The Counterfeit Cowgirl (11 page)

When she began exploring his big body with her hands, he groaned aloud.

“Hey,” he whispered, against her soft, springy hair. “If you don’t cut that out, I’ll throw you down and ravish you right here on this porch.”

Felicity stiffened. What was she doing, cavorting with the enemy like this? He didn’t want her. He was another would-be country singing star who probably wanted to use her relationship to Becky Lozano to promote his singing career.

Or so she had better convince herself.

Aaron drew back slightly and gave her a tender smile. “Not that ravishing you on the porch isn’t something I’d like very much to try.”

She blanked out the interesting image his words conjured. “I’ll bet. Well, let me tell you something, Mr. Whitaker.”

“Since we’re going to be friends now, don’t you think we ought to be on a first-name basis?”

Friends? She blinked at him. Usually, men tried to get her into bed right away in hopes Becky would hear about it and start looking into musical opportunities for her baby’s new boyfriend.

“You’re right, honey.” Aaron grinned when she stared back at him in disbelief. “I don’t want to be just your friend.”

“Is that so?” Here was where he should suggest that they adjourn to the bedroom.

“Friends don’t exchange kisses as potent as this one.”

“What?”

Potent kisses? She was losing it. Felicity squeezed her eyes shut and struggled to think straight.

“In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever kissed anyone before and almost went up in flames,” he pursued.

That did it. If she didn’t shut him up, she might let herself be seduced by words. She had to admit, Aaron had a much better idea of how to go about getting her into bed than the others who had tried.

She ignored the knowledge that Aaron had given no sign of fawning over Becky, or of even mentioning his one-time efforts as a country singer while Becky was there. Perhaps he was just more clever than the others.

She whisked herself out of his loosened hold and threw up her hand. “Hold it right there, Aaron Whitaker. My mother raised me better than to go around kissing strange men in public, even if it is my own front porch.”

“I don’t doubt it.” He laughed outright. “But I thought that since you’ve spent your entire life doing exactly as you please in spite of your mother … ”

Felicity sputtered. How had she gotten herself into this? More to the point, how would she extricate herself?

“I mean,” Aaron said softly, “I thought that since you’ve successfully evaded every other plan your mother made for your life, why not sit down here on the edge of the porch and kiss me again?”

Felicity managed an affronted sniff, but it sounded forced even to her own ears. “I don’t want to kiss anyone, thank you very much. I’m a busy woman.”

“You could make time to kiss me if you wanted to,” Aaron coaxed. He put out both hands, slow and easy, and framed her face lightly with his fingertips, barely touching her soft, vital skin. “Please, honey. Let me show you how it can be between us. Kiss me again.”

Felicity wavered. His rich, gravelly voice poured over her head like thick molasses, drowning her in liquid sweetness that penetrated her pores and set fire to her senses. A man with such a voice should be banned, she thought. He ought not be allowed to speak to susceptible women.

“You’re a beautiful, passionate woman,” he whispered, bending toward her. “We could make music together that would outclass anything the best musicians could play.”

Felicity came back to herself abruptly and stepped back. “Sorry. As I told you before, I’m completely tone-deaf. Even my mother admits I can’t carry a tune.”

“Felicity, wait. Don’t go. Please come back.”

Felicity made sure his last sentence was addressed to the closing door. She slammed it shut and shoved a chair beneath the doorknob for good measure.

She gasped for breath and clasped a hand over her pounding heart. She staggered toward the couch and collapsed upon it.

She bent forward and pressed her forehead against her knees. Aaron wanted to be a country musician, and she’d better not forget the fact. Now that he knew she was Becky Lozano’s daughter, he was coming on exactly as she’d expected. The question was how long could she resist him? She’d never been tempted like this before, not even by handsome, smooth-talking Gary Carlisle.

She heard the pounding start again and almost moaned aloud with dismay. Every nail he drove seemed to cement the relationship Felicity preferred to think was nonexistent, but she didn’t dare open the door and chase him off. She’d probably wind up in his arms again.

She reminded herself he didn’t care anything about her as a woman. After all, he hadn’t pretended to even like her until he found out she was Becky Lozano’s daughter. She ignored the fact that he had kissed her in his barn at the barbecue — that didn’t count. He probably kissed a lot of women. A man didn’t necessarily have to like a woman in order to want to kiss her. Did he?

