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The silence thickened. She waited for him to say something, he supposed. But his mind wasn’t on talking at the moment. The electricity zinging between them was burning him up.
Finally she looked up at him. “I never get involved with employees.” The need blazing in her eyes protested the statement.
“Technically, I’m not an employee.” His voice was husky. He wanted to touch her but didn’t dare. He, too, had a rule against getting involved with a client … but technically she wasn’t his client.
“Guess not,” she agreed. She licked those lush lips again. “Truth is, I haven’t been kissed in more than three years. I may have forgotten how it’s done.”
He reached out and removed the clip that held her hair. He wanted her to feel what a kiss from the right man felt like.
About the Author
DEBRA WEBB wrote her first story at age nine and her first romance at thirteen. It wasn’t until she spent three years working for the military behind the Iron Curtain and within the confining political walls of Berlin, Germany, that she realized her true calling. A five-year stint with NASA on the space shuttle program reinforced her love of the endless possibilities within her grasp as a storyteller. A collision course between suspense and romance was set. Debra has been writing romance, suspense and action-packed romance thrillers since. Visit her at www.debrawebb.com or write to her at PO Box 4889, Huntsville, AL 35815, USA.
High Noon
Debra Webb
MILLS & BOON
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To my family, for always being there for me.
Chapter One
Beaumont, Texas, Sunday, May 26th, 9:50 p.m.
Joel Hayden had lingered in a dark corner of the High Noon Saloon for the past two hours. Finally a patron vacated a stool at the bar and Joel settled there before anyone else in the happy crowd could commandeer the prized position.
Whatever Laney Seagers was doing, she was doing it right. The century-old tavern she’d resurrected with her own two hands was hopping even on a Sunday night. The music flowing from the jukebox was country all the way and the atmosphere pure Texas from the murals on the walls depicting one-horse towns from the West’s heyday when duels were carried out in the street at high noon to the restored original wood floor that had seen its share of two-stepping boots and bloody brawls. The patrons carried the mood with their cowboy boots and Stetsons.
He’d watched Laney Seagers for the past three days. Wasn’t a hardship. The lady made his job easy, a vacation almost. Each time she laughed, the sound, sultry and sexy, left every single male customer within hearing range slack-jawed. Her honey-blond hair swung around her shoulders, making his fingers itch to see if it felt as silky as it looked.
Joel had handled a generous list of personal protection gigs for businessmen, celebrities and politicians alike, but he had to admit, this one was different. His new employer, the Colby Agency, wanted those with the most experience in the field on this case. This was Joel’s first assignment for the Colby Agency and not one to be taken lightly, despite the spirited setting and the sexy blonde in the tight jeans and formfitting T-shirt sporting the saloon’s logo.
Laney Seagers was in danger. And that was the easy part. That she didn’t realize the threat nipping at her heels was the element that made the situation less than optimal. Though Joel would rather watch the lady scurry around behind the bar than eat at chow time, there was only so much even the most highly trained bodyguard could do under the circumstances.
Throw in the mix a five-year-old kid who was scared to death of his own shadow and things were a little complicated. Since the boy wouldn’t start kindergarten until the fall, he spent most of his time attached to his pretty mother’s hip. Even now, as she worked the Sunday-night crowd, Buddy slept on a cot in the office. Whenever he was awake, he played video games in the kitchen where the cook, Tatum, a landlocked former sailor he called Uncle Tater, kept him company. Every other moment he clung to his mom. Thing was, the kid didn’t play just any old kind of games; they were the learning kind, reading, math and the like. As seemingly introverted as he was, little Buddy Seagers was as smart as a whip.
Joel had three brothers and they had all grown up hard. Their mother had developed multiple sclerosis when Joel was about Buddy’s age. By the time he was ten, she was helpless. Their father had been busy trying to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table. Later, when Joel was older, he also understood that it was easier for his dad to work all the time than to come home to an ever-unfolding tragedy.
