Crazy for Cowboy (13 page)

He had to admit, under Sam’s tutelage his riding skills had improved. But that wasn’t saying much, considering where he’d started. He had no idea if his horsemanship would be good enough to get him through the movie.

“Good ridin’,” Sam complimented, moving his own horse alongside the dappled-gray. “I told ya I’d have ya lookin’ like a pro in no time.”

“And that’s the thing I’ve run out of.
Time.
Filming starts tomorrow.”

Sam patted him on the back. “Relax. I bin on some o’ those movie sets. If there’s any fancy ridin’ t’ be done, they bring in someone special t’ do it. If it’s jus’ a matter o’ ya sittin’ on a horse an’ trottin’ around, yull be fine.”

Brandon nodded and rubbed his eyes. For the last three days he’d been running on adrenaline. In order to accommodate as much riding as he could, he’d worked out a split shift at the restaurant. The schedule was catching up with him.

“Make sure ya get a good night’s rest, son. The pretty girls in the theater don’t wanna look at a cowboy with bloodshot eyes.”

Brandon was sure that the redness had as much to do with his allergies as lack of sleep. With all the extra contact he’d had with horseflesh, he’d been taking a full dose of antihistamines. In fact, it was probably time to pop another.

“Don’t worry, Sam. I’ll make sure I get some rest. After tonight.”

“Why? What’s up?”

“I have a date.”

Sam nudged him with his elbow. “Did you talk Doctor Em in t’ goin’ out with ya again?”

“Yup,” Brandon replied, doing his imitation of Gary Cooper.

The older man chuckled in approval. “Well, ya sly dog.”

* * *

Emily heard her own voice rise in panic. “What do you mean you can’t come until nine-thirty?”

“Sorry, Em. We had to reschedule the actors’ photo shoot,” Jackie explained from the other end of the telephone line. “If it’s too late, maybe we should get together another night.”

“No. It has to be tonight. Six o’clock. You promised.”

“I know. I’m sorry. But it’s not like the tea and cookies are going to go bad.”

Emily eyed the box of Oreos sitting on her kitchen counter. It was true. Chances are they wouldn’t go bad. In this lifetime.

She plugged in the kettle for a cup of tea and grabbed a fistful of cookies. She needed to calm down. She was starting to sound hysterical. If she kept it up, Jackie was going to put two and two together and arrive at the actual reason Emily had invited her over. To expose her link with Houston.

Brandon
, she reminded herself. The cowboy’s name was
Brandon
. And he wasn’t even a cowboy. Just an actor Jackie had coerced for her prank.

“You’re right, Jacks. I was hoping we’d have more time to talk. Nine-thirty is fine.” It was all she was going to get. It had to be fine.

“Okay, I’ll see you then.”

Emily listened to the dial tone, then placed the phone back in its cradle. Her brain worked frantically. What was she going to do now? Houston—correction—Brandon was due to arrive soon and Jackie, the guest of honor, was tied up at a photo shoot.

She forced herself to think rationally. Her revelation would just take place later than planned. In the meantime, she’d have to go through with the date. Otherwise, Brandon would get suspicious.

When the water came to a boil, Emily made herself a cup of herbal tea and snatched another cookie. She laced her fingers together and held the Oreo in both hands, trying to keep herself from shaking.

Why was she getting worked up? It was just a date. A movie. Nothing that would put her in a compromising position. So why were those pesky butterflies slamming around in her stomach? Or maybe it was the cookie bits, doing a whirling dervish. Either way, she didn’t like the feeling.

Emily fixed her attention on the kitchen clock. She watched as the minute hand ticked closer and closer to her fate. She finished her tea, rinsed her cup, and went to the bathroom to brush her teeth. It took her a good five minutes to remove all the traces of the Oreos from her molars.

She locked her apartment door with cold fingers and made her way to the lobby to find Brandon already there.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

“You didn’t. I just arrived.” He wrapped an arm around her and brought her close, kissing her full on the lips.

She melted into his arms. God, he smelled good. It should be illegal for a man to smell so delectable.

