noticed his hands, the broad square fingers and rough calluses. With his shirtsleeves rolled up, her attention was drawn to his forearms, brown and muscled, dusted with light sun-bleached hair. She’d felt those arms around her and never realized how…
“Carly,” Russ prompted. “Don’t you want to pick up your cards?”
Carly blinked, then quickly gathered the cards from the table. The hand wasn’t great, but she’d beat him with worse. He was terrible at poker. Carly always won. She kept the two fours and traded the other three cards.
She tried not to grimace at what she got.
Russ traded two of his cards and thoughtfully rubbed his chin.
She traded two cards. The result brought her another four. Not bad, but she didn’t trust him. He wasn’t joking or talking as he usually did when they played.
It was Russ’s turn, and he knocked on the cherry table.
Carly raised her eyebrows. Knocking meant she had one more chance to trade before they showed their hands. After trading, she drew one more four. A rush of adrenaline shot through her. She would beat him again.
“I hope you’re keeping brushed up on anniversary songs,” Carly said confidently and laid down her cards with a flourish. “Four of a kind.”
The barest hint of a smile played around Russ’s eyes. He didn’t look at his cards as he turned them over. He watched Carly’s face instead.
Carly gasped in shock as she stared at his winning hand. “A straight flush! How did you do that? You’ve never had a straight flush before.” She looked at his face. “You won!” she said in an accusing voice.
Russ laughed. “I guess I finally got lucky. It’s about time, isn’t it?”
She was still shaking her head over the outcome when the consequence came to mind. “I guess I’ll have to pay you now.”
His smile fell. She noticed his jaw tighten before he picked up the cards and shuffled them. “I’ve never taken money for playing the piano. It wouldn’t feel right. But I’d be willing to negotiate.”
Negotiate. That word again. Carly grew suspicious. She opened her mouth to refuse until she remembered her goals for the summer. She needed Russ for these parties. He was part of the draw. The people probably wanted him as much as they wanted Matilda’s Dream.
It wasn’t that his piano playing was so superb. It was more the easy and relaxed mood he set for a party. He talked with the guests and took requests, occasionally led everyone in a sing-along.
She sighed. “Okay. What do you want? A private moonlight cruise with your latest favorite lady?” The idea pinched her insides but she said it anyway. “Do you want me to go over your books for free? Or,” she finished tongue in cheek, “do you need some help harvesting those ugly fish of yours?”
“None of the above.” He rose from the armchair and made his way over to her. “I’ve got a problem,” he said thoughtfully. “And I think you can help me with it.”
“Problem?” He sounded serious. Concern washed over her as she stared at him. He didn’t appear ill. “You’re not sick, are you?”
He wiped a broad hand across his mouth to hide a smile and sat beside her. “Not sick. More like harassed. You know how the Ladies’ Auxiliary at church—” He broke off, spying the Band-Aid on her thigh.
He circled the bandage with his index finger. Her skin was velvety soft. Her feminine scent wove around him, and he completely forgot her overprotective brothers were within shouting distance. The hem of her white shorts lay about an inch from his finger. Russ was so aware of just how close his hand was to her feminine secrets that his hand shook.
He brought his finger to his mouth and kissed it, then returned it to the bandage on her thigh. When her leg trembled beneath his touch, his dark gaze shot up to hers.
Carly struggled for breath. The innocent notion of kissing it to make it better took on a totally different meaning. Russ was so big, so male, sitting there in an ordinary cotton shirt and faded jeans that suddenly seemed to scream his virility.
There wasn’t anything different about him, she told herself. He’d always been both gentle and playful with her. He’d always sat that way, feet planted firmly on the ground, legs spread wide. Her gaze fell to the area that gloved his masculinity, and a staggering excitement raced through her.
Appalled at the direction of her thoughts, Carly jerked her leg away from his touch. She felt like a complete idiot. Inhaling sharply, she admonished herself to speak slowly.
“I was climbing over one of the fences, and I got scratched.” Was that pitiful, wobbly voice hers? Giving herself a hard mental shake, she continued more forcefully. “You were saying something about a problem.”
Russ cleared his throat and leaned back. “The Ladies’ Auxiliary has me targeted for this summer. You know how they find an eligible bachelor and shove every available female under his nose until he either marries one of them or moves away.”
Carly nodded, remembering how her oldest brother, Daniel, had actually left town for an entire summer. The older ladies of Beulah County took seriously their duty of making matches for the younger population.
“I just don’t have time for it this year,” Russ explained. “And there are several community activities I’m expected to attend.”
Carly frowned, wondering how he wanted her to assist him. “Russ, I wish I could help, but I don’t see how. I have no influence on those ladies. It’s not like I attend their meetings or anything.”
“Well, I wasn’t asking you to speak on my behalf.” He leaned forward. “I want you to be my escort for the summer. That would keep them off my back,” he told her in his most unromantic voice.
“Your escort?” Carly stood, trying to comprehend him. “For the entire summer! Then everyone would think we’re involved.” That was only her first objection.
Russ shrugged. “Yeah.”
She narrowed her eyes. “This could mess up your, uh, other romantic liaisons.”
He gave her a direct gaze. “I don’t have any other romantic liaisons. Besides, it’s a small price to pay. The Ladies’ Auxiliary is relentless.”
She rubbed her pounding forehead. Something about this just didn’t seem right. “Why didn’t you ask someone else? Someone who appeals to you.”
“Because,” he said patiently as he stood, “someone else would misunderstand my intentions. You won’t.”
That sensible explanation should have reassured her, but it didn’t. Her confusion suddenly cleared and in its place came anger. “What you want,” she began in a slow, quiet voice, “is for me to pretend I’m your—” she groped for an adequate term “—your adoring romantic interest for the summer. I would be at your disposal to attend activities, during which time the gossips would have a field day over our affair.”
Russ’s jaw tightened.
Carly ignored it. “Come September, we would
