24 Hours Bundle

by Jo Leigh

  “In a manner of speaking. I made a few phone calls this morning and I bought the old rodeo arena.”

  “That’s about to be a shopping center.”

  “Not as of twenty minutes ago. The new owner has already accepted my offer.” His eyes glittered with that wild, passionate light she remembered so well from their childhood. “I’m going to renovate the entire place and host rodeo events. During the down time, I’ll utilize it as a training facility for cowboys of all ages and offer different classes for the various events.” He grinned and her heart fluttered. “Kids can practice out there just the way Clay and I used to do.”

  The statement stirred a memory and Deanie saw herself sitting on the sidelines, watching Rance and hoping with all of her heart for a wave or a smile or even a friendly nod of his head.

  The image morphed and the young girl transformed into an adult. Deanie saw herself now, sitting there in her fancy sundress and higher-than-should-be-legally-allowed high heels. But even though she was grown up and different, she still wore the same desperate look of longing for a man she loved with all her heart.

  A man who didn’t love her back.

  “Good luck to you,” she told him, swallowing against the lump in her throat. “I hope everything works out.”

  He shook his head. “Didn’t you hear me? I’m going home. I’ll be right there in Romeo. We’ll see each other every day.”

  “No, we won’t. I live in Dallas now. I’ve got a job there and I already leased an apartment—”

  “So break the lease. You don’t belong in Dallas. You hate traffic and concrete and malls. And Dallas is loaded with all three.”

  “I’ve actually developed quite a fondness for malls. I’ve been to the one in Austin at least six times over the past month. I’m sure I’ll get used to the rest.”

  “The way you’ve gotten used to the do-me shoes.” He glanced down at the flip-flops she’d slid on in her rush to checkout of the hotel and make her flight.

  “I’m in a hurry and I can’t walk as fast in them. But that doesn’t mean I don’t like them. Or that they hurt my feet in any way, shape or form. I’ve really got to go.” She pulled away from him and headed across the pavement toward the staircase that led to the plane.

  “Don’t do this, Deanie. Don’t get on that plane. Please.” The word was soft, but it packed a powerful punch that she felt between her rib cage. “You belong in Romeo.”

  She did.

  She knew it deep down inside and it stirred her fear and panic and made her pick up her steps.

  Because Deanie didn’t want to go back to her old life. She didn’t want to find herself back in Romeo, lusting after a man who didn’t love her. Things would be a little different now because he returned that lust—the past twenty-four hours proved it—but everyone knew that lust faded.

  She didn’t want to wind up sitting on that corral fence, waiting and hoping for him to glance her way.

  “You belong with me.”

  His deep, desperate voice stalled Deanie just shy of the first step. Her fingers tightened on the hand rail and her breath caught and she knew what he was going to say even before the words slid into her ears.

  “I love you.”

  “Love?” She turned on him. “We’ve been together all of twenty-four hours and now you think you love me?”

  “We’ve been together a lifetime and I know I love you.” His fierce gaze caught and held hers as he crossed the distance to her. “I’ve always loved you, I just didn’t realize it.” He came up to her, so close that his shadow blocked the sun that blazed overhead. “I was too lost in my own problems. Too mad at the world because I’d lost my parents and my home. But I still had you. You were there for me. You made me want to wake up every morning because I knew I’d see you on the bus. I knew you’d be there.”

  All the pain and heartache she’d felt in the past paled in comparison to the pure joy that rushed through her at that moment. She wanted to think that he was just saying the words to stop her from getting on the plane, to fulfill his promise to her brother.

  But she knew better.

  She’d felt the proof last night when he’d held her so tenderly, so possessively in his arms. And she saw the proof now in the fierce light that gleamed in his gaze.

  He really and truly loved her.

  And she loved him.

  She always had.

  She’d loved him more than she’d ever loved anyone or anything. More than her favorite horse or a brand-new computerized transmission. More than her pride. More than her ego. More than herself.

  The realization hit her as she stood there in his shadow, the hot pavement seeping up through the soles of her flip-flops.

  “I love you, too,” she told him, and then she turned and mounted the steps leading to the plane.

  “You’re running away,” he said, but he didn’t reach for her. His voice followed her up the steps. “You’re scared and you’re running.”

  He was right. She was running.

  But not from him.

  Deanie was running from herself. From the tomboy who’d never been good enough personally or professionally or sexually.

  She would always be running unless she changed the things about herself that had marked her for failure from the very beginning. She had to finish what she’d started.

  Wiping frantically at a tear that squeezed past her lashes, she ignored the concerned look of the flight attendant as she topped the staircase and walked on board the plane. A few seconds later, she sank down in a window seat and took a deep, shaking breath.

  She’d done it. She’d walked away this time, and taken her heart with her.

  So why did she feel as if someone had reached inside of her and ripped it out?

  Wiping at a sudden flood of hot tears, she blinked frantically and tried to focus on her surroundings. The plane looked the same as the one she’d been on yesterday, from the cheesy heart-shaped cutouts to the red and white streamers in honor of Valentine’s Day.

  Today.

