by Clay, Verna
A fan billowed the female's lavender silk drape gently around her luscious body and lifted her golden hair off her shoulders. The male model bent her slightly backwards, all evidence of his boredom gone when he laid a whopper on her. His hair, the color of rich mahogany laced with sunlight, also moved in the breeze of the fan. His linen shirt, falling off his shoulder and open to the waist, revealed tanned skin and washboard abs.
Sissy said, "My God, I think I can scrub clothes on his abs."
Mims choked and shook her head at Sissy's forthrightness.
For the next hour they watched the photographer command the models, and the models perform magic. The experience transported Mims into the pages of her book. It was as if the characters had found life—a special world of romance, adventure, and a happily ever after that she wanted to step into.
"Okay, boys and girls, I think we can call it a wrap," said the height-challenged photographer.
The male model stretched and the female model ran her hands through her hair. For obvious reasons, Mims had expected the models to gravitate toward each other, but with the shoot finished, they appeared oblivious to one another. Then, to Mims astonishment, the female rushed to the photographer and bent to kiss him on the lips. He responded and whispered in her ear. She blushed and giggled, pushing at his chest. "Hon, gotta run and pick up the kids. I'm making lasagna for dinner."
Mims mouth fell open. Sissy saw the look and chuckled. "Oh, yeah, you've never met Chastity and Chuckie Chambers. They're the best in their fields and been married since their teens. Got two kids, but always act like they're on their honeymoon. It's a shock when people find out they're married. We never give it a second thought around here cause we see them so much. Come on, I'll introduce you to everyone. Now, the male model, Sage Tanner, he's new, so I don't know much about him; only that he's in demand." Sissy elbowed Mims, "Wonder why?" She grabbed Mims' arm and pulled her forward.
"Hey Chastity and Chuckie, I'd like you to meet the author of the book for the cover you were just shooting." The Chambers greeted her with warm handshakes.
"OMG, I just love your books. When Chuckie told me I was going to be the model for your next one, I got so excited I couldn't stop talking about it. It's such a pleasure meeting you!"
"Chastity, I should be thanking you for creating such a beautiful cover," Mims said warmly.
Sissy turned to Sage who'd slipped off his linen shirt to reveal the body of a god. He reached for an old T-shirt and when his head popped through the neck, she said, "Sage, Imaginings is extremely pleased you're doing this book cover. When our artistic designer saw your portfolio, she refused to look further. The shoot was awesome."
"Thank you, ma'am," he politely replied with a slight drawl. He glanced toward Mims and her heart thumped again. You write about this stuff, girl, you don't live it.
Sissy introduced them. "Sage Tanner, I'd like you to meet Mims Murphy, our best selling author."
"I'm pleased to meet you, Ms. Murphy."
"Likewise, Mr. Tanner. But please, call me Mims."
"Okay, only if you call me Sage."
Mims felt utterly tongue-tied. A woman could drown in the man's Caribbean blue eyes and never want to be saved.
She found her voice. "Thank you for the lovely photo shoot. The cover of a book is so important." Lovely photo shoot? What a lame thing to say. How about unbelievably incredible, undeniably sensuous, mesmerizing, and sexy photo shoot?
"I'm glad you liked it."
For a second, there was an uncomfortable silence. Sissy said, "Why don't we all walk across the street for a java fix. I understand there's another shoot tomorrow for publicity photos that are going on our website. We can all throw out ideas."
Chuckie said, "I could use a break, sounds great, Sissy."
Chastity declined, "Sorry, I've got to pick my kids up from school."
Sage agreed, "Sure, that sounds nice," but he didn't sound very enthused.
Sissy grabbed Mims arm. "I'll let the powers-that-be, namely, my husband, know where we're going. Mims and I will meet you in the lobby in five minutes. She pulled Mims from the room.
"Sissy, I really need to go."
"And do what? Hack away on your computer? Give it a break, girl. I just got the most gorgeous man on the planet to join us for coffee. If you say you're not interested, I'm calling the paramedics. Better yet, I'll call the white-coats to have you committed."
