He was a rogue and a daredevil, she realized. Perhaps a bit crazy.
Everything she did not need in her life.
“We’re late,” she told the cowboy. “I hope to never see you again.”
He looked hurt. She shook her head, turning to walk away. The kids peered over their shoulders at him.
“Oh, he looks like a puppy,” Amelia observed. “Poor cowboy.”
Poppy sighed.
“Why don’t you like him, Aunt Poppy?” Curtis asked.
“I have to be very careful,” she said, specifically thinking about rogues and daredevils who made a woman do stupid things…bedroom things.
Last was a delicious specimen of male. No illusion of magic was required to make him more visually desirable than he was.
“Malfunction Junction sounds like fun,” Amelia said.
“What we don’t need is another circus in our lives,” Poppy said firmly. “And that’s exactly what it sounds like to me.” After another moment of brisk walking, she asked quietly, “Is he still following?”
“No,” Curtis said. “He turned around and walked away a few minutes ago.”
“After waving goodbye,” Amelia said. “You know how you always tell us not to talk to strangers?”
“Yes,” Poppy said. “And now you see why.”
There was no reply for a second.
“Well,” Curtis said, “at least I finally met a real John Wayne.”
“We don’t know that,” Poppy stated. “He wasn’t wearing a hat or boots.”
“I know that,” Curtis said. “A real cowboy doesn’t need his hat to be real.”
“When the lion tamer offered to marry you, you said he was too wild,” Amelia pointed out. “When the ringmaster offered, you said his hat was too tall and you weren’t sure what was under there. The cowboy only offered us his ranch, and he won’t even be there. Wouldn’t that mean we can trust him?”
“I don’t know,” Poppy said with determination. “And I love you two too much to find out.”
“Do you like any man, Aunt Poppy?” Curtis asked.
“Yes. I like you. Now forget about the cowboy, children, and let’s think about tonight’s performance.”
But she knew why he stayed on their minds. Brave, daring, somehow vulnerable—he was a very appealing character to two young children who were growing up needing a fairy-tale hero. And to the woman learning to be their mother.
LAST JEFFERSON KNEW when he’d been given the winter-frozen shoulder. No meant no, and that little lady had just handed him a very firm no.
Too bad. The kids had been cute. Whistling, he went to pick up his hang-glider, trying to decide if he had enough daylight left for another go at his technique.
Or he could go attend this “show” the children had mentioned. Tickets were public, weren’t they? And he could just look up the location on the Internet. Poppy would never know. He wouldn’t mind seeing a bit of this “magic” hocus-pocus they’d talked about.
Then again, why did he care? He’d gotten himself in enough trouble once, a long time ago, by drinking a bottle of a supposedly mystical potion. “Surely I’ve learned from my mistakes. Mystical things are bad for me.”
He should know better. He didn’t need a woman, no matter how alluring. His daughter didn’t need one more person introduced into her life in a parental role; right now assimilating her new family of Crockett and Valentine would be challenge enough.
He needed to think with his mind and not his heart—or that more traitorous region of his body.
More time in the air hanging from something should clear his mind.
And yet, he would love to make Esme change that formal, snippy tone she’d used when she’d said, “Mr. Jefferson,” to a gasping, grateful, Oh, Mr. Jefferson!
He couldn’t afford to indulge the fantasy.
“One more go?” asked the hang-glider attendant.
“I think not,” Last said. “Thanks, though.”
After changing into jeans and a shirt, he got into his truck. Two weeks driving the scenic route in north California, then heading to Africa for bungee jumping had felt like the right decision when he’d left Texas. The trip had been the perfect excuse for giving his brother and his new wife some family time.
No one knew, but it was really hard on Last to think about the new little family, no matter how much he loved Crockett. He wanted to be Annette’s only father, even if he knew that wasn’t possible. Damn lucky he was that her stepfather would be Crockett.
Still, it stung. His lips drew into a tight line, his gaze catching sight of brightly colored red tents as he drove only a few miles up the road. The tents could signify only one thing: the circus was in town and very near. He’d bet this was Esme’s gig.
He couldn’t resist.
In fact, he wouldn’t even try, he decided, parking his truck on the grounds and buying a ticket. Sneaking into the big top, he noted that his seat was far up and away from where Poppy or the children might spy him. The elderly gentleman seated beside him seemed harmless and likely to mind his own business, so Last was satisfied.
Checking his ticket stub, he realized he had about an hour to wait. He began dozing under his hat, somewhat bored by the lack of bulls and bucking broncs.
“The hottest magician on planet Earth,” he heard the announcer yell, making him sit straight up. “Poppy Peabody!”
Last’s jaw dropped as Esme rode into the arena on the back of a white pony, wearing a bikini-type garment so sexy he could only call it delightful.
No wonder the judge was having a bit of trouble seeing Poppy as a role model and a good guardian. Last grinned. The elderly gentleman next to him looked as though he’d never seen a showgirl of any kind and might have a coronary.
Esme was adorable, with black strands of cloth hanging from the bikini bottom and a feathery black sequined headdress pluming from her long ebony hair. Something jumped in his jeans, and Last realized he was more attracted to her than he’d been to anyone in his life—well worth the ticket price he’d paid to get in.
He realized the flip-flopping children in the act were Amelia and Curtis. They flipped onto the small stage where Esme dismounted, and as music filtered through the arena she put Curtis into a box, concealing him.
A moment later she was sawing through him. Last’s heart thundered. The judge was right! The children were young and impressionable and probably easily scared! Last leaned forward, knowing in his heart that Esme wouldn’t hurt them. They’d probably done this act a hundred times—but still, he was relieved when Curtis reappeared with no blood spurting from his “halved” body.
Then Last’s heart went completely still as Amelia was raised on a pulley, seemingly as if by magic wings, to the ceiling. Esme approached the center of the stage, instructing Amelia to fly. And fly she did, nearly to Last’s seat. Maybe she’d seen him! It seemed as if they’d made eye contact. Last wasn’t certain. As she swung back, to the gasps of the audience, Esme yelled, “Disappear!” and she did! Last craned his neck looking for Amelia, but she was gone. Poof!
He was very angry with Poppy Peabody.
She had certainly made a believer out of him. His entire collar was soaked with perspiration.
A