Flirting with Texas (Deep in the Heart of Texas) (15 page)

“Lord have mercy,” he breathed.

“Okay, so they’re little.” She tried to tug the edges of the shirt from Beau’s hands and cover herself, but his
fingers had a death grip on the wet material. She gave up and let her hands fall back into the water. “All women can’t have boobs like Peggy Sue. Although I doubt if hers are even real. And as far as I’m concerned, those plastic surgeons who prey on women’s inferiority complexes should be hung up by their balls—”

Beau released the edges of her shirt and placed a hand over her mouth. “Shhh, when I’m looking at a work of art, I like complete silence.” His other hand came up and fingered the shirt out of the way so he could capture one breast in his hand. It fit perfectly in his palm, like his old Spalding baseball. Except it was warmer and much softer. He brushed his thumb over the pert little nipple, and Jenna moaned against his hand.

“It’s the color of flowers they have in the front of the Taj Mahal,” he said as he bent his head to the treasure he cradled in his hand. “Not ruby,” he breathed against the tip and it puckered prettily. “And not pale pink.” He kissed the soft spot above her nipple. “More of a mix between the two. A dusty rose, perhaps.”

She mumbled something behind his hand, but he ignored her and pulled her nipple between his lips for a thorough taste. Her hands came up and cradled his head, pulling him closer. He dropped his hand from her mouth, and her moans filled the room, along with his own. She tasted as good as she smelled, and he couldn’t seem to get enough. Once he had feasted on one pert breast, he moved to the next. This was the one with the mole right above it, and he kissed it before moving on to the sweet center.

“Beau!” she gasped his name when his teeth scraped across her nipple. She wiggled against his hard-on. While the friction of the wet jeans felt nice, it wasn’t nearly good
enough. He slid a hand down under the water to the button of her jeans. The zipper proved to be more difficult. And the wet denim impossible. She helped by tugging off her boots and standing up, but even with both of them pulling, they could only get her jeans down to mid-thigh. Still, that was enough to distract Beau from the task at hand.

Jenna’s hair below the waist was as sun-kissed as the hair above. And the way it nestled between those long legs was just about the prettiest thing Beau had ever seen.

“Would you quit gawking and help,” Jenna fumed.

“In a minute.” He leaned over and kissed the nest of curls. And for a few seconds, she didn’t say a word while he learned the taste of her. But when her knees started to buckle, he accepted the fact that they would need to get her pants off if they wanted to proceed.

Beau got to his feet. “Sit down and give me your legs.”

She followed his instruction, but not without putting in her two cents. “I don’t think this is a good idea, not with your hurt shoulder. Maybe we should—”

He grabbed each leg of her pants and tugged. Her jeans didn’t budge. Still, he wasn’t about to give up. Not when he was so close. So hurt shoulder or not, he tightened his grip and pulled for all he was worth. The pants came off so suddenly that he lost his balance. He dropped the jeans and made a grab for the towel rack. It held him only long enough to break his fall before the screws gave way and it ripped out of the wall.

Beau landed on the floor with a jarring thump, his feet still in the tub and the towel rack in hand. Jenna resurfaced from the water, her hair plastered over her face. She barely had time to push the strands back and glare at Beau before the lock clicked and the door was thrown open.

Beau’s back was to the door, but he didn’t need to turn around to know who had come into the bathroom without invitation. The hum of a battery-powered engine told him everything he needed to know.

“I don’t mind a little fun at bath time, Beauregard,” Minnie said, “but Miss Hattie’s doesn’t go in for that S & M shenanigans. So put the bar down and step away from the tub.”

Beau turned and stared at the woman in disbelief. “Doesn’t anyone in this house knock?”

Minnie jangled the key ring full of keys at him. “I did knock, but you two were making so much racket you couldn’t hear me. And I wouldn’t have bothered you at all if we didn’t have a visitor.”

Beau cringed. “Brant? Or Billy?”

Minnie smiled. “Sheriff Hicks. And I don’t think he’s here to say ‘howdy.’ ”

I
T TOOK
J
ENNA A LOT LONGER TO
recover from Minnie’s untimely arrival than it did Beau. Once he heard who was downstairs, a different person took over the body of the good ol’ cowboy. This man had a determined look and wasted no time getting to his feet, whipping a towel around his waist, and leaving the bathroom.

