THE COWBOY FLING

by Dawn Atkins

  He had sawdust in his hair and he looked adorably mussed, too. She realized she'd rather have Max McLane in a pile of hay in the barn on Friday night than all the flaming flan in the world. Best of all would be to have Max and flaming flan.

  "About time," Ramón said, catching sight of her through the pass-through. "Taste this." He handed out a ladle full of a dark brown gravy. "More," he said.

  She sipped the warm liquid. It was spicy chocolate, buttery and rich. Perfect. "Mmm," she said. She looked up to catch Max's eyes on her.

  "Want a taste?" she asked him. She held her hand under the brimming ladle, careful not to spill, and moved it closer. Max's lips parted, ready to accept what she offered and their eyes locked. The moment froze in time, warm and intimate. Lacey's insides sizzled. Max's eyes were as dark as the chili-chocolate sauce she held out to him, and she felt like she might dissolve like the sauce on his tongue.

  Still staring at her, Max sipped the sauce. "Mmm," he said, meaning what he was looking at as much as what he was tasting, she could tell. Then he closed his eyes with the pleasure of it. Would he do that during sex? Would he consider her delicious?

  "Diós mío," Ramón muttered. "Getta room."

  Lacey blushed and she could swear Max did, too. "That tastes fabulous, Ramón," she said in as normal a voice as she could manage, handing the ladle back. "Definitely add that to the menu."

  "Ramón's some chef," Max said to her in an ordinary voice, clearly trying to change the subject.

  "The best. He's even got the temperament." She couldn't catch Max's eye. He'd been stubbornly distant since the ice-bag incident. All she needed was one more kiss and she'd have him, but she wasn't about to attack him. The timing had to be right.

  "I ordered the sound system we talked about," he said.

  "Can we afford it?" Anxiety pinged inside her.

  "I got a great deal on some refurbished equipment."

  "Maybe you should walk me through the budget."

  "I tried to a week ago, but you were working on the stage arch."

  "I know," she said. "I shouldn't be so hands-on." It was just so fun watching the way the wood fit in place as they'd planned when they'd cut it.

  "You're a wonder with a buzz saw, Lacey." His smile teased her.

  "I guess so." She frowned. She'd probably gotten too caught up in the building process, leaving the budget in Max's hands. On the other hand, he seemed happier with a spreadsheet than a power sander.

  "The budget's fine," he said. Don't you trust me? was the question in his eyes.

  She trusted him, but maybe she'd depended on him too much. This was her project and her career hung on its success. "I think I need to get up to speed on where we are," she said firmly. "The dollars and cents of it all."

  "Okay. Whatever you want Jasper wants to talk to you about something in his studio. Why don't you go check on that and while you're gone, I'll pull something together?" He sounded weary.

  "Okay," she said, doubt nibbling at her. Why was he so reluctant? Was there bad news?

  * * *

  The studio was starting to take shape, Lacey saw, when she walked through the wooden door into the huge hut – a giant semicircular tunnel of corrugated metal. Jasper had set up his old sculptures at the front end and his equipment and workbenches were at the back of the space, which echoed like an airplane hangar.

  The sound of pounding on metal led her to Jasper, who was banging away on the underside of a giant bullfrog made from a kettledrum and assorted pieces of metal.

  It was a little too warm, though, she thought, for the hot work he was doing. She'd have to get a couple more cooling units. Ka-ching.

  "You've done a lot, Jasper," she yelled over the pounding.

  Jasper slid out from under the bullfrog and sat up. Sweat rolled down his temples and dripped from his nose. "Hey, girl!"

  "The place looks great," she said. Looking at his heat-red face she decided to get the units in ASAP.

  "Getting there," he said, grinning from ear to ear. "I'm thinking skylights would help – bring in more light, give a more open feeling. What do you think?"

  "Skylights?" Double ka-ching. "We could look into that, I guess – once I check the budget. I want to get more cooling for sure."

  Jasper whipped a yellow paper from his overall pocket and handed it to her. "Here's the estimate," he said.

