A Little Town in Texas

by Bethany Campbell

  “Yes,” he answered. “Nobody in the county has tried to built a coalition to support Bluebonnet Meadows.”

  Kitt frowned. “But the Concerned Citizens group has members who could profit if Fabian wins.”

  “Yes,” Howard nodded. “For instance, Douglas Evans. His pub and hotel could profit. So could his real estate business. But he came to Crystal Creek because of its old-fashioned charm. He wants it to keep that charm.”

  Her brow furrowed, remembering how oddly Douglas Evans had acted toward her this afternoon. Slowly she said, “Has anyone done a study of how much money Bluebonnet Meadows might bring the town?”

  “Not to my knowledge,” Howard said.

  But Brian Fabian is smart enough to do it, she thought. He can convince the town that Bluebonnet Meadows is the goose that can lay golden eggs. And that only a fool would kill it.

  She said, “So Fabian’s biggest enemy here is the Concerned Citizens group,” she said.

  “Exactly.”

  She leaned forward in her chair earnestly, her fingers linked together. “Reverend Blake, if you were Fabian, how would you fight them?”

  “I’m a minister, not a strategist,” he said with a wry smile. “But I’ve read Aesop’s fables, and I know the truth of the morals. If the town and country stand united against him, he’ll lose.”

  “You really think so?” she asked, raising an eyebrow dubiously.

  “I said ‘if,’” he cautioned her. “It’s a small word that casts a big shadow. So if I were Fabian, which thankfully I am not, I would set out to divide—and conquer.”

  “And how would you do that?” she asked.

  “By setting people against each other,” he said. “Lines of division are already showing. He might do everything in his power to widen them.”

  “But again, how?”

  “From what I’ve heard of the man, he might do anything.”

  She pondered this, staring at the apple and the orange, so futile to compare. She desperately wanted to ask Howard Blake something else: what he thought of Fabian setting one brother against another. And what he thought of Mel for taking up a vendetta against his own blood.

  But she could not quite bring herself to utter the questions. The silence grew long.

  At last Howard Blake said in a gentle voice, “Enough about the land. What about you, Kitt? Are you happy? Are you fulfilled? Do you feel that life’s been good to you?”

  She raised her eyes to meet his and gave him an uncertain smile. “I love New York. I love my job. Yes, life’s been very good to me.”

  “So we did the right thing by sending you to Dallas?”

  She bit her lower lip and looked away. “Yes,” she said. “It was absolutely the right thing. It made everything else possible.”

  “It’s good to hear you say that,” he said with a strange note of sadness. “I’ve hoped so. I’ve prayed so. You seem to have done well materially.”

  “Oh, yes,” she assured him. “I live in the most exciting city in the world, I live comfortably. And I practically have a promotion guaranteed.”

  “Materially, you’re well-off. But what about the inner Kitt? Still carrying scars? Or do you feel healed?”

  It was wrong to lie in general, she thought. It was worse to lie to a minister, especially one who’d been as kind to her as Howard Blake. “A few scars,” she admitted. “But no gaping wounds. I’m fine. Really.”

  “You haven’t married,” he said. “Is it because of—well, you know?”

  “I’ve had no desire to get married,” she said. “I’m happy just as I am.”

  “Ah,” he said. “Maybe someday a fine fellow will come along who’ll change your mind.”

  “Maybe,” she said, but she didn’t believe it. She’d allowed no room in her life for any kind of real commitment. For the first time she could remember, the fact depressed her.

  Perhaps Howard sensed her darkened mood. “I saw Nora late this afternoon,” he said, the tone of his voice more cheerful. “She said you and she took my name in vain the other night. That you laughed yourselves silly over my—embarrassment—when Spot tried to get himself saved.”

  “Oh!” Kitt gasped, caught out. But she looked at the dog in his lap and smiled. The animal was a double for the infamous Spot. “You haven’t learned your lesson, eh?” she teased.

  He scratched the dog’s brown ears. “Yes, I have,” he joked. “When I go to church, this fellow’s locked tight in a fenced-in yard. The good Lord invented dogs, but He didn’t intend them to trot in to church during the middle of a sermon and scratch their fleas.”

