Texas Baby

by Kathleen O’Brien

  Nikki backed up. “No,” she said adamantly. “You smell like a toxic waste dump. You’re going to suffocate everybody in the place.”

  Susannah sighed. “Don’t be so uptight, Nikki.” She turned back to the bathroom and rummaged in her jewelry case. She lifted out the rhinestone chandelier dangles she’d bought at the boutique today. They weighed about five pounds each. “What do you think? I don’t think it’s too much, do you?”

  “I think you’ll look like a slut. You already do look like one.”

  Nikki folded her arms over her chest. She seemed a bit unnerved, and for a minute Susannah had a pang of conscience. Had she gone too far? Might Nikki really be afraid that her only guardian had lost her mind?

  “Sue,” she said. “Get real. I’m not going anywhere with you dressed like that.”

  “Of course you are. You’re giving a speech, remember? About the children’s wing?”

  “Then you have to take off that outfit. And the makeup, too. You look awful.”

  “What do you care what I wear?” She raised her eyebrows. “Are you implying that it would embarrass you to be seen with me?”

  Nikki started to answer, but she slammed her mouth shut. Her expression changed, moving from bewildered to darkly sullen.

  “Oh, I get it,” she said slowly. “You’re trying to make a point. But I’m not that stupid, you know. God, what a lame-ass trick.”

  “Trick?”

  “Yeah, trick. You want me to admit that this is what I do to you, when I wear clothes you don’t like. But it’s not the same.”

  “It isn’t?” Susannah put one booted foot up on the vanity stool, bent over and ran her hands across the formfitting plastic. “How exactly is it different?”

  Nikki hesitated. Her debating skills weren’t all that well honed yet. But she did her best. “Well, you’re a lot older than I am, for one thing.”

  Susannah widened her bloodred lips. “I’m thirty. And I think I look pretty darn good in these boots, if I do say so myself.”

  “Chase will hate it. He’ll be really mad.”

  “Oh, I doubt that.” Susannah turned to the mirror so that she could insert one of the dangles into her ear. “But even if he is, why should that bother you? He’s not your boyfriend.”

  Nikki didn’t have an answer for that one, which made her angrier than ever. In the mirror, Susannah could see that she was holding on to the banister knob. Her fingertips were bloodless white.

  “It’s not going to work, you know,” Nikki said. “I’m still going to wear whatever I want.”

  “Good!” Susannah forced delight into her voice as she slid in the other dangle. “We can be like twins. The Slutty Everly Sisters. It’ll be fun.”

  Nikki sputtered something, then gave up and stomped away.

  As Susannah heard the violent sound of the bedroom door slamming shut, she turned around slowly. Sighing, she hoisted her barely covered rump onto the countertop and stared down at her trashy plastic boots.

  Okay, so…She’d seriously miscalculated. Her sister was way too savvy, and the whole charade had somehow turned into a do-or-die game of chicken.

  Well, she darn sure wasn’t going to blink first.

  Which meant it was going to be a very interesting evening. She tried to picture herself giving the “please give generously to our worthy cause” speech in these boots.

  And this microskirt would give a whole new meaning to the electric slide.

  She kicked the cabinet with her heels. But hey, why not look on the bright side?

  At least she could count on some great big, drooling donations from the dirty old men in the room.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  JOSIE LOVED TO DANCE.

  Riverfork didn’t have much going for it, but every Saturday night the Barbecue Barn rolled up the tables and held a “Stomping Good Barn Dance” that actually lived up to its name. The Taylors, who owned the restaurant, were her friends, and Josie never missed a week if she could help it.

  So when Susannah invited her to the Burn Center’s barn dance fund-raiser, she had accepted eagerly. This was one place where she could definitely hold her own.

  Especially tonight, when, for the first time in a long time she felt good, and she knew she looked good. She had on a new pair of jeans that she’d bought in town the other day, when she and Chase had gone to visit the sketch artist. She even had a new shirt—a turquoise-blue sleeveless tank top with a fairly daring V-neck. It had taken the very last penny she owned that wasn’t needed to pay the bills, but it was worth it. Both pieces fit just right, especially now that Imogene’s food had put a few pounds back where they belonged.

