Heaven, Texas (25 page)

B
obby Tom was getting ready to leave the movie set for the day when Connie Cameron slipped into his motor home carrying two frosty bottles of beer. It was Saturday evening, they were done shooting for the week, and he was looking forward to having a day off.

“It's been hot today; I thought you might like to share a cold one.”

He gazed at her as he finished buttoning his shirt. He'd spent the past week either tied up while he was being tortured by Paolo Mendez, the actor who was playing the kingpin, or jumping into the river with Natalie as explosive charges went off around them, and he wasn't in the mood to be seduced by anybody but Gracie. Just the thought of that sweet small body made him hard. Even though a month had passed since they'd first made love, he hadn't gotten nearly enough of her.

“Sorry, sweetheart, but the little woman's waiting for me at home.”

“What the little woman doesn't know won't hurt her.” She gave each cap an angry twist and held one bottle out to him.

He set it on the counter while he tucked his shirt in his jeans. Her short, stretchy skirt rode up on her thighs as she sat down on the built-in couch. Her legs were tan, but they didn't seem quite as shapely as Gracie's.

“Where's she been the past few days, anyway?” Connie flicked open an extra button on her blouse, as if she'd gotten overheated.

“Either on the phone or setting everybody straight over at the nursing home. She's organizing the golf tournament travel arrangements for me. It's a big job.”

“I'm sure she can handle it.” She took a sip of beer, then brought up one foot, bending her knee so she could tuck it beneath the opposite thigh. The position left him with a clear view of her purple panties.

Since she was putting it on display, he looked, but he found himself feeling more irritated than aroused. “Connie, what are you doing? If you're engaged to Jimbo, why are you sniffin' 'round me?”

“I like you. I always have.”

“I like you, too. At least I used to.”

“What's that mean?”

“It means that I'm a one-woman man right now. And as long as you're wearing Jimbo's ring, I think you should seriously consider being a one-man woman.”

“I intend to be a good and faithful wife, but that doesn't mean I'd object to a last fling before I walk down the aisle.”

“Not with me.”

“Since when did you turn into such a goddamn prude?”

“Since I met Gracie, that's when.”

“What's she got, Bobby Tom? Nobody can figure it out. I mean, everybody likes her and everything. She's friendly and people appreciate the way she's taken an interest in those old folks at Arbor Hills. She'll help out anybody who needs it. Hell, she even helped me out last week when Louann didn't show up, and I've pretty much let her know I hate her guts. But she can't dance worth a damn. And even though she's cute, you've always liked full-figured women.”

She pushed her own full-figures out to make certain he got the point she was trying to make, which he did. It occurred to him that Gracie had something that Connie was missing. She had scruples.

She also had a stubborn streak that was just about driving him crazy. The money she put in his desk drawer was significant for her, but it wasn't even pocket change to him, and it galled him that she was being so intractable about it. He knew she wasn't like all the bloodsuckers who made a career out of feeding off him, so why wouldn't she let him buy things for her? For all her supposed insights into his character, she didn't seem to realize that he was always the one who did the giving and that anything else made him uncomfortable. A flicker of uneasiness passed through him as he reminded himself that she didn't know he was the one paying her salary, but he told himself not to worry about it. He'd just mike damned certain she never found out, that was all.

Connie regarded him suspiciously. “Another thing that has people wondering  .  .  . Gracie sure doesn't seem to know much about football for somebody who's supposed to have passed the quiz.”

“I made a few allowances.”

She jumped up from the couch in outrage. “That's not fair! Ladies have always counted on you to be fair when you give the quiz.”

He realized too late that he'd made a major tactical blunder. “I
am
fair. That's why I sometimes have to grade on the curve.”

That seemed to mollify her. He watched warily as she set down her beer bottle and sauntered toward him, a take-no-prisoners look in her dark eyes. She might be the finest-looking woman in Telarosa, but right now he didn't find her half as appealing as Gracie.

