Macy had a surefire way to keep people from recognizing her in a small Texas town. “Don’t worry. I have the best disguise ever. I’ll use it tonight.”


* * *

Carter had showered and dressed in twenty minutes, then spent the rest of the time waiting for Macy in his office while going over the payroll accounts. He checked his watch just as his stomach complained. Macy was taking longer than the hour she’d asked for and patience wasn’t his best virtue, especially when he was hungry.

Carter got to thinking about his marine buddy, Roark Black, and wondered what the hell kind of trouble he was in. He hadn’t received another text from him yet, so yesterday Carter decided to text him to let him know he’d contacted Ann Richardson about the Gold Heart Statue. He’d kept his message vague, but it was enough to let Roark know he’d done what he’d asked. Whatever his friend was caught up in, he hoped to high heaven Roark would find his way out safely.

When Carter heard voices in the parlor, he rose from his desk abruptly. “Finally.”

He strode out of his office, his mind now on Pit’s Blue Plate Special, a slab of ribs coated with whiskey sauce, mashed potatoes and creamed corn along with the best darn buttermilk biscuits in the whole county. He could almost taste it already. When he reached the door to the great room, he stopped up short.

A woman dressed in a soft paisley blouse tucked into a tan skirt and tall leather boots stood speaking with his cousin Brady. The woman’s back was to him, but her long hair hung down her back straight and smooth, parted down the middle. The two were laughing, and Carter thought for a moment that he’d interrupted a private conversation.

What was Brady doing here?

His cousin hadn’t noticed him. His attention was focused solely on the woman.

Then Carter realized his mistake. That wasn’t just some woman. It was Macy. And she was having a grand time with Brady. The devil of it was that Brady was enjoying her attention, too much.

Carter’s gut clenched and emotion poured over him like hot oil. When Macy turned his way, she tilted her head slightly, acknowledging him. “Here’s Carter now.”

He blinked and shook his head. He couldn’t believe the transformation. Macy looked like an entirely different woman with stick-straight hair. Every curl was gone, replaced by a plank of black hair tied loosely with a band at her nape. She’d done something to her face, too, drowning out her natural color with makeup or something.

Brady shot him a grin, and Carter wasn’t proud of the jealousy bouncing around inside. He couldn’t forget the reason for Jocelyn’s rejection: she’d loved Brady and not him. And now, seeing Brady and Macy smiling together was like a shot through his heart. Shouldn’t be so. He didn’t have feelings for Macy.

But he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t attracted to her.

Kissing her had convinced him of that.

But jealousy?

“Brady, what are you doing here?”

Macy’s eyes went wide from his directness, but Brady took it in stride. “I’m on my way out of town. Thought I’d stop by to meet your houseguest. As you can see, Macy and I have already met.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Carter stepped farther into the room. “You had me fooled for a second,” he said to Macy. “I almost didn’t recognize you.”

She touched the hair at the base of her neck. “It’s my secret weapon. I can’t straighten my hair too often. People will catch on. But now seemed like the perfect time.”

She reached into her handbag and slipped on eyeglasses. “They’re magnifiers, so items might appear larger,” she said, darting a glance at both men, keeping her eyes above their waists, but the innuendo was there. Carter wasn’t sure if Macy was teasing or flirting. Or had it been an innocent comment?

Brady chuckled. “Wow, Macy. You’re a trip.”

Macy laughed with him. “I’m told.”

Carter’s lips tightened.

“Come on, Carter. You have to admit, no one will know it’s me.”

Carter stepped closer and took her arm gently. “I’m starving. Are you ready? Or do you have anything else to add to your disguise?”

“Not a one. I think this will do.”

“You two have fun.” Brady walked outside with them and bid them goodbye.

Carter silently cursed at himself for being a jerk to his cousin, but he couldn’t deny he had a protective streak when it came to Macy. But he was fighting other emotions, as well. He felt possessive of her, and seeing her with Brady just now nearly unraveled his good sense.

“He’s nice,” Macy said on the drive to the Bear Pit.

Carter turned to her. “He has his moments.” He didn’t want to spend the evening speaking about Brady’s virtues. He still couldn’t get over the way Macy looked. “It’s hard to believe you’re the same woman. You look like an Indian princess or something.”

“It’s the MAC makeup. It’s what actors use. I put a dull matte finish on my face, but the only problem I have is with my eyes.”

