And the Winner--Weds!

by Robin Wells

  Kyle pulled out a chair and Frannie lowered herself into it, letting the conversation at the table buzz around her. The waitress came and took their order. Frannie tried not to look at Austin, but she seemed unable to help herself. She watched the blonde hand him a piece of paper. She saw him scribble something on it, then hand it back to her. Probably a phone number, Frannie thought. A hot poker of jealousy burned in her chest.

  Kyle leaned toward her, blocking her view. “I think I can handle this song, if you’d like to dance.”

  Frannie realized the band was playing a slow ballad. After urging everyone to continue the evening because she felt like dancing, she couldn’t very well refuse. “Sure.”

  She rose from the chair and let Kyle lead her to the dance floor, but she was no longer interested in dancing. She was only interested in the tall man across the room with the vivid blue eyes that seemed to follow her every move.

  “Say, aren’t those two of the gals from the bed-and-breakfast?” Tommy Deshaw angled his bottle of beer toward the table with Summer and Jasmine.

  Austin took a swig of his beer. “Yep.”

  “Wow, they sure look swell. Musta been some kinda fancy shindig some where in town tonight. I wonder where their cousin is. You know—the one who threw egg on your face and tumbled into your lap at the bank and nearly got killed savin’ a dog in traffic.” Tommy chuckled and shook his head.

  “She’s out on the dance floor.”

  “She is?” Tommy craned his head. “Where?”

  “There. In the red dress.”

  “That’s her? That’s Little Miss Hap?” Tommy stared, bug-eyed, then let out a low, appreciative whistle. “I wouldn’ have recognized her. Man, she sure cleans up nice.”

  “No kidding.”

  “Wonder who she’s dancin’ with?”

  Austin was wondering the same thing. He didn’t like the way the man’s hand rested on her waist, or the goofy grin on his face as he looked down at her. He didn’t like the man at all, for no other reason than the fact that he was dancing with Frannie.

  “I don’t know who it is right now,” Austin said, thrusting his beer into Tommy’s hand, “but it’s about to be me.” Striding purposefully onto the dance floor, Austin dodged his way through the crowd and tapped the tuxedo-clad man on the shoulder.

  Frannie’s dance partner turned around, his expression startled. Austin looked past him to Frannie. Her eyes were wide, her lips slightly parted.

  “Mind if I cut in?”

  “Well, uh…”

  Before the man could form a response, Austin swept Frannie into his arms and guided her to the far side of the dance floor. “Hey, there.”

  “Hey, yourself.”

  It was there again, that sharp, electric attraction he’d felt when she’d landed on his lap that day at the bank—an attraction so keen that everything else receded into the fuzzy distance, everything but the warmth of her skin and the glow of her eyes.

  The scent of her perfume invaded his senses, curling around him like a magic spell. “You look gorgeous.”

  Frannie’s lips curved up. Austin found himself staring at them in fascination, wondering how they would feel under his.

  “You’re just saying that because I don’t have any goo on my face. Or do I? Maybe I should go check.”

  Austin tightened his hold on her. Damn, but she felt good—warm and soft and silk-covered. The desire to get closer pulled at him like undertow. “I don’t want you to go anywhere.”

  He heard the little hitch in her breath, felt her fingers clutch at his back, and it struck him as intensely erotic, the kind of response she might make during lovemaking. Arousal, strong and hot, flamed within him. He moved his hand low along her spine, aligning her body more closely with his.

  She sighed and shifted, pressing her breasts against his chest.

  Oh, criminy. This was torture—hot, sweet torture. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry, and searched for something to say, for something, anything, to divert his attention from the entirely inappropriate response his body was having to her. “So what’s the special occasion?”

  “Hmm?” Her eyes held a dark, desire-dazed look. A fresh flash of heat flared inside him. So she felt it, too.

  “You’re all dressed up.”

  “Oh. We went to the Whitehorn Ball. It’s an annual benefit for the hospital.”

  “Who’s your date?”

  “Kyle Johnson.”

  “Are you two serious?”

  “Oh, no.” Frannie’s hair brushed his cheek as she shook her head. “He’s a blind date my cousin fixed me up with. They’re both doctors.”

