by Diana Palmer
Sara chuckled. “He improves on closer acquaintance,” she told her boss. “And Morris let Tony pick him up. He bit Mr. Cameron. Several times.” It felt good, remembering that.
“I suppose Morris is a pretty good judge of character, then,” Dee said with a grin.
“Now, now,” Sara chided. “Mr. Cameron took good care of me while I was getting back on my feet.”
Dee grimaced. “I could have taken you home with me,” she began guiltily.
“Dee, you have four kids and your mother lives with you and your husband,” Sara replied gently. “You couldn’t possibly take care of one more person. But thank you for offering. I’m just grateful that I still have a job.”
“As if I’d fire you for being sick,” the older woman scoffed. “Now don’t you do any heavy lifting. I’ll do that. You just sit there at the counter and ring up purchases.”
“I can do that, at least,” Sara replied cheerfully.
It was just before closing time when Harley Fowler turned up. Dee had gone to the bank with the day’s receipts while Sara waited for her to come back and lock up.
“Hi, Harley,” Sara greeted.
He smiled. “You look lots better,” he said. He grimaced. “I know I got you in trouble with Cameron by just walking in to see you. I’m really sorry.”
She was stunned. “How did you find out about that?”
“Mrs. Lewis is kin to one of our cowboys. She heard Tony talking about it. I never thought Mr. Cameron would mind. I guess I should have asked first.”
“He’s an outsider, Harley,” she said gently. “He doesn’t know how people behave in small towns. Nobody else would have had a problem.”
“I sort of wondered …” he began, and then stopped.
“Wondered?” she prompted.
“If Mr. Cameron might be jealous,” he said.
She laughed. “Oh, that would be the day,” she chuckled. “A big time rancher jealous of a piddly little clerk in a bookstore. He’s got this gorgeous attorney, named Max,” she added, trying to sound lighthearted. “She’s educated and beautiful and crazy about him.”
Harley sighed. “It must be nice to have a little money. I wouldn’t know.” He leaned on the counter with his forearms. “The Parks are having a barbecue at the ranch Saturday. Lisa said you might want to sketch the pups one more time before they’re old enough to adopt. She says they’re growing like weeds.”
“A barbecue?” she echoed, smiling. “I love barbecue.”
“I know,” he returned, grinning. “Suppose I come and pick you up about eleven Saturday morning? I know you’re still sore and all. I can drive you home whenever you need to go.”
“I’d love to go, Harley,” she said with genuine affection.
He smiled. She wasn’t beautiful, but he liked being with her. “That’s a date, then.”
“Will there be dancing?” she asked.
“Oh, yes. They hired a Mariachi band to play. I understand there’s going to be a major competition between the Caldwells and Cash Grier and his wife. A tango.”
“Wow,” Sara breathed. “Matt and Leslie were our champions hands down until Cash Grier got out on the dance floor with Christabel Gaines—I mean, Christabel Dunn, but that was before she married Judd. Can Tippy Grier do a tango?”
“Apparently. It’s going to be a night to remember.” He hesitated. “Your adopted family’s invited, too.”
“Mr. Cameron?” she asked warily.
“Yes, and the hit man, too.”
“Tony is not a hit man,” she said, laughing when she realized that it was her own description of him that was making the rounds in town. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“He does sort of remind me of a hit man,” he replied dryly. “He’s big and slow-looking, though. He can’t be that good a bodyguard.”
Sara had doubts about how slow-moving Tony was. She had the distinct impression that he was quick as lightning and sly like a fox, hiding his light under a barrel. But she didn’t say so.
“Saturday at eleven,” he repeated.
“Yes.” She grinned at him as he waved and went out the door.
Sara pictured the band and Jared Cameron. She wondered if he’d ask her to dance. She wondered if he could dance. It was thrilling to consider.
Harley came for her exactly at eleven. She was wearing a full skirt with a simple white cotton peasant blouse and silver jewelry. She looked like a pixie.
He was in jeans and a clean plaid cotton shirt, Western cut, with polished black boots and a cowboy hat to match.
“You look nice, Sara,” he told her. “Are you feeling okay?”
