Call Me: sold live on CBS 48 Hours (Barnes Brothers Book 1)

by Alison Kent

  “Pretty doesn’t have anything to do with it.”

  “I don’t know. Gibson would have to be a pretty big moron to let you get away,” Harley said, and Mona finally smiled.

  Once Mona was gone, Harley threw herself into the book work she should’ve finished last night. Every time her mind drifted to Gardner, she reminded herself he’d already cost her too much in time and emotion, not to mention self-examination.

  Then her mind would drift to Mona, and Harley would strengthen her resolve. She had no room for a strong-willed, demanding, controlling man in her life.

  The afternoon passed in a working blur, and by the time she’d dusted, moved the collector Christmas ornaments to a display in the front window, and packaged up a silver urn to have reworked, she’d only thought of Gardner five more times.

  Once she’d climbed the stairs to her apartment above the shop, she wasn’t in the mood to cook. What she wanted to do was take a shower and clear Gardner Barnes from her mind once and for all.

  But after she’d dried off and pulled on a ragged, faded orange University of Texas T-shirt, she knew she wouldn’t be able to get Gardner out of her head until she had all her answers. And the only way to get answers was to ask questions.

  She climbed into bed and picked up the phone.

  SIX

  GARDNER WALKED INTO THE KITCHEN at five to ten and checked the phone for messages.

  Nothing. Either she hadn’t called or she hadn’t left one.

  Slapping a chunk of leftover chicken-fried steak and a squirt of ketchup between two slices of bread, he bounded up the stairs, leaving creek silt on the polished wood.

  Jud would kill him in the morning.

  Stripping, he ate the last two bites of his sandwich in the shower. Jumping out, he toweled off, pulling on his drawers and a pair of jeans once he was half-dry.

  No way was she catching him naked again.

  And no way was he letting the talk get out of hand. Assuming she called. Which was assuming a lot, considering the direction he’d carried their conversation last night.

  It wasn’t the devil that made him do it, but the sound of Harley’s voice. And the mental image her words painted on the blank canvas of his mind.

  He’d never been so turned on while in a room alone.

  He had no problem giving Harley time and space to figure out how fast and how far she wanted to take this thing. But without Googling her phone number like a stalker, which he hadn’t yet brought himself to do, he had no way to find her.

  He wanted more than anything to find her. Because last night might have started out as a date, but it ended up involvement. As involved as he’d been in a very long time.

  He was on his sixth barefoot trip across the bedroom’s expanse of hunter green carpet when the phone rang. He took a deep breath, flexed his fingers, and swore he was going to pull the jack from the wall if this was a wrong number.

  “Hello?”

  “This time I ask the questions.”

  Gardner released his breath in a long, slow stream. “Anything you want.”

  After several seconds, she chuckled softly. “Are you always so agreeable?”

  “Ask my brother or my uncle and you’ll get a definite no. But I’ve been looking forward to this all day.” He relaxed enough to sit on the edge of the bed. “I’m in the mood for whatever you want.”

  “Tough day at the office, huh?”

  “A long one, anyway,” Gardner answered, rolling his shoulders to relieve the effects of driving from Acre 52 to Little Creek then home again in one day. “And half of it spent behind a steering wheel. I just pulled in thirty minutes ago.”

  “Do you travel a lot?”

  “Only when I can’t get out of it. I don’t like to be away from home more than I have to.”

  “Because of your brother and uncle?”

  “That, plus the responsibilities involved in being the boss. Thank God I’ve only got a crew of eight to manage.”

  She was quiet for a minute as if digesting that bit of information. “Your brother and your uncle… Are they your only family?”

  “Yeah.” Feet flat on the floor, Gardner lay back on the bed. “My mother died of cancer, my father of grief six months later, both when I was twenty-two.”

  “I’m sorry”

  Her simple words prompted him to say more. “Tyler, my brother, he was only ten. It was tough, watching my mother suffer. But it was almost worse the morning my father didn’t get out of bed.”