  "Oh." She studied the paper. Ouch. Then her eye caught scrawled words in the instructions portion of the paper. She looked up at Jasper. "They're coming tomorrow?"

  "I can call and cancel if you think it's too much."

  "No. It's a great idea," she said weakly. She paused and looked around. There was already an impressive amount of sculpture in the space. "Actually, you'll have this place filled up in no time," she said, turning back to him.

  He shrugged. "It's nice to be able to stretch out. I've got that Gremlin chassis coming next week. Can't wait to start building on that. I'm thinking prehistoric turtle."

  She looked around again, more deliberately this time, as an idea began to take shape in her mind. "You know, Jasper, you've practically got a whole show here."

  "Funny you would say that," Jasper said, a flicker of interest in his eyes. "One of my old art co-op buds was out here yesterday to see what I'm doing. He had the owner of the Art To Go Gallery with him. The guy said he'd had some people asking for work from me. It could have been B.S., though."

  "I bet not. The city of Tucson doesn't commission work from nobodies. You're practically an icon, Uncle Jasper. I bet you have a following you don't even know about."

  "You're not exactly objective, Lacey. You're my biggest fan." He looked at her with affection. "Though a show might be fun…"

  "A show, yes, but I'm getting an even better idea." She paused, as the picture formed in her mind. "Why don't we turn this place into a gallery?"

  "A gallery? Nah, that's too complicated. I'm no business guy."

  "You hire people for the business end, Jasper. You're the artist." She surveyed the space, imagining a crowd of patrons admiring his barbed wire Eiffel Tower and giant ice-cream cone, wandering from his kettledrum bullfrog to the appliance totem pole.

  It would be fabulous. She began to walk forward, talking as she moved. "We could partition off the studio area – use some glass refrigerator blocks maybe… Create a dropped ceiling so you could suspend lighter pieces overhead." She took a few steps forward. "We'd build the reception desk up front. Leave the curved walls, but use sheetrock to attach wall sculptures. It would still have an industrial look, but with the Jasper Wellington whimsy."

  The vision complete, she turned on her heels to face him. "We could do it. It would take a couple months to build. And, of course you'd have to renew your contacts in the art community, get some buzz going. Heck, you could host other artists, too. What do you think?"

  "I don't know, Lacey." He shook his head. "I'm having fun now. That's enough."

  "Don't sell yourself short, Jasper. This could be great. It's the obvious next step."

  "Honey, you just worry about the café," Jasper said. "I'm cookin' with gas right now. Everything's hunkydory. Well, when the skylights are put in. And maybe some track lighting … and some spots."

  Somehow, she knew Jasper's "hunky-dory" would cost a chunk of change. On the other hand, if the studio became a gallery, she might be able to get a business loan and roll the skylights and AC and other enhancements into the loan. "I'll talk to Max about the budget," she said.

  "I'm really fine," he said. "Really. Once we get a new lathe in here, of course…"

  She hoped desperately Max hadn't been hiding bad financial news from her, because she'd just discovered a fabulous new investment that, knowing Jasper, would get pricier by the minute.

  * * *

  When Max ran through the spreadsheet with her an hour later, Lacey was delighted to find the budget looked fat. "I was sure we'd overspent," she said to him, handing him a plate of warmed-up tamale experiments Ramón had left for th
em to sample. She sat on the counter stool beside him and took a swallow from one of the long-necked Tecates beers she'd fetched for them.

  "It worked out," Max said, shrugging. "You just didn't realize all the, uh, resources you had."

  "Maybe not." She frowned. She could have sworn the advertising budget he'd shown her was bigger than before. And weren't some costs missing? She wished she'd tracked things more closely.

  "I don't know how you did it," she said slowly. Could Max have made a mistake? She made a mental note to check her earlier cost projections.

  "Like I said, it's a numbers thing."

  "I guess so." No. Have a little faith. Max was her employee and he'd just done what she'd assigned him to do. "Well, you're just a wonder with numbers, that's all I can say."

  "It wasn't anything. I mean it." He acted like he'd done something wrong – cheated her – instead of having performed a budgetary miracle.

  "Seriously, Max. Don't be so modest."

