Читать книгу Texas Moon - Joan Elliott Pickart - Страница 10

Two

Nancy stared at the blue shawl as she agreed absently with Glenna that it was lovely. The older woman reminded Nancy once again how handsome Tux was, then hurried out the door to return to her own store.

“Tux?” Nancy said. She tore her eyes from the shawl to look at him. “You told me your friend couldn’t see into the future.”

“He can’t.” He frowned as he met her troubled gaze.

“But he did. He saw me wearing the shawl before it belonged to me, and now here it is.”

“Yeah, here it is.” He ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Why would he suddenly glimpse something from the future? I can’t accept this.”

“Oh, really?” Nancy returned, her voice rising. “Pitching a fit isn’t going to change the fact that I now own a bright blue shawl. You keep dancing around the subject of what was happening to me in those visions. I want you to tell me.”

Once again the tinkling bell over the door announced the entrance of someone into the store, and once again Tux sighed inwardly with relief.

An attractive, middle-aged woman, who was smartly dressed in an obviously expensive sundress with a matching wide-brimmed hat, went to the row of bins.

“Good morning,” the woman said, smiling at Nancy. “I need some beads for a blouse I’m having made. It has a Western style, and I thought it would be nice if beads were added to the fringe. A friend told me about your store, so I drove all the way over here to select the beads myself.”

“I appreciate your making the trip,” Nancy replied pleasantly. “Now then, what color is the blouse and what kind of material is it being made from?”

Tux tuned out the discussion between the two women. He shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and wandered around the narrow area making up the front portion of the store.

There was a lot of inventory in a small space, he mused. Nancy Shatner had used every inch of room to advantage. The sun pouring in the gleaming front window cascaded over the bins of buttons and beads, creating an extremely appealing kaleidoscope of color.

There were more beads than buttons, he noticed. The beads were a variety of every shape, size, color and material imaginable. There were even leather beads, as well as some that looked like delicate crystal.

Tux stopped in front of the two bins holding the buttons. He picked up a square button that appeared to be hand-painted china, then carefully replaced it. The next one he scrutinized was a replica of a buffalo nickel, the one after that a tiny wooden log.

Fascinating, he thought, and very clever. It would be interesting to know how Nancy had come to the decision to operate such an unusual business. It would, in fact, be interesting to know more about Nancy Shatner herself, the woman.

Tux went to the front window and stared at the shabby, empty building he’d leaned against across the street.

Surely Nancy didn’t live above Buttons and Beads, he thought. This was definitely not a neighborhood for a woman alone to take up residency. Not even close. It wasn’t that great a location to operate a business, but low rent had no doubt enticed Nancy to set up shop here.

Her reputation for having quality merchandise was obviously spreading, as evidenced by the arrival of Mrs. Megabucks from across town. He had to give Nancy credit for what she’d accomplished, that was for sure.

“There you are,” Nancy said, handing the woman a white bag. “Thank you so much. Your blouse is going to be beautiful. I tucked one of my catalogs into that bag so you can browse at your leisure, and I’ll put your name on my mailing list so you’ll be notified of special sales in the future.”

“Marvelous,” the woman said. “I’ll certainly tell all my friends about Buttons and Beads. Some won’t come into this section of town, so I’ll share the catalog, too. Goodbye for now.”

“Goodbye,” Nancy said, “and thank you again.”

The woman left the store, and Tux turned from the window to look at Nancy.

“You seem to have everything covered from A to Z,” he said. “I’m impressed, ma’am.”

“Thank you, sir.” She smiled as she dipped her head slightly. “What kind of work do you do?”

“I’m a private investigator,” Tux said, walking slowly back toward the bins.

“Really? I’ve never met a detective before. Were you a police officer?”

“No, I worked for the government until about a year or so ago.”

“Ah, I see. Then you were, no doubt, a secret agent of some kind.”

Tux frowned. “I didn’t say that.”

