by Robin Wells
Frannie stood in the foyer with Celeste as Jasmine lugged two suit cases down the front stairs. “Are you only taking one bag, Mom?”
“Yes. It’s just an overnight trip.” Celeste turned to Frannie. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?”
“I’m sure.”
“She’s got better things to do than go to a wedding,” Jasmine volunteered. “She’s spending the day with Austin.”
Celeste smiled and patted Frannie’s arm. “How nice. I really like that young man.”
Jasmine grinned. “Frannie does, too, but she won’t admit it.”
Celeste looked at her watch and moved toward the door. “Come on, Jasmine. If we want to get there by noon, we’d better get started.”
Frannie helped Celeste carry her bag to the car. “You two enjoy yourselves.” A change of scenery ought to do Celeste good, Frannie thought.
She watched them drive off, then climbed into her white Camry and drove to Austin’s ranch. He’d wanted to come pick her up, but Frannie had wanted the independence of having her own transportation. It gave her a sense of control, and heaven only knew she needed as much of that as she could muster whenever she was around Austin.
He’d given her detailed instructions, and she found her way easily. She turned onto a gravel road off a two-lane highway, traveled two miles, then came to a large stone entry gate. Above it hung an iron sign proclaiming The Range.
Austin had a home on the range. Smiling at his sense of humor, Frannie turned her car onto the narrow gravel drive. The road wound around a densely forested hill, then took two more turns before a house came into view. It was a large, rambling, one-story house made of rock and natural wood that blended in with its surroundings. It had a deep, covered porch supported by large cedar beams, and the tall, multiple windows were all framed in rough-hewn wood.
Not a white column anywhere in sight, Frannie noted. She had secretly wondered if Austin’s house would resemble the one his mother used to promise him. It made sense that it wouldn’t, she thought as she pulled the car into the circular drive. That house had been his mother’s dream. Austin was the kind of man who would have dreams of his own.
She braked and turned off the engine, still looking at the house. It suited him, she thought, unfastening her seat belt. Like him, it was rugged and handsome and larger than life.
Austin stepped out of the heavy wood entry as she shut the car door. Her heart seemed to slam in her chest, as well, as he walked toward her. “Did you have any trouble finding your way?”
“No. You gave excellent directions.”
He gave her a friendly peck on the cheek. Frannie inhaled the faint scent of shaving cream and soap, and found it strangely hard to breathe.
“Good,” he said, casually looping an arm around her shoulders. “Well, I hope you can do the same on my computer.”
Her short leather boots clattered on the wooden porch. He held the front door for her, and she walked into an enormous room filled with oversize pine furniture, colorful Navajo rugs, Native American pottery and artwork. A massive stone fireplace sat against one wall. The back of the room was largely glass and looked out over an immense outdoor pool.
“This is beautiful,” Frannie breathed, looking around.
“Thanks. I like it.”
“I remember you saying you were in the process of remodeling. Is this room part of that?”
Austin shook his head. “No. Just the bedrooms. The family that lived here before me had four daughters. All of the bedrooms except for the master one had flowered wallpaper, pink carpeting and dainty little chandelier-type light fixtures. Since most of my guests will be members of my pit crew, well, it just didn’t seem fitting somehow.”
Frannie grinned. “It is kind of hard to picture Tommy sleeping in a room with pink carpeting.”
Austin grinned. “Yeah. He might start showing up for breakfast in a lacy pink robe and curlers. I couldn’t risk that.”
Frannie laughed.
“You want some coffee?”
“Sounds good.” Frannie followed him through the living room into a large sunlit kitchen with hardwood flooring, granite countertops and custom-made pine cabinetry. Best of all, there was another fireplace in the kitchen, next to a large old farm table. “What a wonderful kitchen! It must be a real pleasure to cook in here.”
“I’m afraid I really wouldn’t know.”
“You don’t cook?”
He pulled two brown mugs down from the cabinet and gave a sheepish smile. “My culinary skills don’t extend much beyond steaks and salad, but I’ve got those down to an art. I’ll show you tonight.”
What else was he planning to show her tonight? The thought sent a shiver running through her. His fingers brushed hers as she accepted a mug of coffee from him. Sexual awareness hung thick in the air, giving it an electric charge. Frannie looked around nervously, wanting to break the tension. “So where is your computer?”
He waved his hand toward a room across the living area. “In the study.”
Frannie followed him through a pair of open French doors into a well-lit, pine-paneled room lined with bookcases. A large old desk stood in the center of the room, and piled in the center of it was a brand new computer, its cords still wound and wrapped with wire. Its empty box sat on the floor.
“I started to try to assemble it, then figured I’d just wait for you. I figured it would be easier for you to start from scratch than to undo my mistakes.”
“This won’t take long,” Frannie said. She got busy and ten minutes later, the computer was assembled. She turned it on, watched the screen flicker, then studied the menu. “It’s loaded with software. Which do you want me to show you how to use?”
Austin stood behind her and gazed at the screen. “I don’t know. Something that’ll let me keep track of my finances, I guess.”
