The Counterfeit Cowgirl (13 page)

“So would Mama, and she actually had that private detective out hunting him,” Felicity informed him, chuckling. “That little stunt derailed his career for good, and that’s what really frosts him. He knows that Mama will do anything she can to ruin his chances. He won’t even be able to sing a solo at church if she has anything to say about it.”

Aaron’s eyes narrowed. “Are you telling me this nut is still calling you?”

“I haven’t heard from him in a couple of months, actually.” She wiped tears of laughter from her eyes. “The last time he asked me to call off the dogs, or else.”

“He said that?”

“Begging and pleading didn’t work, so now he’s switching to threats. Not that it matters. Mama has informed me that there isn’t a thing in the world I can say that will stop her from raking Gary over the coals. If and when she finds him, of course.”

“I’m glad you think it’s so amusing,” Aaron said, still frowning. “That guy ought to be in jail.”

“Actually, it was chiefly my pride that was injured,” Felicity said. “Along with my vanity, of course. I looked like I’d been in the boxing ring with Joe Frazier for a while there. And Gary isn’t really a dangerous man. He’s just desperate. In all his planning, I don’t think he expected anything like what happened.”

“If he’s still calling you, he’s dangerous.” Aaron looked menacing, the way he frowned and clenched his fists. “I don’t like that. He has no business wanting you to straighten out the fiasco he caused, especially after you were injured because of him.”

“There’s nothing he can do to me,” Felicity felt obliged to point out. “I blocked him from calling my cell phone and my friends at the shop know not to share any information about my whereabouts.”

“A guy who would set up a scene like that is a wild card,” Aaron said, his voice a low, deep rumble. “He could try to follow you or something. Who knows what he might do?”

“I know. Believe me, I’m very careful.”

“Is your mother aware that he has called you?”

“What do you think?” She could just imagine telling Becky that Gary Carlisle had contacted her.

“Never mind.” His gaze met hers, and Felicity felt that look all the way to her toes. “She’d probably hire you a bodyguard.”

“She would. I’d never be able to get any work done.”

Aaron grinned. “I’d kind of like to hire one for you myself. This guy is a lunatic.”

Aaron made her feel delicate and precious; challenged in a purely feminine way she’d never before experienced. And she felt desired, pursued and beautiful. She had to hand it to Aaron. He had Gary Carlisle beat, hands down, when it came to making her feel he wanted her; and she was letting him get to her. Why else would she have told him about that embarrassing incident with Gary?

Aaron studied her. “Maybe I should appoint myself your bodyguard. I’d smash that guy’s head into the same fence post you ran into.”

“I’d love to see that done, believe me.” Felicity thought it prudent to change the subject. “This really is a beautiful truck. I wish I’d seen it before I bought my Dodge.” She ran her hand lovingly over the turquoise finish.

Aaron grinned at her. “For you, honey, we can arrange a trade-in that’ll be to your advantage. Want to take her for a test drive?”

Felicity studied the truck longingly, glanced at her watch, and wished she hadn’t stopped in at Whitaker Chevrolet. She stood in way too much danger of falling for the owner and CEO.

“That color would go so well with my jewelry,” she murmured thoughtfully.

“Now I’ve heard it all,” Aaron said, grinning. “That’s the most feminine, girlish reason I’ve ever heard for buying a new truck.”

“A truck is a cowgirl’s number one accessory,’ Felicity agreed. “White looks so stylish and goes with almost everything. I have to admit, I never even stopped to consider turquoise. Obviously, that was a major oversight on my part.”

“Obviously,” he agreed, grinning appreciatively. “But before you buy, you’ve got to drive it and kick its tires. You wouldn’t want me to think you know nothing about trucks, would you?”

Felicity shrugged. “I know as much about trucks as I do about horses.”

“Oh, well, in that case … ”

“Don’t choke yourself trying not to laugh. It’s a matter of image. In the end, that’s what I’m selling — image.”

“In that case,” Aaron said, “let me get the keys for this beauty and take you for a test drive.”

“I really do have to leave,” Felicity said and gave the truck one last, longing look.

