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He wasn’t the one being difficult. “I asked her, Mom. She’s really not interested.”
“Sweetheart, please try again. I know she can help. You will, won’t you?”
He thought he’d be wasting time, but offered her another assurance before saying goodbye. When his aunt had died, he’d felt useless. Well, this wasn’t about him. It was about his mother, about her love, her memories of her sister.
He withdrew a business card he’d plucked up at Mystic Treasures and dialed the phone number. “Tessa Madison,” he requested of Marla, Tessa’s employee.
“Tessa isn’t here.”
“This is Colby Holmes.”
An excited edge crept into her voice. “She’s not here. She went to the antiques sale.”
“Thanks.” Colby set down the receiver. He needed to get this problem handled—now. He cursed the situation. The last thing he wanted to do was walk around the town square and look for the Gypsy lady.
Chapter Two
It was so blessed hot even at dusk. Colby scanned the sea of faces as people browsed from table to table, looking at clocks and crystal and antique jewelry. He stopped beside a table displaying Civil War guns. How hard could it be to find someone who looked like her? She was hardly ordinary with all that black hair and that trim little body.
“A good showing, huh, Colby?”
Colby let Tessa’s image drift away and forced himself to face the ex-mayor, a fiftyish, barrel-chested man with a receding hairline and a reputation as a ladies’ man since his divorce five years ago.
“It was a good idea to have this at night instead of the day. Don’t you think?”
Colby knew he was looking for a pat on the back. “I heard you suggested that to Pierce,” he said, referring to the town’s present mayor. “Real smart idea, Henry.”
Henry nodded thanks, then gestured in the direction of the tall, ruddy-faced man whose dark blond hair was threaded with gray. “Stay away from the sheriff,” he said about Dave Reingard. “He’s sure been in a foul mood for days.”
“It’s the heat,” Colby said. “Everyone’s grumpy.” But who could blame Dave? Colby mused. He had a murder to solve and a lot of pressure to do it quickly. Colby noticed that the deputy sheriff, Holt Tanner, stood near Dave. Colby doubted either man had an eye for the old furniture. They’d shown up at the antiques fair because people were tense, needed to see law enforcement was nearby.
“We need to find the killer,” he heard one woman say to her husband.
“We could all be killed in our beds,” an elderly man commented to a friend.
Concern had increased that a killer was lurking. Colby figured nothing would alleviate that worry except the sheriff announcing he’d arrested someone. Warren Parrish ranked at the top of Colby’s suspect list. Visually he followed the middle-aged man’s path as he meandered from one table to the next as if no worries existed in his life. Thin, tall, with gray hair, he puffed on a cigar, and despite the heat wore his trademark light-colored suit.
It took effort not to slug him. Since Parrish had arrived in town and announced that he was Harriet’s estranged husband, he hadn’t shown a second of genuine grief.
“Your mood is dark.”
Colby turned slowly, preparing himself to see Tessa Madison’s gray eyes. How could he have missed her? he thought. She wore a white dress with small pink-and-green flowers. Sleeveless, it brushed her ankles and scooped to a V above the shadow of her breasts, just enough to tempt his imagination. On her feet were white sandals with half a dozen straps. He eyed her pink toenails and the thin ring, a silver band, on one toe. “My mood’s okay.”
“Purple aura,” she teased.
He found himself grinning. “Not green anymore?”
“Oh, no. Definitely purple.”
Staring at her lips, not for the first time, he wondered about her taste. “Not a good sign?”
Slowly her smile spread to her eyes. “Certain auras reflect a person’s mood or future.”
Colby couldn’t stop himself. He released a snort of disbelief.
“You don’t believe that?”
He could do his own kind of taunting. “I believe in what I can see—” He paused, looked away from the gold triangle dangling from her left earlobe and fingered her necklace and the amulet, a dime-size letter X. “Touch.” Deliberately he let his skin brush hers above the scooped neckline. “Feel.” With satisfaction, he heard her suck in a breath as his knuckle caressed her skin. “What’s this?”
