And the Winner--Weds!

by Robin Wells

  She stopped him by opening the door. “Good night,” she said softly.

  “Good night.” Austin watched her slip inside and close the door behind her. With a sigh, he turned and walked back to his truck.

  There was a warmth about Frannie that drew him like a moth to a flame. She was amusing and independent one minute, shy and defensive the next. She was sassy and sexy and smart as a whip, and he was determined to see her again.

  Frannie sat bolt upright in bed and looked around the darkened room. She thought she’d heard a blood-curdling scream, but the only sounds in the quiet bedroom were the pounding of her pulse and the rustling of the leaves in the tall oak outside the window.

  She must have been dreaming, she told herself, brushing the hair out of her face. A scream sure seemed out place among the dream fragments she remembered—dreams of Austin’s face and hands and lips, dreams of his kisses and caresses. There was plenty of material in that dream to make her heart race, but none of it seemed connected to a scream.

  Austin was turning her life upside down, she thought with a sigh, leaning back against the pillow propped against the mahogany headboard. Just thinking about the kisses they’d shared made her hot and restless. Throwing off the covers, she glanced at her bedside clock. Two in the morning. She’d be a wreck if she didn’t get some shut-eye. She’d already stayed up far too late, reliving every luscious detail of the evening.

  Punching her pillow, she lay back down. But she’d no sooner closed her eyes than another ear-splitting scream ripped through the air.

  Aunt Celeste! The scream was coming from her room.

  Grabbing her robe from the foot of the bed, Frannie dashed out the door and across the hall to her aunt’s room.

  The dim glow of a night-light revealed Celeste curled in a fetal position in the middle of her double bed. Frannie reached out and touched her. “Aunt Celeste?”

  The older woman grabbed her hand as if it were a lifeline. “Oh, Frannie. Is that you?”

  “Yes. Are you all right?”

  Jasmine darted into the room, her white night gown floating around her. “Mom? What’s wrong?” Flipping on a bedside lamp, she helped Celeste sit up. The older woman’s cheeks were wet and her hands trembled as she tried to brush away her tears.

  “What happened?” Jasmine asked.

  “I—I had a dream. Oh, girls, it was so awful!”

  Jasmine and Frannie exchanged a worried look. Jasmine sat on the bed and put her arms around Celeste, hugging her for a long moment. Frannie fetched a tissue from the nightstand and handed it to Celeste. Her aunt took it and wiped her eyes.

  “I’m sorry I awakened you. Oh, I hope I didn’t disturb the guests.”

  “I doubt if they can hear anything from this wing of the house,” Frannie reassured her.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Jasmine asked. “When I was a little girl, you used to tell me it helped to talk about nightmares.”

  Celeste took a deep breath and shuddered. “This was more than a nightmare. It was like a vision. It was so…so vivid. So real!”

  “It was just a dream,” Jasmine said soothingly. Celeste took another deep breath and dabbed at her eyes.

  “What was it about?” Frannie urged.

  Celeste leaned over to her nightstand and lit a white candle. It was her ritual after any of these nightmares. Her aunt rubbed some bergamot oil into her left hand, from a skeleton-shaped vial she’d brought back from Louisiana. Then, when she’d finished, she replied, “It was like a dream within a dream. I was in the house—you know, the one Yvette and Blanche and Jeremiah and I lived in.”

  “The old Kincaid mansion,” Frannie prompted.

  Celeste nodded. “I was in my old bedroom, in bed, in the middle of the night, and it started storming. Oh, it was a horrible storm! The thunder boomed like it was right overhead, and the lightning lit up the sky outside the window like it was high noon. And then I saw Blanche sitting at the foot of my bed, and she was like the ghost of Christmas past. She said she was going to show me some thing. And then she was gone, and I thought I heard Jeremiah yelling in another part of the house. So I went downstairs, and—” Celeste’s voice broke.

  “And what?” Jasmine urged.

  “And there was an intruder—a big man—and he was fighting Jeremiah. I walked into the room, and he had Jeremiah pinned to the floor. And then the fighting turned into the storm, and then the storm was inside the house. And the next thing I knew…” Her voice trailed away and she covered her face with her hands.