A particularly tantalizing memory of the sounds Gracie'd made in his ear last night went through his mind. He was absolutely certain he must have had as good a time in bed with somebody else, but for the life of him, he couldn't recall exactly when or with whom. Gracie was full of surprises. She exhibited an irresistible combination of passion and innocence, reticence and boldness. When they made love, she got him so worked up that he had to keep reminding himself she was a newcomer to the erotic arts, and that he'd only gotten involved in the first place to do her a favor. He suspected he wouldn't be having this strong a reaction to her if he hadn't temporarily lost his sex drive after his retirement, and more than once he'd been forced to remind himself it would probably have been the same with any woman he'd taken up with again.

When Connie wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth to his, he had a chance to test the theory, but it didn't take him more than ten seconds to realize she wasn't going to set him on fire. He took her by the shoulders and firmly set her away from him. “You be sure and let me know what you want for a wedding present, y'hear.”

Her whole face tightened up, and be knew he'd insulted her, but he hadn't invited her here and he didn't much care. He picked up his car keys and Stetson, then walked over to the door and held it open for her. She passed through without a word. He slipped on his hat as he followed her outside.

Police Chief Jimbo Thackery was waiting by his squad car not twenty feet away.

Connie didn't miss a beat. “Hi, Jim honey.” She walked over to him with her rumpled hair and unbuttoned blouse and threw her arms around his neck.

Jimbo extricated himself and gave Bobby Tom a glare full of malevolence. “What the hell's going on here? What are you doing with him?”

Connie curled her fingers over his arm. “Now don't get riled, Jim. Me and Bobby Tom was just having a beer. Nothing happened, did it, Bobby Tom?” She gave Bobby Tom a slow, sly smile that suggested quite a lot had happened.

Bobby Tom regarded both of them with disgust. “I don't think I ever saw two people who deserved each other more.”

He headed for his truck only to have Jimbo catch him just as he slid behind the wheel. The police chief's small eyes were hard and mean. “I'm waiting for you, Denton. The first time you throw down a gum wrapper or spit on the sidewalk, I'm gonna be right there.”

“I don't spit, Jimbo,” Bobby Tom said. “Leastwise not unless I happen to see you standing in my way.”

As he drove off, he glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Jimbo and Connie engaged in a heavy-duty argument. He didn't know which of them he felt sorrier for.

Something awakened Gracie. Even after a month, she still hadn't quite grown accustomed to spending the night in Bobby Tom's bed, and for a fraction of a second, she didn't know where she was. A flicker of light coming from the hallway caught her attention at the same time that she realized she was alone in bed.

As she set her feet on the floor and slipped into her robe, she saw that it was nearly three in the morning. It was Sunday already, and she and Bobby Tom were flying to San Antonio in the morning with Natalie and her husband Anton, who was in town for the weekend.

She moved out into the hallway and saw that the light was coming from his office. She stopped in the doorway. He sat sprawled in an easy chair fixed at a slight angle so that he didn't see her when she stepped inside. His hair was rumpled, and he wore a gold-and-brown silk robe printed with old Spanish coins. The silvery light came from the television screen, where he watched a football game with the volume muted.

He pointed the remote control toward the television, and as the picture went into reverse motion, she realized it was actually a videotape that held his attention. She turned her attention to the screen and spotted him in his Stars' uniform.

As the flickering patterns of light and shadow moved across his face and threw his cheekbones into sharp relief, the silent football play progressed. Bobby Tom made a sharp cut toward the sidelines. The ball was coming toward him, but it looked as if it had been thrown too high for him to catch. He leaped up in the air anyway and seemed to hang there, every muscle in his body stretched.

Her breath caught in her throat as she saw the opposing player charging toward him. Bobby Tom was fully extended and completely vulnerable.

The hit was brutal. Within seconds, he was lying on the ground writhing in pain.

He hit the rewind button and once again the play began to unfold. She felt sick inside as she realized this was what he'd been doing night after night when she'd seen the light coming from his study. He had been sitting in the dark reliving the play that ended his career.

She must have moved or made some involuntary noise because he twisted toward her. When he saw her standing there, he jabbed the remote to stop the tape. The screen filled with snow.

“What do you want?”

“I woke up and you weren't there.”

“I don't need you checking up on me.” He rose from the chair and tossed the remote down on the cushion.

