Montana Fever

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“If I’m so funny, how come you’re not laughing?”

“I was being sarcastic. As if you didn’t know.”

Duke made a right turn from the highway onto another road. “You’re fighting this, aren’t you?”

“Fighting what?”

“What’s happening between us. I have to ask myself why you’d do that. You see, with you being the self-confident, independent woman you are, I don’t think you’d be in this car with me right now if you’d rather be somewhere else. Which leads me to believe that you like me. Stop me if I’m wrong,” he said, sending her a quick glance, before asking point-blank, “do you like me?”

She gave an incredulous laugh. “We barely know each other. What on earth are you hoping I’ll say?”

“Just the truth, honey. Just the plain old truth.”

“The unvarnished truth, Duke Sheridan, is that you’re making me very uncomfortable.”

“Ah, a clue to your inner feelings.”

“Clue, my left foot! I wish you’d stop trying to figure me out.”

“Aren’t you trying to figure me out?”

“Absolutely not. I thought we were going to see a movie. Going to a movie with a man doesn’t call for an analysis of his psyche. At least I never thought it did.”

“I have a totally different opinion on that subject,” Duke said calmly. “When a man and woman meet for the first time and the air all but sizzles around them, I think they start delving into each other’s personality right from the get-go.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Oh, really?” But she didn’t refute his remark about “sizzling air,” though it was certainly an exaggeration of their first meeting. Still, denying that she had felt something uniquely exciting that day would be a lie, and she suspected that he would be only too willing to debate the point. It was a discussion she preferred avoiding, even though she usually spoke her mind without wondering if she should. A disturbing thought came to her. If Duke was a different person with her, so was she with him. What should she make of that?

“Almost there,” Duke remarked, making another turn. “Getting back to personalities—”

She cut in, “Let’s not.”

“Do you usually avoid controversial conversations?”

“No, I do not. But I think you’re making far too much of a first date.”

Duke took one hand from the wheel and snapped his fingers. “I got it now. You’re more willing to talk about meaningful relationships on a second date.”

Giving him a startled look, she saw the humorous waggling of his eyebrows in the dash lights.

“You are having far too good a time at my expense,” she accused.

He laughed. “I am having a good time, honey. But that’s only because I’m with you. You’re not mad at me for teasing you a little, are you?”

He was too damned cute, but her annoyance melted away until she gave a small laugh. “No, I’m not mad at you.”

“That’s good. It’s hard dancing with someone who’s mad at you.”

“I’m sure you’ve had the experience,” she said dryly.

“There’s another topic you probably won’t talk about on a first date.”

She looked at him quizzically. “What topic?”

“Experience. I’m sure you must have met some interesting people during your travels.”

“Yes, of course.”

Duke cleared his throat. “Interesting men?”

She tilted her head to see him. “By any chance, are you asking about my experience with men?”

“Well, I am curious.”

“Would you like me to tell you what you can do with your curiosity, Mr. Sheridan?” she asked sweetly.

“Uh, probably not.” He chuckled after a moment. “We sure do get along, don’t we?”

Lola merely shook her head in amazement, though in truth she had been enjoying their repartee. Duke was fun to be with, flagrantly nosy but fun. Scratch “boring,” she thought, recalling her thoughts about what kind of evening they might have together.

“There’s the Grange,” Duke announced.

Lola looked ahead and saw the lights of the old building. Dozens of cars and pickup trucks were parked around the place.

“Looks like a good turnout,” she remarked.

Duke pulled into the parking lot and found an empty space. He turned off the ignition. The second the motor was silent, they could hear music coming from the building. Lola smiled: it was the same type of old-time music she remembered. She reached for the door handle to get out, and felt Duke’s hand on her arm.

She turned to look at him. “What?”

“If you’ll wait a minute, I’ll be a gentleman and open your door for you.”

She laughed. “That’s not necessary. I’m perfectly capable of opening the door for myself.”

“Lola, sit,” he said firmly, and bounded from the car to hurry around the front of his car.

“You silly man,” she whispered. But there was something alive and happy within her. She could have easily and honestly given Duke an answer to his question Do you like me? She did like him. Very much.

But it was that very affection that had her guard up. Never before had she so quickly developed positive feelings for a man. To her way of thinking, that in itself was reason enough to keep their relationship in the sane and sensible category, especially when she suspected that, given an opening, Duke would make a move on her with the impact of a speeding bullet.

He opened her door. She looked at the hand he extended in invitation for a moment before taking it and heard Duke laugh softly.

Okay, maybe she was being a little too cautious. Gingerly she placed her hand in his and got out of the car. The next thing she knew she was pressed against Duke, thigh to thigh, chest to chest. Startled, she lifted her chin to look into his eyes. His arms were around her, holding her firmly in place.

