Free One True Love (Cupid, Texas 0.5) by Lori Wilde

really a couple. He was my employer’s sister and the owner of the mine where my daddy had been killed. There were some lines that shouldn’t be crossed, even in this intimate environment where we’d quickly learned so much about each other.
    But his shoulders were so broad and tempting. I glanced around. All the other dancers were engrossed in their own discomfort. No one was watching us except for the two spotters, and the promoter had brought them in so they didn’t know us. No clothesline gossip.
    Caution flew out the door and I laid my head on his shoulder, resting my weight against him as I’d done that day on horseback. My knees were trembling and he probably thought it was because my legs were about to give out from all the dancing. He slipped his arm around my waist and whispered, “Steady.”
    But I wasn’t trembling from fatigue.
    I made no conscious decision to do so, but my arms slipped around his neck and it seemed as natural as breathing.
    “Millie,” his lips expelled my name on a soft whoosh of air.
    “Mmm,” I whispered, my eyelids drooping closed. Sleepy. So sleepy. Sweet dreams.
    His thumping heart bounded from his chest into mine and they beat together in one throbbing rhythm that zoomed through my blood, pounded loudly in my ears until I could hear nothing more.
    John turned his head. His jaw, barbed with beard stubble, grazed against my cheek. Instinctively, I curled into his soothing warmth and nuzzled my face into the hollow of his neck.
    I’m not sure how it happened. Maybe it was me. Maybe it was John. Most likely it was both of us. Our lips were so close and we were clamped together, holding each other and swaying to keep going. Moving my head forward just a quarter of an inch felt so natural.
    John’s chin lowered.
    Our lips brushed.
    A bolt of energy shot through me, but instead of pulling away, I pressed closer, wanting more. Oh! Wrong. Wrong. I know. I know. It seemed so unreal, but at the same time sharper and clearer than anything I had ever experienced.
    Suddenly, I was hyperaware of everything.
    The band was playing “Why Did I Kiss That Girl?” Irony or inspiration? John’s scent mingled with mine, a pleasing musky smell. The texture of his lips, firm but yielding, like the flesh of a ripe plum. The heat between us. The snap, crackle, sizzle.
    His mouth captured mine in a kiss so stunning I could not breathe. My head spun, my heart catapulted into my throat. The whole world tilted out of control.
    Just as abruptly as he kissed me, John pulled back. “No. We can’t do this.”
    Why? I wanted to beg, but I knew. I wasn’t worthy of him.
    I blinked away the fog of bliss, looked into his dark chocolate eyes, saw pain and conflict there. He might not want to want me, but he did.
    “John,” I whispered, not knowing what else to say or do.
    He loosened my arms from around his neck, but took my hand. “Millie . . . I have something I should have told you a long time ago, but I thought I could control myself. I never counted on your devastating allure or how this dance marathon would affect us.”
    I gulped. Hope. Stupidly, I clung to hope. “What is it?”
    Anguish carved furrows in his face. “I am betrothed.”

 
    Chapter Seven
    B ETROTHED.
    John was engaged to marry another.
    But of course. Why was I so shocked? He was twenty-six years old. The head of his family’s empire. He required a wife befitting his station and heirs to pass his fortunes down to.
    My stomach churned. Why hadn’t I known that he was engaged? Why hadn’t someone mentioned this woman to me? Mabel loved to gossip sure enough, and yet I hadn’t heard a peep about John’s betrothal. Why hadn’t I ever seen him with this mysterious fiancée? Why was I so dumbly in the dark?
    I yanked my gaze from his, stared unseeingly across the dance floor.
    “Her name is Elizabeth Nielson,” he went on. “We’ve been betrothed since I returned from the war, but she was too young to get married at the