“Oh,” Connie said. “Okay, whatever. Brent, that’s about forty-five seconds’ worth.”
”Okay, Jorge,” Brent turned in the other direction, “go wide as I describe the Mexican Army, exhausted and starving as they come over that distant rise to find only charred ruins where they had hoped to find a town to plunder. Then come back in on me as I tell how the people in Beason’s Ferry paid a high price, but their sacrifice helped Texas win her independence from Mexico to stand as an independent nation for ten years before she joined the United States of America as the twenty-eighth state in the Union. Then, Connie?”
“Right here.”
“Take it to B-tape when I say, ‘Earlier today, KSET spoke with some of the actors who will perform in tonight’s reenactment of the Burning of Beason’s Ferry.’”
“Got it,” Connie said. She was silent for a moment as she wrote down her cue. “So, George, you hanging ‘round Brent’s little burg for the party tonight?”
“You bet,” Jorge answered.
“Actually, he’s not,” Brent corrected, refusing to feel guilty at the kid’s disgruntled groan. “Jorge is my ride home, and I plan to leave the moment we’re done.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Connie’s snicker ended with a wheezing cough. “I heard you had a little problem with your car. So, Brent, was the sacrifice you made worth winning the title of Texas Drag King?”
“Well, it’s better than being named Texas Drag Queen,” Brent shot back, unusually irritated by Connie’s offbeat sense of humor.
“No, wait,” his producer laughed. “I guess that title would have to go to the sweet little blonde you had riding in the car with you. The one who won you as her dream date.”
“I’m warning you, Connie, one more snide word about Laura, and I’ll leave you stranded with two and a half minutes of airtime to fill.”
“Sorry,” the producer chuckled with a total lack of sincerity. “Stand by for your cue.”
Brent exhaled, then rolled his head to relax his neck and shoulders.
“Brent Michaels,” someone said beside him. The moment he turned, he knew the blond man with the wire-rim glasses was not a fan seeking his autograph. Belligerence pulled back the man’s thin shoulders and set his weak jaw.
“May I help you?” Brent asked tiredly.
“That depends—” the man’s smile appeared entirely forced “—on what you’re willing to do to help quell this groundswell of gossip Laura Beth’s coping with, thanks to you.”
Brent sighed. Just what he needed: one more person to give him grief about last night. He hadn’t decided which was worse, the accusing stares from the town’s respectable citizens, or the winks and grins from the disreputable ones. “I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me how my business concerns you?”
The man’s eyes widened slightly. “I simply thought, if people saw us talking amicably together, some of these rumors would die down.” He glanced at the crowd that covered the hillside waiting for the reenactment to begin. “Although one would think these people would know Laura Beth better than to believe she’d behave unseemly with any man, much less one she hasn’t seen in so long, he’s practically a stranger to her now.”
“Is that so?” Brent had no idea who this guy was, but he’d never seen anyone look so nervous, determined, and angry all at the same time. He could almost admire the guy’s grit, if an odd foreboding wasn’t crawling up his back.
“Yes,” the man said, squaring his shoulders and meeting Brent’s eyes. “So if we could manage to look as if we didn’t want to tear each other’s arms off, I think it would help Laura Beth.”
Brent’s spine stiffened a fraction more. “Well, I’ll tell you, as one of Laura’s oldest friends, I’d be happy to do whatever I can to help her. All I want to know is why you’re so all-fired concerned about her reputation in the first place.”
The man’s hazel eyes blinked behind his glasses. “Because I’m Greg Smith.”
Brent shifted into an intentionally cocky stance that any redneck down at Snake’s would have recognized as an invitation to a fight. “I suppose that name should mean something to me?”
To his credit, the man straightened with indignation rather than backing down. “Perhaps I should rephrase that. I’m Greg Smith, as in the man Laura Beth is going to marry.”
Brent felt as if a fist had slammed into his gut. “Laura’s engaged?”
