AdonisinTexas

Adonis in Texas

Calista Fox

Book 2 in the Rugged and Risque series.

Ginger owns a sensuous lingerie
boutique in Wilder, Texas, and though her steady customers are thrilled her
doors are still open, the reverend’s wife would prefer otherwise. Although
Ginger isn’t about to kowtow to the pressure, she invites a different kind of
trouble into her life when an unexpected man from the past returns to Wilder.

Ryan’s homecoming is marred by
having to explain to his aunt and uncle that he’s applying for a position as a
deputy with the sheriff’s office, rather than working at the church.
Complicating family matters is his instant and passionate attraction to Ginger
that immediately burns the rumor mill to the ground.

The preacher’s nephew and the
lingerie princess need to withstand all the talk in town—and Ryan’s dangerous
job to turn their scorching-hot lust into everlasting love.

Adonis in Texas

Calista Fox

Chapter One

“Lord have mercy,” Ginger Monroe groaned. “It’s the second
coming of the
GCB
.” She caught a glimpse of the Reverend Bain’s wife,
Lydia, and her disciples as they stalked down the sidewalk with purpose and a
misguided air of authority. The “Good Christian Bitches” hadn’t lasted long on
TV, but these less glamorous ones were still going strong in Wilder, Texas.

Ginger reached for the clothes rack standing in front of her
store, about to pull the display back into her lingerie shop, located on a
corner of Main Street. But her friend, Liza Brooks, halted her with a hand on
her shoulder.

“Uh-huh,” she said. “You are
not
kowtowing to those
women.”

With a sigh, Ginger asked, “Are you forgetting Lydia Bain
set my last shop on fire and destroyed my entire inventory?”

“How could I forget?” Liza replied in a dry tone. “She
nearly killed us both because we were trapped in the attic.”

“It was an accident,” Jess Mills reminded them. She’d had
lunch with Liza before they’d stopped by to see Ginger this afternoon. Jess was
always the voice of reason, though she was no more a fan of the reverend’s
high-and-mighty wife than the other two were.

“Regardless,” Ginger said, “she’s still publicly denouncing
my wares.”

“Not many people are listening these days,” Liza commented.
“We’ve talked about this. Your sales are up in the store and they’re off the
charts online. The two of us confronting Lydia after the fire and not backing
down thereafter made a remarkable impact on your bottom line. Stick to your
guns, girlfriend.”

“You have a point.” But the mere sight of Lydia Bain made
Ginger’s shoulders bunch as tension skittered through her.

The reverend’s Plain Jane wife, who wore no makeup or
jewelry other than her simple gold wedding band, was dressed in her usual
drab-gray attire. Her most notable feature was her shiny brown hair, styled in
a chic bob. Despite being a genius hairdresser—owning the only salon in
town—she was as humdrum as they came.

With a smug look on her face, she and her three equally
plain and conservatively dressed female companions approached Ginger and her
friends.

“Good afternoon, ladies,” Liza said in her chipper voice,
which still held a slight New York accent, despite her full immersion in Texas
culture over the past year. Upon her spectacular, whirlwind arrival, she’d
instantly become Ginger’s best friend and business advisor—not to mention her
most frequent customer. Liza had been the one to suggest an online store when
Ginger was about to lose the lease on her boutique due to dismal sales that had
been a direct result of Lydia’s crusade to keep lingerie out of Wilder
bedrooms. And certainly off its sidewalks.

“Good afternoon to you too,” Lydia said in her haughty tone
as her gaze indiscreetly swept over Liza, taking in her flashy emerald-colored
dress and fancy designer shoes. The flicker of disapproval in her gaze was
unmistakable. To Ginger, she added, “I’m pleased to see you’ve reopened your
shop.”

Ginger resisted the urge to take a step away from the
reverend’s wife, lest God strike her down right there on the spot for that
whopper of a lie. Must be Lydia felt being polite exonerated her from such a
blatant mistruth.

“That’s kind of you,” Ginger told her, forcing her teeth not
to grind together. Lydia Bain was the equivalent of fingernails on a
chalkboard. Her existence made Ginger cringe.

“I wonder if you might want to keep your displays inside
your boutique,” Lydia suggested in her clipped voice. “A little discretion goes
a long way here in Wilder.”

“Not this again,” Liza grumbled beside her. “Really, Lydia,
everyone else is allowed to have displays on the walkway. It’s not illegal for
Ginger to do so as well, nor is it a sin. These nighties are quite tasteful.
Nothing kinky or overly revealing here.”

