Thorndike Press Large Print Romance Series (Hardcover)
Available beginning June 20, 2006
Buy it here from Amazon or Barnes and Noble or Thorndike Press
Chapter One
All I need is one cowboy for one night. No problem.
Lacey Murdock sat fidgeting in her car in the parking lot of the Rockin' Ranch country music bar. Earl, as usual. She planned to use the extra time to calm her inevitable panic attack. She hated the feeling.
Her heart thundered and felt like it was ready to jump out of her chest. Her mouth was parched. Cottonmouth, she thought. With trembling fingers, she unfastened her seat belt. It suddenly felt much too confining, the shoulder belt threatening to choke the courage out of her.
I can do this. Forcing herself to breathe normally, she rolled down the window, immediately feeling relief as the balmy evening air cooled her damp skin.
She tilted the rearview mirror toward her and stared, taking a critical look at herself. Hair okay. Her thick, wavy dark hair fell to the middle of her back and shone with newly foiled auburn highlights. Setting gel kept its frizziness to a minimum, and she raked her fingers through the curls to lift them away from her hot neck.
Makeup okay. Lacey stared into her own eyes; the lilac eye shadow made her hazel eyes look green in the dim light. She blended the color with her little finger and checked for eyeliner smudges. Her makeup was much heavier than she was used to wearing, and the colors a shade brighter.
It's funny. I spend all day helping men and women enhance their looks, try new things, and I can't quite transfer the idea to me.
She readjusted the mirror, put her keys in her pocket, and slipped the skinny strap of her tiny new "going out" purse over her shoulder. She could already feel her stomach tighten with a bit of nausea. Oh, great. No, I can do this. I just need to relax. Replace the oxygen, breathe deep five times.
Lacey stayed in the car just long enough to take five measured breaths. The technique helped to calm her nerves and she used it at least once a day--whenever there was a new salon client, whenever she had to counsel one of the other stylists.
At thirty-two she was finally making a decent living as the working manager of a mall-based hair salon in a suburb of San Diego. She'd survived a rough year, mostly by working hard, keeping herself distracted, and surrounding herself with happy people. People who really cared about her.
Tonight, though, her breathing exercise didn’t seem to help much.
Outside the car, Lacey listened to the sound drifting from the windows of the Rockin' Ranch. She decided the music and conversation were definitely too loud--and too cheerful for her precarious mood.
The building that housed the bar looked like a barn, but with a wide porch that wrapped around the side and bordered the parking lot. Large rustic chairs lined the porch, ready and waiting for couples looking for a break from the heat of the dance floor. A few love seats were already filled with early arrivals, many of the women sitting on the laps of their dates.
As Lacey crossed the parking lot, she saw that most of the men sported the standard western look: cowboy hats, jeans, and boots. She couldn't help noticing that the majority of the jeans were tight, accentuating long legs and firm buns. It had been quite a while since she'd even allowed herself to look. Now she found herself actually examining the men. She hoped the dark concealed her blush.
She scanned the parking lot for Kandy's pink Jeep. No sign of it. Her friend was habitually lat e, and even though she was accustomed to it, she didn't relish the idea of entering the bar alone. She approached the porch with her head held high and her lips in a forced smile, silently reciting her new mantra: I can do this, I can do this.
A deep breath filled her lungs with the fragrance of night-blooming jasmine, and Lacey noticed a tall hedge of the flowers bordering the back of the parking lot. Better check there for Kandy's car, she thought, just in case.
As she followed the porch around the rear of the building, it widened into a large wooden deck, adjacent to the club's back door. A van was being unloaded nearby. As she scooted to a far corner of the deck to get out of the way, two men hurriedly carried a large amplifier up the steps and into the doorway, obviously on their way to the stage inside.
On the side of the van Lacey could just make out the words "Southern Comfort." The band was local, she knew, and quite popular. Kandy claimed they were the best country band around and she was a bit of a groupie, with a desperate crush on the lead singer.
Lacey instantly felt more comfortable in the darkness, alone on the deck. She leaned against the rail, laying her purse down. Recorded music drifted outside, and she began to move to the music, practicing a simple two-step, catching the beat, counting quietly out loud. "One, two, one . . . two. One, two, one . . . two."
She closed her eyes and lifted her arms, an imaginary partner in her arms. Her biggest fear was that she would end up stumbling awkwardly through her first dance. It had been a long time since she'd been on a dance floor, let alone dancing something as specific as a two-step, rudimentary as it was. Eyes still closed, she continued to move rhythmically, dancing blindly into the middle of the deck, counting softly to keep herself in step.
* * *
Jared Conrad ran long, calloused fingers through his hair in a feeble attempt to tame its wildness. Long days outside in the weather rendered an almost permanent windblown look. Subtle blond highlights blended with the gray that had become more prominent in his brown hair since he'd reached the deadly forties.