  An irrational sense of relief filled his chest. “Well, it’s good to know there’s a doctor in the house.” Because the way you’re affecting me, sweetheart, I’m likely to need one before this dance is over.

  “So what about you?” she asked. “Who are you with?”

  The warm weight of her breasts against his chest made it impossible to think coherently. “Tommy.”

  She lifted one eyebrow. “I meant, the woman.”

  “What woman?”

  She pulled back and looked at him archly, as if she thought he was trying to pull a fast one. “The blonde you were talking to when I came in.”

  “Oh, her. I don’t even know her name. She just wanted an autograph.”

  “An autograph,” Frannie repeated softly. “Do a lot of people ask for one?”

  Austin lifted a shoulder. “A lot more than I’d like.”

  Frannie’s eyes rested on him. “Sounds like you’re not all that comfortable with your celebrity status.”

  He lifted a shoulder. “I don’t like folks to make a big fuss.”

  “You don’t like being the center of attention?”

  “Not unless it’s from someone I want attention from.” He pulled her closer. “Like you.”

  He wasn’t sure, but he thought he felt a shiver pass through her. He definitely heard her sigh, because he felt the warmth of her breath on his neck. She rested her cheek against his chin and let him rock her to the music, which ended all too soon.

  He reluctantly pulled back as the last note faded and the crowd applauded.

  “I’ll walk you back to your table,” Austin said.

  Frannie could tell by the tight look on Kyle’s face that he wasn’t happy to see Austin accompany her back to the table, but he was too much of a gentleman to make an issue of it. With a forced smile, Kyle stood and pulled out her chair as she and Austin approached.

  Austin stuck his hand out to Kyle. “Thanks for letting me cut in on you out there. I’m Austin Parker.”

  “So I’ve heard.” Kyle gestured to Gavin. “Seems you’ve got a big fan here.”

  Gavin was immediately on his feet, his hand out stretched. “Gavin Night hawk. Around here I’m better known as Summer’s husband.” Gavin grabbed an extra chair from the next table. “Please, have a seat and join us.”

  “Well, all right, if you’ll let me buy you a round.”

  Austin sat between Frannie and Gavin. Kyle placed his arm territorially around the back of Frannie’s chair.

  “I saw the TV coverage of your race in Atlanta,” Gavin said, leaning forward. “Man, that was something, the way you pulled into the lead at the last moment.”

  The conversation was off and running as if a checkered flag had been dropped. Frannie was relieved, because she felt far too rattled to speak.

  Never in her life had she felt anything like the surge of attraction she’d felt in Austin’s arms on the dance floor. He made her feel weak-kneed and foggy-headed and incredibly, meltingly aroused. Even now, it was hard not to gravitate toward him, like metal shavings to a magnet.

  Frannie realized she was actually leaning toward Austin. She started to straighten, but as she pulled away, the hard, warm weight of his thigh against hers under the table made her freeze. The next thing she knew, his hand rested on her leg, just above her knee. Shock waves of pleasure rolled through her. The secre
t, unexpected intimacy was like forbidden fruit, delicious and irresistible.

  She suddenly realized Kyle’s hand had slid from the back of her chair to her neck.

  “I got shortchanged on that last dance,” he said. “Don’t you think you owe me another?”

  On the other side of her body, Austin gave her leg a little squeeze. A shiver of pleasure coursed through Fannie. It was hard to act normal as she turned to Kyle and forced a smile. “Sure. And I’m ready to pay up.”

  Austin’s hand slipped slowly off her leg as she rose. She could still feel the heat of his hand as she stepped into Kyle’s arms and let him lead her in a two-step. She couldn’t help but compare the difference in the way it felt, dancing with the two men. She tried to make casual conversation, but her eyes kept drifting to the table. Austin was watching her, his eyes licking over her like blue flames.

  The other two couples were on the dance floor when Kyle and Frannie returned to the table. The prospect of sitting alone between Kyle and Austin made her palms begin to sweat. With a quick, “Excuse me,” she grabbed her small beaded bag and fled to the safety of the ladies’ room.

