Texas Gold (9 page)

He had, and from the times they’d met, he knew this brother felt the same about him as his little sister.

“He’s the only one of us who ever ended up in the rodeo, which is weird. Rodeo is the biggest sport in Serendipity. Even bigger than football sometimes. He’s married to Celinda, but sometimes I wonder why.”

Next there was Jackson.

The second Baber to sell his land.

“He swore he’d never come home to Serendipity, but I hope he does some day. He lives out in California now, so at least when I go visit, I get to go to Disneyland.”

Then there was Keith who lived in Minnesota.

And last was Toby who lived down at the Texas coast but came home often.

She pointed to herself. “And then there’s me.”

He could tell she was ready to move on, but he wasn’t. He wanted to know more about the imp in the photo. The little girl she’d been.

“What happened to the eye?”

“The eye?” She looked at the picture again and he could see her straining for the memory. When it finally caught, she shook her head. “That was from playing catch. Daddy was teaching me to think quick and catch fast balls. I missed.”

He squinted at the thought. “Must have hurt.”

“Don’t remember that much about hurting. Daddy used to say if it isn’t bleeding or broken, it’s going to be fine.”

The more he heard about Mallory’s father, the less he liked. He must have been tougher than rawhide to live with.

Only he could tell she didn’t see it that way. She laughed at the memories, embraced the toughness of it.

“Must have been difficult raising a girl alone after all those boys.”

She nodded. “You know a little about that, I suppose. But Daddy did the best he could.”

“I suppose he did, and he has you as the payoff. State champ coach. He must be proud.”

“Shoot yes, he’s proud. I’m the only chance he’s got since none of his sons followed in his footsteps.”

She was done talking about the past.
 

She moved on down the short hall and opened the last door. Peeking inside, she held out her hand. “Hold on a second. I wasn’t planning on this.”

After a few seconds of perusal she waved him on. “All right I guess. You can look from here, but don’t go in.”

He wanted to go in her room, wanted to take her with him and show her the wonders of who she was. The men in Mallory’s life might love her, but her family had done a miserable job helping her love herself. She’d become exactly what they all expected.
 

Coaching trophies lined her dresser. As if they defined who she was.

Suddenly he didn’t feel a bit jealous of the life Mallory led or of the family she surrounded herself with.

How a family like hers could let a row of trophies symbolize her best accomplishments was beyond him. And he swore as soon as he returned home, he’d make sure Nina’s sporting trophies were relegated to a back corner somewhere.

At the very end of Mallory’s dresser, he could just barely make out a black and white photo of a woman who looked so much like her, it had to be her mother.

Her smile was full of warmth. Hey eyes laughed through time.

“How’d your mother die?”

“An accident.”

There was more to the story he was sure. But she didn’t want to share, and he wasn’t going to pry.

She on the other hand had no such compunction. “What happened to Mrs. Alexander?”

“She hated the hours. Left Nina with me when she was three and took off for bigger and better. She lives in California now. Has no desire to see Nina, and we like it that way.”

He watched her look back toward the picture on the dresser. “Don’t bet on it.”

With that, she closed the door on his inspection.

He’d barely even noticed the room itself except he could say it was the only feminine place in the house, and that was just barely.

If he hadn’t promised her a week of hands off, he’d take her in his arms now. The laughter was gone and in its place a sad acceptance hung in the air.
 

They both felt it. He couldn’t be certain why she did, but he knew his feelings stemmed from the reality that a family, not one like the Babers exactly, but one where family reunions and pictures hanging on hallway walls had no real place in his future.

As it was, he did his best to forget his own past. He certainly didn’t tell stories about it with the same wistful longing he heard in Mallory’s voice.

Still, he was determined to lighten the mood.

“My turn next, right?”

She looked at him in confusion. “What?

“You know, today you tried to kill me running. Tomorrow I get to take you out.”

“Oh.” She shrugged. “I guess.”

“Good.” He stopped there, knowing she’d hate asking more, and knowing she’d ask anyway, even though she hated it.

 
“So what’s on your agenda?”

She’d told him to dress comfortably. Sure he’d known to be ready to work out, but she’d definitely left him in suspense. Turn about was fair play.

“I don’t think I’ll tell. But I better warn you.”

She looked worried when he stopped, and he let her stew for a moment. Back in the living room, he picked up their glasses. Putting them in her hands he grinned the same grin he gave before he moved in for the kill on a more than difficult deal. Full of boyish persuasion and a man’s promise.

“You’ll want to dress formally.”

Chapter Six

Oh God, she’d tried to kill him and now he had revenge on his mind.

 
“How formal are we talking here?”

“I don’t know. Better than Sunday but not senior prom.”

What did this man know about senior proms? “What the heck does that mean?”

He shrugged again. For a man known for his intelligence, he certainly was vague about answers.

And he was intent on staying that way. He walked to the door leaving her to follow.
 

She wondered if this was the end of getting-to-know-you session one. If so, what would he expect?

While she’d told him about her family, she’d almost been lulled into a false sense of security. She walked by that picture all the time and hadn’t remembered that black eye in years.

But now that they were walking to the door, she was overcome with nervous jitters, which was ridiculous. It wasn’t like they’d never kissed.

Of course, that was the problem. Their kisses were never chaste pecks on the cheek. They were down and dirty, soul-searing lip locks.

It didn’t take long for her to realize her worry was baseless. He opened the door and practically jogged down her front sidewalk.

With a combination of relief and disappointment, she watched as he reached his convertible and turned back to her. “You running tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. I’ll meet you at eight. And maybe we can do those introductions to people in town then.”

“Maybe.” Fat chance. With her luck that would backfire, too. She could only imagine what he’d say about the sweetshop and old fashioned soda fountain.
 

