Читать книгу: «Cowboy to the Core»
To be blunt, this cowboy turned her on.
Hard bodied. Unruly brown hair that crawled into the collar of his shirt. And then there was that rugged jawline and those whiskey-colored eyes that seemed to see right through her. His voice had grown husky. She swallowed hard, suddenly all too aware of how close he was standing. The air between them crackled with tension and sparks of desire. He leaned nearer and his lips brushed hers: a feathered touch that was over all too quickly, but resonated through her whole body.
Her pulse skyrocketed as she slipped inside the door and closed it behind her. The touching of their lips could hardly count as a kiss at all, but it left her feeling as if she were floating two feet above the floor.
She’d witnessed an attempted murder and trusted a stranger with the most closely held secret of her life. Yet here she was awed by the mere touch of his lips on hers. That might well be the strangest and most frightening event of the day.
Cowboy to the Core
by
Joanna Wayne
JOANNA WAYNE was born and raised in Shreveport, Louisiana, and received her undergraduate and graduate degrees from LSU-Shreveport. She moved to New Orleans in 1984, and it was there that she attended her first writing class and joined her first professional writing organization. Her first novel was published in 1994.
Now, dozens of published books later, Joanna has made a name for herself as being on the cutting edge of romantic suspense in both series and single-title novels. She has been on the Waldenbooks bestseller list for romance and has won many industry awards. She is a popular speaker at writing organizations and local community functions and has taught creative writing at the University of New Orleans Metropolitan College.
She currently resides in a small community forty miles north of Houston, Texas, with her husband. Though she still has many family and emotional ties to Louisiana, she loves living in the Lone Star state. You may write Joanna at P.O. Box 265, Montgomery, Texas 77356.
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To my good friend and golfing buddy, Sharon, who spent a marvelous day with me at the Renaissance Festival and took dozens of pictures to help capture the sights and spirit of the exciting event. We had a blast! And an apology to the handsome, skilled and no doubt noble jousters who entertained us so magnificently. Their performance was the high point of the day.
Dear Reader,
I joined the great Intrigue team just in time for the tenth anniversary with the publication of my very first novel. Now, fifteen years and more than forty books later, I’m as excited about writing Intrigue books as ever. So, thanks, readers, and may we all stick around for another twenty-five years of great Intrigues and making memories.
You can write to me at Joanna Wayne, PO Box 852, Montgomery, Texas 77356, or e-mail me from my website at www.joannawayne.com.
Happy reading!
Joanna Wayne
Prologue
The woman’s voluminous skirt and layers of petticoats swished about her ankles. Her auburn hair was piled on top of her head, loose curls dancing about her cheeks and wispy tendrils escaping down the back of her neck.
A queen, dressed for a coronation ball, her jade velvet bodice trimmed in exquisite white lace that edged her cleavage. Or perhaps not royalty, but a courtesan with seductive wiles to please and excite the king’s men.
A knight stepped into view. The air became electric as the two turned to face each other. The woman’s eyes were blazing but shadowed with fear. The man’s expression was hidden beneath the metallic armor that shielded his head and face, yet an aura of evil surrounded him. He moved toward her.
She tried to back away, but there was no time. In one quick movement, he pulled an ivory-handled dagger from the sheath at his side and aimed the point of the long, slender blade at the woman’s heart.
The woman’s scream penetrated the night as a rush of crimson spilled onto the white lace and pooled in the rich green fabric of her blouson.
Choking, Dani forced herself to the woman’s aid. Their gazes locked, and Dani’s blood ran cold.
The cinnamon-brown eyes staring back at her were her own.
Dani Baxter jerked to sitting position, her breathing sharp, painful gasps and her pulse racing. She was fully awake now, but the images remained seared into her brain. Everything had seemed so real.
Her psychic experiences appeared as a dream at times, but this couldn’t have been one. Not only did she not know the people but they weren’t even from this century. The telepathic connection would be pointless since she could do nothing to change the situation. Her infrequent visions never worked that way.