“It’s the runic letter for good luck.” Her gaze remained on him as she stepped back, forcing the chain to slip from his fingers. “Are you here to buy something?”
“Browsing.” Admiration whipped through him. She wouldn’t intimidate easily. “What about you?”
“I bought something.” When she gestured toward a cherrywood rolltop desk, a pleased smile lit her face. “Look. Isn’t this beautiful?” Lovingly she ran a hand over the top of the desk.
“Nice.” He had no real knowledge about what was a genuine antique, but he liked her choice. Not perfect, its top bore a few scratches. It had been more than a fine antique. It had been useful. Sturdy, long-lasting, it was also too heavy for her to move around. Colby viewed the moment as the perfect opportunity. “Do you need help getting it home?”
In a slow, measuring way, she cast a sidelong look at him.
He laughed, guessing her thought. “No strings.”
“I couldn’t ask you….”
“I volunteered.”
“I have a van. I’ll go home and get it.”
“Do you have good muscles, too?” She looked like a good wind would knock her down. He watched her eyes slice to his arms, sinewy after years of pitting his strength against a broncing animal.
“Colby.” Henry’s slap on the shoulder forced him to look away. “I heard news.” Henry spoke low, as if his news was confidential. “Diana’s back.”
Colby hadn’t seen Diana in a year, not since the day she’d placed his engagement ring on the bedside table and announced she wanted something he wouldn’t give her.
“I heard she’s staying in town for a while, might even settle down here again.”
“That so?”
Henry grinned wider. “Want me to tell her hi for you if I see her?”
“No, Henry.” Colby chose a surefire way to get Henry to leave. “Give me a hand with this desk, will you?”
Henry looked so dumbfounded at the request that Colby nearly laughed.
“You don’t have to,” Tessa protested.
“It’s yours?” Henry snuck a look to his left and then his right as if checking to see who was watching him. Uh, sorry, Colby. Got to go. Lester needs me,” he said about his brother.
Lester was nowhere in sight. “That’s okay. I can manage by myself,” Colby said.
“You shouldn’t have asked him to help me,” Tessa said once they were alone. “Most people aren’t comfort able around me.”
Because she made them believe she was weird. But was she? He stared at the desk. A sturdy, serviceable choice, the kind a practical person would favor. “This isn’t about you. It’s about his laziness.”
“He mentioned your ex-fiancée, didn’t he?”
“Diana Lynscot. She married another. Did you learn that, too?”
“Yes. I heard, too, that she’s a widow now.” Empathy filled her voice. “That’s so terrible. To be a widow and not even be thirty.”
“He was fifty-nine. And rich.” He withdrew his truck keys from a pocket. “I’ll get my truck and take this desk to your place, if you’re ready to leave.”
“I am. Thank you for playing good neighbor Sam.” He watched long, soot-black lashes flutter before she raised her eyes to him. Enough. He needed to stop noticing every little thing about her. He had enough on his mind. Like his ranch. And a prize mare.
“The mare—” She started, then paused and looked past him.
The mare. His mare? What about her? He waited for her to say more, but she was smiling at someone.
Curious, Colby looked over his shoulder.
Slim, with chin-length dark hair, his mother strolled toward them with a bright smile. “Is he being difficult, Tessa?”
“No, he isn’t, Louise,” Tessa answered.
Colby slipped an arm around his mother’s shoulder. Quit talking about me as if I took a walk.”
Her smile waned despite his humor. “Did you see him?”
“I saw him,” he answered, well aware she was discussing Parrish. “Try to ignore him, Mom.”
“I plan to.” She craned her neck. “Your father is around here somewhere. He’s thinking of buying one of those electric beer signs.” She rolled her eyes. “I do hope I can talk him out of it.” Lightly she touched Tessa’s hand. “Nice to see you again, Tessa.”
“You, too.”
