Will And The Headstrong Female Part 11

Will slid into the seat beside her. He resisted the temptation to slip his arm around her. Progress was made in small steps, not huge leaps. The latter he left for his heart.

"Is that a tired sigh or a contented sigh?" he asked her.

She took a deep breath and let it out again before answering. No sense in letting him know just how happy she felt right now-although she had the uneasy suspicion that he already knew. Looking straight ahead of her, Denise said, "Both. I've been so busy trying to make ends meet, worrying about maintaining the crew and the equipment that I overlooked the real reason the carnival exists in the first place."

Will leaned forward to see her face. They'd taken in every ride twice and he'd plied her with pink cotton candy and hot dogs. "So you're having fun."

Denise could feel her mouth curving. She just couldn't help herself.

"Yes, I'm having fun." Her hair rained over her face as she leaned forward, tilting her head. She looked at him. "Isn't it obvious?"

He laughed softly. All around them, twilight was tiptoeing in like a reluctant adolescent, wanting to eke out just a few more minutes before curfew. Will gave in to temptation and slipped his arm around her shoulders.

"Nothing about you is obvious, Denny. That's why I ask questions."

For just a moment, Denise allowed herself to enjoy the contact and laid her head against his shoulder. She glanced up toward the sky. Was it her imagination, or were the stars coming out already? "It was nice of your mother to look after Audra tonight and your father to run one of the booths."

"I come from nice people." His breath feathered along her hair.

If only there was a way to bottle moments and capture them forever. This was the one she'd pick. The one she'd keep and take out to look at on those occasional evenings when she was feeling lost and alone.

"They really are," she agreed. "Your whole family's nice."

He laughed and she raised her head to look at him. "You haven't met Hank and Morgan."

"No, I haven't."

And it bothered her that she probably wouldn't. It bothered her even more that when she moved on, she was going to remember this man.

And miss him.

That wasn't good. Not in the long run. But maybe caring a little about one man would prevent her from ever fatally falling for another.

A smile teased the corners of her mouth as she thought about it. It was like getting a tiny bit of the flu to act as a vaccine against coming down with the disease in earnest.

Will felt her smile more than saw it Sliding his knuckles against her cheek, he turned her face toward his. "What are you thinking about?"

"Flu vaccines. And you." The latter admission slipped out.

He shook his head. "I won't ask the connection. Something tells me I'd rather not know." In the distance, he heard one of the bands starting a set. He rose, coaxing her to her feet. "So, what's next?"

"Next?" We've been going on rides for the last three hours."

The music was growing louder. He could feel it in his body, making his toe tap. "We've hardly scratched the surface. The shows are going to start now."

Denise had seen the flyer. There were at least fifteen different programs, from the 4-H Club to a senior citizens' quartet singing songs from the Big Band era, slated for the evenings.

"Ah, yes, the local talent."

He raised a bemused brow. "Do I detect a note of sn.o.bbery?" he teased.

She'd had to endure some pretty dreadful performances in her time. Even if she wasn't watching, she could still hear. "Well..."

Will began drawing her toward the nearest stage. "Hey, all talent has to be local to somewhere. Tell you what, if the show's bad, we can leave and find another one to listen to."

"And if I said no?" she challenged, not because she wanted to be stubborn, but just because she wanted to hear what he'd say.

"I'm bigger than you are," he deadpanned. "The sheriffs my brother. You won't say no."

She was being charmed again and she knew it. But knowing still didn't help her resist. She shrugged goodnaturedly. "Then I won't."

He kissed her cheek quickly. "Love a cooperative woman," he said before drawing her to the first stage.

She could feel the outline of his lips far longer than she knew was safe.

The first show he lured her to was a ventriloquist act She found herself laughing and willing to suspend disbelief long enough to enjoy the wise cracks of the wooden partner on the performer's knee.

There was a singing group on the second makeshift stage and a band playing bluegra.s.s music on the third. She was more than willing to listen to it, but when Will began to lead her to where other couples were dancing, she dug in her heels and hung back.

Will looked at her quizzically. "What's the matter?"

"They're dancing," she stated needlessly.