She nodded. “The stitches catch a little when I walk too fast, but I feel fine.”
“Can you climb up by yourself?” he added when they reached his pickup truck. It had a running board, but it was higher than a car.
“Sure, I can,” she said. She held on to the inside handle over the door facing, put one foot on the running board and pulled herself up and into the passenger seat. It hurt a little, but she didn’t let that show. “Piece of cake,” she told him, smiling while she fastened her seat belt.
He grinned back. “Then we’re off!”
Cy Parks’s ranch was huge, even by Texas standards. The yard was full of tent pavilions complete with oilcloth-covered long tables and benches for people to sit on. The cowboys had barbecued a steer and their wives had prepared huge tubs of baked beans and coleslaw, and there were baking sheets full of homemade rolls and fresh butter. For dessert, there was everything from cakes to pies to soft-serve ice cream. Cy had really pulled out the stops. Across the fences, his Santa Gertrudis cattle grazed peacefully and stared at the crowds of people who’d come to enjoy the food.
All the powerful people in the county had shown up for Parks’s legendary barbecue. Even the children were invited. It resembled, more than anything, a family reunion.
“Is that the Coltrains’ little boy, Joshua?” Sara exclaimed, indicating a blond-headed little boy in jeans and cotton shirt and boots running from another small boy with dark hair and eyes.
“Yes, and that’s J.D. and Fay Langley’s little boy, Jon, chasing him.”
“They’ve grown so fast!” she exclaimed.
“They have,” he added, smiling at their antics. “Children must be a lot of fun. Their parents seem to dote on them.”
“I imagine they do.”
She was staring after the little boys when she spotted a familiar face. Jared Cameron was standing by one of the long tables talking to Cy Parks. With him were Tony the Dancer … and the female attorney, Max, standing with Jared’s arm around her.
Sara felt as if she’d just walked into a nightmare.
Seven
At the same time Sara spotted him, Jared glanced her way and saw her with Harley Fowler. His green eyes, even at the distance, were blazing.
She averted her eyes and kept walking with Harley to where Lisa was sitting with Gil on her lap. She didn’t dare look the way she felt. Jared Cameron had every right to hang out with his gorgeous attorney. It shouldn’t have made Sara feel betrayed. But it did. The realization shocked her.
Lisa smiled as they joined her. “Have a seat. I could have left Gil in his playpen, but I don’t really like being away from him, even for a few minutes.”
“I wouldn’t, either,” Sara said. “He’s a little doll.”
Gil smiled at Sara shyly and said, “Pretty.”
Sara and Lisa burst out laughing.
“Horsey, Mama, horsey!” Gil demanded, bouncing.
Lisa put him on one knee and bounced him while he laughed happily. “He’s going to be a ladies’ man when he grows up,” Harley drawled. “He’s starting early!”
Lisa laughed. “You may be right. He likes Sara.”
“Everybody likes Sara,” Harley said smoothly, winking at her.
“Not everybody,” Sara murmured as Jared Cameron walked toward them with Max curled close in his arm. He was smiling at Max, but his
green eyes shot daggers at Harley and Sara when he came closer.
“Should you be up so soon after major surgery?” Jared demanded, glaring at Sara.
“Major surgery?” Sara gasped. “I had my appendix out! The incision was barely four inches long!”
Jared’s eyes narrowed. “It ruptured,” he pointed out.
“Why does he get to make comments on your surgery?” Lisa asked innocently.
“Because I took her home with me and Tony and I nursed her back to health,” Jared said curtly. “We have a vested interest in her recovery.”
“Like it put you out! Tony did all the work!” Sara retorted.
Jared held up his hand with all the plastic bandages on it.
“You didn’t try to pick up Morris, did you?” Lisa asked the newcomer.
Jared looked around him, exasperated. “Am I the only person in this town who didn’t know that he bites?”
“Looks like it,” Harley chuckled.
“I hate cats,” Max muttered. “They’re scary, and they have fangs, like snakes.”
Sara wished the other woman had been around when Morris was staying at Jared’s house. She’d have loved watching him stalk the slick lawyer. He loved to attack people who were afraid of cats.
