Authors: Blanche Marriott
Way Out West (17 page)
She lowered her eyes. “I
know. It’s just—I don’t know if I’ll ever fit in. I’m uncomfortable with the
western life.”
“Then we’ll build a life
together outside of it. As long as I have you, I can be happy anywhere.”
Her heart jumped again
and she wanted to believe this time. “Rand, do you mean that?”
He pulled her down for a
fierce kiss. She tasted his sincerity, his promises, everything that said he
would dedicate his life to her. In her head, she heard the triumphant howl of a
coyote.
His hands were no longer
cool as they held her face to gaze into her eyes. “Does that answer your
question?”
She swallowed hard.
“Yes.”
“Good. Now answer mine.
Will you marry me?”
Tears filled her eyes,
blurring her vision. He knew all her imperfections and failures, and still he
wanted her.
“First I’d like to
finish my stint at the saloon with Miss Becky. I don’t want to be a quitter
again.”
“Will you marry me?”
“And you never finished
courting me properly.”
“Will you marry me?”
“And we have to wait
until you’ve recuperated—“
“Callie! I call your
bluff. Answer me.”
She laughed at the
gambler’s tactic. He knew how to charm a lady. “Under one condition,” she
countered.
“Name it.”
“You grow back your
mustache.”
They both laughed and
kissed until the nurse came in to see why the buzzer kept ringing.
Guests filed out of the
little white church at the edge of town. Everyone in Way Out West had turned
out for the wedding of the year, even Abe the blacksmith. After all, he was
best man.
Reverend Simms stepped
forth from the church announcing, “Friends, I give you Mr. and Mrs. Benton
Randall, Jr.”
Callie and Rand walked
out into the bright sunlight and were greeted by cheers and whistles. Handfuls
of rice pelted them as they descended the steps. Rand leaned heavily on his
cane, but his eyes were on his beautiful bride on his arm.
Her gown was low-cut
with high Victorian sleeves. The fitted bodice and waist accented her delicate
figure. The train reached far behind where Becky, the maid of honor,
meticulously tended to its folds.
Rand
looked handsome in his white suit with long
tails and matching top hat, a startling contrast to his dark coloring.
Together, they looked like they belonged on the top of a wedding cake instead
of in the middle of the Old West.
As the couple approached
the waiting black stallion, Becky caught up. “So where are you going?” she
whispered to Callie.
Smiling
conspiratorially, Callie blushed before answering. “To his ranch.”
“His ranch? Just outside
of town? Oh, Rand. Couldn’t you think of something more romantic than that?”
Rand
sent Becky a chastising frown while Callie
laughed. “It was my idea. I couldn’t wait for the honeymoon to begin.” She
turned an adoring face to her husband. “Besides, we have the rest of our lives
to travel. Right now all we want is to be together.”
Rand
smiled warmly on the face that lit up his life.
He then turned a gloating look to Becky. “See, I
can
get away from Way
Out West. Are you satisfied now?”
“Yes, but you’ll always
be just down the road.”
“True. But Callie will
have all the modern conveniences at her fingertips. We’ll have the best of both
worlds.”
Callie squeezed his arm.
“It’ll be a perfect life, darling.” They kissed to the loud cheers of the
crowd.
“Besides, Becky, this
place kind of grows on you. I promise to stay on as one of your saloon girls
until motherhood gets in the way of those revealing dresses.”
“And,” Rand interjected,
“she’s agreed to revise the manual to make it more user friendly.”
“That’s right. At least
this way I’ll have no excuse for not reading it.”
Becky shook her head. “I
never thought I’d see the day...”
As Becky’s sentence
trailed off, Callie turned to hug her teary-eyed parents. “Mom, Dad, I’m so
glad you came. You don’t know how much this means to me.”
Mr. Sumner held her
tightly. “You don’t know how much it means to
us.
All we ever wanted was
to see you happy.”
Callie moved back to
take her husband’s hand. “I am. I’m happier than I ever thought possible.”
The smiling couple moved
to the horse where Rand easily lifted Callie and delicately placed her on the
saddle. With a slight hesitation as he got his footing, he mounted the stallion
behind his bride. They waved to the crowd and set off on the open road.
A hand painted sign hung
from the horse’s rump:
Just Hitched.
Becky smiled through
teary eyes. “To think I saw this coming a mile away.”
