by Debra Holt
She walked as sedately as possible toward the restaurant for their appointed meeting. Stacy was hard pressed to recall the last time she had felt such exhilaration at the prospect of a meal… although the food on the menu was the last thing on her mind. She was so nervous she doubted she’d be able to eat much at all.
“Can you believe this?” The excited tones of Trish Wyatt, her agent, brought her attention to the woman who raced to catch up with her, but Stacy did not slow her steps. Trish had been her literary agent since her first book sale and a friendship had developed between them over the ensuing years. It was a combo that worked well for them both. Trish was generally excited over something or other.
“Can I believe what, Trish?”
“We have landed in heaven. H-E-A-V-E-N!!” Trish spelled out the word in breathless excitement. “It’s just around this corner! Wait until you see what I mean.”
Stacy stopped at that point and looked at the flustered face of the short woman beside her. The woman certainly looked in a dither. Her ever present, blinged-out horn-rimmed glasses were slightly askew, bits of wispy short blonde hair stood end on end about her head, her eyes were bright beads of jade color. “What is the matter with you?”
“There’s another convention going on in this hotel. Guess what it is?”
Stacy had other things on her mind besides playing twenty questions with the woman. “I really have no clue.” She had an appointment to keep and took a few more steps in that direction. Trish did not leave her side.
“Just be prepared when you turn the next corner.”
Her words brought a crease of brow to Stacy as she rounded the corner and came to an abrupt halt. Her eyes grew wide. She had to work to keep her jaw from literally dropping open.
“Oh, yes.” Trish’s smug voice filtered into her mind from beside her. “That’s right. We are in romance writers’ heaven. You’re looking at over a hundred Texas lawmen. Texas Rangers, to be exact. The females are falling all over themselves. Fingers are flying across laptops, cell phones are snapping photos, and who knows what else! Just look at them. Do they all have to look like that to be a ranger?”
Stacy looked all right. Silently, she took in the sight before her, although not with the same enthusiasm of her companion. She saw hats and boots. She had stumbled right into some Clint Eastwood movie set. And the men almost all looked the same. Tall was definitely a requirement, dark brown slacks or jeans, boots, white long-sleeved dress shirts, dark ties, cream Stetsons, and shiny stars on their chests, not to mention the guns at their hips.
“I feel like drooling,” Trish rambled on. “I had no idea there could be so many men who actually looked like they stepped out of central casting in Hollywood. Why didn’t I move to Texas sooner? Maybe I could get arrested…”
Stacy broke into the woman’s homage. “Wake up, Trish. They’re just men with cowboy hats and guns.” She didn’t let them stop her. She had a real man to meet. The restaurant was just a few more steps.
“Just men?” Trish whispered loudly as they zigzagged through the throng. “That’s like saying the Alamo is just an old building… sacrilege!”
Stacy stopped again and looked at her. “Get a grip, Trish,” she admonished with more than a hint of exasperation in her voice.
“I know you once said you didn’t care for the cowboy type, but I thought you weren’t really serious. I know you’ve never written a book with a cowboy hero in it and—”
“And I never will.” Stacy finished for her. “There are plenty of other writers who can fawn over these types. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a real man to meet for breakfast.” She turned, just as a deep voice spoke behind her.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Stacy realized Davis McKenna had heard her words, but it didn’t matter. His voice sent a thrill through her again and she faced him with a welcoming smile on her face. It froze in place. Her eyes experienced a problem focusing on the person standing in front of her. In fact, they blinked two or three times trying to understand what she couldn’t possibly be seeing at that moment. Whispered words from beside her seeped into her brain.
“You saved the best one for yourself. Way to go, girl!” Trish was swallowed up in the crowd then, leaving Stacy staring at the apparition.
Where was the man Stacy left on the sixteenth floor? Her mind fought to find him. The tall one who stood in front of her at that moment had the same devastating smile and gorgeous blue eyes, but there was a slight problem. He was a cowboy. To be more precise, he was a Texas Ranger. The clothing… the hat… the star on his chest all said so. How could he do this to me? All those emotions must have played across her face.
Davis McKenna’s practiced eyes missed nothing. “Maybe I should have mentioned my line of work.” His deep voice had grown quieter. “Usually, the sight of me only causes adverse reactions in people contemplating breaking the law. I don’t think you fall into that category.”
“Maybe you should have mentioned it,” she responded when she finally found her voice. “I think I’ll have to take a rain check on breakfast. My agent needs me for a conference call.” She grasped at straws after being blindsided.
“That’s too bad.” His eyes were not holding a smile any longer. They were definitely dimmed by disappointment. “I hope we can make a dinner date then. I’m here for the next four days.”
“I’m not,” she spoke up. “I leave this afternoon.”
“Then we’ll just have to have dinner in Austin.” It was evident Davis was not about to let her go so easily.
It was time to put an end to a situation that would not possibly lead anywhere. Stacy took a moment to try to keep the disappointment she felt from her voice. It would not serve any good to prolong the inevitable, and she would not break her rule for anyone, not even him.
