How to Lasso a Cowboy (11 page)

Harlan settled in one of the two chairs he had made, while Ernie plopped into the other. Carl fitted the two men with headsets, then adjusted their microphones. Then he stepped back and, with his fingers, began counting down to airtime.

When Carl gave the “go” signal, Harlan started speaking. “Welcome to
Horsin' Around with Harlan.
Yep, folks, that's right, a bonus show in the middle of the day, being broadcast live from Cuppa Java Café, right in downtown Edgerton Shores. And all you listeners out there who have
computer access, today is the day that WFFM launches its live webstream. Tell your friends, tell your family, because anyone, anywhere can now listen to
Horsin' Around with Harlan.
” It had taken a case of beer and a lot of cajoling to get the tech guy to stay late yesterday and implement the webstream, but Harlan was sure this would be the ticket to expanding the station's reach—and in turn netting bigger guests, and bigger ad dollars. “Today, I've got a special guest with me. Ernie Watson, the Love Doctor.” He drew out the last two words, giving them a seductive spin. “He's here to answer all your questions about finding that special person. Welcome to the show, Ernie.”

“Thanks for having me, Harlan,” Ernie said. Beside him, people lined up by a third mike, waiting to ask Ernie questions. “I have to say, I like Edgerton Shores.”

“Really? Why?” They'd practiced a little of this banter earlier today, putting together a nice setup for the questions on dating.

“Because it's so filled with
love,
” he emphasized the last word. “Why, that town-wide Love Lottery has got people's hearts all aflutter.”

Harlan laughed. “Maybe we need to host a wedding lottery after this.”

“Indeed,” Ernie said. “If we can get Edgerton Shores' most eligible bachelor hitched, hell, that would be national news.”

Harlan sent Ernie a warning glare. The one thing he had told Ernie was off-limits was Harlan's love life.

He'd promised Sophie. First step in keeping that promise—not talk about her. “How about we take some questions?” Harlan said, changing the subject. “I know there are a few people who've been waiting to ask you for advice.”

The first question came from a college student who
was suffering from unrequited love. Ernie told him that if he moved on, he might have better luck. “Harlan, what do you think?”

“Sometimes,” Harlan added, “the grass looks a lot greener when it moves to another pasture.”

“And sometimes,” Ernie said, “what you got in your own pasture is perfect.” Ernie waved toward the coffee shop, indicating Sophie Watson.

Harlan scowled at Ernie. Damn, the man was stubborn. He'd been friends with Ernie for years. Surely he, of all people, would understand why Harlan had put dating on the back burner for now.

Three more college students asked questions that ranged from the best time to propose to dealing with parents who were less than enthusiastic about a couple being together. Ernie answered them all with a dose of wisdom and a dollop of his sarcastic humor, calling on Harlan from time to time to add his two cents, too.

“We'll be right back,” Harlan said when Ernie finished the last question, “after we hear these messages from our sponsors.”

“And when we return, we'll put Harlan on the spot about his love life,” Ernie blurted into the mike, just before an advertisement cut him off.

“What the hell was that?” Harlan asked, as the ad played in his ear, telling him his mike was off for now. “The deal was we talk just to the townspeople.”

“Don't you live in this town, too?” Ernie arched a brow. “Come on, Harlan. Your audience wants to hear your love story.”

He'd been giving them more details than he cared to about his relationship with Sophie. Lately, though, he'd wanted to keep more of that private. Close the door to
his listening public. “I told you, we're not talking about that.”

Sophie slipped around in front of them, exchanging Harlan's now cold tea for a fresh mug. Had she heard that exchange? If so, it didn't show in her features, which were as placid as a lake at twilight. “The show seems to be going great. I've got three dozen people inside, ordering lattes while they wait to ask their questions. It's exactly the kind of boost my business needed. Thank you.”

Gratitude shone in her eyes. When she'd asked him to help her create more publicity for her shop, he'd seen it then as an opportunity to get what he wanted—more attention for the radio station. He'd concocted this live show stunt, not for her, but for WFFM, all under the guise of doing what she'd asked—giving the shop a little PR.

