Wyoming Rugged. Diana Palmer
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“I minored in anthropology, back in the Dark Ages,” he said with cold humor.
She stopped just inside the gift shop and looked up at him. Niki’s slight figure was dwarfed by his height. The top of her head barely came to his nose. He was broad, like a wrestler. He moved with sensuous grace, and she remembered with some embarrassment how he looked without his shirt. She’d wanted so badly to touch him there, when he’d been sick and she’d nursed him.
He reached out and drew his thumb softly over her lips, parting them. Her reaction was arousing. He knew without asking that she was attracted to him. No woman could fake these signs, and they were blatant. His face hardened. He couldn’t afford to indulge her hunger. She was very young, just feeling her power as a woman, and she was innocent. He couldn’t take advantage of something she couldn’t even help. Worse, those years between them were like a stone wall.
He dropped his hand as if her mouth had burned it and turned away. “Let’s have coffee.”
He didn’t say another word until he was halfway through with his coffee.
“You’re brooding again,” she accused.
He looked up, both eyebrows arching.
She made a face. “We can go back now, if you want to. I don’t want to make you wait for the eruption of Old Faithful. I imagine you’ve got things to do.”
“I don’t mind waiting,” he replied. His narrowed eyes were on her face. “I’ve never seen it go off, either.”
Something in the hardness of his face made her curious. “You’ve been here before, haven’t you, Blair?” she asked softly.
His jaw hardened. “I spent my wedding night here.”
She caught her breath and looked guilty. “Oh, darn, I’m sorry!”
“You didn’t know.” He looked away. “It was my idea to come, anyway, not yours.”
That made it worse, somehow. He was reliving a failed marriage. Niki hadn’t known about the connection to Yellowstone. Impulsively, she slid her small hand over his.
“You’re always saying that I’ve let a bad experience lock me up in the past. Aren’t you doing that, too, Blair?” she asked quietly.
His eyes were troubled. He felt the coldness of her hand. He turned it, locking it with his own. “I had great expectations.”
“Did you?”
“She was beautiful, cultured, experienced,” he said, smiling wryly. “She said she loved me. I married her and brought her here—” he looked around them “—to let her prove it.”
She waited, just watching him, curious.
He laughed coldly. “She smiled. All the way through it. The whole time.”
Her lips turned up. “She enjoyed it. Why should that make you unhappy?”
He stared at her. Gaped at her. She had no clue what he was talking about. He swallowed, and averted his eyes. “Drink your coffee. We can look around the gift shop until it’s time to go.”
He’d let go of her hand. She didn’t understand why he was so disturbed. Perhaps it was one of those male things, a broodiness that women didn’t understand. She finished her coffee, waited while he paid the check then followed him out into the huge gift shop.
* * *
SHE FOUND A bracelet she loved, rawhide with a small round piece of deer’s horn attached.
“They have silver and turquoise,” he reminded her, puzzled by her delight with the simple, very inexpensive trinket.
“I like this. It’s elemental, isn’t it?” she added. “A piece of life itself.”
She was a constant puzzle to him. Her father was well-to-do, but nowhere near as wealthy as Blair was. She could have picked the most expensive thing in the store, and he’d have bought it for her. She had to know that. But she was like a child in her desires; she liked the simple things. He remembered his wife and her greed, the way she searched out the most expensive diamonds she could find in a jewelry shop and begged for them when he was dating her. She’d found a very expensive set of turquoise jewelry here, in fact, and demanded that Blair buy it for her. He’d been so smitten that day, just after they were married, that he’d have bought her the entire inventory. Then he’d taken her to bed, and all his dreams had died...
“You’re doing it again,” she said when they were walking out toward Old Faithful.
“Doing what?” he asked abruptly.
“Brooding.”
He stopped and turned toward her. “You don’t really like expensive things, do you?” he asked bluntly.
She blinked. “Well, I’m partial to emeralds and pearls,” she said. “But my jewelry box is full of them. And I really love this bracelet.” She was puzzled.
“My wife picked up a squash blossom necklace, earrings and bracelet set here,” he said, referring to the highly expensive pieces of Native American jewelry, silver and turquoise, that had been in the display case, probably from a Navajo artist even though it was a Wyoming shop. “And had me buy it for her.”
She searched his black eyes quietly. “You loved her very much, didn’t you?” she asked softly.
His face hardened. “Yes. At first.”
“I’m so sorry that it didn’t work out for you.”
He was scowling. His hands, in his pockets, were clenched. He hated the memories, especially how it had been here, in this hotel, with his wife that first night. He hated the humiliation, the crushing blow to his pride, his manhood. He hated how it had locked him up inside himself.
“You have no idea, do you? About life?” he wondered aloud. His face hardened as he looked down at her. “You’re still in patent leather shoes and frilly little dresses, gathering Easter eggs in the park.”
Her eyes widened. “Excuse me?”
He turned away. “It’s going off.”
She followed him to the geyser, adrift. She didn’t understand what he was saying, what it meant. He was sad. She wondered why.
Then she remembered what he’d said about his wife. Why did it make him angry that she’d smiled at him? For heaven’s sake, didn’t he want her to enjoy what happened between them on their wedding night? Men were so odd.
She put it to the back of her mind as the wind blew the spray from the geyser into her face, and she laughed like a delighted child.
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