Her solemn gaze rose to meet his, her voice calm and flat. “No, that won’t happen. I’m going to be honest with you. I don’t date cowboys, Mr. McKenna. It’s nothing personal about you; it’s just something I don’t care to do. Thanks for sharing that elevator with me and being so kind. I really must go now. Goodbye.” She turned, not waiting for his reply and was soon engulfed in the swelling crowd of the foyer.
Blue eyes followed her retreat as long as they could. There was a firm set to the jaw line as the eyes narrowed.
“Looks like you’re on the trail of a case. What’s up?” The voice beside him came from a fellow ranger from his division.
Davis didn’t meet his look, but it was clear to the other ranger his mind was busy mapping the next course of action. “It is a special case, indeed. It’s one that’s going to take a lot more thought, but one I intend to thoroughly investigate,” Davis vowed, before turning on his booted heel and heading in the opposite direction.
Chapter Two
“Glad to be home, Miss Smith?” Gerard, the concierge for her apartment building, met her with his usual professional smile as she came through the glass doors into the lobby of the eighteen-story high rise she called “home”. It housed her two-story condo on the seventeenth floor.
“Yes, I am, Gerard. This one was too long. I hope to stay away from airports and hotels for a while now. Weather delays made the return trip twice as long as it should have been. I hope the luggage arrived?”
The man handed her the stack of mail, which had accumulated for her, and then moved forward to place his key in the elevator pad. The door slid quietly open. “Yes, it just went upstairs. Have a good evening and, again, welcome back.”
“Thank you,” Stacy responded along with a smile of relief, stepping inside the elevator.
It was good to finally be so close to her front door. The car whispered softly upward as she turned her gaze to the view outside the glass walls, noting the lights of the city beginning to twinkle on below her. For a moment, her thoughts went back to another elevator ride, and to a pair of crystal blue eyes she couldn’t keep out of her mind no matter how hard she tried.
Concentrating o
n her speech, then the reception and dinner after that, she had kept moving and stayed busy after the sudden revelation of who Davis McKenna really was. The disappointment inside her had grown instead of lessened. She had found a man she had instantly been attracted to for the first time in her life, and she had turned and walked away from him.
Her flight had been delayed due to thunderstorms, but she had taken it in stride and had chosen to not spend an extra night at the hotel, opting instead to sit in a lounge at the airport with her laptop, tape recorder, and notes spread around her. She was doing it for the good of her novel, to expedite the process she had already taken too much time away from with the speaking engagements. A seat could open up and a flight could be cleared and she needed to be there for that opportunity. That was what she told herself. She didn’t listen to the small, nagging voice in her mind that kept repeating the words running away. It was ridiculous. There was nothing to run away from.
Her shoes came off almost as soon as she crossed the threshold of her condo. Stacy laid the packet of mail on the table next to the couch as she crossed the large living room with its floor to ceiling windows that stretched the length of the open area that was the living room and dining room combined. It was only dissected by the beige brick and glass of the see-through fireplace which broke the flow of the large area. The stainless steel and grey marble counter-topped kitchen sat to the right of the dining room through square arches with a smaller alcove with windows that faced to the rising sun of its smaller balcony. The main rooms faced the south and overlooked the banks of the Colorado River. There was a guest bedroom off the main floor. A stairway curved to the second floor and an open loft area before double doors opened into the master suite with its huge windows that framed many a gorgeous sunset and the far-off hills that lay to the west.
When Stacy’s career had finally taken off and her novels began continually climbing the best-seller lists, she had splurged on the condo at first sight. Her agent referred to it as her “ivory tower.” Not so much because its walls and carpeting were ivory-colored, but more along the lines of a refuge where she kept herself locked away with her writing.
Stacy was content to stay atop the tower and enjoy the views of the world around her while she communicated with the heroes and heroines found in the pages of the books she penned. Or she had been content until a tall stranger had looked at her with his incredible eyes and his smooth, sexy voice had filled holes within her she hadn’t realized were even there.
From the moment their paths crossed, she couldn’t shake the feeling there had been something akin to a disturbance somewhere in the air around her world. Being an author, she should be able to find a better description for the event, but words failed her… for the first time. Why had it happened? And why did it have to be that man, of all men? That was what she got for coming down from her “tower”.
Of course, she wasn’t a complete hermit. Stacy enjoyed afternoon lunch dates with a few good friends, and an occasional dinner or concert date with the eligible men who managed to gain her attention, usually through the auspices of well-intentioned friends who didn’t want her to become a total recluse.
As she checked her voicemail, there were more than a few calls from one bachelor in particular—Donnie Harrington. Donald Phelps Harrington, III, was an investment banker and member of one of the oldest and richest families in Texas. They dabbled, as he was fond of saying, in banking and real estate… and in politics. There was a rumor that was gathering a life of its own each day, and spreading its way down Congress Avenue. Donald Harrington, III, was being groomed for big things.
His father had served as a senator for eighteen years before announcing his retirement, which was set for the end of the next term. Evidently, his son was expected to follow in the large footsteps. There were other rumors as well; pertaining to some of the darker aspects of politics and power building that Stacy kept a deaf ear turned to as that subject left her cold. She admitted she wasn’t as well versed in the political arena as many in a town full of little else. She would stick to what she knew… writing words on a page. And enjoy the occasional dinner date with Donnie.
