by Joanna Wayne
“Pasta?”
Cutter laughed. “How’d you guess?”
Easy. It was practically the only thing she could cook. Well, that and canned soup. Not that Cutter cared. The guy was so in love with his new wife that he lit up like a round of firepower when she walked into the room.
Marcus had known that feeling once. It had turned on him and bitten him in the…No. Who was he kidding? He’d never had the kind of relationship Cutter and Linney had. Not much chance he ever would after the way his ex had stomped him into the mud.
Horses and cattle. Maybe even a good dog. Those were things you could count on. That was one of the real advantages of working for Cutter. When they weren’t on duty for the company, they worked on his ranch, the Double M.
“If that’s it, I’ll go back to hauling hay.”
“That’s it.” Cutter swatted at a worrisome horsefly. “I’ll go with you. Got to work up a pasta appetite by seven.”
ODORS OF FUNNEL CAKES, roasting meats and frying fish and chips greeted them the moment they stepped from their car among dozens of other arriving festival patrons. Dani’s mouth watered in spite of the pastries and coffee they’d stopped for en route.
Celeste and Katie hurried ahead of her, their tennis shoes kicking up dust along the well-traveled path that maneuvered among row upon row of parked cars and pickup trucks.
The air sparked with chatter, laughter and an electric excitement among the festival goers, many dressed in elaborate costumes.
They were greeted at the gate by a jovial, middle-aged man dressed in a short red and green skirt over tights. From his looks, he might have ushered them into the king’s court a century ago. Dani was starting to catch the spirit in spite of her earlier reservations.
Once inside what appeared to be the city walls, activity increased dramatically, and her imagination was spurred by the line of fascinating shops and concessions and the number of people in creative costumes. Old England had never had it so good.
Weirdly, she had a strange tingle of anticipation dancing inside her as if something big was going to happen to her this weekend. Maybe Bethany’s friend would turn out to be a winner.
Forget it. There wasn’t a man alive who could tolerate a woman psychic for long, and she would not put herself and Celeste through another divorce to prove that point.
She hurried to keep up with the girls, then slowed to gawk at a voluptuous young woman bulging out of an outfit that consisted mostly of chain mail. The woman posed for a whiskered guy in an Astros cap who was all but salivating as he snapped her picture.
Dani turned to catch sight of Katie and Celeste walking toward a nearby dress shop. They sashayed past a hunky cowboy and disappeared inside. The guy looked out of place. Not because of his worn jeans, scuffed boots and black Stetson. After all, this was Texas. But the recalcitrant grimace on his craggy face made it clear he wasn’t joining in the revelry that surrounded him.
He looked up and caught her staring at him. An unwelcome burn crept to her cheeks as he tipped his hat and traded the frown for a devastating smile. Oh, well, he was probably used to females admiring his blatant virility.
Head high and looking straight ahead, she strode right past him. She followed the sound of girls’ giggling to the back of the shop. Celeste was holding up a low-cut sapphire-blue gown. The padded cups at the top of the lacing could hold a set of double Ds. Celeste had trouble filling out her training bra.
“You’re a little too young to go the wench route,” Dani said.
“You could wear it, Ms. Baxter,” Katie said. “You’d be hot!”
“We’re going to a wedding, not a bawdry bash.” At least she hoped that was the case; Dani had traded hot for sophisticated several years ago, at the same time she’d swapped her cheating husband for single parenthood and a position with Duran Muton.
“How about these?” Dani said, moving to a rack of pastel-hued, ankle-length dresses with puffy sleeves and high-buttoned necklines.
Celeste scrunched her nose as if she smelled a skunk. “I’d look like a kid.”
“You are a kid.”
“Ooh, look at this,” Katie called, her gaze riveted on a handkerchief-layered skirt of various hues of blue and green, topped with a white peasant blouse. It hung on the highest rack, slightly out of reach.