  When Kitt had to leave, he walked her to the door, and the sleepy terrier walked behind them, its nails clicking on the tiles. It didn’t seem to want to leave the man’s side for a second.

  Howard took her hand between his large ones. “It’s good to have you home, Kitt,” he said. “Eva will call you. We want you to come to supper one of these nights. Nora will have to be generous and share you.”

  She promised she would, then left. He watched her make her way back to her car, he and the dog standing on the porch. She felt great warmth for the man, yet he made her also feel oddly empty and defenseless. Almost as empty and defenseless as when she’d been sixteen years old.

  Suddenly she wished with all her heart that she hadn’t agreed to be with Mel Belyle tonight.

  MEL SAT on the hotel bed, holding the receiver to his ear, his knuckles pale.

  “I know where you are,” his younger brother, Jack, said. “Thank God Mom doesn’t know about it. Why didn’t you check with me before you did this?”

  Mel’s jaw squared dangerously. “I don’t have to ask you what to do.”

  Jack’s voice was taut with accusation. “Mom would never want you to pull something like this. It’s like you’re gunning for Nick.”

  “Mom isn’t speaking to him,” Mel retorted. “She’s done everything but disown him. He’s shamed her. He’s shamed us all.”

  “She’ll get over it. For God’s sake, don’t make it worse.”

  “This is between Nick and me. You stay out of it. How in hell did you even find out? This is a confidential mission.”

  “Some woman called my office,” Nick flung back. “Her name was Tawny or some damn thing. She said she wanted to get in touch with you, but all she knew was that you were in Texas. Somewhere around Austin. I put two and two together. It wasn’t exactly rocket science.”

  Mel cursed under his breath. Tawnee Phipps was a model who was gorgeous, but as predatory as a barracuda. Before he’d left, she’d phoned him in the middle of the night, wheedling him about where he was going, he’d been too groggy to lie well.

  Now he had Jack on his case. “What’s going on in your head?” Jack challenged. “Why’d you let Fabian send you? Aren’t things bad enough?”

  Mel allowed himself a small, crooked smile. “Fabian didn’t send me. I volunteered.”

  “You’re crazy,” Jack muttered. “Leave it alone. Nick nearly broke Mom’s heart. You’re going to make things worse.”

  “I’m going to make things right,” Mel countered. “Nick screwed up. He sabotaged the whole operation. I’m here to undo the harm he’s done.”

  Jack said nothing for a moment. Then in a bitter voice, he muttered, “Mom could forgive Nicky if you’d just stay out of it. You should forgive him, too. He’s your brother.”

  “No,” Mel contradicted. “Not any longer, he’s not.”

  “And he’s not Fabian’s number one man any longer, either,” Jack shot back. “You want his place. That’s it, isn’t it? You were always afraid that Fabian wanted Nick on his work force the most. And that he played on Mom’s feelings about you to get him. You’ve resented Nick, and now—”

  Mel hung up on him. He could imagine the scorn on his younger brother’s chiseled face. Of the three brothers, Jack was the most intense and the most volatile.

  Swearing again, Mel rose from the bed. He paced to the mirror and studied his image. He
was a handsome man, and he knew it. He saw behind the looks, though. He knew who really lived behind that face.

  I’m grateful. I’m loyal, he told himself. I’m not like Nick. I didn’t resent him. He resented me. He forced Jack’s words out of his memory. What did Jack know? Things had always come easily for him. Too easily.

  Mel straightened the collar of his blue silk shirt. He was dressed well for his evening with Kitt and the Slatterys. The irony was that Kitt wouldn’t care. She’d probably be in her cargo pants, her vest of many pockets and her well-worn shoes.

  She simply didn’t seem to give a damn about appearances. He ran his finger critically over his upper lip. He wondered if he should have shaved again. Maybe he’d just slap on a few more drops of cologne; he hadn’t put on any since this morning.

  Just as he unscrewed the bottle cap, a knock rattled his door. He glanced up in bemusement. He expected nobody. Kitt was supposed to phone when she was ready.

  He walked to the door, swung it open, and there stood Kitt in all her tousled glory.