  “What?”

  Celeste’s hands moved to the side of her face. “Lightning struck the room and there was a horrible thunderclap, and then it was raining blood. Blood was everywhere. And I started screaming, and…” She inhaled a ragged breath. “And I guess that’s when I woke up.”

  “How horrible,” Jasmine murmured, rubbing Celeste’s arms. “But it was just a dream. You’re awake now and we’re with you, and everything is nice and safe.”

  “But it was so real—and so awful!”

  “No wonder it woke you,” Frannie remarked. “A dream like that would wake the dead.”

  Celeste’s gaze rested on her. Her eyes grew large. “I almost feel like that’s what’s happening.”

  A shiver coursed through Frannie. She should have thought before she’d spoken, given her aunt’s frail mental state. “I didn’t mean that literally. It was just a thoughtless remark, just an expression.”

  Celeste nodded, her eyes somber. “I know, dear. But I can’t help thinking that Blanche is trying to help me get my memory back. I think that’s what all these dreams are about. But they’re in some sort of code, and I don’t know how to break it.” Celeste’s expression grew determined. “Not yet, anyway. But I intend to. I intend to do a little investigating of my own.”

  Jasmine exchanged a long, worried look with Frannie. She patted Celeste’s shoulder and gave her an encouraging smile. “Well, the thing we need to investigate right now is how we can help you get back to sleep. Would you like for me to make you some warm milk?”

  Celeste squeezed her hand. “No thanks, dear. I feel much calmer after talking about it. I think I’ll just watch a little television here in my room until I get drowsy again. You two go on back to bed. I’m sorry I woke you.”

  Frannie and Jasmine kissed Celeste good-night, then headed out the door. Frannie pulled it closed behind her.

  “I’m worried about her,” Jasmine whispered. “She hasn’t been herself lately.”

  “Maybe she needs to see a psychologist,” Frannie suggested.

  “I tried to talk her into that. She refused. She said this is a spiritual quest. She said it needs to unfold as it’s meant to, in its own time and its own way.”

  Frannie sighed. Her aunt had been heavily influenced by the bayou beliefs she’d picked up the year she and her late husband had lived in Louisiana, and she had a deeply spiritual nature. She wasn’t a bit surprised that she would insist on letting things take a natural course. “You know, Jasmine, I’m growing more and more convinced that she heard or saw something traumatic the night Raven disappeared—something so awful that she’s subconsciously blocked it out.”

  Jasmine nodded. “I think so, too. I think even Mom has come to believe that. Otherwise, why would she want to be doing any investigating? But the whole idea worries me.”

  “Why?” Frannie asked.

  “She says she wants to get her memory back, but I think a part of her is still afraid to face whatever happened.” Jasmine pulled Frannie further down the hall, away from Celeste’s room, and lowered her voice. “Mom doesn’t know it, but I discussed all this with a psychiatrist that Summer recommended.”

  “And?”

  “And the doctor said that if Mom doesn’t want professional help, it won’t do any good for us to push her into it. We need to let her deal with this at her own pace.”

  “How can we help?”

  Jasmine sighed. “The doctor said we need to keep doing what
we’re doing now—support her, encourage her to talk and hold her hand in the middle of the night.”

  It didn’t seem like much, but it made sense. Frannie nodded.

  Jasmine gave a big yawn and stretched. “Right now, though, I think the best thing we can do is to go back to bed and get some sleep.” She looked at Frannie and grinned. “Unless you want to sit up and tell me all about your date with Austin. I’m dying to hear about it.”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Must have been some dinner. I was already asleep by the time you got home.”

  “Go to bed.” Smiling, Frannie turned her cousin by the shoulders and pointed her down the hall.

  “Only if you promise to tell me everything—and I mean everything—at breakfast.”

  “Okay.” Frannie headed back to her bedroom, making a mental note to grab a fast-food breakfast on her way to work.

  Frannie hoped to sneak out of the house the next morning without seeing Jasmine, but before she’d even finished dressing, she heard a soft rap on the door. She turned to see Jasmine slip inside her room.