"Sissy, what are you talking about? I'm not even in that guy's league. Besides, I'm older than him."
"Not more than five or six years. Cougars are out there dating men decades—yes, that's plural—younger than themselves."
"Sissy, guys like that do not go for gals like me. It only happens in books."
"Mims, I saw the guy give you that look."
"No way, Sissy."
"If you try to get out of this coffee break, I'll…I'll…refuse to publish your next book."
Chapter 2: Java Break
Sage followed the group across the busy intersection to an upscale coffee house. He had the beginnings of a headache. He'd wanted to decline the "java fix" and return to his hotel room, but he needed the modeling job. He couldn't afford to offend his bread-and-butter provider. God, I wish I could quit modeling.
They entered Jet Setters Java Junction and he watched Sissy Johansen take charge. No surprise there. She was a bulldozer, which was probably the reason she and her husband had such a successful company. Although Sage didn't read romance novels, he knew the genre outsold all others.
Someone behind the counter approached Sissy and gave her preferential treatment, motioning them to another room. They followed Sissy and their Jet Setter hostess to a room glassed off from the main one. A few high class business types sat in comfortable booths. Sage knew he looked out of place in his old T-shirt, but he didn't give a rat's ass. A beautiful woman wearing a classy business suit looked him up and down as he approached. She gave him that slow, I-like-what-I-see smile. He'd encountered that same smile thousands of times since the age of fourteen. His headache felt worse. He ignored her.
At their booth, he stepped aside so Sissy and Mims could slide in. The little photographer slid next to Sissy, so he sat next to Mims. She was a little on the well-endowed side of the fork. She seemed self-conscious, something else he'd encountered thousands of times with women.
The hostess handed them menus. Menus to order a damn cup of coffee. He laid his on the table and didn't even glance at it. Mims looked her menu over, front and back, and so did the others. The hostess returned and he listened to Chuck, because he couldn't bring himself to call him Chuckie, order a Muddy Mocha Miracle. Sissy ordered a double shot Hammerhead Bottom Feeder and he was curious about what the author would order. Very politely, she said, "I'd like a Latin Lover Latte, with lite whipped cream, please." He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.
The hostess turned to him. "And for you, sir?" She batted her false eyelashes.
"Black coffee."
"Whatever you want," she said suggestively, and slid the tip of her tongue across her Botox lips.
Sage wanted to ask for aspirin.
* * *
Mims watched the interaction between Sage and the waitress who was trying her damndest to get his attention. Maybe she could use the little scene in her next book. The poor girl wasn't getting anywhere with him. He looked utterly bored. Actually, he looked gorgeous and bored.
Mims rubbed behind her neck, wishing she'd left right after the photo shoot. Sissy was speaking to her. "I'm sorry, Sissy, what did you say?"
"I said, 'Earth to Mims'," she laughed. "Actually, I was just telling Chuckie and Sage what a great writer you've become. How you've improved with each book. Now you're one of our top authors. Although…" she sent a sly look around the table and leaned in, "…you'd probably be number one if you'd use your talent to write some erotic scenes instead of dancing around them."
Mims felt color flood her face and rubbed the back of her neck again,
a habit she'd carried from childhood whenever she felt flustered or nervous. She didn't know how to reply. "I…I…"
Chuckie added his two cents. "Don't worry about it Mims, practice makes perfect." He winked at her.
Mims wanted to crawl under the table.
The flirty waitress saved the day when she brought their orders. Serving Sage his coffee last, she said seductively, "Can I get you anything else?"
Sissy had obviously had enough because she said, "Honey, he's taken by the lady next to him. Show your wares elsewhere."
The young woman glanced from Sage to Mims and her eyes widened, as if to say, No way!
Mims rubbed her neck harder and shot an apologetic glance at Sage. He chuckled and picked up her free hand resting on the table. Bringing it to his lips and kissing her palm, he said, "Yep, I'm taken."
The waitress's jaw dropped, she stammered something, and then hurried away.
Mims jerked her hand back. Her previous embarrassment turned to anger; first at Sissy and then at Sage. She didn't like being the butt of their jokes.
