Woman on the Run (new version) Page 22

  Julia looked around for Alice and spotted her in the magazine section, talking with a young blonde woman. Alice caught Julia’s eye and waved, grinning. Julia walked over.

  “Hey, Julia.” Alice shifted her magazines to free an arm. “Meet Mary Ferguson. She’s new to the area, too. She lives in Dead Horse. Mary, this is Sally Andersen, our new grade school teacher in Simpson. That’s about 20 miles away.”

  “Hi, Mary.” Julia shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.” Mary Ferguson looked to be Alice’s age, or maybe a year or two older. She shared Alice’s blonde, wholesome looks.

  “Hi, Sally.” The young blonde smiled. “It’s sure nice to meet another newcomer. It seems not too many people move out here. So you live in Simpson too. What’s Simpson like?”

  Julia thought that over. “Quiet.”

  “Oh.” Mary looked downcast. “That’s not too good. No lawsuits, no divorces?”

  “Ahm…” Julia bit back a smile. “Not lately. You on the lookout for lawsuits and divorces?”

  “I sure am.” Mary grinned and pressed a card in Julia’s hand. “If you need legal advice, I’m your woman.” Julia noticed that Alice held a similar card in her hand.

  Curious, Julia looked it over. It was cheap cardboard and had Mary Ferguson, Attorney-at-Law printed on it. “There’s no address,” Julia said. “Just a telephone number.”

  “It’s an answering service in Dead Horse. I’ll get an office just as soon as I get a client or two. In the meantime, I’m living in a rented room. I just passed the state bar exam this summer and I didn’t want to work with my father’s law firm. He’s got a big one in Boise and he always just assumed…well, I guess he thought that I would automatically want to work for him. But if I start out with him, I’ll never know if I’m any good or not. So I decided to open my own practice. But my graduating class was the largest class of law graduates ever and there are no openings at all in the Boise area. So I decided to take the scientific approach and studied the lawyer-to-population ratio in the whole state and this part of the state has the lowest. But,” she added sadly, “I’m beginning to see why.”

  “Well, that’s—” Julia hardly knew what to say, “that’s a—a novel approach.”

  “Those are my dad’s very words,” Mary said glumly, “only he used ‘stupid’ instead of ‘novel’.”

  “I’m starting a new business, too,” Alice said. “Only I don’t have business cards.” She caught Julia’s eye and grinned. “Yet.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Mary turned friendly eyes onto Alice. “What kind of business?”

  “A retro ‘50s diner,” Alice said proudly. “And sometime soon, I’ll have an inauguration. Maybe at the next meeting of the Rupert Ladies’ Association.”

  “There’s a Rupert Ladies’ Association?” Mary brightened and took an enormous planner out of her purse. She pulled the pen from its slot and laboriously filled in a page. “Rupert Ladies’ Association,” she said as she wrote, then looked up. “That’s great. I’ll join immediately. Who knows if there’s an unhappy wife who wants to file for divorce? Or someone got run over and wants to sue. Do you know when the next meeting will be held?”

  “Oh,” Alice said airily, “Sometime in the next ten days.”

  “Okay. I think I could fit it in.” Mary started flipping importantly through her planner. Julia was amused to see that most of the pages were blank. Mary’s pen hovered. “Who should I contact?”

  “Karen Lindberger. She’s in the Rupert phonebook.”

  Mary was diligently writing the name down, then looked up at Alice. “And what’s the name of your new diner?”

  “Carly’s—no.” Alice bit her lip and looked pleadingly at Julia. “I don’t want it to have the same name. What will we call it?”

  “Well, that’s not a problem,” Julia said. “It seems rather obvious to me what it should be called.” She hummed the first few bars of “Alice’s Restaurant”, and looked expectantly at Alice and Mary.

  They looked blankly back.

  Julia knew she didn’t have much of a voice. She hummed the bars again and sighed when the two girls’ smiles started looking strained. They stared at her, looking for all the world like two very confused blonde puppies. Well, they were younger than she was and they didn’t share her penchant for ‘70s movies. Of course they didn’t recognize the song. Julia suddenly felt ancient.

