She slipped down from the seat and met his tense gaze. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I wish I were.” He frowned, forestalling her comments as he urged her toward the entrance. “Let’s go shopping.”
“I think I’d rather talk about you.”
“No such luck,” he said with finality. He opened the glass door. “Come on. Let’s go find some accessories I’ll love.”
Robin shook her head and frowned. Ethan was in a strange mood today, but at least she’d gotten him to the antique mall. With a little luck, they’d find some great items. With a little skill, she hoped to talk him out of his dark mood before it was time to return to Ranger Springs.
“WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THIS?” Robin asked, holding up a framed Texas flag about the size of a diploma.
“The frame looks a little beat-up,” Ethan said, eyeing the aged wood skeptically. The poor thing looked like it had been stored in someone’s tool-shed for about two decades.
Robin laughed. “It’s supposed to look that way. It’s called ‘distressing.’ The wood is sometimes old, like off a barn or fence, but sometimes new wood is chemically treated, scarred, hammered or just soaked in water and lye to make it appear aged.”
Ethan shook his head. “Whatever. You’re the decorator.” Actually, he found this whole shopping experience “distressing.” Robin chatted away, placed her hand on his arm when she wanted his attention, and even grabbed him occasionally when she found something that excited her.
Maybe he should have gone shopping with women before. He hadn’t realized someone else’s old stuff could be so exciting. Then again, he’d be competing for attention against metal trays, cut-glass candy dishes and old wood frames. The idea that women found those items more exhilarating than a flesh-and-blood man was a little disheartening.
Hell, it was a lot disheartening. He’d meant what he’d said earlier to Robin; he wasn’t particularly interesting or exciting to women. At least, that was the impression he’d gotten from women in the past—two particular women. They used words like “stable” and “solid” to describe him. In his book, those terms meant he didn’t set their hearts aflutter.
Maybe when he’d been an FBI agent, just because of the perceived danger of the occupation. But a small-town cop? No way had that improved his image as dating material. Or as marriage material—not that he was looking. The phrase “Been there, done that” applied doubly in his case.
“Ethan, I want you to approve of the purchases. After all, this is your house.”
“I know, but like I told you before, I’m not good at this decorating stuff. Give me a target range or a city council meeting, and I’m fine. Put me in an antique mall, and I’m like a duck out of water.”
“I understand,” she said with a sigh. “Just promise me you’ll let me know if you really don’t like something I’ve picked out.”
“I promise.” He reached out and snagged the framed Lone Star flag. “I’ll hold on to this for you.”
“Okay.” She turned her attention back to the row of booths, each rented by a different person. The proprietors seemed to specialize in different items. One might have lots of toys, while another had china plates and teacups.
His eyes settled on a booth at the end. “I’m going to wander down there,” he told Robin.
She nodded, caught up in assessing an old pickle crock.
A few minutes later, she joined him. “What did you find?”
“I’m not sure this would work, but I kind of like these old license plates.” He turned and smiled. “Kind of ties in with my law enforcement career.”
“Oh, I see. Patrolling the streets and all that.”
“And locking the bad guys up so they can turn out these babies in prison.”
Robin laughed. “An excellent choice. Which ones did you like?”
A few minutes later, she had an armful of the somewhat rusty, sometimes bent plates. He was about to take them from her, when one of the ladies he’d seen up front joined them in the aisle.
“Can I put those at the counter for you?” she asked with a friendly smile.
“Yes, thank you,” Robin replied. “We still have a lot of shopping to do.”
Ethan shook his head, rolling his eyes a bit to tease her.
The clerk laughed. “Husbands are always like that. They never want to shop, but they’re always ready to complain when we spend their money.”
Ethan opened his mouth to tell the woman he and Robin weren’t married, but she’d already turned and walked away.
“A common assumption,” Robin explained.