“It’s obvious. You worked for the government. If you’d been a mailman, or internal revenue clerk, or social security expert, you would have said so. Besides, secret agents who get tired of dashing all over the world are perfectly trained to become private investigators.” She shrugged. “That’s how it goes in the movies, and it makes sense to me.”

Tux chuckled. “You’re really something. You’re also right. I don’t announce that I was a government agent. People either start asking me questions about what they believe must have been an exciting life, or I make them nervous and they close up.” He paused. “Do I make you nervous, Nancy?” He looked directly into her dark eyes.

“No,” she said quietly.

Oh, Tux definitely had an unsettling effect on her, she admitted silently, but it had nothing to do with his former or present occupations. It was Tux Bishop, the man, who was throwing her off-kilter, causing funny flutters of heat to whisper throughout her. He was just so incredibly, blatantly male.

She lifted her chin a tad. “I believe that everyone should try to know who they are and discover what they want. Then they should move forward and go after their goal, their dreams and...”

Nancy’s voice trailed off and she averted her eyes from Tux’s.

“Whatever,” she finished saying after a moment. “I didn’t mean to get on a soapbox about it. Just erase all that. You didn’t ask for a sermonette.”

Tux looked at Nancy intently, suddenly wishing his powers... which were usually annoying...included the ability to peer into a person’s mind. To be more precise, into Nancy Shatner’s mind.

Who had tried to keep her from going after her goals, her dreams? he wondered. Her voice had rung with determination, conviction...and, yes, passion.

“If I’m nervous about anything,” Nancy said, “it’s your apparent reluctance to reveal to me what I was doing in the visions your friend had and what was happening to me. Is there some reason you don’t want to tell me what he saw?”

“Of course I’ll tell you, Nancy,” Tux said, “but I want to be certain you understand that this whole thing could be a false alarm.”

“Fine. Now explain my role in the scenario that your friend saw.”

“Yeah, well.” Tux began slowly. “I realize I’ve been postponing telling you, but I didn’t want to scare you. Nancy, my friend sensed danger during all three visions. When he could finally see you clearly, you had on the shawl, you were crying and holding out your arms as though pleading for help. He sensed you were frightened.”

“Oh, dear,” she whispered. She pressed trembling fingertips to her lips.

“I’m sorry,” Tux said miserably.

On impulse he strode past the end of the bins to where Nancy stood behind them, and wrapped his arms around her.

“I’m sorry I frightened you,” he repeated. “I feel so rotten about this, especially because I can’t explain why or how it happened. If I...we, my friend and I...could figure it out, it might help to ease your fears.”

Nancy encircled Tux’s waist with her arms and rested her head on the solid wall of his chest.

Oh, he felt so good, she thought. He was strong and powerful. Yes, she was determined to be independent, to take care of herself, answer to no one but herself, but, oh, God, this whole bizarre business was suddenly frightening.

Nancy sighed. It was a shuddering sigh and Tux tightened his hold on her, inhaling her delicate aroma of flowers. He hardly remembered moving to comfort her, his protective instincts having risen to the fore, but now he was very aware that she felt like heaven itself pressed close to his body.

He could feel her breasts, lush and full, against his chest. He could feel how delicate she was, like fine china. He could feel the tenseness caused by her fright slowly ebbing.

But then there was an even greater shift, change, as senses heightened, as the man totally reacted to the woman, the woman to the man. Heat began to build and chum in a body soft, a body hard. Heartbeats quickened.

The blue shawl, the threatening visions, the endless questions, were all forgotten.

Nancy lifted her head to meet Tux’s gaze, seeing the smoky hue of desire in his eyes, not caring if her own eyes revealed the same.

Tux covered her mouth with his, parting her lips, meeting her tongue. It was an explosion of sensation that rocketed through them like the licking flames of a roaring fire.

Hot.

Burning.

He deepened the kiss and passions soared.

