“I’m not going to do it,” Tex said suddenly. “I refuse to take part in this charity event.”
“Have it your way. It’s no big loss, I’m sure. I have to go,” she told him. “Thanks for calling. I think.” Actually, she was a little miffed that he’d only called to cry on her shoulder.
She wanted him to call her because he wanted to talk to her. Really talk to her. Not just wheeze. Even though she felt like wheezing about Marvella herself.
“Okay. I just needed to hear you say that ducking out on a charity event was all right.”
“It’s fine. You have given yourself permission to be a weasel. Good night.” And she hung up the phone.
But five hours later, when Cissy was sound asleep in her bed, something sat on her feet. Something large. She let out a shriek and struggled to sit up.
“Sh,” the something large said. “It’s Tex.”
“What are you doing?” she demanded furiously, though she was greatly relieved to know it was Tex and not a patron of Marvella’s. “How did you get into my room?”
“We’ll discuss terms of entry later,” he said.
“Right now, I’ve got to talk to you.”
She switched on her side-table lamp, tucking in a startled breath when she got a look at the gorgeous man sitting on her feet. Hot enough to radiate his own heat. And yet, she didn’t dare melt for him again. “Could you get off of me?” she asked.
He didn’t move. Instead, he handed her a white box. “Wedding cake. Hannah commissioned me to courier this to you. Actually, she also told me the secret to getting into Rapunzel’s ivory tower. Of course she wasn’t expecting me to drop in on you in your sleep, but I prefer the thrill of surprise.” He handed her some wedding napkins that had Ranger’s and Hannah’s names entwined in burgundy, and a rose he’d swiped from the table decorations. “Now, this is a rose,” he said. “This I envy. But I give it to you. And I’ll stop with the brownnosing there.”
“Oh,” Cissy said, taking the box and the rose and trying to ignore the fact that she was slightly mollified. “Thank you. I mean, tell Hannah I said thank you, although not for telling you how to breach the tower,” she said, regaining the stiffness in her voice just to let him know he was not forgiven for breaking in. She allowed her gaze to run swiftly over him, drinking him in though she faked disinterest. “Now, could you get off me?”
Tex stared at her, his eyes dark in the lamplight.
Her heart began pounding. If she didn’t know better, she’d think that was lust burning in his gaze. “Here.” She thrust the cake box at him. “Please put that on my dresser over there.”
The second he got up to do it, Cissy leaped out of the bed and grabbed her robe, tossing it on and tying it tight. “I should scream for security.” She frowned as she put the rose in a silver vase that sat on her dresser.
“Do you ever plan on telling Marvella that you’re married?” Tex asked after a long perusal of her silvery satin bathrobe. “Not that it matters or anything, in the overall scenario, but I wondered if you ever planned on telling anyone the truth, besides Hannah.”
“Whose business is it?” Cissy crossed her arms.
“Well, that’s the funny thing,” Tex said, pushing back his cowboy hat as he stared down at her. “I’ve decided to make it mine, Mrs. Kisserton.”
Chapter Two
“Well, that’s the even funnier thing,” Cissy said, fixing a gaze on Tex that seemed angry and amused all at once. God, he loved a woman with attitude. “I got a phone call today from the chief of police in our small town. My husband was sort of…located.”
Tex’s heart slid south. Maybe he’d quit breathing.
Then he told himself to buck up and focus. What did he care that some loser of Cissy’s was still around? “Yeah? So where’s he been?”
She pursed her lips at him in a thoughtful expression, and he had to admit the expression made him thoughtful, too.
“He’s been in a lake, wearing specially fitted diving gear.”
Tex frowned, and Cissy sighed. “He’d been tossed in with chains. Apparently, he’d been shot first, and then the culprits weighted his body so it wouldn’t be found. And not much of it was, I guess. Nothing identifiable without multiple lab tests, anyway.”
“I’m sorry.” His arms hung at his side, feeling useless as oak trees. “Can I do something for you?”
“Like maybe call before you drop in?” Cissy asked. “I generally prefer to have advance notice from visitors.”
He scratched his neck. “Not to be heavy-handed, but you don’t seem all that broken up about being widowed.”
She stared at him. “Tex, my marriage was unusual. It was a marriage of convenience for both of us. I would be a politically appealing wife, and he’d take care of my three younger siblings and their children, and me, and Gran. But that’s not exactly how it all worked out, obviously, or I wouldn’t have signed a contract with Marvella. When I came to Lonely Hearts Station, I hadn’t seen him in two years.” Her whole demeanor said, That’s my story—I don’t care if you like it or not. “The money is good, and my family eats.”
He couldn’t believe his ears. “Your marriage wasn’t real?”
She raised her brows at him. “As real as anyone else’s. Oh, you’re asking the indelicate question.”
He could feel his neck turn red, but yeah, he was all for asking indelicate questions if she’d answer them. Curiosity and burning hope lay deep in his heart. Maybe she hadn’t loved the guy. Maybe she wasn’t in true mourning, which would require him to give her breathing space, for a long time, to put her marriage and her feelings about her husband—
Whoa, Nelly. He stopped his thoughts with a hard jerk. “No,” he said, his voice hard, “I’m not asking any indelicate questions.”
“Really? Because I could have sworn you were—”
“Well, I wasn’t.” But he had been.
Once Hannah had slipped and mentioned that Cissy was married, he’d had to know why Cissy had made love with him in the barn two months ago, an experience he couldn’t get out of his head. It was so unlike him—and his brothers would be amazed if they suspected. “It’s none of my business. Why would I care?”
They stared at each other, belligerence on both their faces. Then Cissy broke eye contact and went to the box he’d brought, lifting the top so she could see inside. “So, did you slither under the door?”
He didn’t bother to answer. Lamplight from the side table backlit her, and he could make out curves under the robe and gown. Not that he hadn’t seen plenty of Cissy’s curves. Anyone who looked at her got an eyeful. Slippery and graceful under the icy satin, those curves made his throat dry out and his heart jump in his chest. A part of his body south of his heart jumped, too, staying in an arrested position, like a freeze-frame of a basketball player going to the hoop.
She stuck a finger into the icing and put it in her mouth, turning to see why he wasn’t answering her question and immediately guessed his thoughts.
He expected her to flush, but she didn’t. She just acted as if she didn’t care.
Which he found vaguely disappointing.
“Back to slithering,” she said.
“I won’t tell you how I got in, but it wasn’t