Merry Christmas, Cowboy Page 8

  “Oh. Okay.”

  “Anyway, I got through the night. That house was built to withstand bad weather.”

  “You should have called me.” She went into the kitchen and got busy with the coffee preparation.

  “You were at work. It wasn’t exactly an emergency.”

  “So tell me how it happened.” The energizing smell of brewing coffee filled the small apartment.

  Zach stood in the doorway of her small kitchen, bracing his arms against the sides. His jaw showed stubble that was lighter than his hair but not by much. It looked good on him.

  “Chuck left me the keys and I did the walkthrough. I locked up and went into the parking lot. The truck was stone-cold dead and it was late, so I decided to go back, stay there, and not bother anyone.”

  “How was it with no one there but you? And what do you take in your coffee?”

  “Sugar and milk.”

  She added both to his mug and handed it over.

  Zach took a big sip. “This hits the spot. I’m still cold. If you really want to know, it was kinda fun and kinda creepy. Especially the new display. You don’t want to be in the Land of a Thousand Santas with just a flashlight and all those twinkling eyes.”

  She still hadn’t seen that installation. “Didn’t they put a bed in there?” she asked. “I thought I saw the guys lugging one when I was at the front table.”

  “That was a padded sleigh,” he informed her. “I tested it. I couldn’t stretch my legs out, so I went up to the attic.”

  “Ohh. I did a drive-by with my partner after midnight,” Paula said. “I saw the lamp up there. It was on for just a second or two.”

  “That was me,” Zach said. “I had it on just long enough to put my phone where I could find it again and take off my boots. Then I jumped under the covers. Plenty of ’em. But I still couldn’t get warm.”

  She was unsettled by the thought of him in the bed in the room where he had kissed her hard and well.

  He finished his coffee and handed her the mug for a refill.

  “You should have come up,” he joked.

  “Because I saw a light in the window? I had no idea it was you. I thought it was a reflection.”

  “Just kidding.” He eased his muscular frame into a spindly kitchen chair that creaked under him. Zach turned his head to look at what he could see of the chair. “This needs fixing.”

  “It’s always been like that,” Paula said quickly. It was tough enough having to watch his hands when he did woodworking jobs at the Christmas House. He wasn’t going to do it here. She changed the subject. “You sure it wasn’t the thermostat? The boiler is ancient.”

  “Six of one, half dozen of the other. Eventually it came back on. But the radiators were banging.”

  “At least the pipes won’t freeze.”

  “I don’t think so.” He leaned back, slouching comfortably but still sitting tall. “So let’s talk. Sounds like Brandon got into a little trouble. He told me as much. He had a one-day suspension today.”

  Paula looked at him over the rim of her coffee mug. “I will never understand why schools punish cutting class with a day off. I guess you know what he did. And that he brought an unauthorized visitor to the Christmas House.”

  “He said she was pretty.”

  “Maybe so, in a way,” Paula conceded. “But she was also spoiled rotten. And rude.”

  “He told me that too.”

  “Is he feeling guilty? Good,” Paula said.

  “He might be,” Zach replied. “Then again, maybe not. I don’t think teenagers know what the hell they’re doing half the time. I didn’t when I was that age.”

  She looked him over. He didn’t seem inclined to fill her in on his wild past, if he’d had one. Paula let it go.

  “I couldn’t believe he got mixed up with someone like that,” she said. “Miss Tabby Cat, as she calls herself, was a piece of work.”

  Zach nodded. “Apparently Brandon knew next to nothing about her.”

  “So I gathered. But it didn’t stop him, did it? He’d better not try that again with some other girl, even a nice one. The House isn’t his personal party pad.”

  “I think you got that across loud and clear,” Zach said calmly.

  Paula narrowed her eyes at him. “This is a switch. I used to feel like I had to defend him to you. Now it’s the other way around.”

  Zach studied her for a long minute. “I honestly don’t think you were that bothered by the girl or by him playing hooky. What’s on your mind?”