Tux raised his head slightly to draw a rough breath, then slanted his mouth the other way as he claimed Nancy’s lips again, drinking of her taste like a thirsty man having found sweet nectar.

Oh, Tux, Nancy’s mind hummed. It was ecstasy. The feel, the aroma, the taste of this man was exquisite. Never, never before had she experienced such an incredible awareness of her own femininity compared to the blatant masculinity of a man, this man, Tux.

She was on fire, burning with the want of him. Her breasts ached with a tantalizing pain, yearning for the soothing touch of Tux’s hands. Deep and low within her, the heat pulsed, matching the rapid tempo of her heart.

She was being swept away on passion’s tide, and she gloried in it...

What on earth was she doing?

Nancy broke the kiss and moved her hands to press them flat on Tux’s chest, pushing him away, forcing him to release her. She took a quick step backward and willed her racing heart to still.

Tux frowned, shook his head once sharply, then took a raspy breath.

“Nancy?” he said, hearing the gritty quality of his voice.

“I...” She wrapped her hands around her elbows. “That shouldn’t have happened. I don’t do things like that. I don’t leap into the arms of a man I don’t even know. You must think I’m...” She lifted her chin. “Well, I’m not. Understand? I was upset, momentarily frightened by what you’ve been saying ever since you came in here.”

Tux nodded. “Oh.”

“Oh? Oh! That’s all you have to say?” she said, none too quietly.

“What do you want me to say?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she admitted shaking her head. “I’m totally mortified. I don’t wish to discuss what happened any further.”

“But I just thought of something I want to say.”

She glared at him. “Spare me.”

“Hang in there,” he said, smiling. “This won’t take long.” His smile faded and his expression became serious. “I just wanted to say that kissing you was sensational. You sent me up in flames, Nancy Shatner. I’m very attracted to you. You’re a beautiful, intelligent, passionate woman.”

“I am?” She blinked. “I am not! What I mean is, I...” She threw up her hands. “I don’t know what I mean. Okay, fine, you’ve had your say. The subject is closed.”

“For now.”

“Forever!”

“No way, but we won’t argue the point at the moment.” He paused. “Listen, like it or not we’re in a bit of a mess here.” He glanced at the blue shawl where it was still spread across the bins of beads, then looked at Nancy again. “The shawl didn’t disappear while we were kissing.” He stared up at the ceiling, then narrowed his eyes as he directed his attention to the shawl. “Let’s gather some data.”

Nancy flipped one hand breezily in the air. “Why not? Data is nice. Gather your little heart out.”

Tux shot her a dark look, then folded his arms over his chest.

“If I was going to rob this place,” he said, “what would I get, besides a life’s supply of buttons and beads?”

Nancy shrugged. “Nothing. The majority of my business is mail orders paid by check. The cash flow from walk-in customers is minimal. Tux, seriously, there’s nothing here worth stealing.”

“Is there a tenant living upstairs?”

“Yes. Me.”

He dropped his arms to plant his hands on his narrow hips.

“You’re joking. Right? You wouldn’t be dumb enough to live alone in this neighborhood. Right? If you do, I just may have to erase the adjective intelligent from my list describing you. Tell me you don’t live upstairs.”

“You’re pushing me, Mr. Bishop. This is my store.” She pointed to the ceiling. “Up there is my home. That’s not dumb, it’s sound economic reasoning. I’m a flight of stairs away from my store, which is handy, due to the fact that I can’t afford a car. Everything I need is within walking distance of here.”

“Including sleazes who would steal from their own grandmothers,” Tux said. “This is a high-crime district, lady.”

“This is where I live and work, mister. I’ve been here for nearly two years and I’ve never had one bit of trouble. We’re like a family on this block. We look after each other. No one else has been robbed, or whatever, since I’ve been here, either, because businesses in this area aren’t exactly Fortune 500 enterprises.”

“Okay, okay,” Tux conceded, raising both hands in a gesture of peace. “You’ve made your point. Do you own a gun?”