Basically, the Hayden boys pretty much learned to take care of themselves out of necessity. Made Joel wonder if shy little Buddy had a chance against the bullies he would face in school. Without a proper father figure or even an older brother, preparing him to take care of himself fell on the mother’s shoulders. He didn’t know many mothers who taught their boys how to land a nice uppercut.
It wasn’t really his business whether or not Laney Seagers was up to that particular challenge, but being a kid from a primarily one-parent household, he wondered. She sure seemed to take by the horns the other challenges life tossed her way. Her background reflected a tough lady who preferred being a survivor to being a victim. A guy had to respect that. Rather than rely on entitlements, she got out and made things happen.
Laney sashayed over to where he sat at the center of the long counter. She smiled that big, bright smile that made her brown eyes twinkle and left a man a little dazed, and then she glanced at his half-empty glass.
“Somehow you just don’t look like a soda pop kinda guy to me, handsome. Can I get you something else?”
“I have a one-drink limit when I’m doing the driving home.” He gifted her with a wink and a smile of his own. “Unless you’re planning on taking me home, I guess it’ll be soda for me the rest of the night.”
She belted out another of those sultry laughs. “I have to give you credit, that’s the first time I’ve heard that one.” She picked up his glass. “You having regular or diet?”
There went that dazzling twinkle in her eyes again.
Beyond the fact that she was a knockout with a killer smile and inspiring eyes, he genuinely liked the lack of pretention in her manner and her looks. No fussy makeup or hairdos. She seemed completely comfortable in her own skin. He liked that a lot. She had spirit in spite of the hard luck she’d survived.
“Regular.”
She filled his glass and placed it on a fresh napkin in front of him. “We’ve still got wings and ribs in the kitchen,” she suggested.
He held up a hand. “I’m good.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing.”
Watching her walk away wasn’t in his job description, at least not the part where he zeroed in on those tight-fitting jeans. But then he was only human. Any woman who looked that good in plain old denim deserved a long, lustful stare from any man breathing.
Since this was work, there was very little chance he would have the opportunity to see what he was missing beyond watching her swing those hips. That alone was worth hanging around twenty-four/seven for however long it took.
Tonight, if all went as planned, he’d get his opportunity to get a little closer. He’d overheard the one remaining member of her security make the statement that he wasn’t getting paid enough to deal with the boss’s ex. The frustrated guy intended to give Laney the bad news tonight. He’d already accepted another position with the competition downtown and he wasn’t feeling inclined to give even a one-week notice.
A lot of that had been happening this week.
A raw deal for Laney but a much-needed opportunity for Joel to gain a better surveillance position. He’d laid the necessary groundwork with subtle comments to some of Laney’s employees.
He swiveled on the stool, his back against the counter, and surveyed the crowd. At a table near the jukebox, a belligerent and clearly inebriated jerk annoyed the waitress attempting to take his order. From a distance he appeared your average had-a-little-too-much reveler. But that was far from the case.
He was the rub. The no-good baby daddy himself. Terrence “Terry” Kingston. Poster boy for thirty-something men with failure-to-launch syndrome. And missing in action ninety percent of the time for the past five years under the guise of finishing his law degree so he could follow in his rich daddy’s footsteps. Though he and Laney had never married, he was the father of her son.
A self-absorbed, egotistical leech who just wanted to play from time to time with the one girl smart enough to walk away. His serial stints in rehab had prevented him from taking legal action to obtain partial custody of his son. Not that he’d actually wanted the responsibility but the threat worked well when he wanted something else from Laney. Knowing the kind of money his father had put Laney at a serious disadvantage. Fear had likely prevented her from taking legal steps to get the guy out of her life once and for all.
But now Kingston had a new motive. Rich daddy had cut off his trust fund after the last round of detox following his son’s surrender to his never-quite-relinquished relationship with cocaine. So slacker Kingston junior needed a way back into rich daddy’s good graces. A brief background check and a few questions asked of the right folks and Joel had the whole sordid story.