Before he could push any further, Aaron was called to his office. Felicity took the opportunity to make her escape. She drove swiftly down the highway and turned down a side street that led to the real estate office she had chosen to list the house with.

No doubt about it, the sooner she got that house cleaned out and on the market, the sooner she could clear out of Foxe.

She was in deep, deep trouble, she told herself as she parked her truck. Aaron had actually succeeded in convincing her that he was interested in her, not in what Becky Lozano could do to resurrect his career as a country singer. At the moment, she wasn’t sure which was worse: Aaron wanting her for herself, or Aaron wanting to use her as a means of building his career as a singer.

She was sure of only one thing — Aaron had one thing going for him that no other man had ever managed: whether or not he wanted her, she wanted him.

Aaron left his office in the late afternoon and drove home, thinking hard. The way he saw it, his first hurdle involved getting Felicity to dine with him. If she wouldn’t come to his home, then he would just have to take her out.

Obviously, that would take some doing. He wouldn’t be able to simply extend an invitation. She probably thought he wanted to take her out in order to bring himself to Becky Lozano’s notice — he had to admit she had reason.

He frowned again, wondering at the gall of that guy, Gary Carlisle. How crazy was that, trying to enact a phony rescue in order to gain Becky Lozano’s help in getting bookings for his band?

In the end, a would-be star had to have talent. Fifty friends in the industry lending their help would not give more than an artificial boost to a career that was not backed by genuine talent and personal drive. Aaron had seen enough to know that during his own stint as a singer.

In fact, he wouldn’t put it past Gary Carlisle to have decided Felicity was responsible for the utter destruction of his career. Any guy willing to pull a stunt like that was also capable of blaming the victim for his own failure.

He turned down the long country road that led to his ranch, already pleasantly conscious of a lift in his spirits. The moment his own spread came into sight, he looked a little further down the road toward Felicity’s cottage and felt a surge of anticipation when he spotted her truck in the driveway.

He turned in the long driveway that circled in front of his house and followed the branch-off that led to the side of the house and the barn. To his surprise, Felicity, slim and dashing in her long white skirt and fringed shirt, led a small pony toward his barn, accompanied by his two brown labs.

Donatello? Had Felicity taken Donatello from his stall in some sort of effort to get over her fear of horses? Plus, he kept the dogs in the house most of the time. How had they gotten out?

Aaron sat perfectly still, contemplating the possibilities. She could not have been home long. More likely, she had discovered Donatello grazing on her property and was returning the pony to his stall. But how had the pony and the dogs escaped in the first place?

He exited his truck only to be met by Deborah, who burst from the house wild-eyed and frantic.

“The boys,” she cried. “I can’t find them. They’re gone, Aaron!”

“Calm down, Deb,” he said gently. “Have you looked in the barn?”

“I haven’t had a chance yet,” she said, panting, dark hair disheveled. “They were playing in the den not more than half an hour ago. I just got through searching all over the house.”

Aaron looked toward the barn, where Felicity reached to pull open the barn door. “I think I know where they — ”

Suddenly, all hell broke loose.

Felicity stepped inside the barn and screamed. She vanished into a roiling white fog that erupted from the open barn door like volcanic steam. Donatello, normally a placid, even-tempered pony, reared back, and trotted down the driveway as fast as his short little legs would carry him. The two dogs ran in circles outside the door, barking wildly.

Aaron heard another scream, followed by what sounded like ferocious choking. He raced toward the barn, where the billowing white cloud rolled out the front door like a devouring mist. The barn door stood open, but he could not see anything for the white fog that shrouded the doorway.

He leaped inside, prepared to kill any intruder, but the moment his boot touched the floor, his foot shot out from under him. He rose into the air a good three feet, then fell heavily to the floor on his back and actually slid a few more feet into the room until he crashed into an obstacle.

He couldn’t see a thing, but the obstacle was warm and resilient. He sucked in his breath to speak but choked on the white powder filling the air and went into a paroxysm of coughing.

“Fancy meeting you here, Mr. Whitaker,” Felicity choked out between coughs.

He could not speak for several minutes.

“What the hell is going on in here?” he wheezed, when he was finally able to speak.