It was just a nightmare, no doubt brought on by fatigue and the countless hours she’d spent looking at spring formal wear lines in New York last week. Work-related stress. It happened to everyone. It didn’t mean a thing, yet her breath continued to sting as if she were outside on a frigid morning.
She was overreacting. She hadn’t had one of the dreaded visions in more than a year. And she‘d never had one as violent as this.
She checked the clock. 2:00 a.m. She needed sleep and water. Her throat felt parched.
Tossing back the sheet, she threw her legs over the side of the bed and ground her bare feet against the chilly slats of the polished hardwood floors. She tiptoed past her daughter’s door so as not to wake her and padded down the stairs to the second-floor kitchen of the town house.
The dream continued to haunt her. It was the eyes, she decided. They’d thrown her, but the woman hadn’t been her. The face had never registered, and the hair was definitely different. The nightmare woman’s was a deep auburn, long enough to pile on top of her head. It was curly as well. Dani’s hair was brown, with just a touch of copper highlights. Even those came from the salon. And she wore it in a chin-length bob, professional-looking and easy to manage.
So get over it and get some sleep. No marauding knight in full armor is going to plunge a dagger into a woman’s chest in my swank downtown complex.
Dani drank her water and went back to her crisp sheets and plump pillows. Tomorrow would be another very busy day at Duran Muton, and there was a PTA meeting tomorrow night. She needed her rest. And for the woman in green to quietly slip back in time.
Chapter One
One month later
“Mom, may I invite Katie for a sleepover tomorrow night?”
“Katie came for a sleepover last Saturday night.”
“What’s that got to do with it?”
“Nothing, I suppose. I just thought you and I might go out to dinner tomorrow evening and catch a movie.”
“Katie could go with us. There’s a cool new comedy that we‘re dying to see.”
Dani truly hated comedies unless they were liberally sprinkled with romance. “Go ahead and invite her. We’ll go to dinner, and then I’ll drop you two off at the cinema.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Celeste rewarded Dani’s acquiescence with a quick hug. “You’re the greatest.”
But not so great that her preteen daughter wanted to spend time with her. Dani went back to cleaning off her desk. She kept on top of everything at work, but she tended to let the nonurgent home office duties slide until they threatened to overflow their boundaries.
She slit open the next envelope—an application for a credit card that claimed to do everything except pay itself. She fed it into the shredder and picked up a postcard inviting her to an open house for a new day spa. She scanned it and dropped it into file thirteen. She did the same with a donation request from a charity she’d never heard of.
Which left a gold-bordered envelope staring her in the face. Cripes! The wedding invitation. She’d meant to send her regrets to Bethany Sue weeks ago.
Oh, well, the bride-to-be had probably figured out by now she wasn’t coming. Bethany might already be married and heading for divorce court if this union followed the way of her first two marriages.
She pulled the invitation from the envelope. There were two silhouettes in the muted background. A woman in a flowing Elizabethan gown. A knight in full armor.
Dani’s heart slammed against the walls of her chest as the images from her murderous dream came back to haunt her in vivid details. The rich green of the fabric. The crimson pool of blood.
Get a hold of yourself, Dani Baxter. It was only a stupid nightmare.
She swallowed hard and read the invitation. The nuptials joining Bethany Sue Graves and Arnold Pickering would be celebrated at the Texas Renaissance Festival in Plantersville, Texas.
Dani checked the date. This Sunday. Two days away. The ceremony was at ten in the morning, but there was to be a prewedding dinner celebration on the festival grounds tomorrow night. The reply card said regrets only.
Regrets only? No one did that, especially when there was a dinner involved. Well, no one except Bethany Sue. She’d always followed a different drummer. Actually, she usually followed the sax player.
