DevilinTexas

by Calista Fox

  Jess stepped into the room and surveyed it. Meanwhile, Sean slipped out in order to set up the sparkling cider service, as they’d agreed upon.

  “Please tell me you don’t hate it,” Liza said.

  Jess whirled back to face her, her eyes lit up with excitement. “Are you kidding me?” She clasped her hands together at her chest and exclaimed, “It’s absolutely breathtaking!”

  “Oh thank God!” Liza said with a heavy sigh. Her stomach returned to its appropriate place. She could breathe again. “‘Cause you had me going there for a minute.”

  “You did all of this?” Jess asked, her voice now full of astonishment and awe.

  “I had help. Sean is great. Very level-headed and resourceful.”

  “Liza,” she breathed. She stepped forward and gently gripped Liza’s shoulders, because her hands were full. “The ladies are going to love this. Really, they’ll be beside themselves that you went to so much trouble for them. They’ll feel like queens for the day!”

  “Well, I don’t know about that,” she said with a shrug.

  Jess practically glowed with enthusiasm. “Way above and beyond, Liza! I mean, this is just…so perfect!”

  Then she frowned and Liza’s heart sank again. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t have a camera.” She made a tsking sound and added, “Darn it. We should have a photo of this for our album. Clearly you have party planning skills… We could add that to the business!”

  As her brain seemed to go into overdrive, Liza grinned. She and Jess were kindred spirits.

  “I bet Sean has a camera on his cell phone,” Liza offered. He seemed like a hip kid.

  “I bet you’re right!”

  And then, suddenly, the hallway was filled with women’s voices and Liza had to pull away from Jess to dispose of the boxes. “When should I come back to break all this down?”

  “Don’t go yet!” Jess exclaimed. Grabbing a box, she added, “Let’s take these out to the van. Then I want you to meet the ladies.”

  “Oh well.” Liza hedged. “I’m not exactly dressed for that.” She glanced down at her white T-shirt and gray, wide-legged jersey pants and sandals. She didn’t miss the smudges of dirt on her shirt.

  “Don’t worry about that. They’ll understand. Once they see this room, they’ll know how hard you worked. Of course you couldn’t have done all this in your Sunday best! And really, Liza. You saved me today.”

  Her look was so sweet, so genuine, what was Liza to do?

  “All right,” she acquiesced. “Let’s get these boxes out of here. Sean is serving the ladies sparkling cider—his idea to buy me more time.”

  “Clever,” she said.

  “I really couldn’t have pulled this off without him.”

  “Then I owe you both.”

  “Hey, you employed me,” Liza reminded her. “That’s thanks enough.”

  “But I didn’t realize I was hiring a miracle worker. Can I even afford you?” she asked with a good-natured laugh.

  “Whatever you think is fair is fine with me.”

  Jess smiled as they shoved the empty boxes into the back of the van. “You’re a Godsend, Liza. Truly.”

  She got a little choked up by Jess’ frank tone and the sparkle in her hazel eyes. “Just glad I could help.”

  Jess gave her a hug and Liza felt the tears sting her eyes. All this over a little enhancement to a luncheon?

  When Jess released her, she said, “I told George last night I had a good feeling about you. I think you’re going to be good for this town, Liza.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” she said on a half-laugh. She was still feeling a little emotional over Jess’ exuberance and gratitude. The culture at McClellan-Piper had not encouraged such demonstrative accolades. In fact, a simple pat on the back had been hard to come by, no matter what rabbit one pulled from one’s hat in order to save the day.

  “Well,” Jess said, still beaming. “Let’s go introduce you to the esteemed Junior League. The crème-de-la-crème of Wilder Society,” she said in a mock-haughty tone, ala Lydia Bain, and a lift of her chin—and nose.

  Liza couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ve dealt with their kind before.”

  “Some of them really are very nice,” she said, looking a little remorseful that she’d made fun of the ladies.

  “Some?” Liza noted. “Well, I’ve spent enough time on Park Avenue. I think I can handle it.”

  “Oh I know you can.”

  She linked arms with Liza as if they were the best of friends. Emotion welled within her again. When was the last time she’d had a best friend? Grade school?