“Not for me,” he said, wondering just how much like a couple they appeared. He’d tried damn hard to make sure no one in Ranger Springs matched him up with a single woman. Even when he went to statewide meetings, he acted polite but professional around the women in law enforcement. He didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea. One simple shopping trip, and this lady had him married to Robin Cummings.
He took a deep breath, then exhaled, pushing the image out of his mind. What a disaster they’d be together, with her fancy, city ways and his low-key, small-town life-style. He’d be surprised if she lasted the two months of her agreement, much less a lifetime.
No, women like Robin weren’t for him, at least in the long run. If he’d met her while he was in Houston, and she wasn’t connected through their aunts, then maybe…yes, definitely, he would have pursued her. Spent some good times with her. Maybe had a hot and passionate short-term affair.
But not like this. Not in his town, with many eyes on them. He couldn’t risk the concern people would show. He didn’t want to endure their sympathy when Robin left town with a chunk of his heart.
“Ethan?”
He turned his attention back to Robin, who was frowning at him.
“What’s wrong? You looked like you were a million miles away.”
“I’m fine,” he said, guiding her out of the booth and back into the aisle. Her arm felt warm and firm beneath his fingers, her skin so incredibly soft that he had a hard time keeping his mind on the task at hand. “Let’s finish shopping. I’m about ready for lunch.”
“They have a tearoom here at the antique mall.”
Ethan made a rude noise, then softened his opinion with a smile. “How about some real food? Barbecue? Tex-Mex?”
Robin laughed. “I should have remembered who I was with. No sissy food for you, right?”
“Damn straight, woman,” he said in a cross between a drawl and a growl.
Robin laughed, then stopped. “Seriously, Ethan, you’re doing great. I know how much men hate to shop, especially at places like this.”
Again, he was amazed by the warmth he felt when she touched him, or when he touched her. And her smell, so clean and lightly floral, drifted across the heated air separating them.
“I’m trying my best,” he said, looking down into the depths of her brown eyes. I’m trying my best to keep my hands off you, and to remember we didn’t meet in Houston and we aren’t going to have a short but hot fling.
Just then a big burly guy, wearing low slung jeans and a tan work shirt, looking as though he might drive an eighteen-wheeler or a tow truck, plowed down the aisle. As he passed, he scratched his whiskers with one hand as he clutched a delicate porcelain figurine in the other.
“Well, maybe some men like to shop,” Robin whispered, breaking the mood with her quip.
Ethan chuckled. “If that’s what it takes, I’ll try to be more of the sensitive modern male.”
Robin smiled. “I like you just fine the way you are.”
His heart beat a little faster as he walked beside her, but he didn’t dare say anything.
“For a client, you’re okay,” she added. He realized that once again he’d allowed his libido to outdistance his brain. He really had to get his thoughts and desires under control, or this decorating project was going to turn into a real pain in the…neck.
ON MONDAY after the shopping trip, Robin paused befor
e knocking on Ethan’s door to adjust her royal-blue, sleeveless cotton sweater over the waistband of off-white pleated shorts. When she called on a client in Houston or the suburbs, she wore simple, stylish dresses, or slacks and tops. Since there was nothing hotter on the face of this planet than panty hose worn during a Texas summer, a wardrobe of shorts and sandals while working was an enormous bonus.
He finally opened the door after she’d knocked twice. Instead of the coolly composed Ethan she’d come to expect, he appeared frazzled. His dark hair looked as if he’d run his fingers through it again and again. His shirt wasn’t fully buttoned, exposing more of his broad chest than she’d seen before. A nice view, but she had to wonder what was wrong.
“Is this a bad time?” she asked, as he pulled the door wide.
“No, it’s not. I’ve just been on the phone since I got home. I hardly had time to change.” He looked down at his partially open shirt, then quickly fastened the two errant buttons. “Sorry. I guess I really didn’t have enough time to change.”
