Tempted by a Texan Page 8

  Friday was the day Becca was due back at the doctor’s office.

  Colby hesitated and glanced over his shoulder at Becca. He saw her stirring.

  He had no qualms about allowing Steven’s daughter, Cassandra, free rein decorating his office. She was classy, had been born and bred into the corporate world. She didn’t have a single frilly gene in her, plus, she had champagne tastes and the finest vintage Cristal pocketbook to go with it.

  He glanced around at the scarred hardwood floors and crammed display shelves, the powder-blue knitted baby blanket lying atop a spindly legged table, a wooden rooster serving as a bookend. Cassandra wouldn’t know what to do with herself in a shop like this. She was into modern furnishings, fine art and expensive gems—not antiques, collectibles or costume jewelry.

  Colby thought about his bulletin board with the lawyer jokes pinned to it. Definitely not going to blend with his new office decor at Wells, Steadman and Flynn.

  As for speeding up his moving date, Colby felt an uncharacteristic reluctance. Odd, because he’d really been looking forward to the change, the challenge.

  “Friday’s a bit soon for me, Steven. I’ve still got a couple of obligations and loose ends here to tie up. Why don’t you go ahead and fax the paperwork? That’ll at least give me a head start.”

  “No problem. Any idea when you’ll be here for good? I know you said you were going to take a bit of a vacation, but this case is a pretty big deal.”

  “I shouldn’t have too much trouble getting up to speed. You having second thoughts about my qualifications, Steven?”

  Wells laughed. “Not a one. To tell the truth, Cassandra’s been hounding me some. Just thought I could give her an update.”

  Colby nodded. “Tell her we’re still pretty much looking at three weeks.”

  “Will do. Take care, son. See you soon.”

  Colby ended the call and stood there for a moment. This kind of high-paying job was exactly what he’d wanted ever since he was a sullen fifteen-year-old in military school.

  He’d gone head-to-fist with just about everyone at school in those first few months, taken some hard knocks, but he’d finally accepted his plight and settled in, and had decided he’d one day make something of himself. He’d have money and a fine house and the most expensive car.

  So, okay, he had those things now. Maybe not the most expensive house and car, but at least they were the ones he’d chosen, the ones he could easily afford.

  He made a very good living in his private practice here in Hope Valley, mostly because many of his clients were from Austin. But he would make a super-wealthy living with Wells and Steadman. And for the kid inside him—the one who’d been made to feel as though he were little better than a stray dog—that was a mighty big draw.

  “Why’d you let me sleep so long?” Becca asked, coming up behind him.

  He turned and smiled at the way her hair stuck up on the side. “You need the rest.”

  “Hmm. You’re sure pillow happy. I didn’t even feel you stuff them around me.”

  “That was Sunny, Tracy and Donetta’s doings.”

  “They were here? Why didn’t you wake me?”

  “Wasn’t on my to-do list.” He winked at her and gave in to the temptation to smooth down the stray lock of hair.

  She immediately lifted her own hand, combed her fingers through her hair and lightly touched the bandage on her forehead.

  “Head hurting?” he asked.

  “A little. Not bad.”

  “It’s about time for your next pill.”

  “Are you trying to keep me drugged?”

  “Guilty as charged. How else am I going to get you to take it easy?”

  Her smile was so natural, so soft and welcoming, that his stomach gave a jolt. His hands fairly itched to draw her to him, to hold that compact body against his, forget about the rest of the world—intruders, jobs in another city, daily life.

  “I see you sold the lace-patterned, rococo pitcher.” She walked over to the shelf to rearrange the tall cup and lace-edged saucer on the tray. “Who bought it?”

  “Norah Conway.”

  “Ah. She’s a good customer. Deep pockets, too. You couldn’t talk her into the whole set?”

  He hadn’t even thought of it. He’d been in the process of shifting all the china stuff to one place, and the woman had walked in and seen him with the pitcher in his hand. She’d snatched it up and bought it on the spot.

  “I don’t think she saw the rest of the set.”

  “What do you mean? The pitcher was sitting right here on the tray.” At that moment, she seemed to come awake like a startled bird. Her green eyes snapped wide and she took a good look around the room.

