by Brenda Novak
“That can’t be true,” he said, interrupting a list Mike was giving of Booker’s possible offenses against the law.
“’Course it’s true. Sounds just like her—wild as ever.” Mike kicked a clod of dirt off the back of his left boot. “I pity the guy stupid enough to tie the knot with her.”
Josh flinched. He pitied Rebecca’s prospective husband, too—in a way. He also felt something else, something he knew would surprise his brother almost as much as it surprised him—a sort of gut-roiling jealousy that a man was going to possess her and it wasn’t going to be him. She’d give her husband hell. But Josh liked his women and his horses with ample spirit, and there wasn’t a more spirited woman around than Rebecca Wells. Sure, she’d be hard to handle, but no one could make a man feel more like a man simply by closing her eyes and surrendering to his touch. He remembered the excitement he’d experienced with her, an excitement he’d never felt with anyone else—ever. Certainly not with Mary, who seemed to think of sex as a party favor to be doled out at the end of each date. There’d been no artifice in Rebecca’s reactions to him, no coyness, just a raw physical passion that had held him absolutely spell-bound—until Mike had come in, of course.
“Something wrong?” Mike asked. “I thought you’d be surprised, but…”
Josh dropped his brush. Whether he and Rebecca were calling a truce or not, he didn’t want her living with Booker Robinson. He didn’t want her anywhere near Booker. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to be the stupid fool who helped her move in.
“Come on,” he said. “There’s something we have to do.”
* * *
“YOU JUSTHADTO MENTION that I was staying here to my brother-in-law,” Rebecca complained to Booker. They were lounging on the couch at his grandmother’s house watching television, exhausted from their long day of moving.
“How was I supposed to know it was a secret?” he asked. “Were you just gonna disappear without a forwarding address?”
Rebecca punched the pillow she’d brought out of the upstairs room Hatty had designated as hers and curled into a more comfortable position. She hadn’t yet unpacked the clothing she’d carted over in a suitcase, but everything else was where it should be. Only a few things remained at her old place—her telephone and answering machine, her television, which she was planning to put in her bedroom, and some plants. She needed to pick them up tonight and do some last-minute cleaning so she could get her deposit back. But with all the progress she’d made in only two days, she figured she could allow herself a few minutes to rest.
“It wasn’t a secret exactly,” she said. “I was going to tell them in a couple of days.”
“I saved you the trouble,” he said with a shrug.
She rolled her eyes. “Thanks. Your grandmother said my father’s called four times already.”
“If you’d talk to him, he might quit calling.”
Rebecca wasn’t ready to talk to her father. She’d had enough distressing encounters today. First Josh, then Randy…
“Did Buddy get hold of you?” Booker asked.
“I’ve talked to him a couple of times this afternoon. Why?”
“He called here a little while ago. Seemed surprised to find I had such a deep voice.”
“He didn’t seem upset when I talked to him.”
Booker fiddled with the remote, surfing channels. “Did you tell him I’m gay or something?”
“I didn’t lie to him. He wasn’t pleased that we’ll be living together, but he handled it just fine.”
“What’s just fine?”
“He said a lot of things like, ‘In the future I hope you’ll discuss your plans with me, Rebecca,’ and ‘communication is key in any relationship.”’
Booker scratched his head. “Does this guy have any testosterone at all?”
“He’s not the macho type. He’s low-key and sweet, and he’s going to bring more emotional balance into my life.”
“The kind of emotional balance that comes from being afraid of commitment?”
“He’s not afraid of commitment.”
“He’s put the wedding off three times, Rebecca. Doesn’t take a psychology degree to see he’s dragging his feet.”
“It’s not that. He’s just really close to his family and wants them all to be there.”
“Which could indicate something worse.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Maybe he’s a mommy’s boy.”
Rebecca sat up. “Quit being so negative, Booker. You’re going to like him,” she said, even though she doubted he would.
“Tell me again why you want to marry this guy,” he said, settling on VH-1.