  Paula put her coffee mug in the sink and gave the faucet a swift turn to fill the mug with water. “Nothing worth talking about.”

  Zach got up and put his mug next to hers. “Maybe not today. But he’ll be at the Christmas House after school tomorrow.”

  “He didn’t happen to say anything about his dad, did he?” Paula asked. The question slipped out before she really thought about it.

  “Nope. Edith did, though. But to Brandon, not me. She didn’t know I was listening, not that I meant to.”

  “Me neither,” Paula said.

  “ ‘Don’t you dare go looking for him’ is what she said. From what you told me, I could figure out the rest. She sounded really angry.”

  He’d made a shrewd guess—or maybe Brandon had confided in Zach and sworn him to secrecy. Paula washed both mugs and turned them upside down in the dish drainer. “She was talking about his father. Count on it.”

  Zach shrugged his big shoulders. “Guess so. I try to stay out of other people’s family quarrels.” He chucked her under the chin when she turned around to face him. “And I think you should do the same.”

  Paula pushed his hand away. Random smooching didn’t entitle him to hand out unsolicited advice. When it came right down to it, she’d never liked any kind of advice.

  “I’ve known Brandon and Edith a lot longer than you have, Zach.”

  He gave her a long look that she couldn’t really read. She couldn’t tell if her action had bothered him.

  “I understand.”

  “Do you?” She picked up a dishtowel and started wiping down counters that didn’t need wiping.

  He didn’t say anything more on that subject. Paula stopped what she was doing and faced him with her hands on her hips.

  “Zach, you’d better go. See you at the House, okay? I need to take a shower.”

  He didn’t budge. She flicked the towel in his direction and he grabbed the corner of it. He used it to pull her to him when she wouldn’t let go. His intense blue gaze moved over her face, stopping on her mouth for a second, then up to her eyes.

  “Spare me the sexy stare,” she said tightly.

  He only smiled.

  “Quit it. I can’t think straight when you get too close to me.” Paula dropped the towel. “And I don’t want to play tug-of-war. Now go.”

  “In a minute. I have something for you.”

  “What?”

  He slipped a hand into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a square envelope made of cream-colored paper. “Your invitation to the benefit dance,” he said as he handed it over. “The board of directors wants us volunteers to mingle with Denver society. I’d love to take you.”

  Paula shot him a wary look and opened the envelope without saying yes or no.

  “The Grand Ballroom at the Miner Hotel? That’s a historical landmark. I didn’t even know it was open.”

  “It is. And recently restored to its former splendor,” Zach informed her. “They rent out the main floor for events. But it’s not operating as a hotel.”

  “Oh. We went there on a field trip when I was in elementary school,” Paula said, forgetting her irritation. “I think I saw that ballroom. It had peeling red velvet wallpaper and giant moose heads. I remember the glass eyes. I thought they were looking at me.”

  “Maybe the décor has improved.”

  “Let’s hope so.” She looked at the invitation again. “Eight p.m. Next Saturday. I guess I have to be there.”
>
  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “I’m thinking about it. What’s the dress code? It doesn’t say.”

  Zach looked over the top of the invitation and pointed to the line that said Frontier Formal.

  Paula made a wry face. “What does that mean?”

  “Call Edith. If it’s Western and it’s historic, she’s on it.”

  Paula rolled her eyes. “True enough.”

  “So will you go with me?”

  Zach seemed about to smile again. He was so damn sure of himself. But that smile of his made her feel good all over, even when she wasn’t in the best of moods. It wasn’t his fault she’d slept sitting up. Paula gave in.

  “Okay. I guess so.”

  “Excellent. Then it’s a date. Our second. I’ll polish my spurs.”

  Paula took a magnet from the fridge and stuck the invitation under it. “Don’t get carried away, cowboy,” she said. “I don’t even own a dress.”

  Edith found that out soon enough. She’d bustled Paula out the door of the Christmas House to go buy one without letting her take off her coat.

