Flirting with Texas (Deep in the Heart of Texas) (24 page)

“I’m glad you realize that.” He tossed the shirt in the corner and undid the button of his jeans, slowly sliding down the zipper and exposing a very hard…

Jenna’s mouth went dry, and she had trouble swallowing down the bite of bacon she’d just taken. “What are you doing?”

He pushed down the jeans and stepped out of them before climbing in bed. He positioned himself behind her, his long legs spread on either side of her hips. Through the satin of the sheet she could feel every hardened inch of him pressing into her bottom. Leaning over her bare shoulder, he took a bite of the bacon she still held in her hand.

“Why, I’m eating breakfast, of course.” He swallowed the bite before nibbling a heated path along her bare shoulder.

Jenna’s eyes dropped closed, and the bacon fell forgotten to the floor.

“…
AND
I’
M THINKIN
’ I
SHOULD
head on out to Miss Hattie’s and check it out for myself.”

Marcy didn’t usually pay any attention to what Kenny Gene said, but today she couldn’t help but stop and pretend to look in the window of Duds ’N Such so she could listen in on his and Rye Pickett’s conversation.

“But I thought you said that Twyla would have a fit if you went out to the henhouse,” Rye said.

“But this is bid-ness,” Kenny said. “It’s my professional duty as an officer of the law to make sure nothin’ shady’s goin’ on.”

“But I thought Sheriff Winslow took away your deputy duties after you gave a ticket to his wife, Myra, for failing to signal on a turn,” Rye said. “Besides, even if you were a deputy, Miss Hattie’s ain’t even in your jurisdiction. And I wouldn’t want to mess with Sheriff Hicks. I hear he carries a gun with real bullets.”

“Well, he ain’t gonna shoot one of his law enforcement buddies,” Kenny huffed. “And no matter what Sheriff Winslow says, eventually, I’m going to be a dep-u-tee. In
fact, exposin’ what’s goin’ on at Miss Hattie’s just might be my ticket in.”

If it had been anyone but Kenny Gene talking, Marcy might’ve been worried. But Kenny couldn’t expose a Popsicle from a paper wrapper. Still, it angered her to find out that Beau had been right. Sean had told people about her proposition. And she didn’t know if she was more angry or hurt. For some reason, she thought that he would keep things between the two of them. She should’ve known better. Men had never kept secrets about Marcy.

Another woman might’ve slunk down the street and hoped they didn’t see her. That wasn’t Marcy’s style. Adjusting her bra, she walked straight toward them. Kenny was so engrossed in talking about the henhouse that he almost didn’t notice her.

“Besides,” he said, “I got a good excuse for being out at the henhouse. I need to take Beau his backpack that he dropped the night we shanghaied him—Well, hey, Marcy! You still helpin’ out at the library?”

She wasn’t. Which was something else she held against Sean Robbins. If he hadn’t turned it into charity, she would still be able to work there. But she had never taken handouts from the town, and she never would.

“No,” she said with a smile and a wink, “you boys should know that I have better things to do with my time.” Obviously, Rye and Kenny hadn’t heard about her working at Miss Hattie’s because they both looked confused.

“You takin’ that ceramics class that Darla’s teachin’?” Kenny asked. “I hear tell that for twenty-two dollars you’ll end up with an entire nativity scene, includin’ a pig and an extra baby Jesus just like our live nativity a couple years back.”

Marcy remembered the live nativity scene. It was the same night that she locked her sister, Samantha, and Ethan in Lowell’s barn together. Now they were happily married with a farm to take care of, a new veterinarian business, and a baby on the way. Which was the main reason Marcy hadn’t asked for their help with her financial problem. They had enough to worry about.

Although Sam would be devastated if she ever found out—and if she ever discovered what Marcy was willing to do for the money. She swallowed. Well, that was just something Sam would have to live with. It shouldn’t be too hard considering Marcy’s history.

“See you later, boys,” she said and continued down the street toward the bank.

The inside of The Bank of Bramble was cold compared to the heat of the afternoon. Rubbing her bare arms, Marcy walked over and stood in line behind Wilma Tate, who was wearing a hat with a pathetic-looking bird perched on top. She was leaning so far over the counter that the bird looked like it was pecking her forehead.