  Deanie was no worse off today than she’d been on any other V-day in her past, yet she felt even emptier. Lonelier.

  Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all…

  Yeah, right.

  She chanced a glance out the window to see Rance standing where she’d left him, staring at the plane, his fists clenched, his body taut, as if it took all his strength not to barrel up the steps after her.

  It was an image that stayed rooted in her mind as she fastened her seat belt and waited for takeoff.

  “DO YOU MIND if we sit next to you?”

  The question drew Deanie from her thoughts and she glanced up to see an elderly woman wearing a beige polyester pantsuit and a matching scarf.

  The plane had just turned to taxi down the runway. The aircraft trembled as it moved across the pavement and the woman held the back of one seat to brace herself. She smiled, her face crinkling, and Deanie found herself reminded of Miss Margie and all the other senior ladies who’d been her loyal customers over the years.

  Her chest tightened.

  “My husband and I both have terrible allergies,” the woman went on, “and the lady sitting on our row has cat hair all over her sweater.”

  “I don’t mind at all,” Deanie said just as the flight attendant walked up to them.

  “Take your seats, please,” the young woman said. “We’re about to taxi the runway.”

  “We’re just about to.” The old woman signaled to her husband who still sat a few rows back. “It’s okay, dear. Hurry up and don’t forget to bring my purse.” She angled sideways and took the seat next to Deanie. “There.” She fastened her seat belt. “Now I can breathe again. So,” she turned to Deanie. “Are you headed to Eden or back to Miami?”

  “Eden. I got off to take a breather yesterday when we reached Escapades and the plane took off without me.”

  “How terrible. But hopefully you enjoyed your stay at Escapades. It’s a beautiful island.
My husband and I always stop off on our way to Eden.”

  “You’re headed there? I didn’t think they allowed couples. I thought it was strictly for individuals.”

  “It is. We’re not students, dear. We’re instructors. I have a masters in social psychology from the University of California at Berkeley, and Marvin, my dear sweet husband, has his doctorate in human sexuality. We teach a seminar on the sexual excitement of public exposure.”

  “Come again?”

  “Streaking, dear. Our seminar is about streaking.” Just as she said the words, her husband collapsed in the seat next to her.

  Deanie stared at the familiar face that turned toward her—a face she’d seen not a few hours ago, along with all the rest of him—and realization hit her.

  There had been two streakers at Escapades, and they were now both sitting next to her.

  “Streaking?” Deanie cleared her throat and tried not to blush as she smiled at Dr. Marvin. “How, um, exactly does that fit with the whole getting in touch with your own sexuality premise?”

  “For some individuals, there is no pleasure in actual intercourse. Some people are just too inhibited to share such an intimate act with a partner. Right, Marvin?” He grunted, settling back into his chair as if all were right with the world and Deanie hadn’t seen him in his birthday suit.

  “Or maybe,” the woman went on, “they simply don’t have an available partner. Or, as is our case, maybe they’re just too old to enjoy traditional sex. Marvin, dear that he is, hasn’t had an erection in a long time. Likewise, I can’t even remember what an orgasm feels like. But that doesn’t mean we have to lead boring lives sexually. We can still feel the same rush of excitement that we used to without actual doing anything.”

  “Except streaking?”

  “Exactly. The thrill of being out in the open can stimulate the heart and bloodstream as much as an actual sexual encounter.”

  Deanie thought back to last night and the beach and Rance. She’d been out in the open and very excited even before she’d touched him and he’d touched her. Likewise, she’d been completely turned on when he’d touched her earlier at the pool.

  But it was one thing to get worked up over the possibility of discovery and quite another to strip naked and openly flash her goodies to anyone who happened by.

  Or, in Professor Marvin’s case, to openly flop it at anyone who happened by.

  “Not to mention,” the old woman went on, “there’s the added bonus of sharing yourself with more than one person. Group encounters can be very healthy and enlightening. You’ll learn more about that when you reach Eden…”

  The engine roared and the plane started down the runway. Deanie clutched the arms of her seat and did her best to ignore the hollowness in the pit of her stomach. And her chest.

  Instead, she focused on the old woman who went on to fill Deanie in on the health benefits—both mental and physical—of publicly exposing one’s self.

  What the hell am I doing?

  The thought struck fifteen minutes later as they started their descent.

  You’re changing. Evolving. Getting in touch with your inner female.

  The trouble was, Deanie’s inner female wasn’t any more enlightened than her outer female. If getting in touch with her sexuality meant streaking buck naked through a crowd of people, then she was doomed to stay out of touch.

  No way was Deanie shedding her clothes in front of a classroom of people, not even for education’s sake.

  Some might call her naive and unsophisticated, and they would be right. Deanie was both.

  She still believed in one man and one woman. She believed in love and commitment and romance and leaving a few things to the imagination. And she knew, deep down inside, that no makeover, no matter how extreme, was going to change that.

  “Aren’t you getting off?” the old woman asked when they rolled to a stop and she and her husband stood to file off the plane.

  “No, ma’am.” Deanie refastened her seat belt. “I’m going home.”

