ranch life left little time for fun. Penny knew, because for years she’d worked right alongside her brother.
And when her friends had gone off to college to kick up their heels and spread their wings a little, Penny had remained at home, commuting from their ranch to Austin each day to take courses at the University of Texas. And with Jase, by that time, saddled with the responsibilities of his own growing family, Penny had felt obligated to help finance her education by typing term papers for other students and offering tutoring on the side. Between the long commute, a full load of classes each semester, evenings spent with her head buried in books and whatever hours left over in the day filled with typing term papers or tutoring some unmotivated jock, pitifully few hours remained in which to make new friends or pursue a social life.
No, she thought miserably as she dragged her feet to a stop before a shop’s window display. Penny Rawley wouldn’t know fun if it were to bite her square in the butt, just as Erik had suggested.
Fearing she would cry again if she allowed herself to think about the upsetting conversation any longer, she forced herself to focus on the items displayed in the window. Skimpy sundresses in varying shades of the rainbow draped headless mannequins with hourglass figures, while cropped tank tops danced from invisible strings above coordinating shorts that looked barely long enough to cover a woman’s behind.
And superimposed over it all was Penny’s reflection.
Slowly she focused on it. The sensible bun. The tailored blouse with its crisp bow tied neatly beneath her chin. The utilitarian suit jacket that hung loosely at her hips, hiding a figure that Penny wasn’t even sure existed any more. The A-line skirt, its hem brushing modestly at her knees. She couldn’t see any farther…but she didn’t need to see more of her reflection to realize that frump fit her to a T.
Sickened by the reminder that Erik was right to label her a frump, she started to turn away but stopped and slowly turned back around. But she didn’t have to be a frump, she told herself as she stared at her reflection. She could change. There was no reason she couldn’t dress differently. Granted, she’d never bothered to stay abreast of current fashion trends. Had no need, not when her wardrobe was dictated by what was serviceable for ranch and housework. But that’s what sales clerks were for, right? It was their job to stay on top of what was hot and what was not in the fashion industry. Surely she could trust one of them to help her make a few selections.
Remembering the black-tie affair that Erik expected her to attend with him at seven and the floral dress she’d brought to wear, she glanced at her watch. Two hours. She had two hours in which to recreate herself.
Oh, Lord, she prayed silently, please let it be long enough to create a miracle.
Three
Penny knew she was late and that Erik would probably be furious with her. But she didn’t care. She was too high, too pumped with excitement to care about anything, other than her new look.
Burdened with her purchases, she fumbled the card key for their hotel suite into the slot, pushed the toe of her shoe against the door, then hurried inside. “Mr. Thompson?” she called. “I’m back.”
When she didn’t hear a response, she headed straight for her bedroom, wincing when she saw a piece of paper taped to the door. After dumping her purchases on her bed, she removed the note and read: “Where the hell are you? Main ballroom. Now.”
He hadn’t even bothered signing his name.
Refusing to let his curt note rob her of her good mood, she tossed the paper over her shoulder and dived gleefully into the pile of purchases she’d dumped on the bed. Finding the clothing bag that covered her new dress, she held it up high…and her smile slowly faded.
I can’t do this, she cried silently, panicking. There’s no way in the world I can possibly wear in public a dress made from scarcely more fabric than that of a man’s oversize handkerchief.
Oh, yes, you can, a voice insisted—a voice that sounded suspiciously like her friend Suzy’s. And you’re going to make Erik Thompson’s eyes pop right out of his head.
Clutching the dress to her breasts, Penny headed for the bathroom, repeating under her breath a phrase from the story “The Little Engine that Could,” which her niece Rachel loved Penny to read.
“I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.”
Erik tipped back his head and drained the champagne from the glass, then plunked it down on the tray of a passing waiter. He glanced toward the ballroom’s entrance for about the zillionth time since entering the room and swore under his breath when he still didn’t see a sign of his missing secretary. Scowling, he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his tuxedo slacks and headed for the buffet table.
“Hey, Erik!”
Balancing a plate on his palm, Erik glanced over his shoulder and saw his old friend Buzz Kenney bearing down on him. Relieved to find a familiar face among a sea of strangers, he plucked another skewer of grilled shrimp from the tray. He used his teeth to drag one off its end, before dropping the skewer to his plate and turning to greet his friend. “How’s it going, Buzz?”
“Can’t complain.” Buzz slapped a bear-like hand against Erik’s back. “How ’bout you?”
Erik’s eyes bugged as the force of Buzz’s greeting made the shrimp he’d just swallowed hang in his throat. He gulped, swallowed hard, forcing it down, then slipped a finger behind his shirt’s starched collar and craned his neck. “Fine,” he croaked, “until you came along.”
Buzz tossed his head back and boomed a laugh. “You always were a bit on the puny side.”
Erik shot his friend a frown. “And you were always an overgrown bully.”
“Now, Erik,” Buzz chided. “Surely by now you’ve forgiven me for shoving you buck naked into the girl’s locker room when we were in junior high?”
“Oh, I’ve forgiven you all right,” Erik replied dryly. “I just haven’t forgotten the incident. Nor will I.”
Chuckling, Buzz draped a companionable arm along Erik’s shoulders and turned to survey the room. “Mmm-mmm. Have you ever seen so many gorgeous babes gathered under one roof?”
Erik chose a bacon-wrapped mushroom from his plate and popped it into his mouth, not bothering to look up. “Yeah. One too many times.”
Buzz clasped a hand over his heart. “Oh, man. Don’t tell me the great Erik Thompson has lost his appetite for beautiful women?”
Erik lifted an indifferent shoulder. “If you’ve tasted one, you’ve tasted ’em all.”
“Then you haven’t been samplin’ from the same buffets I’ve been feedin’ from.” He dug an elbow into Erik’s ribs, then boomed another laugh when the dig sent Erik staggering sideways a step.
Frowning, Erik rubbed a hand over a rib he was sure would be sore the next day. “Why don’t you go beat up on somebody else for a while?”
“And leave you all alone?” Grinning, Buzz folded his arms across his chest and rocked back on his heels, trolling the room with his gaze again. “Caught that pesky hacker yet that’s been givin’ you grief?”
Irritated