“Don’t do this, Duke,” she said in a voice that was suddenly husky with rampaging emotions.

“You don’t kiss on a first date?” There was a teasing quality to his voice, even though his eyes were dark and sober. “I want to kiss you, Lola,” he whispered. “I’ve hardly thought of anything else since we met.”

She saw his head slowly coming down. Her own heartbeat was nearly choking her.

But she wasn’t ready for this move. Placing her hands on his chest, she shoved hard and took a backward step at the same time.

“Cool it, sport,” she mumbled thickly. “I won’t be rushed.”

Duke stared at her, then laughed. “Guess I forgot that. Come on, let’s go in.”

Lola frowned as they wound through vehicles to reach the Grange. He’d taken rejection well. This time. What concerned her was that the next time he made a pass—and she had no doubt that he would try again—she might not say no.

She could get in very deep, very fast with Duke Sheridan. A heavy but silent sigh lifted her shoulders. After little more than an hour together, things were already getting complicated.

Was she falling for Duke? Maybe she was, though an even more disturbing question was what he really thought of her. If he was looking for nothing more than sex, he was barking up the wrong tree.

But how would she know? More than one woman had fallen for a charming, handsome man, given him everything including her heart, and then been dropped like a hot potato when another challenging woman appeared on the scene.

Why did she suspect Duke of being that type of guy? No one had said anything to lead her to believe that about him. It was more of a gut instinct than anything else.

A final thought just before they reached the door of the Grange weakened her knees. Was it possible that she was merely devising arguments against falling in love and would do the same with any man who expressed a serious interest in her?

Four (#ulink_8fa6aeee-1c64-5854-92ea-ea25cbd680bd)

A blue sedan was parked in the dark shadow of a huge cottonwood tree, directly across the street from Charlie’s Place. The woman inside the car sat rigid as a rock, staring intently at the lighted windows of the Fanon residence. A man was in and out of sight, appearing to be doing some cleaning. She couldn’t see his features clearly and wished she had binoculars with her. Even the vague picture he presented, however, made her heart beat faster. Charles Albert Fanon. Instinctively she knew it was him. This was her chance. She should take it…now!

Her muscles became even stiffer than they’d been and her thoughts began stumbling over one another. Panic rose in her throat, and it took several minutes to even partially calm herself.

She knew the name of the dark-haired young woman living with Charles…Lola Fanon. She had visited the Men’s Western Wear store, going in when the two female clerks were busy with customers. Browsing, she had managed to get close enough to read Lola’s courtesy tag on her blouse. The Fanon name had dealt her a blow. Who was she to Charles? The rent-a-room theory was out; Lola Fanon had to be closely related, probably a daughter.

Then, earlier tonight, she had seen Lola leave with a man in a black vehicle. Ever since, she had been watching Charles through the windows of his house and business.

She inhaled a deep breath, waiting for the courage to climb the stairs to the front porch, to go through that door, to do what she had come to Montana and Rocky Ford to do.

“Oh, God,” she moaned. She could never leave town until she accomplished her goal, and here was a perfect opportunity to do so. He was all alone in that big house. Why couldn’t she get out of this car?

Her mind raced, looking for answers. Was it because she still didn’t know enough about Charles Fanon? Enough about Lola? Maybe he had more children than Lola. If so, where were they? Where was his wife?

There were too many questions confusing her. She could not do it tonight.

The decision was relieving. Her body lost some of its tension.

When the lights went out in the front part of the house, she started the car and slowly drove away.

The second Duke paid for their admittance to the Lockland Grange, he pulled Lola onto the dance floor. Surprised, she laughed but fell into the steps of the waltz being played by the people making music on a piano, guitar and fiddle.

She glanced around in amazement while they danced. “It’s exactly the same.”

“Told you it was,” Duke said.

“Yes, but after so many years I expected some change. The ladies still have their tables of snacks and drinks to sell along that west wall, and the piano is in the exact spot it always was.”

“Some things never change,” Duke said.

“Very few.”

“Have you noticed changes in the area since you returned?”

“Lots of them.”

“And you don’t like change?”

“To the contrary, I’ve always enjoyed change. Actively sought it, to be honest. Until recently,” she said. “I’m talking about personal change now,” she added after a moment.

“So you were a changeable woman and now you’re not?”

She nodded. “Something like that.”

“How’d that happen?”

Good question, she thought, and gave a small shrug in response. “The band members can’t possibly be the same people who were here when I was a teenager, but they seem the same,” she said, instead of replying to Duke’s question.