“It’s okay,” she said, stepping inside. She felt sympathy for anyone who was having a bad day, because she’d been there often enough herself. In the past three weeks, she’d made a major decision about her future, re-evaluated her relationships and decided to start over. She placed her hand on his bare forearm. “I can come back at another time if you’d like.”
He looked down at her hand, pale against his darker tan. Her nails, kept fairly short because of her work, rested against some very impressive muscle. The gesture had been instinctive, something she would do to any friend, but suddenly she felt as though she’d crossed an invisible barrier. He must have felt it, too, because he slowly pulled his arm away.
When she looked into his eyes, she saw heat that had nothing to do with the Texas summer. His cheeks appeared a bit flushed, and he held himself so very still that the two of them seemed momentarily frozen in time. She heard the sounds of the afternoon—a car slowly traveling down the road in front of his house, birds chirping all around them, a lawn mower buzzing in the distance—but she couldn’t have moved if her life depended on it.
Seconds later, he took a deep breath and broke the spell. She let her hand fall to her side as she felt a blush creep down her neck from her own hot cheeks. “I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay.” He stepped back, giving her even more space. “Come on in. Let’s get started.”
“Ethan, are you sure?”
“Positive.” He sounded impatient, almost angry. “I made enough dinner for two. If you haven’t eaten, you’re welcome to join me.”
She resisted saying “Are you sure?” again. Instead, she opted for a more professional tone. Something to diffuse the unexpected tension at the doorway just now. “That would be lovely.”
Since she was so familiar with the house by now, she walked into the breakfast area and placed her materials on the table. Ethan followed with an opened box he picked up from the coffee table.
“Is that the blanket?” she asked, when he placed it beside her things on the table.
“Yes. It’s a bit smaller than I remember, but I still like the colors.” He pulled the blanket from the plastic bag his mother had obviously used to store it for many years. “We bought this in Arizona when we went on vacation one summer. I must have been eight or nine. I remember my dad saying we had too much stuff in the car already, but my mother just kept negotiating with the owner of the shop.”
Ethan stopped to stroke the thick weaving. “In the end, my dad gave in, although he put on a show of grumbling. My mother usually got her way,” Ethan added with a smile.
“They must have been very close.”
“Yes, they were. Still are,” he said, shaking off the memories. “Happily retired in West. I’m just glad they didn’t decide to throw away all my old stuff. I’d almost forgotten about this blanket until you started insisting I must have something personal.”
“Most people have things of importance, but over the years they get pushed back in drawers or tops of closets and temporarily forgotten. It’s nice to bring them out and use them in the decor.”
“If you say so.” He shook his head and grinned ruefully. “If I tried this on my own, I’m afraid it would look like I stuck an old blanket on the wall.”
Robin laughed. “I’ll make sure the whole room looks good together. After all, that’s why you’re paying me the big bucks.”
Ethan looked surprised for a moment, then realized she was teasing. They’d already agreed upon a fee, which she’d kept at a minimum because of the “fringe benefits” of working with the sexy police chief. Not that she was going to acknowledge the attraction she felt any more than he was going to take any action to change their status.
He chuckled, but Robin felt his mind still wasn’t one-hundred percent involved in the decorating project, or even in their conversation. He must have had a bad day, but since his job was so often confidential, she didn’t feel comfortable asking.
Besides, saying the equivalent of “Honey, how was your day?” seemed way too intimate for two friendly acquaintances. Or a client and a professional.
Robin pushed the decorating materials and blanket aside, while Ethan finished preparations on the dinner. Within a few minutes, she had glasses of iced tea on his mint-green place mats, and he’d deposited a bowl of chicken and dumplings in the middle of the oak table. After adding a green salad for each of them, he took his seat.
“Is this one of Aunt Bess’s frozen meals?”
“No, I made this one myself yesterday afternoon. Every now and then, I decide to cook.”
“I’m impressed,” she said, as the steam wafted toward her. “Smells delicious.”