"You know, I really have to get back to my hotel and pack. I don't have time for this. Would you please let me out of the booth, Mr. Tanner." She started scooting over, even though he hadn't moved. He gave her a quizzed look and then stood.
"Mims, you can't leave!" Sissy cried. "I just wanted to put the little tart in her place."
Mims slid from the booth and turned to say a cool goodbye. With her head held high and her back straight, she walked out of Jet Setters Java Junction.
* * *
Sage watched Mims stiffed-back retreat. Hell, he hadn't meant to offend; he'd just been playing along with the game her publisher had started. Any other woman would have played along, too. How could a romance novelist be such a prude? He placed his fingers on his temple. Now he had a migraine.
Chapter 3: Expect the Unexpected
Willing her creative juices to flow, Sarah Carter looked at the blank computer screen. Nothing. The final chapters of Dream Kisses refused to breathe life and her publisher wanted the "whole enchilada" in rough draft in two months!
Visions from the horrible coffee break a week before danced across her mind. She still got angry when she remembered how she'd become the object of first Sissy's, and then Sage Tanner's, strange sense of humor.
After lambasting Mr. Tanner for the thousandth time in her mind, she turned her thoughts to Sissy's voicemails. Her publisher had left several messages apologizing for whatever she'd done, but not really owning up to anything. As usual, Sissy had addressed her by her author's name, Mims. I don't think she even knows my real name.
Sarah minimized her word processing page and clicked on the internet. Maybe her book needed field work. It was a cowboy romance, and being born and raised in Los Angeles, she knew nothing about cowboys, cows, horses, or ranching. She could do some rewrites and finish the last chapters based on firsthand experience. She scrolled her bookmarks and clicked on Lazy M Dude Ranch. Viewing the website with pictures of men, women, and children laughing and riding horses, sitting around a cozy camp fire, and eating together at long tables in a ranch style dining room, she made a sudden decision. Heck, you've got the advance money from Dream Kisses, do some investigative research. Find out what it's like to be a cowgirl. Sarah clicked on the reservation page and signed up for six weeks.
* * *
"Here're the signups for the next go-round." Newt handed Sage a computer print out.
"Thanks, Newt." Sage scanned the list of names.
Newt said, "Ya got one signed up fer six weeks."
"That's unusual. Most folks only come for a week or two. Says her name is Sarah Carter. Ring any bells with you?"
"Nope. My guess—it's one of those gals that found out you're that hoity-toity model and she's hopin' fer a roll in the hay with ya."
"God, Newt, please don't say that."
"Yeah, well so much fer puttin' this place in yer middle name, Michael Tanner. It still don't stop em from findin' out who ya are. I bout went crazy when that last lass showed up hopin' ta become the Missus."
Remembering her hasty retreat, Sage grinned. "It didn't take us long to get rid of her. A few long horse rides, lots of beans, and a policy of no makeup, sent her packing fast. If need be, we'll employ the same tactics with Sarah Carter."
"Ya got that right, boss!"
* * *
Following the sign, Lazy M Ranch, Sarah turned her rented Escalade onto a gravel road. She pushed a sweaty lock from her cheek and pulled on the neckline of her silk shell to allow air down her drenched bosom. An hour after leaving Denver International the Escalade's air conditioning had sputtered and died. I didn't think Colorado got this hot. Thank goodness, I'm almost there. Surely, they have air conditioning.
The vehicle hit a rut that slammed her shoulder into the door. "Ouch!" A few bends in the road later, with still no ranch in sight, Sarah started to worry. Braking to a stop, she scanned the countryside for signs of life. Oh yeah, there was life, but the cows scattered across rolling pastures wasn't what she had in mind. I'll just go a little further. You'd think they'd post more signs.
