“I do appreciate your help.”
“You’re welcome.” No lifting of his chin. No meeting of her eyes. Where was the smile? The charm? Why wasn’t he pushing her buttons like he loved to do?
“So, this dress-shopping thing, any idea when you want to pull the trigger on it?” Now why had she gone and brought that up? She was half hoping he’d forgotten that part of their deal, although she did need to buy a dress for the event. Mostly she wore jeans, shorts, T-shirt or Western shirt, and shoes appropriate for gardening. It wasn’t that she didn’t know how to dress the part. She’d done the whole high heels, tight dresses, and plunging necklines when she’d been skinny, but after she’d let go of the partying and sexcapades and settled into being herself, she hadn’t bought those kinds of clothes.
He still did not glance up or answer her. She cut a piece of twine from the roll with her Swiss Army knife and passed it to him. The tips of their fingers touched. An immediate fire blazed up her arm, but he didn’t even flinch.
“Thanks.” He whipped the twine around the newspapered fern quick as a roper hog-tying a downed calf, set the plant aside, and reached for another one.
“Once I get finished with this plant moving, I’ll have a lot of time on my hands,” she said. “My only obligation at that point is the gardening class so I could go shopping with you anytime. I heard Wayland’s Western Wear got in some new dresses.”
He was back to not talking.
“Of course, they’ve got more clothing options in Marfa with that arty bunch, but their offerings tend to be offbeat and funky and that’s not really my style.”
“We’re not going shopping in Marfa.”
“So Wayland’s Western Wear? What day?”
“Twine.”
She cut off another piece for him. “Except I don’t think Melody would approve of a Western-style dress. Not for a thousand-dollar-a-plate dinner. She’s got a New York frame of mind about such things.”
He raised his head and looked at her with a smoldering gaze. No trace of his cocky smile. Was he mad at her for some reason? He stared at her so long and hard that she was missing those earlier moments when he wasn’t looking at her.
Intimidated, Lace gulped, but she wasn’t going to be the first to glance away. No sir. Why did he have to be so hot?
A heartbeat passed. Then two. Then three. Frigging Venus flytrap, she hadn’t been in a stare down this intense since … well … she’d never been in a stare down this intense.
Lace licked her lips. Was he going to kiss her? He looked like he might kiss her.
He did not make a move.
Okay, fine. Good. She did not want him to kiss her anyway. Nice to see he was behaving himself.
Finally, she couldn’t take the staring one second longer. “What?” she asked. “What is it?”
“Clearly.” He dragged the word out long and slow. “You weren’t paying attention. Our deal was that I take you shopping and I pick out your dress. There will be no Wayland’s Western Wear involved.”
Why did the thought of him dressing her make her hot? Really, she should be insulted. “You’re still insisting on that silly stipulation?”
His jaw tightened. “I am.”
“All right. I agreed, so I’ll do it, but I want to go on record that it’s reluctantly.”
“Duly noted.”
“So where and when is this shopping trip to occur?”
“My father has an appointment with a specialist in San Antonio a week from next Monday,” he said. “Meet us then at the Cupid Airport at nine A.M.”
“You’re flying instead of driving?”
“Dad’s pretty uncomfortable these days, six hours in a car is too long. I have the money to charter a private jet, so I’m doing it,” Pierce said. He pulled a palm down his mouth and for the first time, she noticed faint worry lines at the corners of his eyes.
Her stomach dropped. Here she was, being so silly over this sexual chemistry, obsessing over clothes shopping with him and trying to second-guess what he was thinking. Obviously, he’d been worried about his father and she’d been blathering about Wayland’s Western Wear. How could she have been so self-absorbed?
“I’m so sorry that Abe’s condition is deteriorating. I can’t imagine how difficult this is for you.”
He looked at her with woeful eyes. His smile had disappeared and his voice lowered, deepened. “I’m scared of losing him, Lace, and so soon after Mom.”
