by Tina Leonard
“I have a romance right here,” Nina said, pulling a paperback from her purse. “If we go to the ranch I could read to you while you drive. I’m a fun reader. The kids love me.”
He tried not to frown. “Romance isn’t my thing.”
“Romance? It’s everybody’s thing. I’ll read you one paragraph now, to see if you don’t like it. How’s that for a deal?”
He could feel the tips of his ears turning red. “I’d feel better if it was a Western.”
“One paragraph. Sharing a book is a great way to get to know each other better.” They sat on a bench down the street from the salon and cafeteria, and, in a soft, lulling voice, Nina began to read, “‘When Domingo Carmichael ran from the burning building with the woman in his arms, he felt explosive heat at his back. Crying out for fear that she would be exposed to the inferno’s blaze, he cradled the naked woman—”’
“Naked?” Navarro interrupted. “He ran out of a burning building with a naked woman in his arms? Guys only get that lucky in romance novels.”
She gave him a narrow gaze. “Real life is stranger than fiction. Or so they say. No more interruptions, please. As I say during story time for the children, ‘Let’s use our best manners and be quiet as mice so everyone can hear!”’
“Yegods.” But he tried not to laugh at her sweet tone. “I get the hint. You just got my visuals arrested with the naked part.”
“Of course. You’re a man.”
“Getting back to the burning building and the sweating hero and the naked lady—”
“‘He cradled the naked woman to his chest. Finally far enough from the blaze, he laid her down near a stream. He took off his shirt and wrapped her in it. “Stay here,” he told Amelie. “You’re safe now. They need my help battling the blaze so it doesn’t spread to the forest. I’ll be back soon.”’ And that’s the end of the prologue,” Nina said. “Chapter one opens in a different place, six years later, with both of them married to other people, who, coincidentally, they are not deeply in love with. They never got over each other, but they both believe the other died.”
“First of all,” Navarro said, “no man lets a naked woman out of his sight.”
“Well, she wasn’t really naked anymore. She had on his shirt.” Nina peered at the cover. “It’s like a chamois color or something, but she’s dressed.”
“She has no undergarments on and that alone would be enough to drive him insane. He’d never leave her. My belief is suspended. I rate that book a C.”
“But he had to do the honorable thing and fight the fire before it reached the forest, Navarro. That’s what makes her love him, that he would sacrifice even his lust for her for the higher good.”
Navarro laughed. “And that’s why I stick to Westerns. I like the reality. All that men being honorable, taking care of the world, then returning to the one good woman who loves them—it’s garbage. It’s just not true.”
She stared at him. “What specifically are you having a problem with?”
He shrugged. “If you were naked, Nina, I would not leave you by a stream for any yahoo to stumble on and do harm to. That’s reality.”
“Oh.”
In fact, the more he thought about a naked Nina in his arms as he carried her off to safety, the tighter his jeans got. He shifted surreptitiously. “It sounds like their location was pretty remote. What if there were…I don’t know, wild animals around? Like crocs in the stream. Or snakes, even. Why would he leave her when he should be protecting her? I wouldn’t leave my naked woman around for the world to see. No way.”
“Oh.”
“You see, I’m right. Because something did happen. They didn’t see each other again for six years. That means his naked lady went somewhere or got taken somewhere by someone. And he should have been there to take care of her and get her to safety. That’s no hero. John Wayne wouldn’t leave his naked woman lying around like an empty pack of Marlboro cigarettes.”
“All right,” Nina said crossly. “Enough with the manly analysis of my one-paragraph experiment. I should have known better than to expect you not to get sidetracked by the visuals.”
“Well, it was a naked woman, come on already.” He glanced at her. “Did you expect I’d be concentrating on the idyllic stream? Don’t get mad, Nina. I am a man. Read on, if it’ll make you feel better. I promise not to interrupt.”
“I can’t read on. I made all that up.” She snapped the paperback shut and put it in her purse.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that I knew we couldn’t share anything more than that kiss. I dream of someday having romance in my charmed bed. You claim to be a realist and a man of action. I knew you would guffaw, cheapen or otherwise submit my romantic escapism to humiliation. In order not to lose the pleasure of reading this book, I made something up to save myself.” Her look was very smug. “And as we both can see, it was a very practical thing for me to do. You did, in fact, guffaw and try to cheapen the story, just because you can’t handle the idea of romance as viable escapism. I own a charmed bed. Romance is part of my internal belief system.”
“Now, look,” Navarro said. “I feel the need to defend myself here. You didn’t give me a hero to believe in. No man leaves his naked woman lying around. Now if you told me he’d gone commando and given her his shirt while he’d left to put out the fire—”
“What do you mean ‘gone commando’?”
How much did a man have to explain to a woman? Especially one he couldn’t help imagining in the buff. He’d put a bet on her bottom being as soft as rose petals. “Gone commando. Sans Calvins. His rider without a jockey.”
“So you’re saying that if he’d given her his underwear as well as his shirt—”
Navarro held up his hand to wave off the topic. “That would be heroic, practical and believable. Having made certain that her lily pads as well as her pussy willows were secure, he could then go battle the fire and save the world. And I’m only using those illustrations because he dumped her by a stream, so don’t get all excited.”