He sighed and shook his head. That's as good as it gets. He was already impatient for the evening to be over, even though he was grateful for the extra money the summer gig would provide. Even for short periods of time, he had trouble leaving his mountain and ranch behind. And Jamie.
He didn't particularly like being on stage, though playing bass in a country band was about as easy a job as he could imagine. He'd go insane if he didn't spend part of every day outside, though, and he knew he'd made the right choice in buying the llama ranch outside San Diego.
Being his own boss, setting his own hours, taking time to do the job right--each was important to him. Even though he had the pressure of being totally responsible for every little detail, he wouldn't have it any other way. He'd grown to prefer the solitude, the freedom. No one to interfere, no one trying to change things.
Jared locked up his truck and walked across the parking lot. His gaze stopped when he saw a woman who was carefully two-stepping to the soft music that filtered out the back door. It was evident he was about to interrupt a practice session and, although he knew he should make some noise in warning, he couldn't bring himself to disrupt the vision of her innocent dance.
Instead, he noiselessly positioned himself at the top of the stairs, crossed his arms, and watched. He openly stared, watching her full black skirt do a dance of its own, swirling around shapely legs. His gaze moved upward to her white cotton blouse, buttoned all the way to the neck, meticulously pressed. Perhaps because she was dressed so conservatively, he found himself wondering what her skin looked like. To his surprise, he found himself wondering what it might feel like.
* * *
Lacey had fallen into the natural rhythm of the music, her feet moving perfectly to the beat. I can do this. She sighed with relief and opened her eyes.
"Oh!" She inhaled sharply and stumbled into Jared's arms.
Jared instinctively tightened his hold on her and felt his senses suddenly overload. In the briefest of moments, he was shocked to find his body responding to her, instantly aroused. In a timeless moment, he breathed her perfume, wanting to remember the scent of her. Reddish silky hair draped over one hand and he felt a hint of soft, warm flesh against the other. He realized his lips were automatically parting, ready to kiss her.
No. Just as quickly, Jared forced a return to reality and pulled away.
"I'd say you look like you just might be ready for a real partner." He adjusted his grasp, placing Lacey's right hand in his left, and lifted her other hand to rest on his shoulder.
"Now, most guys start out with the quick one, two part first." He looked down to the floorboards, seeing how tiny her feet looked in front of his own. "Ready? Watch our feet. One, two, one . . . two. One, two, one . . . two. That's it."
He looked up and watched as Lacy forced a weak smile. He knew she was embarrassed, but even so, she didn't miss a beat.
"By George, I think she'd got it," he said in an exaggerated British accent.
Lacey returned her gaze to their feet, matching the movements, too mortified to look up for more than a few seconds at a time.
Ask for a cowboy and you get one. She stared at the blue-jeaned legs and the plain black boots. The boots looked comfortable and worn, but in a good way, she thought. She allowed her gaze to drift upward to the red cotton shirt, open at the neck.
At her eye level, a fine gold chain lay nestled in the dark chest hair at the open collar of the shirt. She could just make out a name charm hanging from the chain. It was one word: Jamie.
Lacey inhaled nervously, forcing her gaze to stay level with her dancing cowboy's chest. Part of her desperately wanted to run screaming to her car, to forget her entire plan. Surprisingly, another part of her felt grateful for the forced first dance. It lessened at least some of the pressure she felt.
Breathing deeply, she identified his scent as a mixture of apricot soap and a light cologne she recognized but couldn't quite place. In his confident grip, she finally relaxed enough to fall into a familiar, comfortable rhythm. Much too quickly, the music ended and she looked up into soft gray eyes.
A voice called from the doorway. "Jared, we have to start in ten minutes and Luke's mike isn't working. You wanna get your butt in here and bail us out?" The voice belonged to one of the men that had been carrying equipment to the stage.
Jared released his hold on her and stepped back. "Duty calls."
Lacey quickly turned to leave.
"You dance just fine," he added, his voice fading at the last word as though he had more to say.
"Thanks." She croaked out the word, then grasped the railing and hastily made her way down the steps. Okay, Kandy, this is where you're supposed to show up and save me from embarrassing moments like this.
In comparison, the crowded bar seemed much more appealing as she made her way around the corner to the front entrance.
A small line had formed at the entry way and Lacy waited behind a group of women wearing skin-tight jeans and skimpy tank tops. The entire group was being carded as they went inside and she wondered if this new generation had perfected fake IDs; they sure looked young enough to need them.
At the entry way, Lacy was stopped by an almost exact replica of the Marlboro Man.
"There's a three dollar cover charge tonight, ma'am, for the band." Hank parked his cigarette in the ashtray on the empty stool next to him.
