Fannin's Flame Read Free Page A

quickly.
    “The Helga date. Remember? I promised to take her into Dallas.” Rattled by getting a callback from the agency so quickly, he’d forgotten about Helga. “What plans do you have tonight?” he asked his brothers.
    They shifted uncomfortably.
    “You know, since you’re plotting to get rid of her, this ought to make you feel better,” Fannin said. “Be nice to her before you boot her.”
    “You don’t like her, either,” Last said.
    “No,” Fannin agreed. “I don’t think that’s a reason to plot her unemployment, though.” He sighed. “However, I’m putting my vote in with this plan just because I do think she’d be happier taking care of a baby, the sheriff and Mimi than you ungrateful lot. Who’s going to tell Mason what you’re up to?”
    Archer stood. “You are?”
    “Me? Why would I? I didn’t hatch this scheme.” He wasn’t going to have any part of telling Mason that the one person who made him happy was going to have to find new digs next door.
    Crockett kicked back in the chair, balancing it on its legs. “If you want us to take Helga out tonight so that you can go wherever it is you’re going, we think it’s only fair you talk to Mason.”
    They had a point, even if it was blackmail. Fannin pursed his lips. The lady on the phone had sounded so sexy. Of course, that wasn’t his date, but if his date was anything like the bearer of that voice…his ears would be the happiest part of his body.
    At least until he could talk her out of her clothes.
    “Deal,” he said reluctantly. “You butt-heads.”
    The brothers slapped each other’s hands while Fannin looked on sourly.
    “Freedom, here we come!” Navarro yelled.
    “Ding-dong, the witch is dead!” Bandera howled.
    Annoyed, Fannin left the room, comforting himself with the thought that he’d soon be at Lampy’s Bar meeting his dream date. Picked just for him, by the sexy-sounding secretary.
    He just wished he didn’t feel like such a Judas.

Chapter Two
    If Kelly felt any remorse over deceiving Fannin Jefferson, it dissipated immediately when she saw the tall, lanky cowboy lounging against a lamppost outside Lampy’s Bar. “Mr. Jefferson?”
    He nodded, straightening to his full height, which Kelly was gratified to note was taller than her full height. She was no small, delicate thing, standing nearly six feet without the small, stacked heels on the winter boots she was wearing. “I’m Kelly Stone,” she said. “Your personal assistant.”
    She saw hesitation in his gaze—then realized that hesitation had turned to something else as he took her hand.
    “Hello,” he said, his voice deep and stirring. “Thanks for coming all the way out here.”
    Oh, she didn’t want to be attracted to him. But his hand warmed her chilled fingers and his voice settled her nerves. This big man carried security in every inch of his frame, and she responded to it like a lost calf.
    “I’m not the petite, cheery blonde you ordered. That was what you requested, wasn’t it?” Kelly asked, her words speeding as he let go of her hand.
    A grin spread across his face. “No. You’re not what I ordered. But I don’t think I knew what I wanted.”
    She stared at him. He was tall, dark, handsome. So cliché. Candy for females. Dark hair settled around his chin. Didn’t the man believe in haircuts? She couldn’t see whether he had a bald spot hiding under his hat, but she doubted it. The man had too much confidence to be hiding any flaws. His chin was firm and strong, his lips full and sensual. She liked his lips best, if she ignored that his chest was as wide as Ohio. His eyes were shaded enough by the hat so that he looked mysterious. Marlboro man come to life, except he stood in the misty night as if he’d never seen a woman as beautiful as she.
    Everything her mother had said about the wild Jefferson boys reverberated in her ears. Yet her body was responding in the strangest way to this man. Didn’t mother always know best?