Call Me: sold live on CBS 48 Hours (Barnes Brothers Book 1)

by Alison Kent

  Harley had always hated Sunday mornings. By the time she knew to distinguish the first day of the week from the rest, she’d dreaded the long hours spent on the back of a Harley-Davidson behind her mother. She’d wanted to spend the mornings at Sunday school, then come home to platters of fried chicken, or pot roast and mashed potatoes.

  Once she and Everly were old enough to stay home alone, Buck and Trixie had extended the hours of their Sunday rides, leaving Harley to wonder why they’d ever had children to begin with, seeing as they had no time to invest in raising them. The lack of nurturing from her parents had cemented her decision not to have children of her own.

  Today was a perfect example of her sporadic schedule. Buying trips came up on the spur of the moment without regard to the time of the year—or a child’s needs. Harley remembered too well those times as a child when her parents weren’t there when she needed them.

  And it was her own conscience she had to live with, after all.

  She sipped at her tea and fleetingly wondered how Gardner had spent his Sundays as a child, went on to wonder how he spent them now, wondered finally if a burst of melancholy was a good enough reason to call.

  “Is this a bad time to call?”

  Surprised to hear Harley’s voice, Gardner took a moment to reply. “No. I mean, don’t worry about it. Any time is good.”

  “I wasn’t sure you’d be home.”

  Glancing down at his dusty jeans and sweat-soaked denim shirt, then at the baloney sandwich he held in one hand, Gardner wondered if destiny had driven him to hunger the exact moment Harley decided to call.

  “Gardner?” She sounded unsure.

  “I just stopped in to grab a bite to eat. Five minutes either side of this one, and you would’ve missed me.”

  “Then you’re going back out. This is a bad time.”

  Gardner took a bite and slowly chewed. In addition to uncertainty, he sensed her need to talk. Serious talk. Friend-to-friend talk.

  And she’d chosen him.

  Unwilling to disappoint her—or himself—he scraped back a kitchen chair and sat. “No. It’s a good time. I’ve been up since before dawn. A break is exactly what I need right now.”

  “You don’t take Sundays off?”

  “I try to get into church with Judson and Ty at least a couple of times a month.”

  “But not today?”

  “I couldn’t make it.” Judson didn’t take kindly to his family falling asleep in the pews, and staying on the move was the only thing keeping Gardner awake. After Harley’s phone call and his second shower, he’d spent the hours until dawn on horseback.

  This morning he was running on caffeine and pure determination. “I had a horse pull up lame last night. I tended to him until the doc could make it out this morning.”

  “You have horses?”

  Gardner grinned privately. “A few.”

  “Polo ponies? Or jumpers?”

  “I don’t think I should answer that.” Gardner tore off another chunk of sandwich and popped it into his mouth. “That would be telling more about me and my business than you said you wanted to know.”

  “You’re probably right.” After a lengthy silence, Harley sighed. “Can I ask you something else instead?”

  “Sure,” Gardner replied and, with the remainder of his sandwich in hand, cocked his chair back to rest against the narrow strip of wall beside the refrigerator.

  “How did you spend your Sundays as a child?”

  He grinned to himself at the absurdity of her question. “Besides the two hours I fidgeted during the service waiting to get home and watch football?”

  “A hard core fan, huh? Did you play in school?”

  “Nope. District enrollment was too small. My senior class could’ve fielded a six-man team as long as two of the men were women.”

  “You’re kidding.” Harley sounded incredulous. “That sounds awfully… rural.”

  “Rural. Isolated. You name it,” he said, wondering if he heard distaste or disbelief in Harley’s voice.

  “So how many were in your graduating class?”

  “Four guys and fourteen girls.” Gardner laughed. “Some odds, huh?”

  “Yeah, lucky you.”

  “The other three guys were even luckier.”

  “How so?” Harley asked.

  “I was so intent on expanding the family business that I took myself out of competition.”

