Saxon's Lady Read Online Free
Author: Stephanie Janes
watched Garth glance again at his watch.
"It's time to go, Devon." He put down his empty glass and got to his feet. "Where's your coat?"
Devon's fingers shook slightly as she set her own glass down on the table with care. "On that hook over there." She indicated a brass hook on the wall that was buried under a variety of stylish trench coats and umbrellas. "The khaki one."
Garth followed her glance. "They're all khaki."
"It's the style, Garth. Sort of like cowboy boots back in Hawk Springs. Everyone wears them. My coat has a yellow scarf around the collar."
Christy watched him move purposefully across the room. Garth cut through the crowd with the ease of an Arabian stallion moving through a herd of Shetland ponies. Christy whistled soundlessly. "I can't believe this, Devon."
Devon collected her expensive leather clutch bag and rose to her feet. "Neither can I ."
"Are you really going with him?"
Devon hesitated. "For now," she said softly. "I have to go with him Christy. Garth and I need to talk."
"I don't think talking is going to change his mind. That man's already waited a solid year. He wants you, Devon."
Devon tightened her grip on the leather clutch as she turned her head to watch Garth stride back toward them, khaki trench coat in hand. "We're all wrong for each other. But he doesn't seem to understand that. I'm city and he's country. Why can't he see that?"
"Probably," Christy remarked dryly, "because he's looking at something a bit more fundamental. He's a man and you're the woman he wants. I have a hunch that for him it's all fairly simple and straightforward. Do you love him, Devon?"
Devon was startled by the question. For an instant words deserted her. Then she said in a rush, "Love him? Christy, you don't seem to comprehend the situation. I've tried to explain..."
"I've known you for almost a whole year, Devon, and I would stake my next paycheck that you haven't let any man do more than give you a polite good-night kiss after a date. Your social life is active enough, but hardly passionate. You've got lots of friends, but no lovers. There's been more than one or two men this past year who would have been quite happy to receive an invitation to bed and even a serious relationship."
Devon was shocked. "I couldn't possibly have gotten involved in a serious relationship with any of the men I've been dating."
"Why not? Some of them were quite nice."
"Yes, but..." Devon's voice trailed off weakly as she realized just what she was tacitly admitting. There had been no other man for her this past year. She had told herself it was because she was too busy enjoying her freedom to get involved with a serious commitment. But deep down she knew there'd always been another reason for keeping her dates casual and uncomplicated.
There was no sense fooling herself . Subconsciously she'd been waiting for Garth.
"Well?" Christy prompted.
"It's crazy," Devon whispered in soft panic. She didn't want to think about Christy's question. "The whole thing is total nonsense. Don't you see, Christy? Garth and I are all wrong for each other."
She jumped as she felt Garth's hand on her shoulder. He settled the trench coat around her shoulders without a word. Mutely she glanced up at him, wondering how much he'd overheard. But he merely smiled slightly and nodded politely toward Christy.
Then he guided Devon gently but firmly toward the door as if she were a nervous little stray filly he'd rounded up to take home.
Two
Devon was still skittish, still looking for a way to avoid him, still clinging to her muddled notion of freedom, Garth thought as he guided the late-model pickup out of the downtown financial district. Perhaps a year's grace had been a mistake, after all.
It had certainly given her a sophisticated veneer, he had to admit. At a stoplight he examined her covertly as she sat beside him in the cab. She hadn't said a word since they'd left the pub. Mentally he cataloged the things about her
"It's time to go, Devon." He put down his empty glass and got to his feet. "Where's your coat?"
Devon's fingers shook slightly as she set her own glass down on the table with care. "On that hook over there." She indicated a brass hook on the wall that was buried under a variety of stylish trench coats and umbrellas. "The khaki one."
Garth followed her glance. "They're all khaki."
"It's the style, Garth. Sort of like cowboy boots back in Hawk Springs. Everyone wears them. My coat has a yellow scarf around the collar."
Christy watched him move purposefully across the room. Garth cut through the crowd with the ease of an Arabian stallion moving through a herd of Shetland ponies. Christy whistled soundlessly. "I can't believe this, Devon."
Devon collected her expensive leather clutch bag and rose to her feet. "Neither can I ."
"Are you really going with him?"
Devon hesitated. "For now," she said softly. "I have to go with him Christy. Garth and I need to talk."
"I don't think talking is going to change his mind. That man's already waited a solid year. He wants you, Devon."
Devon tightened her grip on the leather clutch as she turned her head to watch Garth stride back toward them, khaki trench coat in hand. "We're all wrong for each other. But he doesn't seem to understand that. I'm city and he's country. Why can't he see that?"
"Probably," Christy remarked dryly, "because he's looking at something a bit more fundamental. He's a man and you're the woman he wants. I have a hunch that for him it's all fairly simple and straightforward. Do you love him, Devon?"
Devon was startled by the question. For an instant words deserted her. Then she said in a rush, "Love him? Christy, you don't seem to comprehend the situation. I've tried to explain..."
"I've known you for almost a whole year, Devon, and I would stake my next paycheck that you haven't let any man do more than give you a polite good-night kiss after a date. Your social life is active enough, but hardly passionate. You've got lots of friends, but no lovers. There's been more than one or two men this past year who would have been quite happy to receive an invitation to bed and even a serious relationship."
Devon was shocked. "I couldn't possibly have gotten involved in a serious relationship with any of the men I've been dating."
"Why not? Some of them were quite nice."
"Yes, but..." Devon's voice trailed off weakly as she realized just what she was tacitly admitting. There had been no other man for her this past year. She had told herself it was because she was too busy enjoying her freedom to get involved with a serious commitment. But deep down she knew there'd always been another reason for keeping her dates casual and uncomplicated.
There was no sense fooling herself . Subconsciously she'd been waiting for Garth.
"Well?" Christy prompted.
"It's crazy," Devon whispered in soft panic. She didn't want to think about Christy's question. "The whole thing is total nonsense. Don't you see, Christy? Garth and I are all wrong for each other."
She jumped as she felt Garth's hand on her shoulder. He settled the trench coat around her shoulders without a word. Mutely she glanced up at him, wondering how much he'd overheard. But he merely smiled slightly and nodded politely toward Christy.
Then he guided Devon gently but firmly toward the door as if she were a nervous little stray filly he'd rounded up to take home.
Two
Devon was still skittish, still looking for a way to avoid him, still clinging to her muddled notion of freedom, Garth thought as he guided the late-model pickup out of the downtown financial district. Perhaps a year's grace had been a mistake, after all.
It had certainly given her a sophisticated veneer, he had to admit. At a stoplight he examined her covertly as she sat beside him in the cab. She hadn't said a word since they'd left the pub. Mentally he cataloged the things about her
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