Carter couldn’t help admiring them. “Nothing wrong there. They are the damnedest shade of violet I’ve ever seen.”

“That’s the problem. They’re so unique, they can be a dead giveaway.”

“The eyeglasses help.”

“Let’s hope. I’m hungry for some ribs.” She rubbed her stomach, and Carter’s gaze drifted to her clothes. In those boots and Western gear, she would fit right in at the Bear Pit.

For some reason, that made Carter extremely happy.


* * *

The place was a honky-tonk to the tenth degree and Macy loved it, right down to the sawdust on the floor. A live band played George Strait, Tim McGraw and Trace Adkins songs on a small stage at the opposite end of the large restaurant. She sat in a red vinyl booth facing Carter and tapped her boots to the beat. She ate barbecue ribs with gusto, chucking aside rules of etiquette and femininity.

“I told you, didn’t I?” Carter said, wearing a satisfied grin. He was about as handsome as handsome gets, especially when those dimples appeared. Especially when his stomach was full of the Blue Plate Special and he was crowing about it.

“It’s delicious. Just like you said.” Macy finished half of her ribs and about the same of her mashed potatoes. She’d eaten one biscuit she swore was the size of a baseball. “I’m so full, I couldn’t-”

The waitress slid a seven-layer chocolate cake in the middle of the table. “Bear’s Bake, just as you ordered, Carter.”

It was the biggest slice of cake Macy had ever seen.

Carter sent the waitress a smile and a wink. “Thanks, Jody.”

The blonde woman’s gaze stayed glued to him. She ignored Macy as if she wasn’t sitting across from him. Normally, she would be relieved to go unnoticed, but her behavior bordered on insulting. “Haven’t seen you here in a long while.”

“Too long,” Carter said. “I won’t let that happen again.”

“See that you don’t.” Finally, she gave Macy a cursory glance, then shot Carter a sweet look. “This one doesn’t mind getting her hands dirty. Or her clothes. I like that.”

Carter had a belly laugh over that, and the waitress took off.

“What?” Macy didn’t like being the butt of a private joke.

Carter didn’t say a word, but a quick glimpse to her chest had her looking down.

A loud gasp escaped when she spotted a big round barbecue stain on her paisley blouse. “Oh no!” Some of the greasy sauce had also dripped onto her chest, right between her breasts.

“Just sit tight,” Carter said. He moistened a napkin and leaned way over the table to dab at her blouse. He was close, taking his time with the scrubbing. His face came inches from hers, and she breathed in his lime aftershave. It was intimate, how he was touching her, and goose bumps erupted on her arms. Then he moved his attention to her chest, and her skin prickled underneath the napkin as he gently stroked her. She drew a deep breath, which managed to fill out her chest. He stared at the stain for a moment then lifted his face a fraction, his eyes blazing hot as he looked at her. He took a hard swallow. There was a flash of awareness, a hunger that had nothing to do with food. They stared at each other a long moment.

“Can’t get it all off,” he said quietly.

“Not for lack of trying,” she whispered.

His eyes roved over her breasts with unabashed admiration. “It wasn’t a hardship.”

Her words slipped out, countering his attention. “For me, either.”

The band played a slow ballad, and Carter rose from his seat. He came to stand beside her at the table, and she faced his outstretched hand. “Dance with me?”

She was a mess of whiskey-sauce stains, but it wasn’t enough to stop her from dancing with Carter McCay. She slipped her hand in his and followed him toward the music. Once on the saw-dusted wooden dance floor, he turned to face her, his eyes heavy lidded as he drew her against him. He curved his arms around her waist and she clung to his neck.

They began moving, gently rocking to the rhythm. There were ten other couples slow dancing. “I like this song,” Carter whispered in her ear.

Macy laid her head on his chest. “Hmm. I think it’s my favorite, too.” It wasn’t a lie. It was going to be her favorite from now on.

Carter moved with grace, swaying back and forth in tune to the rhythm of the music, and Macy followed easily, her boots gliding across the floor. She wished she could bottle this moment and pretend they were in a cocoon of time, where nothing and no one could interrupt them. She would get lost, never wanting to be found.

“Truth is, Hollywood,” he said in a low rasp, his breath warm against her throat, “I don’t dance much.”

“You’re doing fine.”

“Maybe I just wanted to hold you.”

“I won’t complain.”

“You’re easy to be with.”