But not before Jenna and Minnie had gotten an eyeful.

“I don’t think Davy’s got one of those,” Minnie said as she turned her wheelchair around and followed Beau out of the room.

The mention of Davy had Jenna feeling instantly guilty. What had she been thinking barging in on Beau’s bath? Scrubbing his back and washing his hair? She had never done anything like that in her life. Not even with Davy. Of course, Davy was very modest about his body. Something Beau didn’t seem to be. He had traipsed around the camper in his underwear without the least bit of embarrassment. And maybe that was why she felt comfortable enough with him to intrude on his bath.

She had spent two solid days with him in close quarters.

She knew his habits almost better than she knew Davy’s. She knew that he liked his cereal soggy, hated peanut butter, and slept on his back with one knee bent and an arm flung over his head.

Wasn’t there a syndrome that people got when they were held captive with someone—some psychological thing that happened when they were forced into another person’s company? That had to be it. There was no other explanation for what she had allowed to happen in the bathtub. Or her sudden need to keep him here with her while she investigated what she’d overheard.

After talking things over with Beau, Jenna was more convinced than ever that her mother was a hen. All the pieces of the puzzle fell together. She wasn’t an oddball in a family of overachievers. She was just an ordinary duck in a family of swans.

She wrung out her soaking wet hair and wrapped it in a towel before putting on one of the robes that hung on the back of the door. She cleaned up the mess in the bathroom as best she could, mopping up the water on the floor and placing her shirt, jeans, and socks on the other towel rack that Beau hadn’t pulled out of the wall.

Beau and Minnie were gone by the time Jenna walked into the bedroom. Her mama—or her adopted mama—had always said that Jenna had killed more than a few cats with her curiosity, and Jenna was about to kill one more. There was no way that she could remain upstairs when the sheriff was there.

Since she couldn’t go downstairs in a bathrobe, Jenna searched through the huge walk-in closet for something to wear. It took longer than she thought. The clothes weren’t as skimpy as they were out-of-date and completely
unsuitable for west Texas heat. She finally settled on a pair of orange short shorts with an attached wide belt, the matching striped midriff top, and white boots. She figured if nothing else, her sixties-style outfit would go nicely in The Jungle Room.

When she got downstairs, Jenna found Baby, Sunshine, and Starlet clustered around the door of the library.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

Baby turned and held a finger to her red lips. “We’re trying to figure out why Sheriff Hicks is here,” she whispered.

“Maybe he just came to play cards,” Sunshine said with her wide-eyed vacant look, and Jenna had to wonder if the woman wasn’t suffering from a little bit of dementia. “He used to do that a lot before Brant and Beau showed up.”

“It’s not cards.” Starlet pulled her ear away from the door she’d had it pressed against. “He just said something about prostitution.” She glanced over at Jenna, and her face became extremely unfriendly. “I thought you said you had a boyfriend.”

Jenna tried to keep her gaze direct. “I do.”

“So why did you lock yourself in the bathroom with Beau?”

Realizing there was no way to explain her behavior, she tried to go back to the previous subject. “So why don’t you go in there and find out what he wants? Aren’t you part of the henhouse too? How long have you been here, Baby?”

“Forty-three years,” she cooed.

“And Sunshine?”

Sunshine looked thoroughly confused so Baby answered for her.

“Thirty-five.”

“See,” Jenna said. “You’ve got just as much right to hear what is going on as Minnie and Beau do.”

“Aren’t you going to ask me how long I’ve been here?” Starlet grumbled. Before Jenna could ask, she answered. “Over two years, which is much longer than you’ve known Beau.”

“Right,” Jenna said, not wanting to fight with the girl. “So you should be in there as well.”

Starlet didn’t look any happier. And Baby and Sunshine didn’t look convinced.

“I don’t know,” Baby said. “We might make things worse.”

“Nonsense.” Jenna tapped on the door. “There is strength in numbers. One for all and all for one—” The door was thrown open, and the three women behind her scattered like a bunch of chickens from a fox.

A silver fox in pressed jeans and a sky blue western shirt that did really great things to his eyes. Although once those eyes settled on her, they didn’t look all that happy.

“What?” he snapped.

Jenna smiled brightly. “The hens would like to be in on the conversation with the sheriff seeing as how what he has to say might affect them as well.”

