she became vexed. She firmly agreed with the motto that the customer was always right, but intimating she might have made a mistake in date or time cast doubt upon her care for detail, which was one of the main benefits she claimed she would provide her clients.
“I have my notes on your phone call to set up the appointment and the directions you gave me right here,” she said crisply as she opened the organizer to her calendar. Her actions were stayed by a raised hand.
“I think I know what’s happened,” he said, features relaxing a little. He nodded in the direction of Bubba J.’s at the top of the hill. “You must be looking for my uncle.”
Mariah shook her head. “You’re not Wiley Albright?”
“I’m Jeb Albright, Wiley’s nephew.”
“Oh! Yes, he did mention you.” And she had forgotten, mostly because she’d gotten the impression this meeting had to do with a youngster rather than an adult. Mariah had to smile at the mix-up even if she was still puzzled as to why her showing up unexpectedly would provoke such wariness in this man. Unless that was the usual state of affairs with Jeb Albright. “And am I right in assuming he didn’t mention me to you?” she asked.
“Seems that way, doesn’t it?” He actually returned her smile with a half smile of his own, revealing a thumbnailsized dimple in his cheek.
The sight of that dimple did wonders for his looks—and something to her respiration rate.
She was compelled to try another smile on him. “No telling what must have gone through your mind when this woman showed up without warning…”
He dropped his chin to rub it, slanting her a suddenly probing look from under his lashes. “I’m not sure what I thought, ma’am,” he murmured in a not altogether unappealing backwoods twang, his voice at a pitch that could have been pensive or provocative. Either way, it sent a shiver down Mariah’s spine.
It was just another chill from the now-brisk afternoon, she told herself as she fell back into her formal persona. “Well, then, proper introductions are in order. I’m Mariah Duncan,” she said, extending her hand. “From Saved by the…”
Her voice trailed off as she saw Jeb stare at her hand. His own curled closed at his side. What now? she thought as the dog stretched inquiringly toward her fingers.
“Lucy, no,” he commanded. “We’ve already done enough damage.”
The dog drew obediently back.
“She doesn’t look bent on harm.” Her hand still extended, Mariah added rather pointedly, “Neither am I.” But she felt somehow the assurance was needed.
His gaze cut to hers, again probing. He hesitated before explaining stiffly, “It’s just that we’re neither of us too savory right now, ma’am.”
“I see.” Now that he mentioned it, she did detect what smelled like a combination of silty lake water, honest perspiration and wet fur, which was actually not all that unpleasant, especially out here in the fresh air. Mariah might have told him so except for his wariness, which left her feeling even more self-conscious.
On another impulse, she crouched, hand still extended, and said softly, “Lucy, is it?”
The direct greeting was more than the dog could stand. Feathery tail slashing back and forth like a windshield wiper, the animal shoved her nose into Mariah’s palm and gave a hearty sniff before moving in to try for moreintimate contact, namely Mariah’s face. She managed to avoid the invasive advances of Lucy’s questing nose while giving the dog a few friendly pats.
Up close, Lucy’s odor was a little overpowering, but Mariah bore up as best she could, since she could see from the corner of her eye the softening of Jeb’s features she’d hoped for. Not that she’d exactly been trying to soothe the savage beast. Still, Mariah discovered she’d achieved her aim when she turned her face upward and found herself the recipient of another one of those grudging half smiles—as if his mouth was unused to tipping up at the corners—that seemed to suggest he appreciated the spirit of her gesture.
Her heart quickened in response. For the first time, she saw how handsome Jeb Albright was—or might be, once he’d had the chance to tidy up. Although it was only April, his strong features were tanned. His hair could have used a good trimming, even if the way it hung over his forehead had its allure. Beneath the dusting of a five-o’clock shadow, his jaw and chin and mouth were finely formed. Her gaze wandering, she noticed that the worn-out T-shirt that had first caught her attention covered—quite snugly—wide shoulders and the defined musculature of the chest she’d been fleetingly pressed against. From her position crouched at his feet, she could see up close that his jeans, like his T-shirt, were worn, stained—and fit just as well.
He looked wild, all right. Wild and…real.
Mariah glanced up to find dark-lashed blue eyes perusing her as thoroughly. Abruptly she was certain she must have imagined both his wariness and his regard, for his gaze was filled with some earthy, predatory emotion. And rather than holding her at bay, it pulled her to him, kindling in her an answering primitiveness.
She’d heard the phrase animal magnetism before, but this was the first time she’d experienced it in the flesh, so to speak.
Another wave of fear washed over her, this one out of concern for her emotional well-being rather than her physical safety. Yes, she could see the seduction in that earthiness, how it could become a demanding need.
Of course, that had been the accusation Stephen had thrown at her before she left him—-just as he’d also told her a woman like her could never understand such a need.
Escaping those thoughts, she lit upon the first subject that came to mind. “So you must be the J in Bubba J.’s.”
At her statement, Jeb’s expression clouded over yet again. “Nope,” he said curtly.
“Well, I just wondered.” Her fingers groped for the pearls. “A lot of boys in Texas grow up being called that—”
“There is no Bubba J.,” he interrupted, then with the same stiffness he’d shown before, he went on, “It’s supposed to give the feeling of us being ‘just folks.’ You know, what city people expect to find when they come out here—” He cut off his explanation with a sound of impatience. “It’s just a name. That’s all.”
“Fine.” Quite obviously she’d hit a sore spot. Several, in fact. This, along with the hazard to her emotional equilibrium she’d just experienced, led Mariah to decide she might be best to conclude this interview, such as it had been, and return to Sherman, even if she still had no idea why she’d been called here. Now, though, she really wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
But before she could act on that decision, she heard a door open and close distantly behind her. Rising, Mariah saw the man who must be the real Wiley Albright hurrying toward her and Jeb from Bubba J.’s.
“I’m late, I’m late, I know I am,” he called to them, pointing his hands skyward, stick-up style. “I was teachin’ Robbie how to close up and clean forgot the time.”
“Everything okay?” Jeb asked Wiley.
“Fine, son, just fine,” Wiley assured him as he came to a stop in front of them