But as he saw the unspoken thank-you on her face, he found himself experiencing a new feeling.

Sympathy.

He understood, after his weeks at the helm of his brother's radio station, just how much pressure lay on the shoulders of a business owner, particularly one struggling to be noticed in a crowded marketplace. Had he been so focused on Tobias and improving Tobias's bottom line that he had missed the impact on those around him?

All those jokes. All that “harmless fun,” as he'd called it, had been hurting her. Damn.

Harlan cleared his throat, and held up the hot mug. “Thanks.”

She smiled. “No problem.”

The urge to say more, to tell her he understood, rose in his chest. Before he could speak, the commercial break was over. The music for the last ad faded away. Harlan held up a finger to Sophie, asking her to wait—they only
had a few minutes before they broke again for the news. Maybe he could slip in something more about her shop.

“Welcome back to
Horsin' Around with Harlan,
” he said. “We're live outside the Cuppa Java Café in downtown Edgerton Shores. If you want a cup of coffee that'll keep you running the rodeo—” at that, he glanced at Sophie and she flashed him a smile that warmed him through and through “—then this is the place to come. Right now, we've got a whole line of people wanting to talk to Ernie Watson, the Love Doctor. Let's take another question.”

As Harlan said that, a skinny boy in his early twenties stood up to the mike, gripping it like it was a lifeline. He licked his lips several times, and shifted from foot to foot.

“Before we take our next question,” Ernie cut in, “I say we turn the tables. And ask Miss Sophie here a few questions.”

Harlan cursed the live feed. He couldn't say anything without sounding like a jerk. He had to go with the flow, make it sound like it was all part of the show. “Sounds like a great idea, Ernie.” Harlan turned to Sophie, and hoped her good mood would extend to being part of the show. After all, this could be the promo she needed—if he kept it all positive. “Sophie, why don't you join us?”

She started to sputter a protest, her eyes wide. The college student at the mike jerked the stand away, clearly not about to give up his place in line. “I've, uh, got coffees to make,” she said.

“Come on, now. It'll be great to hear the owner of Cuppa Java Café's take on this whole Love Lottery thing, don't you think?” He gave her an encouraging grin, but still she hesitated.

“Folks, let's encourage our shy Sophie here,” Ernie
said, gesturing toward the crowd gathered on the sidewalk. “Sophie, Sophie!”

The other people joined in, until Sophie's name carried on a wave of voices. Her eyes widened even more, and she looked ready to bolt. Harlan should have let her go, should have moved on to the skinny boy's question, but her reluctance intrigued him. Didn't she trust him, after the morning at the station?

Well, considering that had been followed by Ernie's arrival, maybe she didn't. He'd have to change that. Before he could think twice, he reached out and tugged her over to him. He tugged a little too hard, though, and instead of Sophie stopping at his side, she tumbled into his lap.

He caught a whiff of her perfume—something with vanilla and jasmine, the fragrance notes low and smoky. Her skin brushed against his, warm, smooth, intoxicating.

If looks could kill, Sophie would have severed an artery with her gaze. She scrambled out of Harlan's lap. She brushed at her skirt, as if wiping every trace of him off the cotton fabric. “You have a way of making a point, Mr. Jones.”

Ernie chuckled. “Seems you two don't need a prescription from the Love Doctor. You're mixing up your own formula right here on live radio.”

“The only thing getting mixed here is caramel frappuccinos,” Sophie said. The crowd behind her laughed.

“And why is that?” Ernie asked, leaning in toward Sophie. “Seems to me, we have two lonely hearts here, just made for each other.”

“I'm not interested in a relationship,” Sophie said. Her gaze darted to the side, clearly looking for an escape route. “And I don't want to talk about my love life on the radio.”

“Why not?” Ernie asked.

“I'm busy.”

