Lonely In Longtree by Jill Stengl Page A

sparkle resembled Marva’s eyes.
    A laugh rose in his throat, but he turned it into a cough. Obviously he had not been writing enough fiction lately, since his cowboy hero’s poetic musings were starting to replace his own rational thoughts. Marva had made it clear way back in her first letter that she desired a marriage conducted like a mutually beneficial business partnership. I neither expect nor desire romantic overtures. She meant during courtship, surely. Or did she?
    Tugging at his collar as if it choked him, he gave her a quick sideward glance and shook his head. Unless she married a man already on his deathbed, a platonic marriage would never work. And it shouldn’t work. God had not ordained marriage to be a platonic relationship. From Monte’s observations of Marva, admittedly limited, he suspected she wanted more from a marriage than her letters indicated, whether she realized it or not.
    He would allow her to rest and recover for a few more minutes. They would have to return to the main road whether he took her to the lodge or back into Woodruff, and he wasn’t eager to expose her to more afternoon sun.
    â€œI hope that awful man doesn’t come this way or release his dog,” she said into a long silence. “I can’t tell you how relieved I was to see you. I felt as if I might faint both from heat and from fear, and then what might have happened? God sent you. I know He did.”
    Monte couldn’t honestly say that Blanchard would not have harmed her. “I know little about him, actually. Blanchard, I mean.” He laced his hands around one upraised knee and pondered how to phrase his next statement. “I don’t blame you for wanting a few hours to yourself, for wanting some privacy and independence, but it’s just not safe for a woman to drive out alone around here.”
    Now would be the time to indicate that he knew why she wanted to interview local lodge owners, but he couldn’t find the words. Come to think of it, why didn’t she connect him with Lucky in Lakeland? He obviously fit the role. Her attitude was confusing, almost as if she hoped anyone besides Monte would prove to be her correspondent. It was slightly insulting, if he were entirely honest with himself.
    She rolled to her side and sat up, leaning on one hand and rubbing her temple with the other. “I’m no longer overheated, but my head aches terribly.” A thick lock of hair studded with two hairpins dipped over her shoulder.
    â€œDrink more water.” He shifted closer to her and held out the canteen.
    She scooted over a little and accepted it, and for a moment, their eyes met. Tipping back her head, she drank. A little water dribbled down her chin and dripped on her blouse. She lowered the canteen and wiped the back of her hand over her lips. “Thank you.”
    He took it back and drank a few swallows himself. Anything to keep occupied. While screwing the lid back on, he considered his next move. “I want you to see a doctor. Sunstroke can be dangerous.”
    â€œI don’t think I’m that ill. Mostly I just want to lie down in a cool, dark room and sleep. I feel. . .weak.” Tears suddenly brimmed in her eyes. “And stupid.”
    â€œYou’re not stupid. Far from it.” The tears were his undoing. He scooted just a little closer and put his arm around her shoulders, hoping she might see it as a fatherly move and allow the familiarity this once. His actual motivation was anything but paternal. To his surprise and delight, she laid her head on his chest and let her shoulder touch his side.
    An unfamiliar blend of passion and protective tenderness whipped through his veins, making him feel twenty years younger. He rubbed her arm and tightened his grip, realizing in a flash that he was unprepared to handle this onslaught of temptation. A quick plea for strength gave him just enough willpower to sit upright and try to brush the moment