Best Of Makeovers Bundle Part 91

MASON DIDN'T normally go around kissing women he had no intention of having s.e.x with. But while his head knew Charlene Singer was completely off-limits, his d.a.m.ned c.o.c.k hadn't quite got the message.

His groin throbbed and he s.h.i.+fted on the leather seat as he drove down Farm Road 25 toward the Iron Horse. He had his flaws-from his tendency to throw himself into his work and forget everything but the land and horses, to a weakness for Snickers bars and Eskimo Pies-but he wasn't a liar. He could tell himself that he meant to teach her a lesson, but deep down he'd been more interested in seeing if she tasted half as good as he'd antic.i.p.ated.

She'd tasted better.

He licked his lips. Yep, she'd tasted better, all right. What's more, she'd responded with an intensity that had caught him off guard. No wonder he'd blurted out the truth to her.

You're more.

She couldn't be more. She had her mind set on another man, for Chrissake! On top of that, she didn't believe in any way, shape or form what he knew to be the gospel-that it was l.u.s.t that mattered in a relations.h.i.+p. That it was the only thing that really mattered.

Which meant that if he pursued her, he would more than likely find himself smack-dab in the middle of another fling rather than a real relations.h.i.+p.

Like h.e.l.l.

He'd been there and done that and he was sick of temporary relations.h.i.+ps. The past sixteen years of his life had been about nothing but temporary.

No more.

He wanted something permanent in his life. Something real. He wanted to succeed where his father had failed.

"A guy can't even go alligator wrestling anymore without all h.e.l.l breaking loose." The deep, familiar voice sounded just to Mason's left as he stepped up onto the back porch and reached for the doork.n.o.b.

Light pushed through the kitchen window and cracked open the blackness to illuminate the man sprawled in a nearby cedar chair, his feet propped on a matching table.

With his dark hair and easy smile, Rance McGraw was the spitting image of his two brothers. Or he would have been if he'd had the good sense to get a sensible haircut, wear a decent s.h.i.+rt and a pair of starched Wranglers, and buy himself a cowboy hat that wasn't all bent out of shape.

But Rance had his own style.

He wore his hair down to his shoulders and lived in loud Hawaiian print s.h.i.+rts, raggedy board shorts and flip-flops. The only indication of his Texas roots was the beat-up straw Resistol that he'd been wearing since his sixteenth birthday, an ancient Coors Lite patch st.i.tched on the brim in between a patch for last year's ESPN Extreme Sports Games in Colorado and one advertising the bungee jumping finals in South America.

The press still referred to him as a cowboy because of his do-anything att.i.tude and I-don't-give-a-d.a.m.n look. Rance was an ex-pro football player who now owned a chain of extreme sporting good stores and still made headlines with his pa.s.sion for the outrageous. He'd done everything from surfing killer waves off the Australian coast to snake wrangling in the Amazon rainforest.

He looked like he always did whenever Mason saw him in person or caught a glimpse of him on the nightly news. His hat was tipped back to reveal a twinkling pair of whiskey-colored eyes and an easy grin. He wore his signature Hawaiian print unb.u.t.toned, a white T-s.h.i.+rt advertising Jim Beam Whiskey beneath. His shorts were long and frayed down around the edges and he had on his favorite pair of blue flip-flops.

Make that one flip-flop.

Mason's gaze drank in the white cast that covered Rance's left leg. The hem of his shorts had been split to accommodate the bulky plaster that extended from the middle of his foot, clear up to his midthigh.

"Tell me there's an actual leg under there and some alligator didn't take a bite out of you."

"I never actually made it to the Outback. I was climbing the steps to board the plane in Austin and the d.a.m.ned thing wasn't locked into place. The steps slid and I fell.

"Were you on the bottom step going up to the plane, or the top step walking in?"

"I broke my leg in three places. Does that say bottom step?"

"Aw, h.e.l.l, man." Mason sank down in the chair opposite his brother. "Are you okay?"

