by Alison Kent
“But we’ve already talked about baths and showers. And beds. Though I did change my sheets tonight with you in mind. I wasn’t sure what might go with Fruit of the Looms. I started digging in the linen closet and found the perfect set. Everly sent them to me last year on my birthday.”
Sweat broke out on Gardner’s brow. He dropped his hat to the porch beside him and buried his face in the crook of his denim-covered elbow.
“They’re satin. Hot pink drizzled in black.”
He stretched out his legs and groaned. He’d be fine. He really would.
“I thought about wearing a gown. But then I thought of you.”
He popped the snaps down the front of his shirt and leaned back in the rocker, the mound of his zipper pointing straight to the moon.
“I have on panties if you can call them that. They cover most of what they’re supposed to. The lace cups of the bra don’t cover anything. But I think that’s the whole point. Don’t you?”
Oh, yeah. He got the point. And the point was getting stiffer.
“Oh,” she went on, Miss Innocent if there ever was one. “Did I tell you they’re black? Except for the garter belt. It’s the same color as the sheets. And the stockings are fishnet.”
Now he was strangling.
“I lit candles when I got into bed, you know, thinking of you. The room smells honey sweet,” she murmured appreciatively. “I left the rest of the lights off so the shadows on the wall flicker.”
Choking, desperate to breathe.
“I wasn’t sure what to do with my hair so I piled it on top of my head. I’ll let you take it down. Is that okay?”
He said nothing. Nothing.
“I even put on lipstick.” She moaned as if running her tongue over her lips. “I thought it might be fun to leave marks on your body. Everywhere I kiss you. And, Gardner?”
“Huh?” he barely managed to croak out.
“I plan to kiss you everywhere.” She kissed into the phone. “Sweet dreams.”
Gardner hung up once he realized the buzzing in his head was the dial tone.
Shoving off his shirt, he stood, jerked his boots and socks from his feet, and walked barefoot across the yard. Dazed, he dropped his jeans and drawers inside the corral and went face first into the horse trough.
“You feelin’ okay, boy?”
Gardner stared blankly at his uncle, then at the pile of scrambled eggs and hot buttered toast steaming on the table. “What makes you ask?”
“Oh, little things. Like the clothes I found scattered across the yard this morning. I thought in a fit of delirious fever you mistook the horse trough for your bathtub.”
Judson turned from the stove. “But now that you’re standing here dripping on my floor, wearing nothing but a towel, I’m thinking maybe your fever’s in your brain.”
“Sorry,” Gardner mumbled. “I showered in the bunkhouse. I didn’t have a change of clothes”—he glanced down—“or a bigger towel.”
After his dunking in the trough, he couldn’t handle the prospect of sleeping alone in his own bed, so he’d bedded down on a pallet of saddle blankets in the barn.
Last night he’d figured discomfort was the way to go. The spring-fed waters that pumped into the bunkhouse well had done a good job cooling his physical fever. But standing here, looking like a loon dripping onto Judson’s clean floor, brought it all back.
Once he got through with her, Harley Golden wouldn’t know the meaning of punishment. He planned to turn her inside out.
“Gardner!”
His head snapped up.
“Grab the mop out of the laundry room and clean up this mess,” Judson ordered, gesturing with one hand while he scrambled more eggs with the other. “And you might give a wipe to the stairs, too, considering it’s your dirt still sittin’ there, and dammit, boy, fasten that towel tighter. This ain’t no porn show.”
Water dripped down Gardner’s back and into the towel knotted at his waist. He bit off a curse and spun around, grabbing the mop from the corner behind the washing machine. He soaked up the puddle and swiped his way up the stairs.
A yawning Ty waited for him at the top. “You forget where your bathroom is, big brother?”
Gardner brandished the mop head like a weapon. Ty jumped back. “Last time I looked it was two doors down the hall from yours. You got a problem with that, I’ll lend you my suitcase.”
“Why would I want to go anywhere? I’ve got a front row seat to the Gardner Barnes Show. Or is it”—Ty hid half his face with one hand—“the Phantom of the Ranch? He wears his towel to hide his shame.”
