" Humor, tender emotion, and sizzling sensuality...Dylan and Rose set the pages on fire...one of the hottest books out this year!"  
A LITTLE ROMANCE 

Shaking his head, the preacher stepped behind the pulpit and withdrew a well-worn bible. " Dearly Beloved--"  

" I'm not marrying anyone!" Dylan's shout was completely ignored. He looked down at his feet and shook his head in disgust. Well, at least it wouldn't be legal. Jeff would have it annulled--no problem. He doubted whether even that would be required since there was no marriage license, no blood tests.... 

Suddenly, he recalled the cellular phone in his hip pocket. Reaching back with a tentative hand, he sighed in relief and withdrew the coveted object. After flipping it on, he punched in Jeff's home number. 

Nothing but static. 

" What's that?" the twins asked in unison, stepping forward to admire the instrument in Dylan's hand. He punched the numbers in again, glancing warily at the two huge predatory animals. 

" Put that gol-durned thing away an' pay attention, boy."  

Zeke didn't seem the least bit impressed with the cellular phone and at the moment neither was Dylan. A whole hell of a lot of good it did him if it didn't work. 

" Do you...." The preacher glanced at Zeke, who still had his gun wedged between two of Dylan's tender ribs. " What did you say this fellow's name is?"  

" Dylan, so's he claims." Zeke gouged the barrel deeper into Dylan's side. " He best be tellin' us right, too, if he wants to see the sun rise agin. Hold her hand, boy."  

" Dylan Marshall, M.D." Dylan winced. He'd be damned if he'd hold the hand of the seething woman at his side. She was doing a fine job of imitating his outrage. " This isn't legal." After a third futile attempt to call Jeff, he returned the worthless phone to his hip pocket. 

" Do you, Dylan, take Rose to be your lawful wedded...."  

He tried to tune out the preacher's nasal voice. It was very late and he was exhausted. He'd be damned if he'd return to the cabin tonight--not after this. He was going to make a straight path to the farmhouse and a nice, soft bed. Right after he called Jeff and woke him up. 

" Say 'I do,' boy." Zeke prodded Dylan's bruised flesh and bone again. 

" Easy with that thing, old man." Dylan glared at his captor. Zeke gouged even deeper in response. " All right. I do, but I really don't."  

The minister sighed. " I reckon that's good enough."  

At Zeke's nod, the man smiled. " I now pronounce you man and wife. You can kiss her now, boy."  

" Kiss her...son," Zeke said ominously, though he was grinning like some kind of maniac. " Now I reckon we got us a real doctor in the family. How about that? Jim ain't gonna like this one bit."  

He felt Rose's gaze on him, but refused to meet hers. Somehow he knew she was crying, and for some inexplicable reason, he felt responsible. She was an actress--a very talented one--both here and in his bed. He glanced askance at her again. Wasn't she? 

With a sigh, he turned to face his captor again. He could play their little game if it would get him out of here. " Are you happy, now?" Dylan finally asked Zeke, pushing the barrel of the gun away. " You've managed to keep everyone up all night and make Rose cry."  

" Miss High-n-Mighty's your problem now." Zeke scowled. No humor remained on his grizzled features. " Now...I said kiss her."  

Dylan saw murder in those rheumy eyes. Something deep in his gut hinted that this was no game, and the man who held the gun so expertly was no actor. 

Logic demanded it wasn't so. 

Instinct screamed otherwise. 

He nodded, then looked into Rose's eyes. His breath caught in his throat at the anguish and fury he saw so plainly. Academy Award material if he'd ever seen it. Such expressive, traitorous eyes--tears glistened in their depths and trickled down her cheeks. Very effective. Her face was so lovely he ached to touch it, though her gaze sparkled with anger and rage behind the tears. 

" Damn." He cupped her chin in his hand. Another tear escaped and rolled down her cheek. He caught it with his fingertip and brushed it away. 

Her angry gaze wavered. " I'm sorry," she said so softly he thought at first he was mistaken. 

Dylan frowned. Why would she be sorry? If indeed she was only performing a role, why should she regret success? None of this made sense. 

" Kiss her!" Zeke's voice was fierce. 

Dylan lowered his mouth to hers, intending to deliver only a brief peck, but he'd forgotten how sweet she tasted. Once his mouth made contact with hers, instinct took over. He kissed her as if staking a claim. 

Claim--like husbandly rights? 

He tried to fight his natural urges, but it was a futile campaign. The influence of her soft, warm frame pressed so enticingly against his combined with the memory of the ghostly spirit who'd made unrestrained love to him. 

That memory was the fatal blow to his self-restraint. He kissed her with the raw yearning her repeated visits had created and now commanded. His body responded as if it was at a hormone smorgasbord. 

Take what you want and leave what you don't. 

Unfortunately, he had no concept of moderation where this woman was concerned. 

" There, now." Zeke's voice intruded on Dylan's foggy mind. " I told you this'd happen after the hitchin'."  

Dylan jerked himself away from Rose. Obviously startled by his abrupt release, she wavered and nearly collapsed at his feet. An entire lifetime of practicing good manners demanded he offer a steadying hand. She looked up at him with eyes so clear and bright he felt certain she wore tinted contact lenses--a tool to lure her victims into her lair. Yet she seemed as confused by her reaction as he. 

" Damn."  

" I'll thank you to mind your tongue in here, boy," the preacher scolded, though his eyes reflected a glint of humor. 

" Sorry." Why the hell am I apologizing to him? Dylan looked steadily at Zeke Sawyer, or whatever his real name was. " I'm getting out of here. I'll have this thing annulled by tomorrow. It isn't legal to marry without a blood test and license."  

Zeke guffawed with his sons. Rose's lower lip trembled slightly, forcing Dylan to look away. 

The minister seemed nonplused. " Oh, it's legal, son." He shook his head and offered Dylan a parchment. " I don't know about a license and...blood test? But here's your certificate--all legal and binding as can be."  

Dylan grabbed the document and clutched it in his hand, taking every ounce of self-restraint he could muster to prevent him from ripping it to shreds. He'd just give this to Jeff.... 

Considering the various ways he could get out of the ridiculous liaison, Dylan scanned the forgery. His confidence was unwavering...until he read the date just beneath the actor-minister's ostentatious signature. 

March 30, 1894. 

He did a double-take.

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