The Brass Ring

  The Brass Ring

  ✥

  Susan Crose

  THE BRASS RING

  A Bantam Book I July 1988

  LOVESWEPT and the wave device are registered trademarks of Bantam Books. Registered In U.S. Patent and Trademark Office and elsewhere.

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright © 1988 by Susan Crose.

  Cover art copyright © 1988 by Barnett Plotkin.

  ISBN 0-553-21907-3

  Published simultaneously in the United States and Canada

  Chapter 1

  The old merry-go-round picked up speed, ancient gears grinding as black smoke spewed from the die-sel engine and clouded the summer-blue Oregon sky.

  Shawna McGuire clung to the neck of her wooden mount and glanced over her shoulder. Her heart swelled at the sight of Parker Harrison. Tall, with the broad shoulders of a natural athlete and brown hair streaked gold by the sun, he sat astride a glossy striped tiger. His blue eyes were gazing possessively at her and a camera swung from his neck.

  Shawna grinned shamelessly. Tomorrow morning she and Parker would be married!

  The carousel spun faster. Colors of pink, blue, and yellow blurred together.

  "Reach, Shawna! Come on, you can do it!" Parker yelled, his deep voice difficult to hear above the piped music of the calliope and the sputtering engine.

  Grinning, her honey-gold hair billowing away from her face, she saw him wink at her, then focus his camera and aim.

  "Go for it, Doctor!" he called.

  The challenge was on and Shawna glanced forward again, her green eyes fixed on the brass ring with fluttering pastel ribbons, the prize that hung precariously near the speeding carousel. She stretched her fingers, grabbed as she passed the ring and swiped into the air, coming up with nothing and nearly falling off her painted white stallion in the bargain. She heard Parker's laughter and looked back just in time to see him snatch the prize. A big, gloating smile spread easily across his square jaw and the look he sent her made her heart pound wildly.

  She thought about her plans for the wedding the following morning. It was almost too good to be true. In less than twenty-four hours, under the rose arbor at Pioneer Church, she'd become Mrs. Parker Harrison and they would be bound for a week-long honeymoon in the Caribbean! No busy hospital schedules, no double shifts, no phones or patients—just Parker.

  She glimpsed Parker stuffing the ring and ribbons into the front pocket of his jeans as the merry-go-round slowed.

  "That's how it's done," he said, cupping his hands over his mouth so that she could hear him.

  "Insufferable, arrogant—" she muttered, but a dimple creased her cheek and she laughed gaily, clasping her fingers around the post supporting her mount and tossing back her head. Her long hair brushed against her shoulders and she could hear the warm sound of Parker's laughter. She was young and in love—nothing could be more perfect.

  When the ride ended she climbed off her glazed white horse and felt Parker's strong arms surround her. "That was a feeble attempt if I ever saw one," he whispered into her ear as he lifted her to the ground.

  "We all can't be professional athletes," she teased, looking up at him through gold-tipped lashes. "Some of us have to set goals, you know, to achieve higher intellectual and humanistic rewards."

  "Bull!"

  "Bull?" she repeated, arching a golden brow.

  "Save that for someone who'll believe it, Doctor. I won and you're burned."

  "Well, maybe just a little," she admitted, her eyes shining. "But it is comforting to know that should I ever quit my practice, and if you gave up completely on tennis, we could depend on your income as a professional ring-grabber."

  "I'll get you for that one, Dr. McGuire," he promised, squeezing her small waist, his hand catching in the cotton folds of her sundress. "And my vengeance will be swift and powerful and drop you to your knees!"

  "Promises, promises!" she quipped, dashing away from him and winding quickly through the crowd. Dry grass brushed against her ankles and several times her sandals caught on an exposed pebble, but she finally reached a refreshment booth with Parker right on her heels. "A bag of buttered popcorn and a sack of peanuts," she said to the vendor standing under the striped awnings. She felt out of breath and flushed, and her eyes glimmered mischievously. "And this guy," she motioned to Parker as he approached, "will foot the bill."

  "Henpecked already," Parker muttered, delving into his wallet and handing a five-dollar bill to the vendor. Someday—" he said, blue eyes dancing as he shucked open a peanut and tossed the nut into his mouth.

