Millionaire in a Stetson (7 page)

“You think?” asked Niki, catching a glimpse of herself in a distant mirror. She had to admit, she liked the look.

“But why didn’t you say something?”

“About what?”

“Your sense of style. You’re always wearing such plain clothes. You downplay everything.” Katrina studied her new appearance from head to toe. “Do you have contacts?”

“Somewhere,” Niki admitted, knowing she shouldn’t, but feeling incredibly tempted. If she was going to dress up, it was hard to go halfway. There had to be a spare pair of contacts squirreled away in her purse.

“Find them,” said Katrina. “We’re going for a makeover. Travis is going to eat his wor—” She shut her mouth, swallowing convulsively.

“Eat his what?” Niki couldn’t help but ask.

“His hat,” Katrina said brightly.

“You were going to say his words.”

The guilt all but radiated off Katrina.

“What were his words, Katrina?”

“Nothing important. That necklace is spectacular on you.”

“You have to tell me.”

“No, I don’t.”

“If you don’t tell me what he said, how am I going to know what I’m up against?”

“You’re not up against anything.” Katrina circled her, eyeing up the dress from every angle.

“Give,” Niki insisted.

Katrina frowned and drew a melodramatic breath. “He said you seemed like the tomboy type.”

Niki didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. In creating Nellie, she was going for the polar opposite of her real self, and it seemed as if she’d succeeded. “I’ve never been called that before.”

Then again, she’d never spent any time working on a construction crew, either. Her gaze was drawn back to the mirror. If not for the hair and glasses, she really would knock ’em dead in this outfit. The fabric was a viscose crepe, puckered to reflect the light, but tight enough to whet a man’s imagination. The short hemline and the high shoes gave the illusion her legs were long, and the neckline showed just enough cleavage to be interesting.

She reached up to touch her short locks.

“Madeline over at Lush Cuts can do wonders,” Katrina whispered.

“Do we have time for all that?” They’d barely started shopping, and it was after five already.

“Oh, honey,” Katrina ushered her back into the change room. “The men will wait.”

Three dresses, two pairs of shoes, and one hair trim later, Niki sat in a leather recliner, her feet soaking in a small tub of water.

“I told you Madeline would work wonders,” said Katrina from the chair beside her.

“She must have magic mousse,” Niki responded. She was amazed at how full and rich her hair looked. It seemed lighter in color, too, curling around her ears and along the base of her neck.

“You’re beautiful, Nellie,” said Katrina, squeezing her hand. “I don’t know why you hide it so hard.”

Niki’s chest suddenly went tight. She closed her eyes, and for several minutes, imagined she was a little girl again. Her mother was sitting next to her, sharing a pedicure, touching her hand, telling her she was beautiful. It was one of Niki’s earliest memories.

She felt her eyes tear up, and she blinked rapidly against the onslaught of emotion.

“Hey,” Katrina sing-songed. “What’s going on in there?”

“Thinking about my mother.” Niki lifted her lashes, noting the look of kindness in Katrina’s eyes. “She loved pedicures.”

Katrina nodded her understanding. “What was her favorite color?”

“Fire-engine red. She liked it in a lipstick, too.” A small tear escaped, trickling slowly down Niki’s cheek. “She used to tell me red got a man’s attention, and everything good in life started with a man’s attention.”

Katrina arched a brow. “Seriously? Was she that far behind the times?”

Niki couldn’t help but smile. “That’s a good way to put it. She loved glitz and glamour. I can easily see her with a long cigarette holder, huge false eyelashes and a flapper dress with a headband. She’d have made some gangster a serious moll.”

Katrina laughed. “My mother is as down to earth as they come. She’s a lot like Mandy. I don’t think she had the first clue of what to do with a daughter like me.”

The esthetician dried Niki’s feet and deftly rubbed in some lotion.

“I bet she baked cookies,” Niki guessed.

“She makes every kind imaginable, oatmeal, chocolate chip, peanut butter, and something called monster cookies that I swear have whipped cream in the middle.”

“We had standing reservations at—” Niki caught herself. She’d nearly named an iconic New York City restaurant. “Many fine restaurants,” she finished.

“You ate out a lot?”

“All the time. Mom didn’t cook.”

“Not at all?”

“Occasionally, she managed toast.”

“You had nothing but toast for breakfast? How did you concentrate at school?”