  She hid out until she heard the song end. Hoping that either Summer or Jasmine would have returned to the table, she stepped out of the restroom door—and ran smack into Austin.

  Her heart pounded hard as he took her arm and began steering her toward the wall. “What are you doing?”

  “I need to talk to you for a minute.”

  “I—I really ought to get back to the table.” He stopped at the end of the small hallway that housed the rest rooms. “It’s okay. The doc’s outside, returning a call from his answering service.” Austin placed his hands on her upper arms. His fingers were warm, his touch gentle, yet Frannie felt as if he left a burning trail of heat as his fingers slid down her bare skin. “Look, I know you’re here with him tonight, so I won’t try to horn in, but I want to take you out. What are you doing tomorrow night?”

  Frannie’s heart pounded hard. Something about Austin scared her to death. The way she responded to him was so out of character, so strongly emotional, so completely illogical. “I don’t know…”

  What she didn’t know, she realized, was herself when she was around him. He brought out a side of her she’d never known, a sensual side so intense and compelling that she couldn’t trust her own judgment.

  “Well, then, I’ll tell you what you’re doing.” He trailed the back of his curved finger gently down her cheek. “You’re having dinner with me at the Lakeside Inn. I’ll pick you up at seven.” His finger continued its erotic path, trailing down to her mouth. He gently traced the outline of her bottom lip, then gave a slow smile and walked away.

  Frannie leaned against the wall, both terrified and thrilled. How in the world was she supposed to hold her own against a man like Austin?

  Seven

  Jasmine leaned over the front desk the next evening and tapped her wristwatch. “Frannie, it’s ten minutes until seven. Why on earth aren’t you dressed?”

  Frannie glanced up from the stack of receipts she was sorting, then looked down at her jeans. “I am dressed,” she said calmly.

  Jasmine rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. Dressed for your date with Austin.”

  Frannie turned back to the receipts. “I’m as a dressed as I’m going to get.”

  “Are you out of your mind? You’re wearing your oldest jeans and a baggy gray sweater, you don’t have on a lick of makeup, and you’re hiding behind your glasses again.”

  “This is me. This is how I am. If Austin doesn’t like it, well, that’s just too bad.” She entered the information from a pink receipt into the computer, trying to act more confident than she felt. “Besides, I’m not sure I’m going.”

  “Of course you’re going!” Circling the front desk, Jasmine charged toward her.

  “I never said I would. Austin didn’t actually ask.” Frannie clicked the computer mouse, pretending not to notice that her cousin had pulled up a stool, plopped herself at her elbow and was staring at her in disbelief.

  “And why on earth wouldn’t you? What possible objection could you have to Austin Parker?” Jasmine placed her hands on her hips and frowned indignantly. “Is he too nice, too charming, too famous, too wealthy or too good-looking?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes?” Jasmine’s voice was an incredulous shout.

  Frannie raised her finger to her mouth. “Keep it down, Jasmine. You’ll disturb the guests and Aunt Celeste.”

  “What’s with you, Frannie?” Jasmine grabbed the arms of Frannie’s chair and swiveled her around to face her. “Summer and I spent a lot of time making you over so you’d have some confidence and get a social life, and it worked better than any of us dreamed. The sexiest man ever to hit the state of Montana asked you out, and now you’re telling me you don’t think you’re going to go?”

  “That’s just it. Last night wasn’t me.” Frannie’s hand swept from her glasses to her jeans. “This is me.”

  “That was you last night, too.” Jasmine’s eyes flashed hotly, and her voice held a hard edge of insistence. “The only difference is, last night you were making an effort.”

  Frannie sighed. “Don’t you see, Jasmine? I can’t sustain that kind of effort, that kind of illusion, for long. I’m not a graceful, glamorous, outgoing person. I’m a shy, awkward, number-crunching bookworm. And sooner or later, any man who spends any time around me will discover that. And when he does, he’s bound to dump me for someone more exciting. I think it’ll hurt a whole lot less if it happens sooner rather than later.”

  Jasmine placed a hand on Frannie’s arm, her brow creased in concern. “Oh, Frannie, I can’t believe how you underestimate yourself! You’re letting one bad experience warp your outlook.”