“Hi, Sara,” Tony said, thickening his drawl for the group.
He was wearing his suit and his sunglasses, and he looked really big. “You doing okay?”
Sara had gotten used to him being as articulate as Jared in the privacy of the Cameron ranch. Only now did she realize what a compliment he’d paid her by not putting on what was obviously an act for the masses.
“I’m much better, Tony, thanks,” she replied, and gave him a genuine smile.
Max was looking more uncomfortable by the minute. “We aren’t going to eat outside, are we?” she asked uneasily. “I mean, there are flies!”
“They only land on bad people,” Sara promised.
Seconds later, two huge black flies came to rest on Max’s arm.
She screamed, hitting at them. “Get them off!” she exclaimed.
Tony glanced at Sara and grinned. “Sound familiar?” he teased.
She burst out laughing, remembering her own horror at the yellow hornet that had landed on her shoulder at Jared’s house.
But Max thought Sara was laughing at her and, without a pause, she swung her hand and slapped Sara in the face.
There was a sudden silence around them. Cy Parks, who’d been directing the cowboys cooking the beef, strode up to the small group with blood in his eye.
“Are you all right, Sara?” he asked in a menacing tone.
“I’m … fine,” Sara replied. She had a huge red mark on one cheek.
Cy turned to Max. “I’ve never asked a guest to leave my home until now. I want you off my property.”
Max fumed. “She laughed at me! I was covered up in flies and she thought it was funny!”
“She was laughing because the same thing happened to her at our place with a yellow hornet,” Tony said, and he looked menacing as well. “I reminded her of it.”
Max flushed. “Oh.”
Jared hadn’t said a word until then. But his eyes spoke volumes. “You can apologize to Sara before I take you back to the ranch,” he told Max, and he wasn’t smiling.
Max backed down at once. “I’m very sorry,” she told the younger woman. “I hope I didn’t hurt you,” she added in a condescending tone.
Cash Grier joined the small group. He wasn’t smiling, either. “If you’d like to press charges,” he told Sara while he glared down at Max, “I’ll be delighted to arrest her for you.”
“Arrest me!” Max exclaimed.
“For assault,” he replied coldly. “In Jacobsville, you don’t strike another person physically unless you’ve been attacked physically. It’s against the law.”
“Yeah, you’d think a lawyer would know that, wouldn’t you?” Tony put in his two cents’ worth.
Max seemed to be suddenly aware of her whereabouts and her vulnerability in this small town. She laughed nervously. “Surely that won’t be necessary …?”
Cash looked at Sara. “Sara?” he questioned softly.
Sara took a deep breath and gave Max her best glare. “I won’t have you arrested,” she said quietly. “But if you ever touch me again, I’ll show you how much I learned in Chief Grier’s self-defense course last fall.”
“It won’t happen again,” Jared replied. He took Max firmly by the arm. “Thanks for inviting us,” he told Cy, “but we have to go.”
Tony grimaced. “Yeah. Sorry,” he added, smiling at Sara. “That barbecue sure smelled good.”
“Can’t you stay?” Sara asked Tony gently.
He lit up like a Christmas tree at her tone.
Jared muttered something under his breath and Max protested as his hand tightened bruisingly on her arm.
Tony glanced at his boss and sighed. “No. I got to go, too. See you, Sara.”
She smiled. “See you.”
The three walked away with stiff backs. Sara could have kicked Max. She’d ruined everything.
“Thanks, Chief Grier,” Sara told the town’s police chief.
He shrugged. “You were my star pupil,” he replied. He grinned. “I wish you’d pressed charges, though. I would have enjoyed locking her up.”
“Locking who up?” Tippy Grier asked curiously, joining her husband. The “Georgia Firefly” as she’d been known in modeling circles was still gorgeous, with long reddish-gold hair and green eyes. She smiled at Sara, and then frowned when she saw the red marks on her cheek. “What in the world happened?” she exclaimed.
“Jared Cameron’s lawyer hit her,” Harley said angrily.
“A man hit you?” Tippy gasped.