Well, he might have fooled Becky with his concerned act, but he certainly couldn’t fool Becky’s daughter. Felicity had too much experience with would-be country musicians.

Later that afternoon, she answered the kitchen phone, figuring it was a summons to Aaron’s house for supper.

“My goodness,” Becky said mildly. “Aren’t we snappish today. What are you doing, baby?”

“I’m sorting through one-million moldy old magazines, that’s what I’m doing. Where are you, Mama?”

“I’m in Tulsa, sugar. Me and Randy gotta do a big show tonight.”

Felicity viewed this information with a jaundiced eye and mentally calculated the distance of Tulsa, Oklahoma, from Foxe, Texas. “Shouldn’t you be rehearsing?”

“We’ve already rehearsed,” Becky said cheerfully. “Now I want you going next door to Aaron’s house for supper tonight. You hear me?”

“Yes, Mama.” There was no way she was eating at Aaron’s house, but she didn’t need to tell Becky that.

“I’ve already told him to feed you some of that good home-grown beef of his.” She digested Felicity’s lack of protest and added, “I hope you ain’t thinkin’ Aaron is anything like that nasty, ol’ Gary Carlisle, baby. You can take it from your mama, he ain’t.”

“No, Mama,” Felicity said.

Becky probably didn’t know about Aaron’s aborted career. At the moment, Felicity didn’t feel up to telling her.

“Aaron would never dream of endangerin’ my baby’s life again with some wicked scheme just to make himself look heroic,” Becky continued.

“No, Mama.”

“Well, I can see you ain’t gonna be sensible about this, and I ain’t no matchmakin’ mama, so I’ll just say this,” Becky said. “Accept the man’s hospitality, baby. He wants to make it up to you, so why not let him?”

Felicity hung up, doubly resolved not to go anywhere near Aaron. He had spent the entire morning driving nails into loose boards on her house. Apparently, he was very serious about reviving his singing career.

Felicity bathed and put on a white denim skirt and a fringed blue western shirt with a pair of white boots. A clothing saleswoman had to consider herself on display at all times, so she inserted a pair of dangling silver and turquoise earrings and slipped on a matching bracelet. Her only other jewelry was a wide, leather belt with a silver and turquoise buckle.

The telephone rang. “Yes, Mama?”

A deep, rich chuckle answered her. “Sorry,” Aaron said. “I was calling to invite you to supper tonight. Polly’s cooking chicken-fried steak and mashing real potatoes.”

Felicity’s mouth watered, but she refused to give in. “Thanks, but I’m busy tonight.”

“Come on, honey,” Aaron coaxed. “You’ll never get anything nearly as good as Polly’s chicken-fried steak.”

“I’m sure it’s very good,” Felicity said. “But I’ve got several errands to run this evening, so I can be home tomorrow while the man finishes covering the well and the roofer comes out to check the roof.”

“You still have to eat,” Aaron said, mildly. “How about a few meals at my expense?”

“Not tonight, thank you.”

Obviously, Aaron was unused to hearing the word no, but Felicity repeated it until he gave up. She grabbed her purse and truck keys, stepped out the front door and locked it, then glared at the house next door.

Aaron’s blue truck wasn’t there, but then, she hadn’t expected it to be. The man had to work sometime. Car dealerships didn’t run themselves.

She refused to recognize the slight letdown she felt upon realizing Aaron wasn’t present to admire her outfit. It was ridiculous. After all, Aaron wasn’t likely to patronize The Cosmic Cowgirl Boutique.

However, the women working in a store that sold cell phones might like her clothes. Felicity had noticed an electronics store on the main highway that ran through town, and she needed a cell phone that would work in this town.

She drove there and went in, pleasantly conscious of every eye in the store turning her way, and walked up to the display of cellular phones. As a saleswoman, she had always owned the latest model Blackberry or smart phone, and it gave her perverse pleasure to choose an inexpensive little cell phone with basic text and phone service, since that was all she really needed for the next two weeks. Becky would be happy and so would the sales staff at Cosmic Cowgirl. Everyone could get in touch with her easily for as long as she remained in Foxe.

She waited while the young man running the phone center set up the phone service and rang up her ticket. He divided his attention between her and her phone.

“Don’t I know you?” he asked, when he presented her at last with her new phone.