“It breaks my heart thinking of you sitting here night after night watching that tape.”

“I don't know where you get your ideas. This is the first time I've looked at that tape since I was hurt.”

“That's not true,” she said softly. “I can see the light in here from my bedroom window. I know you watch it all the time.”

“Just mind your own business.”

The tendons of his neck had corded with tension, but she couldn't back down about something so important to him. “You're still young. It's time to move forward with your life instead of looking backward.”

“Now that's funny. I don't have any memory of asking for your advice.”

“It's behind you now, Bobby Tom.” Impulsively, she held out her hand. “I'd like you to give me the tape.”

“Why should I do that?”

“Because you're hurting yourself by watching it, and it's time to stop.”

“You don't know what you're talking about.”

“Please give me the tape.”

He jerked his head toward the television. “If you want it so much, take the goddamn thing, but don't start acting like you know what I'm thinking and what I'm not thinking because you don't.”

“You won't let your guard down with anyone, will you?” She walked over to the television and removed the tape from the VCR.

“Just because we've spent some time in bed together doesn't give you the right to start prying and poking. A woman does that to me once too often, she ends up on the other side of the door, and don't you forget it. I'm going to chalk this conversation up to your inexperience with men.”

She refused to be intimidated by his belligerence because she understood its source. She had seen too deeply into his private emotional landscape, and he wanted to make her pay. She patted his arm. “This hasn't been a conversation, Bobby Tom. You haven't said one single thing that matters.”

She slipped past him to go into the bedroom and gather up her clothes, but she'd no sooner tucked the videotape in her purse before he appeared in the doorway. “Maybe that's because I haven't been talking dirty.”

His mouth was cocked at the corner in a lazy, calculated grin that didn't make it anywhere near his eyes. She recognized the effort he was making to pretend that she hadn't touched a nerve and knew he intended to put an end to her probing of his psyche by using his favorite weapon, premeditated charm.

For a moment she hesitated, undecided about the course she should take. Did the fact that she loved him give her the right to chip away at the barriers of privacy he was so determined to keep in place? She wanted to, but common sense told her he'd erected those walls a long time ago, and she wasn't going to tear them down in one night.

“No more talk, Gracie.” He stripped off her robe, and then his own. She expected him to take her to the bed, but, instead, he guided her back into his study, where he sank down in the big easy chair and pulled her on top of him. Within minutes, he was teaching her still another way to make love. But she didn't enjoy it as much as she normally would have. There was too much unspoken between them.

Their flight the next morning to San Antonio was uneventful, and with Bobby Tom as tour guide, their first stop was quite naturally the Alamo. Texas's most important shrine sat amidst hamburger and ice cream shops in the middle of San Antonio's bustling downtown area. As they crossed the plaza toward the stone mission, a street corner evangelist warned of the second coming while clusters of tourists clutching camcorders recorded the central building's familiar facade.

“You look as pretty as a picture,” Bobby Tom whispered. “I mean it, Gracie. I'm gonna have to lock you up if you get any prettier.”

Warmth spread through her as he leaned down and brushed a light kiss over her lips. Their early-morning lovemaking had been earthy and sweaty and not at all polite. He hadn't let her have an orgasm until she'd whispered a whole stream of dirty words in his ears. She'd retaliated by waiting until he had showered and dressed, then made him perform the world's slowest strip tease. After all, what was the sense of being Bobby Tom Denton's lover if she couldn't enjoy looking at that wonderful body?

Ahead of them, Natalie held hands with her husband Anton. The first time Gracie had met Anton Guyard, she'd been surprised by the contrast in appearance between the round-faced, balding Los Angeles businessman and his beautiful movie star wife. But Anton was charming and intelligent, in addition to being deeply in love with Natalie, and she obviously adored him.

Bobby Tom squeezed Gracie's hand and looked away from the gaggle of tourists who'd begun to stare at him. He was highly recognizable in a pink Western-cut shirt with pearl studs and his ever-present Stetson. Gracie wore a mushroom-colored knit top with a matching short skirt, sandals, and chunky, brushed gold earrings.