Boone's Bounty. Vicki Thompson Lewis

be afraid to sleep. I’ll keep you safe.”

      4

      BOONE SHIFTED his chair so that it blocked the door, just in case. Then he leaned back and closed his eyes, although he didn’t expect to sleep. The room was too full of Shelby—her flowery scent, her soft breathing, her rustling movements as she turned over in bed.

      His sexual urges were coming out of hibernation, and the timing sucked. For the first time in more than a year, he was seriously interested in a woman. But in spite of the lousy timing, he was somewhat reassured by the ache in his groin. After Darlene had dumped him, he’d felt more like a steer than a bull, except, apparently, when he’d downed a pint of good Irish whiskey and taken Jessica to bed. That hardly counted.

      This counted. Nothing about Shelby reminded him of Darlene. Darlene was tall and big-boned, with brown eyes and hair. And damned impatient about getting a ring on her finger. He’d wanted to wait awhile to get married, so he could save enough money to give her a better style of life. At least that’s what he’d assumed was his motivation. Sebastian had thought all along he was stalling because deep down he wasn’t sure Darlene was the one.

      No matter what the reason, his method of operation hadn’t suited Darlene, and he’d lost her. Maybe she hadn’t been the one, but she’d been a big part of his life for a good many years, and he still couldn’t think of her without getting a lump in his throat.

      Except now he could. Boone’s eyes snapped open as he realized he’d been thinking about Darlene for several minutes, and his throat felt perfectly fine. Testing himself, he conjured up the pictures that usually sent him into deep depression—Darlene in a wedding dress, Darlene standing in front of the preacher with Chester Littlefield, Darlene and Chester in bed together.