  “I’m not surprised.”

  “Why not?”

  “That aura of success. Carrying it off as naturally as you do comes from wearing the look for a very long time.”

  Bringing his chair back down on four legs, Gardner leaned forward and frowned “I’d be flattered if the truth wasn’t quite so hard to live with these days.”

  “In what way?”

  He thought of his nonexistent heirs again. And then he thought of Harley. Only Harley. “That single-minded focus has caused me to miss out on a lot of life. I’ve been wondering lately”—the past couple of days of knowing you, to be exact—“if it’s too late to make up for what I’ve missed.”

  “What do you think you’ve missed?” Her question held a trace of a smile.

  Gardner thought a moment, reminiscing on how he’d gotten where he was today. He’d seen his father bypass one business opportunity after another for the simple reason that he’d been unwilling to spend time away from home. Gardner had invested all of those hours—and more—researching mineral rights and oil leases, cattle breeds and insemination programs.

  He’d studied outside his college courses, poring over agricultural markets and trends, determined to make the land pay, determined to make his father remember that, in addition to a wife, he had two sons.

  Shaking off that disturbing thought, Gardner returned to Harley’s question. “What I’ve missed out on most has to be relationships. I haven’t kept in touch with any of my classmates from high school or college. And work has been my mistress for as many years as I can remember.”

  “Is that your version of safe sex?”

  Gardner laughed. “I guess you could say that. Though I think I’m gonna have to give her up and settle down.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “She provides her own sort of satisfaction but she doesn’t have what it takes to carry on the family name.” Leaning forward, Gardner reached into the fridge for a Coke. He popped the top and sipped. “Ty’s got a hell of a future waiting for him and Jud’s done the work of ten men in his lifetime.

  “Neither one of them has the desire to continue what I’ve started. If I don’t get busy and start thinking about a family, I’m not going to have anyone to leave this empire to.”

  “Do you think you’ll be able to do that?”

  He frowned. “Do what?”

  “After a lifetime of working at the pace you have, will you be able to slow down enough to raise a family?”

  He thought of his vow never to love and wondered if Harley had somehow picked up on it. “I’ve built a good, comfortable life. The time I invest in business now is more on upkeep or maintenance than expansion. I’d like to share my success before I get too old to enjoy it. And I’d like to know there’s someone to leave it to after I’m gone.”

  “That’s an interesting rationale for wanting a family.”

  Gardner chuckled. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with the rationale. Maybe I just didn’t state it as romantically as a woman would like. I mean, having a family is not something I plan to do on my own.”

  Feeling mired in a conversation that had grown too deep, Gardner ended with, “So how ’bout it, Golden? You wanna get hitched?”

  Harley blew an inelegant snort right into his ear. “Forget it, Barnes. I’ve got better ways to spend my Sundays than watching football.”

  “Oh, yeah? Name one.”

  “Today I’m going shopping. You know how it is. So many stores, so little time.”

  He sipped his drink. “Now there’s a great time if I ever heard o
ne. Would I like what you’re going to buy?”

  “Probably not, which is a good thing, because I’m not getting into any more suggestive conversations with you.”

  “Can’t take the heat, huh?”

  “I can take anything you can dish out, mister. But right now I don’t have the time. I’ve got a business trip to plan.”

  “When are you leaving?” he asked, not liking the news.

  “Tomorrow. And unfortunately, I don’t have a thing to wear.”

  Which is exactly what he’d like to see her in. Not a thing. “Harley?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “Will you call me tonight?”

  “That depends.”

  “On what?”

  “If I have time.”

  “Trust me on this one, Harley Golden,” Gardner demanded with a growl. “I’m the best investment of time you’ve ever made in your life.”

  “Think so, huh?”

  Feeling his body heat rise, Gardner ran the cold drink can over his forehead. “Believe me, I’m worth your while.”

  “Braggart.”

  “I told you before, I never lie.”

