Texas Fever

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“I’d believe a Gala before I’d believe a Granny Smith. At least they’re sweet, and they’re red.”

“They’re a pale, washed-out red.”

“Girls, girls,” Lolly chimed in as she perched on the arm of an overstuffed, plastic-wrapped chair. “I’m sure Holly doesn’t want to hear us debate the merits of apples.”

“Actually, it’s sort of fascinating.” Holly had never had real friends of her own—she and her mother had moved too much and later, when she’d been stuck in the same city in foster care, she’d still gone from family to family. She’d always wanted to join in on the conversations in the girls’ locker room or at lunch, but she’d learned early on to hold back.

Getting too friendly only made leaving that much harder.

Not anymore.

“You’re sweet. Isn’t she sweet, girls?” A dozen heads bobbed in agreement. “I know you’ve got bigger things to worry over. Moving from a new town has got to be exhausting.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“Good, because the girls and I were hoping you could make time to attend our monthly luncheon. It’s always the third Tuesday and we have some really great speakers. We’re primarily focused on topics that appeal to single women.”

“Namely men,” one of the other women chimed in.

“Definitely men.”

“How to find them. How to keep them. How to please them. That’s where you come in.”

“I’m not sure I’m following you—” Holly started, her words lost as Lolly linked arms with her.

“Why, where are my manners? You don’t just hand over a gift and then talk a woman’s ear off. You have to open it!” She ushered Holly over to the sofa.

The two women on the sofa scooted apart and patted the spot between them. Holly adjusted her grip on the heavy box as she found herself steered into the spot between them.

“Go on,” one woman said.

“Open it,” came another encouragement.

With a dozen interested gazes hooked on her, she pulled off the bow and tore off the wrapping paper. She eyed the colorful patchwork quilt nestled in white tissue paper and a memory pulled at her.

She’d been in the second grade, sitting in the back of Mrs. Klatt’s room, watching the entire class sing happy birthday to one of the other students. A girl with long blond hair and pink Barbie boots. The most popular girl at Chicago’s Wallaby Elementary. Mrs. Klatt had presented the girl with a cupcake sporting a blazing pink candle while the kids had piled dozens of handmade gifts onto her desk. It was a tradition repeated for every student in Mrs. Klatt’s class.

Everyone except Holly.

Her birthday came and went the following week, but there was no cupcake or candle or presents, or even a birthday song. Because Holly came and went herself, too fast for anyone to learn her birthday, much less remember it.

She blinked back the hot tears that sprang to her eyes. “It’s really beautiful.”

“Jennifer made it,” Lolly said. “She sells them at her shop in town—Quilts and Stuff. She also sells the most divine candles…” The woman’s voice faded as Holly’s attention shifted back to the gift. Her fingers stroked the soft embroidery as she read the sentiment in bright pink stitch…

Home Sweet Home.

Something soft and warm unfolded inside of her, and she smiled.

“So you’ll come then?” Lolly was saying. “To the luncheon?”

“I don’t usually take time off during the week,” she started. Usually. But Holly was doing away with her usual routine. She was starting fresh. Planting roots. Making friends. “I’d love to be there.”

“Wonderful,” Lolly said as she pushed to her feet.

“We can really use your help,” Jennifer told her. “Your grandmother was the guru when it came to pleasing men and heaven knows we need all the help we can get.”

“That’s right,” another woman chimed in. “Charlene Singer—she’s the resident sexpert—is always preaching the same old, same old about inner beauty and emotional attraction and clicking on a psychological wavelength, but she doesn’t give us anything really solid to work with.”

“Like positions,” one of the women chimed in.

“And techniques,” another offered as they all moved toward the doorway.

“We think it’s so cool that you’re continuing the family tradition,” Lolly told her as she pulled open the front door. “Why, when we heard you specialized in ultimate orgasms, I activated the phone tree right away. Every Juliet in the county knows you’re here and they’ll be thrilled to hear that you’re going to speak.”

“Speak? But I thought it was a luncheon?”

