Our Red Hot Romance Is Leaving Me Blue Read online

  “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.”

  Justin looked at him in amazement. To fake something as serious as cardiac arrest, to deliberately waste the time of emergency personnel who could be missing a legitimate cry for help was unthinkable in Justin’s world. “But J. P.—”

  “Did I drag you away from something important? A hot date maybe?”

  The question caught Justin off guard. “A hot date? Are you kidding?”

  “Oh, you can’t fool me, buddy. I saw you this afternoon at Mama Hayes’. Lunching with a total babe. Yessiree. If I dragged you away from her, I will never forgive myself.”

  “Well, no. I mean, yes, I was, but no, it wasn’t a date. We had a business arrangement tonight—” Justin stopped abruptly, not wanting to give John Patrick too much information just yet.

  “Business? Don’t tell me you hired a pro. Hell, Justin, you don’t have to pay for it. I can introduce you to some chicks who’ll give it away,”

  “It’s not like that,” Justin said crossly. Now he was losing his patience again. “Tell you what. You seem fine. I think I’ll just run along.”

  “No, not yet. Have a sandwich with me. See? Already got it made.”

  Justin had had enough of his brother-in-law. He tore a sheet of paper towel from a holder that sat on the counter. “I’ll just take it with me. Tell Felicia to get some rest and I’ll see her later.” He wrapped the sandwich in the paper towel and left through the front door.

  John Patrick walked outside behind Justin and watched as he climbed into his truck and drove away. Shit, he had hoped to keep him here a little longer. He shouldn’t have given up on his heart-attack farce so soon. Still, he had to grin. He had perhaps disrupted Justin’s evening. He had learned his meeting with the hot babe was business and not a date and he had escaped an evening with his in-laws. Not bad results for a plan thrown together hastily.

  seventeen

  Justin’s call re-scheduling their appointment had left Sophia feeling a letdown. With no séance to conduct, she had no need to rest and meditate, so it was lucky she had bought a magazine to read. She understood Justin’s explanation, though, and hoped his brother-in-law was doing well.

  All at once, a light supper of cheese and crackers and even the chocolate-covered cherries she had bought for dessert held much less appeal. Sitting in a club chair at the small round table in her hotel room, she sipped wine from one of the hotel’s tumblers. She picked another chocolate-covered cherry from its paper cup, popped it into her mouth and washed it down with a sip of wine.

  The white roses, sitting in the ice bucket filled with water, gave a false ambience of gaiety to the room. She had bought them for the séance because spirits were strongly drawn to white roses, along with soothing music and a candle’s flickering flame.

  Leaning over, she reached for another slice of cheese and a cracker, and in doing so slid out of her chair in one smooth move, depositing her bottom on the floor. Oh, goodness, was she tipsy?

  She hadn’t intended to be. She had wanted only to have a couple of glasses of wine with the cheese and crackers she had bought at Target. But being a nondrinker, she had underestimated her alcohol tolerance, and now, sitting on the floor, she announced to the room in a carefully measured voice, “I’m a towel blowing in the breeze.”

  Moving back to the chair, she picked up the bottle and poured herself another inch of the delicious beverage, “Or is it two towels floating in the breeze? No, that doesn’t sound right either.” Why couldn’t she think of that simple saying? She decided to call Debbie Sue and ask her the correct expression.

  She picked up the room phone and pressed for an outside line but instead of a dial tone, there was a hint of background noise.

  “Hello?” she said. “Is someone there?”

  Just as she started to hang up, a male voice said, “Sophia?”

  “Justin?”

  “You must have been calling out as I was calling in. Do I need to hang up and let you make your call?”

  “No, please don’t hang up.” She hoped he couldn’t tell from her speech that she had been drinking. She squared her shoulders and assumed an erect posture. “How is your brother-in-law?” she asked carefully.

  “He’s fine. It was a false alarm.” A small laugh followed.

  “Oh, thank goodness. I know you’re relieved. Why are you laughing?”

  “You sound a little like you’re three sheets to the wind.”

  “That’s it,” she said triumphantly. “Three sheets to the wind. I was just trying to think of that old saying.”

  Justin laughed again and she smiled. His laughter was warm, sweet and sexy. She wished she could see him laughing.

  “When did you start drinking?” he asked, amusement still sounding in his voice.

  “Only about a year ago,” she answered, “but just on special occasions.”

  He laughed louder this time. “No, I mean tonight. When did you start drinking tonight?”

  His laughter sent waves of warmth through her and she sat on the edge of the bed, envisioning his clear blue eyes lighting up with merriment. She tittered. “Oh. Sorry. After you called I decided to buy a nice bottle of wine, which isn’t like me at all. For some reason wine sounded good to go with the cheese and crackers I bought for supper.”

  “Cheese and crackers is your supper?”

  “Well, not yet it isn’t.”

  “So you haven’t eaten?”

  “Just
a few cradders and sheez.” Good lord, she had slurred her words again. “Pardon me, Justin, I meant crackers and cheese. I’ll probably go out and get something in a while.”

  “Don’t you dare,” he said, his tone now laced with concern. “You shouldn’t be driving. Look, I haven’t eaten either. How ’bout I come by and take you to dinner?”

  “Oooh, that would be so nice. Could I have a steak? I would really like a big juicy steak.”

  “You can have anything you want,” he said.

  “Super. How much time do I have before you get here? I need to put on a new face.”

  “About ten minutes,” he said, “but don’t do that. There’s nothing wrong with the face you’ve got.”

  Justin disconnected. Shit, he had done it again—made a comment about the way she looked. He couldn’t seem to talk to her without doing that. She must think he was just one more of the typical horny bastards that were bound to hit on her all the time.

  That thought didn’t set well with him. He didn’t want her to see him in that light. She was a nice person. Hell, he was a nice person, so why did he keep acting like an acne-faced teenager failing with lame attempts to win the heart of the popular cheerleader?

  Thinking of Sophia made him think of the séance. The subject of re-scheduling would surely surface over dinner. The sooner the mysterious occurrences in his home were explained, the sooner Sophia would return to El Paso. That thought didn’t set well with him either. How quickly she would be gone from his life was a sobering reality.

  He arrived at the hotel, pulled under the covered curbside parking, and called her again. “I’m here,” he said when she answered. “I’ll be waiting in the lobby. Don’t hurry, I’m a firefighter. We’re accustomed to sitting around waiting.”

  He went into the lobby and took a seat on a sofa near the elevator. He had barely opened a magazine before she appeared. He didn’t know if the wine or the quick trip to the lobby had given her complexion a flush, but she was radiant. She had changed into jeans and a white cotton blouse, the same thing half the women in the county wore, but on her it looked far better.