He recognized he was being teased and wasn’t sure what to think about it. The woman’s voice was giving him a strange buzz, almost as if she were blowing kisses into his ear.
“Normally, billing would begin in the morning, at eight o’clock. However, we feel it’s important that your assistant finds you to her liking, as well. You understand.”
There was that subtle laughter in her voice again. Fannin turned to face the kitchen wall so that his brothers couldn’t read his expression. “It’s business, not pleasure,” he stated, lying through his teeth but not wanting to seem like a man who needed to call up for a private companion. Damn, but this was getting complicated. He’d have to find her some typing to do.
Why did I let my brothers goad me into dialing up a date?
“Goodbye,” the voice said, and the line went dead.
“Oh crap!” Fannin said to himself. “I forgot all about my date tonight!”
“You have a date?” Last asked quickly.
“The Helga date. Remember? I promised to take her into Dallas.” Rattled by getting a callback from the agency so quickly, he’d forgotten about Helga. “What plans do you have tonight?” he asked his brothers.
They shifted uncomfortably.
“You know, since you’re plotting to get rid of her, this ought to make you feel better,” Fannin said. “Be nice to her before you boot her.”
“You don’t like her, either,” Last said.
“No,” Fannin agreed. “I don’t think that’s a reason to plot her unemployment, though.” He sighed. “However, I’m putting my vote in with this plan just because I do think she’d be happier taking care of a baby, the sheriff and Mimi than you ungrateful lot. Who’s going to tell Mason what you’re up to?”
Archer stood. “You are?”
“Me? Why would I? I didn’t hatch this scheme.” He wasn’t going to have any part of telling Mason that the one person who made him happy was going to have to find new digs next door.
Crockett kicked back in the chair, balancing it on its legs. “If you want us to take Helga out tonight so that you can go wherever it is you’re going, we think it’s only fair you talk to Mason.”
They had a point, even if it was blackmail. Fannin pursed his lips. The lady on the phone had sounded so sexy. Of course, that wasn’t his date, but if his date was anything like the bearer of that voice…his ears would be the happiest part of his body.
At least until he could talk her out of her clothes.
“Deal,” he said reluctantly. “You butt-heads.”
The brothers slapped each other’s hands while Fannin looked on sourly.
“Freedom, here we come!” Navarro yelled.
“Ding-dong, the witch is dead!” Bandera howled.
Annoyed, Fannin left the room, comforting himself with the thought that he’d soon be at Lampy’s Bar meeting his dream date. Picked just for him, by the sexy-sounding secretary.
He just wished he didn’t feel like such a Judas.
Chapter Two
If Kelly felt any remorse over deceiving Fannin Jefferson, it dissipated immediately when she saw the tall, lanky cowboy lounging against a lamppost outside Lampy’s Bar. “Mr. Jefferson?”
He nodded, straightening to his full height, which Kelly was gratified to note was taller than her full height. She was no small, delicate thing, standing nearly six feet without the small, stacked heels on the winter boots she was wearing. “I’m Kelly Stone,” she said. “Your personal assistant.”
She saw hesitation in his gaze—then realized that hesitation had turned to something else as he took her hand.
“Hello,” he said, his voice deep and stirring. “Thanks for coming all the way out here.”
Oh, she didn’t want to be attracted to him. But his hand warmed her chilled fingers and his voice settled her nerves. This big man carried security in every inch of his frame, and she responded to it like a lost calf.
“I’m not the petite, cheery blonde you ordered. That was what you requested, wasn’t it?” Kelly asked, her words speeding as he let go of her hand.
A grin spread across his face. “No. You’re not what I ordered. But I don’t think I knew what I wanted.”
She stared at him. He was tall, dark, handsome. So cliché. Candy for females. Dark hair settled around his chin. Didn’t the man believe in haircuts? She couldn’t see whether he had a bald spot hiding under his hat, but she doubted it. The man had too much confidence to be hiding any flaws. His chin was firm and strong, his lips full and sensual. She liked his lips best, if she ignored that his chest was as wide as Ohio. His eyes were shaded enough by the hat so that he looked mysterious. Marlboro man come to life, except he stood in the misty night as if he’d never seen a woman as beautiful as she.
Everything her mother had said about the wild Jefferson boys reverberated in her ears. Yet her body was responding in the strangest way to this man. Didn’t mother always know best? Helga wouldn’t want her daughter getting a crush on a Jefferson male. She would warn Kelly that nothing good could come of it. “I suppose you’re perfectly horrid,” Kelly said, “or else you wouldn’t have to order a personal companion. There must be lots of ladies in this town who would be willing to ‘work’ for you.”
He winked at her. “Yeah.”
“Yeah what? You’re horrid or lots of ladies applied for the job? When do you fill me in on my supposed duties?”
He laughed, taking her arm. “Come on. You look cold.”
A small bark reminded Kelly of her manners. “I’m sorry,” she told the cowboy. “This is Joy.” She took the small red poodle out of her bag, holding Joy up so that Fannin could see her. “Do you think Mr. Lampy will mind a dog in his bar?”
Fannin took Joy from her, slipping the tiny dog inside his jacket. “Now he won’t.”
Kelly hesitated, shocked that Joy had gone so willingly. Her spoiled and opinionated baby didn’t like anyone. Even more surprising, the cowboy wasn’t irritated that she’d brought a pet. Suddenly she felt guilty that she hadn’t been honest with him about who she was. She should tell him. Certainly this brother couldn’t have been disrespectful of her mother’s feelings.
Then again, Helga had said the Jeffersons were an extraordinarily charming lot.
That didn’t change the reality, either, that as soon as Fannin found out she was Helga’s daughter, the pumpkin coach was going to leave the curb. But Fannin was staring at her like she was something special, someone attractive and meaningful whose company he was enjoying. And that wasn’t a feeling a six-foot redhead usually got from a man.
Dishonesty was going to have to work for just a while longer. A little more starry glow—before she had to put away the fairy-tale props.
“Everything all right?” Fannin asked. “You look like something’s not good.”
“Everything is good,” Kelly replied quietly.
Too good.
FANNIN WAS HAVING a hard time not staring at the statuesque redhead as she tossed a dart with strength and accuracy toward the wall target. “There you go,” he said. “You can’t do any better than that.”
She sipped her wine and nodded. “Pretty good for never having thrown darts before.”
“How old are you?” Fannin asked. He had to know. She seemed so fresh and young and cheerful.
“Thirty.