Miss Greenhorn by Diana Palmer Page A

you,” she whispered miserably.
    His jaw tautened. “No.”
    Her eyes lowered to his bare chest. “Are you…so certain?”
    â€œCertain enough.” He moved her over him and off the bed. “If you’ve never been intimate with anyone, it’s easy to delude yourself into thinking physical attraction is love. I know. I did that once. But it doesn’t last,” he added quietly, his dark eyes cutting into hers. “This is nothing more than an interlude, and my fault. I shouldn’t have touched you.”
    She looked down at him with anguish. He wanted sex and she wanted love. It was an impossible situation, and he was right. She should go home. She turned away toward the door.
    â€œI’ll get my things packed,” she said.
    â€œI didn’t mean you have to leave today,” he said tersely. Good God, what was wrong with him, he thought furiously. He knew it was the best thing all around, for her to go quickly. But the thought of her leaving was like a knife in his chest.
    â€œI should—”
    â€œNot today!” he said curtly.
    She turned around, her back against the door. She couldn’t really see him clearly, but she could feel his rage. “You said it would be better,” she reminded him.
    He leaned back against his pillows, still taut with unsatisfied desire, and raked a hand through his thick black hair. “Probably it would, but you’ve got a responsibility to the group. I don’t want to cost them a worker they need,” he said, not looking at her. “I’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again. Despite what I said about your chastity, I’ll send you home in your present condition. There won’t be any more…interludes.”
    Could he know how much it hurt to think of never being held by him again, kissed by him? She sighed shakily.
    â€œAll right,” she said. “Can I bring you anything?”
    â€œNo, thank you, honey,” he said gently. “Go on. I’ll be all right.”
    â€œI’ll get back to work, then.” She hesitated as she opened the door, not looking at him. “I’m glad you’re not hurt,” she said huskily. She closed the door behind her.
    She didn’t see Nate again until the next day. She’d been too embarrassed to go near him. It seemed to be that she went from shame to shame with him. First giving in so easily, then confessing that she loved him. She couldn’t imagine what had possessed her to admit it, knowing that he felt nothing like that for her. But it had seemed so natural at the time.
    George had been helping her sort pottery shards, in between doing his own search of the area. She loved what she was learning about the Hohokam , despite the sting in her heart over Nate.
    â€œOne school of archaeologists believes that the Hohokam society thrived for over nine thousand years,” George murmured as they studied the design on a large shard. “Imagine a society that stable, that unchanged.”
    â€œI can’t,” she said, brushing aside a stray wisp of hair. She was still going without makeup, without fixing her hair except into a soft bun, and without…
    Well, what harm was there, she asked herself bitterly. She only had a few days left and she wasn’t hurting anybody with this last little deceit. Besides, it was her own business.
    She and George were still buried in their discoveries when it was time to go back to the ranch for supper. She piled into the equipment van beside George and thought about all that had happened since she’d come to Arizona, and wondered how she was going to live the rest of her life without Nate. She’d marry Harry and help get his kids through college, and then…and then what? The thought of being touched by Harry’s pudgy hands made her sick.
    She still looked nauseous when she got to the buffet line. Nate was standing in the doorway watching her, curious about the