"Yes, they are." He waited for her to say something further. "So?" he asked when she didn't. And then suddenly he knew. "You don't dance, do you?"

If he laughed, she was going to hit him. "Never exactly had time to learn."

"You've got the time now."

She stiffened, ready to turn on her heel and walk away at the slightest hint of the wrong answer. "You're not going to-"

"Yes, I am." Refusing to take no for an answer, Will held her hand firmly and drew her toward the other dancing couples.

The evening had gone too nicely to cause a scene now, but she didn't want to dance. "No, really, I've got two left feet."

He spared her a glance. The appraisal in his eyes sent a silent shiver through her.

"The last time I looked, everything you had was in exactly the right place, in exactly the right proportions." He saw the resistance in her countenance. He bent his head. "Remember," he whispered against her ear, "you owe me-"

Denise tried not to react to his breath on her skin. "So do your brothers."

He laughed, not about to be talked or coerced out of it. "They can't dance worth a lick."

Her chin shot up. "Neither can I."

"Maybe," he allowed amiably, "but you're a lot softer to hold than Quint is."

His arms were already around her. Denise found herself trapped within a well-muscled prison with no hope for escape. The only course left open to her was to seek parole for good behavior. That meant allowing herself to be humiliated.

Will could read her mind. It amazed him how intime he was to her and how quickly that had all happened.

"Look around you," he prompted. When she did, he said, "n.o.body's watching you, they're having too good a time themselves. The only one who's going to be looking at you is me, and I'm already doing that."

He was wearing her down, Denise thought. Not that she had all that much choice in the matter. "You're going to be sorry."

"Let me worry about that."

The band struck up a new song, something lively and vibrant Denise gave up protesting. If he wanted to have his feet mashed, that was his choice. "You asked for this."

"Yes, I guess I did." But he wasn't sorry.

Not even after she'd stomped on his foot a third time. Embarra.s.sed, Denise flushed, trying to pull away. "I think we should quit while you can still walk."

Will had no intention of quitting. The only thing he was intent on was enjoying Denise. He tightened his arms around her.

"If I fall, you'll hold me up."

The look in her eyes mocked him. "You have a lot of faith in me."

"No, actually I have a lot of faith in me-and my ability to judge people."

"There's no arguing with you, is there?"

If ever there was a case of the pot calling the kettle black, this had to be it, he thought. "No, but I've got a feeling that you're surely going to try anyway, aren't you?"

"What do you think?"

Instead of answering, Will laughed and spun her around again. He knew exactly what to think. And right now, the prospect of arguing with her until doomsday didn't bother him a bit.

9.

Even the air smelled sweeter tonight. Denise took a deep breath, trying to sustain the evening, sorry that it was over. Will had made her forget for a little while. Forget everything but him.

She turned toward him now in front of her trailer. Will's mother was inside, and she knew the woman had to be anxious to get home. No one stayed in a place like this if they had somewhere better to go. Like a house that sat in the midst of acres of land like a delicate bloom on top of a hearty cactus.

Funny how that seemed appealing to her now.

"I've forgotten how much fun going to the carnival can be. Thank you."

Will decided that he loved her smile-not just liked, but loved. It lit up her entire face, erasing all the signs of tension. He wished there was some way to prolong the evening. And make it the beginning of many evenings to come.

"I think you've forgotten how to have fun, period."

"Maybe." Denise tried not to think about how close he was standing to her, or how much closer she would have liked him to be. She knew where that led. And where that ended. "There's not much fun to be had these days, not with the business shrinking the way it is." Saying that almost made her feel guilty for having this evening when everything was so bleak for her and the others. "Every time I turn around, something else needs to be fixed, or replaced or Audra's outgrown her clothes again."

"Or your father's getting sick," Will interjected softly. He slipped his arm around her and noticed that this time, she didn't stiffen. "How long has he been this way?"

"Sickly?" She shut her eyes, suddenly weary. "Longer than I care to admit." Denise rallied, opening her eyes again. She wasn't going to let herself grow melancholy in front of him. That was no way to pay him back for tonight. "I couldn't seem to bully him into going to see a doctor."

He laughed softly. "Well, if you couldn't do it, then it couldn't be done. Don't beat yourself up over it."