A youthful clerk dressed in knee-high black boots, tights and a clingy, crimson blouson appeared from between the garment racks. Hooking the hanger, she retrieved the outfit so they could get a better look.
“We’re attending a dinner tonight on the grounds and a Renaissance wedding tomorrow morning,” Dani explained. “Do you have any suggestions as to what would be considered appropriate attire?”
“Just about anything from the period will go for the dinner. People get very daring and inventive at those affairs. But fairies, definitely fairies for the girls for the wedding. You’re both so petite. You’ll be adorable nymphs.”
“Adorable?” Celeste groaned.
“You just uttered the kiss of death,” Dani said.
The clerk took a step backward and gave Dani a studied once-over. “I have just the dress for you for the wedding.”
“Nothing too revealing,” Dani said as the clerk hurried away.
Celeste and Katie moved to the rack of fairy dresses, airy confections that came with their own silver wings. Dani sneaked a peek at a cherry-red blouson with exquisite embroidered details, topped by a black leather bustier pulled so tight it was almost as if the big-breasted mannequin didn’t have a waist.
Incredibly sexy. Probably similar to what the cowboy’s girlfriend was trying on while he waited outside. One glimpse of her in that would no doubt wipe the grimace right off his handsome, tanned face.
Impulsively, she scanned the area. The cowboy was nowhere in sight. Irritated at herself for giving the guy a second thought, she went back to perusing a rack of dresses. She held one up in front of the floor-length mirror. Over her shoulder she caught a reflection of a nice-looking man in a blue knit shirt who seemed to be staring at her from around the sexy mannequin.
For a second, she thought he was one of the reps she did business with. On second glance, she realized he wasn’t. His hair was not only darker but he had a lot more of it than the rep. She hung the dress back on the rack and moved on until she heard the clerk’s voice.
“I practically had to pluck it from a customer’s hands, but she didn’t have the figure to wear it anyway. You’ll be a knockout in it.”
Dani turned. Her pulse quickened. Her knees went weak. The luscious frock in the clerk’s hands was almost a dead second for the green gown from her nightmare.
“Is something wrong? Are you ill?”
The clerk’s voice floated above her, distorted by a thick fog that clouded Dani’s mind. Slowly the haze cleared, and the attacking images became sharp and chilling. She struggled to breathe.
“Move back. Give her air.”
Her gaze sought out the voice. The cowboy. She reached out to him as her body crumpled, and she sank into a bloody river of darkness.
Chapter Two
Marcus knelt beside the fallen woman and felt her pulse. It was slow but not in the danger zone. Her eyes fluttered open, and her gaze met his. A heated jolt galloped up his spine. A weird reaction to a woman he’d never met, even one as attractive as this. It had to be the haunted shadows in the depths of her big brown eyes.
“Are you a doctor?” someone asked.
“I’m a combat medic.” He turned to the crowd. “Stand back a bit. She needs air.”
The hovering bystanders retreated a few inches as two young girls pushed through them. “Mom! What happened?”
“It’s okay, Celeste. I’m fine.” The woman’s voice was uneven, and she swayed when she tried to get up.
“Whoa, there,” Marcus said, reaching out to steady her. “Take it slow.”
“Did you fall?” the other girl questioned.
“She passed out,” someone volunteered.
Another onlooker pointed her finger at Marcus. “He’s a combat medic, trained on the battlefield. He knows what he’s doing.”
The woman was standing now, and she shook loose of Marcus’s protective grasp. “I just fainted,” she insisted. “Believe me, I’m fine.”
Maybe, but from what Marcus had seen, that wasn’t the full story. He’d been looking right at her—okay, checking her out—when the clerk had brushed by him and held up a long green dress for the woman to admire.
Instead her face had twisted into the kind of agonizing pain he’d seen on soldiers when they’d taken a direct hit. Not the kind of reaction one would expect from a woman eyeballing a ball gown in a Renaissance festival shop.
“You should at least let me check your pulse again,” Marcus said.