“No.”

“Dandy,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You don’t even have a way to protect yourself. Look, we’re not getting anywhere. I think what I should do is talk to someone who’s up on psychic powers, see if there’s a reasonable explanation for why my friend’s have suddenly gone berserk.”

“That makes sense. Maybe there’s nothing at all to worry about. Maybe Glenna bringing me the blue shawl was just a weird coincidence.” She shivered. “Oh, I hope so, I really do.”

Tux closed the distance between them and drew one thumb gently over her lips. Nancy shivered again, only this time it wasn’t from a sudden rush of fear. The feel of Tux’s callused thumb on the soft flesh of her lips had been a simple, quick gesture, yet it had instantaneously fanned the still glowing embers of desire within her into hot, leaping flames.

Tux’s friend had sensed she was in danger when he saw his visions? she thought. Tux, himself, was a source of danger to her ability to reason, think straight, behave in a manner she was accustomed to. Oh, yes, Tux Bishop was a very dangerous man.

“I’m sorry about all this, Nancy,” he said quietly. “I know I’ve frightened you, but we’ll get to the bottom of it. I’ll find out what I can, then report back to you.

“In the meantime, be very careful. Make certain you check the doors and windows at night, don’t go strolling outside after dark, things like that Do you have a telephone upstairs?”

“Yes, it rings up there and down here at the same time. I’ll give you one of my business cards with the number.” She hurried into the back room and returned to hand him the card, which he slipped into his shirt pocket.

“I’ll talk to you soon,” he said.

Nancy nodded.

Their eyes met. The sensual haze that had encased them during the kisses shared began to weave its invisible threads once again, over and around them.

The incredible awareness, the sensuous pull between them from the moment they’d seen each other was eerie, like nothing either of them had experienced before.

It was exciting, but unsettling.

It was confusing, yet intertwined with a calming rightness.

“No,” Nancy whispered, not realizing she’d spoken aloud.

“What are you doing to me, Nancy Shatner?” Tux said, his voice raspy.

“Nothing.” She took a step backward. “Nothing.”

“You look like a beautiful gypsy. Are you? A gypsy? Do you have powers, too, that you haven’t told me about?”

“No, of course not. Don’t be silly. I’m not a gypsy, I just happen to like to wear this style of clothes sometimes. I get them at Glenna’s store.”

“Then how do you explain whatever this is that keeps... crackling between us, keeps wrapping around us? I can’t find the right words to describe it, but I know you feel it as much as I do. How do you explain that?”

“It’s simply a result of the bizarre scenario we’re suddenly finding ourselves in,” she said. “What am I doing to you? If you’ll recall, Mr. Bishop, you came in here with your story of visions and danger, and a blue shawl. You started this whole... whatever it is.”

A slow smile began to form on Tux’s lips, a very male smile, that caused Nancy to take yet another step away from him.

“Well,” he replied, “I guess you’re right. I started it. The really interesting part will be to see where it all goes. Right, Nancy?”

She lifted her chin. “Goodbye, Tux. I have a great deal of work to do.”

He looked at her for another long moment, then nodded. “I’m off to find an expert on psychic powers. I’ll check with you later. Take care of yourself.”

Nancy watched as Tux strode from behind the bins to the door, then left the store. Only then did she realize she’d been holding her breath until he was gone, and drew in a gulp of much needed air.

“Oh, goodness,” she said, pressing her hands to her cheeks.

“What a morning. What a mess. I don’t believe this.” She turned, then frowned as her gaze fell on the blue shawl. “Yes, I do,” she added wearily.

She snatched up the lusciously soft shawl and stomped into the back room.

Late that afternoon, Tux sat in the living room of a seventy-two-year-old man, who looked remarkably like Santa Claus.

“I appreciate your listening to my story, Dr. Nixon,” Tux said. “As I explained, I spent most of the day on the telephone looking for help with this situation, and was told more than once that you were the best authority in the area on psychic powers.”