  Now here she was in a dressing room at Denver’s finest department store, surrounded by dresses and long gowns, none of which fit right or looked good.

  “How are you doing in there?” asked a cheerful sales associate on the other side of the door.

  Clad in bra and panties and thick, baggy wool socks, Paula cracked open the half door. “Not too good. You can take all these back.”

  “Want me to bring more? I know your size by now.”

  It had been over an hour. “I don’t know. What’s left on the racks? I think I tried on everything.”

  “Oh, lots of things. Don’t you worry. I’ll look in the back.”

  Paula handed over the dresses, doing her best not to drag the long gowns on the carpeted floor. “Sorry to waste your time.”

  “Not at all. My goodness, some of our customers take much longer than you and never buy anything.”

  The sales associate slung everything over her shoulder and clutched the hangers, trotting away.

  Paula sat down on the tiny chair to await her return. She didn’t look in the mirror.

  She hadn’t had the chance to dry and style her hair after her shower, and getting stuffed into a knit cap hadn’t done much for it. It hung in damp waves around her face.

  She dug in her purse for her cell phone for something to do. There was a text from Edith.

  Find anything purty?

  Paula put the phone back without replying. There was a rustling sound that made her look toward the door and then under it. A drift of gorgeous sparkly material was going by in the dressing room corridor.

  “Isn’t this fabulous?” someone outside said, apparently to a friend. “I wanted to get a look in the three-way mirror.” Paula heard a whoosh as the woman twirled around. “Oh, my God. I never saw anything so beautiful. I’m buying it. I don’t care how much it costs.”

  “It’s an investment,” the friend said.

  Paula was tempted to peek out. But no one had asked for her two cents.

  “Do you think I can get heels to match?”

  “If not, you could have satin ones dyed.”

  Paula hadn’t even thought about high heels. She did have a couple of old pairs in her closet from her two stints as a bridesmaid. The silly dresses she’d given away to charity. She looked down at her baggy socks.

  Frontier Formal. Maybe she could get away with cowboy boots, if she could find pretty ones. Of course, those would cost a fortune too.

  A light rap on the door snapped her out of it. “Miss? I found a navy blue gown that would be nice with your auburn hair.”

  Paula’s heart sank. “Ah . . . that’s the color of my uniform. I’m a cop.”

  The sales associate seemed undaunted. “Really? I never would have guessed. It comes in other colors.” Her feet stayed planted. She wasn’t going away.

  Paula opened the door and looked at the dress. The style was nice. “I’ll try it on.”

  She took the dress and stepped back inside. Paula hung it up on a hook and looked it over. Cut low, it draped into curves, even on the hanger. She unfastened the side zipper and pulled the dress over her head, tugging it down over her hips. It fell into soft folds around her ankles and clung everywhere else.

  Paula faced the mirror. She had never looked so glamorous. She looked at the price tag and gulped. No way. Not in navy.

  The sales associate’s feet were still on the other side of the door.

  “What other colors does this come in?”

  “Lime green. And wine.”

  Paula smoothed her hands over her hips and turned to look at herself from the side. The navy was elegant but it still reminded her of her uniform.

  “I’ll try the wine.”

  “Okay.”

  In another half hour, she was handing over a credit card at the register. It was a lot to spend for a dress she would wear for only one night, but as the other woman had said, it was an investment.

  In what, Paula didn’t know. But she needed a reason.

  “Our shoe section is on this floor, you know,” the sales associate said, handing over the charge slip for Paula to sign.

  “Very convenient,” Paula said, scribbling her name with a wild flourish. “I do need heels to match.”

  The sales associate boxed the dress in tissue and slipped it into one of the store’s handsome shopping bags. Paula took the handles and heaved a sigh that was half happiness and half relief. That hadn’t been so hard.