“Yeah,” the girl who’d called her “Mom” agreed. “He’s a medic. That’s practically a doctor.”
“I don’t need a doctor or a medic, Celeste. My pulse is terrific.”
She tossed her head and looked around as if searching for the nearest escape route. When she spotted the exit, she started toward it.
The girls followed her. Marcus tagged along behind them, though he wasn’t sure why. He didn’t usually chase after women who were trying to avoid him, but then he seldom met one who hotwired his spine the way this one had. Actually, that was probably a reason to run the other way. But then his buddies in the SEALs had always said he was a danger junkie.
Once they were outside the shop, the woman pulled a tissue from her pocket and dabbed away the beads of sweat that had formed on her forehead.
“Are you sure you’re okay, Mom?”
“I’m certain.”
“Well, then why did you faint?” the other girl asked.
“Good point,” Marcus added.
She glared at him, her brows raised as if questioning why he was still hanging around. “Low blood sugar.”
“Since when do you have problems with blood sugar?” Celeste protested. “You sometimes go all day without eating.”
“Well, I’m hungry now,” she said, obviously trying to dismiss her daughter’s concern. “We should have lunch and choose our dresses for the party later.”
So the woman was lying about her medical condition, but something had happened to make her fade to black—or rather to a ghostly white—back there. None of his business, he told himself. He didn’t listen.
“Food sounds good,” Marcus said. “How about I join you? That way I’ll be there in case your blood sugar level doesn’t regulate quickly enough and you require medical assistance.”
Her face reddened as if she knew he’d caught her in the lie. Still, she didn’t give an inch. “I’ll be fine, Mr….”
“Abbot,” he interrupted. “Marcus Abbot, but call me Marcus.” He extended a hand.
Surprisingly she took it. Her grip was warm, but firm, and it struck him that he liked the way her small hand fit into his. And there was a hint of that heat again—more a slow burn than a jolt this time, but still bewitching.
She exhaled sharply and seemed to relax a tad. “I’m Dani Baxter.”
He liked the name. It suited her. Confident, but a little quirky and sophisticated at the same time. And he noted there was no little gold band on her left hand.
“This is my daughter, Celeste, and her friend Katie.” Dani touched the shoulder of each girl as she introduced them.
“We’re here for a wedding,” Celeste said excitedly. “It’s our first time at the festival.”
“Mine, too,” Marcus said.
“Don’t you just love it?” Katie asked.
“It’s definitely looking up.”
“Do you live around here?” Celeste asked.
“In Dobbin.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“It’s a small town, just a few miles down the road.”
“We live in Austin,” Katie said. “You said you were in combat, but you look like a cowboy. So which one are you?”
“A former serviceman and a cowboy to the core.”
“Do you have a ranch?” Celeste asked.
“No, but I live on one.”
“With horses?”
“Lots of horses.”
“Wow!”
“Yeah,” Katie interjected. “I love horses.”
He’d captured the girls’ interest, but Dani was a harder sell. “You really should let me check your pulse again.” This time when he reached for her wrist, she extended it.
“Back to normal,” he said. Actually it was fast, barely noticeably so, but he decided to claim responsibility for the higher rate.
“See,” she said, “just a harmless fainting spell, as I said. Nothing to worry about.”
“Most likely,” he agreed, “but I suggest you take it easy for a while. How about I buy you and the girls some lunch? Strictly as a medical professional looking after your health,” he teased before “no” formed on her full, red lips.
“Thank you, but you’ve done more than enough.”
“In that case, you should offer to buy mine,” Marcus said, interrupting her protest with an argument he hoped she couldn’t refuse.
A hint of a smile touched her mouth. She was weakening.
“Okay,” she said. “Lunch it is. Choose your junk food booth.”
Her color had returned, adding a healthy glow to her cheeks. She was damn good-looking. On a scale of one to ten, she might even top out at an eleven. But it was that episode back there where she looked as if she were dealing with the Devil that really had him going.
