Dinner at the Longhorn Saloon and Steakhouse proved to be a respite from the frozen dinners Lucinda often prepared for herself. And the fact that Harris seemingly held no grudge against her brightened her spirit. Because Harris, Eli, and Angel shared a common upbringing they were easy to be around and related funny remembrances that had Lucinda laughing often. She couldn't remember the last time she'd spent such a pleasant evening.
From across the room a pretty cowgirl approached Harris and asked for his autograph and he was gracious and charming to her. When Lucinda had received her new assignment, she had formed a stereotypical belief about rodeo stars being arrogant skirt chasers. But so far, Harris had proven to be just the opposite. Although friendly to the cowgirl, he didn't offer suggestive remarks or innuendos. And later, when a band started playing in the bar, the woman returned to ask him to dance. Lucinda watched the interaction with interest and almost gasped when Harris said, "Darlin', I'm sorry, but all my dances have been promised to this li'l lady." He motioned toward Lucinda.
Suddenly, Lucinda felt the need to clean her glasses; anything to distract herself from the sudden pounding of her heart and ensuing confusion. Harris' refusal to dance with the woman made no sense. She was tall, curvy, really pretty, and personable. The cowgirl glanced at Lucinda and smiled. She said, "Lucky lady," before returning to the elderly couple seated at her table.
Lucinda replaced her glasses and her eyes widened when Harris stood, held out his hand, and said, "Now, how about that dance?"
Dumbfounded, she stuttered, "Ah, I-I don't know how to western dance."
Harris' chocolate eyes twinkled. "Then it's about time you learned. I promise it's as easy as sliding off a greased horse."
Lucinda couldn't think of a nice way to refuse. She glanced at Angel and saw something so fleeting, she wondered if she'd imagined it. Was Angel envious or even jealous? She dismissed the thought. Angel was so stunningly beautiful and awesomely sweet, that she could have any man she wanted. And if she wanted Harris, surely it was a given she'd have him. No man could reject Angel. Lucinda placed her hand in Harris' and followed him to the dance floor, reasoning that it would be an excellent opportunity to apologize for her earlier behavior.
The band finished their song and the front man said, "Now let's slow things way down with this oldie but goodie, Rose of my Heart, by Johnny Cash." Harris paused on the outskirts of the dancers and placed his hands on Lucinda's waist. She glanced up into his beautiful eyes and her knees went weak. He was gorgeous. Lowering her gaze, she cleared her throat, pushed her eyeglasses higher on her nose, placed her hands lightly on his shoulders, fortified her courage, and said, "I want to apologize for my rude remarks this afternoon. There was no excuse–"
Harris interrupted. "You have the longest and thickest eyelashes I've ever seen. Does the trait run in your family?"
Lucinda was speechless. Never had she imagined she'd hear such a remark from Harris Brightman. Her response was, "Ah, yes. My mother has the same problem."
"Problem?" Harris chuckled low. "I've never heard of beautiful eyelashes being a problem."
"It is when you wear glasses."
Harris only said, "Hmm." A few seconds later he said, "Your apology about this afternoon is accepted, but like I told you at the time, it was my fault."
"But–"
He interrupted again, "No more apologies. In fact, let's not talk about it ever again."
Although Harris held Lucinda at a comfortable distance, she could feel his body heat consuming her. And when she had a sudden desire to step into that heat, she stiffened.
Harris paused in dancing to ask, "Do you want to keep rehashing today?"
Realizing that he had misunderstood her response, she quickly replied, "No. Not at all." To explain herself she continued, "I'm just not used to dancing and I'm sure you could find a better partner."
Harris laughed softly and pulled her into the heat that was driving her crazy. "No. I don't eat dinner with one woman and dance with another. And your dancing is just fine."
The song ended and when the drummer played a roll for the next one, the singer called out, "Ladies and gents, it's time for the C.C. Shuffle." He motioned to his female backup singer and grinned. "Maggie, how about some Shania Twain?"
The pretty, red-headed cowgirl dressed in a fringed and glittery jacket, stepped forward with her microphone and said huskily, "I got this boyfriend who keeps tellin' me he ain't no quitter. So I'm dedicating this song to him."
The crowd whooped when the music started and Maggie began singing. Lucinda stepped back, expecting they would return to their table, but Harris clasped her hand and said, "This is one of my favorite songs and dances." He then led her to the end of the line of dancers and said, "Here's how it's done."
By the time Maggie got to the chorus and sang, "I Ain't No Quitter," Lucinda was laughing as she tried to follow the dance steps.
Angel sipped her third glass of wine and drew doodles on the tablecloth. Beside her, Eli placed his fork and knife across his plate and sighed. "That steak was incredible. How was yours?"
"It was delicious." She didn't elaborate. Her mind was on Harris and Lucinda. In the four weeks she'd been working with Harris, this was the first time he'd seemed intrigued by a woman. He was always polite and endearing when approached by the ladies, some obviously pursuing him, but he never appeared overly interested. Maybe he'd asked Lucinda to dance because she was writing an article on him and he didn't want to muddy the waters after today's debacle. Maybe he was playing a game with her. Immediately, Angel rejected that thought. Harris never toyed with women's emotions. She glanced up to see Eli watching her. He said, "Angel, will you dance with me?"
"Of course." Whether she accepted his invitation because she wanted to keep an eye on Harris and Lucinda, or just because she enjoyed dancing, she wasn't quite sure. Maybe it was because she was feeling tipsy from the wine. She reached for her wineglass and downed the rest of it.
Eli held her elbow as he led her to the dance floor. She spotted Harris and Lucinda at the end of the line of dancers, but didn't have time to focus on them because Eli slipped one arm around her waist and held her hand with his other. The tune was lively and laughter from the dancers floated across the room. He said in her ear, "Do you want to join the line dance?"
She was feeling lightheaded. "No. Let's stay here." He paused to remove his glasses, place them in his pocket, and say, "Anything for an angel."
She giggled. "Eli, you're starting to sound like Harris. Before long you'll be his twin." When Eli didn't laugh or respond, she asked, "Did I say something wrong?"
He looked sad when he replied, "No," and started dancing.
The band switched to a slow tune and Angel stumbled. "Sorry, Eli."
He pulled her close. "I won't let you fall," he said against her ear.
Ah, that's so sweet. Angel swayed with the music and said, "I think I've had a little too much to drink." She laid her head on Eli's shoulder. They were barely moving their feet. She felt him nuzzle her hair and breathe in deeply.
"You have the most beautiful hair," he said low. "It's like a halo of golden light."
Angel giggled. "I never knew you were a poet."
"I didn't either until this moment."
She leaned her head back until she could see into his eyes. There was something dark and erotic in their smoky green depths. Sudden laughter from across the room interrupted the moment and she moved her head back to his shoulder.