  "Someday what?" she challenged, her pulse leaping when his eyes fixed on her lips. For a minute she thought he was going to kiss her right there in the middle of the crowd. If he did, she wouldn't stop him. She couldn't. She loved him too much.

  "Just you wait, lady—" he warned, his voice low and throaty, the vein in the side of his neck pulsing.

  Shawna's heart began to thud crazily.

  "For what?"

  A couple of giggling teenage girls approached, breaking the magical spell. "Mr. Harrison?" the taller, red-haired girl asked, while her friend in braces blushed.

  Parker looked over his shoulder and twisted around. "Yes?"

  "I told you it was him!" the girl in braces said, nearly jumping up and down in her excitement. Her brown eyes gleamed in anticipation.

  "Could we, uh, would you mind—" the redhead fumbled in her purse "—could we get your autograph?"

  "Sure," Parker said, taking the scraps of paper and pen that had been shoved into his hand and scribbling out his name.

  "I'm Sara and this is Kelly. Uh—Sara without an 'h.' "

  "Got it!" Parker finished writing.

  "Is, um, Brad here?"

  " 'Fraid not," Parker admitted, the corner of his mouth lifting as he snapped the cap back onto the pen.

  "Too bad," Sara murmured, obviously disappointed as she tucked her pen and paper into her purse.

  But Kelly smiled widely, displaying the wires covering her teeth. "Gee, thanks!"

  The two girls waved and took off, giggling to themselves.

  "The price of fame," Parker said teasingly.

  "Not too bad for a has-been," Shawna commented dryly, unable to hide the pride in her voice. "But it didn't hurt that you're Brad Lomax's coach. He's the star now, you know."

  Parker grinned crookedly. "Admit it, McGuire, you're still sore 'cause you didn't get the ring." Draping his arm possessively around her shoulders, he hugged her close.

  "Maybe just a little," she said with a happy sigh. The day had been perfect despite the humidity. High overhead, the boughs of tall firs swayed in the sultry summer breeze and dark clouds drifted in from the west.

  Shawna's feet barely hit the ground as they walked through the "Fair from Yesteryear." Sprawled over several acres of farmland in the foothills of the Cascade Mountains, the dun-colored tents, flashy rides, and booths were backdropped by spectacular mountains. Muted calliope music filled the summer air, and barkers, hawking their wares and games, shouted over the noise of the crowd. The smells of horses, sawdust, popcorn, and caramel wafted through the crowded, tent-lined fields that served as fair grounds.

  "Want to test your strength?" Shawna asked, glancing up at Parker and pointing to a lumberjack who was hoisting a heavy mallet over his head. Swinging the hammer with all of his might, the brawny man grunted loudly. The mallet crashed against a springboard and hurled a hearty weight halfway up a tall pole.

  Parker's lips curved cynically. "I'll pass. Don't want to ruin my tennis arm, you know."

  "Sure."

  Parker ran his fingers through his sun-streaked hair. "There is another reason," he admitted.

  She arched an eyebrow quizzically. "Which is
?"

  "I think I'll save my strength for tomorrow night." His voice lowered and his eyes darkened mysteriously. "There's this certain lady who's expecting all of my attention and physical prowess."

  "Is that right?" She popped a piece of popcorn into his mouth and grinned. "Then you'd better not disappoint her."

  "I won't," he promised, his gaze shifting to her mouth.

  Shawna swallowed with difficulty. Whenever he looked at her that way, so sensual and determined, her heart always started beating a rapid double-time. She had to glance away, over his shoulder to a short, plump woman who was standing in front of a tent.

  Catching Shawna's eye, the woman called, "How about I read your fortune?" With bright scarves wrapped around her head, painted fingernails, and dangling hooped earrings, she waved Shawna and Parker inside.

  "I don't know—"

  "Why not?" Parker argued, propelling her into the darkened tent. Smelling of sawdust and cloying perfume, the tent was dark and close. Shawna sat on a dusty pillow near a small table and wondered what had possessed her to enter. The floor was covered with sawdust and straw, the only illumination coming from a slit in the top of the canvas. The place gave her the creeps.

