Bride Of Dreams. Linda Wisdom Randall
for the actress,” Caroline said, going along with the script Anna was happily writing.
“Not in our show, dear. Tyler’s Own will be an Emmy-winning show,” she insisted. “That’s why we need you in a coma.”
“The coma might be a good idea, since it was strongly suggested I drop out of drama class in high school,” Caroline confessed.
“Honey, every woman has a bit of actress in her,” the older woman soothed. “That’s how we take those men and wind them around our fingers.”
“So that’s how it was done.” Johnny Kelsey walked out of the house and kissed his wife’s cheek. “Don’t listen to her, Caroline. If you want to catch a man, you need a man’s advice. So who are you plotting against? And does he have any idea his days are numbered?”
“No one,” Caroline firmly stated, at the same time Anna offered, “Cooper Night Hawk.”
Johnny raised an eyebrow. “Why don’t you just throw her to the wolves, Anna? Couldn’t you have started her out with someone easier?”
“You didn’t see the look Cooper gave her when he drove by a few minutes ago,” she replied.
“He was just being polite,” Caroline explained. “Nothing more.”
Anna smiled knowingly. “Yes, dear. And that’s why you’re blushing right now.”
Caroline pushed herself out of her chair and headed for the front door. “I am not blushing,” she declared haughtily as she made an escape worthy of a dramatic actress.
Husband and wife exchanged looks that said it all.
“You’re really going to try to match her up with Cooper?” he asked.
“I don’t think I’ll have anything to say about it. You know how romance works in this town. It’s all up to the quilting circle,” she answered, thinking of the brightly colored quilt that had been presented to them at their wedding, and since then had adorned their bed.
Johnny shook his head in fatalistic agreement. More than one single man cringed when they learned the Tyler Quilting Circle was beginning work on another quilt. Their success with the wedding quilts was the stuff legends were made of.
“God help them both.”
CAROLINE WAS INDULGING in her favorite form of relaxation: a bubble bath.
At the moment, she was the only boarder in the house, so she didn’t need to worry about anyone else needing the bathroom. She could take all the time she wanted.
She set her towel by the tub next to her CD player, stepped into the large, old-fashioned claw foot tub filled with hot water and floral-scented bubble bath, and slid down until her neck was resting against the edge of the tub, where she’d set a rolled-up towel. She turned on her CD player, slipped the headphones on and adjusted them to her ears.
Now she could truly relax. She closed her eyes, waiting for the music to flow through her body and complete the mood.
Except her body didn’t calm down. And her eyes refused to remain closed. If she didn’t know any different, she’d swear the music that usually soothed her now sounded downright annoying.
“Take deep calming breaths,” she directed herself. “Your body can’t relax if your mind won’t relax.”
Caroline wished her body would listen to her, but she could tell this time of relaxation wasn’t soothing her as it usually did.
But how could she, when Cooper Night Hawk was firmly planted in her thoughts?
Why now? She’d been waiting on him since that first day she worked at Marge’s. She’d even managed to serve him his breakfast without dropping it into his lap or scalding him with coffee.
From that first day she was aware of the intensity that surrounded him like a blanket. She didn’t need to see his badge to know he was in law enforcement. He had that air about him. He was a man dedicated to protecting the people.
She sensed a dedication like his would not hesitate in protecting the Spencer men from her if he felt she posed any kind of threat to them.
There was another, more elemental reason why he unnerved her; he was the most attractive man she’d ever met.
Coal-black hair pulled back and tied with a leather thong. Eyes so dark a brown they were almost black. Copper skin stretched tightly over a face that could have been carved from granite. And a body that could inspire many a fantasy.
Caroline recalled she and friends in high school reading popular historical romances where the hero was a Native American. They’d giggled over the descriptions of men she always thought came strictly from the author’s imagination. After meeting Cooper she was positive the books were nothing compared to the cold hard reality of the man.
“Caroline, dear, dinner in half an hour.” Anna’s voice filtered through the door.
“Thank you,” she called back. Instead of waiting another twenty minutes before climbing out of the tub, she leaned forward and pulled the plug. She grabbed her towel and wrapped it around herself as she stepped out.
So much for relaxation.
“THIS IS WHEN I HATE CARS,” Caroline muttered between clenched teeth as she turned the ignition key one more time. As before, the engine refused to turn over. She slapped the steering wheel with the flat of her hand as she leaned back in the seat.
It was clear she wouldn’t be going any farther. She grabbed her small backpack, which doubled as her purse, and climbed out of the car. After locking the door, she walked down the road in the direction of town. With luck, someone might drive by and pick her up.
Caroline hadn’t gotten far before she realized the sandals she’d put on that morning weren’t meant for walking along a dusty road covered with gravel. Not to mention it was starting to get dark, and sounds she hadn’t noticed before, coming from among the trees on either side of the road, seemed to grow louder.
“Lions and tigers and…” she whispered, looking left to right. She tried to pick up her pace, but the rocky road hampered her steps. “Oh, boy. Okay, no lions here. Wrong country. Tigers, no. Bears, could be. Bigfoot is in the Pacific Northwest. And I’m not.”
She stopped to empty pebbles from her sandal for what felt like the twentieth time. Her balance was precarious as she stood on one foot, slipped off one shoe and brushed off the dirt. She wobbled when a truck slowed down and stopped by her.
“I heard Californians liked to walk, but I thought you’d be wearing something a bit more…sporty,” Cooper said, eyeing her black tank top, which skimmed the waistline of her white-and-black-print capri pants molded to slim, tanned legs. Black thong sandals displayed feet gray from road dust. He could smell a light floral scent coming off her skin, sweeter than that of the colorful flowers growing alongside the road.
Caroline just stared at him. “You know, right now I would love nothing more than to come up with some witty little comeback, but I’m too tired to think of one,” she admitted. “My car died down the road.”
He leaned over and pushed open the passenger door. “Get in. I’ve got a tow hook in the back, so I can tow your car to the garage if it’s something that isn’t a quick fix, like a loose wire or you ran out of gas.”
“Unfortunately, I know from personal experience what happens when you run out of gas, and that wasn’t it. I have no idea about a dead battery.”
She climbed up into the cab and dropped onto the seat. She noticed the earthy aromas of horse and man mingling companionably in the small interior. Instead of his black deputy’s uniform, Cooper wore a denim shirt with the cuffs rolled back to reveal dark forearms, and jeans that had seen better days. His boots were scuffed and dusty. His aviator-style sunglasses hid the eyes she sensed never displayed any emotion. An equally battered hat perched low on his forehead.
He