Tempted by a Texan Read online

  “Um.. .forget I just said that,” she stammered.

  He shook his head, exhaled a weary sigh.

  “That's like telling me to ignore an elephant in the middle of the room.”

  No truer words had ever been spoken, Becca thought. But right now she’d much rather be discussing pachyderms than pregnancy.

  She cleared her throat and brought her mind back to knitting. “Now, you need to hold the needle in your left hand—”

  “I’m right-handed.”

  “That’s fine. I’m left-handed, but I knit right-handed—”

  “A switch hitter, hum?”

  “I suppose. Grandma Lee was right-handed, and she taught me to knit her way.” She pointed to the yarn in his hands. “You pulled the stitches off the left needle, so you’ve got to thread it back through so that this tail of yarn I’m holding ends up at the top.”

  “Great. I have a feeling this is going to be about as easy as teaching a mermaid to do the splits.”

  She chuckled. “Just take it slow. Slide it in nice and gentle...that’s the way,” she coached as he threaded the needle through a loop.

  He shifted in the chair, tried to put a little more space between them. By God, he was beginning to sweat.

  “I think I can handle it without the commentary.” He hooked the next loop.

  “No, clearly you can’t. You just entered that one—”

  “Damn it!” he exclaimed. “Are these really knitting terms? ‘Take it slow,”’ he mimicked. “‘Slide it in nice and gentle.’”

  He saw Becca’s cheeks flame. Good. He didn’t want to be the only one squirming in his chair.

  “Actually, I was trying not to talk in knitting terms so you’d understand better.”

  “Yeah, well. I’m smarter than I look, so give me a quick seminar in the terminology. You don’t have enough of this sweater knitted to use as a cover in case a customer comes in.”

  Her gaze dipped to his crotch.

  “Yes, I’m aroused,” he said. “You’re sexy as all get out, you smell good enough to eat and I damned well wasn’t the only one who was thinking about kissing a couple of minutes ago. Then next thing I know, you’re purring in my ear as though we’re having phone sex.”

  She jumped up off the edge of the chair and paced around the counter. He saw her chest rise as she drew in a deep breath.

  Hell, this little episode wasn’t even half of the problem. Every morning, he walked out of her bedroom stiff as a board. Did she think it was easy to hook her bra, then pretend his thoughts were as innocent as a Boy Scout’s?

  After a couple of minutes, she came back around the counter and sat down again on the edge of the chair.

  “Okay. There are two types of knitting stitches. A knit stitch and a purl stitch. I’ve used both in this piece. The purl stitch has a little nub—”

  “Becca,” he warned between clenched teeth. God almighty, he couldn’t get his mind off sex.

  She whacked him on the shoulder.

  “Hey. What was that for?”

  “To jolt your brain out of its one-track groove.”

  “I saw you over there gathering your composure. You’re just as turned-on as I am.”

  “Maybe so. But I’m not going to do anything about it—except make sure you get my stitches back on that knitting needle correctly. Now, the purl stitch has a round knot facing you. Think of it as a noose around somebody’s neck—yours, with me doing the tightening if you mess this up. The knit stitch looks like a flat V—picture a scarf folded one side over the other.”

  “Right over left, or left over right?”

  “I don’t know! Either way. It looks like a flat V. Do you see either of those images?”

  He looked close. “Yeah. I see it. The purl looks more like a knot on a man’s tie than a hangman’s noose.”

  “Clearly, you’re a calmer knitter than I am. Now, you need to make sure you get all these stitches back on the needle going the same direction.” She guided his hand with hers, showing him what she meant.

  It was slow going, and using his left hand was about as awkward as holding a handful of frogs, but he was getting the hang of it. “Thank God Tracy Lynn’s small,” he muttered. “If this was a blanket, it’d take all week—”

  “Oops,” she mumbled when he hooked a stitch back to front.

  He whipped his head around and glared at her. “I see it.” He backed the knitting needle out and hooked the stitch the correct way.

  He was two stitches from the end when Lincoln Slade poked his head in the door.

  “I’m trying to track down my wife and baby girl,” he said. “You seen two beautiful blondes come by this way?”

