Step Into My Parlor

by Jan Hudson

  "Do I hear another 'and' in there?"

  'I'm a sucker for pigtails and freckles."

  She narrowed her eyes at him and waited.

  "I like ribs."

  She raised her eyebrows. "And?"

  He shrugged again. "The kid wants to be a veterinarian, and her folks can't afford to send her to college."

  "Aha." She grinned. "Spider Webb, you are a teddy bear."

  A rush of tender emotion filled her. Her first inclination was to hug him right in the middle of the turkey exhibit. Knowing Spider, he wouldn't have cared, but being the reserved type, she settled for hooking her arm in his and holding on tightly with both hands.

  He might be a pawnbroker and live in a converted pizzeria, but she admired Spider more than any man she'd ever known. How many of the men she knew would take time to help an old lady with psychological problems or a young girl who needed a college fund? Oh, they might write a substantial check to charity or attend the high-profile "disease balls" Spider disdained, but how many of them would get personally involved? How many of her friends had been there for her? Not one. It had been Spider, a stranger, who cared enough to help her.

  As they strolled through the livestock exhibit, she listened to Spider's running commentary with only part of her attention. With the rest, she wrestled with the question that had plagued her for days: Was she falling in love with Spider, or had she somehow gotten gratitude, excitement, and sexual attraction mixed up with it? As usual, she didn't have an answer.

  "Darlin', I get the impression that you're not too excited by the chickens and the steers, and it is pretty ripe in here. Let's go over to the carnival area, and I’ll win you a stuffed animal. I think they're more your speed."

  "My nose is not that delicate. I grew up with horses, remember? But I would love to have a stuffed animal."

  They wandered through the small midway until they found a pitching booth. "Oh, look," she said, pointing to the top row of plush toys. "It's a pig. Isn't he cute?"

  "You want one of those?"

  She nodded, but after watching several men try their luck with the stacked bottles and walking away empty-handed, she whispered, "Maybe we should forget it. They say these things are rigged."

  He patted her hand. "You want a pig, sugar. I'm gonna get you a pig."

  It took thirty-seven dollars' worth of balls, but Anne walked away with a fat pink pig under her arm.

  They rode the Ferris wheel, ate sausage-on-a-stick and cotton candy, and laughed at the antics of children excited by the festivities. Soon it was time to go inside and see the rodeo, and they followed the flow of the crowd, most of them urban cowboys, through the turnstiles to their places.

  Spider kept her close by his side with her arm tucked through his. "I don't want you to get lost in this mob." He grinned down at her. "I think you're as excited about your first rodeo as the kids are." She laughed. "I am."

  Trish and Roscoe were already seated ringside and waved to them as they inched their way to the front row. Lisa and Wally joined them just after the opening ceremony.

  "Baby-sitter problems." Lisa explained.

  The six of them had a grand time watching the cowboys and cowgirls compete in the various events and cheering for their personal favorites. They groaned with the crowd when a rope missed a steer or when a rider was thrown from a bucking bronco.

  Bull riding seemed the most dangerous. Anne thought the few seconds required on a sharp-horned beast's back must feel like forever when the ferocious animal had other ideas. She clutched Spider's arm and hid her face against his shoulder when a mean-looking bull named Thunderbolt wheeled and tried to gore a rider scrambling to get up from the dirt where he'd landed.

  He patted her hand. "It's okay, darlin'. The clowns will distract the bull."

  Sneaking a peek, she saw that it was true. Two clowns ran out and danced around Thunderbolt, one waving his big red bandanna like a matador's cape, the other pulling the bull's tail. The crowd laughed at the antics of the pair, who diverted the animal's attention from the downed cowboy until he was safely out of the arena.

  "Theirs is the most dangerous job," she said as one clown jumped in a blue-and-red barrel milliseconds before a sharp horn would have caught him.

  "It can be, but these fellows know what they're doing. I've got a friend who's been a rodeo clown for about ten or twelve years. Would you like to meet him sometime?"

  "I'd love to. Has he ever been hurt?"

