People Will Talk (7 page)

Bret's feet went on auto-pilot as he tried to
remember the last time he'd heard anything more arousing than her
laughter.

When the music ended, they were breathless.
Nora tossed back her tumbled hair and smiled up at him. "That was
fun."

"You bunny hop like a pro," he teased, leading
her off the dance floor.

"Years of experience," she said. "Can't you see
Richard hopping around a dance floor?"

He couldn't help but chuckle at the image.
Nora's smile widened. Standing at the edge of the dance floor in
the noisy, smoky bar, she looked beautiful. Her face glowed with
the exertion of the dance and relaxed laughter. Every hint of the
cool self-possessed woman she usually was seemed to have
evaporated.

Meeting her eyes, he felt a twinge of emotion
he couldn't identify, something warm and gentle that centered in
his chest.

"Want to play pool?" he blurted out.

"Pool?" She looked doubtfully toward the pool
room. "It looks kind of crowded."

"Come on," he grabbed her hand, "we'll find a
table."

The pool room seemed quiet after the band's
noise. Towing Nora past the first row of tables, Bret found an open
table in the back.

"You hold the table, I'll go get us set up," he
told her.

'When he returned a few minutes later, he found
her eyeing the game at the next table as an attractive
silver-haired man lined up a shot.

Bret started racking up the balls.

"] hate to sound like a broken record," Nora
said, "but I haven't played pool in a long time. I'm not sure I'll
remember."

"No problem," Bret assured her. "There's only
one basic rule as far as you're concerned. If you have to make any
shots where you stretch over, make sure your back is to the
wall."

She looked down at her brief skirt and
giggled.

"I'll remember that. Now aren't we supposed to
do something with the little round things on the table?"

The next half hour was grueling for Bret. How
could he have thought this would be better than dancing? He'd never
before realized that teaching someone to play pool could be
considered a contact sport.

"Okay," he said, standing back. "Those are the
basics. Take your best shot."

Nora positioned herself and sent the cue ball
rolling across the table's green surface to thud into the pack.
When the nine ball kept rolling and, totally by luck, fell into the
far pocket, she raised her cue stick and cheered.

By some off chance, her next shot sent the
three into the side pocket. This time Bret cheered.

Three shots later, they were drawing the
attention of the tables around them and he was beginning to think
he'd been hornswoggled.

Bret hooked his fingers in his pockets and
stood watching her.

Who'd have guessed that sweet little Nora could
play pool like a shark?

This game was taking on a whole new level of
excitement. He couldn't help but itch to discover her other hidden
talents.

******

Chapter Four

Two more balls rolled across the table,
settling into pockets. By the time a third banked off the side and
ended up in the corner pocket, play had stopped at the three tables
around them, and a small crowd had gathered, drawn by Nora's little
cries of triumph.

Bret leaned on his pool cue and glared at the
woman gracefully poised over the table.

When the last ball dropped and their impromptu
audience cheered, Nora straightened and turned toward him, an
excited sparkle behind the too-innocent look in her
eyes.

"Whew, she beat you bad," volunteered a guy
from the next table, pushing back a battered cowboy hat.

Leaning his own cue against the table, Bret
grasped hers and brought it up as a barrier between them. She
smiled demurely, her hands bracketed between his on the
cue.

"Nora Elizabeth, you lying woman," he said.
"You must have played pool when you were in diapers."

Her laugh was low, a husky sound that traveled
through him like a heat wave. "All I said was that I hadn't played
in a long time, and that's true."

"I'd say you got hooked up with a shark,"
suggested the silver-haired man who'd been playing with the cowboy.
He smiled at Nora. "You thinking about turning pro,
ma'am?”

She smiled back, her face glowing with
accomplishment. "I don't think I'm quite that good."

The man looked vaguely familiar to Bret, which
wasn't surprising since the Roadhouse pulled customers from all the
surrounding area.

"I have to agree with your friend," the older
man said. "You play like you grew up in pool halls."

Nora laughed, shaking her head ruefully.
"Thanks, but it was partly luck. I haven't touched a cue since
college, and even then only played on a dusty table in the dorm
basement."

"We've got such lousy players around here, like
poor Wyatt," the stranger gestured toward his partner in the
battered hat. "You could probably earn your livin' off
them."

"Jake!" the cowboy protested. "I ain't that
bad."

"Well, I'm not a pool shark," Nora jumped in.
''I'm a riding instructor. I'm setting up an equestrian academy in
Stoneburg."

Bret glanced at her in surprise. She was
loosening up nicely. If she kept moving in this direction, the
woman wouldn't have any trouble convincing people she meant
business.

"Equestrian? That's English style riding, isn't
it?" the stranger asked.

"Yes." The question seemed to dim her
excitement a shade. "Some people think Western is the only way to
ride, but equitation and dressage are very beneficial in helping
kids learn discipline and good horse care."

The older man smiled kindly at her, his
humorous gaze touching Bret's for an instant. "Folks around here
can get stuck in their ways. You'll probably have to put dynamite
under some folks to get them to think different."

"That's not a bad idea," she agreed,
smiling.

"Sounds like time to change the direction of
the conversation," Bret said, taking the cue out of Nora's hands.
He snagged her hand and led her around the table. "Let's
dance."

"It was nice talking to you," she called out to
the older man as Bret towed her toward the dance floor.

"You, too, ma'am."

"Hey, Bret!" a man called out as they made
their way to the dance floor. "You gonna win the Riding Club
Championship again this year?"

''I'm giving it my best shot," Bret said, not
stopping.