Lydia bristled visibly. Ignoring Liza’s observation, she
said, “I was hoping to appeal to your good Christian nature, Ginger.”

“Christian women need panties too, Lydia.”

The reverend’s wife gasped in apparent shock over Ginger’s
sudden nerve, and possibly over the way she squared her shoulders and lifted
her chin a notch, staring Lydia down as she followed Liza’s advice about not
kowtowing to the Prude Brigade.

“Come along, Lydia.” Martha Hinton, Sunday school teacher
and wife of the town’s ophthalmologist, ushered her friend away, a look of
disgust on her face as she eyed the satin-and-lace garments hanging on Ginger’s
display rack. “Off to church we go. We’ll pray for these girls.”

Liza let out a low snort as the four women rushed off.

Jess grinned. “Now that’s how to take a stand, my friend.
You keep at it, Ginger.”

Admittedly, it felt good not to let Lydia bully her. But
while she’d won today’s battle, she doubted she’d win the war. One might think
a reverend’s wife would be gracious and lovely to everyone in her husband’s
congregation, but the woman had her own agenda and her own ideas of how people
should live in Wilder.

With a sigh, Ginger said, “I’m sure Lydia will tell her
husband there needs to be a new policy regarding sidewalk displays downtown,
and Jonathan will put it before the City Council.”

“Let him,” Liza retorted in a confident tone. “Jack’s got a
seat on the Council now and he’s a strong voice for equality, with a lot of
staunch supporters, I might add.”

“Praise the Lord for that,” Jess quipped. “I’m so glad he
ran, and that you led his campaign. I shudder to think of the distressed state
Wilder would be in if he hadn’t stepped in to help turn things around.
Businesses were closing much too quickly because of the reverend’s morality
movement.”

Case in point, Liza’s fiancé, Jack Wade, had become the sole
saloon owner in town after Reverend Bain and his constituents had limited how
late alcohol could be served on Friday and Saturday nights, and had banned
sales altogether on Sundays. Those laws, and a few others, had put a
stranglehold on the town and had wreaked havoc on its economy.

While Jonathan Bain had toned down his
saints-vs.-the-sinners platform, his wife had not. Despite a few months’
reprieve from her holier-than-thou attitude following the fire in Ginger’s
shop, which had occurred when Lydia accidentally knocked over some candles in
her shocked and appalled state after getting a gander at Ginger’s window
display, Lydia had bounced back. And was as self-righteous as ever.

“We all have to stand our ground,” Jess continued. “But it’s
well worth it. Since things have picked up for everyone financially, my flower
shop is thriving and George’s business is booming.”

Jess’ husband wasn’t the only dentist in Wilder, and he’d
suffered recently when families had tightened their purse strings. Liza worked
for Jess and Ginger knew it was a huge relief she could stay on Jess’ payroll.
Liza sweeping in from Manhattan and shaking things up had been the catalyst for
people opening their eyes and making changes in town, and neither Ginger nor
Jess wanted her efforts to be for naught.

Ginger had struggled herself and she was eternally grateful
for her friends’ unwavering support and patronage.

“Looks like you have customers,” Liza said with a smile. Two
women strolled over to admire Ginger’s sensuous window displays and Liza added,
“We’ll get out of your hair. Don’t forget, we have reservations for five people
tonight at Pietro’s. Unless you want to make it six…”

As Liza wagged her eyebrows suggestively, Ginger scoffed at
her. “Please. Between Lydia’s rants about me and the limited selection of
eligible bachelors in this town, I haven’t dated in years and have absolutely
no prospects to make tonight’s dinner a triple date.”

Sadly
. But Ginger had resigned herself to her dismal
dating situation long ago. She focused solely on her business and her
friendships.

“Maybe we should all take a weekend trip to San Antonio or
Austin,” Jess mused. “See what the single scene looks like for you there.”

Ginger rolled her eyes. “No fixing me up.” She was adamant
about that. If she eventually met the right man, it’d be because they’d spotted
each other across a crowded room and had formed an instant connection. Not
because one of her friends had thrown them together.

But lust at first sight wasn’t a theory she subscribed to,
so she brushed off that little fantasy.

Her gaze shifted to the women who’d wandered into her shop.
“I have a sale to make,” she said in an optimistic tone. “See you tonight.”

She left her display rack right where it was and entered the
boutique. As it turned out, the two women purchased several items and Ginger
had more customers throughout the day.

