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135 pages, Kindle Edition
First published December 12, 1988
Of course, there was always the woman who could hit a man hard before he knew it. A woman like Nell Regan, with her unexpected vulnerabilities and compassion…
She deliberately downplayed the few attractions she had, as if she was determined not to do anything that would catch a man’s eye.
“Marguerite needs a husband.” He smiled at the thought of Marguerite.
She was, in fact, all the things Nell wasn’t. “But a dish like Margie shouldn’t have much trouble finding one.”
She and Nell got along fairly well, as long as neither of them looked back nine years. It had been Marguerite who’d helped put the scars on Nell’s young emotions. Nell had never been able to forget what had happened.
After her husband had died, Margie had taken her share of the ranch in cash and moved to the city.
“That’s why you’re dressed to the teeth and finding excuses to suffer the heat at the ranch. Because you miss Ted so much, and you want to console yourself with my hired help.”
"I haven’t done anything except refuse to be your doormat.” Nell finished her potatoes. “I don’t remember inviting you here,” she replied coolly. “Don’t expect me to entertain you or baby-sit for you.”
“I sure as hell don’t want a lovesick tomboy grabbing me by the boots every time I walk by. I don’t like being chased, even by attractive women. And Nell is a sweet child, but even a blind man couldn’t accuse her of being beautiful.”
It had been the first time in years that she’d made an effort to look like a woman. It would be the last, too, she vowed. She rolled over and closed her eyes. Minutes later, she was asleep.
She had the most beautiful, sensual eyes he’d ever seen.
“Open your mouth a little,” he whispered as his teeth closed gently on her lower lip.
he added venomously. “I don’t want another man’s castoff.”
“Most men get poetic when they’ve been without a woman for a few months,” he said with blunt insolence. “But you take things to heart, don’t you, Nell?”
“Sorry, honey, but my taste doesn’t run to tomboys,” he said mockingly.
“As for your offer, I don’t want to dance with you, now or ever. And you might as well throw that—” he indicated her dress “—in the trash if you bought it to catch my eye. I’m not interested in you.”
“He felt sorry for you!” Tyler burst out without choosing his words. “Doesn’t everybody?”