  RANCE STOOD OUT in front of the Feed-n-Seed in downtown Romeo and stared across the street. It was only February, but the air was already starting to heat up, foreshadowing the blistering summer that would soon follow. A drop of perspiration slid down Rance’s temple, but the heat gripping him had nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the woman who’d taken up shop in the newly renovated building that sat directly in his line of vision.

  A new sign, just delivered and installed that afternoon, sat out front of the green and white building that had once been home to the Senior Ladies’ group, all of whom had been Deanie’s most loyal customers. They’d shown their support of the town’s only female mechanic by pooling their money and helping to fund Romeo’s newest business.

  He eyed the sign, white like the building, with big green letters that read Deanie’s Auto Repair.

  He tipped his cowboy hat back and searched for a glimpse of the owner the way he’d done every day for the past two weeks since Valentine’s Day and their twenty-four hour interlude.

  The longest two weeks of Rance’s life.

  He wanted her so damned much that his first instinct when he’d heard she’d come home was to drive over to her place, hitch her over his shoulder, take her into the house and love her until she trusted him as much as she loved him.

  That was the key ingredient they were missing. While she loved him, she didn’t trust him enough to believe that he really loved her.

  She knew he lusted after her, and taking her to bed would just prove it.

  So he’d kept his distance and bided his time, busying himself with the renovation on the old rodeo arena and hoping like hell she came to her senses. He’d been sleeping on a cot in the main office, putting off actually finding a place of his own until she came around.

  But he’d just about reached his limit.

  He spotted her through the window that led to the office of her shop and his heart skipped its next beat. As if she sensed his presence, she turned and caught his stare through the window.

  It took everything Rance had not to cross the street, but he kept his boots rooted to the pavement and tipped his hat instead. He wasn’t going to screw this up by rushing in and bullying her the way she’d done him so many times in the past when they’d been kids.

  Rance had something a damned sight different in mind. Something romantic. Something a woman like Deanie Codge wouldn’t be able to resist.

  At least that’s what he told himself. He could only hope like hell that he was right.

  DEANIE STOOD in the massive garage that had once hosted bingo parties and Friday afternoon lunches and blinked. Once, twice, but they didn’t disappear.

  They, as in flowers. Red roses, to be exact. Everywhere she looked. They sat in vases in the corners and on the machinery she’d recently purchased thanks to the senior ladies and a small bank loan. There were roses on the wall-to-wall toolboxes. Her refurbished hydraulic lift. They sat in front of her mountain of oil cans and her computerized transmission test unit.

  “Happy Valentine’s Day.” The deep husky voice drew her attention to the doorway that led from a small office area to the garage.

  She turned to find Rance standing not more than two feet away. He wore faded jeans, a white T-shirt and dusty boots, and he looked every bit the real cowboy now that he’d come home.

  She blinked to make sure it was really him because she’d imagined him there too many times over the past two weeks to actually believe it.

  But he didn’t disappear this time.

  She’d seen him around town, but he’d kept his distance and so she’d kept hers, concluding that it had been exactly what she’d feared. Lust, not love. At least on his part, and now it was over.

  Finit.

  Th-that’s all folks!

  But now that she saw him up close, she wasn’t so sure. He didn’t look anything like a man who’d moved on to bigger and better things.

  “You look terrible.�
� She noted the taut lines around his mouth and the dark shadows beneath his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept in weeks.

  Two weeks, to be exact.

  “And you look good enough to eat.” His gaze roamed her from head to toe, pausing at all the interesting spots in between.

  As if she were standing there wearing a sexy teddy rather than old, faded navy blue overalls, her hair pulled up beneath a baseball cap.

  As if.

  Even as the doubt rolled through her mind, it didn’t stir her insecurity. Because Deanie hadn’t just come home two weeks ago. She’d come to the realization that she actually liked herself. She wasn’t perfect and pretty and sexy like a lot of other women, but that was okay. Being all of those things didn’t guarantee success when it came to relationships—Savannah Sierra Ellington had shown her that much.

  Likewise, Mavoreen had shown her that a woman didn’t have to be any of those things to be wildly successful.

  The key, Deanie had come to realize, was being happy with who you were. Content.

  Deanie was both of those things now that she’d come back to her element. And she was no longer willing to accept a man who couldn’t see beyond her rough exterior. She wanted one who appreciated the fact that she had a wrench and knew how to use it as much as he appreciated the size of her breasts or the length of her legs.

  A man who looked at her with his whiskey-colored eyes as if he wanted to eat her up right then and there.

  A man who would send her flowers—a whole garage full of them—for Valentine’s Day.

  She frowned. “It’s not Valentine’s Day.”

  “Not technically. But I was hoping we could still celebrate.” He crossed the distance to her and handed her a heart made out of red construction paper. “Will you be my valentine?” Before she could reply, he shook his head. “To hell with that.” His gaze grew fierce. “I love you, Deanie, and I want you to be a helluva lot more than my valentine. I want you to be my wife.”

  She stared down at the heart she held in her hands before lifting her gaze to the man who’d held her heart in his for so many years.

  And still did.