Flirting with Texas (Deep in the Heart of Texas) (19 page)

The pictures were of two children riding horses, playing in the sprinklers, and eating Popsicles in front of Sutter’s Pharmacy. Jenna recognized her mother immediately, but she didn’t recognize the other child. She was much taller than Jenna’s mother with long blond hair and serious brown eyes.

Jenna went to put the pictures back in the envelope and discovered a folded piece of notebook paper. When she pulled it out, another picture slipped to her lap. It was the same blond-headed child, except grown. The teenage woman stood in front of a rundown house, looking sad… and pregnant.

With a tingle of apprehension tiptoeing up her spine, Jenna carefully unfolded the notebook paper and read the awkwardly scrawled words that looked like they were smudged with tears.

Please watch out for my baby girl…
The next word was too smudged to read, but Jenna had no trouble reading the signature.
Love, Olive

As much as Jenna had wanted proof that there was a reason she was different from the rest of the family, now that she had it, she didn’t want to believe it.

She studied the picture. This couldn’t be her mama. Her mama was petite and dark-headed with a smile that
always made Jenna feel better. This woman was big-boned and dishwater blond with a somber, almost mean, mouth. Obviously, Jenna was just letting her imagination get the best of her. Beau was right. Minnie had been talking about someone else and this letter and picture were all just a coincidence.

Of course, there was only one way to find out.

At three in the afternoon, Josephine’s Diner wasn’t crowded. In fact, only two people sat at the counter. Both women were talking to Rachel Dean and were so engrossed in their conversation that they didn’t even glance up when Jenna stepped through the door.

“… I kid you not,” Cindy Lynn said, “Mabel said he walked in as pretty as you please and propositioned her right there in Doc Mathers’s office.”

Rachel Dean snorted. “Are you tellin’ me a good-lookin’ man like that has to proposition women? Why, women are beating down his door—” She glanced up. “Jenna Jay?” She hustled around the counter and enveloped Jenna against a soft bosom that smelled like onions and bacon. “Why, we thought you’d gone back to New York City.”

“I decided to stay a few days.” She pulled back and gave Rachel a stern look. “But that doesn’t mean that the folks of Bramble were right in kidnapping me. You can’t force people to do things they don’t want to do. And I expect you to call Kenny Gene and have him fix every car on my daddy’s lot by sundown.”

“They’re already fixed, honey.” Rachel beamed at her, showing off the space in between her front teeth. “He fixed them as soon as you left with Beau.” She released
Jenna and headed back behind the counter. “Now what can I get you to eat? You’ve gotten way too skinny while you’ve been away.”

The delicious scents coming from the kitchen made Jenna realize just how hungry she was, and she walked over and sat down on a stool next to Twyla. She lifted the menu from between a sugar dispenser and a bottle of catsup and was happy to see that it hadn’t changed a bit. Chicken fried steak was still surrounded by a rectangle of stars, and you could still order frog legs and chicken gizzards.

“Do you think Josephine will make me some chili and eggs this late in the day?” she asked.

Rachel set a glass of water down in front of her and wiped her hands on her apron. “Of course she will. I’ll just go back and let her know you’re here.”

When she was gone, Cindy Lynn spoke up. “We’re all glad you stayed, Jenna. But if Beau didn’t take you to Lubbock, where did he take you?”

Jenna closed the menu. “Miss Hattie’s.”

Twyla sucked in her breath. “You spent the night at the henhouse, Jenna Jay?”

Before Jenna could answer, Twyla started rambling. “Did you see anything naughty? Do the hens run around in that fancy lingerie? Or do they just run around butt nekked?”

“Who cares what the hens wear,” Cindy Lynn jumped in. “I’m more interested in the male prostitute.” Her thick, mascara-covered lashes batted. “Is it as big as it looks? And do you have to pay to touch it?”

The menu slipped from Jenna’s hand as she stared at the women. “What are you talking about? Beau is not a male prostitute. And Miss Hattie’s is a bed and breakfast.”

Cindy Lynn and Twyla exchanged looks before Twyla spoke. “That’s what we thought, too, especially when Brant and Ms. Murphy were runnin’ things. But now that they moved back to Dogwood to raise that cute little baby of theirs, those old hens have taken over. And from what Moses heard, they ain’t interested in runnin’ no bed and breakfast. There’s shady business goin’ on out at Miss Hattie’s. And Beauregard Cates is right smack dab in the middle of it.”