  Frannie finished buttoning the top of her black linen skirt and grinned at her cousin, one eyebrow arched reproachfully. “Most people wait to hear the magic words, ‘come in.’”

  “Sorry, Frannie. I’m too excited.”

  She looked it. The petite brunette was practically vibrating with excitement.

  Frannie turned to her closet and pulled her suit jacket off a clothes hanger. “About what?”

  “You’ve got a visitor.” She paused melodramatically. “Austin.”

  Frannie was chagrined at how hard her heart began pounding. “At this hour? It’s seven-fifteen in the morning!”

  Jasmine nodded, grinning widely.

  “What does he want?”

  “He said he wants to see you.”

  Frannie tried hard to remain calm, but her hand shook as she picked up her hairbrush. She reached for an elastic band to pull her hair back, then changed her mind. What the heck. He’d liked her hair down. She’d wear it that way.

  Jasmine’s gaze raked her over from head to toe. “You look great. You’re wearing your contacts. Frannie, you’ve even got on a little makeup!” Jasmine beamed, then narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Did you know he was coming by this morning?”

  “No.”

  Jasmine looked less than fully convinced. “So what happened last night?”

  “We went to dinner at the Lakeside Inn.”

  “And?”

  “And then he brought me home.” Frannie fastened on small gold hoop earrings.

  “That was it? No kissing?”

  Frannie’s palms started to sweat at the memory. She reached for her purse. “I’d better get downstairs. It’s rude to keep him waiting.”

  “Oh, he’s fine. He’s drinking a cup of coffee.” Jasmine peered at her closely as Frannie walked past her and opened the door. “You did kiss him! Oh, this is so exciting!”

  “Shh! Don’t broad cast it to the entire house!” Hoisting her purse over her shoulder, Frannie hurried down the stairs, Jasmine close on her heels.

  Austin was waiting in the vestibule, wearing jeans and cowboy boots, his dark hair slightly damp, as if he were fresh from a shower. A hint of dark hair peeked out the unbuttoned neck of his denim shirt. The sheer masculinity of him made Frannie’s breath catch in her throat.

  “Good mornin’, Frannie.”

  She fiddled nervously with the strap of her purse. “Good morning.”

  His mouth curved into a slow smile. “At the risk of somehow insulting you, I think you look mighty nice this morning.”

  Frannie could feel her cousin’s curious gaze practically burning a hole in her. “Uh…thank you.”

  “It occurred to me that you might need a ride to work or to the optometrist’s office.”

  Jasmine poked her head around Frannie’s shoulder. “Why would she need that?”

  Frannie suppressed the urge to strangle her.

  Austin seemed unperturbed by Jasmine’s flagrant eavesdropping. “Well, I accidently broke Frannie’s glasses last night.”

  Jasmine’s eyebrows rose. “While she was wearing them?”

  “No. I’m afraid I sat on them.”

  Jasmine looked at Frannie, no doubt wondering why she’d taken off her glasses in the first place. Frannie could practically see her cousin’s mind putting two and two together and coming up with five. Jasmine’s face creased into a knowing grin.

  “Don’t you need to do something in the kitchen?” Frannie asked her.

  “What?”

  Frannie eyed her sternly.

  Jasmine sighed. “Oh, sure. Nice seeing you, Austin.” She gave Frannie a sly smile as she sauntered off.

  Austin grinned at Frannie. “I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to see well enough to drive without your glasses.”

  “That’s very thoughtful of you.” And it was, Frannie thought. Surprisingly thoughtful. A feeling of warmth flooded her chest. “But I’m wearing my contact lenses.”

  “Oh. Great.” He gave a relieved smile. “Well, as long as I’m here, can I take you to breakfast?”

  It had been awfully nice of him to drive all this way just to give her a ride, and she didn’t want to appear ungrateful. Besides, she reasoned, if she stayed here, she’d be subjected to the third degree from Jasmine. Those were both valid reasons for saying yes—reasons that had nothing to do with the fact she was dying to spend more time with him.

  “That sounds terrific.”

  With a little wave to Jasmine, who was watching with undisguised fascination, Frannie walked through the door Austin held open.