He opened the lobby door for her and ushered her into his car. Once there, she played it cool, chatting about her day at work, the migration habits of the monarch butterfly, and the effects of global warming on the environment—topics that, in no way, could be construed as romantic. She was pretty sure that if he’d had any hopes of a sexual encounter, she’d effectively crushed them with her lack of titillating conversation.

Regardless, Emily still felt a sense of trepidation as they entered the theater, popcorn and soda in hand. Sitting across from Brandon in a Japanese restaurant, had been one thing. It would have been difficult for the man to make a move on her then. But a darkened movie theater was an entirely different scenario. Jackie often boasted about her sexual conquests, made during
The Artist,
Midnight in Paris
and
Dr. Suess’ The Lorax.

As the film started, however, Emily sensed that she had little to worry about. Brandon seemed completely uninterested in her. He was scrunched down in his seat, with his cowboy hat pulled low, seemingly absorbed in the screen.

She was surprised he’d suggested the romantic comedy. It was a movie Emily had been hoping to see, she just hadn’t expected to find a cowboy willing to sit through a chick flick.

For the forty-eighth time that evening, she reminded herself that he wasn’t a cowboy. He was an actor. Naturally, he’d be interested in all kinds of movies.

The audience around her laughed. Emily looked up at the screen to see the hero emerge from the shower, dripping wet and running around with only a copy of Crime and Punishment to cover his assets.

A laugh erupted from Brandon. Actually, it was closer to a snort. If she hadn’t known better, she might have thought it was a snore. He jerked up and looked in her direction.

Emily smiled back at him, if only to keep up the pretence of the date. That he took the small gesture as an invitation was obvious. He reached for her hand and held it, smoothing his fingers over her flesh.

Her heart started to pound. This was it. Pretty soon his arm would be around her, his lips would be nibbling on her earlobe and then he would begin to trail soft kisses down her neck. She told herself that the excitement she felt was really the fear of having to fend him off.

But the fear, the excitement, or whatever it was, died after a few minutes, as her date’s hand went limp and his body slowly sank back into his chair.

* * *

“I loved the scene where he got caught in the shower.”

“That was funny,” Brandon agreed, as he fought his way through the traffic back to Emily’s place.

The shower bit was the only part of the film he’d actually seen. He’d dozed through the rest of the movie, waking only when the audience’s laughter jolted him. Unfortunately, instead of revitalizing him, his forty winks left him feeling dazed and even more exhausted.

“I was confused about the subplot,” Emily was saying. “Did you understand how the guy with the diamonds fit in?”

Brandon scratched his head. What guy? What diamonds? “No. I didn’t get that part either.”

He was glad she was in a talkative mood. Her chatter was helping to keep him awake. If he could just see her to her door, he vowed to have a little snooze in his car before driving home. He managed to conceal another yawn, while Emily was occupied with her watch. “You in a hurry?”

She quickly folded her arms onto her lap. “No, why do you think that?”

“’Cause that’s the fifth time you’ve checked your watch.” Brandon started to wonder just how well he’d hidden his fatigue from his date. Had she interpreted his lack of energy as a lack of interest? Was he about to get the heave ho?

“No. No, not at all. I was just hoping you’d be able to...come up and visit for a while.”

Brandon almost swallowed his tongue. He’d gone from feeling rejected to getting a proposition in three seconds flat.

What an offer! And she’d said it so beautifully, a mixture of sweet innocence with the spice of seduction behind it. It was the invitation he’d been dreaming of. But why did she have to make it now, when he had all the vigor of a wet noodle? Could he say no without offending her? If he did, would she ever invite him up again?

“Sure,” he told her. “I’d love to.”

* * *

The trap was set.

Emily checked her watch again. It was nine-fifteen. It would take them another five minutes to get to her place and another minute or so to park. Then she would lead Brandon up to her apartment. As soon as Jackie arrived, the hoax would be revealed and the tables would turn. The joke would be on them.

Just like clockwork, it was nine-twenty when Brandon pulled into an empty stall in visitor parking. Still playing his role as the gentleman cowboy, he came around to open her door. Although, she noticed it took him a rather long time to get to her side of the car.

