed to stay away from because they had the word marriage written all over them, blasting like neon lights. They were a cross between innocent and a woman with an inner hunger for getting laid. But in the end she would still want a wedding ring on her finger.
“Okay, now that you’ve taken up more than an hour of my time, how about telling me why you’re so interested in a woman’s panties,” Zane said, eyeing him curiously.
For a moment Derringer considered not telling his brother anything, but then thought better of it. He, his five brothers and all his cousins were close, but there was a special bond between him, Zane and Jason. Besides, it was evident that Zane knew a lot more about women than he did, so maybe his brother could give him some sound advice about how to handle what had occurred that night, just in case he had been set up.
“Some woman came over to my place the night I was injured and let herself in. I can’t remember who she was, but I do remember making love to her.”
Zane stared at him intently for a moment. “Are you absolutely sure you made love to her and didn’t imagine the whole thing? When we took you home from the hospital—right before I had to take off for the airport—you were pretty high on those pain meds. Megan figured that you would probably sleep through most of the night, although she set out more medicine for you to take later.”
Derringer shook his head. “Yeah, I was pretty drugged up, but I remember making love to her, Zane. And to prove I didn’t dream the whole thing, I found her panties in bed with me the next morning.” What he decided not to say was that as far as he was concerned, it had been the best lovemaking he’d ever experienced with a woman.
Zane drew in a deep breath and then said on a heavy sigh. “You better hope it wasn’t Ashira. Hell, man, if you didn’t use a condom she would love to claim you’re her new baby’s daddy.”
Derringer rubbed the ache that had suddenly crept into his temples at the thought. “It wasn’t Ashira, trust me. This woman left one hell of an impression. I’ve never experienced lovemaking like it before. It was off the charts. Besides, Ashira called a few days after hearing about the accident. She left town to go visit her sick grandmother in Dakota the day before the accident and won’t be back for a few weeks.”
“You do know there’s a way for you to find out the identity of your uninvited visitor, don’t you?” Zane asked.
Derringer glanced over at him. “How?”
“Did you forget about the video cameras we had installed on your property to protect the horses, the week before your fall? Anyone pulling into your yard would be captured on film if they got as far as your front porch.”
Derringer blinked when he remembered the video camera and wondered why he hadn’t recalled it sooner. He got up from Zane’s table and swiftly strode to the door. “I need to get home and check out that tape,” he said without looking back.
“What happens when you find out who she is?” Zane called out.
He slowed to a stop and glanced over his shoulder. “Whoever she is, she will be sorry.” He then turned and continued walking.
He meant what he said. Thanks to Zane, the mystery might have been solved. But once Derringer discovered the woman’s identity, her nightmare for what she’d done would just be beginning, he thought, getting into his truck and driving away. He had a feeling his nightmare would continue until he found her—their night together had been so good, it haunted his dreams.
He