“A man can battle a blaze without underwear.”
He nodded. “Certainly. But he can’t leave his woman without proper covering.”
“Did it ever occur to you that perhaps the heroine could take care of herself?”
“Of course,” he said impatiently. “It’s just that, from the romantic escapism perspective that we’re discussing, the hero knows his lady can do anything. But he chooses to protect her modesty, which demonstrates his total concern and love for her.” He glanced at her, his gaze roaming over her hotly. “It was a good attempt on your part to make a point about my lack of romance appreciation, but you’ll have to concede that my way of telling the story is much more the definition of true romance.”
“I never knew that a man giving a woman his underwear was considered romantic.”
“They say we learn something new every day,” Navarro said, happy to make his point.
“Would I be wearing briefs or boxers?”
He glanced at her. “Neither, hopefully.”
“If you rescued me. Would I be wearing boxers or briefs?”
“Now that’s personal.” He frowned. He’d wondered whether her bras were cotton or satin, but there was no way she’d ever rescue him and loan him a brassiere, so he really couldn’t segue into that question. “But today, you’d be wearing boxers with happy faces and candy canes on them.”
“I’d look lovely in the jungle wearing those. Nothing like big, yellow moon faces and bright red candy canes to keep me camouflaged from the wildlife.”
“Now you tell me.”
“What?”
“You know, boxers or briefs kind of stuff.”
“You want to know if I rescued you today and gave you my most personal article of clothing to protect your modesty, what you’d be wearing?”
Yes, yes, yes! He mentally rubbed his palms together. What does a librarian wear to peruse the card catalog?
“White granny pant
ies that stretch to the third rib,” Nina said.
The visuals dimmed his desire as he considered the elastic required to stretch to the third rib. Okay, Navarro thought, my jeans are more comfortable.
“No comment?” she asked. “No more questions?”
“I think I’m done,” he said.
“Good.” She laughed. “I have trouble seeing you in white granny panties, but it would keep you safe from the wildlife.”
“I reckon. Even the crocs don’t want those.”
“Disappointed?”
He heard the giggle in her tone. “No.”
“You were hoping I’d send you through the jungle in a lacy lavender thong.”
He grunted. The thing about Nina was that she kept him pinned in every corner. “I’d stick with commando. But I’d let you give me your lavender thong and I’d keep it safe to remember you by during the six years the story said we’d be apart. Although I would never lose a woman I loved for six years. Not even for six minutes.” She couldn’t possibly know how personally the Jefferson men took losing their women. His father, Maverick, and Mason were prime examples of one-woman men who never recovered. Actually, their ranching neighbor, Sheriff Cannady, Mimi’s father, could be counted in that category, too.
Dang, I don’t want to end up a head case over a woman. This one already makes me crazy. Bad opening scene to a story, actually.
Nina didn’t comment on his theory. But her face took on a considering expression. Her eyes held his and her lips trembled just a bit.
Oh, yeah, he thought. A lacy lavender thong and man commando. We got ourselves a visual now!
Problem was, his jeans were tight again, Nina had gone silent on him and he was taking a woman home who told her own yarns to keep her romantic illusions safe.
He sighed. “We’ve got trouble, Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle,” he said. “You’re never going to come over to my side.”
“Just protecting my own, cowboy, and worrying about the burning building later.”
“Girding yourself with a lavender thong.”
“We’re writing the hard part now,” Nina said. “The real-life stuff. No happy faces and candy canes.”
He shook his head. “You belong at Malfunction Junction.”
She shook her head. “Don’t try to seduce me. You may kiss fabulously, but now I see that anything more between us is impractical. And though I may be romantic, I have a hugely practical side.”
He pulled her up from the bench. “Come on. You scared me so bad with the granny panties, I’m forced to surrender. From now on, we’re just friends.”
“Friendship is good,” Nina said, wondering why the thought made her feel so alone.
Navarro turned to her. “I have one question.”
“Okay.” She met his gaze.
“What’s with the granny panties-security fence you’re putting up?” His gaze went from her soft, full lips to her wide eyes watching him behind her cat’s-eye spectacles. “’Cause I have a funny feeling you’re not being completely candid with me, Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle.”
Chapter Four
Nina eyed Navarro warily. “What fence?”
“You don’t really think I believe you have on white underwear up to your third rib?” He knew she was fibbing—and every good fib had a reason for a cover-up.
He was sure Nina liked secreting information; she was a good little librarian with a storehouse of the stuff. His peachy card-catalogette.
“I don’t care what you believe,” she said. “My underthings are none of your business.”
“Yeah, but see, that’s what bothers me. It isn’t any of my business. So you go and tell me a huge whopper, which is almost shouting, ‘Check me out! Catch me if you can!”’ He winked at her. “And as I’ve told you before, snippy defiance is almost foreplay for me. By heaven, it is foreplay for me.”
He pulled her tight against him. One kiss should do it. One kiss should be enough to get the ants out of his pants where Nina was concerned. Then he could figure out whether the first kiss had been as good as he’d thought it was—because no kiss should make a man as crazy as that kiss had made him.