  “Well, if I can scrape up the energy after a day of shopping, I’ll call.”

  “Harley?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “One more thing.”

  “Just one,” she said. He pictured her holding up a single finger. “And it can’t involve beds, nightgowns, or showers.”

  He shook his head, enjoying her humor and the fact that she could tease about a subject that had nearly gotten out of hand.

  “Gardner, what is it?” she prompted when he remained silent.

  “I was wondering if you got what you needed from this call.”

  “Yeah,” she said, her voice that sexy sigh he loved to hear. “I think I did.”

  “Good. I’ll talk to you this evening.” Gardner rang off and sat in his kitchen. The silence of the house enclosed him in familiarity and comfort.

  He had no reason not to believe that he’d fulfilled whatever need Harley had for calling. No reason at all, except the niggling concern that she was having second thoughts about him, about what they’d started, maybe even about herself.

  He’d wager King’s next six calves that somewhere in her life she’d had her confidence shattered. He wondered how, and by whom, then realized it didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to give up on her because of that.

  But thinking about Harley and heirs in the same breath cemented his need to know more. Her parents were bikers. She ate tofu for Christmas. Her designer tastes required money. A lot of money. Not that he was one to jump to conclusions but he was one to be safe rather than sorry.

  He glanced at the cracked face of his watch. In a matter of minutes, Judson and Ty would be rolling in, which gave him just enough time to make a call.

  He picked up the phone, checked the call list, and entered Harley’s number into his cell. Then he called a number he knew by heart. A number that belonged to a person who provided him facts and figures and background information anytime—and on anyone—he needed.

  EIGHT

  HARLEY’S STRANGE TRIP INTO MELANCHOLY vanished by the time she returned from shopping. When had she ever made so many impulsive purchases in one single day? Mona and Everly would both be proud.

  The long denim skirt and Navajo blanket wrap would be perfect to wear to the country auction with her riding boots and handkerchief-linen blouse. But what she absolutely couldn’t wait to wear—and still couldn’t believe she’d bought—was a pair of cherry red jeans and matching Justin ropers.

  She hadn’t owned a pair of jeans since… when? They’d certainly been BB—Before Brad. Obviously, her subliminal conscious had still been shopping with Brad’s tastes in mind. Had she shopped today for herself? Or for Gardner Barnes?

  Call-waiting beeped on the line while she was making arrangements with a bed-and-breakfast near Fredericksburg.

  “Do you need to get that?” asked the clerk. “I’ll be glad to hold.”

  “No. If it’s important, they’ll call back,” she answered, and finished making her reservations.

  When the phone rang a second time a couple of hours later, she was struggling into her freshly washed and dried and shrunk-at-least-one-size red jeans. She belly flopped across the bed and jerked up the receiver.

  “Hello?”

  “Miss Golden? Dr. Fischer here.”

  She suppressed a groan, hoping he would ask if this was a good time so she could say no. “Dr. Fischer. What can I do for you?”

  “I’m just following up on the message I left you Friday. Have you had an opportunity to pursue my lead?”

  Give a girl a chance, will ya, Doc? “I’m afraid I didn’t have any luck locating the bottle in Spring. None of the shop owners I spoke with remembered having stocked or sold one recently. I did find a pharmacist’s scale, however.”

  “Wonderful. When can I see it?”

  “It’s being couriered over tomorrow but I’m leaving first thing in the morning for central Texas. I won’t be back in town before the end of the week.” Harley didn’t tell him about the bottles or the hospital supplies for fear he’d hunt her down.

  “I can’t say I’m not disappointed but perhaps you’ll have more to show me when you return.”

  “There’s a good chance,” Harley assured him. “I’ve had phenomenal luck finding hidden treasures at small estate sales.”

  “You will be in touch, won’t you?”

  “Of course, Doctor.”

  “Until then. And, Miss Golden—”

  “Yes?” she prompted.