“A woman,” Sara corrected. “It was because of the flies.”
Tippy stared at her, wide-eyed. “Flies. Right.”
“No,” Sara laughed. “I mean, she thought I was laughing at her because she attracted flies.”
“Good riddance, I say,” Harley muttered, watching Jared’s Jaguar peel out and roar away. “The poor flies will probably drop dead now.”
Sara was disappointed, because she’d hoped that she might have a chance to dance with Jared. But she hated herself for the thought. He’d been horrible to her about Harley, and now he’d sided with Max. But Tony had defended her. Sweet Tony.
“Who was the big fella with Jared?” Cash asked curiously.
“Tony the Dancer,” Cy answered before Sara could.
Everybody looked at him.
He realized at once what a slip he’d made. “I heard Jared call him that,” he said at once.
They still looked at him. He’d used Jared’s first name, something he never did with strangers.
He cursed. “Just pretend I didn’t say a word, and let’s go and eat barbecue,” he muttered. He bent to Lisa, smiling, and picked his little son up in his arms.
“Daddy!” Gil enthused, hugging his father around the neck.
The burned arm was still a little weak, but it didn’t show. The look on his face as he held the little boy was indescribable.
“Gil’s growing,” Tippy said, smiling at the child.
“So is our Tris,” Cash replied. “She’s two now. Rory’s twelve. He’s crazy about his niece.” Rory was Tippy’s younger brother.
“Speaking of Tris,” Tippy grinned, looking past her husband’s shoulder.
Rory had little Tris up in his arms and was carrying her around, laughing. She looked just like her mother, with red hair and green eyes, and she was wearing a pretty little green-patterned cotton dress with white shoes. She was holding on to Rory for all she was worth, talking to him.
Rory, taller now, had dark hair and green eyes, and he obviously doted on the little girl.
“She can walk, you know,” Cash told the boy with a smile.
“She likes it when I carry her, though,” Rory replied, grinning. “Isn’t she just the neatest thing in the world?
” he added, kissing the little girl’s hair.
“You’re spoiling her,” Tippy laughed.
Rory shook his head. “No, I’m not. I just carried her away from the ice cream. She talked Randy into giving her a bowl of it, but I made him take it back.”
“Wanted ice cream, Rory,” Tris pouted. “Bad Rory.”
He only chuckled.
Tippy held out her arms for Tris, who got a tighter hold on her uncle. “No!” she said. “Want Rory!”
Cash looked down at his wife musingly. “So there.”
She laughed, pressing close against him. “All right, Tris,” she told her daughter. “Rory, when your arms get tired, bring her back.”
“Okay, sis.” He went off toward the fenced pasture where horses were grazing.
Harley excused them and drew Sara along with him to the tables where plates of barbecue and beans and rolls were being served up.
“You sure you’re all right?” Harley asked, concerned.
Sara nodded. “It was a shock, that’s all.”
“I don’t like that smarmy lawyer,” he muttered darkly. “But she and her boss do suit one another. They’re both bad company.”
Sara didn’t answer him. She was remembering the hard look Jared had given Max. He hadn’t liked the woman’s reaction to Sara. That was comforting. But her face still stung.
The Latin music played by the Mariachi band had everyone who could walk streaming up onto the wooden dance floor Cy had built for the occasion. Strings of large Japanese lanterns provided light, after the sun went down, and there was a crowd swaying to the rhythm.
Matt Caldwell and his wife, Leslie, were doing a spirited paso doble while Cash and Tippy Grier looked on from the sidelines. They exchanged mischievous glances, got up, held hands and moved onto the dance floor.
“Bet you can’t do a tango,” Cash chided.
Matt gave him a wicked grin. “You lose. Hey, Paco!” he called to the band leader. “Tango!”
The band leader and his band all laughed, stopped playing, measured the rhythm and then sailed into a Tango number that was all fire and passion.
Everybody except the two couples evacuated the dance floor, expecting a real competition.
They got one. It was a duel, and both couples put on their best form for it. As the music built to a crescendo, both couples stopped at the same time, in lingering poses, as the band finished the number.