Niki couldn’t help but smile once more at the thought of school. “We traveled a lot,” she told Katrina. “Paris, Moscow, Rio. Technically, I was registered at the Melbourne Academy, but they’re pretty flexible. I mostly learned on my own, or from tutors. Luckily, I was a quick study. So I easily passed most exams.”

Katrina was looking at her oddly.

Sure, Niki knew it was a strange childhood. But Gabriella was restless. She hated to stay too long in one place. Every school year, she promised Niki it would be different. But if they made it through the end of September in their penthouse, it was a banner achievement.

“I thought the Melbourne Academy was in New York,” said Katrina.

Niki’s thoughts stumbled again. “There must be more than one of them.”

“Really?”

For a wild moment, Niki wanted to tell Katrina the whole truth, let the chips fall where they may and get rid of the lump that had lodged itself permanently in her stomach.

“Which color would you like?” the esthetician asked Niki. “Red, violet and copper are our most popular. Or you can choose from the Shimmer Collection or Premier.”

Niki looked to the young woman sitting near her feet.

Katrina jumped in. “She wants peach pulse, with gold glitter tips.”

“I do?”

“Trust me, you do.”

Niki pictured her open toed shoes, the dress, the jewelry. Katrina’s suggestion sounded fabulous.

“You’re very good at this,” she told her.

Katrina grinned. “Purple sky for me.” She cocked her head to Niki. “That’s Reed’s favorite.”

For a moment, Niki couldn’t help but feel envious of Katrina. She’d love to end this evening in the arms of a boyfriend, lounging together in bed, maybe in a bubble bath, sipping a final glass of champagne while streaks of dawn brightened the sky. It had been a long time since she’d had a truly romantic night out.

Her brain moved to Sawyer, and his amazing kisses. He’d be a wonderful lover. He had to be. She remembered how great his body looked at the river. Though she couldn’t exactly picture him in a bubble bath.

“Travis is going to love your outfit,” Katrina put in.

Right. Travis. Niki had completely forgotten about Travis.

“Tomboy,” Katrina said, shaking her head. “Man, is he in for a surprise.”

Niki returned Katrina’s smile. It was fun to dress up and look sophisticated again. But she couldn’t quash the feeling of disappointment that Sawyer wouldn’t be there to see it.

* * *

Sawyer could not get Niki out of his mind. He’d lain awake two nights running, reliving the feel of her slick, wet body pressed up against his. When he thought about her kisses, his body ratcheted up with lust, urging him to track her down and do whatever it took to get her into his bed.

Outside the Lyndon City arena, the cavernous building pulsed with the sounds of a country band and the whoops of hundreds of people enjoying the rodeo dance. He steeled himself against seeing her again. He had to keep his mind clear, or he wouldn’t be able to do his job.

“Good luck finding her in all this,” said Dylan as they made their way through the doorway and across the foyer.

Sawyer pulled out his wallet and handed a fresh-faced, female door volunteer a twenty.

She stamped his hand with a blue, long-horn head. “Welcome to the Buckaroo Ball.”

Sawyer couldn’t help but grin at the combination of the name, the stamp, the music and the overall ambiance.

“Not your usual crowd?” Dylan guessed as he handed over his own twenty-dollar bill.

Sawyer surveyed the hundreds of dancers, men in everything from suits and string ties to faded blue jeans and scuffed boots. Most wore Stetsons, and many twirled their partners around in square-dance formation.

There were women in gingham and crinolines, wide skirts that flared out as they whirled. Others wore blue jeans and ponytails. While some were decked out in cocktail dresses and jewelry that could have easily fit in at the Ritz.

“What makes you think I prefer my usual crowd?” he asked Dylan. “This looks like fun.”

Sawyer had gone with a pair of blue jeans, a white, Western shirt, and a black blazer, topping the outfit with a white, curved-brim Stetson. As they moved into the crowd, he and Dylan received friendly glances from a number of women. A perky brunette in a fitted, white, off-the-shoulder, full-skirted dress gave Dylan a long, alluring gaze.

“I’m having fun already,” said Dylan.

“She thinks you’re a bronc rider,” Sawyer warned.

“I am a bronc rider, and a steer roper and—”

The woman’s mouth curved into a broad, sparkling smile.

“Catch you later,” Dylan said to Sawyer, tipping his hat to the woman and offering his arm for a dance.

