Tyler - Diana Palmer

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you I haven’t said a word to her about it,” she said resignedly.

      “You throw her at me every time she comes out here, don’t you?” he asked with a mocking smile.

      She lowered her eyes and turned away. “I did once or twice, sure. I thought you might enjoy her company,” she said in a subdued tone. “She’s like you. Sophisticated and classy and upper crust. But if you’d rather she went with someone else, I’ll see what I can do.”

      He caught her arm, noticing the way she tensed and froze. “All right. You don’t have to make a federal case out of it. I just don’t like having myself volunteered for guest escort services. I like Margie, but I don’t need a matchmaker.”

      “No, you wouldn’t,” she said more sadly than she realized. “Will you let go of my arm, please?”

      “You can’t bear to be touched, can you?” he asked speculatively. “That was one of the first things I noticed about you. Why?”

      Her heart went wild. He couldn’t know that it was his touch lancing through her like white-hot pleasure that made her tremble, not a dislike of being touched by him. And that surprised her. “My private life is none of your business,” she said firmly.

      “No. You’ve made that very clear lately,” he replied. He let her go as if her arm burned his fingers. “Okay, honey. Have it your own way. As for Margie, I’ll work things out with her.”

      He sounded vaguely exasperated, but Nell was far too nervous to wonder about his tone of voice. A quick getaway was on her mind. When she was alone with him, it took all her willpower not to throw herself into his arms, despite all her inhibitions.

      “Okay,” she said, and shrugged, as if what he did were of no consequence to her. She went around him and into the house without looking back, unaware of his quiet gaze following her every step of the way.

      Nell avoided Tyler for the rest of the day, and she didn’t go to the square dance that night. She excused herself right after the barbecue and went up to her room. She was being a coward, she thought miserably, but at least she wouldn’t have to watch Margie flirt with Tyler.

      But memories of Tyler wouldn’t be put out of her mind. Her thoughts drifted relentlessly back to the very beginning, to his first few days at the ranch. From the moment she’d met him at the airport, he’d been gentle and kind to her, putting her at ease, making himself right at home in her company.

      And not only with Nell—he’d won over the men and Bella just as quickly. Nell had warmed to him as she never had to any man, with the exception of Darren McAnders. But even though Darren had left deep scars on her emotions, Nell knew instinctively that Tyler wouldn’t harm her. Before she realized what was happening to her, she was following him around like a puppy.

      She grimaced, remembering. She’d alternated between sighing over him and trying to find ways to make him more comfortable. She didn’t realize how her eagerness to please him might seem to other people…or even to Tyler. She was in awe of him, the wound of McAnders’s long-ago rejection forgotten.

      There was a square dance the second week he was in residence. Nell hadn’t put on a dress, but she did make sure her long hair was clean and neatly brushed, and she didn’t wear her slouch hat. As usual when there were strangers around, especially male ones, she drew into herself. Tyler made a convenient hiding place, and she got behind him and stayed there.

      “Scared?” he’d teased gently, not minding her shy company. She was a little sunflower, a child to cosset. He hadn’t asked her age, but he assumed she hadn’t made it out of her teens yet. She didn’t threaten him in any way, and he could afford to be kind to her.

      “I don’t mix well,” she confessed, smiling. “And I don’t really trust men very much. Some of the guests…well, they’re older men and their wives aren’t interested in them. I guess any young woman, even one like me, is fair game to them. I don’t want trouble, so mostly I stay away from dances.” Her dark eyes sought his. “You don’t mind if I stick back here with you?”

      “Of course not.” He leaned against one of the posts that supported the loft and busied his fingers braiding three strands of rawhide he’d found. “I haven’t been to a barn dance in a long time. Is this an ongoing ritual here?”

      “Every other Saturday night,” she confided. “We even invite the kids, so everybody gets to join in. The band—” she indicated the four-man band “—is a local group. We pay them forty dollars for the evening. They aren’t famous, but we think they’re pretty good.”

      “They are,” he agreed with a smile. He glanced down at her, wondering what she’d think of the kind of party he was used to, where the women wore designer gowns and there were full orchestras or at least string quartets and jazz quintets to provide the music.

      She twisted a strand of her hair in her fingers nervously, watching the married couples dance. There was a wistful expression in her eyes. He frowned as he watched her.

      “Do you want to dance, Nell?” he asked gently.

      She blushed. “No. I, well, I don’t dance,” she confessed, thrilling to the thought of being in his arms. But that might not be a good thing. He might see how attracted she was to him. She felt helpless when his hand accidentally brushed hers. She wasn’t sure she could handle a dose of him at close quarters without giving away her growing infatuation for him.

      “I could teach you,” he volunteered, faintly amused at her reticence.

      “No, I’d better not. I don’t want to…” She was going to say that she didn’t want to have to explain to the male guests why she wouldn’t dance with anyone but Tyler. It was too hard to make him understand that her flesh crawled at the thought of being handled by strange hands. But she coveted his touch, and that was new.

      “Okay, tidbit. No need to worry the point.” He smiled. “But I think I’m about to be abducted, so what will you do while I’m away?” he asked, indicating a heavyset middle-aged woman who was heading toward him with a gleeful smile.

      “I’ll just help out at the refreshment table,” she said, and excused herself. She watched him being led onto the dance floor and she sighed, wishing she was the one dancing with the long, tall Texan. But she was uncertain of herself. It was better if she didn’t rush things. Much better.

      After that evening, he became her port in a storm. If there were business meetings or problems that she had to discuss with the men or male guests, she always made sure Tyler was included. She began to think of him as a buffer between herself and a world that frightened her. But even as she relied on him, she couldn’t help feeling an attraction that was making it impossible for her to go on as she had. She wanted him to notice her, to see her as a woman. It was the first time in years that she’d wanted to show off her femininity, to look the way a woman should.

      But as she stared at herself in her mirror one morning, she wanted to cry. There wasn’t even good raw material to work with. She’d seen photos of movie stars who looked almost as bad as she did without their makeup, but she didn’t have the first idea how to make herself look beautiful. Her hair, while long and lustrous, needed shaping. Her eyebrows almost disappeared because they were so sun bleached. She had a good figure, but she was too shy to wear revealing clothes. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to go overboard, anyway, she told herself. It had taken years to get over her bad experience and the brutal honesty of the first man she’d set her cap at.

      Finally, she’d braided her hair into two long pigtails and looped Indian beaded holders around them. That didn’t look too bad, considering that her paternal grandmother was a full-blooded Apache. She only wished her face looked as good as her hair did. Well, miracles did happen. Maybe someday one would happen for her. And Tyler did actually seem to like her.

      She tried a hint of lipstick and put on her

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