  Placing a five-dollar bill on the corner of the table, Parker sat next to Shawna, one arm still draped casually over her shoulders, his long legs crossed Indian style.

  The money quickly disappeared into the voluminous folds of the Gypsy woman's skirt as she settled onto a mound of pillows on the other side of the table. "You first?" she asked, flashing Shawna a friendly, gold-capped smile.

  Shrugging, Shawna glanced at Parker before meeting the Gypsy woman's gaze. "Sure. Why not?"

  "Good!" Lady Fate clapped her wrinkled palms together. "Now, let me read your palm." Taking Shawna's hand in hers, she gently stroked the smooth skin, tracing the lines of Shawna's palm with her long fingers.

  "I see you have worked long and hard in your job."

  That much was true, Shawna thought wryly. She'd spent more hours than she wanted to count as a bartender while going to college and medical school. It had been years of grueling work, late shifts, and early morning classes, but finally, just this past year, she'd become a full-fledged internist. Even now, juggling time between her clinic and the hospital, she was working harder than she'd ever expected.

  "And you have a happy family."

  "Yes," Shawna admitted proudly. "A brother and my parents."

  The woman nodded, as if she saw their faces in Shawna's palm. "You will live a long and fruitful life," she said thickly and then her fingers moved and she traced another line on Shawna's hand, only to stop short. Her face clouded, her old lips pursed and she dropped Shawna's wrist as quickly as she had taken it earlier. "Your time is over," she said gently, kindness sparking in her old brown eyes.

  "What?"

  "Next," Lady Fate said, calling toward the flap used as a door.

  "That's all?" Shawna repeated, surprised. She didn't know much about fortune-telling, but she'd just begun to enjoy the game and some of her five-dollar future was missing.

  "Yes. I've told you everything. Now, if you'll excuse me—"

  "Wait a minute. What about my love life?" Glancing at Parker in the shadowed room, Shawna winked.

  Lady Fate hesitated.

  "I thought you could see everything," Shawna said. "That's what your sign says."

  "There are some things better left unknown," the woman whispered softly as she started to stand.

  "I can handle it," Shawna said, but felt a little uneasy.

  "Really, you don't want to know," Lady Fortune declared, pursing her red lips and starting to stand.

  "Of course I do," Shawna insisted. Though she didn't really believe in any of this mumbo jumbo, she wanted to get her money's worth. "I want to know everything." Shawna thrust her open palm back to the woman.

  "She's very stubborn," Parker interjected.

  "So I see." The fortune teller slowly sat down on her pillows as she closed Shawna's fingers, staring straight into her eyes. "I see there is a very important man in your life—you love him dearly, too much, perhaps."

  "And?" Shawna asked, disgusted with herself when she felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle with dread.

  "And you will lose him," the woman said sadly, glancing at Parker and then standing to brush some of the straw from her skirt. "Now go."

  "Come on," Parker said, his eyes glinting mischievously. "It's time you got rid of that love of your life and started concentrating on me." He took Shawna by the hand and pulled her from the dark tent.

  Outside, the air was hot and muggy but a refreshing change from the sticky interior of the tiny canvas booth. "You set her up to that, didn't you?" Shawna accused, still uneasy as she glanced back at the fortune-teller's tent.

  "No way! Don't tell me you believed all of that baloney she tried to peddle you!"

  "Of course not, but it was kind of creepy." Shuddering, she rubbed her bare arms despite the heat.

  "And way off base." Laughing, he tugged on her hand and led her through a thicket of fir trees, away from the crowd and the circus atmosphere of the fair.

  The heavy boughs offered a little shade and privacy and cooled the sweat beading on the back of Shawna's neck.

  "You didn't believe her, did you?" he asked, his eyes delving deep into hers.

  "No, but—"

  "Just wait 'til the medical board gets wind of this!"

  She couldn't help but smile as she twisted her hair into a loose rope and held it over her head, and off her neck. "You're laughing at me."

