Hot Coco (14 page)

There she was—in all her glory—wearing a hot pink, string bikini.
Her perky, round breasts bounced gently when she strutted toward him in a pair of pink stilettos. Her shapely hips eased down into her long, lean legs. No ballerina could be more beautiful while gliding across the room toward the edge of the pool to look down into the water.

He closed his eyes.
Well, she’s almost naked.
He couldn’t think about that. Coco was about to do a really big no-no. He had to put a stop to this dangerous game they were adamant on playing.

He heard her voice again. “Tom.” This time her voice was stern, almost scolding. Mike opened his eyes to a sight he never thought he’d witness. She was peering into the horse water, with her hands firmly on her gorgeous hips and an uncompromising look on her face.

Sexy.

Tom dropped his foot to the floor.
Thank God.
He was peering over the horse at her.

“Tom, I’ve had second thoughts,” she stated decisively. Her nose wrinkled at the sight of the less than crystal clear water.

Oh yeah, she doesn’t like what she’s looking at. She is definitely in control mode. Very sexy.

“
I think Mike knows best. We should leave the swimming to him.”

Mike exhaled. “Thanks, Coco.”

“It’s Colette,” she corrected him in a firm voice.

Ballerina sexy.

Tom’s lower lip drooped far and low. “Do you mean, let Mike ride while the horse swims?”

Terrified that in fact that was exactly what the sexy little blonde meant, Mike’s entire body stiffened. He braced for yet another Coco calamity. Only this time it would be at his expense.
Aren’t they all?

“No, Tom, I mean leave the training to the professional.” Her eyes scanned the water again before landing on the gentlemanly cowboy. She tossed him a resolute look. “Isn’t that best, Mike?” She wasn’t begging for his confirmation, she was damn well demanding it.

“It is ... Colette,” he assured her with a soft, half-smile.

She returned his smile with her lips and her eyes. She made her way to him, brushed a stray strand away from his eyes, and kissed his cheek tenderly to urge another smile out of him.

“Thank you, Mike.” She squared her shoulders. “I wanted you to know that I’ve made arrangements for my horses to be shipped to a Thoroughbred placement program.” She squeezed his arm. “I feel really
badly about what happened to Sebastian. I don’t want Charlatan to hurt anyone ever again, but I want him to have a good home.”

“Another good decision, Colette.” Relief filled Mike’s voice.

“Thanks again, my gentlemanly cowboy.” With that, she took Tom by the hand to lead him, and his Speedo, from the swimming facility.

Mike held on to his smile. He was amazed how far Coco—Colette had come in only a few, short weeks. A strange metamorphosis had taken place. From the train wreck to the cool-headed, rational—and yes—in control—individual in the relationship. Still, he wished one of those damned strings would come undone and that bikini come tumbling down.
Seeing Coco naked just plain wasn’t meant to be. Damn it.

Forgiving just became a whole lot easier. Forget? No, not really. I don’t want to forget Coco—Not the calamities she caused. Not her twinkling crystal blue eyes. She is beautiful and kind. She never used her beauty to manipulate or hurt anyone. No, forgetting Miss Colette Beardmore is not a viable option.

Progress.

Today was the day. Eric wasn’t going to put it off any longer. He was going to march into Jen Fleming’s office and take the first step toward a future. He was sure she was feeling the same way—pretty sure, anyway.

Morning workouts were finished. Reviewing nouns and pronouns, he’d spent an hour with Margie. Now, he stood outside Jen’s office doorwith his hand on the knob. He sucked in a deep breath, and tapped on the door while he pressed through.

Nobody.

The office was quiet and still.

Jen’s metal desk rested along the wall with two stacked baskets filled with neatly piled papers on the right corner. Several framed pictures of her son, Brandon, took up the desk’s left corner.

Eric picked up one of the pictures. He’d never met Brandon. The young man, whose last name was Marshall, rarely came back to Lanzville.
Jen must have been married before, and took back her maiden name after a divorce.
She never spoke of it, and he didn’t feel that he should pry.
She’ll tell me when she’s ready.

“Looking for me?” Jen slipped through the door.