“… I’ll tell you one thing,” she said to the teller, Ruby Lee. “If the good folks of Bramble aren’t going to do something about that den of iniquity, I will. The Reverend Jessup says that this country will end up in the hands of heathens if us god-fearing folks don’t stand up for what is right.”

Ruby Lee counted out Wilma’s money. “Isn’t Reverend Jessup that television evangelist that swindled those old folks out of their retirement?”

“There was no swindlin’ involved,” Wilma said. “Reverend Jessup explained everything on a two-hour special—” She glanced behind her, and when she saw Marcy, her
mouth puckered up. Marcy steeled herself. If anyone had heard about her working at Miss Hattie’s, it would be the biggest gossip in Bramble.

But instead of laying her low with snide comments, she only nodded her bird. “Hello, Marcy. I heard you were back in town.”

“Hello, Mrs. Tate,” Marcy said. “Your ears didn’t deceive you.”

The woman snorted before she took her money and left. Marcy waited for the door to close behind her, then stepped up to the counter. “I need a money order, please.”

She pulled out the envelope of cash. The money had been a welcome surprise. Minnie had called her into the library just that morning and given it to her, saying it was advance payment from a client. Not wanting to think about what she would have to do for the money, Marcy quickly handed it over to Ruby Lee.

No more than five minutes later, Marcy left the bank and headed for the post office. Too bad she had to go past the First Baptist Church on her way. As she walked beneath the stone steeple with its sky-high cross, she kept her eyes pinned to the sidewalk in front of her. But that didn’t keep her stomach from knotting or her throat from feeling all choked up. And it didn’t keep the images from popping in her head. Images of Sean standing in the sunlight that streamed in through the lacy curtains. His gaze as it ran over her body. His kiss that had completely disarmed her.

He had desired her. She had been around enough men to know desire when she saw it. But desire was just a product of physical attraction. It meant nothing. She meant nothing. At least, not to Sean. As much as his body
wanted her, his mind was only interested in her as a project. As a charity case that needed tending to.

Marcy stiffened her spine. Well, she wasn’t a charity case. She was who she was, and no preacher man could change that. She was so wrapped up in getting by the church without passing out that she ran smack dab into Johnny Reardon. His beefy arms came around her waist, knocking her purse from her arm and lifting her clear off her heels.

“Well, if it ain’t Miss Marcy Henderson,” he drawled. “I waited at Bootlegger’s for you most of the night and you never showed up. And if I hadn’t wasted my time on you, some other gal could’ve been gettin’ some Johnnycakes. Now I figure you owe me.”

“Put me down.” She squirmed to get out of his arms, but he only tightened his grip.

He lowered his gaze to her cleavage that pressed against his chest. “You look like you’ve gotten a little bigger since—”

His words cut off as an arm clamped around Johnny’s neck. An arm partially covered in bright yellow material with hula dancers on it.

“Let her go,” Sean said in a commanding voice that had no doubt scared more than a few sinners into repenting. Marcy wasn’t scared. She was confused. No one had ever come to her rescue before. Probably because no one ever thought she needed rescuing.

Not even Marcy.

Johnny released Marcy and held up his hands. “Okay, Preach,” he spoke in a tight voice. “Me and Marcy were just havin’ ourselves a little fun. But if it offends you, we’ll find somewhere more private to do—” His face turned a deeper red, and he clawed at the arm around his neck.

“I might not know a lot about the Bible,” Marcy said, “but doesn’t it say somewhere that you shouldn’t kill folks?”

Sean seemed to snap out of whatever daze he was in, and he released Johnny.

Johnny gasped for air and glared at Sean. “I-If you w-weren’t a preacher…”

Marcy laughed. “Go on home, Johnny Reardon. You might be as big as a barn, but you’ve never been able to fight your way out of a paper bag. And everyone in town knows it.”

Johnny rubbed his neck. “You sure got uppity since leavin’ town, Marcy.” He turned and headed down the street.

Once he was gone, Sean’s gaze ran over her from the top of her head to the tips of her high heels.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’d be better if you hadn’t told the entire town about what happened at Miss Hattie’s.” She bent down to pick up her purse, wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible.

Sean squatted down next to her, reaching for the items that had fallen out of her purse. “I may have called Sheriff Hicks, but I never used your name, Marcy. And I never will. What happened at Miss Hattie’s will remain between us. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop trying to save you from the spell Minnie has weaved.”