His raw vulnerability cut right through her. Gone was the cocky jock with his hard, driving desire to conquer the world, and in his place was a simple cowboy who was hurting. When he was like this—oh, she was in a field of trouble. She had no intention of touching him, really she did not, but somehow her hand reached out and took his.
They sat on the cement floor of the greenhouse, simply holding hands. Lace raised her eyes to meet Pierce’s gaze and in that split second, the earth moved. This was what she had dreamed of twelve years ago, a quiet moment, just the two of them, unified. It was better than she’d imagined it could ever be. The energy was so overwhelming that she gulped.
His pupils dilated. Completely irresistible.
Her pulse kicked. Rattled. She was rattled like devil’s claw seedpods.
“Lace.” He said her name in that provocative way of his and squeezed her hand.
Her mouth was dry and her stomach felt as if she’d just downed a gallon of seltzer all fizzy and bubbly. Bliss. Utter bliss. Mixed with a dash of uncertainty, a hop of hope, and a whisper of Uh-oh, you’re in quicksand.
“Yes?” she whispered, mesmerized by him, the beauty of the moment, and every amazing thing she was feeling. What was he going to say?
“I can’t wait to see that curvy body of yours in something besides T-shirts and jeans.”
Seriously? Here she’d been thinking he was going to say something earth-shatteringly romantic and instead he reverted back to swaggering jock. Stupid woman. Hadn’t she learned a long time ago not to romanticize him? She dropped his hand, pressed the heel of her palm against his sternum, and shoved him backward.
He rubbed three fingers along his chest. “What did I do?”
“If you don’t know, then I’m not going to tell you.”
He scratched his head and pondered that. “I seem to have a knack for pissing you off.”
“I can take it from here,” she said. “My cousins will be back soon to help me load the plants. Thanks for stopping by.”
“I’m dismissed?”
“Yes.”
“Why is that?”
Because seriously, if you don’t leave soon, I am going to kiss you. “I have to spend all day with you on Monday, won’t that be suffering enough?” she quipped.
His eyes lit up and he waggled a knowing finger at her. “Protest all you want, Lacy girl, you’re not fooling me.”
She started to roll her eyes, but thought better of it. She didn’t want him thinking that he made her feel insecure, even if he did. “Who, me?”
“No matter how much you try to deny it, you like me.”
“Perhaps in the same way I like Pachypsylla celtidismamma.”
“Dis mama what?”
“Pachypsylla celtidismamma.”
“What’s that?”
“Nipple galls.”
He raised a suggestive eyebrow, flaunted that quirky grin. “Sounds like a sex toy.”
“Only in the mind of a pervert. Nipple galls are those bumps you sometimes see on the backs of tree leaves such as the hackberry and—”
“Yeah, I’ve seen that before.”
“The nipple galls are caused by psyllids—”
“What’s that?”
“If you’d stop interrupting, I’d tell you. Let’s put this a way you can understand.” She made a big production of slowing her speech. “Nipple galls are essentially cocoons for tiny little flying insects called pysllids.”
“So you like me in the same way as you like—”
“Ugly parasitic bumps on hackberry tree leaves
.”
“Wow, you sure took the long route to that insult. You could have just said you liked me about as much as a pile of all-natural fertilizer or something along those lines.”
“Clichéd. Besides, what would have been the fun in that?”
“You’ve just proven my point,” he crowed.
“How’s that?”
“You’re having fun. If you didn’t like me, you wouldn’t be having fun, but don’t worry, you don’t have to admit it. I know you like me.” He winked.
Lace fought the burn heating up her cheeks. Flytrap. He was right. “How come you don’t have a girlfriend? Or maybe you do and you’re coming onto me anyway.”
“I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Why not?”
“She left me when I broke my leg.”
Her heart gave a strange little tug. “She sounds like a real peach.”
“She claimed it was for my own good. Said she wasn’t worthy of me.”
