Fannin's Flame. Tina Leonard

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Calhoun pointed out. “She doesn’t have to take care of anyone except Mason, since he’s really the one who wants her.”

      “Archer has a good theory,” Last said slowly. “I never thought of it before, but with four less of us on the ranch, we don’t need as much help as we did. Mimi’s got her sick dad and a baby on the way. We could offer Helga’s services to the Cannadys.”

      Archer sighed with relief. “I just knew you’d see it my way.”

      Fannin walked in, tossing his hat on the table.

      “Any luck?” Last asked him. “Call out the harpist yet to serenade the hooved lovers with romantic music?”

      “Shut up,” Fannin demanded.

      “We’ve got a plan we need your vote on, ornery one,” Bandera said. “How would you feel about us giving Helga to Mimi as a baby gift?”

      Fannin grinned. “Now that’s the first positive thing y’all have said all day. The sooner the better!”

      He fixed himself some lunch, feeling much better about life in general. The phone rang in the kitchen. “Fannin Jefferson,” he said.

      A soft voice said, “Mr. Jefferson? This is the Honey-Do Agency calling to confirm and fill your order.”

      He scrambled with the phone, the sandwich he’d fixed and a notepad into the farthest corner of the kitchen so his nosy brothers couldn’t hear. The minute they realized he was trying to have a private conversation, they grouped around him, listening.

      “Do you mind?” he demanded of them.

      “Mr. Jefferson?” the voice asked.

      He couldn’t help noticing that the voice was sweet. But confident. “Just a moment, please. I’m having some interference here.”

      “I’m on a cell phone,” the sweet voice said. “I’m afraid the line is breaking up. Can you meet your date in town, to help her get to the ranch?”

      “Absolutely,” he said. “How about we meet at Lampy’s Bar on the square?”

      “I’ll tell her,” the voice said. “Nine o’clock all right?”

      “It’s fine.” He shooed his brothers away. “Um, does that mean that tonight is the one night she’s going to be my personal companion?”

      “Well, no, Mr. Jefferson,” the voice said with a laugh. “You can keep her as long as you need to, if you accept her,” the woman said. “This is just an interview, is it not? Since your needs were pretty specific.”

      He recognized he was being teased and wasn’t sure what to think about it. The woman’s voice was giving him a strange buzz, almost as if she were blowing kisses into his ear.

      “Normally, billing would begin in the morning, at eight o’clock. However, we feel it’s important that your assistant finds you to her liking, as well. You understand.”

      There was that subtle laughter in her voice again. Fannin turned to face the kitchen wall so that his brothers couldn’t read his expression. “It’s business, not pleasure,” he stated, lying through his teeth but not wanting to seem like a man who needed to call up for a private companion. Damn, but this was getting complicated. He’d have to find her some typing to do.

      Why did I let my brothers goad me into dialing up a date?

      “Goodbye,” the voice said, and the line went dead.

      “Oh crap!” Fannin said to himself. “I forgot all about my date tonight!”

      “You have a date?” Last asked quickly.

      “The Helga date. Remember? I promised to take her into Dallas.” Rattled by getting a callback from the agency so quickly, he’d forgotten about Helga. “What plans do you have tonight?” he asked his brothers.

      They shifted uncomfortably.

      “You know, since you’re plotting to get rid of her, this ought to make you feel better,” Fannin said. “Be nice to her before you boot her.”

      “You don’t like her, either,” Last said.

      “No,” Fannin agreed. “I don’t think that’s a reason to plot her unemployment, though.” He sighed. “However, I’m putting my vote in with this plan just because I do think she’d be happier taking care of a baby, the sheriff and Mimi than you ungrateful lot. Who’s going to tell Mason what you’re up to?”

      Archer stood. “You are?”

      “Me? Why would I? I didn’t hatch this scheme.” He wasn’t going to have any part of telling Mason that the one person who made him happy was going to have to find new digs next door.

      Crockett kicked back in the chair, balancing it on its legs. “If you want us to take Helga out tonight so that you can go wherever it is you’re going, we think it’s only fair you talk to Mason.”

      They had a point, even if it was blackmail. Fannin pursed his lips. The lady on the phone had sounded so sexy. Of course, that wasn’t his date, but if his date was anything like the bearer of that voice…his ears would be the happiest part of his body.

      At least until he could talk her out of her clothes.

      “Deal,” he said reluctantly. “You butt-heads.”

      The brothers slapped each other’s hands while Fannin looked on sourly.

      “Freedom, here we come!” Navarro yelled.

      “Ding-dong, the witch is dead!” Bandera howled.

      Annoyed, Fannin left the room, comforting himself with the thought that he’d soon be at Lampy’s Bar meeting his dream date. Picked just for him, by the sexy-sounding secretary.

      He just wished he didn’t feel like such a Judas.

      Chapter Two

      If Kelly felt any remorse over deceiving Fannin Jefferson, it dissipated immediately when she saw the tall, lanky cowboy lounging against a lamppost outside Lampy’s Bar. “Mr. Jefferson?”

      He nodded, straightening to his full height, which Kelly was gratified to note was taller than her full height. She was no small, delicate thing, standing nearly six feet without the small, stacked heels on the winter boots she was wearing. “I’m Kelly Stone,” she said. “Your personal assistant.”

      She saw hesitation in his gaze—then realized that hesitation had turned to something else as he took her hand.

      “Hello,” he said, his voice deep and stirring. “Thanks for coming all the way out here.”

      Oh, she didn’t want to be attracted to him. But his hand warmed her chilled fingers and his voice settled her nerves. This big man carried security in every inch of his frame, and she responded to it like a lost calf.

      “I’m not the petite, cheery blonde you ordered.

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