Ernie waved a hand in a wide arc. That was Ernie—every movement and gesture was exaggerated and larger than life. “You're never too busy for love,” he said. “Because if love's going to find you, it's going to do it on its timetable, not yours.”

Sophie shook her head. “I don't think—”

“Take this Love Lottery. I bet you were just as busy before your name was paired up with Harlan's here, as you were after.”

“Well, yes, but—”

“So love just plopped itself right into your lap. Sort of the same way you just plopped into Harlan's a second ago.” Ernie chuckled.

Harlan knew he should get this derailed train back on the tracks, but truth be told, he was as interested in Sophie's answers as Ernie. Why was she so resistant to dating? Was it him? Or men in general?

“I think,” Ernie said, rising out of his chair and taking the microphone with him as he crossed to Sophie, “that you need to grab love by the horns and hold on for the ride.”

“And I think I need to get back inside and finish making the coffee before the customers riot.” She still had that wide-eyed nervous look about her. Being in the spotlight wasn't a place she liked to be.

It didn't make sense to Harlan. If she played it right, she could get publicity for her shop. She seemed determined to avoid being in the public eye.

“I say the two of you should kiss,” Ernie said. “Then you'll see what prize the Love Lottery has brought you!”

Now he'd gone too far. Love Doctor or no Love Doctor, this was too much. Harlan got to his feet, forgetting about
the mike beside him, the listeners who were eating up every word. “Ernie, I think—”

But Harlan's objections were drowned out by the crowd, which had hopped on Ernie's bandwagon with enthusiasm. “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” they shouted, then the crowd pressed in closer, enveloping them in a crush of people.

Sophie had that deer-in-the-headlights look, and Harlan moved toward her, intending to lead her out of the crowd. Ernie must have seen his movements as intention, though, and he clapped Harlan on the back. “Give her a kiss she'll remember, Harlan, my boy,” Ernie said. “Show people what winners get in the Love Lottery.”

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” the crowd chanted. The sound rose in volume until it seemed to echo off the surrounding buildings.

As the crowd pressed forward, the distance between Sophie and him narrowed until she was mere inches away. He inhaled, catching the sweet, sexy notes of her perfume. Desire coiled inside him, tightening with every millimeter of winnowing distance between them, until he could think of nothing but holding her, touching her, kissing her. He'd wanted to kiss her, almost from the first moment they'd met.

“Seems the crowd wants a kiss,” he said.

“I don't care what the crowd wants.” She raised her chin, a defiant, stormy look on her face. He should have backed away. He didn't.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

He reached up and traced along her jaw. “What do you want, Sophie?”

“I want…” Her voice trailed off and her gaze dropped to his lips. The crowd dropped away, and it was just them.
And the kiss they both had been waiting for. One they had danced around so many times. “Harlan.”

Hearing his name was all he needed. He reached up, cupped her jaw with both hands, then brought his mouth to hers, hovering above her lips for one long, sweet second. Anticipation filled him, and he became intently aware of how she felt beneath him, how lush her lips looked.

The chants of the crowd became a distant din. All he saw, all he noticed, was Sophie's breath whispering in and out between her slightly parted lips, and the dark ocean filling her green eyes.

He lowered his head, and captured her mouth, soft and slow at first, just a sweet, sweet taste. She didn't respond for a moment, then in tiny degrees she went soft against him, her mouth opening to his, her body yielding to his touch. His fingers inched along the tender skin of her jaw, capturing more of her, drawing her closer.

She tasted like candy, like a luscious dessert he had never sampled before. He'd expected sassy, spicy even, but Sophie Watson's kiss was tender, delightful. Unforgettable.

The piercing sound of wolf whistles cut through the fog in Harlan's brain, and he stepped back, releasing Sophie. Her lips were flush from their kiss, and a soft pink had risen in her cheeks. When his gaze met hers, she glanced away.

So. He wasn't the only one affected by that kiss.

Ernie clapped him hard on the back again. “Now that's what I'm talking about! That's love right there, folks. True love.”

