are you going?”
Chance paused only long enough to shake off her frantic hand. “Since there aren’t any cold showers out here, I’m going to find a cold beer.”
Loretta West was dressed to the cleavage in a slingshot of white sundress that played up her palomino paleness. Now, sitting in one of the folding chairs at the edge of the circle, she nudged Joni with her elbow. “Sweet Mother Macree, but your wildcatter sure is smooth.”
Joni glanced at Chance, dancing with a brunette in red Wranglers and boots, then back at Loretta. “For the last time, he’s not my wildcatter.”
“If you’d seen the daggers he was throwing at Simp Creed when you two were dancing a little while ago,” Loretta said, “you’d know why I keep calling him ‘your’ wildcatter.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Joni sputtered. “Simp and I are friends—nothing more and nothing less.”
“I know that and you know that,” the buxom blonde agreed. “But if looks could kill, poor old Simp would be flat on the pavement right now.”
Joni’s startled gaze swung back to the circle, where Chance was guiding his partner around with skilled finesse. He caught her eye and nodded, then spun away, leaving her to stare at hisbroad shoulders and the brunette’s familiar arm spanning them.
He danced the way he did everything else—with an easy rhythm rare in a man his size—and her heart tripped the light fantastic when she remembered his talented mouth. She twisted the plain gold band on her finger, trying to recall the cadence of Larry’s kisses. But her memory rested on the sensual tempo of Chance’s tongue, and she knew there was no dislodging it.
Loretta leaned over and laid her hand on Joni’s. “The way you’re worrying that ring, a body would think it was a ball and chain.”
“I’ve thought about taking it off,” Joni admitted softly, conscious of how heavy it had become these last two weeks. “But I’ve worn it for seven years now, and going without it would be like … going naked.”
Loretta gave a throaty chuckle. “That’s not a bad way to go.”
Joni snatched her hand away. “Forget I even said anything, okay?”
The blonde sat back, not the least bit offended, and stared at her with disconcertingly candid blue eyes. “I see you’ve finally decided to let your hair down.”
“Only for tonight.”
“One small step in the right direction.”
Joni looked around the circle, not liking the drift of the conversation, but she’d lost Chance in the crowd. “Did I tell you that Grandpa is taking some new medicine?”
“There he is.”
“Who?” But her casual response didn’t fool Loretta.
“Your wildcatter.”
Joni felt a spurt of jealousy when she saw Chance laughing at something the brunette was saying. “I told you—”
“ ‘He’s not my wildcatter,’ ” Loretta finished for her.
The music ended then, and the dancers milled about the circle while commercials for everything from herbicide to hairspray jammed the airwaves.
Chance broke away from the brunette and headed for the community beer keg, where a woman in a billowy blue dress gave him the glad eye.
His words came back to haunt Joni. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right on target. But how did she go about divorcing herself from a ghost, not to mention the guilt?
The dulcet-voiced deejay announced the final number before he signed off for the night. It was a romantic ballad, one of Joni’s favorites.
“Last dance is ladies’ choice,” Loretta reminded her.
“If he’d wanted to dance with me, he would have asked me,” Joni answered stiffly.
Loretta had never married, but what she didn’t know about men wasn’t worth knowing. “Maybe he’s waiting for you to make up your mind.”
Joni looked as if she’d just swallowed one of the June bugs attracted by the headlights. “You saw us in the car?”
“And out of it.”
The music started, casting a magic spell over the circle, and Joni realized she’d
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