"I will be." Rance pushed his hat back even further and ran a hand over his face. "In about six weeks if all goes well. Until then, I'm supposed to take it easy."

"You don't take it easy."

"That's what I told the doc. He said if I want to walk again, I'd better get the ants out of my pants and settle down until everything heals."

"Otherwise?"

"No more gator wrestling. Or hiking in the Himalayas or anything else I've got planned."

"Sounds serious."

"Not as long as I follow his instructions, which I intend to do."

"Which is why you came home." Mason gave him a knowing look. "Couldn't resist the call of that rock wall you installed last year to practice your mountain climbing?"

Rance shrugged. "I've never been good when it comes to temptation. I figured I'd hole up here, watch the gra.s.s grow, fill up on Aunt Lurline's cooking and see for myself if my oldest brother's lost his mind." He shook his head and Mason read the same disbelief he'd felt when he'd heard the news. "Josh is really getting married?"

"That's the plan."

"Is she pregnant?"

"She doesn't have to be. He's in love."

"You really believe that?"

"I didn't believe it until I saw him. He's different now. There's this light in his eyes whenever he talks about her. Or looks at her."

"Maybe he's sick."

"He's not sick."

"He could be. I caught a bug over in the Polynesian islands during a windsurfing champions.h.i.+p two years ago-nothing serious, just a temporary thing-and it made me act crazier than a hornet at an annual Honeyfest. I don't remember much, but when the fever peaked, I recall running around the beach, telling everyone that I was Steve Irwin, the Crocodile Hunter. h.e.l.l, I don't even like the guy. Talk about crazy."

"He's not sick. He's in love," Mason heard himself say. Love? Sure, he believed in the concept. There was too much fuss about it for it not to exist. He just didn't think it had a d.a.m.ned thing to do with marriage and happily ever after. Getting along with someone was all about connecting on a physical and emotional level. Then again, he supposed if he had that dual connection with someone, he'd probably fall in love with them.

But Holly Farraday didn't know the first thing about flying. She was raised in the city. Several of them, or so Josh had told him. She'd been in and out of foster homes most of her life, while Josh had grown up in the same house, on the same spread, surrounded by the same people day in and day out. She'd never set a horse or roped a calf, while he'd excelled at both. She didn't have anything in common with Josh.

And he loved her anyway. So the l.u.s.t factor must be pretty high.

"He's really hot for her," Rance said as if reading Mason's mind. What he didn't say-and what both were obviously thinking-is that Josh had been hot for women in the past and he'd never gone so far as to drop down on one knee and propose. "It'll fade before they make it to the alter."

"Hopefully, not that we're going to say as much to him. This is his call, not ours."

"You don't have to remind me. I've already got a broken leg. I'm not adding a nose to the list."

Mason smiled at the memory of Josh and Rance rolling around in the pasture. They'd been thirteen and Josh had announced that he was going to kiss Mary Jean Brenton. Rance had said he shouldn't because she smelled like milk on account of she had to milk her daddy's cows before school. Josh had said he liked milk, Rance had called him a cow lover, and the fight had started. Josh had won and set the precedent when it came to women-namely the McGraw triplets respected each other's tastes and kept their mouths shut.

Josh was a grown man and he could make his own decisions.

Good and bad.

"So you're here for six weeks, huh?" Mason asked his brother.

Rance nodded. "Until my appointment with my doctor in Austin at the end of next month."

Mason noted the suitcase sitting on the porch. "Does anybody even know you're here?"

He shook his head. "I had a cab drop me off about a half hour ago. I was going to go inside, but it sounded too quiet so I thought maybe Aunt Lurline and Uncle Eustess were already in bed."

"I should be so lucky."

Rance grinned. "They're still fighting, huh?"

"Do they ever stop?"

As if on cue, a door slammed somewhere inside the house and both men listened to the sound of footsteps coming toward them. The light flipped on in the kitchen just to the right and a woman's soft hum carried on the night breeze.