  Colby waited for her words of praise at how he’d changed things.

  “Oh, my gosh. It wasn’t sitting on the tray. What in the world have you done to my store?”

  “Like it?”

  “Like...? Darn it, Colby, you’ve got all the china shoved together. And...and my candles! Criminy. Did you use a ruler to get them that straight?”

  His back teeth ground together. Becca Sue could get his goat quicker than anyone he knew. “Of course I didn’t use a ruler. But you have to agree this is a much better setup. I mean, how can your customers find anything if you have it strewn all over the store without a single theme?”

  “That’s the point. You draw them down the aisles where they can be delighted with each new treasure they come upon. If someone comes in looking for a book, they’re not going to browse the china aisle, they’ll go where the books are. If there’s a tea set among the volumes of poetry, then perhaps they’ll remember a gift they intended to buy for a family member—or even for themselves. It’s called creative marketing. And I’m very good at it.”

  He folded his arms across his chest. That sort of reasoning didn’t make sense to his orderly mind. Granted, this wasn’t his shop, but he’d made a personal commitment to be here for the next little while.

  Clearly, one of them was going to have to learn to bend a bit more. And in his opinion, that someone ought to be Becca.

  7

  The next morning, Becca looked out the front store window and saw Tracy Lynn’s car parked at the curb. Since her friend wasn’t in her shop, she figured it was hair day, and she’d be at Donetta’s.

  And that’s exactly what Becca needed. A hair day.

  She actually shuddered at the thought of leaving Colby alone in her shop, but she only intended to be gone long enough for a shampoo and blow dry. How much damage could he do in that amount of time?

  Plenty, an inner demon taunted.

  She hadn’t had the energy to reposition her merchandise. He’d reorganized her coffee and flavored syrups, as well as her shop items, but she could live with that change. That was housekeeping, not merchandising.

  Darn it, he was trying. Skeeter had stopped by yesterday as promised and taken a more detailed report, then helped Colby install new locks on both the front and back doors.

  Now she had dead bolts guarding her store, and Colby Flynn guarding her person.

  Lord have mercy!

  Sighing, she walked the two doors down to Donetta’s Secret and pushed through the door. The salon was decorated in a trendy style to match its owner’s personality—leopard-print carpet, lipstick-red walls, sparkling mirrors and gleaming Sputnik light fixtures. It wasn’t a large salon, just four workstations, the same number of hair-dryer chairs and two shampoo bowls. Donetta usually worked two chairs at a time, and the other two were invariably occupied by friends just visiting, as Tracy Lynn was now.

  Tracy jumped up the minute Becca pushed through the door.

  “Becca! What are you doing walking around? Sit, for heaven’s sake.”

  “Don’t you dare coddle me. I’ve had it up to here with that.” She made a slicing motion at her throat with her good hand.

  “You’re such a brat,” Tracy Lynn said lovingly. “You never want to accept anyone’s help.”

&nbs
p; “Well, I’m about to ruin your opinion of me because that’s exactly what I need. I feel so darn helpless and ridiculous. I can manage to take a bath, but I can’t wash my hair.”

  Donetta laughed. “Well, then, you’ve come to the right place.”

  “Absolutely,” Tracy Lynn said. “In fact, I’ll wash it for you while Netta finishes up with Anna.”

  Anna—Donetta’s mother-in-law—reached out a hand for Becca’s. “I can’t believe you had a break-in. You poor love. Is there anything I can do?”

  “Anna, you’ve done plenty by stocking my refrigerator with delicious meals.” Anna’s Café had been the hangout spot for Becca, Sunny, Donetta and Tracy Lynn most of their lives. Of course, until just a year ago, it had been named Wanda’s. But Anna had bought it and though the decor had changed—for the better—it was still the hub of the town.

  That was one of the things Becca loved so much about Hope Valley. Between Anna’s Café, Donetta’s Secret and Becca’s Attic, Main Street was the gathering spot. One could invariably find a friend or loved one just by driving down the street and glancing through the storefront windows. Theirs was a close-knit community that was more like a family.

