Lone Star Holiday Proposal. Yvonne Lindsay
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with a total stranger. A look that left her feeling things she had no right to feel. Raina dragged her attention back to the disaster at hand and searched around for something to offer the man to help him clean up.
The only pieces of fabric she had close by were a set of handmade lace doilies from the early twentieth century. She certainly couldn’t afford to lose inventory, but then again, nor could she afford to lose a potential customer either.
JJ turned his little face up to hers. His blue eyes, so like her own, filled with tears that began to spill down his still-chubby cheeks. His lower lip began to quiver. He dropped what was left of his cone on the floor and ran to her, burying his face in her maxi skirt as if he could make himself invisible.
“Hey, no harm done,” the man said, his voice slightly gruff and at odds with his words.
Raina definitely noticed a hint of Texas drawl as she glanced from her son to the customer, who, despite that initial look of shock, now appeared unfazed by the incident. He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out an honest-to-God white handkerchief. Was that a monogram in the corner? Raina didn’t think they had such things anymore.
“I’m so sorry, sir. Here, let me,” she started, reaching for the cotton square.
“Might be best if I handle this myself,” the man replied.
Oh, heavens, she was such an idiot. Of course he’d have to handle it himself. It was his groin, after all. She had no business touching any man’s trousers, let alone there. She gently set JJ to one side and got busy picking up the cone that he’d dropped on the floor, gathering the sticky mess in her left hand.
“JJ, can you go fetch me the tea towel that’s hanging up in the kitchen?” she asked her son. “And no running!”
It was too late. JJ raced away as if he couldn’t wait to put distance between himself and the mess he’d created.
“Kids, huh?”
The stranger finally smiled and Raina looked up at him—really looked this time—and felt a punch of attraction all the way to the tips of her toes. Before she could answer, JJ was back and, ridiculously glad of the distraction, Raina used the cloth to wipe up the residue from the floor and then wrapped up the cone in the towel to deal with later. Her customer had likewise dealt with the mess on his trousers.
“See, all cleaned up,” he said, rolling up the handkerchief and shoving it in his pocket again.
Raina cringed at the cost of getting all that fine tailoring back into pristine condition again. “But the stain. Please, let me get your suit dry cleaned for you.”
“No, seriously, it’s no bother. Is this your boy? JJ is it?”
She nodded and watched as the man squatted down so he was at eye level with JJ, who had cautiously turned his head around when he’d heard his name. She couldn’t help but notice how the fabric of the stranger’s trousers caught snugly across his thighs and, despite hastily averting her gaze, she also couldn’t stop the disconcerting rush of acute feminine awareness that welled inside her.
“Hey, JJ, no harm done, except to your ice cream. I’m sorry about that, champ.” When Raina started to protest that he had nothing to be sorry for, he merely put up one hand and kept his attention on her little boy. “Are you okay?”
JJ nodded.
“But you lost your ice cream. Maybe I can talk to your mommy about buying you another one. Would you like that?”
Again Raina went to protest but the man shot her a glance and a smile that made her hush. As embarrassed as she was by what had happened, she found herself prepared to follow his lead.
JJ nodded again and the man put out one hand. “Good,” he said with another smile. “Sounds like we have a deal. You want to shake on that?”
Raina felt a tug of pride as her son extended his grubby little hand to be engulfed in the stranger’s much larger one. But pride was soon overtaken by something else as she noticed the man’s hands. They were tanned and broad, with long fingers and neatly kept nails. Definitely an office worker, she surmised, and not from around here, but—oh boy—there was that swell of attraction again. What on earth was wrong with her? After Jeb, she’d sworn off men. She couldn’t trust her own judgment anymore.
The man rose to his full height, which dwarfed Raina’s own five foot seven by a good several inches. He held out his hand toward her.
“Nolan Dane, pleased to meet you.”
Automatically Raina took his hand but realized her mistake the moment she did so. A sharp tingle of electricity sizzled up her arm the second their palms met.
“I... I’m R-Raina. Raina Patterson.”
She groaned inwardly. Great, now she sounded like a complete idiot. Her heart skittered in her chest as she noticed he was still holding her hand. She gently pulled free and fought the urge to rub her palm on the fabric of her skirt. “Welcome to my store, Priceless. Were you looking for something in particular? Perhaps I can help you,” she asked, forcing herself to put her business voice on.
* * *
His first reaction to her had been instant, visceral and totally unexpected. Now Nolan could barely tear his eyes from her. She looked so much like his dead wife, Carole, it was uncanny. Her shoulder-length hair was the same shade of glossy brown that hovered between dark chocolate and rich espresso. She had the same shape of chin and brows. But it was only once he looked more closely at her that he saw the differences that set them apart.
The woman before him now wore only a bare minimum of makeup, letting her natural beauty shine, whereas Carole had been so caught up in projecting the right appearance that even he had rarely seen her without makeup on. Even at breakfast. Carole’s argument had been that while he’d comfortably slipped into a law practice with his father, she’d had a harder road to travel, proving herself against the good ol’ boys in one of Maverick County’s corporate law firms. She’d needed all the armor she could get.
But there was something in the way that Ms. Patterson carried herself, too, and the sweetly serene smile she wore, that continued to remind him of his late wife. Raina presented a strong and untroubled facade to the world. A facade that he already knew hid a vulnerability that had been evident in her hesitant introduction and which had appealed to the protector in him with surprising force.
Hell no, he reminded himself forcibly. No matter how much she fascinated him, he absolutely couldn’t go there. Women like Raina Patterson were completely out of bounds. Even if she wasn’t married—which she probably was—she had a kid, and he had strict rules about not complicating his life any further. He’d already had his heart torn out and shredded to pieces once and he would bear those scars for the rest of his life. Dating was strictly for brief respites—and this woman did not look like the type for a quick roll in the sheets followed by an even quicker farewell.
“Thank you,” he said, finally pulling himself together. “I just came to look around, to be honest. The Courtyard hasn’t been operating long, has it?”
“No, not terribly long. It stopped being a working ranch a few years ago. The ongoing drought forced the original owners to sell and the new owners, the Winslows, came up with the idea to convert it to shops and studios. It’s helped a lot of us get back on our feet after the tornado.”
Nolan nodded as he processed the information and matched it up with what he knew already. “And you’re selling antiques here?”
“Yes, and running craft classes out back. My first one is tonight. Would you be interested in signing on for a lesson in candle making? They’re going to be a hot gift item for Christmas this year in Royal.”
She laughed softly and, unexpectedly, he delighted in the sound. It was refreshing. Genuine amusement wasn’t often heard in the circles in which he moved, at least not without some malice in it somewhere.
“I’ll take a rain check,” he said with a wink, and he