“The hens?” He glanced behind her, and his brow arched. His gaze returned to her and slid slowly down her body, stopping at her exposed stomach before lifting back up to her eyes. “Sorry, but you’ll have to take that up with the go-go dancers’ union.”

“Very funny,” she whispered, “especially since you’re the reason I had to borrow clothes from Miss Hattie’s closet in the first place.”

A look entered Beau’s eyes that was heat and annoyance mixed together. “Thanks for reminding me.”

“Is that the new girl you hired?” a deep, masculine voice came from behind Beau. “Because I’d like to talk with her.”

The irritation in Beau’s eyes won out, and he stepped back.

“Jenna,” he said, “this is Sheriff Hicks. Sheriff, this is Jenna Jay Scroggs.” He paused for only a heartbeat before adding, “She’s a guest at the henhouse and a close personal friend.”

Jenna was so busy getting over the “close personal friend” thing that she barely paid attention to the man who got to his feet.

“Jenna?”

She stopped staring at Beau and looked at the sheriff. Recognition was instant. “Dusty?” She hurried across the room and flung her arms around the tall cowboy, squashing his hat in between them.

Dusty pulled back, looking thoroughly confused. “Please don’t tell me you work here.”

She took his hat from his hand and reshaped it. “I’m just visiting. And what are you doing here? I thought you were going to Houston to fight crime.”

His smile slipped. “I guess I got sick of the fighting. What about you? You still inciting riots?” He glanced down at her exposed stomach. “I figure you could incite a few in that get-up.”

She laughed, but it was cut short when Beau’s fingers curled around her waist and pulled her out of Dusty’s arms. His smile was as bright as always, but his eyes didn’t look friendly at all.

“So I guess introductions weren’t necessary,” he said. “How do you two know each other?”

Dusty winked at her, and Beau’s fingers tightened. “We met during a protest at Texas Tech. I was the one sent to keep things peaceful and had the job of dealing with a pain-in-the-butt blonde who was not satisfied until the dean agreed to change the menu in the campus cafeteria.”

“All I wanted was chicken fried steak,” she said. “Was that too much to ask for?”

“I guess not,” Dusty said. “You ended up getting it. So how did you meet the owner of Miss Hattie’s?”

Jenna opened her mouth to answer, but Beau cut her off.

“On a carriage ride in Central Park.” He tugged her close, completely ignoring the elbow she shoved in his stomach. “She’s taken me for quite a ride ever since.”

Minnie cackled, drawing everyone’s attention. She sat in one corner of the room, looking as pleased as punch. “So as you can see, Sheriff, there’s nothing shady going on at Miss Hattie’s. It’s just a bunch of everyday people going about their everyday lives.”

The smile dropped from Dusty’s face and was replaced with a more intense look. “I hope so, Miz Minnie. I would hate to have to close you down.” He smoothed out the brim of his hat and placed it on his head. “Because if I find out differently, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” He turned his attention to Beau. “And as the owner, Mr. Cates, you’ll be the one spending time behind bars.”

Beau’s smile remained intact, but there was an edge to his eyes that didn’t look so cordial. “I’ll remember that, sheriff.”

Dusty nodded before he moved toward the door.

“Wait, Dusty,” Jenna said, “I’ll walk you out.”

Beau’s hand tightened on her waist, but released after only a second. “Don’t be long, sweetheart.”

Once they were out on the front porch, Dusty glanced over at her. “So what happened to the tattooed rocker dude that kept you from going out with me?”

Jenna could’ve explained her relationship with Beau to Dusty. They had become close friends after the protest, meeting for coffee on the nights that Davy had gigs, and Dusty had always been easy to talk with. But for some reason, she kept it simple.

“We broke up.”

He nodded. “Davy always seemed like a self-centered deadbeat to me. Not to say that people with as much money as the Cateses can’t be assholes. I still don’t understand their interest in Miss Hattie’s.”

“So what’s going on, Dusty?” she asked as she followed him out to his squad car. “You can’t seriously think that Beau and a bunch of old women are into prostitution.”

He pulled a pair of aviator sunglasses out of the breast pocket of his uniform and put them on. Jenna had to admit he was one fine-looking cowboy. Not as fine as some cowboys, but still handsome enough for a girl to notice.