Lacy stared. She had an extensive male clientele at the Shear Delight salon, but none was quite the head-turner as the man before her. His eyes were almost too-bright turquoise blue--contacts? Long, feathered blond hair was expertly blown dry. His black hat was tipped back, revealing a clean-shaven face except for a soft, droopy mustache. A cowboy with a baby face, dimples and all.
Perhaps her task of finding a cowboy would be easier than she'd anticipated. He certainly looked the part.
She reached into her pocket for a ten, automatically smiling back at the man, feeling a rush of warmth in her cheeks. Unexpectedly, she felt her nerves tense, suddenly not wanting to be the object of his attention.
"First time here?"
Lacey nodded.
"Thought so." Hank took the money. He'd been handling the door for months to work off his unpaid bar tab and to cover the damage from the last brawl he'd been in. He didn't mind the job, and bragged that it was the best chance to check out the women as they arrived. It certainly was the best opportunity to see who was alone, and identify any new prospects.
"What's your name?"
Lacey's hand trembled slightly as she held it out for her change. Was his smile friendly, or just a tiny bit suggestive? With a shudder she quickly dismissed her thoughts as paranoid, deciding she was overreacting. The only men she was used to being around were in her work environment. There, she was in control.
Relax. She commanded herself to smile. She hadn't realized how out of practice she was in handling a simple social situation.
"What's your name?" he repeated.
"Lacey."
"Well, I'm Hank, Lacey. You better watch out for all those sharks on the dance floor, if you know what I mean."
Lacey's forehead wrinkled. "Pardon me?"
"I'll keep an eye on you--and you just let me know if I can be of service tonight."
Lacey marked his words as cordial. After all, she was a first-timer and it was perfectly appropriate for him to be friendly to her, or any other patron.
"Catch you later." Hank smiled, then turned his attention to the group of regulars waiting behind her.
Lacey squared her shoulders and took a few steps into the noisy room, willing herself to stay calm. As the music paused briefly so the band could do a sound check, the sound of Kandy's infectious laughter grabbed Lacey's attention. Relieved, she smiled and hurried to her tardy friend.
"Hey, everybody, here's Lacey! Sorry we're late. I know, I know. You can set a watch by me always being a half hour late." Kandy laughed at herself, and then introduced her friends.
Lacey was so relieved to see her that she refrained from saying anything about her perpetual tardiness. With Kandy being a very young twenty-one, she had decided it was a fault that would probably lessen with time and maturity. Now with her there, she already felt more at ease in the club's environment. And for that, she was grateful.
Lacey assessed the group quickly. She guessed that they all had most likely been carded at the door, they looked so young to her. All were in faded jeans and either tank tops or crop tops, their makeup perfect and their hair in the latest style.
"So, Kandy, which one is the guy you like?" one of the women asked.
"The gorgeous one." As Kandy stared at the stage her expression transformed into on of almost girlish worship. It was obvious she was infatuated and was thoroughly enjoying the experience. "Look for the best bod' and the cutest face."
Lacey joined the others in looking at the stage, admiring Kandy's honest appreciation of the object of her desire. She knew her type. Kandy liked men who were a little rough around the edges, but also big and cuddly as teddy bears. There were three men working on the center microphone and one fit the description perfectly.
That's Luke, in the black hat." Kandy's voice almost oozed the words. She laughed and added, "And the thing is, he's a nice guy too."
Lacey found Kandy's hand a gave it a squeeze. "He's adorable. Have you given him a Complimentary Hair Cut card yet?" Over the last year she had helped Kandy build quite a salon clientele by encouraging her to utilize "the first one's free" technique.
"I plan to slip one into the pocket of those tight jeans tonight. I just can't wait to give him a really long, luxurious shampoo."
The group collapsed into girlish squeals and giggles at Kandy's remarks. Lacey smiled, feeling more calm now that she was part of a group, albeit a rather young one.
"And don't you even think of trying to snag him for the bachelor auction, either. He's mine," Kandy whispered to Lacey. "You'll have to find some other handsome cowboy bachelor hunk to ask."
Lacey rolled her eyes, remembering their mission tonight was indeed to convince two men--cowboy-types, to be exact--to participate in the Most Eligible Bachelor charity auction at the mall. At least they hadn't been assigned to firemen or construction workers, she thought, picturing herself walking into the local fire station or onto a construction site to recruit a couple of single men. In comparison, cowboys should be easier, she thought.
Lacey groaned dramatically. "That's the absolute last time I send you to cover for me at the managers' meeting without specific instructions to sit on your hands and resist the temptation to volunteer for anything."
"Oh, stop worrying. All I promised we'd do was find a couple more eligible men for their silly auction. Besides, it'll do you good to get out and circulate again.
"You have ulterior motives, my friend." Lacey gently punched Kandy's upper arm. "Don't you?"
Kandy flashed a smile. "You, girlfriend, have been celibate much too long."
