ANOTHER SUNNY DAY (4 page)

She pulled her long hair over one shoulder and turned her back toward him, da
ring him to refuse. He didn't.

The warmth of his hands burned through the cloth as if it weren't there. Agilely his large fingers loosened the hook, then slowly slid the zipper down, his light touch leavin
g a sensual trail in its wake.

Alarmed, she twisted her head, around and looked up into his face, which was much nearer than she had expected. She felt a rush of his warm breath dancing on her cheek and the sudden tightening of his hands on her shoulders. For a long moment their gazes were locked, his look puzzled and confused, hers searching for the answer to a question she did not know. Strange electric tingles raced through her body, and her heart beat a wild rhythm against her rib cage as she watched his head bend slowly toward her, his lips neari
ng hers . . . almost touching.

Abruptly he moved away, his hands falling from her shoulders as if he, too, had felt the current. He put the distance of the small room between them before stopping. "I stayed to tell you that I requested wake-up calls at seven o'clock in the morning. I'll come by at eight. Wil
l that be all right with you?"

Mutely she nodded, and he left, this time shutting the door firmly behind him. For several seconds Sarah stood alone in the middle of the room, one hand clutching the loose blouse to her chest while the tousled wig still dangled from the other. Tyler Rose definitely had an attitude problem, but she sensed that beneath that brusque, rude exterior he could be a likable person; perhaps, if that strange attraction she had felt a few moments ago was any indication; too likable. It would not be in her best interests or
Sunny's to get involved, even temporarily, with anyone she met during the next week.

A cloud of steam floated from the bathroom, reminding her that she'd left the water running in the shower. With a fresh resolve to carry off this charade without further complications, Sarah finished undressing and hurried back to the shower.

CHAPTER THREE

Sarah had been awake for almost an hour the next morning when the telephone rang with her wake-up call. It had taken her almost that long to restore the wig to something resembling a hairpiece. Somehow she knew Sunny would not appreciate any publicity she got if she looked as if she had a very sick poodle
on her head.

After a wistful thought about the comfortable faded jeans she usually wore, Sarah chose another of
Sunny's costumes from the garment bag. The rest of the week she would wear designer jeans with a fancy blouse, but for her first appearance she thought it appropriate to make a grand entrance.

This outfit was a bright blue-green almost the same shade as her eyes. Rhinestones were sprinkled in a starburst pattern on the back and front yokes with a long, thin silver fringe shimmering below the double stitching and hanging from both cuffs. The material itself was a soft satin, with the tight pants of a matching spandex. Silver boots hugged her trim ankles, and a dainty silver-gray cowboy hat made more to complement the outfit than for practicality sat cocked saucily on the golden curls, a slim silver cord tightened under
her chin to keep it in place.

Tyler tried unsuccessfully to hide his surprise when she answered the door immediately after his knock, already dressed and ready to go at eight o'clock. After a polite but reserved "Morning" he loaded her bags in the Mercedes's trunk and h
eld the car door open for her.

"I hope your room was adequate," he stated coolly as they pulled out of the parking lot and drove through the small downtown section of Sealy. "Of course, it wasn't like the Hilton where you usually stay, but it was new and clean and
the best Seally has to offer."

Sarah had been biting her tongue to keep from reacting to his barely civil greeting, but this new undeserved assault fired he
r usually controllable temper.

"What have I done or said to make you treat me so rudely? I haven't acted like a celebrity and don't expect any preferential treatment other than that you provide me with a horse, a place to sleep and minimal personal protection for the next few days. You've acted like I have some sort of shameful contagious disease that might rub off on you if one kind word escaped your lips. I've got a job to do here, and if we can't come to some sort of terms, then this next week is going to seem a lot longer than just seven days. I've tried my best to be nice and overlook your remarks, but you just keep on and on. . . ." she finished lamely, her large aquamarine eyes shimmeri
ng brightly with unshed tears.

"Touché," he responded, then fell silent, a confused frown furrowing his tanned forehead. Several minutes passed before he spoke again, but now his tone was friendlier and more open, as if he had struggled successfully to banish whatever it was
that had been troubling him.

"I have to admit that except for the way you dress, you're nothing like what I expected." Unexpectedly he flashed a warm apologetic smile, melting her anger and mak
ing her heart skip alarmingly.

"Which was?"

"A bird-witted, fading beauty on a star trip, expecting to be spoonfed and babied, a service I was not eager to provide," he answered ungallantly.

"Try not to
sugarcoat it." A grin lit up her face. "I can honestly say that that is not me. In fact, I promise you that I'll be out of this business long before I become the creature you described. "Only she knew how very true that statement was. By this time next week she would be on her way back home to Kentucky, transformed from a swan back into a duckling. "So can we call a truce and try to get along for the next few days? I've been involved in the music business for years, but I'm very new at this sort of thing and need all the friends I can get, and I don't mean devoted fan-type friends either," she said almost shyly, self-consciously smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles in her form-fitted pants.

A quick glance reassured him that her request was sincere. Impulsively he reached out and covered her small hand with his own much larger one. Although the gesture was meant only to be friendly, Sarah's breath caught in her throat, and she sneaked a look at him from beneath her long lashes, only to catch
his own steady gaze fastened on her. This time, however, his eyes weren't the glittery silver that they had been last night but a soft sparkling gray, and they held in their depths an expression suspiciously like admiration, which he quickly masked. Almost guiltily he returned his hand to the steering wheel and his eyes to the road.

After clearing his throat he said. "I don't know if you're as hungry as I am, but if you don't mind waiting a few extra minutes, we can eat a good country-style breakfast at my aunt and uncle's ranch. That's where we're supposed to meet t
he other trail riders anyway."