  “You really do look nice this morning,” he said as they walked down the porch.

  “So do you.”

  Austin laughed as he opened the passenger door on his pickup. “You must not be able to see very well with those contacts.”

  “Actually, I can see better with them than with my glasses.”

  Austin shot her a puzzled look, then walked around the truck and climbed in. “So why don’t you wear them more often?”

  Frannie shrugged. “I’m more comfortable in the glasses, I guess.”

  “The contacts hurt, huh?”

  “No. I’m just more at ease in the glasses. I feel more—I don’t know—relaxed or something.”

  “Why?”

  Why, indeed. Why had she opened her big mouth? Why was it that every time she was around Austin, she found herself saying something she had no intention of saying?

  She gazed out the window as he backed out of the drive. “I guess I feel all exposed in my contacts. Kind of undressed and naked.”

  “I like your naked face.” Austin shot her a wicked grin. “Wouldn’t mind seeing the rest of you that way, either.”

  Frannie hated the way her face burned. She wished she were more at ease with sexual banter, wished she could take it more in stride the way other women did.

  Austin didn’t miss a trick. “Hey, I didn’t mean to embarrass you. That was a crude and pathetic attempt at humor. Sorry.”

  I’m the one who’s sorry. Sorry I get so nervous and tongue-tied around you.

  He glanced over at her as he braked at a Stop sign. “Guess I need to brush up on my social skills. The talk at ranches and racetracks isn’t as high-brow as what I’m sure you’re used to hearing at the bank.”

  Frannie seized the opportunity to change the topic. “Speaking of ranches and racetracks, how did you get from horse ranching to car racing?”

  “Natural progression, I guess. I’ve always liked speed and power, always liked taking on a challenge. The wilder and meaner the horses were, the more I liked taming them. And like most teenage boys, I also loved cars.”

  “How old were you when you started racing?”

  “Seventeen. It was a year after my old man died. I was working at a ranch in east Texas, and the boss hired a new foreman who was into amateur drag racing. He invited me to the track one day and, well, I got ho
oked right from the get-go. I started spending all my free time at the track, helping him fine-tune his car, and sometimes he’d let me take a turn in it when no one was around.”

  She loved the way his face lit up as he talked about it. “I take it you liked that.”

  “Are you kidding? I loved it. When I was eighteen, he had a streak of wins, and he qualified for the championship finals in Oklahoma City. He got some sponsors to pay the way, and two other guys and I went with him to serve as his pit crew. Then, just two hours before the race, he got sick, really sick. Seems he’d eaten a bad turkey sandwich and gotten a big ol’ case of food poisoning.”

  “Oh, no!”

  “Oh, yes. And it was bad. He ended up in the hospital and everything. Well, the sponsors were in a pickle. They’d paid the entry fee and painted his car with their logo and coughed up a whole lot of cash for the trip, and they weren’t too happy about pouring all that money out and not even having the car in the race. So I offered to drive, and they took me up on it. I guess they figured it was better than nothing. The car would at least be in the race, and they’d get some exposure for their money. “

  “So what happened?”

  “Well, I won.”

  Frannie liked the modest, simple way he said it. “And everyone was surprised.”

  “No one more than me. The next thing I knew, folks were calling me to drive their cars, and then sponsors started making offers, then I got my own car, and then I moved from drag racing to the NASCAR circuit. And, well, here I am.”

  “I’m sure that’s an understated version of things.”

  “It’s a pretty fair summary.” He parked outside the Hip Hop Café. “Is this okay?”

  “Great. They make the best pancakes in the county.”

  Austin watched Frannie pour cream into her cup, then add a teaspoon of sugar. Even her smallest gesture fascinated him, from the way she held the spoon to the precise way she stirred her coffee. Without a doubt, she was the most fascinating woman he’d ever met in his life.

  He wasn’t sure what it was about her, exactly, that held him so in thrall. Maybe it was the novelty of her buttoned-down appearance. Maybe it was her forthright way of speaking, or her unexpected dry sense of humor. Maybe it was all of those things, combined with a soft, understated beauty that seemed to grow more pronounced every time her saw her.