  "Believe me, I'm not."

  "You know, with your skills, you could be a bookkeeper in a heartbeat. I can give a great recommendation, if you wanted a job in—"

  "No, thanks," he said.

  "I mean it. You could easily handle—"

  "I don't want that kind of work, Lacey," he said, cutting her off, his teeth gritted. "I have no interest in business crap."

  "Oh, I'm sorry," she said. His fierceness startled her. "Of course, you're doing what you want to do. I didn't mean to imply that being a cowboy wasn't great or anything. I—"

  "Forget it. It was a few calculations." He gave her a tight smile. "No big deal."

  "Sure. I guess I just got excited that we're financially solid because I've got a plan for Jasper's place." Her enthusiasm for the project instantly returned, stronger than before now that Max had relieved her budget worries.

  "You've got a plan? From what I've seen, Jasper has more plans than anyone needs." His earlier tension became amusement.

  "He wants to put some skylights in the studio and he needs more cooling units. But I was looking at all the sculpture he's already got and realized we could easily turn the place into a gallery."

  "A gallery?"

  "Yes. He's been out of circulation for a couple of years, but he used to have regular shows in the downtown galleries – in Phoenix, too. At the University of Arizona and Arizona State, even once at the airport. He mentioned that people still ask about his work. This would really give him a boost. He loves his sculpture so much."

  "Interesting…" Max said, watching her closely, his eyes a little glazed.

  "It's a great idea, I think. And it'll give Jasper a new lease on life. I've been thinking that he might have been depressed since his leg-break three years ago. And, here's where you can help, Max. I was thinking we could apply for a business loan to reduce our capital outlay. Also, I was thinking that the Arizona Commission on the Arts might be able to help with a grant or something, especially if he started teaching more aspiring disadvantaged kids like Ramón…" She stopped rattling on and looked at him, "So, what do you think? Max?"

  Max looked peculiar. His eyes were lit with tenderness and his smile was almost … well, dreamy.

  "You're looking at me funny," she said.

  "I'm just listening to you, feeling your enthusiasm, that's all."

  "Well, cut it out, okay? It's distracting." The last thing she needed when she'd decided to stay in business mode was for Max to look dreamy-eyed at her.

  "Sure. No problem." He blinked away the look and composed his face.

  "I don't know how I can pull this off when there's so much to do at the coffeehouse." She sighed.

  "Really?"

  "Oh, yeah. I've got to schedule health and fire inspections and hire waitresses and set up advertising and audition bands."

  But as she talked, instead of feeling burdened by the tasks ahead, she felt energized. "There's just a ton of stuff left. Oh, here's an idea. Ramón's sister needs a job. She's into art, so I bet she'd love being the receptionist at Jasper's gallery. Perfect. His younger brothers could use work, too, Ramón says. Maybe they can start out in the kitchen. Helping at first, maybe washing dishes, then work up from there. If they want, I mean. What do you think?"

  Max had cupped his chin in his hands and his gaze was locked somewhere around her mouth.

  "You're doing it again," she said.

  "Doing what?"

  "Looking at me that way." She frowned, suspicious. "You're not about to tell me I'm cute, are you?"

  "I wouldn't dare," he said, holding up his hands in defense. "I just can't help looking at you. You amaze me."

  "I do?" Blush heated her cheeks.

  "Yes, you do. You work so hard at this. And you're so … dogged. Indomitable, really. I admire that. And on top of everything, you're helping your uncle."

  "I try." His praise went straight to her heart.

  "And you'll succeed, too."

  "You think so?"

  "I know so. And if your brother can't see that, then he's an idiot." His words were fierce, but his expression was tender. He lifted his beer bottle in a toast. "Here's to you, Lacey," he said.

  "And to you, Max," she said. "You've done a lot for me." She clinked her long-neck against his. They both took a swallow.

  There was a long silence. Their business was concluded, but neither seemed inclined to leave. Lacey felt the familiar man-woman awareness rise between them, like smoke swirling from an unquenchable fire.

  Max cleared his throat. "Anyway, I think we've both done great in controlling our … uh … urges. That would have been a big mistake."