“You’re the luncheon speaker.” Lolly beamed. “It’ll be our most informative meeting yet. It’s about time the women in this town learned how to really please a man.”

“But I cook for a living.”

“That’s what we’re counting on.”

“But—” Holly started, only to bite back the rest of her protest when Lolly turned expectant eyes on her. Holly’s hands tightened on the soft quilt. “But I’ll need some time to prepare.” Okay, that wasn’t the no cotton-picking way she’d intended, but she couldn’t very well be rude. They’d come all this way outside of town and brought her a really great present and they were so nice.

“The luncheon isn’t for three weeks. We meet at the community center off of Main Street. Cookie does the decorations, Jennifer provides the linens and we have the food catered in. This month is barbecued venison, so don’t wear anything light-colored. Last time, Jill Marie Smith wore shell-pink. She’s still trying to get the stains out of her lap. We’ll see you then,” Lolly rushed on. “And before then, I’m sure. It’s such a small town.”

“But—” Holly started again. The protest fell on deaf ears as she found herself passed from one woman to the next in a series of loose, informal hugs before the door slammed quickly shut.

As she stood in the center of her living room, the quilt in her hands, and tried to catch her breath, the truth of what she’d just done came barreling at her like a semi with bad brakes.

A luncheon speech. About pleasing a man.

A luncheon speech. About pleasing a man.

First off, the closest she’d ever come to a speech had been a ninth grade book report at school number eight. But that had been different. It didn’t matter that she’d had to read verbatim from her paper or that some of the kids had snickered when she’d mispronounced tyrannosaurus because she’d known there would be another science class down the road, and she’d been right. Five months later, she’d changed schools again, and families.

But this… This was different.

This was home.

Home Sweet Home.

As for the man-pleasing part… The only person she usually pleased was herself—with a scrumptious dessert or an intense session with her favorite vibrator.

Up until Friday night, that is. She’d pleased Josh and he’d certainly pleased her, but there’d been no formula to it. It had just happened. She was a baker, for heaven’s sake.

But the Juliets didn’t seem to realize that. She was Rose Farraday’s granddaughter and, therefore, a chip off the old block when it came to men and pleasure. Adding to the misconception was the fact that she did profit from sex, what with the sensual nature of her desserts.

She had to set them straight.

That’s what she told herself when the doorbell rang a few minutes later. Just open your mouth and set the record straight.

She reached for the doorknob.

4

“I CAN’T TALK about how to please a man,” Holly said as she opened the door.

“No problem.” Sue—from the saloon on Friday night—stood on the front porch. “I’m really good at following written directions.” The woman wore an old Texas Rangers jersey, tan shorts and flip-flops. Her hair had been pulled back in a ponytail. Her eyes looked red-rimmed. Dark shadows puddled beneath, as if she’d tossed and turned all night. And cried. She’d definitely been up crying.

Concern welled inside Holly and her own anxiety fled. “I’m really sorry. I thought you were one of the Juliets.”

“I guess I am now. I am single.” Sue tried to smile but the expression didn’t quite touch her eyes. “I don’t mean to barge in on you, but I had to say thanks. It was really nice of you to see me home on Friday night.”

“Glad I could help. I know you’re hurting right now, but things will get better. Especially if you try to stay busy. Find a way to occupy your free time.”

Holly knew that firsthand because she’d done so after the breakup of her only romantic relationship. She’d thrown herself into school after breaking up with Don whom she’d dated a whopping four months during her first year in college.

She’d approached the situation with reservations because she’d always made it a habit of keeping her distance when it came to any type of relationship. But Don had been so sweet and she’d been so vulnerable. She’d never had a real boyfriend and the temptation was too much to resist since she knew she wouldn’t be picking up and leaving anytime soon—she was only a freshman on a full academic scholarship to the University of Houston. She hadn’t counted on the fact that Don would party too much, flunk out of school and be forced to return to his home in Alabama.