“I don’t think so.” She gave him her most professional smile. “I just arrived in town a few days ago.”

“You were at the Whitaker Chevrolet barbecue,” he said.

“Yes, I was.”

“Everyone was talking about you.” His admiring gaze ran over her from head to toe.

“I hope so.” She produced a Cosmic Cowgirl business card and handed it to him. “If you have any female friends or family who enjoy western clothes, have them look us up online.”

He stared at the card a moment then gazed dreamily on her once more. “Trust old Aaron Whitaker to pick a lady with real class.”

Felicity got back in her truck, steaming. If she denied being Aaron’s lover, that would cement the idea in people’s heads for sure. She would like to bang her purse over Aaron’s head, after she loaded it with a brick.

She caught sight of Whitaker Chevrolet as she neared the freeway. Rows of cars and trucks reflected the fierce blaze of the late afternoon sun. She ought to go find that brick right now, then march in there and let him have it.

She surprised herself by turning suddenly into the dealership’s entrance, but she didn’t question her own actions until she had climbed out of her own Dodge pickup and felt the heat radiating up from the concrete beneath her feet.

She walked slowly down a row of gleaming new trucks and argued with herself. Telling herself a cowgirl needed to keep up with what Chevrolet had to offer in the way of trucks was such an obvious lie that she could not coax herself into accepting it for long.

She should get back in her own truck and flee. But since she was here, she reasoned, she might as well look over the stock. Aaron never needed to know she had been here.

“Well, lookee here.” A rangy young man came toward her from between two new trucks, trailed by a saleswoman who tried in vain to snag his arm. He wore a wide, brown cowboy hat, a large silver belt buckle, and a pair of boots with high heels. Felicity figured if he wasn’t a rodeo star, he fancied himself one.

“It’s gotta be the barrel-racing champ of Southeast Texas. Hello there, honey,” the man added.

“You get on out of here, Jake,” the saleswoman accompanying him said. “You’re drunk.”

“Shut up, Meggie,” Jake said. “I got better business than trucks to transact. This cute little heifer and me’s got a date at the nearest rodeo arena.”

Felicity smiled at the woman. “That’s right. Jake and I have a date to discuss a fine little life insurance policy I just happen to be selling.”

Jake’s hazy eyes focused on her. “Life insurance?”

“That’s right. Whenever I go out with someone who drinks, I take the precaution of insuring his life in my favor. That way, if he smashes up his vehicle and causes any damages to my person, I’m fairly compensated.” She fished around in the depths of her saddle-shaped purse. “I sell insurance. I just happen to have a fantastic little policy right here from Cow Country Mutual that would be just right for these circumstances.”

“Excuse me, ma’am.” Jake’s hazy blue eyes focused on her purse with fascinated horror. “Just remembered. Got a business appointment in five minutes.

Felicity smiled with friendly understanding. “Listen, Jake, if I can ever help you with any of your insurance needs, here’s my card.” She produced a Cosmic Cowgirl business card.

Jake fled down a row of gleaming trucks before she could hand him the card.

“Beautifully done,” Aaron said from behind her. “Have you ever actually sold insurance?”

Felicity turned slowly. He had appeared out of nowhere and leaned against the shining red hood of an extended cab pickup. He wore jeans that hugged his long legs and a short-sleeved, pale blue western shirt that was open at the neck. He looked like something she’d love to get her hands on.

The moment that thought crossed her mind, Felicity decided retreat was the better part of valor. “As a matter of fact, I have. But I prefer a tangible product I can point to, like a tractor.”

“I’ll bet you could sell drinking water to mermaids.” Aaron took her arm to prevent her from escaping down the same row of trucks as Jake. “I’ll take over here, Megan.”

Felicity balked. “You’d better leave me with Megan. At the moment, I’m just admiring the stock.”

“I can understand why you chose that flashy Dodge of yours,” Aaron said smoothly. “But you’ll find Chevrolets are the truck of choice for true Texas cowgirls.” He flashed his slow, charm-loaded smile. “Allow me to direct your attention to the features a working cowgirl such as yourself will find most useful.”

“Oh, spare me.” Felicity tried to remove her arm from his grip. “For your information, I chose that Dodge because the color complements my skin. I’m a fall.” She knew Aaron would probably have never heard of grouping women’s proper color palettes into seasons.