Texas Homecoming (11 page)

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Authors: Maggie Shayne

Tags: #cowboy, #Texas Brands, #Contemporary, #Westerns, #Romance, #Western, #Texas, #Literature & Fiction

BOOK: Texas Homecoming
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My God, could these people genuinely be this nice?

"I, um...Chicago School of Dance," she said finally. "For three years. I worked two jobs to pay my tuition. But I had to drop out when Bax came along."

"Wow," Penny said, looking a little awed now. "You must be incredible. You're more than I could have hoped for." She seemed to be battling a full blown face-splitting smile.

"Hoped for...for what?"

"Oh, just let me show you around the place first. We'll talk more after."

Jasmine studied the woman curiously as Penny drove into a parking lot and cut the engine. She glanced into the back. "Anything perishable back there?"

"No, nothing."

"Great. Let's go in then." She hopped out of the car, whipped open the back door and gathered up her baby. Then she headed toward the entrance of the large building.

It looked to Jasmine like a big old warehouse of some kind. Ribbed metal siding, a white metal roof. But the giant sign across the peak in front read The Dojo Spiritual Fitness Center, and underneath that, in slightly smaller script, Karate, Tae Kwon-Do, Tai Chi, Chi Gung, Yoga, Meditation.

As they walked toward the entrance, she wondered if Luke's cousin Ben looked anything like David Carradine. Then she thought to glance around the parking lot. "I don't see Luke's truck," she said. She opened the door, holding it for Penny.

"Oh, he'll be along," she said, coming inside with the baby.

Inside, the place was even more impressive. Hardwood floors, stacks of mats, sliding walls that could divide the huge space into four separate rooms at will, and the walls...the walls had long, elegant dragons painted on them in brilliant reds, oranges and purples.

"Come on in, please," Penny said. "It's just as well no one's here right now. Maybe I can convince you to indulge me just a little bit."

"I don't follow."

But Penny was already rushing through the place, pointing this way and that. "That little room beyond the Plexiglas window is where the controls are for the sound system, the lighting, the divider walls, etc. It doubles as an office. The other doors over there are the rest rooms, and that final one leads upstairs. The entire second floor of the place is where we live."

"Wow. Must be tons of room."

"Oh, there is. I'll show you around up there later, if you like." She pulled a mat from the stack near the wall and set the baby down on it. Then she dipped into her purse for a handful of baby toys and put them down in front of him. Zachary grinned and gurgled and sat up by himself, then reached for his toys. "That's a good baby," Penny said. She left him and walked the four steps into the control room and office, and a second later Jasmine heard strains of music wafting from unseen speakers.

Penny came back out again, smiling, "Will you show me just a little?" she asked.

Jasmine frowned, then she got it. "You want me to dance?"

"I know it sounds silly, but, oh, please, I really do have a reason for asking. And I've loved dance all my life. And it's just you and me here, after all. Please?"

Jasmine shrugged. "To tell you the truth, it's been killing me not to have time to dance in the past few days—or a gym to practice in." She glanced behind her toward the door. The music was seeping into her muscles, making them twitch with longing. "Back in Chicago, there was a gym right around the corner from the apartment. Rosebud and I used to go every day while Bax was at school. Kept us in shape, you know? I mean, it isn't like we had the chance to use our classical training much any other time...."

She found herself stretching as she spoke. Falling into her old patterns automatically, almost feeling as if Rosebud were with her, right now in that old gym with the smelly locker room, their cheap boom box plugged into a wall socket, sitting on the floor. A handful of boys usually waiting for the room to free up so they could shoot hoops, heckling them.

She and Rosebud giving it right back. Then dancing until those mouthy punks were just gaping, awestruck.

And then she was dancing. It came to her as naturally as breathing. She let herself forget everything that had happened. For a brief time, she was back there in that smelly gym around the corner. And Rosebud was with her, dancing in perfect synch. Closing her eyes, Jasmine gave herself over to the music, let it bend and move her body with its notes and rhythms. Moving her arms in graceful arcs. Dancing was her sweetest release—her haven where no hurt could get in. She lost herself completely to the music, to the dance, forgetting her audience of one woman and one baby. Forgetting the violence she had come here to escape. Forgetting everything, she danced.

