Our Red Hot Romance Is Leaving Me Blue (16 page)

Was Justin set to spend Saturday night with a total babe who had an ulterior motive? He would see what he could do to alter that situation. An unexpected visit from the dead wife’s brother should throw cold water on anything hot.

A
nd I told him we’d pick them up at six. Is that okay?”

John Patrick didn’t know what made him look up—the sudden silence in his wife’s constant yakking or the pregnant pause heavy with anticipation. “What?” he asked her. “What did you say?”

“I said, silly, that I told Mama and Daddy we’d pick them up at six.”

“Tonight?”

“Well, yes, pumpkin.” John Patrick heard exasperation creeping into Felicia’s tone. “The Cattlemen’s Auction has been the third Saturday in June for the past twenty-five years, J. P., and that’s tonight.”

She came to his side and stroked what was left of his hair,
her touch making him cringe. He supposed she was indebted to him for marrying her. God knew no one else would have stepped up for that torture. Anyone who thought looks didn’t matter when the lights were out hadn’t been in John Patrick Daly’s shoes.

“You know Mama and Daddy don’t drive anymore,” she said. “Besides, your SUV will have room for the painting.”

“What painting?”

“John Patrick.” She planted her fists on her hips and stamped her foot, “you didn’t hear a word I said. Daddy is donating one of his G. Harvey paintings to the auction. ‘Rawhide and Thunder.’ He wants you to show it.”

John Patrick knew the artwork well. Since it was large, when he carried it out and held it up in front of the well-heeled bidders, only his boots would be visible, if that. He would look comical, which is exactly what his father-in-law, Boots Carlisle, was counting on. Another opportunity for the man to poke fun at the small stature of his son-in-law.

John Patrick bit down on his lower lip. He had been married into the Carlisle family long enough to know how to play this game. He wouldn’t put up an obvious fight. The best defense was to appear dumb.

“Me? Can’t he get someone else to do that?”

“Daddy’s counting on you doing it,” Felicia whined.

“Yes,” John Patrick answered dully, “I’m sure he is.”

As early evening came, Debbie Sue pulled herself away from assisting Buddy with the construction of the deck. “We
should call it a day so I can go inside and shower. I need to be at Justin’s house by seven.”

All afternoon, Debbie Sue had allowed Buddy to delegate menial chores to her, such as handing items to him, holding the end of a tape measure and plugging in various electric tools.

Buddy began arranging his tools neatly on one side of the deck. “Thanks for your help today, Flash. It’s nice having you here helping me. Anything I can help you with in the shower? Hand you the soap or wash something you can’t reach?” He gave her a devilish grin.

She freed her long hair from the scrunchie holding it in a ponytail out of her way. “Hmm. Now that’s a great idea. You could bring the measuring tape with you. I think I could find a use for that.”

Buddy chuckled. “You think you’re kidding, but I’m right behind you.”

She returned his devilish grin. “Oh, yeah?”

He put both hands on her shoulders and pushed her along, following her into the house. They were already stripping as they crossed the bedroom on the way to the bathroom. Her cell phone blasted “The Eyes of Texas” from her purse, which sat on the bed. She grabbed for the purse and pawed inside it for the phone.

“Let it go to message,” Buddy said, dropping to the edge of the mattress and prying off his boots.

“I’d better get it in case it’s not a telemarketer. It could be Justin. Or Sophia.” She flipped open the phone and an
swered brusquely, hoping to send the caller a message that she was in the middle of something.

“Debbie Sue?”

Oops
. Not a telemarketer. “Justin. Hey, what’s up?” His tone sounded different. She felt her brow tug into a frown.

“It’s John Patrick, my brother-in-law. His wife called me. She thinks he’s having a heart attack. She’s called for an ambulance.”

“Holy cow, Justin. I didn’t realize your brother-in-law had heart disease.”

“Neither did I. I thought he was healthy as a horse. Hell, he’s young.”

“Well you get on over there. I’ll call everyone who’s supposed to show up for the séance and tell them what’s happened. We’ll just re-schedule. Hope everything turns out all right. You’ll let me know, won’t you?”

“Sure thing, and uh…uh, you know, Debbie Sue, I really think I should be the one to call Sophia and postpone. I’ll do it as soon as everything settles down.”

