The Counterfeit Cowgirl (5 page)

Grover’s pale blue eyes started. He gulped visibly and squeaked, “Eighteen?”

“Give or take a few years.” Felicity gave Aaron a challenging glance then returned her attention to Grover. “You’re helping to organize the Rice Festival this year, aren’t you? I’m really looking forward to seeing Randy MacElroy perform.”

Grover quickly started to resemble a nervous guppy. He stared from Aaron to Felicity.

“Is the barbecue done yet, Felicity?” Joey tugged at her hand.

“It’ll be ready in a few minutes.” Aaron bent to lift Joey into his arms. “What do you say we show Miss Clayton your ponies?”

“Oh, boy.” Pete hopped on one foot. “Uncle Aaron gave us horses, Felicity. Mine is named Donatello and Joey’s is Michelangelo.”

Felicity reached for Pete’s hand. “I’d love to see them.” She smiled at Grover. “Maybe we’ll have a chance to talk later this evening.”

“Grover is going to be busy,” Aaron said smoothly. “As master of ceremonies, it’s his duty to circulate and make sure the guests are having a good time.”

The pointed statement wasn’t lost on Grover. “I was looking for you, Aaron. We got word this afternoon that Randy MacElroy canceled out on us, but boy, did we ever luck out with our celebrity entertainer this year.”

Grover took on such an air of self-importance that Felicity wondered why Aaron didn’t kick him.

“Randy canceled?” She frowned. “He’d never — I mean Randy wouldn’t cancel a concert unless something awful happened.”

Before she could ask what was wrong with Randy, Ruthie Fisher appeared and gave Aaron an enticing smile. Her fringed blue satin shirt gaped open at the neck to reveal a considerable amount of tanned cleavage.

“Aaron, sugar, why don’t you come up here and sing a couple for the folks? Hi, honey,” Ruthie said to Felicity. She entwined her arm through Aaron’s. “That’s a fantastic outfit you’re wearing. Wish I was that skinny.”

Felicity smiled, realizing Ruthie meant the words as a compliment. “It’s my genetic code. My mother says I ought to eat and be grateful.”

“Oh, honey, I sure would.” Ruthie beamed and tugged at Aaron’s arm. “Come on up, sugar. The fans are waiting.”

“You go ahead, Mr. Whitaker, sugar,” Felicity sassed. “The boys and I will go see the horses.”

To his credit, Aaron didn’t look particularly eager to mount the platform beside Ruthie, but he went gracefully enough. From the reaction of the crowd, they looked forward to this part of the entertainment every year.

Aaron’s smooth, deep tones floated out over the crowd. His words took on a warmth and depth that his rough-speaking voice lacked. If he had been any other man, Felicity might have stayed and listened. Instead, she followed the two little boys to the buffet table, grabbed a few apple slices, and fled.

She breathed in the fragrant, hay-scented air of the stable and followed the boys down the wide, concrete hall. Sounds of horses replaced the smooth sound of Aaron’s voice, and Felicity suppressed a twinge of nervousness. If it came to horses versus Aaron Whitaker, the horses were a much safer bet.

He was very good — too good. A man with a voice like that was bound to have dreams of stardom. Felicity shuddered. Thank goodness she’d found out before her unwilling attraction to him had time to grow. She loved country music, but she had plenty of reasons to avoid would-be country musicians.

“Donatello likes apples,” Pete said. “Look, Felicity.”

She approached cautiously and peered over the stall door. Donatello was a small pony whose head was no taller than Felicity’s shoulder. Rather than dance about nervously, the pony stood sedately while Pete stroked its neck. Felicity relaxed a little. She also had plenty of reasons to avoid horses, but on the whole, she’d rather avoid Aaron than his horses.

“So he does,” she said. “Does your father like horses?”

“My daddy says we live in the city, so we can’t have a horse.” Pete fed the pony another apple slice.

“When is my daddy coming?” Joey came to stand before Felicity. “I want him. When is he coming?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart.” No wonder they invented ghosts to be afraid of, Felicity decided. Whatever had happened between their parents hadn’t made them fear their father. “What does your mother say?”

Joey’s big, blue eyes filled with tears, and his lower lip quivered. “She says she doesn’t know. Why doesn’t she know?”

Felicity looked at Pete. He looked back at her with trust and expectation.

“I’m sure you’ll see him soon,” she compromised. “He must miss you both. Do you think Michelangelo would take an apple from me?”

Fortunately, the children were young enough to be easily distracted. Felicity gingerly held out a slice as the boys watched eagerly, then jerked her hand back when the pony’s soft muzzle brushed her skin.