Frannie seated herself in the cordovan leather chair behind the desk and clicked an icon for an accounting program. Austin pulled up a matching chair and scooted it close beside Frannie’s.
It was hard to concentrate on the computer screen with him sitting so close to her. His shoulder was several inches from hers, but she could practically feel the heat emanating from his body. She forced herself to focus on the program and carefully explained it to him.
“That’s all there is to it.” Frannie slid the mouse and pad over to him. “Here. Try it for yourself.”
He hesitated, and it occurred to her that he might not know anything at all about computers. “Do you know how to use a mouse?”
“Why don’t you show me?”
His hand looked intimidatingly masculine. Tanned and large, with a smattering of dark hair across the top, it completely covered the mouse. A wayward thought rushed through her mind. What would it feel like to have that hand on her body, moving across her skin?
But this was not the time for erotic conjecture. Taking a deep breath, she placed her palm on top of his hand. A shock wave of sensation flashed through her, making her stomach tighten. He seemed to feel it, too, because his long fingers curled around the mouse.
She forced her thoughts back to the computer. “Have you ever used a computer before?”
“Yes. This is a different type, though.”
“Well, the mouse is for moving the cursor.” She clicked it and guided his hand. He leaned forward, his face close to her hair. She heard him inhale deeply, as if he were smelling her shampoo. There it was again—that incredible awareness, that tension that stretched like a high wire between them. She pulled back. “You try it.”
He guided the cursor across the screen.
“Very good. Now, see if you can open the program.”
He hit the wrong icon. “Oops.”
“Try again.”
“I think I need some more help.”
Frannie moved her hand back over his. He leaned in close again, so close she could feel his breath on her neck. “That’s better,” he murmured. He cut her a sideways glance as she helped him gui
de the mouse. “I guess you took all kinds of computer courses in college.”
“A few.”
“I’ve always wished I had more formal education.” He clicked the mouse, and the program opened.
Frannie looked at him. “It’s never too late to go to college.”
“Maybe I will someday.”
“What would you study?”
“I don’t know. Literature, science, history. All the stuff that an educated person knows. I’d just like to feel more educated.”
As famous and successful as he was, he had an inferiority complex about his education. The realization touched her. “You know, being educated isn’t really a matter of having a college diploma. It’s a matter of having knowledge and knowing how to use it. It seems to me that you know an awful lot about a lot of topics.”
“I’d like to know more.”
“About any particular topic?”
“There’s one that’s really got my interest.”
“What?”
His gaze latched onto hers and wouldn’t let go. “You.”
Frannie swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. She stared at him for what must have been several seconds. She should change the subject, she should move, she should do anything but sit here and stare at him, letting the heat between them intensify. She should, but she didn’t. Instead she found herself asking in a voice so low she could barely recognize it as her own, “What do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
The air was charged with an almost palpable tension. Frannie tried to pretend it wasn’t. “There’s not much to know.”
“Sure there is.”
Pull back. Pull back, or it will be too late. Oh, dear Lord, maybe it already was. She swallowed hard. “Ask me one question and I’ll answer it. Then we’ll get back to the computer.”
“All right.” He reached up and touched her face, his finger soft as a feather. “What are you thinking right now?”
“Well, uh, I, uh…” I’m thinking how much I want to kiss you. I’m thinking that your mouth is the sexiest, most sensual thing in the world. I’m remembering how it felt on mine and thinking about how much I want to feel it again. I’m thinking that I’ve fallen head over heels for you, that I have no defenses against you, that I want to feel your arms around me, your hands upon me, your skin against mine. I’m thinking that fighting something I want so desperately is impossible. I’m thinking that if I had a shred of an instinct for self-preservation, I’d stand up and leave right now.
She jerked her gaze back to the computer and forced a lightness she didn’t feel into her voice. “I’m thinking that I should probably show you the word processing program next.”
Austin let out a long sigh, then rubbed his jaw. “Frannie, I’ve got to admit something.”
“What?”
“Well, don’t hate me for this, but I already know how to use a computer.”
“You do?”
He nodded, his expression contrite. “I already have one. It’s a different type, and I’m no great whiz at it, but I already know how to do the basic stuff.”
Frannie stared at him. “So why did you act like you needed my help?”
“Well, I did need some help in setting this one up. And I’ve never used an accounting program before.”
Frannie didn’t like the feeling of having been duped. “If you’re familiar with computers, you could have figured it out yourself.”
“I know.” Austin’s chest rose and fell as he inhaled and expelled a deep breath. His gaze was direct and remorseful. “The truth is, I didn’t think you’d come if I just invited you to spend the day with me. Knowing what a nice person you are, though, I figured you wouldn’t be able to turn down a plea for help.”
She knew she should be angry, should feel some measure of outrage, but she couldn’t seem to muster any. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight. You deliberately took advantage of my good nature?”
“Pretty much.” His blue eyes were doleful. “I guess I wouldn’t blame you if you decided to leave.”
If she had any sense, she would. It was obvious where all of this was headed. The attraction between them was clearly out of control. The problem was, her feelings for him were out of control, as well. She was head over heels in love with him.