“I’ll be by the store soon,” she assured with a backhand wave.
Tessa looked in another direction. “That man.” With a nod of her head, she indicated Parrish. “Is he the one who was casting gloom around you?”
“Casting gloom around me?” She had a cute way about her.
“That’s what he was doing,” she said, deadly serious.
“Yeah, that’s Parrish.” Temptation slithered through him to reach out, thread his fingers through silky-looking black hair. He wondered if the strands felt as soft as they looked. “Warren Parrish,” he added and wondered if he was losing perspective, letting his attraction for her interfere with why he was with her. “Parrish came to town and claimed he was married to my aunt. Harriet had never mentioned him or being married.”
“Have you checked this out?”
“They’re doing that.”
She met his gaze. “The sheriff?”
“Holt Tanner, the deputy sheriff, is checking on him.” He didn’t like having to sit back and let someone else handle everything. “So far there’s no new leads, no real suspects. I’ll get the truck.” On the way home, he might stop at the vet’s. The mare was prime for breeding but still wasn’t pregnant.
“She is pregnant, you know.”
It took a second for her words to sink in. This was nuts. He didn’t believe she had some psychic vision about his horse. Over his shoulder, he leveled his best no-nonsense look at her. “No, she isn’t.” He’d been informed a week ago that the test had been negative. He kept walking without another look back. She’d heard he was concerned about the mare. She was trying to mess with his head. Well, she was wasting her time. He didn’t believe in psychics, karma, transcendental babble. He’d never even liked magic shows.
“Colby.” Henry fell in step beside him. “You need to know something.”
In no mood for conversation with Henry, he only slowed his stride instead of stopping. He wasn’t twenty feet from his truck. The conversation would be brief, he hoped.
“People aren’t too sure about her—that Tessa Madison.”
That stopped him. He’d never worried what other people thought about something that was his business. “I didn’t know you knew her well enough to have an opinion,” Colby challenged. He’d always favored the underdog. That was his father’s doing. Bud Holmes had studied law for a while before his father’s death had forced him to take over the family ranch. He’d taught his son to believe in honesty and a fair chance for everyone. Colby figured Tessa Madison deserved one, too.
“Just telling you what I heard. She was arrested last year while living somewhere else. You might want to stay clear of her.”
Colby drilled a hard look at him. “Sounds like gossip to me, Henry.” What could she have done to be arrested? Fraud? A scam?
Henry started to move away. “Don’t say you weren’t warned.”
Colby scowled after him, then unlocked his truck. Minutes later, with the help of the mayor, Pierce Dalton, he’d loaded the desk onto the bed of his truck.
“That was nice of the mayor,” Tessa said while settling in the passenger’s seat. “People really like him.”
He picked up on her small talk. “He’s with Chelsea, you know,” he reminded her.
She released a soft laugh, a soft and sensuous-sounding laugh. A laugh that sent a jolt through him. “Yes, I do know that. They’re planning a wedding. And no, I’m not interested in our mayor.”
Colby was surprised. A lot of single women in town were disappointed when Pierce got engaged to Chelsea. At the end of the block, Colby maneuvered the truck around the corner to her store.
“I have a furniture dolly at the store,” she said as he braked.
Colby flicked off the ignition. Before he could respond, she jumped out of the truck. Was she always so high-energy or was he making her nervous? Meeting her on the sidewalk, he held out a hand. “Give me the keys and—”
With an airy stride, she ambled ahead of him toward the back of the house. “Don’t need them.”
Okay, Rumor wasn’t the crime capital of the nation, but good sense made most people lock doors. “Why don’t you lock?”
“It doesn’t work.”
He said the logical thing. “Then buy a new one.”
She stilled, grinned at him. “Why?”
“Don’t you worry about a burglar?”
“Why should I? Only someone who believed in what I sell would be interested in my merchandise. At present, that number is few.”
Logic. Amazing. She’d made her point with logic. “A woman alone should lock the door.”