  "Maybe a little." Stepping closer, he pinned her back against the rough bark of a Douglas fir, his arms resting lightly on her shoulders. "You deserve it, too, after all that guff you gave me about that damned brass ring."

  "Guilty as charged," she admitted. She let her hair fall free and wrapped her hands around his lean, hard waist. Even beneath his light shirt, she could feel the ripple of his muscles as he shifted.

  "Good." Taking the brass ring from his pocket, he slipped the oversized band onto her wrist. "With this ring, I thee wed," he said quietly, watching the ribbons flutter over her arm.

  Shawna had to blink back some stupid tears of happiness that wet her lashes. "I can't wait," she murmured, "for the real thing."

  "Neither can I." Placing his forehead against hers, he stared at the dimpled smile playing on her lips.

  Shawna's pulse leaped. His warm breath fanned her face, his fingers twined lazily in a long strand of her honey-gold hair and his mouth curved upward in a sardonic smile. "And now, Dr. McGuire, prepare yourself. I intend to have my way with you!" he said menacingly.

  "Right here?" she asked innocently.

  "For starters." He brushed his lips slowly over hers and Shawna sighed into his mouth.

  She felt warm all over and weak in the knees. He kissed her eyelids and throat and she moaned, parting her lips expectantly. His hands felt strong and powerful and she knew that Parker would always take care of her and protect her. Deep inside, fires of desire that only he could spark ignited.

  "I love you," she whispered, the wind carrying her words away as it lifted her hair away from her face.

  "And I love you." Raising his head, he stared into her passion-glazed eyes. "And tomorrow night, I'm going to show you just how much."

  "Do we really have to wait?" she whispered, disappointment pouting her lips.

  "Not much longer—but we had a deal, remember?"

  "It was stupid."

  "Probably," he agreed. "And it's been hell." His angular features grew taut. "But weren't you the one who said, 'Everything meaningful is worth the wait'?"

  "That's a butchered version of it, but yes," she said.

  "And we've made it this far."

  "It's been agony," she admitted. "The next time I have such lofty, idealistic and stupid ideas, go ahead and shoot me."

  Grinning, he placed a kiss on her forehead. "I suppose this means that I'll have to give
up my mistress."

  "Your what!" she sputtered, knowing that he was teasing. His mistress! This mystery woman—a pure fantasy—had always been a joke between them, a joke that hurt more than it should have. "Oooh, you're absolutely the most arrogant, self-centered, egotistical—"

  Capturing her wrists, he held them high over her head with one hand. "Go on," he urged, eyes slowly inching down her body, past her flashing green eyes and pursed lips, to the hollow of her throat where her pulse was fluttering rapidly, then lower still, to the soft mounds of her breasts, pushed proudly forward against apricot-colored cotton, rising and falling with each of her shallow breaths.

  "—self-important, presumptuous, insolent bastard I've ever met!"

  Lowering his head, he kissed the sensitive circle of bones at the base of her throat and she felt liquid inside. "Leave anything out?" he asked, his breath warm against her already overheated skin.

  "A million things!"

  "Such as?"

  "Mistress," she repeated and then sucked in a sharp breath when she felt his moist tongue touch her throat. "Stop it," she said weakly, wanting to protest but unable.

  "Aren't you the woman who was just begging for more a few minutes ago?"

  "Parker—"

  Then he cut off her protest with his mouth slanting swiftly over hers, his body pressed urgently against her. He kissed her with the passion that she'd seen burning in him ever since the first time they'd met. Her back was pinned to the trunk of the tree, her hands twined anxiously around his neck, wanton desire flowing from his lips to hers.

  His hips were thrust against hers and she could feel the intensity of his passion, his heat radiating against her. "Please—" she whispered and he groaned.

  His tongue rimmed her lips and then tasted of the sweetness within her open mouth.

  "Parker—" She closed her eyes and moaned softly.

  Suddenly every muscle in his body tensed and he released her as quickly as he'd captured her. Swearing, he stepped away from her. "You're dangerous, you know that, don't you?" His hands were shaking when he pushed the hair from his eyes. "I—I think we'd better go," he said thickly, clearly trying to quell the desire pounding in his brain.