  Best of all, though, was the special decoration she wore in her hair. She’d been almost finished dressing, when Chase knocked on the guest room door. Wow, she thought instinctively…with those tight hips and sexy rear end, he was like a walking advertisement for blue jeans. And when he topped it off with that soft-as-baby-skin white shirt and crisp navy blazer, he was really something special.

  “I thought you might like to wear this,” he said.

  She pulled her thoughts together. In his outstretched hand, he held an exquisite little hair clip.

  “It belonged to my mother,” he said. “I know she’d like you to have it.”

  When she hesitated, he assured her it wasn’t an expensive piece, though she found that hard to believe. Handmade, it was an intricate spiderweb of fine silver, studded with blue topaz. And from the spiderweb hung several small, shining peacock feathers.

  A dream catcher.

  That was what won her over. Everyone in Texas knew the legend of the dream catcher—the hole in the center of the spiderweb let the good dreams come through, while the web itself trapped and destroyed the nightmares. The dangling feathers helped to guide wisdom and comfort to the sleeper.

  How could she resist? Who didn’t need some help catching and holding on to the right dreams?

  So she had accepted. She pulled the hair back from the sides of her face, and clipped it all into the silver band. Delighted, she had swiveled, trying to see it in the mirror, and every time she moved the feathers swung, tickling against her ear and neck.

  It made her feel very special. Very feminine. Almost beautiful.

  That cocky glow lasted about twenty minutes. Right up until the instant they arrived at the big, elaborately decorated Thompson Ranch barn, the donated site for the dance.

  Right up until the minute she saw Susannah Everly.

  This fund-raiser was Susannah’s event, Chase had explained. The Burn Center was her special project, and she’d been planning the dance for months.

  So, to prepare, Susannah had arrived long before everyone else. She stood on stage talking to the banjo player, with several other musicians hovering on her every word.

  She looked unbelievable.

  Josie had assumed that this dance would be much like the ones in Riverfork, casual and folksy, with lots of beer and laughter. Denim and flannel everywhere.

  Obviously she’d made a mistake. Susannah looked as if she’d just finished a cover shoot for Vogue magazine. She wore the sexiest little white dress Josie had ever seen, and thigh-high boots that proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that she had the longest, sexiest legs in Texas. She’d topped the whole daring outfit off with a small white cowboy hat trimmed with a wide jade ribbon as green as her eyes.

  When they saw her, Josie stopped dead in her tracks. But Chase laughed, then let out a loud, salacious wolf whistle.

  “Lawsie Miss Suzie,” he said, laughing as he moved in and kissed his fiancée on the cheek. “You are one hot number tonight.”

  To Josie’s surprise, Susannah grimaced. “Not by choice,” she said cryptically. “Suffice it to say…I have finally learned what it truly means to be hoist by one’s own petard.”

  Chase cocked his head. “Huh?”

  “Tell you later. It’s a long story, and frankly it makes me look like an idiot.” Belatedly, Susannah noticed Josie. “
Hey, there,” she said with a smile. “I’m glad you felt up to coming.”

  “I couldn’t wait,” Josie said honestly. She’d been edgy and excited all day, whenever she thought about it. “You look terrific. But I have to admit I’m suddenly feeling a bit underdressed.”

  “You look just right,” Susannah assured her. “Believe me, if anyone is underdressed, it’s me.”

  “You’re right about that, honey.” Chase laughed. “Not that I’m complaining, but…you sure you didn’t leave the bottom half of that dress at home in the box?”

  Susannah gave him a dark look. “Very funny. Now I’d better get back to business here. I’ve got to open this party.” She touched Chase’s arm. “Why don’t you and Josie check out the buffet? I’ll see you later, okay?”