"I hate to just drop in on someone and expect them to fix us br
eakfast," she said hesitantly.

"Well, they are sort of expecting us," he admitted. "They said they would never forgive me if I didn't bring you by to meet them. Aunt Marie probably already has breakfa
st ready to put on the table."

"It sounds good to me. I'm starved. There's something about getting up early in the morning in the country that increases my appetite alarmingly." She laughed her naturally cheerful d
isposition reasserting itself.

When they arrived at the ranch, she demonstrated her hearty appetite by helping herself to generous portions of the delicious breakfast, which included fluffy scrambled eggs, crisp, thick bacon, snowy buttered grits, and flaky buttermilk biscuits still hot from the oven, filled with butter and homemade
strawberry preserves.

George and Marie Miller, the middle-aged couple who owned the ranch, hovered around her, watching appreciatively as she ate their food with apparent gusto. They were obviously awed to have seated at their dining-room table a singer who had appeared not once but several times at the Grand Ole Opry. None of their friends or neighbors would ever believe them, so after the meal Marie dug out an old Polaroid camera so they could have their pictures taken with Sarah, who cheerfully obliged, even autographing several record CDs they had with
Sunny's picture smiling from the covers.

After so many years of handling.
Sunny's correspondence Sarah could sign Sunny's name better than Sunny herself, but still she couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt at deceiving this honest, friendly couple who were making her feel so welcome in their home. She had not considered this part of the deception when she had agreed to become Sunny. Everyone who met her this week would, it was to be hoped, assume she was Sunny. But all those people would be victims of a hoax, a fact of which Sarah, with her naturally honest nature, was none too proud. But it was too late now. She was into this too deeply to turn back, so she would just have to concentrate on the benefits of this plan and try not to think about its bad aspects.

Marie adamantly refused Sarah's offer to help with the breakfast dishes and pushed her outside onto the front porch to relax and enjoy the fresh, cool country air. A large weathered wooden swing hung invitingly from one end of the porch that wrapped around the front and one side of the old farmhouse, and Sarah settled comfortably on the bright yellow cushions. Idly she swung back and forth while the men talked ranching, a seemingly endless s
ubject.

This was the life she was meant to lead; she was not really comfortable with the noisy insincerity she had lived with every day for the last seven years. As soon as she got home, she vowed, she would check her savings and investigate the possibility of buying herself a small farm on which to raise horses, cows, chickens, and children . . . not necessarily in that order. Her eyes involuntarily focused on Tyler as he sat on an old cane-back rocker, one powerful leg crossed at the ankle over the other kne
e, his hat perched on his lap.

He looked incredibly attractive, dressed in a navy blue western shirt and form-fitting jeans that hugged his slim hips and emphasized the well-developed muscles of his long legs. The morning sun glistened on his coal-black hair as it fell careles
sly across his broad forehead.

Abruptly Sarah sat up straight, almost upsetting her balance on the swing as she realized with alarm that her train of thought had leapt almost instantaneously from her future and children to Tyler. It was absolutely necessary for her to stop these musings at once. Nothing would complicate this masquerade more than, God forbid, her becoming romantically involved with this man or anyone else she met this week. She must remain detached and keep her cool because there could be no future in any relationship that began while s
he was pretending to be Sunny.

Shouts and laughter from the approaching trail riders interrupted her thoughts, and she welcomed the intrusion and watched expectantly as hundreds of riders and wagons slowly moved into view. The main body of the group continued to ride by the Millers' ranch without stopping. Only about a dozen riders detached themselves from the impromptu
parade to approach the house.

Tyler stood up to greet them, and Sunny followed his lead, gratefully accepting the security his solid presence offered. As if sensing her apprehension, he looked down at her, a small smile warming his eyes. A tingle raced down her spine as his arm circled her slim waist in what she tried to dismiss as a protective gesture. It was probably meant as a display for that nearing riders, but whatever the reason, she was very aware of his nearness, which mysteriously jumbled her normally sensible thoughts. She must remember that this was just a temporary job and accept things at face value without looking for any deeper meanings. There coul
d be none, especially for her.

"Hey, boss," one of the men called, "you been
piggin' out on Marie's biscuits again? We had to eat ol' Jed's cooking, and you know what he can do to an egg . . . and it ain't always polite."

"Yeah, some guys have all the luck," another rider snorted good-humoredly. But with that remark all thoughts shifted from food to the delicious-l
ooking morsel at Tyler's side.

"Okay, okay. If you can remember your manners, I'll introduce you to this little lady. You guys had better get it out of your system now, because when we join the others, your job is to take care of Miss Day and look out for her. I don't want to be spending all my time watching you watching her." Tyler's arm tightened possessively. "She's not only a talented singer and mighty easy to look at, but she's turned out
to be a real good sport too."

A round of introductions followed, most of which flew over Sarah's head because, for some reason, her mind could only focus on the warm pressure of that muscular arm against her back and the large hand loosely cupping her hipbone. She was reacting like a teenager with her first crush, allowing the slightest touch or hint of a smile to reduce her
to a pile of quivering Jell-O.

Sarah was not totally without experience, but she was still a virgin. There had been dozens of men in her life, one of whom she'd serious enough about to consider marrying, but none had ever held for her this instantaneous, overwhelming attraction that drove coherent thought from her mind and sent
goosebumps all over her body. Imagine what would happen to her if he should kiss her! Oh, no, now she was even thinking like a schoolgirl. Impatiently she shook her head to bring herself back to reality and the curious but courteous greetings of the wranglers who surrounded her, their hats in their hands, their eyes showing more interest than their words dared to express.