“That’s absolutely ridiculous,” Jenna said. “And whoever started such a rumor has a few screws loose.”

Cindy Lynn gasped and made the sign of the cross.

“I don’t know what they taught you in that big city, Jenna Jay. But here in Texas, we don’t blaspheme men of God.”

M
ISS
H
ATTIE’S WASN’T QUITE WHAT
Pastor Sean Robbins had expected. And he wondered if he hadn’t taken a wrong turn until he got close enough to read the large sign about trespassers being prostituted. Some might find the sign funny. Sean just found it brazen and infuriating. Especially when he thought of the poor women who were being taken advantage of. He had hoped that Sheriff Hicks would take care of the situation, but the sheriff had the audacity to imply that Sean had misunderstood the entire episode with Marcy. Of course, Sean had refused to give the sheriff her name, which was probably why the man couldn’t do a better investigation.

Sean pulled his Jeep into the circular driveway and got out. Well, the sheriff might not be willing to do anything about the house of ill repute, but he was. He had tossed and turned all night, his mind consumed with thoughts of Marcy Henderson offering her favors. Not just to him, but to other men.

Sean just hoped he wasn’t too late.

He climbed the steps of the porch and lifted his hand
to the door knocker that actually resembled a pair of… His eyes widened, and he pushed the doorbell instead. A young woman in a formal gown answered the door. She looked disappointed when she saw Sean, but quickly hid it behind a bright smile.

“Welcome to Miss Hattie’s,” she said. “You must be Mr. Sedberry from California.” She didn’t wait for a reply before she ushered him into the house, reciting the history of Miss Hattie’s as she led him toward the stairs.

Sean started to correct her mistake and then realized that God had just handed him the perfect opportunity to prove what was taking place in the house. If this girl found out who he really was, he didn’t doubt for a second that the hens would try to pull the wool over his eyes like they had with Sheriff Hicks.

The young woman led him to a room on the second floor. He expected red satin sheets and dim lighting. Instead, the room was decorated in virginal white and sunshine. He waited for the young woman to proposition him, but once she had shown him the room amenities, she headed for the door.

“Dinner is at six,” she said before she turned and sent him a smile. “And someone will be up very shortly with the house specialty. I can guarantee that you’re going to love it. All men do.”

The door closed with a click, and Sean found himself alone in the room. A room that, for all its virginal white, turned out to be more seductive than Sean first thought. The comforter on the bed was fluffy and inviting. The lace curtains on the window frilly and feminine. And the bouquet of lilacs on the nightstand sent out an aroma that was calming and at the same time arousing.

No wonder Miss Hattie’s had done so well in a time when men outnumbered women. The henhouse offered everything a single man’s life was missing—everything Sean’s life was missing. He had grown up with a mother and two sisters, yet he had forgotten what it felt like to be surrounded by the scent of fresh-cut flowers and baking cookies.

He had just reached for the pretty sachet that was hooked over the knob of the dresser when the door was opened, and Marcy stepped in. A part of him was happy to see her, but the other part was sad to have to finally acknowledge her profession. And there was no denying her profession when she turned and let the fuzzy robe she wore slip off her shoulders to reveal a body that took Sean’s breath away.

Desire pooled deep inside of him, threatening to drown every logical thought in his brain and all the spirituality in his soul. He’d had girlfriends in high school and college, but he had never seen them completely naked. Naked and so beautiful that he couldn’t speak. All he could think about was touching this woman, gliding his hands over her smooth skin and soft breasts that drooped like heavy fruit from a tree. If this was what Adam had felt when he took the bite of apple and first
saw
Eve, Sean understood why Adam had sinned.

Sean wanted to sin. He wanted to pull this woman down into the soft down of the comforter and sin until he was consumed in the flames of hell. But then he noticed the way her hands nervously clenched at her sides, and the way she couldn’t seem to pull her gaze away from the tips of her scarlet-painted toes.

Sean’s desire was eclipsed by compassion.

“Starlet mentioned that we had a guest,” Marcy said in a voice that showed no indication of her fear. “I don’t go in for kinky stuff. And I’d appreciate it if you made it short and sweet.” When he didn’t say anything, she lifted her eyes.