* * *

LUKE AND BEN WALKED UP
to the front door of the dojo and heard music. "Guess they got bored waiting for us," Ben said.

Luke smiled at him, glancing down at the boy attached to the small hand that had been nestled inside his larger one for most of the afternoon now. He liked that feeling a little bit too much. He knew he shouldn't let himself get as fond of Baxter as this, feel as protective of him as he did. He shouldn't get a little soft spot in his chest every time those round wire-rimmed glasses slid down the kid's nose. It was not a good idea to get this attached to a child like Bax, with a mother like Jasmine. She wouldn't like it She would probably rebel violently against it. He knew that instinctively. Moms like Jasmine didn't like other people getting close to their sons.

But that thought—along with every other coherent thought he might have had—abandoned his brain when he stepped into the dojo and saw her. At first he didn't fully comprehend. Had Ben finally hired a professional dance instructor for that class Penny wanted to add to the selection here? But what would a dancer this good be doing in a backwater town like Quinn?

And then he realized what his gut had known from the first glance. That dancer was Jasmine. She swirled and dipped, and when her arms moved, they were liquid. Her hair flew when she whirled, and she moved faster and faster until she was only a blur in his eyes. And finally she stopped, ending bent low, almost hugging herself, her breaths rushing in and out in short shallow puffs and her skin damp and glowing.

For some reason, Garrett's words floated into his mind, "You're doomed, cuz." And he thought maybe he was. That was it for him—the moment when he walked in and saw her dancing. He didn't want it to be. But he saw now that he'd never had much choice in the matter. Otherwise, what was the heavy object that nailed him in the chest like a two-by-four just now?

Luke heard clapping. He blinked out of the stupor her dance had evoked in him and looked around. Ben was there, clapping slowly along with Penny. On the floor, wide-eyed, little Zachary grinned and copied them, smacking his tiny hands together repeatedly. Baxter clapped, too, louder and harder than anyone else.

Jasmine lifted her head, eyes wide in surprise. Her eyes seemed to find Luke's as if by radar, and then she lowered her gaze. Her face was already flushed with heat and exertion, but Luke thought it got even redder. Was she blushing? And how much sense did that make? She danced half-naked for men for a living. How could dancing this way, in front of him, fully clothed, make her blush?

"I told you my mom was the best dancer in the world!" Baxter said, his little chest puffing out.

"You sure did, Bax," Luke said.

"That was incredible," Penny said through her smile. "Incredible! Wasn't it, Ben?"

"Blew me away," Ben said. "Okay, Penny, you win."

Penny looked at him, brows rising high. "I get to have my dance class?"

He nodded. "Can't deprive the Quinn kids of learning something that powerful, now can we? And as for the teacher, well, we couldn't top what I've just seen here if we advertised for six months. If Jasmine wants the job, it's hers."

Penny clapped her hands together. Everyone was smiling. Everyone, Luke noticed, except for Jasmine. She was still staring at him, and it hit him that maybe she was waiting for him to make some comment about what he'd seen just now. Everyone had raved about her dancing except for him, and, uh, little Zachary on the floor there. Although at least the little one had clapped and drooled. Anyway, before he could find words, Jasmine looked away from him, as if Ben's words had finally registered.

"What job?" she asked.

"I want to add dance classes to our schedule, for the local kids," Penny said. "I have almost fifty parents interested already. But I couldn't do it without a qualified teacher, and I just didn't know where to find one." She smiled. "Until now."

Jasmine sent a swift glance toward Luke yet again. It took a moment before it dawned on him what she was waiting for. She was expecting him to inform his cousins what kind of dancing she had been doing up until recently. To tell them that they wouldn't want a woman like her teaching ballet and the like to young impressionable kids.

"I really...don't think I'm...qualified,'' Jasmine said at last.

Luke swallowed hard. "You're right. You're not. What you're qualified for is dancing on some Paris stage while people throw roses at your feet."

Those big brown eyes went wider. Her lips pulled slightly, and she lowered her head. "You know better than that Luke."

"No, I don't. I've never seen anything like that before, Jasmine. And I already know how wonderful you are with kids. So I'd say you're more than qualified to take this job on, if you want it. And….if you're planning to stay around Quinn awhile."

"Are you?" Penny asked.