Emily made her way to the front entrance. She half expected Brandon to take the keys and open the door for her, but when she swiveled around to look for him he was still several paces behind. She turned the key in the lock and swung the door open herself.

He finally caught up to her in the lobby. She waited until he was beside her, then gestured toward the elevator. He took the hint and started walking toward it. Slowly. Why was he so hesitant? He was just going to her home, after all. Not to the gallows.

When they got to her floor, Brandon lagged behind. She could hear his footsteps dragging across the carpet as he traipsed along.

She opened her apartment door and stepped back so he could go in first. He moseyed in, at a snail’s pace, then leaned against the wall.

“The living room is this way,” she said, lifting her arm to indicate the direction.

He followed her lead and walked toward the open area. “This is nice,” he said, looking around the room.

It was nice, Emily supposed. But more like a doll’s house than a home. There were no knickknacks and very few furnishings. What pieces she had chosen were white. She remembered her mother’s mortification when she’d first seen the couch and matching chair.

“But white will get dirty so fast,”
her mom had warned.

Emily eyed the upholstery with disdain. It looked as fresh and white as the day the delivery men had set it up. What did that say about her social life?

“Thanks. Have a seat,” she offered Houston, stealing another look at her watch.

Damn. It was nine-forty. It had taken Brandon much longer to get up than she’d expected. Jackie could be standing at the downstairs buzzer, waiting. She might have rung five or six times by now. She might have given up and gone home. “I just have to check my messages. I’ll be right back.”

She’d had the forethought to move her landline receiver into her bedroom. Checking messages was one of the excuses she’d planned, in case she had to stall for time. Emily slipped into her room, quietly locking the door behind her.

There was one message, probably from Jackie. Emily had an immediate urge to run down to the lobby, to make sure her friend didn’t leave. Then again, Jackie might have been calling from the theater to say she was going to be late. Either way, Emily reasoned she should listen to the message before she did anything else. She pressed her access code and waited for the voicemail to play.

“Hi, Em. Don’t get mad but I’m not going to be able to make it at all tonight—”

A quiet
no
escaped Emily’s lips as she heard Jackie’s words.

“The photo shoot is running longer than we’d planned. Sorry about that. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow. Bye.”

Emily’s fingers turn to ice. She was trapped in her condo with a man she barely knew. Sure, she’d kissed the guy. And let him touch every inch of her. But that was when he was Houston Saveloy. This man was Brandon Hollister, a fellow she’d never been introduced to.

She paced as she thought. What were her options? She couldn’t very well stay locked in her bedroom all night. He’d start to wonder what was going on and come looking for her.

She could tell him that she didn’t feel well. That was it. The ol’ proverbial headache. She was sure he’d get the hint and leave.

Emily flapped her arms in the air. Some revenge plot she’d planned. She couldn’t even get all the parties to show up at the proper time. It served her right for trying to be sneaky and underhanded. She should have dealt with the situation in a mature, straightforward manner. She should have confronted Brandon with Jackie’s ruse face to face.

Or maybe by telephone. Yeah, that was a better idea. She’d do the headache thing now and save the big confrontation for Ma Bell.

She reached for the doorknob, then remembered she was supposed to be in pain. She crinkled her brow and let her eyes half close. Quickly, she checked her expression in the mirror on her closet door. She really did look as though she had a headache. Not bad for an amateur.

She opened her bedroom door and made her way down the hall. “Houston?”

There was no reply. Perhaps he hadn’t heard her. He was deaf in one ear, after all.

Or was he? Had Sam made up that story about the bronco accident? She moved closer to the living room. “Houston?” Still no response. Maybe he’d gone.

It wasn’t until she stood in front of the couch that she realized the truth. He was gone, all right. Completely out. Unconscious. His hips were slumped forward, his head rested on the back of the couch, his arms flopped to either side as though he’d collapsed into his present position, asleep before he’d hit the upholstery.

“Houston?
Brandon?”

No reaction. The man was definitely out for the count. She leaned down to shake him and noticed those sensual lips of his pouting slightly as he slept.