  He didn’t tell her about the note. Or the tranquilizers. Or the decision he’d made that day. He would never love with the fierce intensity that drove a man to his father’s madness.

  Never.

  He stared at the circle of light the lamp cast onto the ceiling. “If it hadn’t been for Judson, my uncle, I might’ve lost Ty. But my father had named Judson Ty’s guardian and left everything he owned to the three of us.”

  “You must be proud of the home you’ve made for them.”

  “They’re my family. How could I do anything else?”

  “It’s been known to happen.”

  “Yeah, well, not with the Barneses. Tyler being so young and all when it happened, I sometimes forget I’m not his father.” Gardner scratched his bare chest, then stopped scratching when Harley chuckled.

  “If he hasn’t left home yet, you must be doing something right.”

  “He’s a good kid. But the real test will come next fall. He’s headed to Texas A & M.”

  “Following in big brother’s footsteps?”

  “His aspirations are a little bit higher. He’s got his heart set on becoming a veterinarian.”

  Harley whistled. “That’ll cost a pretty penny.”

  “He’s worth it.” Gardner plumped up two green-and-russet throw pillows and leaned against the old headboard. “What else do you want to know?”

  “Have you ever been married?”

  He laughed. “No.”

  “Why is that funny?”

  “It’s not the idea of marriage that’s funny. I was just wondering if we’d get around to more of the personal stuff on our second date or wait till the third.”

  She paused, as if feeling her way, then took a deep breath and plunged in. “The way we ended last night, I didn’t think there was anything too personal to discuss.”

  Oh, he could get a hell of a lot more personal but he wasn’t going to frighten her off by telling her that. “No, I’ve never been married.”

  “And how many conquests have you made with the business-card routine?”

  “I’m working on my first.” When she didn’t answer he added, “Believe it or don’t, but I never lie.”

  “You managed the technique so smoothly I assumed you’d had years of practice.”

  “I didn’t even think of it until the plane touched down. Sorry if I embarrassed you.”

  “Don’t be. Like I said, I figured you for a man who takes what he wants from life.”

  Gardner switched off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into intimate darkness. The shadows made his confession easier. “Two days ago I thought I had all life could offer. There was nothing I needed to take. And then I saw you.”

  “And what, Gardner? What made me different?”

  He sensed the frustration in her voice. It nearly equaled his own. But he couldn’t put into words what he’d seen in her. All he knew was that she touched him.

  He wanted to touch her back.

  “Gardner?” Harley prompted.

  “I don’t know, Harley. I looked up and there you were. Beautiful. Elegant. I felt… Hell, I don’t even know what I felt.”

  “What you saw…” Harley hesitated, her voice growing frantic, insistent. “That wasn’t me. The suit. The heels. That’s not who I am.”

  “You’re talking about external trappings.” Gardner got to his feet, the full moon shining through the window above his bed. “And what you told me last night showed me more.”

  “I don’t remember tel
ling you much. And what I do remember is so boring.”

  Gardner chuckled. “If that was boring, I don’t think I could survive your idea of fun.”

  “I’m not talking about… that.”

  “You mean what you wear to bed?” He smiled at her groan. “That’s only part of it. And, yes, I spent a lot of time today picturing you in that gown.” And in a helluva lot less, he silently added. “But I also remember the excitement in your voice when you talked about Christmas, and about being a kid.”

  She gave a tiny laugh. “Amazing how first impressions can be so distorted.”

  Gardner crossed his room, propped his hip against the corner of his dresser. “I like second ones better.”

  “So do I, though I have to plead guilty to judging you by your looks.”

  “And what did you see?” He glanced over his shoulder to the mirror behind him.

  “Success. I had no trouble picturing your face on the cover of CFO or Forbes. Or even GQ.”

  Try Western Horseman, Gardner mused, studying the crow’s-feet the sun had carved into his skin. “Is that good or bad?”

  “Neither and both. It made it hard to call the first time and even harder to call today.”

  Gardner frowned. “Why?”

