Page 107 of Fancy Pants (Wynette, Texas 1)

“You son of a bitch!” Dallie yelled, shaking his fist at the back end of the Ford. “I'm going to kill him! When I get my hands on him, he's gonna regret the day he was born. I should have known— That rotten no-good—”

“I don't understand,” Francesca cut in. “What's he doing? Why is he leaving us?”

“Because he can't stand listening to you argue anymore, that's why!”

“Me!”

There was a short pause before he grabbed her upper arm. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“My house. It's about a mile or so down the next road.”

“How convenient,” she said dryly. “Are you sure the two of you didn't plot this together?”

“Believe me,” he snarled, starting to walk again, “the last thing in the world I want is to be stuck in that house with you. There's not even a telephone.”

“Look on the bright side,” she replied sarcastically. “With those Goody Two-shoes rules you've laid down, we won't be able to fight once we get in the house.”

“Yeah, well you'd better stick to those rules or you'll find yourself spending the night on the front porch.”

“Spending the night?”

“You don't really think he's going to come back and get us before morning, do you?”

“You're kidding.”

“Do I look like it?”

They walked for a little bit, and then, just to aggravate him, she started humming Willie Nelson's “On the Road Again.” He stopped and glared at her.

“Oh, don't be such a sourpuss,” she chided. “You have to admit this is at least a little amusing.”

“Amusing!” Once again his hands slammed down on his hips. “I'd like to know what's so damned amusing about it! You know just as well as I do what's going to happen between the two of us in that house tonight.”

A truck whipped by them, tossing Francesca's hair against her cheek. She felt her pulse jump in her throat. “I don't know any such thing,” she replied haughtily. He gave her a scornful look, telling her without words that he thought she was the world's biggest hypocrite. She glared at him and then decided the best course lay in advance rather than retreat. “Even if you're right—which you're not—you don't have to act as if you're heading for a root canal operation.”

“That'd probably be a hell of a lot less painful.”

One of his barbs had finally pricked, and now she was the one who stopped walking. “Do you really mean that?” she asked, genuinely hurt.

He shoved one hand in the pocket of his parka and kicked a stone with his foot. “Of course I mean it.”

“You do not.”

“I absolutely do.”

She must have looked as upset as she felt, because his expression softened and then he took a step toward her. “Aw, Francie...”

Before either of them quite knew what was happening, she was in his arms and he was gently lowering his mouth to hers. The kiss began soft and sweet, but they were so hungry for each other that it changed almost immediately. His fingers plowed into her hair, sweeping it back from her temples to fall over his hands. She wrapped her arms around his neck and, standing on tiptoe, parted her lips to welcome his tongue.

The kiss shattered them. It was like a great typhoon sweeping away all their differences with its strength. One of his hands reached beneath her hips, lifting her just off the ground. His kiss moved from her mouth to her neck and then back to her mouth. His hand found the bare skin where her jacket and sweater had risen above her slacks, and he stroked upward along her spine. Within seconds, the two of them were hot and wet, full of juice, ready to eat each other up.

A car sped past, horn blasting, catcalls sounding out the window. Francesca released her grasp around his neck. “Stop,” she moaned. “We can't... Oh, God...” He lowered her slowly to the ground. Her skin was hot.

Slowly, Dallie withdrew his hand from beneath her sweater and let her go. “The thing of it is,” he said, his voice slightly breathless, “when this sort of thing happens between people—this kind of sexual chemistry—they lose their common sense.”

“Does this sort of thing happen to you often?” she snapped, suddenly as nervous as a cat with its fur being stroked the wrong way.

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