by Ken Casper
Chuckling, he was about to admit his thick-headedness, when he heard the familiar voice behind him.
“Daddy, look. They’re baby horses.”
Gwyn instantly broke into a broad smile. “Hello, Riley. Hey, Alanna, I like your hat.”
Jed turned to see his friend and four-year-old daughter approaching the fence. Alanna wore a flat-brimmed Mexican-style blue hat with little red puffballs dangling from the rim.
The girl couldn’t take her eyes away from the animals. “Are they going to be real big like Mr. Jed’s?”
“No,” Gwyn chuckled mildly. “This is as big as they get.”
“It is?” She studied them with a kind of longing. “Can I touch them?”
Gwyn held out her hand. “Come on. Let me introduce you.”
Jed watched from the fence as Gwyn escorted the child and her father to the harnessed miniatures and identified each of them by name, then let Alanna pet every one of them.
“That’s it, nice and gentle.” She guided the child’s hand along the neck of the front horses. “They’re very friendly, but you have to remember you’re a stranger, so you don’t want to do anything to scare them. Would you like to go for a ride in the coach?”
Alanna jumped up and down. “Can I, Daddy? Can I? Please?”
Gwyn smiled at Riley, who took obvious pleasure in his daughter’s delight. “You can come with us.” She looked over at Jed, who had a foot resting on the lower rail of the fence. “Would you like to join us? There’s room.”
He shook his head. “Thanks, but I have to see to my team. Maybe another time.”
Jed watched them climb into the carriage, observed her raise her leg and bounce up onto the box in front and take up the reins. Smiling, he waved to Alanna, whose face was glowing with happiness. Gwyn clicked her tongue and set off down the path to the trail that had been mapped out on the edge of the campground, among the trees and along the shore of the lake.
It took determination for him to focus on the animals rather than the woman driving them. The team was handsome and well matched. They were clearly well trained, too, for they responded precisely to her direction. He’d driven teams often enough to know that keeping eight horses in balance wasn’t a simple task. Had she trained the horses herself? Seeing the way she took to Riley’s daughter, he knew she had the patience and temperament to make a good parent and a good teacher.
Why was this beautiful woman not married with a house full of kids? For that matter, why wasn’t he? In spite of the tragedies and rejections in his life, he’d always wanted a family, but he’d never found a woman he could trust with his secrets or who wasn’t distracted by his wealth.
The bridle path wasn’t very long. They were back within fifteen minutes, Alanna giggling and chattering with delight. By then, he’d marshaled a full load of older kids for the hayride, which took twice as long.
Over the next few hours, he and Gwyn saw each other in passing and waved to each other, but it wasn’t until late in the afternoon that they were both ready for a break, as were their horses. While she assured the kids she’d give more rides after the animals had a chance to rest, Jed went to the concession stand and bought two very large berry-berry ice slushes.
Back at her corral, he handed her one. She pushed up her cowboy hat and wiped her brow. “Mmm. A man after my own heart.”
“Let’s go sit in the shade,” he suggested, his eyes settling on her tongue as it licked the soft ice.
They walked over to a bench that had just been vacated under a large oak tree. For a minute they crunched ice and let out long relaxing sighs.
“Gwyn, I’m sorry about the things I said the other night. It was wrong of me and very ungrateful. I hope you’ll forgive me.”
Her pique had long since faded. She understood his anger, his feeling of betrayal. “It wasn’t completely your fault,” she acknowledged. “I misled you. You had every right to resent it.”
“That doesn’t justify my hurting you.”
Her face softened. She reached over and placed her hand on his. “It’s in the past, Jed. Let’s forget about it.”
He held on to her hand, massaging the knuckles gently. Their eyes met. They stared at each other in silence for several heartbeats. He was about to draw closer, to bring his lips to hers, when she asked in a quiet, concerned voice, “Have you told anyone who I am?”