“Besides being a very fine person, he’s gentle and consistent. I admire that.”
“To hell with gentle and consistent,” he said. “What about passion?”
“I have enough passion for both of us. I’m looking for other things. How many men do you know who’d go along with their fiancée moving in with a male friend? Now, that’s trust.”
“Or stupidity,” he muttered.
“What’s stupid about saving two months’ rent?”
“So he’s tight-fisted as well as stupid? Where’d you find this lemon?”
“Quit it!” she said. “You don’t even know him.”
He fell silent through a Janet Jackson video. “When’s the wedding?” he asked when the VJ returned to the screen. “Did Buddy say?”
“January 25th, but you’ll meet him before that. He’s flying out for my parents’ anniversary party a week from Friday.” She purposefully didn’t mention the only tense moment in her whole conversation with Buddy—when he’d told her it would cost as much as a new ticket to change his travel itinerary, and she told him she didn’t care. She doubted these details would reflect well on Buddy, considering Booker’s earlier comment about his being tight-fisted.
“You’ve invited me to the wedding, but you haven’t said anything about taking me to your parents’ big celebration.”
Rebecca felt a flicker of apprehension. “You don’t really want to go to that, do you?”
“Why not? Half the town will be there, including that cute little Katie from your salon, right?”
“Er…yeah. Probably,” Rebecca responded.
“Then I’m in.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know about that.”
“Aw, come on. You can get me an invite, can’t you?”
“Rebecca, your father’s on the telephone again,” Booker’s grandmother called.
For a little old lady barely five feet two with wispy gray hair, translucent skin and brittle bones, she had quite a voice. Rebecca scrambled off the couch. “I’m just on my way out, Hatty. Could you tell him I had to go to my old place to finish up a few things?”
“But it’s almost ten o’clock, dear. Are you sure you want to go back tonight?”
Yes! Rebecca wanted to wash her hands of the old and concentrate on the new. She also wanted to sleep late in the morning. She didn’t have to work until ten. “This stuff is important, I’m afraid,” she called. “Tell him I’ll stop by his office tomorrow at lunch.”
Hatty said nothing more. Rebecca nudged Booker with her knee. “Want to go with me?”
His eyes flicked away from the television screen. “Not especially. I’m beat.”
Now that she had a roommate again, she hated the thought of going alone. “What would it take to convince you?”
He considered for a moment. “Is A&W open this time of night?”
“Not during the week.”
“Then I guess you’re out of luck.” A half smile curled his lips as he went back to watching television.
“What about a rain check?” she asked. “I’ll take you out for ice cream tomorrow.”
He made a big deal about turning off the television, tossing the remote aside and getting to his feet. “I didn’t know you were going to be such a pain in the ass when I said you could move in here,” he gru
mbled.
She gave him a sweet smile. “You’d be bored stiff without me.”
“Don’t get cocky just because you’re the only person in this town I can tolerate—besides that cute little Katie.”
“Katie’s only twenty-three.”
“She’s older than eighteen,” he said, trailing her through the front door, down the porch steps and to her car.
“I don’t think she’d be very responsive,” Rebecca said. “She’s had a thing for Josh Hill’s older brother as far back as I can remember.”
“Older brother? I thought you said she’s only twenty-three.”
Rebecca unlocked the doors, took the driver’s seat and reached into the back for a sweatshirt. “She is.”
“How old is Josh’s brother?” he asked, climbing in beside her.
“Let’s see…” Her radio blasted through her speakers as soon as she started the car. She turned it down before throwing the car into reverse. “He was a senior when Josh was a sophomore and I was a freshman, so he’s got to be thirty-six.”
“If they didn’t go to school together, how’d she get to know him?”
“Her family owns Don and Tami’s bakery. Tami is Josh’s mother’s best friend.”
“Thirteen-year age difference. She must like father figures,” he said. “I can be a father figure.”
Rebecca couldn’t help laughing. “Good luck.”