  He cleared his throat “Thank you for your efforts. Re-creating the history of medicine has become an obsession with me. I appreciate your hard work.”

  “You’re welcome, Dr. Fischer.” Harley hung up feeling guilty for every uncharitable thought she’d had about the man.

  After struggling out of the jeans, she folded them, having decided they would work better on a day for browsing through shops than on a day of driving. To drive, she needed to breathe.

  She’d just pulled her overnighter from the closet when the phone rang again. Not wanting to chance another guilt trip with Dr. Fischer, she let the answering machine pick up.

  I am currently unavailable, Harley mouthed along with the recording, then added verbally, and very loudly, “And I intend to be so for the next twelve hours.”

  The beep sounded and Harley waited. And waited. And had her hand halfway to the receiver when she heard, “Harley?”

  Gardner. She didn’t know whether to be thrilled or annoyed.

  “Don’t pick up if you’re there.”

  As if she was about to give him the satisfaction? Uh-uh. Not a chance.

  “I just wanted you to know that I’d looked you up. I don’t want any secrets standing in the way. And I’m not going to show up unannounced. I could find you. But I think I’ll let you come to me. I want you to call the shots. This is your fantasy, after all.

  “So tell me what you want. Tell me what turns you on. Tell me your darkest secrets, your deepest desires. But be warned. Tonight I want you. Fiercely. And what I can’t do to your body, I plan to do to your mind. Call me, when the waiting gets to be too much. Call me. Call—” Beeeeeeeeep.

  The disconnecting click barely registered. All Harley heard was Gardner’s voice. She took her phone off the hook, though she knew with a sixth sense of certainty that he wouldn’t call again.

  He’d told her what he wanted—and what he wanted from her. The question was whether or not Gardner Barnes was the man to meet her needs.

  She had too much of the real stuff yet to learn. All those things that might spoil her fantasy. Would he leave beard stubble in the sink? Would he eat the last four Oreos she’d stashed away for a bout of PMS? Would he cuddle her close after they made love or roll over and go to sleep?

  Harley set the phone’s receiver back in the cradle. A smug smile pulled at her lips. Oh, she’d wait all right. She’d
wait until she was sure Gardner couldn’t stand it anymore. Then she’d call and let him know just exactly who was in charge of this relationship.

  He wanted fantasy? Easy. She was working on a doozy. He wanted secrets? Fine. She had ones she’d never told a living soul. He wanted desires? No problem. She’d give him a phone call to knock his socks off.

  Gardner had just come up with another name to call himself using the word ass when the phone rang. Fully clothed, he carried the portable phone outside—away from his bedroom and his bed. Easing down into the porch rocker, he answered.

  “I didn’t want you to know anything about me,” she said, sounding more playful than upset.

  “What I know is what you’ve told me.” But only because he hadn’t yet heard back on that score. “And your phone number.”

  “My phone number tells you where I am.”

  “Your phone number puts you in one of the biggest urban sprawls in the country.” He cringed at the thought of living like that. “I’m not coming to Houston to find you until you tell me to.”

  “You broke the rules. I think you need to be punished.”

  Punished? That sounded promising. He cleared his throat then asked, “What kind of punishment did you have in mind?”

  “I’m going to talk. You’re going to listen.”

  Okay. She’d warned him. Studying the toes of his boots, he set the rocker in motion and forced himself to relax. “I’m all ears.”

  “I thought about you earlier,” she began. “When I was in the shower. I never realized how many hard-to-reach spots there are on the female body.”

  “Besides your back?”

  “I told you to listen,” she admonished sharply. “If you don’t behave, I’ll have to stop your punishment.”

  He took an immediate vow of silence.

  “That’s better. Now, I thought I’d let you know that the back of my thighs is another place I have trouble getting to. I feel like I’m doing a contortionist act, you know, twisting and bending. If you’d been there, it would have been much easier.”

  No. It would have been much harder.