# # #
Blanche Marriott began writing romance novels in 1991 while
balancing her career as a wood products manufacturing manager. She’s since
completed fourteen contemporary novels and now works for a CPA firm as a
payroll/bookkeeping specialist. Over the years,
Blanche has been
active in two writing groups, serving on the Boards of Directors several times,
and working on the New England Chapter’s conference committee for seven years.
Her first published novel,
KALEIDOSCOPE
, won 2
nd
place in the 2003
WisRWA Write Touch Readers’ Award
for
published authors
. Her second book,
WAY OUT WEST
, won the
prestigious
New Jersey Romance Writers’ 2003
Golden Leaf
Award
for Short Contemporary.
WAY OUT WEST
was also
a
finalist in the 2004 Virginia Romance Writers’ HOLT Medallion Awards.
You can visit her website,
www.blanchemarriott.com
, or email
her at
[email protected]
, or
follow her on Facebook (Blanche.Marriott)
If you enjoy sweet romances, following is an excerpt of
KALEIDOSCOPE
.
HIS BROTHER’S BABY
Twin Brothers. One woman.
Is she in love with the right one?
Contemporary Romance
KALEIDOSCOPE (read an excerpt below)
Money can't buy everything, least of all affections.
Sweet Contemporary Romance
WAY OUT WEST
A fantasy town where city girl
meets gambler with a big secret.
Sweet Contemporary Romance
APRIL’S FOOL
How can a wedding album start a tug-of-war between the
bride and groom?
When they aren’t really married and an April Fools’ joke
goes awry.
Sweet Contemporary Romance
BORN TO BITCH
Confessions of a bitchaholic.
Non-fiction, humor
Chapter One
“Yes, my father's name is on the lease, but
I
make
the payments. This is
m
y
business.”
Frustration pulsing at her temples, Janeen Warner gripped
the phone tighter. Her business, hmph. For how long? All work and no play had
left her with an empty purse and a pocket full of principles. The last thing
she wanted was for her father to bail another one of his children out of a
sticky situation.
While the unwavering trained voice at the other end of the
phone droned on about strict policies and limited extensions, Janeen noticed
movement on the stairs outside her little sublevel gift shop. Through the glass
door, she saw a long pair of legs clad in black, perfectly pressed trousers
making their way down the stairs.
Not the usual browser for an ordinary day on the Market,
she mused, returning her concentration to the problem at hand.
“Miss Warner?” the nasal voice on the phone called.
“Yes. Look, I understand your position, and I hope you can
understand mine. I'm a little late with the payment, but I will get it to you
very soon. I'm sure I'm not the first tenant in Quincy Market to be late with
their rent.”
Outside, the man in the black trousers talked to a second
man in sunglasses. Although she couldn't see their faces, she noted that both
seemed upset. Hands waved, fingers pointed. Strange behavior for people about
to enter a gift shop. Finally, the man in sunglasses acquiesced and the first
man stepped toward her door.
“All right, Miss Warner, but this extension is only for one
week. I have certain procedures I must follow.”
Janeen sighed with relief. She'd gained some time, enough
hopefully not to drag her father into this. Before she could answer the caller,
the door signal buzzed and the tall man entered her shop, tipping his dark head
slightly so as not to bump the header.
She lowered her voice and spoke closely into the receiver,
away from the newcomer. “I promise you. You'll get your money. Just leave my
father out of it.”
She hung up the phone with more force than she normally
would have displayed in front of a customer, but frustration had gotten the
best of her. At the sound, the man turned his head slightly, cocking a thick,
dark eyebrow in her direction.
Janeen forced a weary smile. She had to make the most of her
business while she still had it. The thought of ending up like her brothers,
ever dependent on their father, was never far from her mind, and her best reason
for pushing just that little bit harder.
“Good afternoon,” she said, hoping she sounded more pleasant
than she felt. The phone call combined with the long, slow day in the store
left her wanting nothing more than to get home to a nice hot bath.
The impeccably dressed man, scanning a rack of postcards,
nodded with a hint of a smile. Her gaze slid down to his white shirt collar,
red tie, and long, dark gray overcoat. Very traditional, very proper. Black
leather gloves completed the ensemble, which Janeen thought a bit flamboyant
for such a beautiful April day, even in Boston.
Gloves. How odd. Suddenly a chill ran down her spine.
Remembering the other man, she looked to the door. Dressed in a dark suit,
which barely disguised his herculean build, he waited outside. His Secret
Service-like sunglasses hid the direction of his gaze.
The chill returned. Shopkeepers in Quincy Market had been
warned of increasing thefts with the slow economy. Although these men didn't
exactly look like petty thieves, their strange behavior put her on guard, her
fatigue forgotten for the moment.