“No,” Sophie said. “That was a mistake. One I won't be repeating.” She shoved her way through the crowd and disappeared inside the shop.

S
OPHIE
snuck out the back door before Harlan ended his show. Lulu called her a coward, but she told herself it was self-preservation. She'd gone home to work on the shop's books, and spent the afternoon essentially avoiding Harlan.

What had she been thinking? Kissing Harlan Jones, of all people, and doing it right there, in the middle of the sidewalk while half the town cheered her on? In front of her shop at that? She'd been in some kind of fog, that was for sure, or maybe she'd just caved to the peer pressure of a dozen chanting people.

But it hadn't been that, and she knew it. She'd wanted him to kiss her.

She'd wanted him to kiss her for days now. Had thought about almost nothing else since that near-kiss at the radio station. And when he'd zeroed in on her, and asked her what she'd wanted, she'd thought only of one thing.

Him.

And now she'd gone and done the one thing she didn't want to do—create yet another public spectacle. Lord, the gossip would be flying fast and furious after this. Undoubtedly, the newspapers would carry the story, one after another like dominoes. Maybe she could just hide in her house for like the next century.

“Hello? Sophie?” Mildred's voice carried through the front door. “Are you home?”

“Of course she is, Mildred,” Grandma Watson said. “Her front door is wide-open.”

“Maybe there's a robber inside. Hang on a minute, let me get my pepper spray.”

Sophie heard the clanging of things in Mildred's massive purse, and bit back a laugh. “I'm in the kitchen,” she called out, then poked her head around the corner just to be sure they'd heard her. “No need to pepper spray me.”

Mildred muttered a curse and tucked the can back in her purse. “One of these days, I'm going to need this thing.”

Sophie invited her grandmother and Mildred into the kitchen, and made a pitcher of raspberry iced tea. The afternoon sun was high in the sky outside, and the women were parched. She poured them each a glass, and set them on the table. Maybe their company would help take her mind off that disaster with Harlan Jones. She could just imagine what he'd be saying about her on his radio show tomorrow.

No, she definitely didn't want to imagine that. Oh, why had she kissed him?

“What, no cookies?” Grandma said. And pouted. Actually pouted.

Sophie laughed, then retrieved a box from the breadbox. “Here you are. Chocolate chip.”

Grandma and Mildred each took a cookie, then gestured to Sophie to join them. “So,” Mildred said, leaning in close, “I hear you kissed Harlan Jones today.”

“It was on the radio and everything,” Grandma said. “And I heard that reporter from the
Edgerton Shores Weekly
is going to do a little piece in his About Town column on it.”

“Just what I need. Bet the wire services can't wait to
run with that one.” Sophie groaned. Kissing Harlan had been the biggest mistake she could make, yet every ounce of her wanted to do it again.

Damn that man.

“I'm sure the news isn't going to pick up that story,” Mildred said. “Why, it's not nearly as big as running out on a senate candidate.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Grandma laughed. “It'll be fine. It always is.”

Sophie toyed with a cookie. “I just don't want people thinking of me as that woman who ran out on her wedding. Or the woman who kissed Harlan Jones on live radio. I want people to see me as a serious businesswoman.”

“And where's the fun in that?” Mildred said. “You can have fun and run a business. Why, you've been doing exactly that this past week.”

Sophie let out a gust of frustration, then turned away to refill her glass, even though it was still half full. “I've got to get back to work.”

“No, you don't,” Mildred said, getting to her feet and grabbing her purse. “It's already after four. You have a carnival to get to.”

Sophie groaned. She'd completely forgotten about tonight's Spring Fling activity. Yet another sign that Harlan Jones was all wrong for her. One kiss and her brain emptied like a dam with a hole.

Mildred and Grandma left, taking extra cookies with them just in case. Sophie returned to her paperwork. Maybe if she went late to the carnival she could avoid—

Her doorbell rang. Sophie turned down the hall, and froze.

Harlan Jones's dogs were peeking in her front windows, one on either side of the door, tongues lolling and leaving streaks of saliva on the glass. She doubted the dogs could
ring the doorbell, so that meant if the canine terrors were here, so was Harlan Jones.