  Spider shrugged. "A couple of times. I’ll give him a call next week and—"

  He stopped and they looked at one another, both knowing that time was running out. She might not be here next week. By unspoken mutual consent, they changed the direction of their conversation.

  Fans in the packed Astrodome were screaming and George Strait had just launched into his second song when Spider's beeper went off.

  "Keep my seat warm, sugar, and I’ll call to see what Boots wants."

  A few minutes later Spider returned with a cardboard tray of beers for the group. As he handed them out, Anne whispered, "Was there an emergency at the shop? Do we need to leave?"

  He shook his head. "It’ll wait till tomorrow. Let's enjoy the show. Tell me," he said, motioning toward the stage in the arena, "do you really think that guy sings as well as I do?"

  Drawing her face into a pose of exaggerated consideration, she cocked her head and studied the beams and glass of the ceiling.

  "Well?"

  "I'm thinking," she said, "of how I can say this diplomatically."

  "Never mind." He laughed and threw his arm around her, drawing her close. "I get the picture."

  When George Strait and the Ace in the Hole Band had finished their last encore and left the arena, Wally said, "You guys want to watch some more rodeo, or do you want to go by the Rose and dance for a while?"

  Roscoe and Trish wanted to go dancing, and, before Anne could open her mouth to agree, Spider said, "Anne and I are tired. I think we’ll call it a night."

  "Are you getting old, Spider?" Trish teased. "Or do you two want to be alone?"

  He only grinned.

  On the way home, he pulled Anne close to him as he drove, tucking her head against his shoulder and setting his chin on the top of her head.

  "You seem very quiet," she said. "Are you really tired?"

  "No, I just wanted to be with you. Would you rather have gone dancing?"

  She gave a contented sigh and settled into the spot where she fit so well. "No."

  When he pulled into the strip center and parked in front of the Pawn Parlor's red neon sign, he continued to hold her close to him, making no move to get out of the truck.

  "Sugar, I've got something I need to say."

  He sounded so serious that Anne's heart lurched and her breath caught. She started to move away so that she could face him, but his arm tightened around her, and his hand pressed her head against his chest and under his cheek. She could feel the thud of his heart, and the dark quiet began to grow ominous.

  "I don't know where to start," he said, "except to tell you that I love you."

  She gave a little gasp as a mixture of relief and excitement coursed through her. He loved her! "Oh, Spider—"

  Laying his fingers on her lips, he said, "Don't say anything, sugar. Let me finish. I know that we haven't known each other very long, but, for me, it's long enough to know that I love you more than anybody or anything in this world. I'm not good at pretty speeches—I wish right now I were— but you've brought sunshine and sweetness into my life, and I don't want to let go of it.

  "My bankroll might not measure up to the men's you're used to, but I don't think you'll ever find a man who loves you more than I do. I'd rip out my soul and hand it to you if you wanted it. I know I'd be asking a lot of you to marry someone like me, but if you'd have me, I'd like to make it forever."

  "Spider—"

  He laid his fingers across her lips again. "Shhh, darlin'. Don't say anything yet. I just want you to think about it
. I know you've got a lot on your mind and things are unsettled right now, but I needed to say the words. Remember, whatever happens, I love you with everything that's in me. And as long as I draw a breath, I will cherish you and do everything in my power to keep you safe and happy."

  Anne didn't know tears were trickling down her cheeks until Spider sat her up and brushed them away with his thumbs. "Aw, darlin', don't cry. I didn't mean to upset you."

  She sniffed. "You didn't upset me. Spider, you're the dearest, sweetest man in the world. And I lo—"

  He silenced her again, but with a brief kiss. Giving her a cocky grin, he said, "I may not be much of a singer, but I'm going to prove to you that nobody can hold a candle to me in a water bed."

  "I prefer red satin sheets myself. Vigorous activity in the water bed makes me seasick."

  "My bed it is, sugar. I intend to be damned vigorous." He opened the door and dragged her, laughing, from the cab.

  "Wait! My pig."