  The thought saddened her and she felt the sting of tears in her eyes again.

  “There must be a reason you ended up here in Wilder,” Jess mused.

  Liza shrugged noncommittally. She recalled Jack’s comment her first night in town, about Fate dealing unexpected hands, forcing you to hold them or fold them. “It’s all been a little strange, I’ll admit. Some highs. Some lows.” Small-town life was a bit difficult to maneuver.

  “Don’t let Lydia get to you,” Jess said. “Really. She’s just…protective.”

  Of the town? Of Jack?

  Thinking of the Devil in Blue Jeans, Liza wondered how he’d feel about her small coup today. She had to admit, she wanted to impress him as much as Jess. Prove she could make friends and fit in here.

  But more importantly, it was a lesson she needed to prove to herself.

  Pushing aside thoughts of Jack—because they’d lead to a wicked path she wasn’t in the position to follow at the moment—she squared her shoulders and headed back into the building.

  “Showtime!” Jess whispered excitedly in her ear.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Liza heard Sean’s voice first.

  “She just blew in here like a tornado and the next thing I knew, the whole place was set up like we were expecting the Queen of England for lunch!”

  Liza couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. And his kindness. He was certainly paving the way for her with the Ladies Who Lunch.

  “Well, where is she?” Liza heard a woman ask in a very thick southern drawl.

  “Right here,” Jess said as they strolled into the cavernous main hall of the Lodge, their arms still linked. Sean stood in the middle of a circle of thirteen women, ranging in age—Liza guessed—from late thirties to mid-eighties. “She was just double-checking all the arrangements.” Jess said that last word with a lilt in her voice, as though Liza had purposely planned a special gala event for these women.

  She cringed a little. She hadn’t gone to that much trouble.

  “Everyone,” Jess said as she presented Liza in formal fashion, “this is Liza Brooks. She recently moved to Wilder and ya’ll can just eat your hearts out, because she’s agreed to work for me!”

  Liza actually blushed at how Jess fussed over her—as though these ladies might actually fawn over her too. She’d already experienced enough cold shoulders to know that wouldn’t be the case. But it was sweet of Jess to make such a big deal out of her.

  A squat woman dressed to the nines—complete with a monstrosity of a pink straw hat and matching satin bow that would’ve made Scarlet O’Hara jealous—stepped forward and offered her white-gloved hand to Liza. “I’m Mrs. Emelda Grant, wife of Robert James Grant, the mayor of Wilder.”

  Liza resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She’d dined with the mayor of New York City—and the Governor of the state—for God’s sake. And their wives had never presented themselves with such fanfare, such pretentious importance. New York Society had its snobs, but she was beginning to think the city had nothing on these southern belles.

  Gracious as can be, though, Liza daintily clasped Emelda’s hand and said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Grant.”

  She made a small sound that could’ve been a Hmm. As if to say, “Of course it’s a pleasure to meet me.”

  Liza bit her tongue on that one.

  As Jess introduced h
er around, she discovered that, in addition to the mayor’s wife, the “crème-de-la-crème of Wilder Society”, as Jess had put it, included three wives of City Council members—who definitely did not take a shine to her, likely because of her association with a man looking to unseat one of their husbands. Two doctors’ wives. Four lawyers’ wives. Two widows. And, of course, the good reverend’s wife.

  “Lydia,” Liza said as she turned to the last woman in the group.

  “So nice to see you again,” Mrs. Bain said. Liza could’ve sworn she was channeling a Civil War debutante forced to be polite to a Yankee. Her light brown eyes flashed to Liza’s hair and a disapproving frown crossed her bare lips for just the briefest of moments.

  Recovering so fast that Liza was sure no one but her had noticed the disdain Lydia felt for her—and her do-it-yourself bottle job—her Royal Witchiness turned to Emelda and said, “This has been a lovely reception.” She set her empty glass on Sean’s tray and added, “Shall we proceed to lunch? We do have business to attend to.”

  That haughty tone of hers was like fingernails on a chalkboard. But Liza kept her temper in check. Though, she wasn’t about to be dismissed one more time by this woman.