There was nothing like a grandson, an heir, from an only son—an opportunity for a do-over—to get rich daddy’s attention. The desire to do it right this time, with a grandson when he obviously failed with his only son, was a powerful persuader for a man marching toward sixty. The senior Kingston had built his empire with no time for anything else and the guilt had caught up with him.
Kingston junior, on the other hand, was banking on his five-year-old investment to get his fingers back in the money jar.
And Joel was counting on human nature.
The cocky man swaggered up to the bar, his right tilt giving away his increasing level of intoxication. He elbowed aside a couple of patrons and bellied up to the counter. The unhappy folks grumbled but walked away rather than risk trouble.
The exchange between the ex and the saloon owner was muted by the lively music roaring from the jukebox, but Joel didn’t need to hear the words to get the gist of the conversation. The body language of both participants telegraphed the story loud and clear to anyone who bothered to look.
He wanted something and she wasn’t having any part of it.
Dekker, the security detail for the night—and every night since Joel’s arrival—cut through the crowd and stationed himself next to the troublemaker. Dekker was a big guy. Six-three or four. Two-forty or two-fifty. Looked like a linebacker for a pro football team.
Joel finished off his soda and stood. Things were about to get interesting and he didn’t want to miss the show.
Kingston turned on the big guy wearing the High Noon Saloon T-shirt and whatever he said didn’t sit well. Dekker turned to Laney, shook his head and walked out.
Based on the gossip Joel had heard from the waitresses, Dekker was sick of throwing Kingston out night after night and getting nowhere. The local cops wouldn’t give the guy what he deserved for fear of reprisals from his rich daddy. Adding to the pressure, Kingston had started threatening Dekker’s wife’s position at one of the elementary schools. Old man Kingston had friends in high places, the smart-mouthed jerk liked to brag.
Well, Joel didn’t care who his daddy was or where his friends fell on the food chain. He just wanted to kick the crap out of him on principle.
By the time Joel made his way down to that end of the bar, the patrons had scattered and Laney and Kingston were going at it loud enough to drown out the music.
A few more minutes and they would successfully clear the house. Bad for business. And Joel happened to know Laney couldn’t afford any dips in revenue.
“You can’t keep me from seeing my son,” Kingston slurred. “I’m petitioning the court for full custody. My daddy says this time I’ll win. And you can’t do a damned thing but cooperate or forfeit.”
“Do what you think you’re big enough to do,” she dared. “Until then, you can see Buddy when you’re sober and only when you’re sober. Right now, I want you out of here. This is my property and I have the right to kick your drunken butt out if you can’t behave.”
The arrogant fool laughed. “The way I hear it, that may be changing very soon. Money makes the world go round, in case you haven’t learned that yet.”
Laney was fighting mad. But beneath all that bravado she was terrified. Didn’t take a degree in psychology to see that. She wore her emotions on her sleeve. It worked for her because they were honest, no-drama emotions. Something else Joel liked about her.
“I thought I might go for bourbon after all. Straight up,” Joel said as he cozied up to the bar next to the sleazebag harassing the lady.
Laney took a breath, shifted her attention to him. “Sure.” She pivoted and stalked over to the rows of liquor bottles lining the mirrored shelves behind the bar.
“Who the hell are you?” Kingston glared at Joel, his bleary eyes reporting his alcohol-consumption level better than any breathalyzer could.
Joel leaned closer to the man and said for his ears only, “I’m the guy who’s going to ruin those new veneers your daddy’s money bought if you don’t leave the lady alone and get the hell out of here.”
Kingston reared back, swayed. He patted his pocket. “Old switch might have something to say about that.”
Joel grabbed him by the collar, lifted him just high enough to prevent his boots from settling square on the floor, and hauled him across the room and out the swinging doors.
The drunken SOB cursed and swung repeatedly at Joel, missing every time. Joel snagged the key ring from the weasel’s belt and shoved him away. “If you have any friends, call someone to pick you up. Otherwise, call a cab.”