  Maybe so, Frannie thought, but it was the self-protective thing to do. A man such as Austin Parker was not going to be interested in someone like her for long. And judging from the intensity of emotions he stirred inside her, he had the potential to break her heart ten times worse than Joe ever did.

  The loud chime of the doorbell broke her thoughts. Both Frannie and Jasmine turned in the direction of the front door.

  “That must be Austin. Everyone else just walks in,” Jasmine said. “Aren’t you going to answer it?”

  Obviously Jasmine had no intention of doing so. Frannie took a deep, steadying breath and rose from the computer. Despite her determination not to fuss with her appearance, she couldn’t keep from tugging at her sweater and smoothing her ponytail as she walked to the door.

  The sight of the tall, handsome man standing on the porch hit her like a blow to the solar plexus, knocking most the air out of her. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” He grinned, revealing a dimple on his right cheek. “May I come in?”

  Frannie realized she was just standing there, staring at him. She stepped back out of the way. “Of course.”

  He waved a greeting to Jasmine, who was standing behind the front desk, then settled his gaze back on Frannie. “Am I early?”

  Frannie hoped she didn’t look as nervous as she felt. Her heart was pounding and her palms were damp. “No. I think you’re right on time.”

  “Great.” He shoved a hand into the pocket of his khaki slacks. “So, are you ready?”

  Was he asking because he didn’t think she was? Frannie tugged at the sleeve of her sweater and eyed him suspiciously. “I never actually said I’d go out with you, you know. You didn’t exactly ask.”

  He grinned. “That’s because I didn’t want to give you an opportunity to say no.”

  Good heavens, but he had sexy eyes. It was hard to think when he turned them on her that way.

  He flashed that dimple again. “If you want to just stay here, though, that’s fine with me. We could order in a pizza, and just sit and talk.”

  Frannie pushed her glasses up higher on her nose, trying to decide what to make of him. Was he suggesting that they stay in because he didn’t want to be seen in
public with her? Maybe he thought being seen with someone so ordinary would be bad for his image, as Joe had thought all those years ago. The thought roused a stubborn streak within her.

  “No. Since you’re here, we might as well go ahead and go out.”

  “Okay.” He looked at her curiously, then gestured toward the door. “Well, then, shall we?”

  “You two have a good time,” Jasmine called.

  Frannie stiffly walked beside Austin out the door and across the porch. Part of her was thrilled to be with him, but another part, a self-protective part, was scared to death and wary. What on earth would they talk about?

  He led her to a black pickup truck parked in the drive, and she seized on it as a topic of conversation. “I thought you’d be in a racy red sports car,” she said as he opened the passenger door.

  He lifted his shoulders. “I get my fill of racing on the track. This is a lot more practical for running a ranch.” Slamming the door closed, he circled the truck and climbed in the driver’s seat. Frannie half expected him to lay rubber as he backed out of the drive, but he drove slowly and carefully.

  Frannie felt a disconcerting pull of attraction as she glanced at his profile. She was curious about him, curious why he’d moved here. “Tell me about your ranch. You said you raise horses?”

  He nodded. “Quarter horses.”

  “I would have expected a race car driver to raise Thoroughbreds.”

  “Nah. Too temperamental. Quarter horses are big, strong and smart. When they race, they run on a straightaway. It’s the horse that wins or loses a race, not the skill of the jockey.”

  “How many do you have?”

  “Just six right now. Three brood mares, two foals and a stallion. I’m trying to start a breeding operation. When I retire from racing, I’ll expand it into a training facility.”

  Frannie looked at him in surprise. “You’re thinking about retiring from racing?”

  Austin shrugged. “Every driver thinks about it, and sooner or later, most of them do. I’ve told myself a dozen times that I’ll quit after the next race. But then there’s another one, and, well…” He lifted his shoulders. “I know the smart thing to do is to quit while I’m ahead, but so far I just haven’t been able to bring myself to do it. I love the challenge of the sport. I’m beginning to think I probably won’t quit until I’m too old to handle the pressure.”