“He won’t bite,” Pete assured her.

“I can see he’s a very well-mannered horse.” Joey’s Michelangelo was an even smaller pony than Donatello, but a horse was a horse to Felicity.

“Will you take us riding, Felicity?” Pete asked. “You’re a good cowgirl.”

“Yes,” Joey echoed, bouncing happily at the thought.

Felicity gulped. Here was where image ran head-on into reality and collapsed. “I don’t have a horse of my own here. Maybe later, when I’ve had time to … er … get one.”

She had always gone by the adage that image was everything. But here was a case where it really would be nice if she had at least one cowgirl-related skill.

“Uncle Aaron has lots of horses,” Pete assured her. “He’ll let you ride one.”

“Well, uh … ,” Felicity began.

“Please, Felicity,” Joey begged. “We want you to.”

“She’ll be happy to, won’t you, Felicity?” Aaron’s familiar, gravelly voice spoke up.

She might have known he’d turn up at exactly the wrong time. Felicity glanced irritably over her shoulder. Aaron seemed twice as intimidating in his black western outfit.

“As I was explaining, I don’t have a horse.”

“I’ve got horses.” Aaron leaned his shoulder against the wall and propped one booted foot against the stall door. “Lots of horses.”

“Well, I don’t, and I make it a point never to ride someone else’s horse.”

Aaron’s lazy smile transformed his entire face. “Come along and take your pick.”

“I’m very busy tomorrow,” Felicity said. “I have the carpenter coming out and an electrician.”

“Here’s a beauty.” Ignoring her speech, Aaron walked a few steps and gestured toward a stall. “What do you think?”

Felicity looked and suppressed a shudder. The animal stood at least five or six feet high at the shoulder, and it looked like a mass of quivering flesh and adrenalin. She just knew the horse was aching to bolt, or stomp, or bite, or buck her off if she was stupid enough to mount him.

“It’s lovely,” she said. “But — ”

“It’s a she.” Aaron rubbed the horse’s muzzle and presented an apple sliver Pete handed him. “She’s a real lady, aren’t you, Quiche?”

Felicity observed the large, square teeth crunching the apple sliver. The horse looked like a biter; lady or no.

“Felicity can race us to the pond,” Pete said.

Joey concurred, hopping up and down with excitement.

“I see what the problem is.” Aaron gestured briskly. “You’d like a more spirited horse than Quiche.”

He reached for her arm and led her a few stalls down. Felicity ignored the warmth of his big hand and sought to plant her boots on the concrete.

“Rhyolite is my favorite,” Aaron said.

The sight of Rhyolite reduced Felicity to a state of paralysis. She stared, dry-mouthed, at the huge, gray horse.

“Well?” Aaron clearly expected some sort of praise from her.

“It’s — ” She cleared her throat. “It’s a beautiful horse. Excuse me, please. I’d better be going; I’m expecting a telephone call.”

“No.” Joey’s little face crumpled.

“You can’t go yet.” Pete grabbed her hand. “We haven’t had any barbecue.”

“Is this another telephone call from your mother?” Aaron asked, grinning. He indicated the horse. “‘It’ is a gelding, which makes him a he. He’s yours for tomorrow afternoon. And my nephews are right. You can’t leave yet.”

Felicity had no idea what a gelding was, but she was determined to bluff her way through it. “I can see perfectly well he’s a gelding, but I’m not about to ride your horse,” she said. “Let’s go have some barbecue, boys. I’ll have to be leaving in a few minutes.”

“Hold on a minute.” Aaron indicated the big, gray gelding and the chestnut mare down the row. “Are you saying you’d rather ride Quiche?”

She felt sure Aaron was setting her up for something. For once, her usual composure deserted her.

“No. You’d better ride Rhyolite,” he said. “You’re a woman who likes a challenge. I knew that the minute I saw you.”

“Is that right?” Now Felicity knew she was being set up. “Hush, boys. Thank you, Mr. Whitaker, but I’m too busy right now to take time off for riding.” She grabbed for Joey’s hand. “Now what do you say we go get some of that good barbecue?”

Pete was brave but despairing. Joey, however, was heartbroken and didn’t care who knew it.

“Pete, take Joey and make sure Michelangelo and Donatello are comfortable for the night,” Aaron said. “Remember how I taught you to brush them?”

Pete and Joey disappeared with dragging steps into the two small stalls, and Aaron turned to Felicity. “Well, Miss Clayton, are you going to give in gracefully?”

Felicity regarded him warily. “What do you mean?”