  The New Yorker in her took over. Raising her voice in order to get everyone’s attention, she said, “Ladies, if you’d allow me to present this afternoon’s luncheon…” She turned away from them, not giving anyone—Lydia Bain, in particular—the option to protest.

  They followed Liza down the hallway, the little group abuzz with excitement over what was next to come. But when Liza reached the door to the meeting room, she was all alone. She turned back, only to find the ladies had all stopped at the door to the kitchen on the opposite side of the hall.

  Where they’d normally find the feeding trough.

  Liza smiled. “We’re breaking tradition today, ladies,” she said, her gaze landing on Lydia. “Jess and I thought you deserved a special treat for all that you do to support volunteer work in Wilder. Really, it’s such a noble cause.” She truly did mean that part. “Your monetary and personal contributions have, I’m sure, helped to shape this community. I realize I’m new here, but even in just the short amount of time I’ve been in Wilder, I’ve experienced a sense of community that I’m certain you all are greatly responsible for. So we thought a modicum of gratitude was due.”

  Liza stepped aside—hoping she hadn’t laid that last part on too thick. You could take the girl out of the PR gig, but not the PR out of the girl—it was in her blood.

  The women moved toward her, looking skeptical, excited and baffled all at the same time. Particularly Lydia, for whom Liza had a special smile.

  The first to walk through the door was Emelda. She let out a sharp gasp and the other women all but trampled her to get inside the meeting room to see what had grabbed her immediate attention. Liza’s glance slid to Jess, who winked at her.

  As the Junior League of Wilder filled the room Liza had set for them, a loud fervor erupted as they took in the sights and sounds and smells. Liza and Jess lingered outside. Several minutes passed before Emelda joined them in the hallway.

  “Well, I just…” She shook her head, clearly at a loss for words. Liza could see it pained her greatly to admit she’d gotten more than she’d expected from the stranger in town. “This is just so lovely,” she said with a stiff upper lip. But Liza could see she was impressed, despite herself. “Quite a treat, really.”

  “I’m glad you like it,” she replied.

  “Well.” Emelda seemed to consider her words before she said, “We hope to see you at service next Sunday.” Then she turned on her stubby heels and marched back into the room, her ginormous hat barely fitting through the doorframe.

  Jess clasped Liza’s arm and said, “Thank you! Really!”

  Liza smiled back. Obviously, these women’s opinions mattered to her new friend. But today, she’d also seen a side of Jess that told Liza she was loyal to who she was. Just one more thing Liza liked about her new boss.

  “I’ll come back later and clean up,” she said.

  Jess nodded. “Thank you. I’ve got Aunt Murdy’s party to go to this afternoon, so I appreciate your help.”

  “I appreciate the job.”

  Extracting herself from Jess, Liza popped into the kitchen to thank Sean profusely for his help.

  Jokingly, he fanned his face with his hand and said in a mock-Emelda tone, “Well, I just…”

  Liza laughed. “You’re incorrigible.”

  “I don’t know what that means, but I’m here all day, six days a week for your entertainment pleasure. I get Mondays off for good behavior.” He rolled his eyes, then added, “And the fact that no one ever books a meeting or a party on a Monday.”

  “I’ll remember that. See ya later,” she told him.

  Liza left the Elks Lodge and the Ladies Who Lunch and headed back into town to tidy up Jess’ shop—which looked like a twister had passed through it—before she returned to the Lodge to clean up the luncheon.

  * * * * *

  Later that night, she walked into Pietro’s on Jack’s arm. They were greeted by the expected aroma of mouthwatering Italian food. What took Liza by surprise, however, was that it was standing-room only.

  “Holy cow,” she said to Jack.

  “Best restaurant in town. Gets a little crowded on weekend nights.”

  “A little,” she mumbled under her breath. Thank God they had reservations. And that Ruby was such a big fan of Jack. Liza hoped the wait wouldn’t be too long. Now that she was inhaling the delicious scent of garlic and spicy meat, she didn’t think she could keep herself from busting down the kitchen door in search of whatever dish created that heavenly scent.

  “We’re having the special, right?” she asked, already planning her meal.

  Jack grinned. “That’s where I’d put my money.”