  She gave a self-conscious little laugh. “I’ve run into too many men who use their looks to get what they want in their professional lives. Not to mention their personal lives.”

  Old wounds, Gardner reflected. Interesting. “That works both ways, you know.”

  “Touché. Maybe I’m oversensitive.”

  Maybe she had reason to be. “Believe me, looks don’t matter in my business. And as far as my personal life, well, I’ve been too busy with business to have one.”

  He thought of the heirs he didn’t have and resumed pacing. “For the past couple of days, though, I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind long enough to concentrate on what has needed to be done.”

  “I’ve been a little preoccupied myself.”

  “Then what are we going to do about it?” He stopped at the foot of his bed and closed his eyes. Leaning his head back, he swallowed the lump of longing in his throat. “Tell me where you are. I’ll be there tomorrow.”

  “On a moment’s notice? What about business?”

  “Screw it. The crew can handle moving the—”

  “Wait. Stop.”

  He switched the receiver to the other ear. “Why?”

  “Don’t tell me what you do. This is my fantasy. I want to know the Gardner Barnes you don’t share with anyone else.”

  Fantasy, huh? Gardner shoved his fingers over his hair and blew out a breath. “That’s asking a hell of a lot.”

  “I know I’m complicating things. But I can’t think of a simple way to put what I’m feeling into words.”

  “Just spell it out”

  “I need…I want… no, I don’t want to jump into anything without knowing what I’ll find when I get there. That’s why I don’t want to see you face-to-face. You’re too… distracting.”

  “Distracting?” Gardner rubbed the base of his neck. “I’ve been called a lot of things but I don’t think that’s one of them.”

  “You can’t be blind to your looks.” She sounded incredulous.

  “Like you said, what I look like doesn’t have much to do with anything.”

  “What do you look like?”

  He frowned, caught off guard by her sultry tone. “You know what I look like.”

  “No. I mean right now.” She seemed to hesitate. “Gardner?”

  He loved it when she said his name in that breathy voice. “Hmm?”

  “What are you wearing?”

  He laughed. Payback time. “That’s a hell of a question to be asking a man at eleven o’clock at night.”

  He could almost feel her blush through the phone. “Well?”

  A fearless woman. Outstanding. “Jeans.”

  “That’s it?”

  “And my Fruit of the Looms. And, yes,” he continued before she could ask more. “They’re all I sleep in.”

  “Then you’re not in bed now?”

  He swallowed a heady groan. “No, but I should be.”

  “So do you want to tell me what your bed looks like?”

  This sharing of information was not going the way Gardner had planned. “It’s an antique four-poster that belonged to my grandparents,” he said, addressing the matter impersonally. “It’s heavy, dark oak. The candlewick quilt is almost as old.”

  His throat grew tight. “But talking about beds is going to get us in trouble. Just like talking about your nightgown and the way I want to take it off.”

  “You do?”

  Gardner curled his fingers into the paper-thin coverlet. “I see you stretched out on my bed. Telling me about the cookies you made. Feeding me a bite of fudge. I think how good you’d smell wearing chocolate. How much better you’d taste.”

  “Gardner—”

  “No, wait.” The same frustration that threaded his voice filled his jeans. He couldn’t go on not knowing more.

  “What?” she asked on a shaky sigh.

  “Tell me your last name.”

  For a moment, he heard nothing but breathing, then she whispered, “Golden.”

  Gardner expelled a sigh of relief. Harley Golden. Perfect. His desperation eased.

  “Well, Harley Golden. It’s eleven o’clock. Saturday night is just beginning for you and your sprout-and-tofu friends.” Gardner grimaced. When put that way, their differences sounded insurmountable.

  “You’ve had a long day.”

  “And I’m in desperate need of a shower.” He didn’t bother to tell her he’d already had one. Or that he’d pictured her beside him standing under the spray. Or that he wanted her there with him now. “You wouldn’t want to take one with me, would you?”