Marcy stared at him. “You just don’t get it, do you? Minnie didn’t corrupt me, Sean. I was cast in my role long before I ever met her.” She smiled. “Just like you were cast in yours. And nothing will change that. So stop trying to save me and accept the fact that I’m evil and you’re
good. And both are needed to make this little planet of ours go round and round.”

She jerked her wallet from his hand, not realizing that the money order was beneath it. Sean glanced down at it, and his brow knotted before she grabbed it and stuffed it back in her purse.

As Marcy turned and walked away, part of her longed for him to stop her while the other part knew that he couldn’t. If God had a sense of humor, she figured that He was probably laughing His butt off about now.

It seemed that the biggest slut in Bramble had gone and fallen in love with one of His angels.

Sean started to go after her, but something stopped him. Maybe it was the pain in her eyes. Or maybe it was the deep-down knowledge that she was right. They were two different people, with two different paths. He couldn’t save her. Only God could do that. All he could do was pray for her.

He turned and headed back to the church. Inside, Mr. Sims was working on the squeak in the door.

“Almost got it fixed,” he said.

Sean nodded. “Thank you. I’m sure Danny Bailey will be happy that he can sneak out during Sunday school and no one will be the wiser.”

Mr. Sims laughed. “The mail came while you were gone, and I told Tom to put it on your desk.”

Sean walked into his office and shut the door. Once seated in his chair, he looked through the mail. A letter caught his eye, and he quickly ripped the envelope open. When he was finished reading through it, he eased back in his chair. It seemed that God had given him his wish. The
California congregation he had applied to had accepted him. He expected to feel nothing but joy. God had given him what he had been praying for. But he didn’t feel joyful. He just felt… empty. Like he had unwrapped a box with nothing in it.

“Forgive me, Father, for my ungratefulness,” he whispered as he started to bow his head in prayer. A flash had him glancing at his desktop computer. The screen displayed the schedule of hospital visits he needed to make over the next couple weeks. Since he had been sitting back in the chair and hadn’t touched his mouse, he wondered how the screen had switched from his screen saver. Wanting to check to see if his computer was broken, he leaned up to click to another page when the name of a hospital caught his attention.

And not a hospital but a rehabilitation facility.

The same rehabilitation facility that had been on the money order that had fallen out of Marcy’s purse.

It took a moment for him to remember who had given him the name. Then he tried to remember the conversation he’d had with Marcy’s sister, Samantha. Sam had mentioned something about how fortunate they were that Medicaid had paid for the facility for her mother since it was one of the most sought after ones in the country and normally cost thousands of dollars—

The truth hit him like a lightning bolt from heaven.

Marcy.

An angel of mercy disguised in a harlot’s body.

“Y
OU SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELF
, Beauregard Cates,” Minnie huffed as Beau pushed her through the corridor of the cancer center in Houston. “Forcin’ an old woman to do something against her will. And you,” she shot a mean look over at Brant, who was walking right next to Beau, “should be home with your son and wife. Not flyin’ that helicopter of yours out to help your little brother with his sinister plot.”

“You’re lucky that Bobby has a cold and Elizabeth had to stay home,” Brant said, “or you’d be getting your butt chewed out about now. What were you thinking not telling us about your cancer?”

“I was thinkin’ that it’s my body and my life,” she snapped. “Obviously, I was wrong.”

As worried as he was about Minnie, Beau couldn’t help smiling at the woman’s feistiness. “Calm down, Minnie,” he said. “We’re not forcing you to get surgery. We’re merely having you talk to a specialist so you can get all the facts before you make your decision.”

“I have all the facts,” she blustered. “You Cates boys
are nothin’ but a bunch of control-freak cowboys who expect all women to do your biddin’.”

Beau shot a glance over at Brant. Brant was the somber one of the family, the brother who was all business and rarely smiled. But he flashed a smile now as they answered in unison.

“Pretty much.”

Minnie continued to fuss all the way through the hospital corridors. She didn’t shut up until they entered Dr. Flanders’s office. Then the darn ornery woman refused to speak at all. Beau knew how she felt. Dr. Flanders had been his oncologist, and there was a moment when he first entered the room that he was struck speechless. Fortunately, the feeling left once the doctor started talking about Minnie.