"Lurline sounds pretty mellow to me."

Only because Eustess hadn't followed her out, both men realized a few seconds later when more footsteps sounded and a man cleared his throat.

"Do you have to make all those nasty sounds, Eustess? I came out here to get myself a snack and you're making me lose my appet.i.te."

"I've got a frog in my throat."

"There's no such thing."

"There d.a.m.n sure is, woman. My daddy had a frog in his throat and I've got one in mine." He made a big show of clearing his throat and gagging several times. "See there? You can hear it."

"Unfortunately. Why, now I don't even want to eat my cream of wheat."

"Cream of wheat's too fattening anyway. You ought to try bran flakes."

"Are you saying I'm fat?"

"They don't call that thing you're wearing a housedress for nothing."

"Why, I never..."

Rance pushed to his feet. "I guess it's time I go in and give them a distraction."

"You need some help?"

"I wrestle gators, bro. I can handle a little old suitcase." He reached for his crutches, propped them under his arms and leaned to the side to retrieve his suitcase. The crutches wobbled and he would have teetered to the side if Mason hadn't caught him.

"Leave the suitcase wrestling to me. Doctor's orders."

Rance frowned and headed for the back door while Mason retrieved his bag. He was just about to pull open the screen when he turned toward Mason. "You're not going to tell anyone that I'm here, are you? Anyone in town, that is?"

"If you're referring to a certain Nadine Codge, I haven't even seen her since I've been home."

"You don't have to see her to know she's here somewhere. She's always here. Watching and listening. I swear she has bionic hearing."

"It's called a small town. News travels fast."

"Not this news. Just pretend like I'm not here and tell Josh to do the same."

"You really think she'll come running after you like she used to?"

"You really think she won't?" Rance asked.

Mason's mind rushed back to their teenage years. Mason and his brothers had been pursued by many women in high school, but Nadine "Deanie" Codge had given new meaning to the word.

She'd been the youngest of five children and the only girl. The runt, or so everyone had always called her, hence the name Teeny Deanie. But there'd been nothing small about the way she'd hounded Rance, always showing up wherever he went and following him around, bringing him cookies. She'd wanted him to like her and the only thing he'd ever felt had been annoyance.

And a little fear.

For someone so tiny, she'd been d.a.m.ned persistent.

"I won't say a word," Mason told his brother. "And neither will Josh."

"Good. The last thing I need is Deanie bugging me while I'm trying to recuperate. I'm supposed to take it easy, not break my other leg trying to get away from a crazy woman. I swear, she drives me nuts."

Mason knew the feeling, only the source of his anxiety had nothing to do with a pint-sized brunette with a gallon-sized will and everything to do with the elderly couple this close to duking it out in his kitchen. Not to mention a certain uptight blonde...

"Dadblame it, Eustess!" Lurline's voice grew louder as Mason followed his brother into the house. "You know I cain't stand bananas in my cream of wheat. I like raisins."

"n.o.body in their right mind likes raisins. Ain't nothing better than a banana. Why, I been eating bananas all my life and my mind's as fit as ever. Did the crosswords in this mornin's paper in fifteen minutes flat."

"Are you saying I'm crazy?"

"Well, you ain't exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer. Otherwise, you'd do a few crosswords yourself 'stead of watching so much dadblamed TV."

"You watch TV."

"Sure enough. Informative shows like the news and Jerry Springer. I don't waste my time on Oprah."

"Oprah is brilliant."

"She's a Jerry wannabe..."

Obviously the first session with Charlene hadn't helped his great-aunt and-uncle. Not that he'd expected results after just an hour. Sure, he'd hoped. Especially when he'd picked them both up at Charlene's office and they'd been smiling at each other.

As if all had been right with the world.

But Eustess and Lurline had been arguing much too long to turn it all off just like that. They'd been going at it for almost as long as Mason could remember.

Almost.