The man’s chin went up a notch, even as his gaze skittered away. “We’re, eh, just waiting to set the date before we make the official announcement.” Greg Smith cleared his throat. “So I’d appreciate it if you’d at least act as if this were a civil conversation we’re having.”
Through a red haze of fury, Brent heard the man talk on for another minute or two, even felt the man shake his hand and pound him on the shoulder as if they were the best of friends. Then Greg Smith walked away, calling out for Brent to have a safe trip to Houston and to come back and visit him and Laura Beth sometime.
But in his mind, all Brent heard were the same words over and over: Laura was engaged! The whole time she’d been out gallivanting with him, she’d been engaged to another man.
“Stand by, Michaels,” Connie’s voice buzzed in his ear. “You’re in on three.”
The following seconds moved by in a blur. As if completely detached, his own voice sounded like nothing more than background noise to the clamoring in his head. Before he realized he’d even given his report, Jorge lowered the camera and gave him a big thumbs-up.
“Well,” Connie said, “that was certainly intense. Not that I’m complaining, but have you ever considered giving up the news biz to become a dramatic actor?”
“Connie?” he said tightly.
“Yes, love?”
“Screw you.”
He heard her laugh just before he ripped the IFB out of his ear to toss it and his mic at Jorge.
“Where are you going?” the kid called out as Brent headed toward the clubhouse. He didn’t answer as his attention focused solely on his destination.
—
“Hey there,” Melody Piper said from directly behind Laura.
“Oh!” Laura jumped, scattering a freshly sliced loaf of bread across the kitchen floor. Her nerves had been strung so tight all day, she startled at every sound. She almost wished that if Brent were going to leave without speaking to her, he’d just do it and get it over with. Another part of her couldn’t stop peeking out the window of the clubhouse to store up memories of how he looked working before a camera. Squatting down, she gathered up the slices of bread. “What are you doing still in town? I thought the art show was over hours ago.”
Melody raised a brow at the unfriendly welcome. “I came to collect my five bucks.”
Standing, Laura cast a quick glance toward the women of the fund-raising committee who were working the concession stand. For once, Janet and Tracy looked too busy serving barbecue through the window to be whispering behind her back and casting dagger-sharp glances her way.
“Yes, of course, your five dollars,” she said as she tried to decide what to do with the dropped bread. Finally, she threw it in the trash and headed for a table at the back of the kitchen to fetch her purse.
“You okay?” Melody asked.
“I’m fine, I’m just—” Laura cut herself off before she rattled off the truth, that she was anything but fine. Though no one had said anything to her outright, she knew the whole town was talking about her. Every time she entered a room, all conversation ceased, and she felt like a rabbit caught in a spotlight. If only Brent would leave, she could relax and find the situation a little bit amusing, rather than intensely embarrassing.
“Here you are,” she said, handing Melody a five-dollar bill.
“Thanks.” Grinning broadly, the artist snatched the money from her hand. “Although I’d waive my winnings for a few juicy details about last night.”
Laura cast a horrified glance toward the others as heat exploded in her cheeks.
�
�That good, eh?” Melody laughed, then seemed to understand the depth of Laura’s discomfort. “Never mind. I really stopped by to see if you’d made a decision on what we talked about yesterday.”
Laura frowned as she remembered the conversation they’d had about Melody looking for a roommate. With everything that had happened since, they’d never had a chance to talk about it further.
Before she could answer Melody’s question, however, the side door of the kitchen banged open, and her heart nearly leapt from her chest. She chided herself for her jumpy nerves, until she turned and found Brent filling the doorway. Silhouetted against the afternoon light, he looked like a conquering warrior come to claim his battle prize. A hush fell over the kitchen as he scanned the room with hooded eyes. When his gaze speared her, she leaned against the table at her back. Her breath turned shallow as he strode toward her.