That stopped Debbie Sue for a few seconds before she realized Justin
wanted
to call Sophia and needed an excuse. She smiled into the receiver. “Oh, you’re right. You should be the one to call her. Good luck, Justin, Hope all goes well. Drive careful, you hear?”

She hung up and turned to a naked Buddy, stopping to admire his masculine glory. “How’d you get undressed so fast?”

“What’s happened?” he asked.

Debbie Sue plopped onto the bed and tugged her own boots off.

“The séance is off. Justin’s brother-in-law’s had a heart attack.”

“That’s too bad.” Buddy pulled her to her feet and pushed her tank top up. She yanked it off and shook her hair free. It fell over her shoulders and past the middle of her back.

“God, I love your hair,” he said huskily. He buried his hands in it and his mouth covered hers in a tongue-dueling kiss. He stopped for a breath. “I love more than your hair. I love all of you.”

“Me too,” she squeaked. She loved every inch of Buddy’s body and every minute she spent in his arms.

He reached behind her and unhooked her bra, letting it fall to the floor as he nuzzled her neck. “Who’s his brother-in-law?” he mumbled.

“Brother-in-law?”

“Hm.” His mouth moved down to her breast and he caught her nipple between his lips.

“Damn, Buddy. You are so evil. You know what that does to me. John Patrick Somebody. Hmmm. That feels soo good.”

“John Patrick Daly?” Buddy stopped and straightened, surprise registering in his expression.

Debbie Sue had momentarily forgotten that her husband seemed to know, or know of, absolutely every living person, and a few dead ones, in West Texas. She recognized the scowl of aversion on his face. Since he rarely spoke a harsh word
against another person, she had to rely on his body language if she wanted to know his negative opinion of someone. Either that or nag him or seduce him until he let something slip. “Do you know him?” She unzipped her tight jeans, wriggled out of them and kicked them away.

“Wow,” Buddy said, his gaze raking over her appreciatively. She was wearing red bikini panties today. His hands slid beneath the waistband, he pulled her against him and kissed her as he pushed the panties past her bottom. They fell down around her ankles. “Step out,” he said, bending and freeing her foot from the panties. “I wrote a couple of tickets on him when I was a trooper.”

Debbie Sue could scarcely think. All she could do was anticipate. “Who?”

“John Patrick Daly.” Buddy led her into the bathroom, reached into the tub enclosure and turned on the water.

Uh-oh
. There was more. A couple of traffic tickets wouldn’t elicit a scowl from a seasoned cop like Buddy Overstreet, especially during a heated session of lovemaking. “Aww, come on,” she purred. She walked her fingers up his broad chest. “You must know something else. This could be important to my case.”

He urged her into the shower and stepped in behind her. “I don’t see how. It’s only my opinion. Nothing factual or source driven.”

“Factual or source driven,” she mimicked, as warm water sluiced over their bodies. She picked up the soap bar and began to lather his chest and shoulders. The fragrance of clean lavender filled the small space. “Buddy, you can read
people better than anyone I know. Even your Ranger buddies have said so. You’ve got the instinct of a bloodhound, is what Cal Jensen said.”

Buddy chuckled, took the soap from her and began to lather her back and bottom. He gave up on the soap, clutched her bottom, pulled her pelvis against his, lowered his head and kissed her madly. When he lifted his mouth from hers, he said, “In that case, maybe I should be the one conducting a séance.”

“You devil,” she said softly, looking into his beautiful chocolate-colored eyes and wriggling against his erection.

“We really don’t have to discuss it right now.”

He picked up her hand, turned it palm up and spoke in a sexy, soft voice while he traced a line with his finger. “Ahh, I see much happiness in your future, in about twenty minutes, to be exact.”

“Twenty? That long?”

He dropped her hand and began to stroke all of her secret places.

She sighed, letting her questions go away. But only for the moment. She had to know what Buddy wasn’t telling her about Justin’s brother-in-law all right. But she could wait twenty minutes, until his prophesy for her had come true.

Justin was within half a mile of John Patrick’s mini-mansion when he saw the ambulance running cold and it appeared to be moving slower than he was. No need for lights or speed if the patient was dead. His pulse quickened and a sick feeling washed through him.

He stopped, scooted out of his truck and stood on the running board to draw attention. He knew most of the EMS crew personally and he was relieved to see two familiar faces through the windshield.