Except there was a nagging little doubt in the back of her mind as to how Donnie might view their dating a bit more seriously than she did. They had been introduced at a mutual friend’s wedding a year ago, where he had become fairly smitten, becoming a constant dinner companion or squiring her to afternoon lunches at his family’s country club or taking her out for weekend sailing on the family “putt-putt” as he referred to the huge, expensive cruiser docked at one of the lakes in the hill country. He seemed intrigued that a female could be very easy on the eye and match him on the brains front, as well. Donnie had made the remark more than once that his parents had been pleased he had finely found a mature adult to be seen with. She certainly wasn’t the usual sort of women he had been seen with… bored debutantes with bad habits, party girls too often in the tabloids, or those looking to latch on to someone with deep pockets.
Yes, Donnie was interested and had alluded more and more to the fact that she pleased his family and that was the first criteria toward becoming a member of it. Now, he was inviting her to lunch on Thursday. He also reminded her she had broken two of their last three dates. He expected the guilt trip to work on her? It hadn’t in the past.
It did work on her though, but not necessarily the guilt part of it. Two days later, the beautiful day beyond her windows finally made her succumb to a yearning to be out and about. After forty-eight hours of hard work in front of her computer, and more pleading phone calls from Donnie, Stacy agreed to lunch.
Dressed in a jade-colored silk blouse with slightly billowed sleeves caught in deep cuffs at the wrist, and cream slacks with a gold belt around the waist, she swung a gold-colored bag over her shoulder, and with her hair caught back in a neat ponytail, she looked coolly sophisticated as she waited just inside the lobby of her building. Her cell phone rang.
“Hey, girl.” Trish kept her greetings short and sweet, having a tendency to sound as though she picked up a conversation where they left off in a previous call. “That paragraph in chapter nine we talked about last time, it really needs to have some punch to it. How about…”
“It’s lovely to speak to you, too. I’m fine. How are you?” Stacy interrupted the woman with a not too subtle reminder of where her manners might be found.
“Sheesh! Who has time for small talk? I already know you’re fine because you’re able to speak to me, and I’m fine because I called you. Why rehash what we both know?”
“That’s scary,” Stacy responded. “It’s scary that I find what you just said makes sense… either that or I’ve just gotten used to the Trish code of conversation. Don’t worry about chapter nine; I’ve decided to kill someone off in it. Anything else?”
“That’s great! A good murder was needed there. Oops, I guess I should lower my voice,” Trish’s voice and tone changed in pitch. “I forgot I’m having lunch in the middle of Franco’s. Guess people don’t like the word murder mixed with their Cobb salads and cabernets. I’m getting some strange looks,” the woman said, along with a non-repentant chuckle.
“I can imagine. I’m about to go out for some lunch myself.”
“What? You’re leaving the tower? Let me guess!” Trish’s tones were not soft any longer. They rose with excitement. “It’s that drop dead gorgeous hunk of hot sex from the hotel lobby, isn’t it? In that case, why are you going out? Order in. In the bedroom. Do I have to write that scene for you?”
Stacy was certain her cheeks had crimsoned. Trish’s forthright mode of conversing was something Stacy thought she had gotten used to long ago, but that was before that “hunk of hot sex” had come into her life. He was a real reference point for the description Trish had used and it fit him to a tee… unfortunately. “No, it’s not him. I’m having lunch with Donnie at the club.”
A moment or two of silence met her clarification. Trish’s tone had become flat, almost dea
dpanned. “That’s as far from a hunk of hot sex as you can get. What happened to tall, dark and handsome? Please don’t tell me you blew it already.”
“I didn’t ‘blow it already.’ I simply told him the truth. I don’t date cowboy types and that was that.” No need to add how many times she had almost had a change of heart since then, but since it was too late to do anything about that, she had told herself she had done the right thing, maintaining her long-held principles.
“There are no words that I can think of right now that would be proper enough to use inside this restaurant,” Trish replied. “I’m going to hang up and find a good therapist for you because you need your head examined!” The woman’s fellow diners would certainly have had no problem hearing those last words before she ended the call.
Stacy grimaced and was very glad she had not been seated across from the woman at that point. It was good to remain anonymous sometimes. With perfect timing, her lunch date arrived. Donnie prided himself on being punctual and today was no exception as she noted his silver Mercedes pulling under the portico with one minute to spare. The gold charms tinkled on her wrist as she slid the sunglasses in place on the bridge of her nose. She smiled her thanks to the valet as he held her door until she was seated inside the car.
“You look incredible, as always.” Donnie’s smooth tones slid over her as did his eyes. The look in them told her that he was more than pleased with what he saw. “I was afraid my phone would ring any moment to tell me you were cancelling out on me again. I finally turned it off.”
The chances of his switching off one of his communication devices were slim to none. It was just one of his many smooth lines, all part and parcel of who he was. He was the golden-haired child who had never known anything but the pampered and special life of someone born to expect others to bow to his wishes. He bore the mantle of entitlement well and he made no apologies for it.