  After that, things were a bit of a blur. Everyone, it seemed, wanted to meet Josie. She could guess, from the curious glances and the eager questions, that her dramatic arrival at Clayton Creek Ranch had been the hot gossip for days. What was this mystery woman? Friend? Lover? A little of both?

  Chase handled it smoothly, introducing her over and over as Josie Whitford, his good friend from Riverfork. He was quite convincing, telling in sympathetic detail the harrowing story of her long drive, her eagerness to arrive in time for the party, the low blood sugar and the crash.

  He was so plausible that even the people who looked the most skeptical at the outset went away persuaded that he’d known her forever, almost like brother and sister.

  By the time he was through, Josie half believed it herself.

  For a full half hour, while Susannah stood on stage with a microphone, discussing the Burn Center and introducing the guests of honor, including the callers and the musicians, Chase devoted himself to Josie.

  He was a charming date, careful to keep the conversation general enough to include her, and attentive to her every need. He brought her a sparkling water with a twist of lime, and then found her a plateful of salad and grilled chicken. He led her to a table where they could sit with Trent and some of the others from the ranch.

  But the truth nagged at her. He wasn’t her date—he was Susannah’s, and pretty soon the other woman would be free of her official duties, and she’d come looking for her man.

  Josie hated knowing that he probably felt trapped. She hated being the social albatross around his neck.

  So when a tall, brown-haired cowboy in a rawhide vest came up and asked her to dance, she accepted.

  Chase, who had just been approached by a couple of middle-aged ladies, didn’t seem to mind. He smiled and lifted a hand to signify his approval.

  It was an easy line dance, and her partner moved well, so Josie had a ball. She hadn’t danced since before Chase…before Flim walked through the doors of the Not Guilty Café and turned her life upside down.

  In a way, this dance felt like an official reentry into real life.

  Her cowboy—whose name was Hallem—asked for the next dance, too—another line dance, which must be the way they’d decided to warm up the crowd. She said yes again.

  They were on their third, the first slow song of the night, when Chase appeared and tapped on Hallem’s shoulder.

  “Sorry, Hal,” he said good-naturedly. “You can’t monopolize her all night.”

  “Oh, well. It was worth a try,” the cowboy said. He bowed with a flourish, kissed Josie’s hand and slowly sauntered away.

  “You don’t mind, do you?” Chase smiled. “You’re supposed to dance at least one dance with the guy who brought you.”

  No, she didn’t mind. Josie hadn’t really dared to hope that he would be willing to ask her. He’d gone to so much trouble to convince everyone that they were just good friends. Of course, good friends danced together all the time. Maybe it would seem more suspicious if they didn’t.

  The truth was that, where he was concerned, she’d completely lost her bearings. She no longer knew what was normal and what wasn’t. Sometimes she felt absolutely sure they were friends, real friends, even though they’d known each other such a short time.

  Sometimes that seemed like the silliest kind of wishful thinking.

  She looked at him, his thick golden hair catching the light from the antler candelabra that had been jury-rigged especially for this occasion. When she met his gaze, her entire body seemed to tighten and shimmer, and surely that meant something.

  But what?

  Maybe it was gratitude. Or hormones. Or transference.

  Maybe it was just the same bone-deep loneliness that had made her open her door, her bed and her heart to the last guy who had been flattering and kind.

  She no longer trusted her own feelings. How could she? She had made such a terrible mistake the last time she…

  She held her breath, realizing what she had been about to say to herself.

  She’d made such a terrible mistake the last time she fell in love with Chase Clayton.

  She glanced around, feeling panicked. The feathers of her dream catcher fluttered at her ear.

  “Hey.” His voice was soft. He held out his arms. “It’s okay, Josie. Just dance with me.”

  He might as well have hypnotized her. Even while she was telling her mouth to say no, her legs were moving toward him. She put her hand on his shoulder. He wrapped his fingers around her other hand, and closed it in against his chest.

  There was nothing inappropriate about their posture. She kept her eyes open, and didn’t let her head tilt even an inch toward his body. He didn’t let his hand slip to the sensitive small of her back, or press her in too close.