  Colby snapped his knees closed and kept his hands between them, hoping to hide the yarn. He saw Becca smile sweetly at Linc. The man was a tough-guy horse breeder and all-around softie when it came to his socialite wife and tiny baby.

  “It’s Wednesday,” Becca said. “She’s usually over at the senior center painting fingernails or something.”

  “Yeah, I know, but she said she might stop by here first and see if you needed help.”

  “She did, but Colby sent her on her way.”

  Linc grinned at Colby. “You plannin’ on joinin’ the stitch-and-gripe group, pal?”

  Colby shot Linc a look that had the other man laughing and holding up his hands in surrender. “Right. Catch you two later.” Linc backed out the door, still chuckling.

  “I don’t know why you had to look at him in that tone of voice,” Becca said. “Men knit and crochet just like women do.”

  Colby hooked the last two stitches, then shoved the whole mess way down on the needles so they wouldn’t slide off again. Then he folded the knitted yarn around the needles for added protection and placed it in her knitting bag.

  “Back to square one on padding the sling,” he said, looking around the shop and ignoring her comment about men knitting. Truthfully, it probably wouldn’t be such a bad hobby if the whole stereotypical thing wasn’t involved. He could see how the rhythm of moving stitches from one needle to the next might be a good exercise for stress relief. Unless, of course, some yahoo dumped the needle out of the loops.

  In any case, he’d just as soon work out his stress on a basketball court or with a three-mile run.

  Before he could locate a suitable cushion for Becca’s sling, he spied Trouble on the floor, batting around something shiny. He retrieved the silver clip and looked around the shop for a jar or bin that she might keep such an item in. He didn’t see anything that gave him a clue, but then again, what did he expect? Becca had a weird shelving system.

  “Where’s this go?” he asked, holding up the clip. He saw that she was fixing to pour a cup of coffee, and he moved over next to her, took the carafe out of her hand and did it for her, stirring in a splash of cream.

  “I’m not helpless, but thank you. Where does what go?”

  “This clip. Trouble was playing with it on the floor.”

  Becca sighed and gave the cat a stern look. “Oh, Trouble. Why can’t you bring me mice or lizards like a normal cat?”

  Colby raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to elaborate.

  “My cat is a thief. He steals from the neighbors. That clip obviously came from Donetta’s salon.” She took the clip and put it in a bowl by the cash register. “It’s embarrassing to have to go around returning things this little menace has stolen. Once he brought me a fifty-dollar bill. Snatched it right out of Darla Pam Kirkwell’s purse.”

  “How’d you know it was Darla Pam’s?”

  “I just listened for who was yelling the loudest. I guess she went to pay Donetta for her hairdo and came up short of money. I was pacing the sidewalk, trying to find a tactful way of asking the neighbors if they were missing fifty bucks, and heard the commotion. To this day, I don’t think Darla Pam believes me that Trouble took the money.”

  She retrieved a piece of thin foam rubber from behind the counter and passed it to him, along with a pai
r of scissors. “I use this when I’m shipping fragile merchandise. You can cut a piece and see if it’ll cushion the sling at my neck.”

  “Guess I should have thought of this in the first place before I nearly ruined Tracy Lynn’s sweater.”

  “Oh, you didn’t come close to ruining it. I’d have fixed it when my hand got better. I can’t do anything with it until the splint comes off, anyway.”

  He put his hands on his hips, scissors in one hand, the foam in the other. “If it was no big deal, how come you squawked like I’d plucked your prize rooster?”

  She laughed at him. “That was a perfectly natural reaction. I thought about the dollar signs first and logic second.” She shrugged. “Besides, I wanted to see if you could—or would—try to make it right.”

  “Well, did I pass the test?”

  “With flying colors. You know, knitting circles can be a lot of fun. Think of all the gossip you’d get to hear.”

  “Don’t even go there, sugar pie. As it is, I’ll probably have to chew some nails or eat a lightbulb next time I see Linc—just so he won’t be looking at me funny.”

  “Colby Flynn, even a fool wouldn’t question your masculinity. Knitting needles or not.”

  “Mmm. Compliments from Becca Sue. I like that.” He puffed out his chest. “I’m feeling better already.”