"Let me buy you a beer," the guy
offered.

"Thanks." Bret smiled. "Maybe
later."

The dance floor was more crowded now, the air
smokier. He cradled Nora to him, not minding the close
quarters.

"The guy in the pool room was nice," she said
as they danced.

"Very nice. Most people around here are," Bret
reminded her. "You've got to help them get to know you."

"I grew up here," she said with asperity. "The
worst of the gossips have known me since I was born."

"No," he disagreed gently as he smoothed the
tumble of hair away from her cheek. "They knew the quiet Nora
Hampton who lived here half the year and in Wichita Falls half the
year. But you've got to help them see this Nora, the grown-up woman
who wears sexy dresses and plays dirty tricks on her pool
partners.”

She stared up at him, her eyes struggling to
see in the smoky darkness. "Ruffling people's feathers isn't a good
way to start a business. I came tonight because I was mad at
Principal Stewart."

"Whatever the reason," he whispered, drawing
her closer against his body, ''I'm glad you're here."

Bret lowered his mouth to hers. She tasted like
red silk, warm and soft and hungry, her mouth clinging to his. A
bolt of piercing need shot through him. He angled his mouth over
hers again, sampling her dampness, aching to taste all of
her.

In his arms, she felt like every dream he'd
ever had, soft against his hardness, erotically curved and pliable.
He slid his hands down her back, savoring the feel of her through
her flimsy dress. His fingers detected the thin restraint of her
bra strap and his mind envisioned her bare breasts cupped in his
hands.

Lifting away from her lips, he heard her gasp
as their bodies came into full contact. He was only dimly aware of
the bar full of people and the shuffling, crowded dance
floor.

Nora pulled back slightly, her face soft with
lingering passion, her eyes dazed. She glanced around as if only
then becoming conscious of their surroundings.

"I need to leave," she gasped.

"Afternoon, ma'am." The ranch hand tipped his
hat as he and Nora passed in the barn door.

"Afternoon," she responded, grateful that some
people maintained their courtesy regardless of gossip. In the face
of the talk about her, she'd dealt with innuendo and outright
propositions from some men in town. But the hands who worked at the
Maddock ranch had always been polite.

Taking off her riding helmet as she stepped
into the sunny February day, Nora stopped a moment to let her eyes
adjust.

It wasn't until she turned toward her car that
she noticed the woman in the white Mercedes coupe. Parked next to
Nora's economy car, the expensive sports car gleamed with a high
polish.

The woman getting out of the Mercedes wasn't
quite so highly glossed, but she had that indefinable aura of
prosperity.

She didn't seem much over twenty-five, her
blond hair looking natural and chic and her clothing
casual.

Nora started across to her own car, curious but
not wanting to stare.

"Excuse me," the woman called out.

"Yes." Nora's steps faltered.

The other woman smiled, the friendly gesture
enlivening her attractive face. She came forward, offering her
hand. "I'm Melanie Lockhart. Are you Nora Hampton? I'd like to talk
with you about riding lessons for my daughter."

Excitement bubbled through Nora. "Oh! Of
course. Nice to meet you, Mrs. Lockhart." With the rock that
gleamed on the woman's finger, she didn't have to guess about her
marital state.

"I'm glad to meet you, too, Nora. Please call
me Melanie."

"Thank you, Melanie. How old is your
daughter?"

The other woman smiled. "She's eight, and she
has more energy than I know what to do with."

Nora nodded. "Learning proper riding technique
is an excellent way to channel high spirits."

"Sounds wonderful," Melanie said ruefully,
"because I'm almost worn out from keeping up with her. Her father
is the one who suggested that riding might help. I don't know if
you'll remember him, but he said he saw you whip the pants off Bret
Maddock at pool the other night."

Nora felt as if she'd turned to stone. "Oh.
Yes. I-I did." This gorgeous woman couldn't be married to the
cowboy in the battered hat, but that left only the silver-haired
man. The other observers couldn't have known about her teaching
riding.

"Jack was very impressed with your pool playing
abilities," Melanie said humorously. "He said anyone who could
handle a guy the way you handled Bret Maddock could probably make
sure that Lyssa stays out of trouble."

Apparently, Jack hadn't seen the kiss on the
dance floor or he might have been more concerned about the way
she'd "handled Bret."

"Well," Nora managed a weak smile, ''I'll
certainly do my best. How did your husband know how to find
me?"

The other woman shrugged. "I guess he asked
around about the riding academy." She looked around. "You're
finished with lessons for the day? Or don't you give them on
Mondays? I hope I'm not bothering you on your day off."

"Not at all." Nora hesitated. ''I'm really just
getting the academy started."

"Of course." Melanie smiled. ''I'll pay for the
first month."

"Fine." Nora's conscience stabbed her as the
other woman drew out her checkbook. Jack and Melanie Lockhart were
nice people. Did they know about the scandal? Surely, he'd have
heard about it from whoever told him where to find her.

For weeks, all she'd wanted was to find people
who didn't know about the gossip and get them to sign their
children up for lessons. And here she stood about to acquire a
student well able to afford a year of lessons, and she found
herself battling with the sensation that she was deceiving this
friendly woman.

"Mrs. Lockhart-Melanie," she blurted out. "I
think you should know that part of the reason I don't have more
students is that there's been some...talk...about me in Stoneburg.
"

The other woman looked up from the check she
was writing, a faint smile on her face. "Really? Did you rob a
bank?"

"No! Nothing like that," Nora gasped. "My
former fiancé claims I was unfaithful-"