They spent the next fifteen minutes fighting over which radio station to listen to—country western or acid rock. Booker was still trying to find something suitably repulsive when Rebecca pulled into the drive of her old rental house and cut the engine. “I don’t believe it,” she murmured, staring at her yard in astonishment.
“Now this…this is music,” Booker said, as loud screeching guitars and someone screaming into a microphone made the whole car vibrate.
“My key. I should’ve insisted he give back my key.”
“What are you talking about?” He finally looked up, then blinked in surprise. “What’s all this?”
“My furniture,” she said numbly. “Everything Josh helped me move into storage. He had the duplicate key to my unit—he must’ve gone in there and brought everything back.”
* * *
IT WAS LATE, but Rebecca couldn’t sleep. She was in a new place with different sounds and smells and textures. She was worried about her furniture, which was still sitting on the lawn of her old rental house because she and Booker had been too exhausted to deal with moving it again tonight. And she was angry.
“You’ll get yours, Josh Hill,” she muttered for the hundredth time.
Fortunately Booker and his grandmother were both asleep, so she was alone with her thoughts. Booker had stayed up for a while, drinking a beer and watching television, but Rebecca couldn’t get interested in any of the sitcoms he preferred. She’d needed a more physical outlet and began to pace, silently cursing Josh Hill, and Booker had eventually dragged himself off to bed.
“Who does Josh think he is?” she said aloud, pivoting at the end of the family room and coming back for another pass. Just because she didn’t want to be his friend didn’t mean he had to turn on her.
Finally, she sat down at the small built-in desk in the corner of the room to call Buddy, hoping his calmness would soothe her. He wouldn’t like her spending so much money on long-distance calls, instead of e-mailing, but she needed to hear his voice.
“Hi, honey,” Buddy said.
“You’re not sleeping?” she asked.
“No, I’m surfing the net.” He surprised her by not saying anything about the money she’d owe Hatty for this call.
“What are you looking for?”
“Just checking out some new games, stuff like that.”
“Find anything fun?”
“Actually I did. I was visiting an astrology page my mother told me about and read something I was going to e-mail you. Now that you’re on the phone, I’ll just read it.”
“What is it?” she asked.
“Proof that we’re meant to be together.”
“Really?” That sounded good. Exactly what Rebecca needed at the moment.
“Here it is—‘What Attracts the Scorpio Woman…’ Just a sec, I’m pulling it up.”
Rebecca waited, hoping to hear that she was wildly attracted to a mild-mannered sweet man who would never cause her angst or fear, never make her see red, never leave her furniture out on the lawn—
“The type of man who attracts you seems inscrutable and has a kind of magnetic charisma that hints at smoldering sexuality and passion,” Buddy read.
Smoldering sexuality? “Go on,” Rebecca said, feeling a slight glitch in her enthusiasm. Obviously, he hadn’t gotten to the part that talked about him.
“You’re strong-willed and possessive,” he continued, “and like the same in a mate, for you have a deep-felt need to be wanted. A subtle power struggle may be a seductive aspect of the attraction. Men who seem mysterious or brooding or have ‘deep dark secrets’ could intrigue and entice you. You are often attracted to men who seem powerful or dangerous—”
“Powerful?” she said.
“Well, I interpret powerful to mean confident. And I’m confident, right?”
“Right. That could be you,” she said, because she didn’t know what else to say. So far none of Buddy’s stronger characteristics had been mentioned.
“I thought the first part was a little more applicable, but I suppose some women might say I’m a man of secrets,” Buddy said. “Still waters run deep and all that, you know?”
Sometimes still waters were simply what they appeared to be—still waters. Rebecca had realized that with Buddy. But she certainly didn’t want to make him feel bad if he imagined himself as enigmatic. “Um…you’re—” she cleared her throat “—sort of mysterious, I guess. I wouldn’t call you brooding, exactly.”