  She’d swept her hair back into a ponytail, but already tendrils were hanging loose, trailing in front of her ears and at the nape of her neck. Her only makeup was a touch of coral lipstick.

  She leaned one hand against the door frame. “Hi,” she said with exaggerated casualness. “I’m early. I thought I’d just stop by. I didn’t realize I’d catch you while you were still primping.”

  She looked pointedly at the bottle of cologne in his hand. She was garbed just as he’d expected: the plain white turtleneck, the khaki pants, the unflattering vest. Still, she looked terrific to him. She looked pretty and brimming with life.

  And she was teasing him, as usual. He looked her up and down, pretending to be unimpressed by what he saw.

  “Do you always wear that same damn outfit?” he asked. “The vest and all?”

  “This is a great vest,” she said. “It holds everything—pens, markers, tablets, sunglasses, cell phone, flashlight, sewing kit.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t you get tired of it?”

  “I like to be prepared. And to travel light,” she said. “I rinse things out at night. All I need is a couple shirts, a change of underwear—I’m set.”

  He swallowed and tried not to think of her underwear. He was sure it was plain and utilitarian. He was also sure she’d look great in it, much more intriguing than if she’d opted for the blatant sexiness of Victoria’s Secret.

  She frowned as her eyes swept him, measuring him as he’d measured her. “But you’re your usual Gentleman’s Quarterly self. Where’d you keep all those clothes? You were carrying hardly anything in the airport.”

  “I had my clothes sent ahead. It’s a special travel service.”

  “Wow,” she said. “So that’s how the other half lives. Well, I’m ready to go. Whenever you finish anointing yourself.”

  He screwed the cap on the bottle and set it aside. “You’re a sassy little thing.”

  “I am,” she admitted. “And a walking fashion disaster. I’m surprised you let yourself be seen with me.”

  “It’s either you or another night with the Walls,” he lied. “You’re the lesser of two evils.”

  “We’ll see about that.” An impish smile curved her lips.

  His heart banged crazily as he looked at that beguiling mouth. He thought, I want you. I want you so much it makes me half-crazy.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  KITT AND NORA STOOD at the kitchen counter, chopping vegetables to garnish the pizza. Ken had taken Mel to the ranch’s hangar to show him J.T.’s Cessna and his army surplus helicopter.

  “So J.T. flies emergency cases into Austin sometimes?” Kitt said.

  “Yup,” Nora said. “He’s a godsend.”

  Through the window Kitt saw the men returning from the hangar. As Mel neared the house, the porch light fell on his high cheekbones, his straight nose, his maddeningly perfect mouth. Kitt’s midsection tightened in excited longing. She tried to fight down the feeling.

  Nora noticed him, too. “Great googly moogly, he is the best-looking thing. How do you keep your mind on your work?”

  “No problem. I just wish he hadn’t invited himself here,” Kitt grumbled. “What’s he thinking of?”

  “You,” Nora said with a laugh, pelting her with an olive. “Can’t you see, you ninny? He likes you.”

  Kitt neatly caught the olive and popped it in her mouth. “Ridiculous,” she said. For emphasis she spit the pit into the garbage.

  “He keeps stealing looks at you,” Nora countered. “When he thinks nobody’s watching. Such looks. Like he’s eating you with his eyes.”

  “He’s just getting even,” Kitt muttered, chopping with a passion. “I’ve been shadowing him, giving him a hard time. He wants to give me a taste of my own medicine.”

  “He likes you, all right.” Nora gave her a wise, sidelong smile. “And you like him. You like to tease each other. You strike sparks.”

  Kitt laid down the paring knife and put her hand on her hip. “He and I couldn’t get involved if we wanted to. Our jobs forbid it.”

  Nora laughed. “Shhh. Here they come.”

  Ken swung open the back door, and he and Mel entered the kitchen, as Nora slid the pizza into the oven. “Well, did you two inspect the air force?”

  Ken shook his head. “Something’s leaking in the Cessna’s engine. Looked, but couldn’t find it. I’ll try again tomorrow. Right now I’m ready to wash up and have a beer.”

  “Sounds good,” said Mel.

  “Oh, rats, look at you,” Nora said, moving to Mel. “You’ve got oil on that beautiful shirt. Men and motors—yech!”