  Chapter 8

  Paula spent the early part of Saturday evening fussing with her hair to save the expense of going to a salon, figuring if she didn’t like the results, she could soak her head, get out the hairdryer, and start over. But big rollers produced the waves she needed to experiment with a few different styles.

  The classic wine-colored gown could be a turn-of-the-century look with the right hairdo and jewelry. Her grandma’s jet necklace and earrings, which Hildy had inherited from her grandmother, would be perfect.

  She gathered up her auburn hair and pinned it into a Gibson-girl knot on the top of her head. Not bad, she thought. The updo certainly showed off her neck. Then she pulled out the hairpins and let the waves tumble over her bare shoulders.

  The look would suit a frontier bad girl, but she liked it. Zach was sure to. Ultimately, Paula decided on a combination of the two styles: a soft knot with a few strands left free.

  She did her eye makeup first, not all that sure of herself. But she had time. Mascara and liner worked magic. She grinned at herself, pleased with the sultry look she achieved.

  Paula went to get the dress. Just slipping into something so expensive and well made was a sensual pleasure. She padded barefoot to her dresser, enjoying the way the material rustled faintly over the floor.

  The box with the antique jet jewelry was in the top drawer. She brought it back to the mirror. Once her hair was up, she put on the necklace, something she had never worn. The sparkling beads were fashioned in a complex design, finished with a jet pendant that rested just above her cleavage.

  The effect of the delicate black necklace against her creamy skin was startlingly sexy. The ladies of long ago definitely understood the art of allure.

  Earrings next. The long drops trembled when she tossed her head.

  Paula adjusted the bodice of the gown, revealing more of her shoulders, and turned sideways to gaze into the mirror. It was nice to be a woman for a change and not a buttoned-up cop. She batted her eyelashes at herself and almost laughed out loud.

  If Grandma Hildy could see her now, she’d be amazed. Paula had always been a tomboy. But dressing like this was seriously fun.

  She glanced at the clock. Zach would be here soon. It was time to practice walking in high heels. She looked at the floor of her apartment. Between her clothes and her cop gear, there was an obstacle course.

  Paula slipped on the wine-colored high heels, another
extravagance, and swanned around. Wonder of wonders, the shoes didn’t pinch and didn’t make her walk funny.

  Her cell phone rang. Paula grabbed it.

  “You ready?” Zach’s warm voice did something to her.

  “Yes.”

  “Then I’m coming up.”

  She picked up the clothes and other things on the floor in record time, stuffing it all into her bedroom closet just as he knocked on the door. Paula took a deep breath. She snuck one last look at herself in the mirror, then went to answer the door.

  Zach’s eyes widened as he took her in from head to toe. Then he whistled. “Wow. You look fantastic.”

  “So do you.”

  Zach was dressed like a gentleman rancher of yesteryear. He wore a fitted black twill coat with notched lapels and a gray silk vest. Tailored black trousers broke perfectly over polished boots with engraved silver tips. His strong jaw was freshly shaved, set off by a high-collared white shirt with a flat black tie that crossed at the ends. All that thick, dark hair of his was more than long enough for a frontiersman.

  She touched a fingertip to each of the shirt’s pearl studs and stopped at his tie.

  “But I’m not sure a gentleman should whistle at a lady,” Paula said primly. She toyed with the ends of the tie.

  “My apologies, Miss Lewis. I meant no offense.” He captured her hand and pressed his lips to it. The sensation was delicious. His steady gaze became slightly hooded as he looked down at her, struggling to keep his eyes on her face and not her half-bared bosom.

  She heaved a sigh just to torture him. “You are forgiven. You look extraordinarily handsome tonight, Mr. Bennett. Please come in.”

  “Thanks.” He strode in, taking the time to admire her from all sides. Paula twirled in the beautiful dress, making it flutter around her ankles. “Maybe we should skip the ball.”

  “Absolutely not,” she said indignantly. “This dress cost a fortune.”

  “Whatever you spent, it was worth it,” he laughed. He preened a little himself. “Like my outfit?”