  “Ohhh-kaaay,” she breathed. “How about…how about the ‘Out to Lunch’?”

  “Out to Lunch.” Alice’s eyes were gleaming. “Oh, that’s wonderful!” She all but clasped her hands over her heart. “Oh, Sally, you’re so smart. However do you think of these things?”

  “It’s a knack,” Julia said.

  The gun wasn’t important, the camera was.

  You didn’t need a Dirty Harry .44 Magnum to take out Julia Devaux. Any Saturday night special would do. As it happened, the professional had purchased, perfectly legally, a Model 60 Smith and Wesson two hours after landing at Boise airport. It was snubby, with a 2-inch barrel, and it only carried five shots, but that was fine. Two shots would do it.

  The gun had been purchased with one of the professional’s deeper identities. The bullets would go to the ballistics lab, the gun would be tracked down and a trace put on the identity. The professional had created a character three layers deep, with cross-referenced credit ratings, an impressive educational background and even a few awards for public service from two local Chambers of Commerce in two different states. The professional had had a lot of fun with the wording of the citations.

  The cops would go crazy.

  And by the time the first underpaid lab assistant examined the bullets, the professional would be lifting an ice-cold margarita on the sundeck of the beach house.

  No, the gun wasn’t of any importance whatsoever. What was important was the camera. After much hard deliberation, the professional had settled on a Canon EOS Rebel with an 18.0 Megapixel CMOS (APS-C) sensor and 14-bit A/D conversion. Guaranteed to take clear shots in any light, each shot with a date stamp. That was important.

  Santana was an animal and when he’d specified Julia Devaux’s head, he meant exactly that. The professional could just imagine Santana in some garage, recently sprung from prison, gloating over Julia Devaux’s head. He would probably have it mounted.

  But there was no way on earth that the professional could travel across the country with a human head. Thus, something else was necessary to convince Santana that the job was done.

  The professional had it all planned, down to the finest detail. First the incapacitating shot to the shoulder, taking timed pictures, then putting the camera on automatic as the professional put the gun to Julia Devaux’s head and pulled the trigger. And the final photograph.

  A headshot of a head shot, the professional thought with satisfaction. I like it.

  Cooper was seriously annoyed by the time he made it to Carly’s late Sunday afternoon. It had been a harrowing week.

  Sure, he’d got a lot of business done and had bought fifteen very promising foals, but he hadn’t had a spare minute. He was up before dawn each day to watch the training sessions, busy all day with the annual conference, out to dinner talking business until very late every evening. The only time he had free to call Sally was early in the morning but that was 3 a.m. her time.

  Then a freak storm in Lexington had delayed his flight out until Sunday morning. Cooper spent the day grimly battling his way across the country from airport to airport with only one thought in mind—getting back home and getting back to Sally.

  He’d missed her fiercely. The nights had been the worst part. He’d spent every night with an iron hard-on thinking of her, wishing with every cell of his being that he was back in bed with her.

  Bernie had kept him informed via e-mail about what was going on in Simpson. How Sally was helping Alice redecorate the diner and how Sally, Alice, Chuck, Matt, Glenn and Maisie were working on the diner over the weekend. Cooper had e-mailed back, directing Bernie and as
many of the men who could be spared to give a hand. He’d ordered all the old horse troughs to be taken out, cleaned with steam hoses, sanded and brought to the diner.

  But he’d been champing at the bit the whole time, frustrated that he wasn’t there to help. Frustrated that he wasn’t with Sally.

  Cooper finally made it to the ranch by five in the afternoon, quickly showered and changed into work clothes. He broke the speed limit into Simpson. It didn’t matter because there wasn’t anyone around to arrest him. Chuck was at the diner.

  It was after six by the time he walked into Carly’s.

  And there she was.