“Call me Jeremiah, son,” the man answered. “Well, you’ve brought me an interesting tale, that’s for sure. But in all my years of researching psychic phenomena, I’ve always had to admit the same conclusion...there are no hard-and-fast rules we can count on.”

Tux leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and lacing his fingers loosely together.

“Can you at least give me your opinion on what has happened?” he asked. “Why did I suddenly have visions predicting the future when I have never before had the power to do that? Even more, how do I know that what I saw will actually take place?”

“The blue shawl has already appeared, son.”

Tux slouched back in the chair. “I know.” He sighed and shook his head. “I hate this.”

Dr. Nixon chuckled. “A person wouldn’t need psychic powers to figure that out. You obviously like to be in control of your life, and at the moment you feel dictated to by outside forces.”

“Exactly. Not only that, there’s Nancy Shatner to consider. She’s in danger, or will be. But to what degree? I mean, maybe the fear I sensed, then saw on her face in the visions, was because a mouse ran across her floor.”

“Good point,” Jeremiah agreed, nodding. “It’s reasonable to me that your psychic ability took a side trip to an arena where it has never been, but due to your lack of experience, the danger that surrounds Nancy is not easily deciphered.”

“I hate this,” Tux repeated.

“Well, to be prudent, I’d suggest you assume the worst. Use the cliché of ‘better to be safe than sorry.’ You’d best watch over Nancy Shatner.”

“But for how long? In the first place, it’s difficult to continually remember when I’m talking to Nancy that I’m supposedly representing a friend of mine who has the powers, but I sure don’t want to tell Nancy the truth. She’s already used the word creepy in regard to this. I can live without that and the other adjectives she’d come up with. Secondly, I don’t know what the danger is, how serious it might be, or how ridiculous.”

“True. If she does see a mouse and gets hysterical, then that’s the end of the story. But you did say she works and lives in a high-crime neighborhood, so...” Dr. Nixon’s voice trailed off.

“Yeah, I hear you,” Tux said, frowning.

“Having listened to the details of your background, Tux, you’re more than capable of protecting Nancy.” He paused. “The lifelong researcher in me is fascinated by all of this. I’m just sorry I can’t give you concrete data as to why this happened. All I can offer you is my opinion.”

“Which is?”

“I believe that you and Nancy Shatner are connected in some way. The men of science would say that you two had an unexplainable link that enabled you to receive a message from Nancy that was based on events yet to happen.”

“Great,” Tux said dryly.

“However, there might be another theory coming from the romantics, those who speak more from their hearts than their minds.”

“Oh?”

“They’d be inclined to feel that you and Nancy are soul mates, found each other with thoughts before you actually met. She called out to you, you came. Destiny, son, destiny.”

“And you? What do you believe?”

Dr. Nixon smiled. “I believe I’ll be very eager to hear which theory proves to be true. You will keep me posted, won’t you?”

Tux got to his feet. “Yes, of course I will, providing I survive it all. I swear, I really—”

“Hate this,” Jeremiah concluded for him, laughing. “Tux, the data is crystal clear.”

Destiny.

When Dr. Nixon had explained the two approaches to viewing the situation, Tux had filed the information and not paid active attention to it.

But as he drove away from the old gentleman’s house, he realized he was actually hearing for the first time that portion of what had been said.

Destiny.

Destiny?

Ah, come on, give it a rest, Tux thought, with an impatient shake of his head. That really was the nonsense of romantics.

Soul mates.

He was chucking that one out the window, too. He and Nancy Shatner were not soul mates, not each other’s destiny. That was a bunch of hogwash. He and Nancy had connected by thought waves because they hadn’t yet met as they were destined to do? Ridiculous.

But...

Nancy had called out to him.

And he’d come.

She was in some kind of potential danger.

