Paper Husband. Diana Palmer

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      She walked around the living room, her eyes on the sad, shabby furniture that she and her father had bought so many years ago. There hadn’t been any money in the past year for reupholstery or new frills. They’d put everything into those few head of beef cattle and the herd sire. But the cattle market was way down and if a bad winter came, there would be no way to afford to buy feed. She had to plant plenty of hay and corn to get through the winter. But their best hand had quit on her father’s death, and now all she had were two part-time helpers, whom she could barely afford to pay. A blind woman could see that she wouldn’t be able to keep going now.

      She could have wept for her lost chances. She had no education past high school, no real way to make a living. All she knew was how to pull calves and mix feed and sell off stock. She went to the auctions and knew how to bid, how to buy, how to pick cattle for conformation. She knew much less about horses, but that hardly mattered. She only had one left and the part-time man kept Bess—and Toast, until he was sold—groomed and fed and watered. She did at least know how to saddle the beast. But to Dana, a horse was a tool to use with cattle. Hayden cringed when she said that. He had purebred palominos and loved every one of them. He couldn’t understand anyone not loving horses as much as he did.

      Oddly, though, it was their only real point of contention. In most other ways, they agreed, even on politics and religion. And they liked the same television programs. She smiled, remembering how many times they’d shared similar enthusiasms for weekly series, especially science fiction ones.

      Hank had been kind to her father, too, and so patient when a man who’d given his life to being a country gentleman was suddenly faced with learning to be a rancher at the age of fifty-five. It made Dana sad to think how much longer her father’s life might have been if he’d taken up a less exhaustive profession. He’d had a good brain, and so much still to give.

      She fixed a light lunch and a pot of coffee and thought about going back out to see about that downed fence. But another disaster would just be too much. She was disaster-prone when Hank was anywhere near her, and she seemed to be rapidly getting that way even when he wasn’t. He’d rescued her from mad bulls, trapped feet in corral fences, once from a rattlesnake and twice from falling bales of hay. He must be wondering if there wasn’t some way he could be rid of her once and for all.

      It was nice of him not to mention those incidents when he’d rescued her from the fence, though. Surely he’d been tempted to.

      Tempted. She colored all over again remembering the intimacy they’d shared. In the seven years they’d known each other, he’d never touched her until today. She wondered why he had.

      The sound of a car outside on the country road brought her out of the kitchen and to the front door, just in time to see Hank’s black luxury car pull into the driveway. He wasn’t a flashy sort of man, and he didn’t go overboard to surround himself with luxurious things. That make of car was his one exception. He had a fascination for the big cars that never seemed to waver, because he traded his in every other year—for another black one.

      “Don’t you get tired of the color?” she’d asked him once.

      “Why?” he’d replied laconically. “Black goes with everything.”

      He came up onto the porch, and the expression on his face was one she hadn’t seen before. He looked as he always did, neatly dressed and clean-shaven, devastatingly handsome, but there was still a difference. After their brief interlude out in the pasture, the atmosphere between them was just a little strained.

      He had his hands in his pockets as he glanced down at her body in the pretty ruffled blue sundress.

      “Is that for my benefit?” he asked.

      She blushed. She usually kicked around in jeans or cutoffs and tank tops. She almost never wore dresses around the ranch. And her hair was long and loose around her shoulders instead of in its usual braid.

      She shrugged in defeat. “Yes, I guess it is,” she said, meeting his eyes with a rueful smile. “Sorry.”

      He shook his head. “There’s no need to apologize. None at all. In fact, what happened this afternoon gave me some ideas that I want to talk to you about.”

      Her heart jumped into her chest. Was he going to propose? Oh, glory, if only he would, and then he’d never even have to know about that silly clause in her father’s will!

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