His eyes widened. “I used to work down in Texas,” he said hesitantly. “What do you know about chaps?”
“Lots.” She grinned. “I grew up reading Zane Grey.”
“No better teacher, except Louis L’Amour,” he murmured. His pale eyes slid down her body. She was wearing jeans and a white shirt, short sleeved, because it was June and warm.
“No hat,” he observed, narrow-eyed. “You know better, or you should, having lived in Arizona. June is a hot month, even here.”
She grimaced. “Yes, but I hate hats. It isn’t usually this warm, surely, this far north?”
Those hazel eyes were casting spells. He had to drag his away. “We get hot summers. Winters are the problem,” he said, nodding toward the distant peaks, snow covered even in the summer. “We get three and four feet of snow at a time. Trying to find calving cows in that can be a headache.”
“I expect so.” Her eyes went to his thin mouth. “But isn’t summer a busier time?”
He looked down at her. “Not as much so as April and September. That’s when we round up cattle.”
“I guess that keeps you busy,” she said softly.
“No more than anything else does,” he said shortly. He had to get away from her. She disturbed him. “I’ve got to go.”
“That’s it, reject me,” she said with a theatrical sigh, hiding her shyness in humor. “Push me aside—I can take it.”
He smiled without meaning to. “Can you?” he murmured absently.
“Probably not,” she confessed dryly. She searched his eyes. “Winnie warned me to stay away from you. She says you’re a womanizer.”
He stared down at her. “So? She’s right,” he said without pulling his punches. “I’ve never made any secret of it.” His eyes narrowed on her face. “Did you expect a different answer?”
She shook her head. “I’m glad I didn’t get one. I don’t mind the truth.”
“Neither do I, but we’re pretty much in the minority. I find that most people prefer lies, however blatant.”
She felt momentarily guilty, because she was trying to behave like someone she wasn’t. But she knew that her real self wasn’t likely to appeal to him. She couldn’t help herself.
Gene saw that expression come and go on her face and was puzzled by it. He glanced past her, watching Winnie in the doorway of a shop, talking to another woman.
“You’d better go,” he said abruptly. “Your watchdog’s about to spot you talking to me.” He smiled with pure sarcasm. “She’ll give you hell all day if she sees us together.”
“Would you mind?” she asked.
He nodded. “For Dwight’s sake, yes, I would. I don’t want to alienate Winnie before the wedding.” He laughed curtly. “Plenty of time for that afterward.”
“You aren’t half as bad as you pretend to be,” she remarked.
He sobered instantly. “Don’t you believe it, cupcake,” he replied. “You’d better go.”
“All right.” She sighed, clutching the bag of thread against her breasts. “See you.”
“Sure.” He walked past her to his black Jeep and he didn’t allow himself to look back. Pursuing her had been a big mistake. She was Winnie’s best friend, and Winnie was obviously determined not to let her become one of his casual interludes. He had to keep his head. He had more than enough problems already, and alienating his future sister-in-law wasn’t going to solve any of them. That being the case, it might be wise, he told himself sarcastically, if he stopped following her around!
Allison was calm by the time Winnie finally joined her. “My dress is coming along beautifully,” she said. “Did I see you talking to someone?”
“Just passing conversation. I got your mother’s thread,” Allison said, evading the curious question gracefully. By the time they got back to the car, Winnie had forgotten all about it.
But Allison couldn’t forget about Gene. When she was invited, along with Winnie, to supper at the Nelson home two days later, it was almost as if Fate was working in her favor.
She wore a plain gray dress with a high neckline and straight skirt, gently gathered at the waist with a belt. It wasn’t a sexy dress, but when she wore it, it became one. She did her hair in a neat French plait and put on makeup as Winnie had taught her. When she finished, she looked much less sophisticated than she had at the barbecue—a puzzling outcome.
“I don’t look the way I did before,” she told Winnie after they’d said good-night to Mrs. Manley and were on the way to the Nelsons’.
“You look great,” Winnie corrected. “And tonight, will you please be yourself?”
“Why? Are you hoping that Gene Nelson might keep his distance if he sees what a frump I really am?” she murmured dryly.
“He seems to be doing that all by himself,” Winnie reminded her. “I’m not trying to be difficult, honestly I’m not.” She sighed worriedly. “I just don’t want to see you hurt. Gene...isn’t himself these days.”
“What was he like before?” Allison asked softly.
Winnie laughed. “Full of fun. He always had his eye on the ladies, but he was less blatant with it. Now, he’s reckless and apparently without conscience when it comes to women. He doesn’t really care whom he hurts.”
“I don’t think he’d hurt me, though, Winnie,” she said.
“Don’t bet on it,” the other woman replied. “You put too much faith in people’s better instincts. Some people don’t have any.”
“I’ll never believe that,” Allison said firmly. “Not after what I’ve seen. Beauty often hides in the most horrible places.”
Winnie’s eyes were gentle as they glanced toward her friend. She didn’t know what to say to Allison. Probably nothing would do much good. She’d just have to hope that Gene was out, or that, if he was home, he wasn’t interested in Allison.
It was late afternoon, and still light. A gentle flutter of rain greeted them as they arrived in front of the Nelson house and darted up the steps to the front door.
“You’re early,” Marie stammered, flustered