Startled, Eric replaced the picture on the desk. “Yes, I just dripped by ... I mean, I just
dropped
by.”

She tossed him a befuddled look. She had never seen him unraveled. “Is something wrong, Eric?”

“No, no, I ...” The words were catching in his throat.

This used to be easier—back when I was young, and romancing my wife. Now? It seems awkward, and ridiculous.
Deciding to take the plunge, Eric shook his head and took a deep breath. He squared his shoulders and looked her in the eye. “I came to see if you were available for the benefit dance next week.”

At last.
She gazed into his anxiety-filled expression that was anticipating her response.
How cute is this? He’s like a nervous teenager—adorable. Should I make him wait for my answer? I don’t want to seem too eager. But he looks so incredibly handsome standing there all vulnerable and anxious.
She had never seen the imposing man like this before. It made her want to push him against the wall, smash her lips against his, and see where things went after that.

She held her poker-face. “Are you asking me to go with you?” She didn’t want to jump at the proposal, and she certainly didn’t want any misunderstandings at this point in the game.

Good God, didn’t I make that clear?
He was feeling really rusty at this stuff
.
“Yes, if you’d like to go with me,” he admitted coyly.

Her plan was waning. She’d waited so long for this man to want to be with her, and she so wanted to be with him.
To hell with looking too eager.
“Of course, I’ll go with you.” She was quite pleased with herself that she didn’t seem overly enthusiastic, or at least she hoped.

Eric smiled in relief. Looking into those big, brown, damned sexy eyes, he couldn’t help himself anymore. Gently, he took her by the shoulders, drew her close, and pressed his lips tenderly to hers.

She wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed him back just as gently, just as wanting, and just as relieved.
At last, at last, he’s come to me. I’ve waited for so long, dropped so many hints, and now here he is, kissing me. I don’t want to let go. Ahhh, sweet, sweet, progress.

Out of nowhere, there was another presence in the room—clearing her throat. Eric and Jen jerked away from their embrace and met Ava’s haughty smirk.

Jen brushed a brunette lock from her face. “Ava, what can I do for you?” She pounced into the all-business track nurse mode.

“Could you take a look at this cut? I think it’s infected, and I’m really tired of having Doc Spears look at things for me.” She held out her bandaged right hand.

Eric cleared his throat. “I’d better be going. I’ll see you later?”

Jen’s breath caught.
What? Is he kidding?
“Oh, yes, I’ll definitely see you later, Eric.”

Ava waited for the door to click closed before she seized the moment. “Good for you, Jennifer Fleming. When were you going to share the good news?”

Jen lifted a shoulder while pulling a bottle of antiseptic solution and gauze pads from a cabinet. “There’s nothing to share ... yet.” She was trying to control her excitement; but, the way her head was swimming, she feared it was a losing battle.

Ava’s lips curled in deviant delight. “Mmmm, I’m totally thrilled. You know, he’s been getting way too cozy with the O’Conner girl. I’m so glad he’s not one of those older men who always fall for younger women.”

Jen hesitated.
Eric is much too level-headed for that. Right?

The barn was rocking. Alan Jackson and Jimmy Buffett were singing about the possibility of it being five o’clock somewhere.

Perusing
Glamour Magazine
, Margie studied the season’s new eye colors while taking a break on a bale of straw. She’d never enjoyed time at the barn as much as she was at that moment. Upbeat, modern country music was blasting from the old radio. Actually, she was surprised that the radio hadn’t exploded. It had never been on any station except Old Country Gold.

Her foot was tapping, her head was bobbing, and her eyes were wide with the prospect of a new her.
Maybe I can’t be as beautiful as Kate, or Ava, or even Coco—maybe perfection is out of my reach, but I sure can take it up a notch. I’ll show Mike West what he’s been missing out on all these years. Thanks to his own father.
She giggled to herself at the idea.
Sooner or later, he’ll want to do more than have dinner.

“What the hell is going on in here?” Doug’s bellow sliced into her private party. He ripped the radio’s cord from the wall to abruptly silence Jackson and Buffett.

Margie never glanced up from her magazine.

