of my heart. Do you have it?”
Lola’s face colored. What an outrageous flirt! Well, she’d dealt with his sort before.
“I think if you’re suddenly missing a body part, sport, it’s from a little higher up than your chest,” she said pertly.
Duke laughed with genuine relish. He did like a woman with spirit. “Could you by any chance be referring to my brain, Lola Fanon? Oh, by the way, I’m Duke Sheridan.” He held out his right hand.
Lola stared at it. Now she knew who he was, or at least, what he was. A rancher. The Sheridan Ranch was one of the largest and most successful in the area. Or it had been before she left Rocky Ford.
But did she want to touch that big masculine hand? Feel its warmth? Physically connect the two of them, if only for a handshake? Although Betty was taking good care of her lady customer, Lola could sense that she was also highly interested in what was happening near the table of jeans.
“Hey,” Duke said softly. “Don’t be afraid to shake my hand. I guarantee not to bite.”
Lola tilted her chin to a defiant angle, and she boldly stared into Duke’s golden brown eyes while she laid her hand in his.
He laughed. “I don’t scare you at all, do I?”
“Not an iota.” But she only allowed the handshake to last a few seconds. “Now, is there anything I can show you, Mr. Sheridan?”
“A whole lot, Miss Fanon, if you’re willing.”
His bedroom voice sent ripples of heat throughout her body, which she did her best to ignore. “I’m willing and delighted to show you anything in the store that’s for sale, Mr. Sheridan. The key phrase is for sale, in case you missed it.”
“Didn’t miss it at all.” Grinning to himself, Duke walked over to a display of hats. “You’ve got some good merchandise in here.” He took a hat from the rack and put it on. “What do you think?”
“It’s definitely you,” she drawled, which was an out-and-out lie. The black hat he’d chosen was huge, with a ten-inch crown and a wide, floppy brim, and it looked ridiculous on him.
He laughed as though she’d said something hilarious. Removing the hat, he replaced it on the rack and picked up another, a cream-colored Stetson. “I think I like this one.”
So did she. “The black one suits you much better,” she said with a smile of exaggerated sweetness.
“Yeah, right.” Leaving the hat on, he moved to a rack of shirts. Flipping through them, he asked, “Who owns the store?”
“I do.”
He sent her a glance. “So you’re a businesswoman. Or should I say businessperson?”
She shrugged. “Say anything you wish.”
He stopped to give her a long look. “That’s an opening if I ever heard one. Do you mean it?”
“I’m talking about my title, Mr. Sheridan.”
“Duke. I’ve decided to call you Lola, so you may as well call me Duke.”
“Male logic. Now why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“Maybe you don’t surprise easily.” His smile flashed. “Then again, it could be that you’re feeling as overwhelmed by me as I am by you.”
“Oh, please,” she said, attempting a contemptuous intonation. “Men do not overwhelm me, Mr. Sheridan.”
“Not even once in a while?” he said teasingly, at the same time pulling three shirts from the circular rack. “I’ll take these, along with the hat,” he said before she could respond to his silly question.
Lola accepted the shirts, genuinely surprised that he was planning to buy something.
“And these two,” he said, adding another two shirts to the three she was holding.
“Would you like to try them on?” she asked.
“Don’t need to. They’ll fit. Let’s see what else you’ve got in here.” He walked over to the jeans section, which was in a different location than the table of jeans at the front of the store. With his hands on his hips, he perused the laden shelves. “Good size selection. Little guys, big guys…” He gave her a grin. “They can all buy here.”
“That’s the idea.” His grins were much too adorable for Lola’s comfort. And yet she found herself waiting for the next one. She enjoyed flirting with an outstanding guy as much as any woman, but there was the strangest little voice in the back of her mind issuing warnings. If she remembered anything at all about the Sheridans, father and son, it was the rumors that they always got what they wanted, when they wanted it. It was entirely possible that Duke flirted with every reasonably attractive woman he ran across, just as he was doing with her, so she shouldn’t allow herself to get too giddy about it.
“I’ll bring these shirts to the counter while you look around,” she told him. “Would you like me to take the hat, too?”
“Thanks, but I like it right where it is.”
“Fine.” Lola walked across the store to the counter and hung the shirts on a rack behind it.
Betty excused herself momentarily from her customer and hurried over. “Do you know who he is?” she asked in an undertone.
“He introduced himself. I remember the name, but not him.”
“He’s the best catch in the county,” Betty whispered. “Be nice.” Smiling broadly, she returned to her customer.
Lola could see Duke pulling jeans from a shelf; apparently he had found his size. After a deep breath, she walked back to him. “These jeans are—”
“No salesmanship necessary. I’ll take four pair.”
“Oh.”
“I see you carry boots.” Duke started for the boot display.
“Not many, Mr. Sheridan. I plan to expand the shoe and boot department, but at the present my stock is limited.”
“These are good.” He picked up a gray lizard boot and looked it over. “Got this one in a size twelve?”
“I think…possibly. Let me check.” Hurrying to the storage room, she scanned the boot boxes. Elated, she returned with a size twelve. “Sit down. You really must try boots on. They vary a great deal depending on style and brand, and boots should fit perfectly.”
“Really?”
She flushed slightly. He’d worn boots all his life, for heaven’s sake, and certainly didn’t need advice on how they should fit.
“Sorry,” he said. “Only teasing. I like it when you blush.” Duke sat in one of the three chairs Lola had installed in the boot section of the store. “Are you going to put them on me?”
“No,