  “Yes, well, my neck isn’t. So if you want me to keep this darn sling on, you’d better get over here with that foam.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Right away.” Any excuse to touch Becca Sue’s soft skin. He didn’t have to be asked twice.

  They had a steady stream of customers most of the day, and Becca was feeling a little wilted. Colby noticed.

  He moved up next to her, bent his knees and looked her in the eye. “Ready to call it a day?”

  “Yes. I think I am.”

  “Man, you must be feeling poorly. I never thought you’d agree to closing the shop early.”

  “Twenty minutes isn’t much.”

  He gently pressed his lips to the bandage over her forehead, startling her.

  “Colby...?

  “A kiss to make it better.” He turned and headed for the front door, evidently to lock it and flip over the Closed sign.

  She swallowed hard. Why did he have to do things like that? Sure, under other circumstances, that gentle press of lips could be considered just a friendly sort of gesture. But living with Colby 24/7 was making it very clear that she had more than friendly feelings for him.

  And when he did things like this, it just messed with her emotions all the more. But if she made a big deal out of it, she’d give herself away.

  Criminy, this trying-to-be-sophisticated stuff was difficult.

  Ever since Colby had told her about Cassandra, Becca had been acutely aware of her own behavior, and tried to make sure that she acted and reacted in a manner that would be considered sophisticated. She didn’t always succeed. Most of the time, she totally forgot and just acted like herself.

  Which wasn’t a bad thing. She owned her own business, for crying out loud. No country bumpkin there. Ms. Not-yet-an-attorney Cassandra Wells couldn’t claim the right of being her own boss. So, neener, neener.

  Becca gave a mental groan. Now that had been a real mature, sophisticated thought!

  Darn it. Why in the world was she questioning herself? If the man would just keep his lips and his sexy hands and voice to himself, they’d get along fine. Her hand would heal and he could be on his way. But no, he had to comment on the way she smelled, or compliment the way she looked, or let his hands linger just a tad longer than necessary when he was hooking her bra.

  By dog, she was going to stop wearing the thing, see-through top or not. She’d put on a sweater and turn up the air-conditioning.

  Caught up in her thoughts, it was a moment before she became aware of Sunny’s voice from the front door. Becca sighed. Looked like they wouldn’t be closing early, after all.

  “Girl, you are really waddling these days,” Becca teased her friend. She noticed that Colby had taken the purse-like carrier out of Sunny’s hands. A gentlemanly thing to do. With her stomach stretching the seams of her maternity top, it appeared that even carrying a small purse was too great of a burden.

  “Thank you so much for pointing that out, Becca Sue. Just you wait. One of these days you’ll be in this position and I’ll be happy to pick on you.”

  Her heart felt another momentary sting. She’d give just about anything to be in Sunny’s condition.

  “So what’s in the carrier?” she asked, masking her emotions.

  A high-pitched bark sounded in answer. Colby set the carrier down on the countertop. Sunny unzipped the mesh flap, reached inside and drew out the most pitiful-looking dog Becca had ever seen. The hair on its body was totally shaved, except for a little white tuft on its tail and some wisps of white on its feet. The hair on its face was short, white around the nose, black on the ears, and black around the eyes like a bandit. Sticking straight up along the center of its head was a white stripe of hair like a skunk’s.

  “Meet Tinky-Winky,” Sunny said, passing the little dog to Colby’s arms.

  Colby looked utterly confused and unsure as he accepted the dog. Well, he couldn’t have done anything else. Sunny didn’t give him a choice.

  “Tinky-Winky?” His tone bordered on disgust. “What kind of name is that for a dog?”

  Sunny shrugged. “It was on his collar. Somebody abandoned him out on the highway by our ranch. His hair was matted beyond grooming, so I had to shave him. Plus, he has a skin allergy. I’ve been treating him for that, plus malnutrition and dehydration.”

  “What breed of dog is he?” Becca asked, moving next to Colby so she could stroke the little pup. Its shaved body resembled the smooth skin of a baby seal. “Oh, sweetheart, don’t shake,” she crooned, kissing its floppy ear.