He pulled back, unsettled, frustrated. Was that the reason for her granting forgiveness, to buy his silence? Irritation took the calmness from his tone. “Riley figured it out, but I haven’t told anyone, and I won’t.”
She waited a minute, aware of his displeasure. “It’s important to me.”
He let out a huff. “Obviously. Do you mind telling me why?”
“Sometime, maybe, but not now.”
He inhaled. “Fair enough. As I said, it’s your business.”
More silence.
“I like your horses.”
Startled, she looked at him, surprise on her face.
“I mean the kids really seem to get a kick out of them,” he qualified.
She chuckled. “Minis aren’t quite as intimidating as regular-size horses.”
They had turned without realizing it to face each other on the bench. “If you haven’t already made plans, Gwyn, will you come with me to the ball on Saturday evening? I’m not the world’s greatest dancer, but I promise to do my best not to step on your toes.”
“I’d like that.”
He grinned. “Going to the ball with me or my not stepping on your toes?”
She laughed, that full throaty sound he’d only heard once from her. It resonated inside him, churning up that libido again. “I’m greedy,” she told him, grinning widely. “I want both.”
Chapter Thirteen
JED ARRIVED at Gwyn’s house the evening of the ball at seven o’clock precisely. It wasn’t dark yet, but shadows were lengthening, casting tone and texture in sharp relief. He walked to the front door and rang the bell. While he waited for her to open, he noted the newly planted pink-and-white impatiens in the flower bed bordering the walk. Frannie used to grow them there as well, only she favored the red-and-pink varieties.
He tried to dismiss the bittersweet memories by concentrating on the woman who lived here now. Gwyn wasn’t just a date for another social gala, though he couldn’t say exactly how or why she was different. She was a beautiful woman, but he’d been out with beautiful women before. Good company, but he’d enjoyed good company, too. An enigma? A challenge? She was both—and more.
He was about to press the button a second time, when the door flew open.
The woman standing before him took his breath away. She had been tantalizing him all week in western attire, but in a teal satin evening gown with a single strand of pearls circling her neck and shiny gold teardrops dripping from her ears, she was a knockout. Her sleek auburn hair had always been braided in a single thick rope down her back. Now it hung loose in gentle waves that shimmered in the incandescent light and seemed to invite mischief.
She was more than a knockout, Jed told himself as he stared. A goddess who was raising his body temperature to indecent levels.
Grinning at him, she picked up her flat evening bag from the table by the door and gazed up at him. “Thank you,” she said softly.
He blinked and stood by while she checked to make sure she had her key. “For what?” he asked when she closed the door behind her.
She raised a hand and gently patted him on the cheek. “For the look in your eyes.”
Desire, painful and sweet, rocketed through him. He offered her his arm. “The word beautiful comes to mind,” he murmured in her ear, “but it’s much too weak.”
“Charmer,” she accused him with a breezy chuckle that had the effect of aged whiskey running through his veins.
“You look very handsome tonight, Mr. Louis.” A soft throaty laugh bubbled out of her when he nearly blushed.
The Anglers’ Ball was held every year in the Uncertain Legion Hall. In years past it had been outdoors, under a tent top, but dancing in the East Texas humidity tended to leave men sweaty and women glowing, their elaborate hairdos wilting. It was even worse when it rained, as it often did this time of year. Long evening gowns ended up trimmed in reddish mud and shiny oxfords came away looking like construction boots.
The cavernous tin building didn’t have its usual utilitarian appearance this evening. Potted palms had been carefully placed to soften its sharp edges, and colored spotlights were directed into the open rafters, from which hanging plants were strategically suspended. Tiny round tables, hardly big enough for two people, were set with white linen, globed candles and four chairs. They were arranged around a freshly waxed portable parquet dance floor in the center of the room. A small orchestra specializing in the big-band sound was set up on risers in one corner.
“Oh, this is charming,” Gwyn exclaimed, taking in the scene.