  He grabbed the plush pink animal from the seat and stuck it under his arm. In record time, he had the door unlocked and the alarm reset, and to Turk's mellow call of "Step into my parlor, sweet thing," they raced through the shop toward his bedroom.

  Spider's hat and jacket landed on the floor. He peeled off Anne's coat and reached for the snaps on her shirt. Laughing, she stilled his hands.

  "Why are you in such a hurry, cowboy?"

  "I’ve got a terrible hankerin' for you, ma'am."

  "Put your hankerin' on hold for a few minutes, pardner. I'm going to take a shower. I smell like a barnyard."

  "You smell like flowers."

  He popped three snaps and she wiggled away. "Spider, I'm going to take a shower." She enunciated each word distinctly.

  "Yes, ma'am." He stripped off his shirt and reached for a boot, hopping on one foot as he yanked it off. "I’ll take one with you."

  Cocking an eyebrow, she smiled. "Why do I get the idea that hygiene is not your primary interest?"

  "I can't imagine."

  He yanked off his other boot and threw it in a corner by a set of golf clubs. His jeans landed on the organ and his shorts in the lead birdbath.

  Magnificently naked, he turned to face her. "Why aren't you undressed, woman?"

  Amused, she said, "I was watching the show. Besides, I need help getting my boots off."

  "No sooner said than done." He backed her up to the bed and sat her down. Off came the boots. The rest of her clothes followed quickly behind. He grabbed her hand. "To the shower."

  She giggled as she trotted along behind him. "Do you always take a shower in your socks?"

  "Yeah," he said, not slowing his pace. "Saves on the laundry."

  But as soon as the shower was on and the temperature adjusted, he stripped off his socks and tossed them on top of the hamper. Holding open the glass door, he said, "After you, madam."

  She stepped inside and picked up the soap. "Uh-uh," he said, taking it from her. "I intend to lather every beautiful inch of your body."

  And he did. Some places he lingered longer than others. By the time he was through, her knees felt about as substantial as the soap bubbles. He made a few quick passes over his own body and backed her under the shower head to rinse.

  As the warm water sluiced over her shoulders, he bent and took one nipple in his mouth. The sensations of teeth and tongue and lips and water were delightfully erotic. Her back arched and the spray wet her hair and face. His lips drew a trail up to her neck while his hand went lower, to the area he had so painstakingly washed earlier.

  While his fingers tested and teased, his tongue led the way as his mouth covered hers in an urgent, aching kiss. Her arms went around him; her fingers slid along his slick, wet body, and she rubbed her breasts against him, savoring the sensation of pelting water, questing tongue, and skin on skin.

  She could feel him hot and hard against her stomach, and his hands went to cup her buttocks and lift her to him.

  She sucked in a startled breath as she enveloped him. "Oh, Spider."

  "Lock your legs around me, sugar," he murmured.

  He positioned her so that her back was supported against the tile and the warm spray beat down between them. Thrusting slowly, he brought her to the brink of maddeningly marvelous ecstasy.

  "I've never felt anything so wonderful," she murmured. "Oh, Spider, I love you."

  "Oh, babe," he groaned and thrust harder, faster.

  She cried out as every muscle tensed and sensation shattered her like a million crystal prisms flung into the sun. He, too, cried out and arched. She could feel his love flow into her.

  After a few moments, he let her down, tenderly washed her, and led her from the shower. His eyes, like sparkling blue diamonds, spoke love to her silently as he dried her with a soft towel.

  "My hair is wet," she said. "I’ll have to dry it."

  "Let me." He wrapped her in a bath towel and passed another gently over her head. After he was dry, he draped a towel around his hips, took her into the bedroom, and set her on a stool. He went back for the hair drier and a brush.

  With slow, deliberate strokes, he brushed and dried her hair. Eyes closed, she gave over to the rhythmic delight. When the hum of the drier stopped, she opened her eyes. Spider was looking at her with a strange expression that seemed solemn, sad, and loving all at once. She frowned.

  "Darlin’ "—he took a deep breath—"Vicki called."