Surely he’d been inside the Never Lonely Cut-n-Gurls salon too long, breathing perfume pumped through the air-conditioning system so that a man couldn’t breathe without getting an itch for a woman.
But the air conditioner hadn’t been on, he remembered, and Nina felt just as good in his arms this time as she had before. He was losing his mind, and worse, he was losing his grip on reality. “You’re soft,” he told her.
“You’re really hard,” she murmured between kisses. “And I don’t know why I’m letting you kiss me on the street where anyone can see us.”
“Because we’re slaves to passion,” he said, winding his fingers into her hair so that he could take down that crazy bird’s-nest bun he was pretty sure she’d twisted up to annoy him. “You’re sexually undiscovered, book-stacks-stalking librarian, and I’m the rowdy, irresistible cowboy with a heart of gold to whom the ladies throw lavender thongs.”
Nina laughed, but he wouldn’t let her pull away. So she stayed in his arms, where he wanted her.
“Your reputation is all that?” she asked.
“I’d like to shelve something of yours,” he said, biting her ear gently. “And maybe catalog something.” He sucked where he’d bit. “And then I’m pretty sure I’d charge you an overdue fine.” He slid his hands down to her fanny, tracing along her skirt line. “Tell me you’re overdue. Because I know I am.”
She pulled away and dragged him by the hand toward Marvella’s salon. “You’re scaring me, cowboy. I do not want to be caught out in the jungle where there’s no condom machine.”
“One of us is thinking things through.”
“That’s me. The sensible one. Although you nearly had me losing my sense back there.”
“Well, that will have to be enough to keep me living,” Navarro said, stopping suddenly about a hundred feet from the salon. “What’s going on up there?”
A moving truck was outside, with two men loading up Nina’s precious charmed bed.
Nina began running. “Stop! Stop!”
“Oh, man. The life of a librarian is so dull,” Navarro muttered, hoofing after Nina.
The men saw her coming, shut the doors, jumped inside the truck and drove away before she could get there. “What just happened?” she demanded of Valentine, who was in the doorway, sobbing.
“Before Marvella went to lunch she said I owed her the bed since I was leaving her employment,” Valentine said, “and because I told her I was backing out of the lawsuit. She sent those men to take it. I’m so sorry, Nina. I’ve lost your bed.”
In silence, Nina stared down the street after the truck.
Navarro cleared his throat. “We’ll get it back,” he promised. “Somehow.”
“It’s a well-known antique,” Nina said dully. “We had three offers on that bed, just recently. Many years ago, one of the presidents slept in that bed with his girlfriend. We don’t talk about that, of course, but everyone knew about it at the time.”
“Did she have a baby?” Navarro wanted to know. “Because if she did, that’d be kind of spooky.” When Nina didn’t reply, he sighed and turned to Valentine. “Where’s my brother?”
“Sleeping off the effects of the beers he got out of the fridge,” Valentine said. “That man can’t hold his liquor. Which somewhat reminded me of his younger brother, but I won’t mention that since making comparisons in the family can be hard on a child’s self-esteem.”
He was going to ignore the barb to Last and focus on the reputational issue, Navarro decided. “Not to brag, but all Jeffersons can hold their liquor. Show me my twin. I’m sure he’s just exhausted from the busy afternoon we’ve had here in Lonely Hearts Station.”
He put his arms around Nina, who looked stunned, still staring after the truck. “It’s going to be okay.”
“How dare she?” Nina whispered.
Navarro sighed.
“Marvella just does. Let’s find Crockett and get out of here. Now we’re definitely going to take you to the ranch.”
“My poor bed,” Nina moaned. “It’s been through such an adventure.”
“Maybe one day someone will write a book about it,” Navarro said, secretly worried that Nina might not ever see her beloved bed again. “Back to the ranch to regroup. I need to touch Tara so I can think. You’ve read Gone With The Wind, haven’t you?”
“My Tara’s on a trip in a delivery van,” Nina said sadly.
“I’ll fix it,” Navarro said, hoping he was right. “Nothing bad can happen to it. I promise. I’m sure Marvella can be reasoned with.”
“MARVELLA CAN’T BE reasoned with,” Navarro said an hour later as the four of them met at the truck. He’d tried every angle, but Marvella’d had the bases covered: Valentine’s salary had been paid in advance, Marvella had fired Valentine for incompetence—with no letter of recommendation—and, as her landlord, she had a right to Valentine’s possessions by law to cover expenses. Navarro had put a swift call into Mimi’s husband, Brian, and discovered that Marvella was within her rights due to the signed contract.
He looked at Nina with a heavy heart. “I even offered her money. She wouldn’t take it. Frankly, I think she’s doing this to get to Delilah, somehow, but I can’t prove it.”
Nina sighed. “You tried.”
Valentine sniffled. Crockett, now fully recovered, let out a curse word.
“I shouldn’t have drank that beer,” he said. “It knocked me on my keister.”
“It was Marvella’s house special,” Valentine said. “I didn’t notice what he’d grabbed till it was too late.”
“You left me to take care of your sister,” Crockett said to Nina. “I was supposed to be the keeper of the bed. And I fell asleep on the job.”