Ladies wore a variety of evening ensembles, some simple and elegant, others elaborate and pretentious. The men were more uniformly attired in black tuxedos, starched white shirts and black bow ties, though there were a few mavericks sporting plaid cummerbunds and gaudily irreverent ties. As far as Gwyn was concerned, none was more strikingly handsome than the man at her side, and judging from the glances the other women in the hall cast his way, her opinion was shared.
A self-consciously jovial female shriek of laughter rose above the din from a far corner.
“Amanda’s here,” Jed commented dryly without bothering to seek out the source of the commotion.
“Who’s Amanda?”
He snorted. “You’ll meet her later, I’m sure.”
“Good evening, Jed,” a mature male voice said from behind them.
They turned together to see a tall gentleman of about sixty. His dark hair was sprinkled with gray at the temples, as was his pencil-thin mustache. The president of the local bank. Gwyn had met him when she transferred her accounts from Denver. He’d greeted Jed, but his attention was focused exclusively on Gwyn.
“Ms. Miller, how good to see you again.” He smiled unctuously. “I saw you giving the children rides in your carriage the other evening. I think everybody in town has fallen in love with those miniature horses—as well as their enchanting owner.”
“Except maybe Logan Fielder,” Jed noted, but with a chuckle.
Jennings sneered. “Logan doesn’t love anyone or anything. I’d hardly use him as a criterion of success.” He beckoned to a tall, slender woman talking to an older lady a few feet away. “My dear, come say hello to Jed and his date. This is Gwyn Miller. My wife, Catherine.”
Catherine Jennings carried herself with a class and sophistication Gwyn instantly recognized. She was wearing a low-cut cream-colored evening gown accented with tiny seed pearls. The bodice molded itself to her full figure and curved down her rounded hips. Her makeup was expertly applied, bringing out the brilliant blue of her eyes while distracting from the delicate crows’ feet beside them. At first glance Gwyn would have thought her at least ten years younger than her husband, but closer consideration suggested their age difference was probably not more than a year or two.
“Ms. Miller.” Catherine held out her hand in a manner that reminded Gwyn uncomfortably of her mother. Friendly, but with just a hint of condescension.
“Please call me Gwyn. What lovely jewelry.”
Catherine Jennings wore a matching necklace and bracelet—a tree motif within a circle of gold. The trunks of the trees were white freshwater pearls with delicate emerald chips leafing out the branches. It was a beautiful, if old-fashioned, set.
“It’s absolutely exquisite,” Gwyn continued. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it.”
The older woman’s aloofness softened perceptibly. “Part of a family heirloom,” she announced proudly. “I don’t wear them very often, as you can imagine.”
“No, indeed,” Gwyn agreed. “Such a prize is worthy only of special occasions.”
“You must come by one day and tell me all about your animals. They sound delightful.”
Gwyn recognized the tone. The invitation was closer to the granting of an audience. “I’d like that,” she agreed diplomatically. She suspected the older woman realized Gwyn had no intention of complying.
Catherine turned to Jed. “Amanda’s here.”
“Yes, I know. I’m sure I’ll see her later. Oh, there’s Riley waving at us. If you’ll excuse us, Catherine, we need to get to our table.” Ray had already moved over to another couple and was busy in conversation.
Beating Catherine to the punch, Gwyn put out her hand like a limp paw. “It’s been so nice to meet you, Mrs. Jennings.”
“Do enjoy yourself,” Catherine said, barely touching the tips of Gwyn’s fingers.
After greeting several other people and introducing Gwyn, Jed led the way to their reserved table. She felt a moment of relief at seeing the friendly, familiar face of Riley Gray. He immediately climbed to his feet, shook Jed’s hand perfunctorily and gave Gwyn another brotherly peck on the cheek.
“So you hired the Great Thorn after all,” he muttered with a twinkle in his eye. Gwyn suspected Jed had told him all about his meeting with the famous attorney, though he had yet to tell her about it, and she refused to ask.