“I’ll show you shame,” Gardner growled. The mop clattered to the floor. He whipped off his towel and, with a flick of his wrist, wound it into a twisted rope. Before Ty could think to blink, he found himself calf-tied, one ankle and two wrists bound together. “Let’s see you get yourself out of that one, college boy.”
Ty worked at the knot. “At least I’m not the one standing naked in the hall.”
“Tyler, that you I hear up there?”
“Be right down, Uncle Jud,” he called, then grumbled to himself, “Soon as I figure out how to scoot bassackward down the stairs.”
“Ty,” Judson called again. “If your brother’s still standing there, tell him he left the damn phone outside last night. I got his boots and hat off the porch, but he’s gonna have to get the rest of his clothes out of the corral hisself.”
Tyler lay back on the wooden floor and grinned. “More late night phone calls, big brother?”
Gardner scowled down. “What we ought to be talking about here is not my phone calls, but the Friday afternoon excuse of studying you used to get out of chores, and the fact that you didn’t make it home with a single book. Leave them over at Tamara Shotweiler’s, did you?”
Ty colored, then smiled as inspiration struck. “I don’t know, Gardner. I’m thinking maybe what we ought to talk about is me laying here tied up and you standing there butt naked.”
Gardner jerked the towel free from Ty’s arms. “Get down to breakfast and see to it that you’re here after school.” He knotted the towel at his waist. “And as far as studying goes, just make me proud, Tyler.”
Gardner slammed the door to his bedroom on the sound of his brother lumbering down the stairs. Knowing he deserved every bit of ribbing he got from both Ty and Jud didn’t make it easier to swallow the fact that he was being led around by his libido like it was filling in for his brain.
He knew why Harley had done what she’d done. If their relationship held to convention, last night would’ve been their third date. Harley had decided to show him her strength, to tell him she was an equal partner with equal say. She’d taken charge and, instead of a kiss to get the juices of imagination stirring, she’d given great talk.
Gardner had been stirred by her words and her feminine power, stirred enough to want to take this relationship further. He didn’t mean to bed, not right now, though he knew they were headed there eventually.
He could do worse for himself than a woman with Harley’s imagination. Sexual compatibility went a long way in a marriage—especially a loveless marriage.
If he’d never seen her, he’d be more content to let things ride. But knowing what she looked like, more than liking what he saw, and the awareness that she felt the same put a twist to the tension of the phone calls.
Gardner didn’t know which was twisted more, his mind or his gut. The hard-on he could live with, or at least work around. But the mind games made for bad business.
He figured he could afford to take a couple of days off—more like, he couldn’t afford not to. Judson was right. He had a fever. He needed a cure in a bad way.
If she called tonight, he’d find out how long she’d be away. And when she got home, she’d find him waiting. Then they’d take things from there. If she didn’t call, he’d head to Houston first thing in the morning and find out exactly where Harley Golden lived.
NINE
MONA WALKED INTO T
HE SHOP Monday morning wearing a swing tent top and skinny pegged pants in apple green and tangerine. Fruit-shaped earrings in the respective shapes and colors hung from each ear.
She spun a circle on the toes of her sling-back mules. “Well, what do you think?”
Harley watched Mona’s hair settle into place with the same easy wave as her top. “It’s a step away from the Far East drag queen but I’m not sure in what direction.”
Mona propped one retro-sixties outfitted hip on the corner of Harley’s desk. “I have suffered a nervous breakdown and emerged unscathed. Bring on the breakfast.”
“Hold that thought,” Harley ordered and stepped into the recessed alcove around the corner from her desk:
She returned with a tray bearing croissants, bagels, and muffins, along with butter, cream cheese, and raspberry jam. Setting the tray on her desk, she reached for a second platter laden with a Limoges tea service and a steeping pot of Earl Grey.
“Well,” Mona began. Lips pursed, she touched her finger to the banana glaze drizzled down the side of one muffin, then pinched off a blueberry and popped it onto her tongue. “I think I’ll fall apart more often.”
