then too many places to list. I traveled.”
“For years?” There was puzzlement in his expression.
“Yes, for years.” She had to laugh because he looked so befuddled. “I wasn’t on the go every day. I took jobs here and there. I worked in a Paris boutique for eight months, and in a little pastry shop in London for about a year.”
“A world traveler. I thought you were only talking about the U.S.”
“Oh, I saw the U.S., too. Then, about a year ago, I started getting lonesome for home.”
“What are you, independently wealthy?” He’d never thought of Charlie Fanon as wealthy, but Lola could have inherited from her parents.
Lola laughed again. “Not anymore. Actually, I was never what you’d call wealthy, but my parents’ estate provided enough for my education and some to spare. I grew up dreaming of seeing something of the world, so I did it.” She glanced around her store, feeling pride in her decor and good taste. “I had enough money left to open this store.”
“But why a men’s store? I would think a woman would rather sell pretty clothes to other women.” He noticed her amused little half smile. “Wrong assumption, huh?”
“Very wrong.” She looked him in the eye. “I like men much better than women, Mr. Sheridan.”
He chuckled softly. “I sure do admire your honesty, sweetheart.”
“Do you?”
“Absolutely.” His outlaw grin returned at full throttle. “Of course, there are a whole passel of other things I admire about you, as well.” She felt his gaze linger on her bosom for a few seconds, then slowly travel up to her face. “You are one beautiful lady,” he said huskily.
“Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. Sheridan,” she said, an automatic response that denied the truth, noticing that her own voice had gotten a bit husky, too.
“It’s not flattery, Miss Fanon. I’m as honest as you are.”
“Is that a fact?”
They were staring into each other’s eyes. It took Lola a minute to shake the feeling that they were all alone in the world. Even the store had seemed to disappear for a time.
Abruptly, she tore her gaze from his and finished the last of her coffee. “Well, I really must get back to work,” she said briskly, dropping her cup into the small trash can next to the counter. “Let’s see. You wanted that hat, those shirts and the jeans.”
“And the boots,” Duke reminded her. “Lola, will you have dinner with me tonight?”
Her eyes jerked to his. “Tonight? Uh, no…not tonight.”
“Too fast, huh? How about tomorrow night?” When she didn’t answer, he added, “Let me warn you. I’m going to camp on your doorstep until you say yes.”
She tried to laugh. “Really, Mr. Sheridan…”
“Duke.”
“All right…Duke. But let me warn you that I don’t take kindly to pressure.”
“Then say yes right now and we’ll avoid all that. You name the time and place.”
“Thanks for the leeway,” she drawled with some sarcasm.
He grinned. “You’re welcome. I’m a very fair fellow.”
“You know, for some reason I can’t quite bring myself to believe that. I think when you see something you want, you don’t stop until you get it.”
Laughing, he walked a small circle then leaned on the counter. “Guess you understand me.”
“Does my understanding present a problem for you?”
“Nope. You see, I understand you, too.”
“You only think you do,” Lola retorted.
He reached across the counter and flicked the collar of her blouse. “Name the time and place, Lola,” he said, his voice low and sensual.
She sucked in a quick breath. Two men were walking through the door. She couldn’t stand around and bandy words with Duke Sheridan any longer.
“I can see you’re not going to give up,” she said quietly. “Make it Friday night. A movie, not dinner. I’m living with Charlie, so you can pick me up at his place at eight.”
Duke straightened from the counter with a satisfied expression on his face. “I’ll be there. Now, ring up those sales, Lola, my sweet. I’ve got to get back to the ranch.”
The woman occupying room 116 in the redbrick Sundowner Motel checked the Rocky Ford telephone directory, located Fanon, Charles A. and wrote his address, as listed, on the small phone pad provided by the motel. Closing the directory, she set it aside, then stared at the pad. 805 Foxworth Street. Her heart thumped nervously, anxiously. She finally had his exact address. It didn’t seem possible, and now that she had gained so much ground, it also seemed a little too easy.
But she had come this far and couldn’t start digressing just because one step in her plan had been simple when she’d expected difficult. She realized, in all honesty, that she hadn’t really taken the first step yet. Up to now, everything had been a backdrop for what was to come.
Breathing deeply to calm herself, she got up for her purse, left the unit and walked to her car. Right now she would take a look at 805 Foxworth Street. Maybe she’d do more than that today, maybe not. It wasn’t that she was lacking in courage, but this was so vastly different from anything else she’d ever done in her life, with so many emotional ramifications—why wouldn’t it demand caution?
It surprised her, when she found the address, that it wasn’t just a house. Foxworth Street had obviously been rezoned from residential to commercial some time ago, because there was both ordinary homes and businesses on each side of the street. Number 805 was a huge old structure that appeared to be a business and a home. It bore a sign over the front porch: Charlie’s Place. Driving slowly past, she could see people through the windows. Frowning, she went to the end of the block, turned around and returned to park on the opposite side of the street so she could study the building.
There were other signs, which she thoughtfully read: Best cup of coffee in town. Pastries. Newspapers. Magazines. Her frown went deeper.
People were going in and coming out. Her stomach churned. She hadn’t anticipated a business at the address, and it felt like a setback to her goal. After about fifteen minutes of uneasily watching the activity at Charlie’s Place, she put the car in gear and drove away.
Charlie had dinner ready when Lola walked in at 6:30. “Something smells very good,” she remarked after a cheery hello.
“Homemade