Infuriated by her dismissal, he marched to her and snatched the magazine from her hands. Now he had her attention. “What’s the matter with you? Reading this trash, listening to that garbage. Who told you to change the station on my radio?” He was flabbergasted by her shocking mutiny. He didn’t see it coming. He couldn’t imagine the day his Marge would defy him.
Eric West, that’s who’s responsible for this.
Damn him to hell.

Hurling the magazine into the trash can, he glowered at her as if she were a total stranger caught stealing money in his barn. If she were a young girl, he’d give her a good thrashing. But, Eric West was right about one thing. She’s a woman.

Shit! What was I thinking? The night Eric stood on my porch telling me how to handle my daughter—I should have told him then and there not only to not come back but never to see Marge again. But Marge wanted it so bad, and she never really asked for anything, so I let it go on. It’s gone too far. Now what?

Margie wasn’t having it. She grabbed the magazine from the trash and plugged the radio into the wall. “I’ll turn it down so it won’t bother you as much, but I’m listening to this music, Dad. I’m thirty-three, and I’ve listened to Johnny Cash for the last time.” She tucked the magazine under her arm. “I’m going to the cafeteria for some lunch. You want anything?”

She waited for a response. When none came, she pushed through the barn door with Gretchen Wilson screaming “Hell ya!” from the old, dusty radio.

On her way out the door, she bumped into Scott so hard that she almost knocked him to the ground. “Oh,” she yelped.

“Everyone’s always in such a big hurry around here.” He held on to her arms. “Will you be ready by seven to go dancing tonight?”

Searching for words, Margie dropped her gaze to the ground. “I’m sorry, Scott. I can’t go with you tonight. I’m studying with Eric at his house.” Slowly she lifted her eyes to meet his.

He tried to hide the disappointment and the hurt, but he was failing miserably. “Oh ... no problem.” He forced a fake smile of poise. “I’ll catch ya another time, Marge.” He squeezed her arms gently. Dropping his chin, he pressed through the barn door.

Doug dropped down on the bale of straw. He’d lost his Marge. She was a goner, and he wasn’t quite sure what he was going do about it. He spit the last wad of tobacco to the ground.

Shuffling down the barn aisle with his shoulders drooped, Scott paused to assess the old codger feeling the same sense of loss he felt. He had seen the changes in Margie in these last weeks. Some might call it progress. To him, it seemed like she was slipping away from everything she knew and loved. He sank onto the bale next to Doug.

“I don’t like it, Scott. I tell ya, I don’t like it. I see the way she looks at that old man. It ain’t healthy. It ain’t normal.” Doug bawled while stuffing a fresh gob of snuff in his lip. He offered some to Scott.

His lip curling, Scott winced and backed away. “I don’t think you gotta worry about ol’ Eric West. I think he’s got himself a girlfriend.” Doug’s eyes brightened while he continued, “I see him coming and going from the nurse’s office all the time. He don’t strike me as being sick.”

“So, you think the reading lessons might be coming to a end?”

Scott wanted the old Margie back in the worst sort of way. She hadn’t been going to the dances. She was too busy studying her reading or writing, or whatever the hell she was studying. She was spending her time in some La-La Land fantasy that he couldn’t comprehend.

What he could understand was how he felt about her. Most men found her unattractive. Not him. She had the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen. He fell in love with those eyes the first time he’d looked into them. They were filled with kindness and compassion. He was most certain that there was a passion inside that woman that was waiting to claw its way to the surface.

Enough was enough. It was time for a reality check. It was time to put some distance between her and the so-called “beautiful people” that were trying to pervert her. No time like the present, and even less to waste.

He reached down and scooped a stone from the floor. “They’ll be ending real soon,” he told Doug.

Margie leaned against the counter while waiting for her turn to order.

As it always was after morning workouts, the cafeteria was packed. At a corner table, old weathered retired jockeys smoked cigarettes and rubbed their arthritic knees while watching several exercise boys playing a game of pool near the door. The jukebox moaned an old Johnny Cash tune in the background.

Seriously?
Margie rolled her eyes at yet another old country tune. Halfway through the disgusted roll they fell upon Eric and Jen huddled over their cups of coffee at a corner table.
Hmmm.