He fully intended to watch over and protect her until the source of that danger could be discovered and dealt with,

He’d been determined to locate the beautiful, gypsylike woman, who had pleaded for help in his visions.

And when he did find her, he’d kissed her.

Tux tightened his hold on the steering wheel and shifted slightly on the seat as heat coiled low and tight in his body from the remembrance of the kisses shared with Nancy.

She’d turned him inside out, that was for sure. He’d never been so instantly consumed by lust when kissing a woman.

“Wrong,” he said, smacking the steering wheel with the heel of his hand.

It hadn’t been just lust. What had swept throughout him like a hot, flaming rocket when he’d held Nancy in his arms, kissed her, savored the feel of her feminine, delicate body nestled against him, had not been just lust.

There had been a maze of indiscernible emotions tumbling through his mind as well. He’d recognized protectiveness and possessiveness, but the remainder were a tangled puzzle.

Protectiveness? That was easily explained. Nancy was in some kind of danger from an event yet to take place. It was perfectly natural for a decent, basically nice guy, to be determined to protect her from that danger lurking in future shadows.

Possessiveness? Well, that was reasonable, too. After all, he was the one who had been mentally informed of that danger, then delivered the news flash of its existence to Nancy. She was his for the duration of this dilemma; his to protect. His. Hence, the emotion of possessiveness.

Tux nodded decisively.

Destiny? Soul mates? Forget it. He was a realist, a man who operated with his feet firmly on the ground.

Logical thinking dictated that romantic-based psychic messages could only be received by someone who had a mind receptive to those kinds of thoughts, a place to receive them.

That wasn’t him, not by a long shot. Therefore, he was back to Dr. Nixon’s theory one, the scientific analysis. By some cosmic...or whatever...fluke, his brain waves had mistakenly connected with Nancy’s. It was like dialing the telephone and getting the wrong number.

There, he decided, he had at least some of this disaster figured out, and felt better for it. The fact remained though, that he was well and truly stuck with the situation itself, had to see it through to its proper end.

He’d protect Nancy Shatner.

Because, for now, she was his.

Fine.

Tux turned on the radio and began to sing along to a country-and-western song declaring that mamas shouldn’t let their babies grow up to be cowboys.

“Whoa,” he said suddenly, “I’m supposed to be at Mom and Dad’s house for dinner.”

He flicked on the blinker, changed lanes, and concentrated on the heavy traffic.

He totally ignored the whispering little voice in his mind that repeated one word over and over...destiny.

In her apartment above Buttons and Beads, Nancy set a salad and a plate of toast on the table next to a tall glass of iced tea. She sank wearily onto a wobbly wooden chair and sighed.

The remainder of the day after Tux had left the store had seemed like a never-going-to-end series of hours. She’d had difficulty concentrating, and had to continually recount piles of beads as she lost track of what number she was on.

Images of what had taken place with Tux Bishop kept flitting before her mind’s eye from every direction.

She saw him frowning, then smiling that sinfully lethal smile, saw desire in the mesmerizing depths of his incredible blue eyes.

She saw herself in his arms, responding to his kisses in total abandon, her behavior far removed from her normal conduct.

And she saw the bright blue shawl.

Nancy picked up a slice of toast, glared at it, then dropped it back onto the plate. She got to her feet and crossed the small room to look out the window, her gaze sweeping over as much of the block as she could see.

Was there really something, someone, out there intent on doing her harm? Was she in danger from a source unknown?

Oh, if only she could turn back the clock, erase the moment that Tux had opened the door and entered Buttons and Beads, and remove this nightmare from her life.

But if she had the power to do that, she would never have experienced the ecstasy of kissing Tux, being held by him, savoring the wonderful feel of his magnificent, strong body pressed against her.

“Nancy,” she said dismally, “you’re a befuddled mess.”

She continued to stare out the window, her hands wrapped around her elbows.

She was tired, confused and frightened.

Two tears slid down her pale cheeks.

And for the first time in a long while, she was very, very lonely.