“Let me guess,” she said as she opened the door. “I left the show and so you dragged it all the way to my house.”

The edges of his smile were shadowed by the brim of his hat. “Not at all. I'm here for honorable reasons.”

“What honorable reasons do you have for anything?”

“I've come calling, Miss Watson. I do believe we have a date at the carnival.”

“I don't think it's a good idea if we go together.”

“Well, I do.” He crooked his arm toward her. “Shall we?”

Just when she thought she'd rid herself of Harlan Jones, he popped back up like a bad penny. “Listen, you don't have to go through with these dates. I'm sure there are plenty of couples who aren't working out, and stopped participating.”

“Who says we aren't working out?”

“I'd think that's obvious. We barely get along.”

He took a step closer. The temperature of the air quadrupled. “I'm afraid I have to disagree.” His voice dropped to a low, rough whisper. “Didn't you enjoy that kiss?”

Just the mention of it sent a bolt of heat through her veins. She forced herself to hold her ground, not to betray the urge to arch her back and lean into him, and offer her lips to his again. One kiss didn't make for a relationship. Especially not one that Harlan had used as entertainment for his listeners.

Just when she thought she knew him, he proved her wrong.

“That was merely a publicity stunt,” she said. “For your show.”

“No, sugar, it was anything but.”

“Are you really going to stand there and tell me that kissing me on
live radio
wasn't about boosting your ratings?”

“It wasn't.” He moved a little closer and his hat's shadow dropped over her. “Let me show you.”

“Show me?”

He nodded. Slow. Once. “Show you that kiss was real. That I was as knocked off my boots as you.”

She shook her head. “I don't believe that for a second.”

“Then let me prove it to you, darlin'.” Before she could react, he cupped the back of her head and drew her mouth to his. There was no soft lead-in with this kiss. It was hard and fast and hot. Her pulse jumped into overdrive, and heat flooded her body. His tongue swept into her mouth, teased along hers. Desire exploded in her brain, and she pressed into him, opening her mouth wider, wanting more, wanting…

Just wanting.

He deepened the kiss, his fingers tangling in her hair, his other hand coming around to splay against her back, fingertips dancing below the waistband of her skirt. He played against her mouth, his lips creating a deep, dark melody that whispered promises of a crescendo she would never forget.

God, he was good. He tasted like coffee and smelled like soap and hard work. The brim of his hat brushed against her hair, as if every part of him wanted to touch her. She stopped thinking, stopped doing anything but returning his kiss, her body pressing into his, asking without saying for more. For everything.

She'd never been kissed quite like this, and had never wanted a kiss to last forever as much as she did this one.

But Harlan drew back, his fingers slowly untangling
from her hair, drifting along her neck for a brief second before his touch left her. “
That,
darlin', was no publicity stunt.”

 

What the hell was he thinking?

Well, he hadn't been. That was as sure as rain in spring. A half hour had passed since Harlan had kissed Sophie on her porch. And ever since, he'd been unable to think of anything but kissing her again. He should have been concentrating on manning the radio station's booth at the carnival. Should have had his mind on joking with Ernie, and making the most out of this opportunity with the listeners. But his attention was divided, with the lion's share of it locked on Sophie Watson.

They had hurried over to the carnival, getting there with seconds to spare before Sophie needed to make the announcement opening it to the public. She'd been nervous on stage, a much more stressed woman than the one who ran the coffee shop.

Because of that kiss? Or because she was overworked and unhappy about having him tag along?

He told himself he didn't need to know. But that was a lie.

The show ended, and Harlan glanced over at Sophie. “Go ahead,” Carl said, seeing Harlan's interest. “We can get this.”

Harlan hesitated, then headed toward her. Maybe if he spent some more time with her, he'd remember why she annoyed him so much. Because damned if he could quite recall right now.