Harley reached for a poppy-seed bagel. “Are things better with you and Gibson?”
“Let’s just say Gibson has a lot on his mind.”
“Such as shopping for matching wedding bands?”
“Gibson doesn’t do jewelry.”
“Then how about two tickets for a honeymoon cruise?”
“Let’s just say Gibson is reconsidering whether he prefers to have his mid-life crisis or me.”
“Ah, an ultimatum.”
“I prefer to think of it as chaos management.” Mona split open the muffin, then frowned when she caught sight of the suitcase tucked in the kneehole of Harley’s desk. “You did it, didn’t you? Spent Sunday reading the trade rags just like I said you would.”
“Only until noon. Then I went shopping. And… made a couple of phone calls.”
Mona’s eyes widened theatrically. “You called him back.”
“Saturday night, Sunday morning and Sunday evening.” Harley dipped a knife in the cream cheese and dotted her bagel half.
Mona waved off the complaint. “I’m surprised you still have a voice this morning.”
“I have Earl Grey for that,” she said, pouring them both a cup.
“What’s a little sore throat when you’re investing in your future? I’m sure he’s worth every hundred-dollar bill.” Mona meowed, closing her lips around her muffin.
Harley smiled to herself, absently reaching for another scoop of cream cheese “He said pretty close to the same thing.”
“Not lacking in self-confidence, is he?”
“Or sex appeal. Or apparently money. Mona, he talked about sending his kid brother to A & M to study veterinary medicine.” Harley slapped the knife back and forth across her bagel. “He didn’t even stutter over the cost. He just stated it as a fact of life.”
“Hmmm.” Mona chewed, then poured two cups of tea. “First he’s gorgeous. And now he’s loaded. When are you going to see him again?”
Loaded. Harley couldn’t even think about that now. It put an external spin on what was a very internal connection. One she didn’t want to lose. “If I see him again it won’t be anytime soon. I’m off to Fredericksburg for an auction tomorrow. I thought I’d spend a few days checking the out-of-the-way shops around Austin and San Antonio.”
Declining Mona’s offer of cream, Harley lifted her cup and blew across the steaming surface. “Mrs. Mitchmore called this morning and wants me to look for a linen tablecloth. Are you up to holding down the fort for the rest of the week?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You didn’t sound too great last time I talked to you.”
“That was before Gibson dropped by and reminded me why his senior class voted him Most Likely to Succeed Without Trying.”
Harley couldn’t help it. “Do I need to be on the lookout for a crib?”
“No, but you might want to pick up a suitable bridesmaid dress,” she said causing Harley to sputter her tea. “I know how you love old clothes.”
“Almost as much as you hate them.” Harley couldn’t remember ever smiling a bigger smile. She pulled Mona into a fierce hug. “I can’t believe it. The man who doesn’t believe in the arcane tradition of marriage finally popped the question.”
“Well, not exactly,” Mona mumbled into Harley’s ear.
Drawing back, Harley asked, “What do you mean, ‘not exactly’?”
“The only thing that popped was Gibson’s jaw when it hit the ground. He has a much better understanding now of why I was voted Most Likely to Win in a Battle of Wills.”
Harley laughed. “Now why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“What can I say?” Mona gave a saucy shrug. “I love the man. He loves me.”
“But you want him to put his money where his mouth is.”
“Exactly. If he wants me to invest the rest of my life in his mid-life crisis—not to mention sacrificing my lithe and lovely body,” Mona added with a dramatic shimmy, “he’d better be willing to make the same commitment.”
“Well said. And well executed.” Harley applauded loudly, wondering how the human race had managed to survive so long between battles of wills and mid-life crises.
“Listen, I’d better be off. I left the number of the bed-and-breakfast where I’ll be staying right here,” she said, indicating a slip of paper tucked into one of two dozen cubbyholes in the desk. “I’ll call you when I get there tonight.”
“Are you going to be calling anyone else tonight?”