“Sean?”

The sound of his given name coming from her lips resounded in his heart like the peal of a Sunday church bell. As if his feet had a will of their own, they propelled him across the thick rug. He stopped just a breath away from her, so close that the tips of her breasts almost touched the palm trees on his shirt. The carnal side of him wanted to touch those breasts, to cradle them in his hands and worship them like they deserved to be worshipped. Instead, he kept his hands at his sides and tried to breathe.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered.

She leaned up and kissed him, her lips warm and pliant beneath his. When she pulled back, tears were in her eyes. “You don’t have to say sweet things, Preacher Man. I don’t need lies to go to bed with you. Just money.”

Her words extinguished his desire like a candlesnuffer to a flame. And Sean bent down and picked up her robe. He held it out, but Marcy ignored it.

“I realize that you’re probably new at this,” she said with a sassy smile. “But I think things will work much better if I leave it off.”

He kept his gaze pinned on the painting of lilacs that hung above the brass headboard, trying to ignore the living, breathing work of art that stood before him.

“Put the robe on, Marcy.” He swallowed hard. “Please.”

The please worked, and she slid her arms in the sleeves. He pulled the edges closed, but discovered that he
couldn’t resist the small temptation of brushing the back of his knuckles against one soft breast. It was a mistake. His heart almost jumped from his chest, and as he tied the sash, his hands shook worse than Moses Tate’s. When he was finished, he stepped away.

“Go pack your things,” he said. “You’re coming with me.”

There was a long pause before her derisive snort. “You plannin’ on taking me away from my life of sin, Preacher Man?”

“Yes.”

This time she laughed and waltzed over to the bed and flopped down. “Too late. I’ve already made my bed; now I have to lie in it.” She fell back, one shapely leg appearing through the split in her robe. Before he could be tempted anymore, Sean walked over and tossed the edge of the comforter over her.

“It’s never too late to change your ways, Marcy,” he said. “Mary Magdalene is a perfect example.”

“Well, I ain’t no Mary Maggie.” Marcy leaned up on her elbows, and Sean’s gaze dropped to her well-displayed cleavage. She smiled. “And you ain’t no Jesus. So we might as well accept that and get to the real reason you came here.” She cocked a finger at him. “Don’t deny it. I might not know the bible, but I know desire when I see it. And you want me.”

It would’ve been better for all concerned if he lied, but Sean couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“Yes, I do. But if everyone gave in to their fleshly desires, we’d be no better than animals. There are few people on the earth as good and Godly as Jesus, but that doesn’t mean we should stop trying. I realize your life
hasn’t been an easy one, and I’m not here to pass judgment. I’m here to offer you another choice. I’ve spoken to Mayor Sutter, and he’s agreed to give you the job of librarian until we can find another person to take it.”

Since he had heard the townsfolk talk about how good Marcy was in the library, he expected her to jump at the chance. Instead, she seemed angry. Her eyes darkened, and her lips pressed into a firm line. There was a moment when he thought she would reach out and hurl the vase of lilacs at him. But her anger passed quickly, replaced by the Marcy the town got to see.

Sean preferred her anger.

“Sorry,” she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, uncaring that she exposed her body from the waist down, “but I ain’t never cared for charity.” She got up and walked toward him, her hips swaying provocatively. Stopping in front of him, she ran a finger along the open neck of his Hawaiian shirt. “And what better place for the town slut than a whorehouse.”

Sean might’ve believed her if she hadn’t lifted her eyes to him. Eyes that were filled with so much pain that he was forced to look away.

“Good-bye, Preacher Man,” she whispered before she slipped out the door.

After Marcy left, Sean stood there for a few moments, praying for guidance. His prayers were interrupted by cackling laughter that sounded like it came straight from hell. The analogy turned out to be close to the truth when he turned to find the scariest woman he’d ever seen sitting in the doorway.

“Now there’s a first,” the woman said as she powered the wheelchair into the room. “ ’Course I guess that
depends on what you’re prayin’ for.” She held up a plate of cookies. “Cookie?”

Too upset to demonstrate good manners, Sean strode to the door and looked down the hallway in both directions before turning back to the woman. “Where did Marcy go?”