He’d bet a week’s pay she was in some kind of trouble.
Dani strode away toward the nearest row of food stands. Back straight, head high, hips swaying. The view was every bit as good from the back as it had been from the front. Gorgeous and intriguing.
Yep. She needed him. She just didn’t know it yet.
WITH FISH AND CHIPS and cold soft drinks in hand, Dani and Marcus settled at a wooden picnic table tucked under a tree next to a face-painting kiosk. The girls had taken their food and gone to catch the end of a juggling act a few yards away.
Marcus’s presence flustered Dani. Partly, she decided, because he was too virile for comfort. But mostly because she was pretty sure he was about to hit her with questions she couldn’t answer.
The fainting spell was a first for her. Even her worst psychic visions only stunned her, but all anyone ever noticed was that she lost her concentration.
Which meant this probably had nothing to do with her abilities. Perhaps she had spent too many hours out of town on business. She needed to slow down, and not let this green dress scenario ruin the whole festival experience.
“Great day for an outing,” she said, going for a light tone that she didn’t quite reach.
“The weather is definitely cooperating.”
Marcus delved into his food as if he were starving. She picked at hers, her usually hearty appetite nonexistent. She was almost convinced the episode in the shop hadn’t been a trance with deeper meaning, so why couldn’t she shake it from her mind?
“You’re not eating,” Marcus said. “Don’t you like the fish?”
“I do. It’s a bit salty, but the flavor is good.”
“But you have something else on your mind?”
He was much too perceptive. “I was just thinking of my friend’s wedding,” she lied.
“Do you disapprove of it?”
“Not exactly. I’ve never met the groom, but the bride has two failed marriages on her resume. I know I’d be scared to death to go for a third.”
“All marriages scare me.”
“Does that mean you’re single?”
“I am now. My first attempt crashed and burned.”
“Ah, that explains the fear of commitment.”
“Let’s just say I know enough to avoid playing catch with a hand grenade. What about you? I don’t see a wedding band.”
“I’m divorced.”
“Stupid man.”
“Thanks. He wouldn’t agree. He likes to trade up.”
“Oh, one of those gotta-have-this-year’s-model type.”
“You got it. And you?”
He grinned. “My pickup truck is practically an antique.”
Dani took a bite of the fish. Crispy crumbs of coating sprinkled her blouse. She brushed them away with her napkin. Marcus used his to dab at a tidbit that must have stuck to her chin.
His hand lingered a moment too long, and a tingle of awareness shot through her. Not psychic but pure sensual attraction. To her credit, she knew the difference. Well, most of the time she knew the difference.
She poked a fry into her mouth and nibbled while she put things in perspective. Even if she were receiving genuine psychic messages—which she didn’t believe—there really was nothing she could do about it. She couldn’t identify anyone involved. Case closed.
She might as well enjoy the moment. The fascinating cowboy whose smile and easy mannerisms promised any manner of sexual pleasures would be out of her life in a matter of minutes.
That was fine, too. As nice as it might be to sample his virility, she simply didn’t have time to add the complications of a long-distance relationship with no chance of succeeding to her extremely busy life.
She finished her meal with a lot more enthusiasm than she’d begun it. Once she’d wiped the grease from her mouth and hands, she wadded the napkin and started to get up.
Marcus reached out and wrapped his hand around her arm.
Her breath caught on the intake. “My pulse is fine,” she said, though she was pretty sure it was racing. No way she could deny such a dynamic attraction. “And I really do need to get back to the girls. We’ll have to pick up the pace if we want to cover the festival before sundown.”
“About the fainting spell…”
She shook her head, feeling more confident now that she’d thought the incident through. “Not going there again, cowboy.”
“Fair enough, but take this.” He pulled a business card from his pocket and pressed it into her hand. “Call me anytime. I’ll come running.”
“What, running and not riding up on a white steed? Where’s your festival spirit?”