The guy charged at him. Joel stepped aside. Kingston went down face-first on the wooden walkway created as authentically as the ones straight out of an old Western movie. In fact, the whole scene could have been out of a classic John Wayne movie. Except Laney wore those body-hugging jeans instead of an ankle-length dress and petticoats.
“Show your face in here again,” Joel warned, “and I won’t be so nice next time.”
Joel waited at the door until Kingston staggered away, cell at his ear, hopefully calling for a ride.
Joel turned around and came face-to-face with the boss.
“Is he gone?”
“For now.” Joel glanced over his shoulder. “He’ll be back eventually for his ride.” He passed the keys to her.
“I wish that was the only reason for him to come back.” She stared across the parking lot, probably hoping the bastard would fade into the darkness never to be seen again.
“You okay?” The question wasn’t necessary. He could see that she was far from okay, but she had no way of knowing he understood far too keenly the unappealing facts of her financial and personal situations.
She shrugged, threw the bar towel over her shoulder. “I’d be a lot better if my security hadn’t bailed on me. That really blows.”
Joel made a show of considering the idea for a moment. “Maybe it is my lucky night.”
Her eyebrows shot up in skepticism. “Look, mister, your pickup lines will have to get a lot better than what I’ve heard so far for you to get lucky.” She looked him up and down. “Packaging isn’t everything.”
Joel laughed. “I wasn’t referring to that kind of luck, ma’am.”
Her cheeks flushed. She hitched a thumb toward the swinging doors. “I have to get back in there. Without someone keeping an eye on the crowd, anything could happen.”
She had no idea. The Kingston men were just the beginning of her troubles. As frustrating as things were for her at the moment, he hated to eventually be the one to let her know that it was going to get a lot worse before it got better.
He gave her a nod. “If you decide to hire a new bouncer, let me know. I’m in the market for a new job.”
Joel tipped his hat to her and stepped down from the walkway. He’d taken another two strides when she called out to him.
“How can I get in touch with you?”
He turned to face her, backed up another step. “I’m right here.” He shrugged. “I’ll probably be back tomorrow night.”
“You’d have to fill out an application.”
He paused.
For a lady who wanted to play it tough, she looked damned vulnerable at the moment. But then he knew why. Couldn’t blame her for feeling that and more.
“I’d need references,” she tacked on.
“I can handle that.”
She hitched her head toward the door then disappeared inside. Joel followed, enjoying the view. Wasn’t often that the backside was every bit as gorgeous as the front, but this lady was definitely all-around gorgeous.
His job was to protect all of her and he finally had his in. Being employed at the High Noon would make his work a whole lot easier.
She skirted the end of the bar and poured that bourbon he’d had to walk away from. When she set the drink on the counter, she grabbed a pen and a napkin and placed them in front of him.
He glanced from the napkin and pen to her.
“The application. Just jot down the usual stuff. Name, address, phone number and references. I need their numbers, too. Use both sides if necessary.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Joel scrawled the requested info on the napkin. He flipped it over and provided a couple of names with numbers he retrieved from his cell. When he’d added the final digit, he passed it to her.
“Anything else?”
She studied the information. “When can you start?”
He grinned. “I thought I already had.”
She tried to look serious but one of those breath-stealing smiles peeked past her cautionary business persona. “All right. The pay is a percentage of the night’s take. It’s nothing to brag about some nights, but others make up for it.”
“Works for me.”
“I will call your references,” she reminded him.
“Then you’ll really be impressed.”
She held his gaze a moment. “We’ll see.”
Chapter Two
Monday, May 27th, 1:00 a.m.
Laney perched on the edge of her son’s bed and watched him sleep all snuggled up with his bear. He’d had that ragged old thing since he was born. It was the first toy she’d bought her child. She’d walked into the gift shop and immediately been drawn to the cute brown bear with its red bow tie. Made her feel safe and it seemed to do the same thing for Buddy. As silly as that sounded.
Regret settled heavily onto her shoulders. These late nights were hard on him. She had hoped to have a good solid staff on board before school started in late August so she could get her boy home at a decent hour, but with Dekker’s abrupt departure that was looking less and less likely.