In response, the group of women surrounding them whooped in unison, echoing their approval.
Lacey covered her eyes with one hand. "Do you think everyone heard you or would you like to use the microphone?"
Kandy grinned. "Okay, I'll be good. Let's sit at the bar. Is that okay with everyone? We're too late for the good tables. Next time I promise to be early so we can sit close to the dance floor." She led the group skillfully through the crowd to some open stools at the bar.
"And, because I was late, the first round's on me." Kandy pulled out her wallet, ready to treat her friends.
"Nothing for me, Kandy. I'll be right back." Lacey suddenly remembered her purse she'd left outside on the deck, and quickly excused herself to go outside to retrieve it.
Her purse was right where she'd left it, but was just being picked up by her dancing cowboy.
"Ah, I was just about to try to find you to. . . to return this to you." Jared stumbled over his words as he stared into Lacey's happy, smiling face. She was beautiful. He hadn't imagined it after all. Her hazel-green eyes sparkled with recent laughter. As he stared openly in the face of the auburn-haired angel, he realized that for no logical reason he wanted like crazy to be around her.
"I was afraid it might fall off the rail into the parking lot." Lacey reached for her purse. "My money and ID are in my pocket, but . . . "
Jared let his fingers brush against hers as she took the purse, conscious that he'd positioned it to force the touch. He blinked in surprise and swallowed hard to bring himself back to normal. He definitely wasn't used to feeling this close to being out of control. What's the matter with me?
He desperately tried to think of something--anything--to say to her that would keep her there with him. He felt ridiculously shy as he had in high school. He remembered those bashful days with a little pain, now, and quickly reminded himself he was an adult who indeed knew how to make conversation.
"So, do you come here often?" Jared groaned and laughed. "I can't believe I just said that. It's just that I haven't noticed you in here before."
Lacey grinned at his obvious openness and felt all the more comforted that she was not the only one who wasn't completely at ease. She examined his face because she couldn't decide exactly what it was that made his seem different. He could have easily blended into the crowd, with his western boots, jeans, and shirt. He wore no cowboy hat, for one thing, she decided, and his face looked a touch older than the majority of the people at the Rockin' Ranch. His hair was chocolate brown, wavy, and cut in layers that fell over his collar. She couldn't help mentally designing a new style for him. She also noticed more than a few strands of silver mixed in with the dark gold highlights.
Then she noticed the well-worn wedding ring on her dancing cowboy's left hand.
"It's my first time here tonight. I'm with some friends." Feeling suddenly cotton-mouthed, Lacey forced herself to take a deep breath before bravely adding, "And my name's Lacey--you're Jared, right?" At least he was safe to practice on, she thought.
Jared's brow furrowed, his expression questioning her use of his name.
"When they called you in to fix the microphone, didn't that man call you Jared?"
"A good dancer and observant. Lacey, you'll do fine tonight. I predict you'll be beating them off with a stick. In fact, just give me the high sign and I'll throw you a drumstick from the stage."
Lacey felt herself relax and begin to enjoy the banter. "So, are you a roadie or are you in the band?"
"To tell you the truth, I'm just filling in for part of the summer--substitute bass player. Glenn's wife just had a baby and he wanted to spend some time at home. So it worked out for both of us."
"Ah . . . substitute bass player and microphone mechanic." Lacey heard a drum roll from inside, then the crash of a cymbal. A cheer escaped from the crowd. The live music was about to start. "Well, I guess I better get back to my friends."
"And I better get back to work. Have fun tonight, Lacey." Jared nodded politely. He wanted more than anything to just grab her for the first dance and forget he had ever agreed to help out playing with Southern Comfort. Glenn needed a break, though, and he certainly could use the extra money, and the distraction.
But now, for the first time in a long time, he was distracted by something else. By someone else.
Lacey smiled warmly and turned to go back to the bar. Her mood was improving by the minute. Her dancing cowboy was nice. Actually, he was more than nice, she corrected herself, but he was married. Not a cowboy bachelor candidate.
As they both paused briefly at the doorway, Jared reached to touch a curl of Lacey's long, dark hair. It was silky soft to his calloused fingertips. Just like Jamie's. Somehow he successfully fought the incredible urge to take a handful and bring it to his face. As Lacey continued into the bar, he quickly dropped his hand and walked onto the stage.
The rest of the band looked his way with interested expressions.
Lacey rejoined Kandy and her boisterous group gathered at the middle of the bar. All were giddily drinking shots of tequila, licking salt off their hands and biting limes. Lacey let out a long, deep sigh. She knew the night was going to be a challenge, but she was determined it would at least be fruitful.
And she wasn't leaving without procuring a cowboy for the auction.
###
Thorndike Press Large Print Romance Series (Hardcover)
Available beginning June 20, 2006
Buy it here from
Amazon or Barnes and Noble or Thorndike Press