“Sounds like a peachy bitch. She’s not worthy of you.” Yes, sometimes he irritated her and yes, she was scared of falling in love with him and getting hurt all over again, but he was a good guy. She knew a lot of the macho playboy crap was for show. That’s what had Lace worried. The empathy he stirred in her.
He laughed. “You do have a way with words.”
“Even though you’re better off without her, that must have been a kick in the teeth to get dumped when you were already flat on your back.”
He stroked his thumb against the backs of her knuckles, and Lace’s electrical circuit board lit up. “It hurt less than I expected. I wasn’t in love with her or anything like that. The low blow came when she took up with the quarterback who replaced me.”
“From the sound of it, they deserve each other.”
“Forget them. I’d rather talk about you.”
“Pretty dull topic.”
“That’s just what you want everyone to believe.”
“And on what do you base that deduction?”
“Still waters run deep.”
“Any particular reason you’re buttering me up?”
“You are a very suspicious person, you know that?”
“Not at all. I simply realize that everyone’s got an angle. What’s yours?”
He hesitated a moment, looked like he was going to give her some bullshit answer, but surprised her by saying, “I’m feeling lonely.”
She hooted at that.
He grimaced. “Way to mock a guy who’s baring his soul.”
“Oops,” she said. “You were serious?”
“Of course not.” His grin hooked from one ear to the other, but the smile did not reach his eyes. In fact, for one brief second he looked so sad it clawed at her heart, but then it was gone so quickly, she wondered if she’d imagined it. “I was just playing on your sympathy to see if I could coax you into bed.”
Zip, there he was, back in his cool quarterback hero persona. Damn her for laughing at him just when he was opening up to her. Why had she done that? Was it because she was secretly terrified that if he did open up to her, she’d fall crazy in love all over again, and this time, there would be no getting over him?
Yep. There it was. That was it. What now? Where to go from here?
She tilted her chin up. “Who is the real Pierce Hollister?”
He looked startled for a moment, and then shrugged too nonchalantly. “Hell if I know.”
Darn it, the man was just asking to be kissed.
Palms braced against the cement floor, Lace leaned forward and kissed him.
He tasted even better than he had the night he’d kissed her—richly soothing like butterscotch, but with a spicy flair of cinnamon underneath, as if he’d been to Janelle Stuart’s cage at Cupid National Bank and hit the candy stash of Hot Tamales and Werther’s that Janelle kept in a jar for customers.
It took less than half a second for him to start kissing her in return, but keeping the pressure gentle, letting her know she could back out if she was having second thoughts.
Was she?
Who could have any thoughts whatsoever when kissing Pierce Hollister? Other than Yum and Boy howdy and Holy Venus frigging flytrap. A dozen very nice sensations coursed through her. She felt all wriggly and giggly and warm. And oops, suddenly tongues were involved. Was she the one who started that? Wriggly, hell, she was positively squirming.
He pulled her into his lap and one arm went around her waist. His beard stubble scraped against her skin and all those warm feelings surged and swelled and for one extreme minute she felt as if she had died and gone straight to heaven.
The sound of voices drifted into the greenhouse, followed by footsteps, and they managed to spring apart and get to their feet, hair mussed, lips swollen, just as Natalie, Dade, Melody, and Zoey came through the door.
Chapter 11
Viability: capacity for germination.
THE flight to San Antonio on the following Monday was uneventful, but the visit to the specialist wrecked all that. The internist, Dr. Simon, was alarmed at Abe’s condition and concerned that his physician in Cupid hadn’t been able to make a diagnosis.
“We need to admit your father to the hospital and do extensive testing,” Dr. Simon recommended. “He’s seriously malnourished.”
“The only thing he’ll eat are the sweet potatoes from his garden,” Pierce explained. “He asks for other foods, but when we get them for him, he won’t eat.”
“I love sweet taters!” Abe spoke up.