  Ten

  Early the next morning, Spider stood outside of Anne's door and raked his fingers through his hair. He hadn't slept a wink last night after she'd torn a strip off him and flounced out of his room. He felt guilty as hell and sick to his stomach with fear. Maybe, he thought, she'd cooled off some by now. He knocked on the door.

  "Anne, are you still mad?"

  She flung open the door. "Damned right I'm still mad! I can't believe you didn't tell me right away that Vicki called." She charged down the hall, lugging the eel-skin briefcase with her.

  Hot on her heels, he said, "But, darlin', I explained—"

  Whirling, she gave him a piercing glare. "I'm tired of your making decisions for me, of your treating me like a fragile flower to be cosseted as if I were a mindless bit of fluff."

  "Aw, hell, sugar. I promised I wouldn't do it anymore."

  "Yes, but how long will your promise last?" She turned and stalked off?

  He grabbed her arm. "Where are you going?"

  "To Vicki's, of course."

  "I’ll go with you."

  "You weren't invited. I'm going alone."

  "At least have some breakfast first."

  "Vicki asked me to have breakfast with her." She looked down at his hand encircling her upper arm, then glowered up at him. "If you’ll excuse me, I have to call a taxi."

  He uttered an abrupt expletive and released her. "At least take the Mercedes. I bought it for you to drive." He held out the keys. "Just be careful."

  Hesitating for a moment, she snatched them from his hand. 'Thank you. I'm an excellent driver, and I’ll take very good care of your car."

  "I don't care about the damned car. I care about you. Darlin', please try to understand—"

  "Well discuss this later. Vicki's expecting me."

  He let her out the door of the Parlor and stood watching as she drove away. The day he had feared had come. Dread tormented him. Big and ugly and black, it squeezed his heart and ate at his gut. He could feel his life begin to unravel, and there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it.

  A tall redhead in a green velour jogging suit opened the door of the town house. She frowned. "Yes?"

  Anne looked down at the jeans and sweater she was wearing, patted her blond hair, and grinned. "Don't you recognize me?"

  "Anne?"

  She laughed. "I'm incognita. My disguise must have worked." Hugging her friend, she said, "Oh, Vicki, I've never been so glad to see anyone in my life. I'm in the world's biggest mess, and I thought you'd never get home."

  Vicki pulled her inside. "I'm
sorry I wasn't here. One of my most important clients decided to do business while cruising the Caribbean. It played hell with my schedule, but I got a great tan. What's going on with you? Your letter sounded ominous."

  While the two curled up on the sofa with coffee, Anne related the events of the past several weeks. When her tale of Preston's duplicity was done, she handed over the briefcase.

  Vicki read through the files, then pulled off her reading glasses and tossed them onto the stack of folders on the coffee table. She let out a low whistle. "Heavy stuff. Preston's a real beaut. What do you want to do about it?"

  "You're the attorney. I was hoping you would tell me. Obviously, he must be reported to the authorities, but I don't know who to trust. I thought perhaps your father might be able to help."

  Vicki unwound her long legs and stood. "Good idea. Pour yourself another cup of coffee and I'll call Dad."

  In a few minutes, Vicki was back. She grinned. "I caught him just before he left for a fishing trip. He's going to hop a commuter flight from Dallas and he’ll be here in a couple of hours."

  "I'm sorry to interrupt his plans."

  The redhead laughed. "Are you kidding? Dad's chomping at the bit to get involved. He only retired from his Senate seat because Mom was so ill. He stayed by her side the last few months before she died, but for the past two years, he's been lost without something to do. Oh, he's on the boards of several businesses, but that doesn't fill enough of his time. He misses the activity of Washington. Come on, let's have some breakfast, and you can tell me all about this hunk you're living with."

  "How do you know he's a hunk?"

  Vicki raised her eyebrow. "Sweetie, every woman in Houston knows who Spider Webb is, and most of them have the hots for him. They watch those crazy commercials of his and lust for his gorgeous body. Lucky girl. I want to hear every delicious detail."