Keeping the man outside within her peripheral range, she
returned her attention to the man inside. He'd begun to walk slowly along the
opposite counter, looking at the displays. From the side, she studied the
strong bone structure of his face and his perfectly trimmed hair with its neat,
short sideburns.
“Is there anything I can help you with?” she asked, a slight
crack in her voice.
Again he turned his head in her direction, then back to his
browsing. “Umm, I'm looking for a gift for my...fiancée.” He had a deep
melodious voice that soothed her nerves.
Janeen noted the uncertainty of his last word and felt a
strange tightness in her chest, the same feeling she got every time her mother
asked when she was going to settle down and have some kids. Resisting that
biological clock and sticking to her promise to let it tick until she was
successful got harder every day. She hated to admit it, but at twenty-eight,
she wasn't any closer to success than she'd been at twenty.
“Is there anything specific you're looking for?”
“No, not really. Do you have any suggestions?”
When he finally looked at her straight on, her breath caught
in her throat as she stared into the largest, most intense, dark eyes she'd
ever seen. The classic bone structure she'd noted earlier was softened by
smooth, olive skin, and though his nose was large, it enhanced his good looks
rather than detracted from them.
Her eyes returned magnetically to his, but she quickly
diverted them to the door, afraid to expose her unsettled feelings. The sentry
outside still manned his station.
“I, uh, suppose jewelry is always a safe bet.” Although her
stumbling words betrayed her, she tried not to look nervous.
“I suppose.” He looked down at the glass case. “Can you show
me something?”
Picking up her keys, she walked over to the jewelry case and
brought out a black velvet tray. “What about a pair of titanium earrings?”
Without thinking, she shifted into her sales-pitch mode. “A special chemical process
brings out the brilliant pinks, purples and blues which make them so striking.”
He gave the jewelry a quick look and shrugged. “She probably
has more earrings than she knows what to do with.” He ambled over to the next
display, his steps slow, almost timed.
After returning the tray to its bed, Janeen relaxed a
little, relinquishing her earlier fear of danger. If he was going to rob her,
he would have made his move by now.
So why the gorilla at the door?
The man stopped at a tray of scarves. Janeen admired the
straight line of his broad shoulders under his gray coat and imagined a well
toned body underneath.
As she followed him, she picked up the trailing scent of a
sweet cologne that reminded her of the mint cloves in her mother's garden. No
doubt it was expensive, as were his clothes. With his gloved hands clasped
behind his back, he bent at the waist to inspect the delicate, colorful
accessories.
“Those are hand-painted silk scarves. Does she like
scarves?” Doing her best to be helpful, Janeen reasoned if he had money to
spend, her job was to help him spend it.
“I don't know.” He moved the cuff of his sleeve aside to
peek at his gold watch.
“A scarf adds a dash of elegance to the simplest outfit.”
“Knowing me, I'd pick the wrong color,” he answered helplessly.
Quite a contrast to his strong looks.
“Well, what colors does she usually wear?”
“I'm not sure.”
This man is hopeless!
He was about to marry a woman
he knew nothing about. If he had so little insight into what she might like,
maybe Janeen should just push him in the direction of some heavier price tags.
He certainly could afford it, or so it appeared, and she couldn't afford
not
to try.
“It sounds like you need something different, something not
everyone has.”
He faced her, arching a black eyebrow, “Such as?”
Again, she was startled by those dark eyes, so penetrating.
This time she noted a hint of sadness, but it quickly vanished with a blink of
his heavy lashes.
Janeen moved to an adjacent display case while sorting
through her keys. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his dark form following
her and she told herself to remain calm. He was a customer. Her job was to make
a sale, a sizable one if possible. Unlocking the display door, she removed a
stained glass cylinder from a wooden cradle.
“What about a kaleidoscope?”
He drew his thick eyebrows together as though surprised she
should suggest such an odd item. Looking down at the device she held out to
him, the wave of surprise on his face changed into serious interest as he
gingerly took the scope from her.
“Point it toward the light over there and look into the
lens,” she instructed.
He turned his back to her and lifted the scope to catch the
light then exhaled a soft whistle and an indecipherable exclamation.
Janeen never tired of people's reactions to her pieces of
art. They reinforced her desire to design more. She wanted to introduce the
whole world to kaleidoscopes.
Her
scopes.
“Turn the chamber slowly and watch the colors change.”