“I was hoping you could tell me.” Felicity sat on the floor, covered with the white powder. Her hair shone with white powder and something oily dripped down her blouse.

“Vegetable oil,” he exclaimed, identifying the odor at last. “And this white stuff looks like flour. What on earth — ?”

“Flour?” Felicity coughed. She sounded as baffled as he was.

They stared at each other through the residual white mist. Felicity looked as though someone had dumped a bucket of flour over her head. Tears streaked down her face from coughing so much. Aaron figured he probably looked much the same.

“Are you all right?” he asked and coughed.

“I think so, but everything that was sore from yesterday is now even sorer.” She leaned forward and rubbed the back of her oil-soaked white skirt.

He wiped white powder from his eyes and stared around in search of intruders. “I don’t suppose you’ve got any ideas about how this came about.”

“I’m afraid not.” She rubbed her elbow and studied the big oil spot on her blouse. “When I got home, I found one of your ponies grazing in my backyard, so I thought I’d just walk him back over. I opened the barn door and took one step inside and my feet went out from under me. The minute I hit the floor, something landed on my head and this white stuff went in my face and blinded me. Then I breathed it in and nearly choked half to death.” She added scrupulously, “I don’t know what happened to that poor little pony.”

“Don’t worry about Donatello. He fled the scene and went right back to your backyard.”

He caught sight of a small, plastic bucket lying on the floor and looked up at the small ledge above the barn door. Someone had taken advantage of the architecture to set a trap designed to ensnare the first person to enter the barn.

He studied the plastic bucket again … he had seen it before.

“Someone booby-trapped the door with a bucket of flour,” he said. “And to add insult to injury, they also greased the floor.”

“But why?” Felicity asked. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Maybe I’d better call the sheriff,” Aaron decided. “At the very least, someone is guilty of breaking and entering. Plus you or whoever entered first could have been injured.” He looked at the bucket once more. “On the other hand, maybe I’d better check the rest of the barn. The culprit might be hiding in here.”

“You’re right.” Felicity struggled to rise. “You might not want to call the sheriff.” She made it to her hands and knees. “This reminds me of something.”

Aaron narrowed his eyes and stared down the long aisle. “If you think it’s that Carlisle nut, you’d better stay right here while I check the stalls.”

“I can’t imagine why Gary Carlisle would booby-trap your barn. He’s the kind who’s a lot more likely to try and bribe me than he is to hurt me.”

Aaron ignored this. “Maybe that’s why the pony was put to graze in your yard. Carlisle probably knew you’d try and return him to his stall.”

“Surely the dogs would have given a warning.”

“Maybe, but they’re more likely to usher him inside and show him around,” Aaron said in dry tones.

He got to his feet very carefully, holding on to the edge of the barn door. Then he bent and lifted Felicity to her feet. One foot shot out from beneath her the moment she put her weight on her feet and she clutched his arms. He held her steady, careful not to move.

“Thanks. Every time I tried to get up, I slipped back into the oil.” She looked down at herself. “I hope there’s a really good dry cleaning place in town. Maybe they can save this outfit, although I doubt it.”

He held her, amused that she was hardly aware of his proximity while she assessed the damage to her clothes. “The dry cleaner is just down the highway from my dealership.”

She looked up, strongly resembling an owl covered in snow. The moment she did, he drew her in and kissed her. “I came out here to invite you to dinner, Felicity,” he said solemnly. “But it looks like it’ll have to be a late dinner. It’s going to take an hour or two for both of us to get the vegetable oil and flour out of our hair.”

Felicity stared at him as if dazed by the kiss. “I may not be able to move after busting my poor bones on this hardwood floor. They still haven’t recovered from landing on your front lawn yesterday.”

“In that case, allow me to recommend an hour in my whirlpool tub. Guaranteed to ease your soreness and restore mobility to frozen joints.”

“Thanks. I may have to take you up on it if I hope to ever move again.” She released her grip on his arms and gingerly took a step. “That’s assuming I can make it out of here without going down again.” She grabbed the barn door and held on for dear life.

“Stay just outside the door,” Aaron commanded. “Let me have a look around before you go home, just in case.”