They spent the next several hours getting Abe settled in the hospital and hiring a private duty nurse to sit with him. Pierce had to admit that Lace was a lot of help in navigating the medical environment. While her doctorate was in plant science, she knew a lot about anatomy and biology and all those Latin terms. She also had a way of looking at nurses to get them to hop to their jobs, especially when they were lavishing more attention on Pierce than on their patient.
He stood in the doorway looking at his dad, a dead weight in his stomach while the private duty nurse plumped Abe’s pillow.
Lace reached up and rubbed Pierce’s shoulder.
She seemed to have an instinct for when he was feeling low and her touch lightened his load. He might have manipulated her into coming with him, but he was damn grateful to have her here.
“Let’s call off the shopping spree,” she said. “Spend the day with your dad.”
“Oh no,” he said. “You’re not getting out of it that easily.” Truth was, he needed the diversion from worrying about Abe’s condition, and being with Lace was the sweetest distraction he could think of.
She grinned. “Had to give it a shot.”
“Most women would love to have a man with a full wallet taking them shopping.”
“Honey,” the private duty nurse interrupted. “Listen to him. Most women would kill to have Dallas Cowboy quarterback Pierce Hollister take them dress shopping. Better get along before some of the gals in the nursing lounge start sharpening their claws. Don’t worry about things here. I’ll take good care of your father, Mr. Hollister.”
Once they were outside the room, Lace said, “Did you pay her to say that?”
“Which part? About taking good care of my father or women killing to go out with me?”
Lace cut her eyes at him. “Let’s just get this over with.”
“You don’t like shopping?”
“Hate it.”
“Mostly just catalog order from L.L. Bean, huh?”
She screwed her mouth up. “What’s wrong with that?”
“You have too much plaid in your wardrobe.” Not that he really minded her in plaid. He liked her in anything. It’s just that he wanted to see her in something that would really show off that rocking body of hers. But if he were being honest, what he really wanted to see her in was her birthday suit. “C’mon, let’s start with Nordstrom.”
PIERCE HAD RENTED a car at the airport when they’d arrived, and thirty minutes later, they were in the “occasions
” section of the women’s department at Nordstrom. Once the saleswomen recognized him, they were inundated with help, but he’d held up a palm and told the clerks that if they wanted to make a sale they needed to back off and give them some breathing room. The women scattered, but they kept peeking surreptitiously around dress racks at him.
“How do you put up with that constantly?” Lace asked.
He shrugged. “Comes with the territory. You get used to it.”
“I never would.” Lace crossed her arms over her chest, feeling completely out of her element. “Maybe that’s really why your girlfriend dumped you. She hated dealing with all the women who come on to you.”
“I seriously doubt that,” he said. “She took up with my replacement, remember. She knew that when I’m with a woman, I’m with her. Too bad I couldn’t say the same for her.”
“Maybe she didn’t believe you. I mean, c’mon …” Lace gestured to one saleswoman craning her neck from around the mannequin she was ostensibly dressing. The woman lost her balance, stumbled, and fell off her wedge heels. “Who wouldn’t be intimidated?”
“You.”
Shows what you know. “So tell me, just how many women have you dressed?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“I figured undressing women was more your style.”
His grin could have lit up the Vegas strip. “You’re right about that. You’re my first.”
“The first woman you’ve ever bought a dress for?”
“Yep.”
“That surprises me. Confident as you are in the ladies’ department, seems like you would have outfitted hundreds of women.”
“How many women do you think I’ve been with, Lace?”
“You’re a football player. I couldn’t even begin to guess. Less than a thousand?”
“Be serious.”
“I was.”
“Guess again.”
“Three hundred?”
“Not even in the ballpark.”
“Give me a hint. Higher or lower?”
“Much lower.”
“Seventy-five? No wait, don’t answer.” She clamped her hands over her ears. “I don’t want to know.”
“Because you wouldn’t feel special if it was a lot?”
“Because I don’t care.”
Lori Wilde - [Cupid, Texas 02] Page 14