  “Hard to say exactly,” Sunny said. “There’s quite a bit of Yorkie in him—Yorkshire terrier,” she clarified, “maybe mixed with Chihuahua and probably some toy poodle.”

  “How big will he get?”

  “Oh, he’s full grown. I’d guess he’s around two years old.” Sunny turned to Colby. “Becca told me that you lost Bosco. I’m so sorry, Colby.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Anyway, I’ve nursed this little guy back to health and it’s time he found a home. He needs a place where there aren’t big dogs around that’ll step on him. I thought maybe since Bosco’s gone—”

  “Oh, no. Wait a minute. I’ve got no time for a dog. I’m smack-dab in the middle of moving... hell, I’m not even staying at my own place.” The little dog gave a soft whimper and laid its head on Colby’s shoulder.

  “Aw,” Becca and Sunny chorused.

  Colby nearly melted. He’d be damned if he would let Becca or Sunny know that, though. The animal’s warm body was so small his hand practically wrapped around its belly and back. The thing probably didn’t weigh more than five pounds. It was still trembling, and huddling into his neck. He wasn’t sure how this creature could even claim to be a dog, it was so pitiful.

  “Listen, Colby. You don’t have to give me an answer right now. Just keep Tinky for a few days and see how it goes.”

  “I’ve got my hands pretty full with Becca.”

  Becca glared at him. “Surely you’re not lumping me in the same category as a dog!”

  He backtracked quickly. “Hey, I didn’t say anything of the kind.”

  “He’s a good little dog, Colby,” Sunny said. “Once he gets used to you, he’ll stop shaking and be more friendly.”

  “He’s pretty friendly already.” The mutt still had his head cuddled in the crook of Colby’s neck.

  “I really can’t take him home,” Sunny said. “And I can’t keep him locked up at the office all the time. It’s not fair. No telling what kind of trauma the poor thing went through, or why someone would just dump him on the road like that, but he’s well now and he needs to have more freedom—and a loving home. I know he looks
kind of sad right now, but I promise he’ll be a real cutie when his hair grows back. I’ve brought kibble, so you won’t have to rush right out and buy food. He seems to be fairly well housebroken, and if you get tied up and can’t take him outside often enough, he’ll use one of these indoor pads if you show him where it is.” She held up a square of plastic backed cotton.

  “He can stay here,” Becca said, completely overriding Colby. She reached for the dog, and he passed it right over. “Oh, you’re such a love.” She cradled the little dog, shifting it to her shoulder.

  Because she was off balance with only one usable hand, Colby put his own hand under Tinky’s butt and helped her situate him. Tinky rested his chin on Becca’s shoulder, but kept his dark eyes trained on Colby.

  Great.

  “I think you’ve found a friend,” Becca said to him.

  Colby made a noncommittal noise deep in his throat.

  “Thanks, guys,” Sunny said. “I feel so much better knowing Tinky-Winky won’t be locked up in that cage tonight.”

  When she left, Colby stared at the pitiful excuse for a dog. “The person who saddled this scrawny mutt with that god-awful name ought to be shot.”

  “It’s pretty bad, huh? We can just call him Tinky.”

  “Poor sucker.” He reached out and scratched Tinky’s ears. “What do you think, Tink? Want to meet the big bad cat tonight, or wait till you’ve got the lay of the land better?”

  “Oh, I completely forgot about Trouble. We better take this introduction slow. I don’t want to traumatize Tinky any more than he’s already been.”

  “Now, don’t be making him into a sissy. I imagine he can hold his own.” He took the dog from her. “Why don’t you head on upstairs and see if the klepto cat’s up there before we bring in the dog.”

  “Okay. Do you think I should put Trouble in the bathroom or something?”

  “Probably not. We just want to know where all parties are so there are no surprises. They need to be introduced.”

  She nodded and headed up the stairs.

  When she’d closed the door at the top of the stairwell, Colby set the dog on the floor.

  It immediately squatted and peed.

  “Hey, now, buddy. What’s up with that?” He snatched up some paper towels and pointed his finger at the tiny mutt. “You’re two years old, but in dog years, that makes you about sixteen. Teenage boys don’t pee on the floor.” He stooped down to mop up the mess. Tink sat and watched him.