Dani and Bethany had been friends from seventh grade through high school. Bethany had been one of the few girls at their junior high who didn’t make Dani feel like a freak because her grandmother was a known psychic. At one time they’d been as close as Celeste and her friend Katie were now. They’d shared too many secrets and important moments to count.
They seldom communicated now except for an occasional e-mail or quick phone call. Their lives had gone in vastly different directions. Still, it would be great to see her again—just not this weekend. There was nothing to do but try to reach her by phone and apologize for forgetting to send her regrets in a timely manner.
Dropping the invitation back to the pile, Dani pulled out her cell phone, found Bethany’s number and pushed the call button. Bethany answered on the third ring, the excitement spilling into her hello.
“Is that wedding jitters I hear?”
“Dani, where are you? Arnie and I were just talking about you. He can’t wait to meet you. And, no, there’s not a jitter in my body.”
Which just went to show how naive Bethany still was after two failed marriages. “Great. I couldn’t be happier for you. Does Arnie know how lucky he is?”
“He must. I tell him all the time. So where are you?”
“In Austin. I’m afraid I’ve committed a terrible social faux pas. I should have called as soon as I got the invitation, and, unfortunately, I just realized the reply specified regrets only.”
“And in your case regrets are not acceptable. I can’t get married without you here.”
“I’d love to be there, but I can’t possibly make it this weekend. Celeste has plans and…”
“Celeste will willingly cancel her plans. Did you not even read the note I stuck in the envelope with your invitation?”
Actually she hadn’t even seen the note. She turned the envelope upside down, and the note and accompanying map fell out.
“You must bring Celeste. She’ll love the festival and the party. There will be mimes and jesters and all sorts of courtly entertainment. And, like I said in the note, bring a date, as well. You can even let Celeste bring a friend. The more the merrier.”
“I’m not dating anyone, and I haven’t made reservations. I doubt I could even get a room in…” She checked the invitation again. “In Plantersville.” Wherever that was.
“There aren’t any places to stay in Plantersville. It’s a tiny, rural town. But they just had a cancellation at the bed-and-breakfast near Magnolia where we’re staying. If you call right now, you can get it.
“You will so love the place, Dani. Weather permitting, they serve breakfast on this magnificent veranda. The phone number is on the back of the map I sent you along with that of some motels in The Woodlands.”
“I really wish I could be there, but…”
“No excuses. You simply have to come. And it’s good you’re not bringing a date. I have this terrific man I want you to meet.”
Dani groaned. “That is not a selling point.” Still, a weekend getaway to a Renaissance festival might be fun for her and Celeste. And she did hate to disappoint Bethany Sue.
She did a quick study of the enclosed map. The festival grounds were a few miles off Highway 105, northwest of Houston, probably a good three-hour drive from Austin. “What time is the party tomorrow night?”
“Eight, but come early in the day. You’ll want time to enjoy the festival. There’s so much to see and do.”
“Exactly what does one wear to a Renaissance wedding?”
“Something incredibly sexy and fit for a queen’s ball in the Elizabethan period. But don’t worry, you can buy or rent outfits at the festival. Men’s, women’s and children’s, so you don’t have to pack a thing.”
An Elizabethan ball gown. She didn’t need this now.
“So can I count on you?” Bethany pleaded.
Dani swallowed hard. Being a covert psychic was bad enough. Letting a nightmare dictate her life was sick. “Okay, we’ll be there.”
Now who was afraid of a big, bad dream?
MARCUS ABBOT TUGGED HIS weathered work Stetson a bit lower on his forehead. “Care to repeat that, Cutter Martin, ‘cause I could have sworn you just said you want me to babysit a couple of spoiled Hollywood brats.”
“Just for a day. Lance Harper is in Houston filming a new movie, and he needs a bodyguard for his two daughters while they’re attending the Renaissance festival. It’s just down the road. You’ve probably seen the ads for it around town.”
“I’ve seen the propaganda.” Marcus leaned against the fence post and stared down the snorting bull on the other side of the barbed wire. “This is not the kind of work I signed on for.”