He looked at her sideways, a fork full of lettuce and cucumber poised near his mouth. “Surprised I didn’t scorch it?”
The obvious reference to her own disastrous “cooking” made her lift her eyebrows. “Not really. I know lots of men who can cook.”
“How about your ex-fiancé? Did he know his way around the kitchen?”
Surprised by the question, Robin paused before attacking her salad. “No, he didn’t. The only time he went into the kitchen was to get a beer out of the refrigerator or to add ice to his glass.”
“Hmm.” Ethan devoted his attention to his food.
“Not that he was a big drinker. Just socially. He simply wasn’t handy in the kitchen.”
“I suppose you two were planning on eating out a lot.”
“Well, yes, I suppose we were.” She wondered why Ethan was asking these questions, making these comments. He was in an strange mood tonight—different than on Saturday, but still more moody than usual—and she wished she understood why. “Is that so odd?”
“Not in a big city like Houston, I suppose. Here in a small town, yeah, it’s pretty odd.”
“Well, we didn’t live in a small town,” she said, getting irritated with his comments. “We were planning on living in his town house for several years. Perhaps moving into a larger house later.” If they’d decided to have children, which they’d never seriously discussed. She put her fork beside her plate. “Why are you making our lives sound like something…unnatural?”
He pushed away from the table, then carried his bowl of half-eaten salad into the kitchen. She watched him run his fingers through his hair again, leaving it even more disheveled.
“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to pick a fight. I’ve just had a long day, and then I saw you…” He walked back to the table, took a seat and dished out the chicken and dumplings. “I shouldn’t take my bad mood out on you.”
“I agree with you. If you didn’t want to meet tonight, you could have said so.”
“I want to get this decorating project started. Heck, I want to get it finished.”
Robin began to understand. Ethan’s world was being disrupted. He was acting out, as many people did when they were in the midst of an upheaval. And as his decorator, she was the cause because she forced them to make decisions, t
hen had their carpets ripped out, their walls painted, their cabinets stripped. “I understand. Decorating sounds like such a pleasant little diversion, but then reality sets in.”
He looked at her intently across the short distance. Steam seemed to rise from him as well as from the bowl between them. “You’re right. Reality has set in. I’ll try to keep things in perspective.”
“And I’ll try to keep your life from being too disrupted.”
Ethan nodded—even though Robin was already proving a disruption to his well ordered life.
IF ETHAN DIDN’T GET AWAY from her soon, he was going to do something he’d regret. He’d made it through dinner with her tonight. He’d survived the shopping trip to the antique mall, where they’d been mistaken for a married couple. For the past two days, he’d sat beside her on the couch and looked at magazines, swatches of fabric, chips of paint and various other decorative touches she thought might be good for his house.
But what was good for his house, he’d soon discovered, was killing him.
“I’ll arch the iron stars above the framed flag, then use the rest to anchor the corners of the blanket,” Robin said, laying out the rusty metal pieces on the coffee table. “How does that sound?”
“Fine.” He shifted on the cushions, wondering how long he’d have to sit here tonight and endure her soft fragrance and sexy voice.
“Now all we have to do is decide on the wall color.” She started sorting through the paint samples, bending over the coffee table. Her sleek, golden hair slid forward along her jaw, making his fingers itch to touch it.
He had to admit this truth: he couldn’t be around Robin without wanting her. Oh, he’d tried. He’d told himself a hundred times that she was a family friend. A newcomer in town. A lonely, recently unattached young woman in a strange place. There were a dozen reasons why he absolutely couldn’t become involved with Robin Cummings.
And then there was the issue of the ex-fiancé. When Ethan had first met Robin, he’d felt sorry for the jilted guy. Hell, he’d identified with him! Now all he could think about was some other guy spending his days—and nights—with Robin. The more he thought about it, the more angry he became. He knew his feelings were irrational. Dammit, the whole relationship with her was crazy! They were as mismatched as fine crystal and jelly jar glasses.
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