She loved him. The realization broke over her like a freshly cracked egg, pouring slowly down around her, revealing the bright yellow center of truth.
She loved him. She could suddenly see it, could suddenly see it with sparkling clarity. She could also see that she was kidding herself, trying to keep from getting involved with him. She was already involved. It might not be wise, but it was too late for wisdom.
“Please don’t leave,” he murmured.
How could she? How could she leave, with the discovery that she loved him fresh on her heart? She’d waited all these years to feel this way about a man. She might never get another chance to experience real, heart felt love. She couldn’t leave. Not now.
Besides, he was going to do the leaving for both of them. He was going leave tomorrow.
Frannie looked into his blue, blue eyes.
“Don’t leave,” he whispered again.
Her mouth pulled into a soft smile. “I won’t. I intend to stay and make an honest man of you.”
One dark eyebrow lifted quizzically.
“You promised me a horseback ride and tour of your ranch, and I’m going to hold you to it.”
His eyes sparkled as he grinned. “I also promised you a steak dinner.”
“Well, then, I’ll hold you to that, too.”
“I’d rather just hold you.” There was no mistaking his meaning. His gaze deepened and darkened, and ran caressingly over her face.
Frannie strove for a light tone, but her voice came out so low and soft, she was afraid she sounded like Mae West. “Pay off your promises, and then we’ll see.”
But it was no longer a matter a question of “if,” Frannie thought. It was merely a question of when, where and how.
Twelve
Frannie walked beside Austin as they strolled down a path through the woods for about a quarter mile. The dense forest around the house had given way to rolling pastureland. He’d taken her hand as they’d left the house, and he was still holding it. Frannie reveled in the sensation. All of her senses seemed height ened, and the world somehow seemed more intense—the sky looked bluer, the pines smelled crisper, the sun felt warmer. She felt as if she could stroll hand-in-hand with Austin forever.
As they rounded a bend in the path, a large rusty-red outbuilding loomed ahead. Austin gestured toward it. “There’s my shop.”
“Your shop? I thought you were going to show me the garage where you keep your race cars.”
Austin grinned. “It’s one and the same.”
“It looks like an old-fashioned barn,” Frannie commented as they approached the building. She looked out over the rolling pastureland, where two similar buildings sat on separate hills. “In fact, it looks like you have three old-time barns.”
“Glad you think so. It’s supposed to look that way.” Austin pulled out a set of keys and unlocked the wide, sliding door of the building. “When I bought the place, I had to build a shop and a stable, but I didn’t want them to be eyesores. The architect suggested that we keep them all in the same style as the existing barn.”
“It looks great,” Frannie commented. “Like something from a postcard.”
Smiling, Austin rolled up the door to reveal am enormous automotive garage.
He flipped on bright overhead lights as they stepped inside.
Frannie looked around and marveled. It was larger and better equipped than any service station garage she’d ever seen—and definitely cleaner. “This looks more like an operating room than a garage,” she murmured.
It was true. The shop had two car lifts and all kinds of computerized testing equipment, and all of it gleamed as brightly as Aunt Celeste’s freshly polished silver. So did the tools lined
up on the shelves and in the rolling toolboxes. Even the concrete floor looked as if it had just been pressure-washed.
She turned to Austin in amazement. “I’ve never seen a garage so spotless!”
Austin grinned. “I like a clean shop.”
Two low-slung, red-and-yellow race cars covered with decals and logos sat at the back of the shop. Frannie headed toward them. “You have two race cars?”
“Actually, I have four. These two are for use on short and intermediate tracks—tracks that are just a half mile to two miles. The other two are for use on superspeedways—tracks that are two and a half miles around.”
“Where are they now?”
“On their way to a studio in New York City. Tommy and another member of the crew left yesterday to haul them out there.”
“Why are they going to a studio?”
“I’m supposed to shoot a TV ad for Sea Breeze on Monday. Then the cars and I are scheduled to make an appearance at a big automotive show in New Jersey. After that I’ll do some appearances in Philadelphia, then I’ll head to Atlanta on Thursday for a qualifying race on Friday.”
Frannie shook her head. “I had no idea there was so much involved in racing.”
“There’s a lot that goes into it.”
“I guess you don’t just drive the cars to the racetracks, huh?”
Austin grinned. “Nope. I have a special truck for hauling them.” He pointed to a large empty spot at the back of the garage. “It’s usually parked there. And the motor home is parked beside it.”
Frannie’s eyes widened. “You have a motor home?”
“Yep. It’s home base when we’re at a track.”
“Is that where you sleep?”
“Sometimes. I usually stay in a hotel and let the crew stay in the motor home.”
Frannie looked around, trying to absorb it all. She pointed to eight immense, shiny motors. “What are those?”
“Extra engines.”
“You change them out?”
Austin nodded. “After every race.”
Frannie shook her head at the incredible expense of it all. A truck, a motor home, extra engines… It was mind-boggling. “It’s amazing, what it takes to operate one race car.”