“It’s protection,” Cutter said. “That’s what our name says. Investigation and Protection.”
“Nothing in there about babysitting.” And nothing like the assignment he and Cutter Martin had just completed. They’d gone into Mexico and located and rescued a teenage girl who’d disappeared while on vacation with her family.
Turned out she’d been kidnapped and was being sold into sexual slavery. Bringing her home safely had rivaled the exhilaration of completing a successful mission as a Navy SEAL. Babysitting Lance Harper’s kids while they played in a historic playground wouldn’t.
But Marcus wasn’t a naval commando anymore. He might as well get used to that. He missed the military life a lot more than he’d expected, but he had a new goal. And if it took babysitting to reach it, so be it. Besides, a man couldn’t ask for a better boss than Cutter.
“So when do I acquire the Hollywood horrors?”
“Not until next Saturday, but since the festival is only open on weekends, I figured you’d want to tour the grounds by yourself this weekend to get the lay of the land.”
Marcus nodded. That was a definite. He’d never go out on assignment without adequate fact gathering. His mind jumped back to the mission he’d faced just before he’d finished his last tour of duty. Men’s sweat and fetid earth had clogged his nostrils. Danger had hung in the heavy air like a blanket of oppressive smoke. He’d always had a sixth sense for danger. That night was no exception.
He shook his mind to clear it before he became lost in the past. “Is that it?”
“Yeah, except that Linney wants to know if you’ll join us for dinner tonight.”
“Pasta?”
Cutter laughed. “How’d you guess?”
Easy. It was practically the only thing she could cook. Well, that and canned soup. Not that Cutter cared. The guy was so in love with his new wife that he lit up like a round of firepower when she walked into the room.
Marcus had known that feeling once. It had turned on him and bitten him in the…No. Who was he kidding? He’d never had the kind of relationship Cutter and Linney had. Not much chance he ever would after the way his ex had stomped him into the mud.
Horses and cattle. Maybe even a good dog. Those were things you could count on. That was one of the real advantages of working for Cutter. When they weren’t on duty for the company, they worked on his ranch, the Double M.
“If that’s it, I’ll go back to hauling hay.”
“That’s it.” Cutter swatted at a worrisome horsefly. “I’ll go with you. Got to work up a pasta appetite by seven.”
ODORS OF FUNNEL CAKES, roasting meats and frying fish and chips greeted them the moment they stepped from their car among dozens of other arriving festival patrons. Dani’s mouth watered in spite of the pastries and coffee they’d stopped for en route.
Celeste and Katie hurried ahead of her, their tennis shoes kicking up dust along the well-traveled path that maneuvered among row upon row of parked cars and pickup trucks.
The air sparked with chatter, laughter and an electric excitement among the festival goers, many dressed in elaborate costumes.
They were greeted at the gate by a jovial, middle-aged man dressed in a short red and green skirt over tights. From his looks, he might have ushered them into the king’s court a century ago. Dani was starting to catch the spirit in spite of her earlier reservations.
Once inside what appeared to be the city walls, activity increased dramatically, and her imagination was spurred by the line of fascinating shops and concessions and the number of people in creative costumes. Old England had never had it so good.
Weirdly, she had a strange tingle of anticipation dancing inside her as if something big was going to happen to her this weekend. Maybe Bethany’s friend would turn out to be a winner.
Forget it. There wasn’t a man alive who could tolerate a woman psychic for long, and she would not put herself and Celeste through another divorce to prove that point.
She hurried to keep up with the girls, then slowed to gawk at a voluptuous young woman bulging out of an outfit that consisted mostly of chain mail. The woman posed for a whiskered guy in an Astros cap who was all but salivating as he snapped her picture.