She’d been so hurt, she’d eaten her way through an entire bowl of fudge batter—chocolate helped sate her lustful cravings, but fudge soothed any hurt. She’d also cried and wallowed in her self-pity, but then she’d picked herself back up and focused on her life. On beefing up her defenses and moving on.

Her gaze went to Sue’s red-rimmed eyes and her uncertain expression, and Holly’s chest tightened. She’d only been in like with Don. She couldn’t imagine the hurt if she’d let herself fall in love with him.

“You should definitely keep busy,” Holly went on.

“I’m glad you said that because I have something to ask you.” The woman pulled back her shoulders and lifted her chin as if to summon her courage. “I want to work for you.” Before Holly could reply, she rushed on, “I’m single and I hate it, and the only way to change it is to make some changes.” Uncertainty flashed in her gaze before she seemed to gather her confidence. She squared her shoulders again. “I’m going to turn myself into a sex kitten and lure my Bert Wayne back home. I figure I’ll have to work on my looks and go on a diet. While I’m doing that, I want to beef up my know-how when it comes to pleasing my man. I know the nuts and bolts, of course. It’s not like I’m a virgin or anything. But I was hoping you could teach me the extras.”

“Me?”

“You’re an expert.”

“I’m afraid the only thing I can teach you is the difference between whisking and beating.”

Sue seemed to think for a second. “I’ve never really been into any sort of bondage, but I guess I could give it a try. And I’ll work really hard. I won’t even take a lunch break. I’ll be so dedicated you won’t regret giving me this chance. I swear.”

“I’m not in the pleasure business,” Holly said, determined to set the record straight before she found herself committed to private lessons in addition to a speech on the subject. “I mean, I am. I please the taste buds. I don’t please men.”

“But the word around town is that you give the best orgasms around.”

“I don’t give orgasms. I make them.”

“I know. That’s why I’m here.”

“I make them in my kitchen.” She motioned Sue inside and led her into the kitchen. Picking up a mouthwatering confection, she turned to the woman. “Meet my Ultimate White Chocolate Orgasm, also available in milk chocolate.”

“It’s a dessert.”

“Not just any dessert. It’s a dessert for lovers. An aphrodisiac dessert meant to tantalize your taste buds and spice up your love life. So you see, while I am in the sex business, I’m not in the sexual act business. What I do is not nearly as exciting.” She eyed Sue, noting the woman’s suddenly bright eyes and trembling lips, as if Holly had snatched away her last hope.

“But I could use some help,” Holly heard herself say. “I had a full-time baking assistant back in Houston. I haven’t had a chance to post any want ads for some kitchen help, but I’m definitely hiring. If you’re interested.”

“I won’t get to sleep with anyone?”

“Not during working hours.”

“And I won’t get to learn all those fancy hand job techniques that supposedly make a man beg for more?”

“The only thing your hands will be doing is running a mixer and pouring ingredients. But I do offer a nice dental plan and decent health insurance.”

“Paid vacation?”

“One week after the first six months. And you get all the free desserts you can eat.”

Sue eyed the various goodies spread out on the massive table. “Aphrodisiac, you say?” At Holly’s nod, she added, “Well, it does hint at sex. Sort of.” She shrugged. “I guess making sexy desserts could be almost as sexy as selling my body.” She inhaled, her nostrils flaring at the scent of chocolate that filled the air, and a grin tugged at her lips. “You know, I actually do feel sexy.”

“The smell of chocolate releases pheromones in the brain that trigger a sense of well-being.”

She inhaled again and her expression turned into a full-blown smile. “This turning over a new leaf is going to work, I just know it. Bert will be begging to come back in no time.” She rubbed her hands together and glanced around. “Where do I start?”

“You follow this recipe and start a batch of Ooey Gooey Ecstasy in mixer number two.” Holly handed her a folded apron from a nearby countertop and a pair of gloves. “The pecans and ginseng are in that cabinet over there. The rest of the stuff I have laid out on the countertop. I’m going to head to town and pick up some emergency bags of flour at the Food-o-rama to tide us over until the UPS guy comes.”