“The Great Thorn?” inquired the woman sitting at the table. Her eyes had gone wide. “Are you referring to Dexter Thorndyke?”
“Excuse my bad manners,” Riley said. “Blair, you know Jed, of course.” They exchanged greetings. Riley placed his hand at the small of Gwyn’s back. “This is Gwyn Miller. She owns the miniature horses I was telling you about—that were such a success with the kids all week. This is Blair Dunning.”
Blair nodded pleasantly, a gracious and assessing smile on her face. She was a striking woman with straw-blond hair pulled back in a sleek bun at her nape. Gwyn judged her to be about thirty. There was curiosity, too, in her hazel eyes. Jed held Gwyn’s chair and the three of them sat down.
“Is it true?” Blair asked Jed. “You’ve hired Dexter Thorndyke?”
Gwyn caught Jed’s eye. She didn’t want to talk about this or her part in getting the Great Thorn.
“He’s agreed to help, if needed,” Jed replied.
The orchestra started up a 1940s foxtrot.
“I ought to explain,” Riley chimed in, apparently unaware of the silent communication. “Blair is an assistant district attorney in Marshall.”
Jed rose quickly, came around the back of Gwyn’s chair and leaned over her ear. “Shall we dance?”
She turned her head and smiled gratefully at him. They proceeded to the dance floor.
“Do you think Riley told her I was the one who called Thorny?” Gwyn asked.
“Nope.” He whirled her around. “He knows how to keep confidences.”
Riley and Blair had followed them to the dance floor. Gwyn observed them. Blair’s full-length black silk dress was slit up both sides, revealing long slender legs. It hugged her feminine curves in front and was cut very low in back. A striking woman, and in the same profession as Riley. They made an attractive couple. Gwyn liked Riley. She wanted to like his date, as well.
She and Jed spoke sparingly during the first few dances, which were upbeat and fast paced. Then the tempo changed and the orchestra segued into the lyrical harmonies of “Sentimental Journey” and “Stardust.” He leaned his chin against her temple and inhaled the floral
scent of her hair and the feminine allure of her skin. They could have carried on a conversation very privately now, but they fell silent. The melancholy refrains of the hauntingly beautiful music seemed to trigger a yearning in his soul.
He wasn’t surprised that Gwyn was a good dancer. She glided across the floor, accepting his lead, anticipating his steps, as if she were a part of him. A perfect partner. Then perfection shifted from deliciously pleasant to downright erotic. She didn’t drape herself on him the way some women did. She molded her body to his, the warmth of her breast penetrating the starch of his shirt, disrupting all thought, while the sway of her hips sent signals to other areas of his anatomy.
Applause greeted the musicians at the end of the sweet medley from another time. Gwyn gazed up at Jed and smiled—a little sadly, it seemed to him—as if she had been reading his mood and sharing his thoughts. The band announced a short break, and people started vacating the dance floor.
“There’s a photographer here taking portraits,” Blair said when they returned to the table. “Riley and I are going. Coming with us? The proceeds go to the charity fund.”
Jed grabbed Gwyn’s right hand, which was still warm from his touch. “Shall we?” Did he see hesitation in her glance?
“Sure,” she said cheerfully. “It’s all for a good cause.”
“Hello, Jed,” came a seductive female voice from behind them as they stood in line awaiting their turns. “I wondered if you’d be here tonight.”
It seemed to Gwyn he began his response even before turning to see who it was.
“I’ve been here every year for the past fifteen,” he declared, a broad smile on his face. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Gwyn shifted around to see a bleached blonde in her mid-thirties, wearing a slinky, skintight black silk dress that ended a couple of inches above her knees. It took a moment for Gwyn to realize this was Catherine’s daughter. The older woman exuded a certain grace and style. This younger version flaunted voluptuous sex.
“You must be Amanda Jennings.” Gwyn extended her hand. “I’ve heard so much about you.” She caught the amused expression on Jed’s face. It almost made her want to giggle. “I’m Gwyn Miller.”