  And that thought made her wonder again who would have broken into her shop. And attacked her.

  “Thank you for the sandwiches and casserole you brought by yesterday,” Becca said to Anna. “I’d have called, but I was a little out of it. The day was a blur.”

  “You’re very welcome, hon. I’m just so upset that this happened to you. We simply don’t have this sort of thing going on in Hope Valley. You can be sure I’ll be keeping a close eye on any out-of-town customers. And eavesdropping, as well. We need to get to the bottom of this.”

  “Thanks, Anna. Hopefully Storm’s fingerprint computers will turn up something. Meanwhile, Colby’s determined to play bodyguard. He thinks he scared the intruder off, and evidently the heroic deed has gone to his head. He’s doing everything short of flexing his muscles.”

  The girls and Anna laughed. “I must say, I was pleased to see that Colby had things well under control when I stopped by.”

  “Ha. That’s a matter of opinion.” Becca squeezed Anna’s hand, then followed Tracy Lynn over to the shampoo bowl and sat. “Where are the babies?”

  “In the back sleeping,” Tracy said.

  Becca should have figured as much. Donetta tried to keep the babies away from the chemical smells of hair dye and perm solution as much as possible. She’d even put a portable air purifier unit in the back room to insure that Amanda’s and Chelsa’s little lungs didn’t absorb anything harsh.

  Becca thought it was neat that her friends’ children would all grow up so close in age. Would they form a bond as their mothers had? Become the Texas Sweethearts II? Donetta’s daughter was only four months older than Tracy Lynn’s baby. Although Tracy Lynn had miscarried with her first pregnancy, she and her husband, Linc, hadn’t wasted any time and she’d soon been pregnant again. Then Sunny and Jack had announced their good news. At one point, three of the Texas Sweethearts had been pregnant at the same time—albeit, Sunny in the very early stages.

  Becca had been the only one of the group not experiencing morning sickness, stretch marks, swollen ankles, maternity clothes...and the sheer glow of happiness at the miracle of a baby growing in her womb.

  Stifling her envy had been no easy feat. But she’d managed.

  Just then, Sunny Slade, looking as though she was ready to have her baby any minute now, walked in with her seven-year-old daughter, Tori.

  “Grandma!” Tori called, skipping over to Anna.

  Sunny headed straight for Becca as Tracy Lynn helped her lean her head back against the shiny black shampoo bowl.

  Donetta grinned. “Hmm, this ought to be interesting. The last time Tracy Lynn and Sunny were next to the same shampoo bowl, there was a water fight.”

  Tracy Lynn sniffed. “I’m sure we’ve matured since then. We are, after all, mothers.”

  “I was a mother then,” Sunny pointed out—although not officially at the time. Tori was Jackson Slade’s daughter from a previous marriage, and Sunny had adopted her after she and Jack had married. “However, I know enough not to chance getting Becca’s bandage and stitches wet. How are you?” she asked, her distended stomach nearly brushing Becca’s face.

  “Fine except for the humiliation of having to ask for help to bathe, dress and wash my hair.”

  “Bathing and dressing?” Sunny asked. Both she and Tracy Lynn looked at each other, then over at Donetta, who had an application squeeze bottle suspended in midair. Anna, wiping her forehead with a towel so the hair dye wouldn't drip into her eyes, had turned in the chair. Cora Harriet—Sunny and Jack’s housekeeper, who was sitting under the hair dryer—raised the heat hood and cocked an ear.

  Criminy, Becca thought. She should have known better than to open her mouth without guarding her words. After all, the whole darn town knew that Colby Flynn was staying with her.

  “It’s all perfectly platonic,’’ she said. Not. “So, get your minds out of the gutter.”

  “My mind wasn’t anywhere near the gutter,” Tracy Lynn drawled, testing the temperature of the water and applying the spray hose to Becca’s hair. “Was y’alls?” she asked Sunny and the room at large.

  Donetta, Anna and Cora uttered a chorus of “nos.”

  Sunny fluffed her naturally curly, blond hair. “Actually, mine was. I want to hear about the bathing and dressing.”

  Becca turned her head to glare at her friend and got an earful of water.