Last week it had been two waitresses.
What was she going to do?
Getting home after midnight on Sunday night—a school night come this fall—was not going to work. She had to get a good team in place soon.
Terry was running off all her best help. The police would do nothing for fear of a backlash from his father. How did you fight that kind of trouble?
After all these years, why in hell did he have to hunt her down now? She hadn’t seen the bastard but twice in five years. Both times he’d been looking for a place to crash when things got too hot for him in Houston. Which generally meant his father had gotten fed up and decided to actually act like a father. Too little too late, unfortunately for both Terry and her.
She’d let him fool her the first time, but not the second. He’d been furious when she wouldn’t let him into the little apartment she’d had at the time or into her bed. The Kingston men weren’t used to hearing no for an answer.
They weren’t kids anymore. The time for playing games was over. She had a home and a business, as well as a son about to start school. She had responsibilities that needed her full attention and her best efforts. Terry needed to grow up.
Laney might have gotten a rough start with her life, but she was a quick learner. She was a bit of a sap but she was no dummy. The idea of allowing her mistakes to damage her son’s future hurt too much to even think about.
She tucked the covers around her baby, gave him a kiss and checked the window by his bed. Locked, shade drawn. Relieved the day was mostly done, she made her way to the kitchen. There hadn’t been time for even a five-minute break tonight, which was a good thing for her bank account. Now, however, her stomach was demanding attention.
As she took sandwich fixings from the fridge and deposited them on the worn wooden counter of her makeshift island, she considered that tomorrow she had to hire at least one of the new waitresses she needed. And she’d have to check the references on her new security guy.
Her fingers slowed in their work. Joel Hayden had been hanging around most of the week. One of the waitresses had told her he’d recently gotten laid off from his work as a bodyguard at some swanky security company that had closed its doors. Jobs were tough to come by these days and he’d opted to take a break from Houston’s big-city noise and mayhem. Beaumont, he insisted to the waitress who was clearly enamored with him, fit the bill.
Part of her couldn’t help thinking that it was not a coincidence that he hailed from Houston. Terry and his family were Houstonians. But, after the way Hayden had rousted her ex out of the saloon, she figured that wasn’t very likely. Unless the whole scene had been staged.
Damn. She hadn’t thought of that until now. Great. Something else to worry about. Maybe she’d do some checking beyond his references. Google him or something.
After stuffing two slices of bread with ham, cheese, mayo and tomato, she grabbed a beer and found her favorite spot in the living room. Her little corner on the sofa. Most of the living room served as a play area for Buddy. He had his Legos in one corner. His game station in another. And miscellaneous toys in yet another. At five, the kid was already more organized than most adults. He kept Laney on the straight and narrow when it came to clutter.
He was so smart that he scared her sometimes. Not in a bad way, though. Her biggest fear was that she would never be able to provide him with the opportunities he deserved. College tuition was outrageous. She had already started saving for that but it wasn’t much to speak of. She had thirteen years and so far her math was way off reaching the necessary sum.
“That plan’s really holding together,” she muttered. Between the walk-in cooler in the High Noon’s kitchen going out and that fancy automatic toaster oven Tatum had insisted he needed to make sandwiches folks would love, the almighty dollar was tough to hang on to.
Laney sighed as she settled into her corner. She clicked the remote and set the station to a movie channel that featured classic love stories. What could she say? She had to get her happily-ever-afters from somewhere. And there was nothing like getting lost in a sappy movie after a long, hard night at the High Noon.
Truthfully, she couldn’t complain. Her life had sucked for a while after her parents died. The accident had devastated her entire life. Just a ten-year-old kid with no relatives to take her in. Foster care hadn’t been so bad, but Laney had. She’d been a pain in the butt until she was eighteen and then she’d been an idiot.
As stupid as she was and as many mistakes as she had made, she had a beautiful son because of at least one of those errors in judgment. She couldn’t regret Buddy.