“Wait till you hear this. ‘If you have Mars in Scorpio, you will have extra-strong passions and sexual magnetism that is sensed by others, especially Scorpio types.”’
“Why would you read me that?” she said, her voice slightly shrill. “You’re not a Scorpio.” Rebecca wasn’t sure whether she had Mars in Scorpio or not, but Josh Hill was the only male Scorpio she knew. Not that she’d ever share that information with Buddy. Her fiancé wasn’t the type to understand illicit attraction—or lifelong feuds. And she was definitely leaving her past behind when she moved to Nebraska.
“You interrupted before I got to the good part,” he said. “This is the good part: ‘You are the ultimate seductress and may be especially aroused by the raw sexual energy of a passionate man.”’
Rebecca sat staring at nothing. Had she called the right number? Was this Josh and not Buddy, playing some kind of cruel joke?
“Hello? Rebecca?”
“I’m here.”
“What do you think of that? You’re a seductress.”
“And…you’re the man with the raw sexual energy?”
“Of course.”
Then why had she conjured up Josh’s face when Buddy was spouting that silly horoscope?
“After a reading like that, the extra money we’re spending for me to come for your party should be money well spent, huh?”
Rebecca took a deep breath and tried to gain some perspective. It was just a horoscope. It didn’t mean anything. “I’m looking forward to seeing you, Buddy,” she said numbly. “But I’m exhausted. I’d better talk to you tomorrow.”
“Goodbye, my little seductress.”
She shook her head and hung up. Whatever had possessed Buddy to read her that? Didn’t he know there probably wasn’t a woman on earth who’d classify him as sexually intense? As dark and brooding? He had plenty of strengths; he was going to make a great husband. But sexual intensity wasn’t one of those strengths. Neither were any of the other things he’d read her.
It was Josh’s fault. If he hadn’t gotten sick last night and made her feel obligated to give him that massage, she wouldn’t be p
icturing him at every mention of sexual desire….
Grabbing the telephone book, she looked up his number at the ranch he owned with his brother. She didn’t appreciate what he’d done to her furniture, and she wanted to let him know it.
The phone rang twelve times before someone answered, but Rebecca knew it was Josh and not Mike. She recognized the voice.
“Hello?”
She opened her mouth to say something about the furniture, but what was really on her mind was that stupid horoscope. If you have Mars in Scorpio, you will have extra-strong passions and sexual magnetism that is sensed by others, especially Scorpio types.
“Hello? Is anyone there?”
Rebecca hesitated. Even sleepy, Josh sounded sexy. The slight rasp to his voice seemed to spiral through her, making her long to close her eyes and just listen to him talk…
But she wouldn’t give in to his appeal. No way in hell.
“You have no sexual energy,” she blurted. “None. You’re not strong-willed or possessive—well, maybe you are strong-willed and possessive—but you’re not seductive and you don’t entice me. As a matter of fact—”
“Rebecca?”
“What?”
“I don’t know about any of that other stuff, but I have plenty of sexual energy,” he said. “Anytime you want to let that fiancé of yours off the hook and find out how much, come on over.”
Anger and frustration combined to make her clench her fists. “I wouldn’t sleep with you if you were the last man on earth!” she cried and hung up.
* * *
“WHO WAS THAT?” Mike said, coming to stand in the doorway of Josh’s room, his hair sticking up on one side.
Josh chuckled and set the phone back on its cradle. “Just Rebecca thanking us for helping her move.”
CHAPTER TEN
CITY HALL SAT on a large shady lot next to the post office only a block away from the salon. Rebecca finished her eleven o’clock color for Mrs. Dobbins, told Katie she was going out to grab a sandwich and walked to her father’s office, frowning at the sky. Dark clouds were forming overhead and the wind was picking up, which concerned her. She and Booker wouldn’t be able to move her furniture inside until after she got off work. But the people from the trailer park at the end of the street would probably have carted it all away by then, so she wasn’t sure why she was bothering to worry about rain.