  “Yeah, me too. Damn, whatever it is, it’s making me salivate.”

  “I’ll be sure to wipe the drool from the corners of your mouth,” he said as he bent his head to hers and spoke low and sexily in her ear. “With my tongue.”

  Wildfires broke out all over her body, their flickering flames teasing her erogenous zones. “Behave,” she whispered back. “Or Ruby will kick us out.”

  “Not likely,” Jack said with a snort. “I’m her best customer. Besides, she likes that I keep things lively.”

  Liza had no doubt about it—on both counts. Jack definitely knew how to make life more interesting.

  “You’re late,” a familiar voice greeted them.

  Liza’s head snapped in the direction of the podium, where Ruby stood, crossing off names on her reservation list. Tonight, she wore a black apron over her plain clothes that read, “Kiss me, I’m Italian.”

  Liza laughed.

  Ruby scowled at her.

  Liza stifled her amusement.

  “Reservation says seven o’clock,” she informed them. “It’s seven-fifteen.”

  “What can I say,” Jack said, holding up a hand in surrender. The other was on the small of Liza’s back. “She distracts me and makes me lose all track of time.”

  “Traitor!” Liza said as she playfully elbowed him in the ribs. They’d been delayed by fifteen minutes of sucking face at her front door.

  He winced. “Careful, darlin’. I had my own workout last night.”

  “You are just too wicked for words,” she shot back.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Ruby said. “Are ya eatin’ or are ya flirtin’?”

  “Not allowed to do both?” Jack mused as he eased Liza forward with a gentle push.

  She followed Ruby to Jack’s special booth in the back.

  Along the way, Ruby said, “Not on my time, Romeo.” Then she added, in a much lower tone, “Though you could sure teach the stiffs in this town a thing or two about lightening up and enjoying life.”

  Liza didn’t have to wonder to which “stiffs” she referred. Seconds later, they passed the Bains at a table and then neared the Grants—
Emelda and her husband, the mayor.

  “Well,” the Queen Bee said as they approached. Emelda wore an insanely large black hat that needed a spot of its own at the table. Or possibly its own ZIP code. How Ruby was going to get by in the narrow aisle without knocking the hat off the mayor’s wife was a magic trick Liza looked forward to witnessing.

  Jack surprised her by stopping to speak to the Grants. “Good evening, Emelda.” He flashed the dimple-grin and Liza could swear the Queen Bee all but melted like the Wicked Witch of the West, leaving behind nothing but the hat. Her squat body seemed to compress into the chair as she reached for her paper napkin and fanned herself.

  “Jack,” she said in a throaty voice.

  Liza bit back a gasp. Queenie was smitten by her sexy cowboy!

  Well, I just!

  Sean’s imitation of Emelda echoed in her head and Liza had to cover her mouth and feign a cough to keep from laughing.

  “Mayor,” Jack said to the portly man sitting next to the withering pool of mush that was once Emelda Grant. His tone was stronger, more formal as he addressed the mayor of Wilder.

  “Jack, nice to see you. And your lovely…date.”

  Clearly not a term associated with Jack Wade. The uniqueness of her situation with him made Liza’s toes curl in her black leather, thigh-high boots.

  Tonight she wore a short, black skirt with a silver satin button-down blouse tucked into it. She was wearing all the clothes she’d bought on a whim in New York over the years, but had never been able to wear because Peter and her mother found them too sexy or too contemporary-midtown. Not conservative and high-society enough for their taste.

  They weren’t the only ones who had qualms over how she dressed. Mayor Grant took her in with a somewhat disapproving look. But when Jack had arrived at her cottage, he’d nearly called off dinner and dragged her inside to fuck her. So she really didn’t care what anyone else thought.

  Surprisingly, when the mayor’s gaze met hers, he smiled. “You’re just as pretty as Emelda claimed.”

  “Oh, Bob,” Queenie bristled, looking embarrassed and miffed that he’d betrayed her confidence—and shared that tidbit with Liza.

  She smiled at both Grants. “What a lovely compliment. Thank you so much.” She reached a hand out to the mayor in a formal fashion. He stood and took her offering. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”