Man, she hadn’t realized how starved she was. Something as simple as a ham and cheese sandwich shouldn’t have a girl moaning but Laney had learned enjoying the simple things in life came with the single-mom territory.
As a single mom and a business owner, there was rarely any time left for a social life. Hayden’s image tried to nudge its way into her thoughts.
Hayden was business. She had to keep that fact firmly in front of her. He had trouble written all over that sexy frame.
She gave herself another fifteen minutes of me time before reluctantly moving on to the other chores that would not be put off. Laundry, dishes. Forget about picking up around the house. She was way too exhausted.
Her hodgepodge kitchen wasn’t exactly state-of-the-art. Far from it actually. She’d spent the past two years scrounging for castoffs from folks remodeling their kitchens. Few of the cabinets matched; none of the appliances were the same color or from the same decade, but they all had one thing in common—they worked! Even Tatum saw the beauty in her vision when it came to getting that toaster oven secondhand.
The vinyl floor tiles were of a mixed variety as well, all leftovers from those same remodeling ventures. But her prized find was the old butcher’s chopping-block stand that she used as a center island to ground the assorted eras she’d converged in the room. The island didn’t sit level and the surface was beat all to hell and back, but still she cherished it.
She’d managed to replace all the broken windows in the house, again with castoffs from those moving to more energy-efficient choices. She’d painted the eighty-year-old wood siding herself. She’d painted the whole house as a matter of fact. Looking at it now made her proud even if she wasn’t likely to be featured in House Beautiful.
The saloon was a similar project. The building and five acres she’d gotten for a song at a tax sell-off. Someone had abandoned the place and Laney had grabbed it, using her measly savings to purchase it flat-out and do the necessary renovations. She’d talked the president of a small local independent bank into taking a risk and lending her the money on her newly remodeled house so she could buy and renovate the saloon.
That had worked great at first. Problem was, she hadn’t seen the nice older gentleman’s bad side until it was too late. The loan had been on a balloon note which wasn’t a problem at the time. Time flew and now that note came due in a mere ninety days. He had just informed her that he wouldn’t be renewing the loan so the full amount was due in three months.
If she didn’t pay, she would lose her business and her home. Worry crushed down on her shoulders.
Last month’s receipts had looked stellar, and she had felt confident she had proof of steady-enough income to get a new loan elsewhere. But now the trouble with Terry and good workers walking had started a trend in falling revenue.
Many of her regulars were complaining that the guy made them uncomfortable. With all the wackos shooting up restaurants and the like, she could understand. But the last thing she needed was a drop in cash flow as the drop-dead date on getting a new loan approached.
She needed the books to look good. Laney choked back the anxiety and reminded herself that there was still time.
With the washing machine churning and the dishes done, she walked through the house to ensure the windows and doors were locked. Before Terry reappeared, she left her windows open at night during good weather. That was a risk she couldn’t take with him lurking around. She couldn’t trust him as far as she could throw him.
Keeping her .32 handy once Buddy was asleep was another new addition to her nightly routine. She hated that feeling of being afraid. She’d lived it too many times. Seemed just when life was looking up something else came along and rained on her parade.
She hesitated at the front window, one hand on the paper shade ready to drag it down. Her house sat a good fifty yards off the road and there were no streetlights on these old county roads, but the moon was big and bright tonight, giving her a clear view of the road that ran in front of her house.
A Jeep had parked on the shoulder directly in front of her house. With the convertible top removed, she could see that someone was behind the wheel but she couldn’t begin to determine whether the driver was male or female. Definitely wasn’t Terry’s fancy import. Since his keys were at the High Noon, she could safely assume it wasn’t him.
Unless he’d hitched or borrowed a ride from some jerk friend of his.
There was no logical reason for the driver to be stopped in front of her house unless he’d run out of gas. Since the closest convenience store was nearly all the way in town, a long ways from these twisting, winding roads, it wasn’t smart to joyride out here without at least half a tank.
Evidently the guy didn’t mind being seen since a few yards to the right or left of his position and her view would have been blocked by the trees in her yard. Not scary but definitely unsettling.
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