The driver, Mark Aiken, brought the ambulance to a stop and lowered his window. “He’s okay, Justin. He’s up at the house. You might want to go on up and see if you can help the wife. She’s in worse shape than J. P.”

Justin didn’t doubt that. Felicia worshipped the ground John Patrick walked on. “Thanks, I will. Was it his heart?”

“Not that we could tell. We followed routine procedure, checking everything out and he appears to be fine. He decided it had to be heartburn. We tried to take him to the ER, but he wouldn’t go. He signed a release, so that’s it for us.”

The second EMT, Vanessa Singletary, leaned across from her seat and joined the conversation. “He can’t be too bad off. He felt well enough to make a pass at me.”

Justin shook his head. “In front of Felicia?”

Mark gave a halfhearted laugh. “Like I said, she’s in worse shape than he is. I doubt she even noticed.”

“Listen, thanks to both of you,” Justin said sincerely. “You know how much I appreciate all you do,”

“We know
you
do,” Mark said. “See you later, guy.”

Justin watched the ambulance move away. He didn’t have to ponder the emphasis Mark had put on the word
you
. No doubt John Patrick had been an ass. Justin had seen him in that role many times. Now he wished he hadn’t called Sophia and canceled the evening. She had been kind and concerned, but he had detected disappointment in her voice.
Undoubtedly a séance was her big moment. But it was more than that—it was her chance to earn three thousand dollars.

In a way, Justin understood. Even preparing to fight something as simple as a grass fire brought on a heightened awareness. If you were somebody who talked to ghosts, he supposed the same adrenaline high accompanied a prospective encounter. Then, if it didn’t happen, just like with a fire, a physical and emotional letdown followed.

As he parked in front of the Daly home, John Patrick came out and stood on the front steps, grinning ear to ear as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

Justin scooted out of his truck. “Hey man, what’s up? You okay?” He looked carefully at the shorter man for any telltale signs of distress.

“I’m fine. Guess I overreacted. I promised those EMT guys I’d see my doctor Monday. Come on in. Had supper yet?”

“Where’s Felicia?”

“She’s in the bedroom lying down. The maid’s with her. C’mon, let’s see what’s in the fridge.”

“Mind if I check on Felicia first?”

“Sure, go ahead. I’ll see what I can scrounge up in the kitchen.

Justin crossed the tiled foyer to the hallway. His feet sank into plush carpet as he walked the wide hallway that was lined with western art, highlighted by recessed lighting. He didn’t even want to think about the amount of money hanging within arm’s reach.

The French doors that led in to the master suite were partially open and he saw the figure of a woman lying supine on
top of the bed cover, covered by a throw. A Mexican woman sat in a nearby chair.

“Felicia?” Justin said softly. “It’s me, Justin. You okay?”

His sister-in-law lifted her head from the pillow and looked at him with eyes swollen from crying. “Justin. Thank you so much for coming. J. P. insisted I call you. Did you see him? Did he look all right to you?”

Justin walked closer and took her hand, making soothing sounds, but his thoughts were churning. “Yes, yes. He seems to be fine.”

“The way he was gasping for air, then falling to one knee—” She burst into tears, but regained control. “I thought I was losing him for sure.”

Something wasn’t right. John Patrick had dismissed his problem as a simple case of heartburn. Justin wasn’t a man given to high drama or hysteria, but what Felicia had described sounded serious. The EMTs who answered the 911 call were two of the best, yet they had showed no concern. Justin wasn’t comfortable dismissing the incident without looking into it further.

The only way to know answers was to ask questions. And that was just what he intended to do.

Patting her hand, he told her to rest well and left to find his brother-in-law. He was just where he had said he would be: the kitchen. He had laid four slices of bread on the counter and was heaping layers of cold cuts and cheese and blobs of mayonnaise onto each. Not exactly what someone with a possible heart attack or even heartburn should be eating.

“J. P., what’s going on? Felicia’s half out of her mind with worry and you’re building a hero sandwich?”

J. P. gestured with a flip of his hand. “She tries to make a big deal out of everything. I’m fine.” He sliced the sandwiches into halves with a big knife.

“She said you were gasping for air, even falling to one knee. Is that true?” Justin watched his brother-in-law closely. The guy had a guilty look on his face and he didn’t answer immediately. “Well? Is it?”

“Okay, I played it up a little,” John Patrick admitted. “She had volunteered me for some damned function with her mommy and daddy and I just didn’t want to go.”