* *
Saturday arrived along with her long-anticipated date with Wesley. Lydia fingered her curls as she eyed her reflection in the mirror.
I feel like an excited schoolgirl experiencing her first date. She giggled at the thought. It had been a long time since she’d felt this way. Lydia had to remind herself that this wasn’t a real date.
The thought put a damper on her excitement. It was a ruse to get close to Wesley.
The ringing of her cell phone provided a wonderful distraction for her. Lydia picked it up, looking at the caller ID. “I can’t talk to you right now,” she whispered.
She tossed the cell on the bed and then turned her attention back to her appearance. Even though it was not a real date, Lydia wanted to look her best for Wesley. She had a feeling that it would be a night she would never forget. Wesley had been very secretive about their date and had given her no details. I can’t read too much into this, Lydia reminded herself. The only reason he was taking her out was because she’d donated ten thousand dollars to charity. It wasn’t even her own money that she’d used. She was not even being her true self.
A thread of guilt snaked down her spine. Lydia liked Wesley, and deep down it really bothered her that she was not being completely honest with him.
She kept trying to convince herself that it didn’t matter. Lydia was in Granger to find out everything she could about Wesley, and then she would be returning to Los Angeles.
Yet, she could not deny the spark of excitement at the prospect of spending time with Wesley Broward, even if it was a job.
A job, she acknowledged, she would find enjoyable.
Lydia jumped at the sound of a knock on the door.
She did a final check of her makeup and hair before opening the door.
Wesley raised an eyebrow a fraction at the sight of her.
Their gaze met and held.
Lydia could almost feel the movement of his breathing. “Hello,” she whispered.
He wore a starched white shirt and a pair of black denim pants with highly polished cowboy boots. The sight of Wesley standing in her hotel room made Lydia’s heart beat rapidly and her pulse quicken. A delicious shiver of wanting ran through her.
She could barely tear her gaze away from him.
Neither one said a word.
After a few moments, Lydia burst into a short, nervous laugh to break the silence. “I guess we should get a move on.”
Wesley nodded. “Yes, ma’am, but there’s one thing you need to do before we go.”
Confused, she met his gaze. “What is it?”
“You need to take off that dress.”
* * *
The heavy lashes that shadowed her cheeks flew up. “Excuse me?” What’s wrong with my dress? she wondered.
Wesley eyed the silk dress Lydia was wearing and smiled. She looked exquisite—too exquisite for the evening he’d planned for them. His gaze traveled to her shoes. “You might want to wear something a little more comfortable,” he told her.
She glanced down at her clothes and asked, “Why? Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise,” he murmured.
“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Lydia responded.
“Okay,” he said. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
She was quiet on the drive to the surprise location. Wesley drove to the last place anyone would think he would bring a date.
When he pulled into the parking lot of their destination, he stole a peek at Lydia. Her expression was unreadable.
“What’s the name of this place?” she asked.
“Shank of the Evening Saloon.”
“That’s quite an interesting name,” Lydia responded as she eyed the wooden shack. To most outsiders, it probably looked like an old eyesore, but not to her. “How old is this place?”
“It’s been around for almost seventy-five years,” he told her. “And it’s a favorite of ranchers in the area.”
Wesley noticed that she looked mildly surprised that he would bring her to such a gritty establishment whose interior walls were covered with old license plates, news clippings and photos of the past.
But if Lydia was at all shocked by his choice of venue, she certainly hid it well.
Lydia had no idea that the only reason he’d brought her to this place was to gauge her reaction. Quite a few women were interested more in his money than in him. Wesley wanted to get a feel for Lydia. He was curious as to why she’d bid so much money for a date with him. It had to be to get his attention.
Lydia had no idea that she had already sparked Wesley’s interest in her. He cleared his throat, pretending not to be affected.
“What would you like to drink?” he asked, fully expecting her to order some girlie drink.
She glanced around the saloon, and then said, “I’d like a beer.”
Wesley was surprised. He also noted that she didn’t flinch at the less-than-refined behavior of some of the patrons around them, and he was impressed. There was more to this city girl than he first thought.
Their beers arrived.
Lydia took a sip of hers.
He smiled when she didn’t make a face at the taste. This was a woman who truly seemed to enjoy a beer every now and then.
“You look surprised,” she said. “You’ve never seen a girl drink beer?”
“I never thought a city girl like you would ever drink one, or be comfortable in a place like this.”
“I’m an occasional drinker,” Lydia told him. “I may drink a beer once or twice a year. My drink of choice is a chocolate raspberry martini, but I’m pretty sure I won’t find that here.”
Wesley chuckled. “You’re right about that.”
“As for this place, this is nothing new to me,” Lydia stated. “I’ve been in places similar to this back home in New York.”
She swayed to the music. “I’ve never been much of a country music lover, but it’s actually growing on me.”
“I like some of it,” he responded. “I’m more of a jazz lover.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “There’s no better music than jazz. My favorites are the samba/bossa nova standards, especially if I want some soft, pleasant jazz to relax to.”