It would do no good to point out that his developments would raise taxes so high most of the business owners downtown would be forced to sell.
 

She watched as he drove away. What kind of millionaire drove American cars? His Thunderbird might be the latest hit and his SUV might be a Cadillac, but still. What about all those fancy sports cars she’d grown up reading about?

And who gave him the authority to commandeer her morning run?
 

It didn’t matter, though. She knew she’d wait on him simply because he might let more slip about tomorrow night.

 
How had he found out her worst nightmare? She was going to have to wear those damn strappy sandals again.

She didn’t have a problem dressing up. She loved it! Hell, she’d wear dresses and makeup and do her hair every day if she wasn’t always coaching or running or gardening or all the other stuff that left her all hot and sweaty.

But the strappy sandals had been a stupid impulse buy brought on by her absent best friend’s obsession with fashion magazines. That and a little silent rebellion brought on by the thought of just once being the girl everyone thought she couldn’t be.
 

She’d seen them at the Galleria and been overcome with some demonic possession. Before she knew it, she’d dropped a hundred and fifty dollars on a few strips of leather.

Fortunately, she’d bought the perfect dress to go with the sandals. Even more rebellion.

Thank God!

Brenton might think he had her on this formal business. But she’d show him that she could do formal as well as he could run.

She’d just have to get past her aversion to those shoes.

Mallory tugged the zipper up the back of her dress and looked at her reflection with satisfaction.

For whatever reason, she hadn’t been able to pull tonight’s location from Brenton, no matter what she said or threatened, but she’d bet this dress would be fine.

When she’d bought it, she’d never dreamed of this day. Never thought there’d be a reason to dress like this. After all, Serendipity didn’t offer many formal affairs. Only the Christmas ball, and she always wore green to that.
 

And dates weren’t a part of her life. Coaching ate up all her time during the school year and half the summer.
 

She’d bought the dress as some sort of positive affirmation. She would date —one day— when she had the time. When she met the right man.

And the dress had hung under the plastic dry cleaner’s bag, taunting her daily until she’d finally shoved it in the very back of her closet.

Until tonight.

She tossed the plastic bag in her trash can with a feeling of triumph.

Tonight was a date, and she couldn’t wait to see Brenton’s face.

The black sheath dress brushed her legs two inches above her knees. The sandals made the most of her legs, and even though she hated walking in them, she wouldn’t trade the shoes for anything now that she saw her reflection.

With just a touch of cosmetics, she felt confident, complete, excited.

Shoot, without the makeup, she felt like that. He had that effect on her.

Brenton was due any minute, and already she felt a little like Cinderella. It didn’t matter that the girl looking back at her was an impostor, she was going to enjoy every minute of tonight.

As long as she didn’t think about the six days she had left to convince Brenton not to destroy her town or her father. And as long as she didn’t think about the way his lips felt on hers or the way his legs looked when he jogged right beside her. Or the way he’d regaled Ms. Ella at the sweet shop with tales of his own baking experience.
 

Just once he’d assured her. He’d decided to take on the world of a gourmet pastry chef and he’d set out to make the most marvelous french silk pie known to man.

His eyes had glinted with little boy mischief as he’d walked them through the story of his perfect pie crust on to the first bite. The first and last since he’d used salt instead of sugar.
 

Nina had been four at the time, and she still never let him forget it.

Ms. Ella had bestowed him one of her rare smiles and actually laughed. “Well, it’s a good thing you don’t have to cook for yourself anymore then, isn’t it?”

She’d given them free coffee saying she’d never been so entertained in her life, and Mallory had ignored the impish wink he’d sent her way.

She knew very well what her morning run meant. Just as she feared, he was more in love with downtown Serendipity than ever.

If only she could get him to see the residents as people and not just dollar signs.

He’d given her no hope, but then he hadn’t told her to quit trying either.

That had to count for something.

The fact that every where they went people asked after her daddy had to make an impression, too.

If she could get him to hold out for thirty more days, it’d be too late for the board to end her daddy’s contract.

Unfortunately, she didn’t have thirty days to work with. She had six.

When she heard the knock at her front door, she grabbed her black purse off the dresser and practically ran to the door.

She wasn’t ready for what she saw.

Brenton in suits or running clothes was something else. Brenton in an Armani tux was absolutely incredible.

She stood looking at him in awe.

“Hey, stop that. You’re embarrassing me.”

“Like I could ever do that.”

Behind them on her street a chauffeured limousine stood in place of her carriage. Her neighbors were either standing in their front yards watching or peeking through their living room curtains.

“What happened to the Caddie?”

As she closed her front door, he took her arm in his and led her down the front walk. “Image is everything. I still keep the car for business. John usually uses it, but I wanted to impress you.”

“Well, you did.” She watched the chauffeur open first her door and then Brenton’s. Just like in the movies, the man wore a hat and pressed suit. He called Brenton, Mr. Alexander and asked if they needed anything else before they started their trip.
 

Brenton assured him they were ready and then the car was moving forward, taking her to an unknown destination.

Once the car moved, Brenton turned toward her. “You look wonderful. I meant to tell you that the first moment I saw you.”

She relaxed against the back of the seat, her legs crossed showing lightly tanned skin that enticed him even closer.

“Did you think a girl like me didn’t know how to clean up?”

The defensive tone was barely there, but he heard it all the same. “I don’t know what kind of woman you think you are, Mallory, but you didn’t have to do much to look fantastic. In fact, I’d pretty much guess we could put you in a burlap sack and you’d still outshine anyone I’ve ever met.”

She brushed off his words with a toss of her hands. “Please.”

He wanted to say more. Wanted to tell her that the source of her beauty stemmed from the force of her convictions and the way she fought for them. But he wanted tonight to be about fun. He wanted to give Mallory the perfect date she’d never had judging by their conversations earlier.