Dani turned to catch sight of Katie and Celeste walking toward a nearby dress shop. They sashayed past a hunky cowboy and disappeared inside. The guy looked out of place. Not because of his worn jeans, scuffed boots and black Stetson. After all, this was Texas. But the recalcitrant grimace on his craggy face made it clear he wasn’t joining in the revelry that surrounded him.
He looked up and caught her staring at him. An unwelcome burn crept to her cheeks as he tipped his hat and traded the frown for a devastating smile. Oh, well, he was probably used to females admiring his blatant virility.
Head high and looking straight ahead, she strode right past him. She followed the sound of girls’ giggling to the back of the shop. Celeste was holding up a low-cut sapphire-blue gown. The padded cups at the top of the lacing could hold a set of double Ds. Celeste had trouble filling out her training bra.
“You’re a little too young to go the wench route,” Dani said.
“You could wear it, Ms. Baxter,” Katie said. “You’d be hot!”
“We’re going to a wedding, not a bawdry bash.” At least she hoped that was the case; Dani had traded hot for sophisticated several years ago, at the same time she’d swapped her cheating husband for single parenthood and a position with Duran Muton.
“How about these?” Dani said, moving to a rack of pastel-hued, ankle-length dresses with puffy sleeves and high-buttoned necklines.
Celeste scrunched her nose as if she smelled a skunk. “I’d look like a kid.”
“You are a kid.”
“Ooh, look at this,” Katie called, her gaze riveted on a handkerchief-layered skirt of various hues of blue and green, topped with a white peasant blouse. It hung on the highest rack, slightly out of reach.
A youthful clerk dressed in knee-high black boots, tights and a clingy, crimson blouson appeared from between the garment racks. Hooking the hanger, she retrieved the outfit so they could get a better look.
“We’re attending a dinner tonight on the grounds and a Renaissance wedding tomorrow morning,” Dani explained. “Do you have any suggestions as to what would be considered appropriate attire?”
“Just about anything from the period will go for the dinner. People get very daring and inventive at those affairs. But fairies, definitely fairies for the girls for the wedding. You’re both so petite. You’ll be adorable nymphs.”
“Adorable?” Celeste groaned.
“You just uttered the kiss of death,” Dani said.
The clerk took a step backward and gave Dani a studied once-over. “I have just the dress for you for the wedding.”
“Nothing too revealing,” Dani said as the clerk hurried away.
Celeste and Katie moved to the rack of fairy dresses, airy confections that came with their own silver wings. Dani sneaked a peek at a cherry-red blouson with exquisite embroidered details, topped by a black leather bustier pulled so tight it was almost as if the big-breasted mannequin didn’t have a waist.
Incredibly sexy. Probably similar to what the cowboy’s girlfriend was trying on while he waited outside. One glimpse of her in that would no doubt wipe the grimace right off his handsome, tanned face.
Impulsively, she scanned the area. The cowboy was nowhere in sight. Irritated at herself for giving the guy a second thought, she went back to perusing a rack of dresses. She held one up in front of the floor-length mirror. Over her shoulder she caught a reflection of a nice-looking man in a blue knit shirt who seemed to be staring at her from around the sexy mannequin.
For a second, she thought he was one of the reps she did business with. On second glance, she realized he wasn’t. His hair was not only darker but he had a lot more of it than the rep. She hung the dress back on the rack and moved on until she heard the clerk’s voice.
“I practically had to pluck it from a customer’s hands, but she didn’t have the figure to wear it anyway. You’ll be a knockout in it.”
Dani turned. Her pulse quickened. Her knees went weak. The luscious frock in the clerk’s hands was almost a dead second for the green gown from her nightmare.
“Is something wrong? Are you ill?”
The clerk’s voice floated above her, distorted by a thick fog that clouded Dani’s mind. Slowly the haze cleared, and the attacking images became sharp and chilling. She struggled to breathe.
“Move back. Give her air.”
Her gaze sought out the voice. The cowboy. She reached out to him as her body crumpled, and she sank into a bloody river of darkness.
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