  Cooper’s eyes were immediately drawn to the tall stepladder in the corner. Sally was precariously perched on the top rung, arms outstretched to reach the top corner. She was doing something complicated with a roller. Cooper couldn’t tell what, but the effect sure was pretty. The walls were pale blue. Around the top of the wall near the ceiling was a pretty light green leaf stenciling. If it had been explained to him in words, he wouldn’t have understood it. But it was very attractive.

  Sally had haunted his thoughts and even his dreams while he was in Kentucky and it wasn’t just sexual obsession. Whatever it was, it was real because his heart picked up speed when he saw her. She was dressed in work clothes—faded jeans and an old shirt, but they couldn’t disguise the slender, elegant lines of her body. He wanted her with ferocious intensity, but there was more to it than that.

  He was a horse breeder and he knew all about the sexual pull the female has on the male of any species, horse or human. It had been over two years since he’d felt the pull, but it was as strong as any he’d seen in his stallions. So it was sex, sure, but also something more. Much more.

  He wanted to fuck her, but it went further than that. He wanted her around, all the time. He wanted to tell her about his week. He wanted her to redecorate his house—hell, redecorate his life—like she was redecorating Alice’s diner.

  Something about the atmosphere in the diner was already different. The sad air of despair was gone. It was a miracle. The dusty old diner that he’d known for as long as he could remember was gone forever.

  And good riddance. He could hardly count the number of heartburns he’d had thanks to Carly and Alice. And if Maisie Kellogg was handling the cooking end of it, they’d all be fine and not risk ptomaine poisoning.

  Alice was flitting about like a hummingbird, looking focused and happy. Chuck was busily hammering nails into a two by four held by a serious-looking Matt. Loren and Beth were wiping plates. Cooper was satisfied to see that Bernie and his men were being useful. Rafael and Fred were scampering around happily, getting in everyone’s way.

  Glenn and Maisie were there, too, Maisie dressed in her cleaning clothes with a red bandanna around her hair. They all looked transformed and energized. Alice, Chuck, Matt, Glenn, Maisie. Even Bernie and Rafael were looking happier than two weeks before.

  And all because of Sally.

  Cooper watched her up on the stepladder, stirred to the bottom of his soul because he knew that he was being transformed by Sally, too. Turned into someone better and happier just like she was turning the diner into a better and happier place.

  Cooper stood a moment, trying to get a grip on all the unfamiliar emotions washing through him. They were clean and powerful and brand-new. He was brand-new.

  She had fixed his broken window.

  Chapter Fifteen

  When Julia tired of painting, all she had to do was think of Cooper and she’d get new energy in her painting arm by picturing slapping the paint all over him.

  She’d missed Cooper with a ferocity that shocked her.

  The nights were the worst. To her amazement, she missed the sex. Julia had never thought of herself as a particularly sensual woman, but a few nights with Cooper proved how quickly you could get addicted to good sex.

  Not even good sex, really. Cooper wasn’t much on foreplay, preferring instead to get straight down to business. No matter. Her body didn’t care at all. The instant he started moving in her, she started moving towards orgasm. It was like reaching some erotic zone, where she would just have orgasm after orgasm. Santana, the danger she was in, Simpson—all her problems just fled her mind in an explosion of climaxes.

  When she was with Cooper, there was no thought of anything but the wild, heart-stopping pleasure he gave her.

  These past nights without him had been terrifying. She’d spent the evenings rattling around alone in the little house, unable to settle down to anything, waiting until it was time to go to bed, dreading it. Bed time was when the horror started.

  She’d had a nightmare every single night. Around three every morning, she’d wake up, heart pounding, disoriented, dry-mouthed and terrified. It was getting so she was scared to fall asleep, because that’s when the monsters came for her.

  And that was when she missed Cooper with an intensity which was almost as terrifying as the nightmares. It was scary to want someone that much.

  Be back Friday, he’d said. Hah! she thought, pushing down violently on the paint roller, easing up again when she saw she was spattering.

  She’d started waiting for Cooper with a deep sense of anticipation already early Friday afternoon, when she and Alice and Maisie had started going over the plans. She’d look up expectantly every time the diner door opened, only to be disappointed. Bernie, Chuck, Glenn, Loren, Matt, even Fred had all crossed the threshold and each time a man approached, her heart leapt into her throat. And then sunk back to her heels.