“This is fascinating!” he exclaimed, obviously enjoying the
visual circus before him. “The colors are brilliant!”
“That one's called 'Fantasia.' It's our biggest seller in
the line.”
He glanced back at her. “You have a
line
of
kaleidoscopes?”
“Yes. They're actually quite popular. Here.” She brought out
two more scopes. The cool leather of his glove brushed the back of her hand as
he reached to take one. The hairs on her forearm stood at attention and a
tingling sensation raced up to her shoulder.
There must be a draft in here,
she thought.
“I had no idea kaleidoscopes were so sophisticated. The last
time I saw one was when I got one of those little cardboard things in my
Christmas stocking as a kid.”
Janeen smiled at the comment she'd heard a thousand times.
“Kaleidoscopes have always been somewhat sophisticated. Through the ages, they
were often the gifts of kings and queens.”
He looked into the new scope, totally engrossed in the
splendor. Turning the chamber slowly, he murmured low appreciative sounds.
Pleased, she watched him with undisguised pride. She knew
the beautiful colors and shapes he was viewing. She knew every one of her
scopes, like a mother knows her child. “That one's called 'Mirror Mirror' and
the other is 'Seascape.' ”
“The names are very appropriate,” he remarked as he looked
into the lens of the second one.
“I try to keep a theme in mind when naming them.”
Lowering the scope, he looked surprised. “You name them?”
“Yes, when I design them.” She sighed inwardly. She'd had so
little time lately to do the designing she loved most.
The surprise on his face now changed to confusion. “You
designed all of these?” He looked into the case that held the twelve
kaleidoscopes she'd hoped would launch her career.
“Mm hmm.” Janeen fiddled with her keys, embarrassed by his
admiring stare. She licked her lips. Was that his cologne she could taste?
“Well, all but this one,” she said, pointing. “This is a Gravelle, one of my
favorite designers. I couldn't resist buying it at a trade show.”
“Is that how you mass market them?”
“I wish.” She gave a soft laugh. “No, right now I only sell
them here. Not that I haven't tried elsewhere. It's just a tough market to
break into.”
“Well, I'm impressed.” He smiled, motioning toward the
display case. “May I see the rest?”
“Sure.” She gladly brought out the other scopes, confident
she had hooked him. A big sale would come in handy right now, especially after
that phone call.
She patiently watched as he removed his gloves to better
handle the instruments. His fingers were long, slender, and noticeably
smooth--not the hands of a laborer. Maybe he was a high finance tycoon, the
kind who had regular manicures and used his hands only to sign his name.
Yet they were strong hands--his knuckles bulged when he
moved his fingers. They were expressive and sensual in the way he caressed each
scope as he looked through it. She presumed his hands were his tools and he
needed the gloves for protection.
The door signal buzzed and two plump, silver-haired women
came in immediately followed by the burly guard in sunglasses. Janeen had
almost forgotten about him. She looked from the approaching giant to the
unsuspecting ladies, unsure where to direct her attention.
“Go ahead, take care of them,” the man with the scopes told
her. “I'll just look through these while I wait.”
* * *
Georgios Andros watched the lovely shopkeeper walk away. She
had a classic kind of beauty: creamy complexion, long, dark, silky hair,
striking blue eyes, and an extremely curvaceous figure that set his pulse
racing. Her navy blue wool skirt hugged her hips gently before it flared around
her shapely knees. The white silk blouse flowed over hidden curves with its
high cowl neck adorned by a simple gold chain.
But looks weren't what excited him the most. As his manager
said, he could get all the beautiful women he wanted without even batting an
eye. What truly moved him was the beauty of the creations this woman had
designed out of bits of wood, glass, mirrors, and crystals. Creativity and
intelligence stirred him more than anything else.
While Tony stood behind him, he continued to inspect the
kaleidoscopes at the counter. Their beautiful images strummed music in his
head, music he hadn't heard in a long time, music he'd thought he might never
hear again, melodies that had been with him for as long as he could remember.
“Sir?” Tony asked in a low voice.
Georgios chose not to answer. He knew he was stalling, but
the trip was inevitable. As soon as he got back in the car, he'd be whisked to Logan Airport for the dreaded recording session in New York. His detailed arguments against it
had raised his manager's attention but in the end made no difference. He had a
date with a microphone, ready or not.
Between viewing each kaleidoscope, Georgios stole glances at
the saleswoman as she tended to the older women. She dealt with her customers
efficiently, taking great care to see that they understood each product. He
liked her professionalism. He liked her self-assuredness.