  She sucked in a sharp breath. “I don’t… I can’t…”

  Her voice trailed off and Gardner flexed his fingers around the phone. “I could use your help washing my back.”

  “I always have trouble”—she paused, then whispered—“you know… reaching between my shoulder blades.”

  “Yeah, that’s the spot. How ‘bout it? We could use your soap.”

  She never missed a beat. “I bet you’d smell good in clover. I bet you’d…”

  “What?” he rasped. “Say it.”

  “I bet you’d taste even better.”

  Gardner released the button fly of his jeans.

  “Wet skin is so sweet,” Harley went on. “Like honey. Especially when the water’s warm. As warm as sunshine.”

  Reaching down, he pressed against the ache growing heavier with Harley’s every word.

  “A shower’s nice but I’ve always wanted to bathe outdoors. In a cold stream, when the sun’s beating down. Or at night.”

  Gardner dropped his head back and stroked his urgently building need. “Harley—”

  “Imagine a cool breeze. And a warm, bubbling spring.” Her voice dropped to a low murmur. “My skin tingles when I think about it. And when I picture you beside me, I grow—”

  “Enough!” Gardner flipped on every light in the room. “Don’t do this, Harley. Unless you’re ready for me to find you.”

  “No. Not yet.”

  A strange relief left Gardner calm. He glanced down at his erection. Aroused, but calm. She was right. It was still too soon. There was more to compatibility than physical attraction, though right now fifty years of mindless sex sounded damn good.

  “Same time tomorrow?”

  “Unless Sunday’s not good for you,” Harley answered.

  “Any time’s good for me.” But not as good as it’s gonna get, Harley Golden. Nowhere near as good.

  “I’ll call tomorrow night.”

  “See that you do,” he replied, then severed the connection and shucked off his jeans and his Fruit of the Looms, returning to the bathroom for a long, cold shower.

  SEVEN

  HARLEY REFOLDED THE PAP
ER, STACKED it atop the others littering her kitchen table, then sat back in her chair. Propping her feet on the one beside her, she sipped her tea.

  She’d spent the morning doing just as Mona predicted. And though it proved she was a predictable bore, the time had been well spent. An antique auction to be held Tuesday in Fredericksburg listed not only rare bottles but hospital supplies among its inventory. The sale had all the earmarks of the jackpot she needed to knock out her arrangement with Dr. Fischer.

  The only problem was what to wear. Her business wardrobe worked well for the more formal estate and antique auctions she attended in the northeast, but suits and heels wouldn’t do for an open-air barn in central Texas.

  This called for extreme measures. A shopping trip to the Galleria. Structured sweaters, long skirts, and boots ought to do the trick. And since it was close to noon she had to get moving. Lack of motivation wasn’t a problem. Lack of energy was.

  Even though she’d allowed herself the luxury of sleeping late, her rest had been fretful, filled with dreams of Gardner Barnes and showers and antique four-poster beds. Her own fault, really, though she had no explanation beyond insanity for the direction she’d steered their conversation. She blushed, remembering the picture of her words and Gardner’s strangled groans.

  She wasn’t a flirt and she certainly wasn’t a tease; with Brad’s generous help, her marriage had suffered blows from women who were both. But something about Gardner Barnes made her want to test the bounds of propriety.

  She’d wanted answers, explanations as to why she couldn’t get him out of her mind. As Mona had so aptly put it, Harley Golden did not do gorgeous men. But when she listened to Gardner, she never thought of how he looked, only of his words, the way he loved his family, the kind of man he was.

  The kind of man she’d always wanted.

  Talking to Gardner brought it all back, dreams she hadn’t considered for a very long time—and she didn’t even remember forgetting them. Funny, when they’d been so important when she was a child.

  She hadn’t lied to Gardner. Not about her memories of Christmas. Or the fact that she and Everly had turned out okay. She just hadn’t admitted that she and her sister owed their well-adjustment to each other more than to either of their parents. Buck and Trixie had provided the roof and the food. Anything more was a stretch of their parenting skills.