And all she could think was that he hadn’t left without seeking her out. Not that this was how she’d pictured his final farewell. Rather than friendly sorrow, he looked angry enough to devour her on the spot.
“Laura.” He ground her name out between the clenched teeth of a false smile. She noticed his chest looked bigger when his muscles were strained with tension.
“Y-yes?” Her attempt at a normal tone failed miserably.
“I’d like to speak with you, if I may.”
“Certainly.” With trembling hands, she set her purse aside and started to walk past him. His hand clamped onto her elbow as he took the lead. Quickening her pace to keep up with his long-legged stride, she tossed a reassuring smile to the other women. Janet and Tracy gaped while Melody gave her a thumbs-up just before Brent pulled her through the door. He led her toward the back of the clubhouse, where the building shielded them from the crowd.
“Brent…” She gave a breathless laugh. “What in the world—”
He released her abruptly and spun to face her. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me you were engaged?”
“Excuse me?” She took a step back and came up against the building.
“Don’t give me that innocent look.” He stepped closer, looming over her. If only she could catch her breath, maybe she could think. Instead, her mind whirled as he turned and paced before her, accusing her of lying to him, or using him, or something to that effect. For an articulate man, he didn’t seem to be making much sense.
And then it dawned on her. He was jealous! Brent Michaels was jealous because he thought she was engaged to another man. The wonderful absurdity of it made her feel as light as a helium balloon floating off the ground.
“And what the hell are you grinning about?” he demanded.
“Brent.” She struggled to keep a straight face. “I’m not engaged.”
He straightened, clearly startled by her light mood. “You’re not?”
She shook her head, afraid that if she spoke, she’d start laughing.
“Then who the hell is Greg Smith?”
She sighed, coming back to earth. “Greg is someone I’ve gone out with off and on for the past few years. At present, we’re barely even dating.”
“Then why does he think you’re engaged?”
“Perhaps because he proposed?” she offered lamely.
“And?”
“I tried to say no, really.” She cringed at how weak that sounded. “But I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. So unfortunately, I’m afraid he may not have understood.”
“Hurt his damned feelings, if that’s what it takes. What do I care?”
She studied him a moment. “I don’t know, Brent. What do you care?”
“I—” He turned to her with a look of total confusion. “I just care, all right?”
“Why?”
“Because—” He turned away from her, running his hands through his hair.
“Brent?” She hesitated in confusion, then rested her hand on his back and felt his muscles tense beneath her palm.
“Oh, hell,” he muttered and spun back to her. She barely had a glimpse of his face before he pulled her into his arms and crushed his mouth down on hers.
Her heart took flight as he deepened the kiss. Passion sparked between them, as hot and fast as it had the night before.
“Laura,” he whispered huskily, trailing his mouth along her jaw, her cheeks her neck. “I can’t pretend last night never happened.” His hands cupped her head as his forehead rested against hers. “I can’t forget, because I can’t stop thinking about it.”
Pulling back, she stared up at him in wonder. “Me either.”
Relief washed over his face an instant before he took her mouth in another possessive kiss. If he hadn’t had a firm hold on her, she surely would have floated off the ground. She couldn’t get enough of his taste on her lips, the feel of his body pressed boldly against hers. “I guess,” he managed between kisses, “this means … we’re not … friends anymore.”
“Guess not,” she chuckled.
“Thank God.” He fit her more firmly against him, and she felt how desperately he wanted her.
“Excuse me, Mr. Michaels.” An unfamiliar voice jolted Laura out of her euphoria. “Does this mean we’re staying after all?”
Her eyes snapped open to meet Brent’s equally startled ones, as they both realized they were standing outside in broad daylight with half the town a few yards away.
Chapter 11
Brent jerked his head up to find Jorge standing at the corner of the building, his gaze politely averted.
“I’m sorry to, eh, bother you.” A smile played at the corner of the kid’s mouth as Laura buried her face against Brent’s chest. “I just wanted to know if we’re staying for the street dance after all.”
