Last's Temptation. Tina Leonard
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The house is empty, waiting for a happy family. Think about it,” he said, “a Texas ranch, a job in town—it’s the very image of stability.”
Curtis’s and Amelia’s eyes glowed.
“It’s not matrimony, but it would be a form of security. Mason is about to get roped into running for sheriff, I believe, by his dearest friend and enemy, Mimi.” Last shook his head. “I don’t know that Mason can worm out of Mimi’s grasp on this one. Other than my brother Bandera, who lives in the house next door with his crew, and my brother Calhoun, who lives below the windmill with his, there’s just horses, cows and sheep to liven up the days.”
Poppy had to admit the picture was a tempting one. “Cowboys,” she murmured.
“Nobody would mind you living there. Olivia—Calhoun’s wife—used to travel in a gig with her horse, Gypsy, and her father-in-law, who was a rodeo clown. Right up your alley, huh?”
Poppy hesitated. She wasn’t sure anymore what was “up her alley.” The children had changed her life. That was all she did know.
“What made you become a magician anyway?” he asked.
“My master’s thesis was about beliefs. Ninety percent of people want to believe in something magical. Good fortune of some kind,” she murmured. “I decided to test the theory.”
“So you’re in the circus because of your thesis?”
She looked at him thinking that he alone was enough to make a woman believe in good fortune. Strong-muscled and tall, the dip in the ocean had left his skin gleaming. She shivered. “I may pursue a doctorate one day. It’s good to collect more data. Can I make people believe?” An unwilling smile touched her lips. “You’re certainly a doubter.”
“Yeah, but I’m hardheaded by nature. I don’t want to believe in anything that I can’t rope or ride.”
Poppy nodded. “I understand. That’s how the majority of people sampled felt. Put, of course, in different terms than yours.”
“But I’m always up for an adventure,” he added with a devilish grin. “And that’s what I’m offering to you, Professor.”
She looked into his chocolate-brown eyes. “I don’t even know you.”
He grinned. “But don’t you feel the magic?”
Curtis and Amelia looked up at her. “Do you?” Curtis asked.
“Aunt Poppy?” Amelia said.
Goose pimples raised on her arms. “Children, it’s time to go. The sun is setting, and that means a bit of a chill this time of year. Goodbye, Mr. Jefferson. Good luck to you on your adventures.”
She escaped, her heart pounding. Oh, she had felt the magic.
It was the one thing she never wanted to feel again.
Chapter Two
“It’s okay to be a fake,” Poppy said under her breath as she and the children walked up a small set of steps to get to her car.
She didn’t believe in real magic any more than Last Jefferson did. She only believed in the kind she could produce under the big top, wearing a foxy bikini, a skirt with sequins and some fishnets.
The children should never know. They clung to her stories of magic, believing in fairy princesses and air-hung castles and all good things that could be found if one just wished for them.
“I could be wrong,” she said, “but it seems appropriate to encourage imagination and creativity in you two. What else are myths, fairy tales and legends for?”
Curtis and Amelia looked up at her, their dear faces round and sweet. Poppy just wanted Curtis and Amelia to have the joy of being children.
Drat the cowboy for making her wonder if reality would be better for them. Esme indeed.
“I am certain Mr. Jefferson just recited some cowboy tall tales to us,” she said. “Perhaps he doesn’t even live on a ranch. Why would a true cowboy want to fly off a cliff?”
Amelia’s eyes widened. “The same reason someone wants to walk on the moon?”
Poppy shook her head. “I do believe the gentleman was yanking our chains. Let’s forget about him.”
“I’ve never met a real cowboy before,” Curtis said. “I wonder if he has a holster.”
“Oh.” Poppy crossed the street, protectively watching for traffic. “Westerns are not reality.”
“But when John Wayne—”
“We know,” Amelia said impatiently. “No more discussions about the genius of John Wayne, Curtis.”
Poppy stopped when they were on the opposite corner of the street. She glanced down at her niece and nephew. “It may be time for you two to be enrolled in public school.”
They looked at her.
“Why?” Curtis asked. Amelia stared silently.
“Because. We may have veered too far into the land of make-believe. It’s possible that the judge is right.”
“You called him an old goat,” Curtis reminded her.
She sighed, regretting the moment of her quick tongue filing its nervous complaint. “I did. But he may be right about the stability issue.”
“Why?” Amelia asked. “You said stability was for people who accepted that adventure was dead. That fortune wasn’t built nor determined by people who wouldn’t take a chance.”
“True, but I may be working on a new hypothesis. Children who are taught the realities of life do not end up flying from cliffs.”
Their eyes went wide.
Poppy shrugged. “It’s something to consider. And I must always consider your welfare, first and foremost.” She squeezed their hands. “Kids, look. I have no experience as a mother. I don’t even know what I’m doing. It’s possible the judge has reason to be concerned about the way I’m raising you.” What was so great about life under a big top or on a stage anyway?
It could be time to stop doing research. She’d made a lot of people believe in her magic. She’d proven to herself that people did want to believe, if only for the moment, and that taking their cares away for a while was a gift. Maybe that was the only magic she could really believe in. “And it could be that your mother wouldn’t have wanted you to live such a bohemian lifestyle.”
“Excuse me, for the last time,” she heard from behind her. “I swear.”
The cowboy had followed her and the children across the street. Bare-chested still. Her breath left her. If he was a stalker, he was a very handsome one.
“I need to clarify one thing,” Last said. “Just in case you ever decide to take me up on my offer.”
“I won’t.”
“I’m not planning on being around there much, at least for a while,” he admitted.
She gazed at him.
“If I’m the reason you might not consider it, that is.”
“I don’t know that the judge would approve of us picking up and leaving the state at this time. Also, my parents really need me—or at least I tell myself they do.”
Last nodded. “I understand. And to tell you the truth, while life on a ranch can be stable, we Jeffersons do not have a reputation for stability.”
She put a hand on her hip. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”
“But the ranch is in a town populated by very nice characters. Again, something to consider, just in case you change your mind. It’s the Jefferson ranch in Union Junction, Texas, better known