  All day Saturday while they’d worked on the diner, she’d been in a state of expectant tension, making excuses for him in her head.

  The flight was delayed. He was tied up at the ranch. He’d been kidnapped by aliens.

  A hundred times, she’d turned to Bernie, the question burning on the tip of her tongue--where’s Cooper? But she was embarrassed and anyway, she didn’t want to hear the answer. What if it was—Coop’s back at the ranch, but too busy to make it into town?

  And what was so special about Cooper, anyway? Why should she care about him? He wasn’t handsome and he certainly wasn’t charming. He was—

  “Cooper?” she whispered. She was reaching for the last bit in the corner to stencil the wainscoting when there he was at the bottom of the ladder—as if her thinking of him had suddenly conjured him up out of thin air.

  He was looking stern, as always. With his dark skin, high cheekbones and midnight-black hair he looked a little like an Incan god. She stared at him for a moment, taking in his impassive features.

  The paint was dripping, destroying an afternoon’s work. She lunged to catch the pale blue drops and overbalanced. The stepladder tilted and she felt herself falling.

  “Cooper!” she screamed.

  “Right here.” His voice was low and deep and calm as he stretched up and caught her by the waist. His grip was gentle but strong. Julia let the roller drop to the floor as she instinctively braced her hands on his broad shoulders. As easily as if he were lifting a can of coffee down from the shelf, he lifted her off the ladder and let her slide slowly down the length of his body.

  Julia could feel his strength permeate her entire being. It was as if the world—the universe—suddenly stilled and she and Cooper were the only people left on the planet. His face above her filled her entire field of vision. Julia reluctantly dropped her hands from his shoulders as her feet touched the floor and aligned her arms along his as he held her waist. Her hands clutched his rock-hard biceps for balance.

  Everything suddenly came into alignment, as if that missing piece from the heart of her world had suddenly slotted into place. He was inscrutable and impassive and silent and she had been impatiently waiting for eight days for him to show up. With an almost painful jolt, she realized that she was falling in love with Cooper.

  “You’re back,” she said breathlessly, stupidly.

  “Yeah.”

  She tried to read his face, but couldn’t. All she could see was t
hat he was in the grip of some strong emotion, but she couldn’t begin to decipher which one. His eyes glittered and the skin was stretched tautly over his sharp cheekbones.

  “When did you get back?”

  “’Bout an hour ago.”

  “I thought—I thought you said you were coming back on Friday.” Julia knew that she should release Cooper’s biceps and step back but she couldn’t make herself do it.

  “Had a meeting. Flight was delayed. Had a hard time getting back.”

  “Well, I’m…glad you’re back.”

  His jaw tightened. “Glad to be back.”

  “We’re redecorating here, did you know?”

  “Heard that. E-mailed Bernie.”

  Julia was finally able to smile. She’d almost forgotten his laconic way of speaking. “I guess you left all your pronouns back in Kentucky,” she said.

  “Guess so.” One side of Cooper’s hard mouth kicked up in a smile. Funny, Julia had never really noticed what a beautiful mouth he had. His large hands tightened on her and he stared at her for long moments, his gaze roving over her face, finally settling on her mouth. Then he slowly bent his head.

  Julia could feel his body heat all over, she could feel his arms under her hands, his long thighs aligned with hers. Julia’s eyes started to close and she rose on tiptoe.

  “Oof!” Julia was knocked sideways as Fred launched himself at Cooper and only Cooper’s quick reactions kept her on her feet. Fred was wriggling with happiness, woofing and trying to lick them both.

  Half a dozen people were watching them with interest. At Cooper’s glare, Chuck coughed into his fist and turned away and the others drifted off, like spectators after the show.

  “Maybe you should brand her, Coop,” Bernie said to Cooper with a grin. “That way there’d be no mistake.” He lifted his hands at Cooper’s snarl. “Just a thought, boss. Just a thought.”