He gave her a silky smile. “A cowgirl such as yourself is bound to be an expert rider. I know you wouldn’t want to disappoint two little boys. Especially two little boys undergoing a lot of emotional upheaval.”

“Oh, well, I — ”

“In fact, I feel I’m insulting you by offering you two such gentle mounts,” he pursued.

“As a matter of fact, I — ”

“But the boys and I will see to it that you get plenty of exercise. Just be ready at five, will you?”

“I told you, I — ”

“And don’t tell me you don’t ride,” he interrupted. “Your image as an intrepid cowgirl would be ruined if you turn out to be a phony who can’t ride a horse.”

Felicity glared. “Of course I ride. Don’t draw any conclusions just because I don’t care to go riding with you.”

“Now, honey,” he said, grinning wickedly, “you aren’t going riding with me. You’re going riding with the boys. I’ll just be along for the exercise.”

Felicity drew in her breath and gritted her teeth. “Thanks for the
wonderful
opportunity to prove myself a real cowgirl, but — ”

“Rhyolite has been trained for jumping.”

Jumping? Felicity paled.

“Mr. Whitaker, I do not wish to go riding with you.”

“Yes, Miss Clayton, you do. You wouldn’t want the boys to tell everyone you can’t ride a horse, would you?”

The guileless smile that accompanied this speech made Felicity long to wipe it off his face by saddling Rhyolite and jumping six fences.

“Whether or not I’m able to ride a horse has nothing to do with it,” she snapped. “The fact that I do not wish to ride with you does.”

“Oh, come now, Miss Clayton.” Aaron gave her a lazy smile. “Surely you understand that, for the time being, where my nephews go, I go. And they want to go with you.”

Felicity swallowed. How hard could it be to ride a horse? “Of course I understand, Mr. Whitaker. I’m the object of an overprotective relative myself.”

“Ah, yes,” Aaron said. “The telephone call you’re expecting. Well, Miss Clayton, let’s feed you a good plate of barbecue and send you on home to receive your mother’s nightly phone call. How old did you say you were?”

“Twenty-six going on six as far as my mother is concerned,” Felicity returned. “The thing is she’s upset because I’ve come way down here for a few weeks. She thinks rural Texans such as yourself are savages.” She added thoughtfully, “I’m not so sure she doesn’t have a point there.”

“I’m a very civilized savage,” Aaron said, grinning. “I’d never disappoint my nephews; Rhyolite it is.”

Felicity didn’t like the way he said that. She looked again at Rhyolite. How difficult could it be to sit astride a horse and let it carry her around? She’d show Aaron Whitaker a thing or two. All she had to do was perfect some method of staying in the saddle. Say, super glue on the seat of her pants.

“Then certainly I’ll ride Rhyolite.” She hoped she sounded gracious rather than peeved. “I wouldn’t disappoint the boys for the world. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to be going.”

Not ready to end the conversation, Aaron moved to block her. The way Pete and Joey took everything Felicity said to heart made Aaron wonder if the woman was such a skilled manipulator of men, she could entrap them at any age. He warned himself to arm his heart against her.

Maybe it was already too late. He stared at her slender face, large brown eyes, and full, sensuous lips. She wasn’t even his type, but he couldn’t wait to kiss her.

“Will you please move?” She glared up at him, eyes flashing nervously.

“Now, Miss Clayton, calm down.” He took her arm and walked her down the long hall, stopping before another stall. “You haven’t seen the rest of my horses, yet. This is Tornado, the stallion I just bought.”

He had never seen anything quite as peculiar as the look Felicity gave Tornado. Torn between laughter and an aching desire to kiss her, Aaron forced himself to drop her arm.

“Wonderful,” she said, with a complete lack of enthusiasm for the highly-bred quarter horse.

“He’s still a little nervous of the new surroundings.”

“Is that right?” Felicity muttered.

The stallion pawed the floor, tossed his head, bared his teeth, and twitched his tail. Aaron could have sworn Felicity backed up an inch at every twitch. In fact, she was backing steadily into him, oblivious of the fact that he stood directly behind her.

Far be it for him to disappoint a woman who had found a new and interesting way to get him to kiss her. Aaron put his hands at her waist and turned her to face him.

Her fixed, blank expression meant nothing to Aaron. He answered her invitation and pulled her into his arms. She felt sleek and perfect, and her tangy scent lingered in his nostrils.

He’d never experienced anything like her mouth. To his fascination, he discovered that braces altered the way his mouth fit over hers. Definitely, braces altered the texture of her lips.