Sophie was standing beside the Tilt-A-Whirl, watching people spin around while pop music played in the background. She was wearing a white lace-trimmed sundress today, with flat shoes. She'd left her hair down, and done
something that made it curl around her shoulders. The outfit made her look as sweet and fresh as the spring air. He slipped in beside her. “Want to try it out?”

She jumped at the sound of his voice, and before she could stop it, a smile curved across her face. When she smiled, it was as if the early evening sunlight had kissed her features. For a second, looking at Sophie made Harlan wonder if his all-work philosophy had him missing out on something that could be incredible.

“I really should be working the ticket booth,” she said. “Mildred said we're shorthanded.”

The ride came to a stop and people began disembarking. From the corner of his eye, Harlan saw his brother head over to the station's booth. Tobias's movements were jerky and stuttered because of the crutches and cast. Harlan should head over to the booth, and make sure his brother went home. Tobias needed to rest, not worry about WFFM.

Guilt warred with desire. Harlan took Sophie's hand in his. Her palm was soft and delicate against his big, beefy paw. Surely he had five minutes, too, to take a spin. Just five minutes, that was all. And for that snippet of time, maybe he could taste what he'd been missing.

“Why, Miss Sophie,” he said, “how can you sell the rodeo if you haven't taken the bronco for a spin?”

“I…” She glanced again at the ride. The operator was waving in the next group. Her gaze went to the ticket booth, then back to the laughing, happy people climbing into the Tilt-A-Whirl's cars. “Okay. Just one ride.”

As he followed Sophie through the gate and handed their tickets to the ride operator, he told himself he wasn't just doing this for himself, he was doing this for the show, for the radio station, and ultimately, for his brother. So he'd have an adventure to recount tomorrow. After all, he'd
agreed to this Love Lottery thing. Might as well make the most of it.

But as he slid in beside Sophie into the cove-shaped car and pulled the bar over their laps, he knew he was lying to himself. He wanted to feel her body slide against his when the ride spun around a curve. He wanted to hear her laugh and see her smile, and know that he had been a part of that. He wanted to be with her, even if it was only for a couple of minutes. He didn't want to think about work, not while he was here with her. And especially not while she was smiling.

For the hundredth time that day, he asked himself what the hell he was doing. He had a business to run, a brother to worry about, a radio show to host. He didn't have time for a woman like Sophie Watson. She had small-town, settle-down, make-a-family written all over her.

He sure as hell wasn't here to settle down or make a family. He shouldn't even entertain the notion. People depended on him to stay on task—not get distracted by a woman.

Tinny pop music played inside the car. A warm breeze whispered the scent of the ocean. Beside him, he noticed Sophie tense. Her fingers wrapped around the thick metal bar.

“What's the matter? The ride make you nervous?”

“No. I just—” she sighed “—saw a reporter over there. I'm hoping he's not here to talk to me.”

“I thought you were publicity director for the Love Lottery thing. Doesn't that include talking to the media?” Everything he knew about this woman spoke of confidence, strength. She didn't seem the type to back down from a challenge, or heck, even two golden retrievers. Why did talking to the press or making a short speech get her so worked up?

She didn't answer his question. “How do you do your show and share your life with your listeners, and not wind up nervous that you might say too much?”

“I don't really think about it,” he said. “I just…talk.”

“Aren't you worried you'll say or do something that will embarrass you?”

Harlan laughed. “Darlin', I have made a career out of my embarrassin' moments.” Except lately he'd begun to wonder if maybe being so open was a mistake. Thousands of people thought they knew him when really, no one did. No one knew the Harlan Jones that existed outside that radio booth.

His gaze took in Sophie's delicate features, her earnest expression. At that moment, he could see she was genuinely interested in him and his thoughts. Him—Harlan Jones the man, not the personality. The same man who'd grown up poor in a tiny house in Dallas.

Right now, there was no tension between them. Merely a conversation between…well, friends. And it was nice, nicer than he'd expected.

“Doesn't that ever get to you? Having people know every detail of your private life?” she asked, as if she'd read his mind.