Fannin's Flame. Tina Leonard

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headed up to the house and went into Mason’s office. Reaching into the haphazard Rolodex, he pulled out a card for the Honey-Do Agency. He sat down at the computer and typed in the e-mail address. He’d heard the agency was branching out into matchmaking services. They probably didn’t have dream women in their database, and he was feeling a little nervous about telling them exactly what he wanted in a one-night companion. He read over the card again. “I’ll say I want to interview a personal assistant for one night to accompany me on a possible business trip.”

      He began to state his needs. “Attractive, understanding, somewhat petite female,” he typed happily. “For a big-hearted cowboy who needs a special companion. She needs to have a good sense of humor, too.”

      It sounded like a personals ad. They weren’t going to be fooled. It also sounded like he was looking for an artificial female.

      “Okay, let’s try the truth. I want an easygoing woman,” he typed. “Easygoing is key.”

      “That’s my problem,” he said with a sigh. “I’m always worrying about being heavy-handed. My brothers would just fire this puppy off and never think twice about sounding like tree dwellers.”

      Well, Tarzan he wasn’t, but he wanted a Jane for one night. A Jane he’d practically designed himself. “There are bigger sins on the planet than being a male chauvinist. Here goes nothing,” he said and hit the Send key.

      IN JULIA FINEHURST’S office at the Honey-Do Agency, Kelly Stone was in charge while her boss was sick. She’d just logged the final client and picked up her extralarge purse to leave for the weekend when she remembered she hadn’t turned off the computer.

      She bent to click the screen closed and saw that a new e-mail had popped up. The Jefferson Union Junction ranch return address caught her eye, and she opened the message. Kelly got a lot of news from her mother, Helga, whenever Julia wrote to check on her employee.

      “My name is Fannin Jefferson,” Kelly read. “I need a personal assistant for one evening.”

      She laughed. “Oh, that’s a new one. Why don’t you just say you need a date?”

      She seated herself in the chair to read the rest of the request. From everything her mother had told her, the wild boys of Malfunction Junction did not have to go hunting for women. Women knocked those boys over any chance they could. Her mother had mentioned thongs in the mailbox and bras hanging off the front doorknob, all inscribed with phone numbers, names or addresses.

      “Attractive, understanding, somewhat petite female,” she read. “Mr. Jefferson, you are obviously way too proud of yourself. You want to order the moon to spec, and say it’s a job. Then you can fire my employee when she doesn’t meet your lofty requirements.”

      No one would describe Kelly as attractive or petite. She had her mother’s German genes, which showed in her robustness, and her Irish father’s red hair, neither of which brought men running to her side.

      “Needs to have a good sense of humor,” she read out loud. Blinking, she thought about all the women the agency had on file: mothers, secretaries, teachers, even a mathematician. It wouldn’t be hard to find someone dainty for him, even though the agency’s matchmaking file was small. Yet it wouldn’t be fair to send the women out on a false lead to a persnickety, overimpressed-with-himself cowboy who maybe had no intention of being any nicer to his “assistant” than he was to Kelly’s mother.

      “Mr. Smooth Operator,” she murmured. “Ordering Dream Date Barbie so you can send her back after you’ve looked under her skirt. No, I don’t think so, Lascivious Ken.”

      Maybe Kelly would go there herself.

      She knew her mother was homesick. She had been worried enough to threaten to come visit the ranch and slap those wily cowboys into line herself if they didn’t start appreciating Helga. It hurt Kelly’s feelings that her mother was sad, especially during the Christmas season. A job was a job, but her mother had been at the Jefferson household for nearly a year now.

      “My mother has a heart of gold,” Kelly said, peering into her oversize purse. “Those cowpokes ought to know that by now. Obviously, they’re not too bright. Isn’t that right, Joy?”

      Kelly pulled out her very red, very opinionated teacup poodle, a sweet baby who had bonded with Kelly instantly upon the dog’s rescue from the local animal shelter.

      “Miss Joy,” Kelly said, “what do you think about a road trip to visit Grandma?”

      Joy quivered in her hands. Kelly adjusted the poodle’s little sweater and fake-diamond collar as she thought about Fannin’s request.

      “It’s only one night,” Kelly said to the poodle. “There’s nothing on our dance card for tonight or tomorrow. Mama’s homesick, and we can cheer her up. And it wouldn’t hurt this ornery cowboy too much if his order isn’t exactly fit-to-fill. We just won’t charge him while we teach him to mind his manners better where your grandma is concerned. Or better yet, we could double bill him! He’d deserve it, the rat, even though Julia wouldn’t allow it.”

      Joy licked Kelly’s hand. No crime was being committed if every tiny detail wasn’t perfect for Fannin Jefferson.

      Kelly reread the e-mail. “Good sense of humor,” she repeated, switching off the computer and getting up from the chair. She turned out the lights. “Gee, cowboy, hope you don’t mind a little joke being played on you.”

      “I’VE THOUGHT OF A WAY to get rid of Helga,” Archer said smoothly. “This is so easy we should have thought of it before.”

      “Mason likes her. At least she keeps him reasonably happy. For years, we’ve dreamed of him getting off our cases. What’s the point of changing a good thing?” Calhoun asked.

      “We could have a new housekeeper. We could talk one of the Union Junction Salon girls into coming over here to work for us,” Navarro said reasonably.

      “Yeah,” Bandera agreed, flipping some cards onto the table. “Give me an ace out of the deck, Last.”

      “May I just point out that whatever you do to Helga will adversely affect Mimi,” Last said. The youngest brother, he was prone to clear thinking at times and steering his brothers on many occasions. “Mimi needs help with her dad. The sheriff hasn’t improved in months.”

      “Mimi’s happily pregnant,” Crockett pointed out. “I mean, have you seen the size of her lately? She looks like she swallowed the Great Pumpkin. Marriage clearly agrees with her.”

      “I dunno,” Last said. “I don’t think she’s all that happy.”

      The brothers stared at him.

      “Then let Mimi hire Helga, since Mimi hired Helga for us in the first place,” Archer said, annoyed. “That’s the proper thing to do, and it was what I was going to suggest. Mimi needs Helga more than we do. Mimi sneakily hired Helga in here to keep Mason occupied. But now Mimi’s married, so Mason is free to shake loose of those shackles. I say this is the right solution for everyone. And I want to get up in the morning and look at a face that’s young and beautiful and smiling. Instead of scouring me.”

      “Scouring you?” Bandera asked. “Do you mean souring you?”

      “No. I mean scouring me. I put my elbows on the table

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