  Kitt stole a covert look. A dark smudge stained the shoulder of his blue shirt. She almost flinched. He was the kind of man who looked sexy with his sleeves rolled up and a bit of grime on him.

  “It’s no big deal,” Mel shrugged. “The cleaners’ll get it out.”

  “No, no,” fussed Nora. “Let me have it—please. I’ll put some spot remover on it. If you let it set, it’ll be ruined. It’ll drive me nuts all through supper. Do an obsessive lady a favor and hand it over.”

  Ken fought back a grin. “Better do what she says. Once her mind’s made up, that’s that. Nora, pop us a couple of cold ones, will you, honey?”

  “Sure enough, hon,” Nora said.

  The two men made their way down the hall, and Nora pulled open the refrigerator door, plucked out two bottles of Lone Star beer, and neatly uncapped them. “You want one, too?” she asked Kitt, “or would you rather have Chianti?”

  “Chianti, thanks. But I’ll wait for supper.”

  “You’ve got it,” Nora said. She pulled a glass plate of appetizers from the fridge, then bumped the door shut with her hip.

  In almost one movement, she set the plate on the kitchen table, spun, opened the freezer and drew out two chilled mugs. She filled them expertly and set them on the counter for the men.

  “You have that down to a science,” Kitt said moodily.

  “Lawsy, I ought to, after all these years of slinging hash.”

  “Doesn’t it bother you?” Kitt asked. “Waiting on people all the time? Even here at home?”

  Nora gave her a peculiar look and started to set the table with professional efficiency. “I’m not waiting on people here. I’m having supper with my husband and guests. It’s fun.”

  “Yes, but at the Longhorn all day—”

  “That’s different,” Nora said.

  “But it’s not what you really want to do,” Kitt persisted. “Don’t you ever wish you were still teaching?”

  “I wish a lot of things. But I’ve got no complaints. I’m a lucky woman,” Nora said. “Where’d I put that blasted spot remover?”

  Kitt crossed her arms. “Why clean his shirt? You’re not his maid. And he’s probably got a thousand shirts.”

  “Why let the life work of some poor silkworm go to waste?” Nora asked blithely, reaching for a bottle.

  �
��He’s probably got a thousand silk shirts. I’m just saying you don’t have to wait on him. You didn’t even invite him.”

  “Look—I don’t mind. It’ll make for an interesting night,” said Nora. She glanced at the kitchen clock. “I wonder if Rory’s going to call tonight? Sometimes he calls on Tuesdays. I wish he would. He sounded like he had a cold this weekend. He doesn’t get enough rest. I’m not sure he’s eating right, either.”

  You worry about everybody but yourself, Kitt thought, watching Nora bustle. It’s not right. But she said, “I’m sure he’s fine. He’s a great kid.”

  Rory, Nora’s son by Gordon, was a freshman at Tulane, majoring in journalism. Kitt was flattered he’d chosen the same field as she had and was almost as proud of him as Nora.

  She was about to ask about Rory’s work on the newspaper, when Mel returned, his shirt slung carelessly over one T-shirt clad shoulder. The T-shirt hugged his chest and revealed the hard bulges of his biceps.

  “Here,” Nora commanded holding out her hand. “And your beer’s on the counter. Have a seat and an appetizer.”

  With a half-shy smile, Mel gave her the shirt. “A woman like you could make a man like domesticity,” he said.

  Nora blushed prettily, and Kitt felt both inadequate and rebellious. She wouldn’t have cleaned his shirt for a thousand bars of gold bullion. She crossed her arms more stubbornly and looked away from him.

  HE FELT AT HOME.

  How unexpected. How stupid. How nice. How painful.

  These impressions chased each other through Mel’s mind like insane squirrels that dived, swooped and jumped without aim or logic. He tried to fight off the feelings and kept his expression under control. Expertly he wielded his smile, and with precision he utilized his charm.

  He usually did not give a damn if people liked him. If he needed them, he beguiled them as best he could. He used them, then moved on, and afterward he didn’t look back.

  He had a low opinion of human nature. Most of the people he met were on the make, one way or the other. If he had no access to power, they wouldn’t give him the time of day, and he knew it.