Sarah started to put the car in gear, but it stalled. She turned the key in the ignition; dead as a doornail. Sucking a deep breath so as not to panic, she muttered a prayer to the car gods and turned the key again. Click…silence. Click…silence. After a dozen attempts, she laid her head on the steering wheel. No, no, no. What about your cell phone! Overjoyed, she grabbed her high-tech phone out of her purse and looked at the face. What? No Service? Crap. She rubbed the back of her neck. Okay, what would Tarah in Dream Kisses do? Sarah raised her head, grabbed her purse, exited the Escalade, and slammed the door. After that she waivered; should she walk back to the road, or continue on. How would Tarah choose which way to go? Reaching back into her purse, she pulled out a coin and flipped it; heads, she'd return to the main road; tails, she'd continue on. The coin landed on tails. Sarah grabbed a tissue from her purse, wiped perspiration off her neck, and started forward.
* * *
Sage finished repairs on the north fence and mounted Jackel. He needed to get back to the ranch to prepare for the arrival of the latest greenhorns. He adjusted his Stetson against the blazing sun—just the kind of day he liked—and nudged his horse. Damn, this dude ranch crap gets old after awhile. Flicking the reins and urging his horse into a gallop, he headed home.
When he crested a rise, a glint in the distance caught his attention and he turned toward it. Soon he realized it was a vehicle. Reaching the expensive Escalade, he dismounted and peeked through the windows. Whoever it belonged to had locked it up tight. He noticed a disturbance in the gravel and, from the small tracks, surmised the car belonged to a woman. She was walking toward the ranch. Great, now I'm gonna have to take care of some rich dame's car. I wonder if this is Sarah Carter.
Sage mounted Jackel and nudged him into a gallop. Before long, he saw a lone figure hobbling in the distance. Shit! He pushed his horse into a faster gallop. The woman turned and watched his approach.
* * *
Sarah's ankle hurt like hell. She'd twisted it in the loose gravel shortly after leaving her car. She heard a sound and looked around. Headed straight toward her on a black horse was a cowboy. She was so happy she wanted to do a happy dance, but her ankle hurt too much. Besides, it would only make her perspire more.
The horse slowed at about thirty feet out. She grinned and waved. A Stetson shadowed the cowboy's face. She raised her hand to shade her eyes against the brilliant sun.
At twenty feet, the cowboy dismounted and walked forward holding the reins of his gigantic horse. Sarah took a step backwards, stumbled, and fell on her ass. The cowboy dropped the reins and rushed toward her.
"You okay, ma'am?"
I know that voice. Sarah's mouth gaped as she stared up into the sky blue eyes of Sage Tanner.
* * *
Sage stared down at Mims Murphy, the author; the one he'd pissed off in New York. From the look in
her eyes, she was still pissed.
He squatted beside her. She moved her leg and winced. "Don't move, Mims, until I can check your leg out." She tried to scoot backwards. He glared at her. "Damn it, don't move." Whether it was pain, or his tone of voice that kept her still, he didn't know. He gently touched her ankle, watching her face. She winced again. Slowly running his hands further up the leg of her designer jeans, he studied her expression. Other than her eyes rounding like saucers, she didn't flinch. He did the same with her other ankle and leg. "I think you've sprained your ankle."
"What are you doing here?" she demanded.
"I live here."
"What? Since when?"
"Since I was born."
"Is this the Lazy M Dude Ranch?"
"It is."
"And you live here?"
"I think I already established that." He grinned. "Actually, this is a cattle ranch that offers dude ranch accommodations. Is there a problem?"
"Yes, there's a problem. I came for the dude ranch, but I didn't know you owned it."
"I didn't see your name on the list."
"I used my real name, Sarah Carter."
Sage pushed his Stetson back. "So you're six-weeks Sarah." His grin widened.
"I want an immediate refund!"
Sage ignored her demand. "Now, why would the famous author, Mims Murphy, book six weeks at a dude ranch?"
"It's none of your business. Just refund my money and I'm out of here."
"Well, Mims, if you haven't noticed, apparently your car isn't running and you've got a sprained ankle. How do you propose to leave?"
Sage stood and watched Mims, or rather, Sarah, sputter her indignation. "Okay, Mims, we're not far from the ranch. It's just around that bend."
"Yeah, right. I've been around a dozen bends."