“I’ve thought about it,” Harley admitted, lowering her cup and saucer to the desk.
Mona licked her fingers clean of muffin crumbs and glaze. “I believe that Fredericksburg is getting close to Gardner’s area code.”
“I’ve thought about that, too.”
“And if you’re staying in a bed-and-breakfast it’s sure to have nice sun-dried sheets and fluffy pillows and a huge feather bed. Just the way you like it.”
“How do you know what I like?”
“I’ve worked with you for four years, Harley. If it disgusts me, you’ll love it.”
“That works in reverse, you know. You with the black-tiled bath and speakeasy bedroom.”
“What kind of bedroom do you think Gardner Barnes has?” Mona asked, her gaze glazed and dreamy.
“He has an antique four-poster and a candlewick quilt.”
“A match made in heaven.” Mona clasped her hands to her chest, then narrowed one sharp eye. “How do you know so much about his bed? Harley, did you have phone sex?”
Harley felt her blush rise from the inside out. “No. Not really. But he asked me about my bed so I asked him about his.”
“What else did he ask you?”
“Only about my nightgown. You know, that one Everly sent?”
“You mean that strappy piece of sin and sex?”
She nodded. “And I told him about the sheets.”
“Not the—”
“Yes, the pink-and-black ones.”
“Oh, Harley, what must he think? First the Evan Picone suit and now Victoria’s Secret. You’ve given him everything a man wants. From sophistication to sluttery.”
“Sluttery?”
“You know what I mean. Did you ask him about the Excalibur thing?”
“No, but I did ask him how many times he’s pulled this business-card number.”
“And?”
“He said I was his first.”
“The man wants you. I knew it.” Mona reached for Harley’s suitcase. “What are you waiting for? Get going. I’ll call the bed-and-breakfast and tell them you’ll need coffee for two.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” Harley ordered, eyeing the inch of cream cheese she’d slathered on her bagel. She set it down with disgust.
They walked out the back door of the shop into the narrow alleyway where Harley parked
her Blazer. She climbed behind the wheel, adjusting the cuffed hem of her denim shorts before she shut the door. “Call me if you get any special requests while I’m gone.”
“Don’t worry.” Mona set the suitcase behind Harley’s seat. “I plan to sell you out of a job so you can retire in the manner to which you deserve to become accustomed.”
Harley blinked at Mona’s convoluted logic. “And who’s going to provide this lifestyle of the rich and famous?”
“Gardner Barnes, of course.”
Harley started the engine and put the truck in gear. “Maybe if I can interest him in a couple of my most expensive pieces I can retire on my own terms.”
“Boring, Harley, boring. You have no sense of adventure. You need someone to retire with you and show you how to have fun.”
Harley thought of the adventure she was taking with Gardner right now. “I don’t know, Mona. I might just surprise you.”
I’ve certainly surprised myself, she thought, driving off with a backward wave.
TEN
AFTER MAKING AN OUT-OF-THE-WAY STOP in Boerne, Harley barely made it to Fredericksburg before dark. She grabbed a quick fast-food dinner, then quietly wandered the yard of the bed-and-breakfast where she was staying. From her vantage point beneath a huge spreading oak, she watched the setting sun color the sky with muted shades of pink and blue.
She breathed deep, wondering what it would be like to live without traffic noises or smog. And then she thought of Gardner, which wasn’t a complete surprise.
Though she’d insisted on not knowing what he did to make a living, he’d let slip the fact that he ran the family business. Did that mean he still lived in the one-horse town he’d grown up in? And, if so, what about the town? Had it changed with the times or was it as small now as it had been then?
Harley walked toward the house. She climbed the first porch step, then stopped. Leaning back against a beam, she closed her eyes and absorbed the unpressured silence. As calming as she found the temporary lack of hustle, she didn’t know if she could live anywhere but the city—not that Gardner had asked her to.
But if she were going to move this relationship forward— which seemed to be the consensus of her senses—she had to be prepared to deal with their differences. For as compatible as they might be in her fantasy, reality lasted a lot longer than dreams.