As the sun began to set, she tidied up the array of panties
and bras on the large, round wooden tables in the center of the store. She’d
had to replace the ones that had quickly gone up in flames during the fire and
had chosen to venture away from the antiques she’d previously used for
displays—having a fear of how overly flammable old, delicate wood could be.
Finding heavier, sturdier pieces with a rich cherry wood finish had added a
touch of sophistication to her enterprise.

Though she no longer lit candles in her shop, she did use
the waxless, battery-operated variety to keep the mood sensual and inviting.
Tall dressers, also in cherry wood, were filled with sexy lingerie, samples
dangling out of the opened drawers to entice customers to rummage through them.

The space she had now was twice the size of her old shop and
less rent, given that Cooper Denton, the owner of the entire block, had taken
pity on her after the fire and had offered her a killer deal. That was the nice
thing about small towns. Despite the push-and-pull created by the Bains and
their followers, most of the people in Wilder enjoyed a close-knit community
and would do anything they could to help a neighbor in need.

Ginger had never imagined leaving—she’d suffer through the
hassle Lydia Bain created in order to stay. Unfortunately, she spent her nights
alone because there really weren’t many bachelors from which to choose and
she’d refused to settle. She had her dream, though. She’d wanted the lingerie
shop for years.

Stepping outside, she found the globes of the old-fashioned
streetlamps glowing softly as twilight descended upon Wilder. She gripped the
metal frame of her sidewalk display and wheeled it toward the front door. A low
whistle caught her attention and she glanced up to find two men striding toward
her, both a bit unsteady on their feet.

Ah, the rodeo was in was town and that always meant a few
rowdies loitered about in between competitions and events.

The tall, dark-haired man on the left had his hands stuffed
in the front pockets of his jeans. The burly redheaded one held a small paper
bag with an aluminum can inside, the rim peeking out of the sack. Likely a
beer.

“Damn, you are a pretty little thing,” the dark-haired guy
said as he sidled up next to her.

Tugging on her rack, Ginger rushed inside, only to be
followed by both men before she could lock the door behind her.

A prickle of anxiety crept in on her. She actually was a
“little thing” at five-foot-two out of heels and a size two when she didn’t
skip any meals.

“Sorry, I’m closing for the night,” she told them.

“Even better,” the tall one said, sizing her up.

Meanwhile, the redhead set aside his can and inspected her
merchandise. He gave her a lascivious look as he said, “I bet you’d look hot in
these.” A black-lace thong dangled from the end of one beefy finger. “How about
you model for us?”

Both men slurred their words when they spoke, making Ginger
even more nervous.

“There’s a dance tonight at the fairgrounds,” she told them,
“part of the rodeo. You should head over there. The band ought to be starting
any minute now.”

“Why don’t you come with us?” the tall one suggested, his
gaze a challenging one, but there was also a hint of something dark and
foreboding in his beady brown eyes.

“Sorry, I have plans.” She backed away, hoping to reach the
large desk where she wrapped purchases in tissue and completed sales. A phone
sat on the corner of the desk, and she had a niggling suspicion it’d be a good
idea to call 911.

But both men seemed to know the direction in which her
thoughts ran. They split up and stalked toward her from both sides, their
expressions suddenly tense and determined.

She lifted a hand in an attempt to warn them off and said,
“Seriously. Store’s closed. Please leave.”

The dark-haired man shook his head. “I don’t think so,
honey.” His gaze shifted to the cash sitting on the desk behind her. She’d
tallied the day’s receipts before retrieving her sidewalk display and the money
was set to go into a bank deposit bag.

The redhead said to his cohort, “You lost bad at the races
going on this morning.”

Swallowing down the hard lump of fear that swelled in her
throat, Ginger squared her shoulders, the way she had with Lydia Bain earlier.
It was false bravado this time around, but worth a shot. “You really need to
leave. My husband will be here to pick me up at any moment and he’s a mammoth
of a man. You don’t want to tangle with him.”

Her lie gave them both pause. But only for a second. The
tall one inched closer to her as he continued to eye the cash.

Finally, she said, “If you want the money, fine. Take it and
go.”

“Maybe we’ll take you with us too,” he said.

Suddenly terrified, Ginger turned and lunged toward the
desk, snatching the receiver of the phone. But the burly redhead moved quicker
than anticipated and he tackled her, sending her flying backward until they
landed on the settee in the corner, rocking the dainty furniture. She let out a
shrill cry for help, but he clamped a large hand over her mouth to silence her.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the other man shove fistfuls of bills
into his pockets.
Her
hard-earned money.