  "You really think so?"

  "Oh, yeah." He made it sound so final. Like he was completely finished with her. As if sitting so close together on counter stools, their knees nearly touching, had no effect on him at all. Meanwhile, she was practically tingling from the closeness of him. "Here's to self-control," Max said, lifting his bottle for another toast.

  Her heart sank. Maybe it should be over. How long could she keep trying to seduce him without humiliating herself? It probably was time to give up. "Here's to it," she said on a heavy sigh. What else could she say?

  At that moment, her eyes caught movement through the diner window. She watched in horror as a familiar BMW sedan pulled into the parking lot. Pierce. He'd come down here to see her, to talk her into getting back together. Great.

  "What's the matter?" Max asked. He started to turn to see what she was looking at.

  "N-n-nothing," she said, tugging on his arm so he looked her way. Pierce was getting out of the car. She had to fix this, once and for all. Prove to Pierce she meant what she said. And she knew exactly how to do it. If Max would cooperate…

  "Listen, Max. Remember I told you I broke up with my boyfriend? Well, he's coming here right now and I need you to—" Pierce was coming up the porch steps. "Oh, hell." Lacey hopped from her stool onto Max's lap, linked her fingers behind his neck and kissed him firmly.

  "Whada yu doon?" he asked, the words garbled against her mouth.

  She pulled back long enough to say, "Play along with me, okay? Here he comes." She had to clear all sensible thoughts from Max's head, so she gave him the most lascivious, tongue-wild kiss she could manage, mashing her breasts against his chest, sliding one hand down into the back pocket of his jeans and squeezing his tight butt.

  To her immense relief, Max gave a groan, then kissed her back. Really kissed her, holding her against him with the power of a man who could tame a horse or any wild thing he came across. He kissed her thoroughly, achingly, until she felt scalded, practically branded. If Pierce wasn't about to push open that door, she'd let this moment go and go.

  The door clanged and Lacey tightened her grip on the back of Max's neck, so he would hold the kiss long enough for Pierce to get the picture.

  But Max was having none of that. He reached up and pried her fingers away from his neck and used one booted foot to push their stool to face the man who'd just entered.

&
nbsp; "Pierce, what are you doing here?" Lacey asked, acting breathlessly surprised.

  "I came to see you." Pierce frowned. "But seem to have caught you at a bad time." There was a flicker of hurt on his face, which she regretted. She didn't want to rub it in. She just wanted him to believe her.

  "This is Max McLane," she said. "And we're together."

  She felt Max go tense.

  "Max, this is Pierce Winslow, my ex-boyfriend."

  Max tilted his hat at Pierce and, after a pause, his other arm went protectively around Lacey's waist. Whew! He was going along with her. A good thing, since she hadn't had time to run through his lines with him

  She looked up into Max's face to thank him. The smoke of desire still swirled in his eyes, along with annoyance. He didn't like what she'd done. She'd have to apologize later. Right now, she had to make things clear to Pierce. "I'm sorry you had to see this, but at least now you'll believe that it's over between us."

  "Could I speak to you in private?" Pierce asked her.

  "We've been through it all before. Anything you have to say to me, you can say in front of Max."

  Pierce looked Max over, angry and suspicious. What if he picked a fight with Max? That would be awful! All the squash playing in the world wouldn't give Pierce the strength he'd need to hold his own with a guy who wrestled steers for a living.

  Evidently, that fact dawned on him, because he turned to her. "What are you trying to prove?" Pierce asked fiercely.

  "I'm not trying to prove anything."

  "Bull—"

  "Stop right there, mister." Max was mad as hell that Lacey had dragged him into her little charade, but her fingers dug into his side like she needed him, so he couldn't let her down. Not to mention the fact that the kiss she'd delivered had made his life rush past his eyes. He'd wanted to make love to her on the spot. So, for Lacey's sake, he'd make this dweeb clear out.

  "Seems to me the lady here has made her point," Max said in his best Randy-the-Rodeo-Man tone – half growl, half threat. "I believe she'd like you to leave. I expect you to do that. Now."