  “Would you be still!” Tracy demanded. “I’m trying not to get these stitches wet. Lordy!” She glanced at Sunny. “Baby hormones?” she asked compassionately.

  “Yes. I feel like a huge cow and can’t imagine anything remotely sexy about getting help with my toiletries. So I’m trying to live vicariously through my friends.”

  “Oh, for goodness sake, Sunny,” Becca said. “Your husband is totally sappy when it comes to your Madonna-like form. He thinks you’re the sexiest thing on the planet!” Good thing Tori was in the back hovering over the babies.

  “All right, girls,” Anna said, clearing her throat. “Too much information.”

  They all looked at Anna and laughed. She might be Sunny’s mother, but she’d been the confidante of all four of the Texas Sweethearts at one time or another.

  Sunny grabbed a towel and helpfully shielded Becca’s forehead and stitches from the water. The tail of the towel draped over Becca’s eyes so she couldn’t see the expression on anyone’s face. Just as well.

  “So,” Tracy Lynn said, “want to fill us in on your nursemaid and his helpfulness?”

  “I can hold my hands over Anna’s ears,” Donetta volunteered.

  “Don’t you dare,” Anna said. “I don’t mind hearing the down and dirty of what goes on in Becca Sue’s household. It’s just my daughter that I’m a little skittish about. Besides, Cora’s not going to put that hair dryer back over her head until she’s sure she won’t miss anything, and I’m not going to be left out of the loop.”

  Becca sighed and melted into the bowl as Tracy Lynn massaged shampoo into her hair and scalp. She hadn’t realized how tense she’d been these past couple of days.

  “There’s nothing to miss,” she said. “Colby’s got his office phone forwarding calls to his cell and he’s doing business from my shop while he helps out with the customers. And yes, he’s had to assist in putting plastic over this brace, but I assure you I’m perfectly capable of bathing on my own. Happy now?” she asked, moving the towel out of her face so she could strain her gaze around the room.

  “We were happy before,” Donetta commented easily. “It’s just that we’re happier when someone’s sharing. Right, girls?”

  “Right,” everyone in the room chorused—except Becca, of course.

  Tracy Lynn finger-combed conditioner through the strands of wet hair, then rinsed it out. The tropical scent of the products wafting up from the bowl nea
rly transported Becca to a dreamy Hawaiian island.

  When Tracy shut off the water, Sunny blotted moisture from Becca’s forehead, careful of the stitches, and wrapped the terry cloth towel around her head, helping her sit up.

  “Thanks, you two. That felt wonderful.”

  “Anytime. What are friends for if not to wash your hair for you?”

  For some stupid reason, a lump of emotion rose in Becca’s throat. She was blessed with such good friends. She couldn’t imagine being without them, or living anywhere else except for right here in Hope Valley. These people were her family, wonderful replacements for her real family, who were all gone.

  “Colby’s got a job offer in Dallas,” she blurted. “He’s supposed to leave in three weeks.”

  Tracy Lynn and Sunny stared, wide-eyed. Donetta and Anna looked sad. Cora had lowered her hair dryer hood, but now had it up again.

  “I ran into Darla Pam over at Hansen’s the other day,” Becca went on, “and she was spouting off some gossip about Colby leaving. I thought she was just trying to get a rise out of me, and I tuned her out. I mean, Colby and I haven’t been close in a long time, but why would he keep something like that from me? Why would he let it become the center of the gossip mill before I’d heard it? That’s what I was thinking. Guess I placed a little more importance on my role in his life—or past role—than was actually there. Now, aren’t you all feeling silly that you were trying to read so much importance into his helping me out?”

  “I don’t feel a damn bit silly,” Donetta said. “I saw how he looked at you the other night. He was scared to death and worried out of his mind. I’d say you still play a big role in his life.”

  Becca shook her head. “He’s accepted a partnership at a firm in Dallas. And I’m happy for him. It’s no big deal. What we had was over seven years ago.”

  “You sure about that?” Tracy Lynn asked.

  “Of course I’m sure. We can hardly be civil for more than a day. My God, did you know that he threw out Maizy?”