Letting his grin fade away, Sawyer began moving methodically through the crowd, scanning as he made his way in the general direction of a bar. His gaze passed over the back of a sexy woman in a glimmering gold dress that dipped low and hugged her rear end. He felt a jolt to his solar plexus.

He paused, staring at her.

She turned, and he saw her profile. It was Niki.

She was speaking with a man, laughing at something he had said. She held a glass of white wine in one hand, her fingernails shimmering against the pale liquid. Her glasses were gone. Her makeup was perfect, and her hair was fluffed and curled, looking beautifully feminine, emphasizing her delicate features.

She looked over at him and their gazes met. A shower of sparks seemed to flash through his body, making him nearly burn, before they rushed away, leaving longing in their wake. Now,
this
was the Niki he’d expected when he first came to Colorado.

He took an automatic step toward her, while her companion stopped talking, looking confused. Then the man followed her line of sight and saw Sawyer baring down. His eyes narrowed.

“Hello, Nellie,” Sawyer opened. “You look lovely tonight.”

“John Reynolds,” the man beside her announced as he stuck out his hand. It was a challenge more than a greeting.

“Sawyer Smith,” Sawyer returned, shaking, taking his eyes off Niki for only the barest of seconds. “Pleased to meet you.”

John Reynolds glanced from Sawyer to Niki. “You know this guy?”

“He’s my neighbor,” she answered, her own gaze still resting on Sawyer.

Then she seemed to catch herself, and she returned her attention to John. “He just bought the Raklin Place, across from Reed and Caleb.”

“Oh, new in town,” John observed, his arms crossing over his broad chest.

He wore a blue plaid shirt, the sleeves rolled up, and a new pair of blue jeans. His face was clean shaven, and his hair was trimmed neat. But there was something keenly predatory and proprietary in his eyes. His hands were beefy and strong, liberally covered in calluses.

The thought of him touching Niki sent Sawyer’s blood pressure climbing. Every instinct he possessed told him to get her away from this guy.

“New in town,” Sawyer acknowledged.

He returned his attention to Niki, vaguely annoyed now that she’d dressed to the nines. Didn’t she know what kind of attention she’d attract?

“Nellie,” came a new voice, and Travis Jacobs stepped up, beaming at her. “I believe you promised me a dance.”

And, just like that, Niki was swept onto the dance floor, and Sawyer was left standing next to John.

“I realize you’re new in town,” said John. “But I’m going to warn you—”

“That Nellie is taken?” Sawyer arched a brow, watching her smile in Travis’s arms. At the moment, he was jealous of Travis, not John.

“I have no desire to fight you,” John warned.

Sawyer nodded to Niki and Travis on the dance floor. “It doesn’t look like I’m the one you’ll have to fight.” Though Sawyer felt like taking on Travis himself all of a sudden.

Why did Niki look so relaxed and happy with Travis Jacobs? And why were they suddenly a thing? Both of them had been at the construction barbecue. And they’d both been at the river swim. Travis hadn’t shown any interest in Niki then, nor she in him.

“They’re practically family,” said John, but his gaze narrowed on Travis.

The music crested toward the end of the song, and Sawyer asked himself why he was wasting any more time talking to John. He set a course for Niki, and stepped up, just as the music faded.

“Dance?” he asked her, ignoring the glare Travis sent his way.

Niki shot a quick, questioning glance to Travis, but then nodded her agreement to Sawyer.

He drew her into his arms. Thankfully, the next tune was slow, and he had an excuse to pull her in close. Her compact curves moved up against him, thighs touching his, breasts brushing his chest. If he looked down, he could see the delightful curve of her cleavage, creamy breasts draped in shimmering gold.

“John seems to like you,” Sawyer opened, seeking information.

She tipped her chin, looking up at him, her movements sinuously matching his own. “He’s a nice guy.”

“Nice, as in you’d like to share an iced tea at the kitchen table? Or nice as in you’d like to share a moonlight walk by the lake?”

“Aren’t you nosey.”

“I thought you might like to know that he’s thinking about the moonlight walk, and more.”

“Have I done something to make you think I’m stupid?”

Sawyer was beginning to think she was brilliant, cunningly and deviously brilliant. She’d co-opted half of Lyndon Valley by blinking her big green eyes and pouting those sexy, red lips. And right now, she had three different men vying for her.