She wasn't accustomed to being comforted. She was accustomed to being the one doing the comforting. "I don't know whether to thank you for trying to ease my conscience, or to hit you for making a crack."

He had no doubt that she wasn't kidding. "Do I get to vote?"

A feeling of magnanimity governed her tonight. Maybe it was the cotton candy. Unused to indulging, she was probably on the verge of overdosing on sugar. "Sure, why not?"

Maneuvering her against the back of the trailer, Will framed her body with his arms. "Then I'm going to write in my own candidate."

Denise liked the way he talked. Every time she thought he was strictly down to earth, he turned flowery on her. "Which is?"

When he held her this way, her body fit neatly against his. Even more closely than it had when they were dancing. It was the way he liked it. "If you can't guess by now, lady, then you're not nearly as sharp as I think you are."

Longing rippled through her, deep and insistent. She almost gave in. As it was, she allowed herself to linger a second longer on its brink than she knew was safe.

"Oh, but I am. Sharper. So sharp that I know that it's for the best that I don't let this go any further than it's gone already."

c.o.c.king his head, he studied her face. "Doesn't sound very sharp to me."

Denise pushed away from him. She needed s.p.a.ce between them if she was going to say this. She didn't know why she wanted to, but she did.

"The summer I turned nineteen, we pa.s.sed through a town that was just north of Monterey, California. Silverton."

She said the name as if there was a world full of memories attached to it, Will thought He experienced the very first p.r.i.c.k of jealousy he'd ever felt It took effort not to say anything and to refrain from taking her back into his arms. But he knew she couldn't be crowded. What he took to be comfort, she understood as being possessed and controlled. Putting his own feelings aside, he gave Denise her s.p.a.ce.

"They were putting on a charity benefit, a real big deal and they wanted rides, lots of rides." She pressed her lips together, determined not to allow the memory to burrow its way through. "I lost my heart on one of those rides." Her mouth curved in a self-deprecating smile. "Lost a lot more than that, although not directly on the ride." Though she was trying not to let it, a tiny patch of the past was calling to her, coaxing her back. Trying to stir up her feelings.

Denise struggled to keep her voice matter-of-fact, but it wasn't easy. "His name was David Donnelly, and he looked as if he'd stepped out of a dream. He was tall, dark and had the nicest smile. He charmed me right out of my boots." She laughed shortly, looking away. "Out of a few other things, too. It was a beautiful summer romance."

She glanced at the side of the trailer, where their logo was written in huge, fading script letters, as if seeing it somehow grounded her.

"We were on our way to Galveston when I realized that there was one more of us than had originally signed on." Now there was no stopping them. The feelings she'd experienced then were all coming back to her. Not the love, but the aftermath. The emptiness and pain. She blew out a breath. "I was scared and excited at the same time. I was naive enough to think that the baby I was carrying was the physical embodiment of the love I actually thought existed between David and me. I was set straight quickly enough. The letter I wrote him eventually found its way back to me, marked Return To Sender, Address Unknown.'

"Address Unknown," she repeated with a shake of her head. There was no humor in it, but the joke, cruel and painful, had been on her. "His family had the biggest house in the valley. I really don't think the mail carrier had trouble finding it." She shoved fisted hands into her jeans. "So I got my courage up and called from the first town we hit. The maid told me he wasn't taking calls from strangers." Tears were shimmering in her eyes when she looked at Will. She felt them and d.a.m.ned herself for them. Only small children and fools cried, and she wasn't a small child anymore. "I told her to tell him that he was going to be a father. I never heard from him." She pressed her lips together. "So, you see why I don't want this going anywhere."

Unable to hold back any longer, Will cupped her cheek. It was damp. Sympathy and anger rose up, twins born of the same moment.

"No, I don't see," he said softly, wiping away the tear that trickled down with his thumb. "What I see is a woman who's bitten into one rotten apple and condemned the whole orchard."

The comparison made Denise laugh. And gave her the opportunity to get a grip on herself. For a moment, she allowed herself to absorb the comfort he'd silently offered, then slowly moved her head away. "So now you're an apple?"

"I'll be anything you want, as long as it makes that look in your eyes go away."