  From the outside, they probably looked like any other couple in the room.

  But from the inside, it was pure dynamite.

  Tiny gold and white fireworks were popping inside her veins. His hand was so hot she felt sure that tonight, when she took off her shirt, she’d find his brand on her spine. Under her fingers, his heart was pumping hard and slow, in a bolero rhythm that made her think of sex.

  Deep in her body, the same rhythm answered. A fist of desire squeezed rhythmically, opening and shutting, creating ebbs and flows of heat, until she wasn’t sure she could breathe.

  She shivered. In a minute, in a second, in one more dangerous heartbeat, her eyes would drift shut. Her body would soften. Her skin would begin to glow.

  And everyone would see.

  But the song was already ending. As the last notes of the violin reverberated under the high ceilings, and the dancers began to clap, she pulled away.

  She looked at him, oddly dazed. Hardly seeing him.

  “I need to—” She frowned, and looked toward the exit. “I should…the—”

  His hand touched her back again. “Are you all right? Do you feel unwell?”

  “No, Chase,” she said. She took a deep breath. “I feel confused.”

  He might have been about to answer her, but she didn’t get the chance to find out. Trent was suddenly at his shoulder, tapping it.

  “My turn, corporal,” he said with a wry smile. “And unless I miss my guess, there’s a hot dominatrix cowgirl over there who’s wondering where you are.”

  Chase glanced toward their table, where Susannah had just settled with a glass of wine in one hand, and a horsewhip in the other.

  He laughed. “Who can resist an invitation like that?”

  He looked down at Josie, and his gaze was as neutral and friendly as if none of the fireworks had ever happened.

  “Thanks for the dance,” he said. “Have fun with Trent, and try not to let him break all your toes at once.”

  Trent made an irritated noise, swept Josie into his arms and swung her into a graceful waltzing rhythm.

  His arms were strong and sure. He was a superb dancer, and just as handsome as Chase. Maybe, technically, even more so.

  And yet…no fireworks. Not even the tiniest spark.

  “So,” he began pleasantly. “Are you having a good time?”

  She nodded. “I haven’t danced in ages. It feels great.”

 
“I was watching you with Chase,” he said. “You’re a good dancer. Of course, anyone looks good when they’re standing next to his two left feet.”

  She smiled, not bothering to contradict him, even though he couldn’t be more wrong. Chase was such a natural that it didn’t even feel like dancing—it just felt like fusing bodies and moving as one.

  Obviously neither man meant his insults to be taken seriously. They were just two Alpha dogs playing, teeth bared, but no real damage done. They were the two best-looking, most charismatic men here tonight—and that was quite a statement, given that this huge barn was now filled with healthy, studly sun-kissed cowboys dressed to kill.

  Yet, every time they danced in Chase’s direction, she couldn’t help watching him. He sat next to Susannah. His arm was draped casually across the back of her chair, and they were head-to-head, whispering over their drinks.

  After a couple of turns, she caught Trent looking at her, that wry, one-sided smile on his lips.

  “They look good together, don’t they?”

  She nodded, trying not to blush. “Susannah is amazing. I can’t imagine having the courage to wear that dress. And yet she looks fantastic.”

  “It’s definitely not her usual style,” he said, his eyes studying the brunette beauty as they went by. “She’s ordinarily pretty straitlaced. You know what they’re saying, don’t you?”

  “What who is saying?”

  “Everyone.” He leaned his head back, so that he could get a straight look at her. “They’re saying that Sue had to ramp up the sex appeal tonight, because she was afraid she was losing her man.”

  Josie stumbled, nearly stepping on Trent’s toes. “What?”

  He nodded, still watching her closely. “Yeah, crazy, huh? But I actually heard someone say it, straight to her face.”

  “But that’s absurd—”

  “Well,” he said conversationally, “you and I know it’s absurd. And we certainly hope that Chase knows it, too. But I’m not so sure what Sue knows.”