Brent dropped his arms and moved to shield Laura from view. “Go ahead and load up the van. I’ll be with you in a moment.”
“The van’s loaded.”
He gave the cameraman a pointed scowl. “Then go get some barbecue or something. I’ll find you when I’m ready.”
“All right!” With a whoop, Jorge headed off to enjoy himself.
“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” Laura asked quietly.
Turning back to her, he saw the resigned look in her eyes. “It’s not like I’m leaving you, it’s just…”
“The town,” she guessed correctly.
He gave her an apologetic look. “I think we gave them enough to talk about last night, don’t you?”
“Yeah.” She bit her lip as laughter danced in her eyes. “Good thing we’ve behaved ourselves since then.”
He groaned as he realized the extent of the scene he’d made in the kitchen. “Sorry.”
“I’m not.” She smiled. “I haven’t seen the members of the fund-raising committee so flushed and excited in years.”
“I can imagine.”
Her face sobered. “So what now?”
“I don’t know.” He thrust his hands into his trouser pockets. “I’d like to see you, only…” He didn’t know how to explain without insulting the town she loved so dearly.
She took a breath, as if building up courage. “Brent, since yesterday I’ve been thinking—about a lot of things. Well, actually, I’ve been thinking about some of this for years.”
“What sort of things?”
She crossed her arms and stared at the ground. “I, uhm, don’t suppose you noticed the woman I was talking to when you came into the kitchen?”
“Actually, no.”
“Yes, well, she’s one of the artists from the show.”
He frowned at the abrupt change in topic. “Let me guess. You’re going to break the monotony of small-town life by taking up painting?”
“Lord, no!” She laughed. He loved the sound of her laughter, and the ease with which it came to her. “I couldn’t paint a straight line if I had to. But Melody lives in Houston. And,” Laura glanced up at him, “she’s looking for a roommate.”
“Oh?” His ears perked up.
“She really only needs someone through the summer,” she said in a rush.
“Apparently that’s a busy show season for artists. Only Melody can’t do too many out-of-town shows because she has these two dogs. She claims pet-sitters are expensive, and they don’t like to take on Rottweilers; besides she could use the income from renting her spare room, which she’s tried to do before, but without much luck—”
“Laura,” he chuckled, “you’re rambling.”
“Yes, well.” She fidgeted. “I just don’t want you to think I’m trying to chase after you or pressure you into anything. Truth is, I’ve been thinking about moving to Houston for a long time. You know, to get a job. And a life.”
His mind raced as she waited for his reaction. For some reason, his stomach felt tense, even though he couldn’t think of a single downside to her plan. Making her father take care of himself would be the best thing for both of them, and her moving to Houston obliterated all obstacles to them dating.
“Well?” she prompted.
He decided to ignore the inexplicable attack of nerves. “I think that’s a great idea. When do you move?”
“I don’t know.” She frowned. “I’ll need to find someone to cook for Dad and make sure he takes his medicine. Doctors can be notoriously bad patients, and Clarice refuses to work any more hours. I just hope she doesn’t quit the minute I’m gone.”
She was backing out of it already. And knowing her father, the man would find a way to keep her chained to that house until she turned old and gray. She’d never leave solely for her own benefit—what she needed was someone else’s needs to focus on.
“I have an idea.” With a deep breath, he rushed ahead before he changed his mind. “A favor, actually. Apparently my car will be in the shop for a while.”
“Your car’s in the shop? What happened?”
He stared at her a moment, then laughed. “Wouldn’t you know, you’re the only person in town who hasn’t heard. I knocked a hole in one of the oil heat exchangers last night when I turned into that open field.”
“Oh, Brent, I’m so sorry.” She laid a hand on his arm.
“Laura.” With a playful growl, he shook her chin. “Would you stop apologizing for things that aren’t your fault? I’m the one who should apologize for endangering both our lives in that stupid race.”
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