"Are we, Mom?" Baxter echoed.

Luke looked at Baxter's hopeful expression and wondered how much his own mirrored it. He tried to school himself into a less obvious countenance, but he couldn't help hoping she would say yes.

Jasmine looked from one of them to the other and, sighing, closed her eyes. "I don't know. I'm sorry, I just...I don't know."

* * *

BEING IN QUINN, TEXAS, AT
night was as different from being in Chicago as being on another planet would be. It wasn't the sounds, or the lack of them. Or the smells, or the lack of
them.
It was the feeling. A safe, secure, utterly fictional feeling that all was right with the world. People who lived in small towns were seriously deluded. Lulled into believing in the spell places like this could cast.

Baxter was tucked safely in Luke Brand's big bed, sound asleep already. Jasmine sat outside on the porch swing, rocking slowly, breathing honeysuckle-laden night air and listening to the endless chorus of background music. Coyotes warbling their sad, lonely cries. Cicadas chirping madly. The distant moan of the wind. Above her, beyond the porch roof, were stars. She didn't think she had ever seen so many stars in the sky in her life. They spread like a twinkling blanket over the world.

The creak of the screen door and heavy footfalls spoke of Luke's approach even before he sat down beside her on the swing. He gave a push of his big boots and sent the thing into greater arcs than before. Then he crossed his arms behind his head and leaned back, stretching out his long legs.

"It's pretty here, isn't it?" he said. "Prettiest place I think I've ever seen. And I've seen a lot of places."

"It's pretty here," she agreed. "Can't argue with that."

"This place—it's part of what made me decide to stop running, put down some roots."

"I suppose it's as good a place as any to settle down."

"Nope," he said. "Better."

She lifted her brows. "Look, if you're trying to sell me on that job offer of

Penny's—"

"Jasmine, I know something's wrong." He stopped the swing, sat up straighter and turned part way around to face her. "I know you're scared, but you've got to stop running sometime.
Somewhere.
Sooner or later, you have to turn around and fight this thing, whatever it is, or it'll dog you to the end of your days." !

She averted her eyes. He was far more perceptive than she wanted him to be. "What makes you think I'm running from anything?''

He looked at her, his expression telling her not to even bother with the denial. "Sooner or later," he said again, "you gotta stand and fight. For Baxter's sake, if not

your own."

She shook her head hard. "It's for Baxter's sake I have to keep running."

He paused a beat, maybe digesting that. Then he said, "Tell me what it is."

"I can't."

Pursing his lips, he nodded. "Okay, you can't. It doesn't matter what it is, anyway, because eventually it'll catch up to you. Here...
here
is where you have the best shot at beating it. Better than any other place where you might run out of time. Here, Jasmine. You can win here."

Lifting her gaze slowly, she searched his eyes. "What makes here so much different than anywhere else?"

He pinned her with a piercing stare. "I'm here."

* * *

SHE WISHED WITH EVERYTHING IN
her that she could believe him. But she couldn't. She couldn't risk Baxter's life on the word of a man who was little more than a stranger to her. Sooner or later Petronella would track her down, and she needed to make sure she and Bax were gone before that happened. God, if he caught up to her here, Luke and his entire family would be at risk. That thought gave her pause. Since when did she worry about outsiders? It had been her and Baxter and, until recently, Rosebud, against the world.

And yet a part of her was beginning to care about these people. And a part of her longed to stay in a place like this. To take the job Ben and Penny had offered, teaching dance to children. God, it would be so much better than what she'd been doing for a living up to now. And living in a town like this one—with people like these, who, honest to God, seemed to care about others more than they did about themselves—would be heaven. For her, and especially for Baxter. Already Baxter's cheeks had a healthier glow to them than they'd ever had before. And he'd laughed out loud more in the time they'd spent here than he normally did in a whole week.

God, it would be perfect here.

If only it could be.

She stared back at Luke, unable to look away from that penetrating stare, and the next thing she knew, he was kissing her. His mouth pressed to hers, his arms slid gently around her. It wasn't the sloppy, groping sort of kiss men occasionally forced on her when they caught her alone in the parking lot after a show. This was different. Fleeting and tender. His hands gently cupped the back of her head, as his lips tasted hers lightly, softly.

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