The Swinging R Ranch: The Swinging R Ranch / Whose Line Is It Anyway?. Debbi Rawlins

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      Max smiled. “No, I’m going to let you look into it for me.”

      She glanced up before taking the call. “God, you’re so predictable.”

      He was about to make a crack when she answered the phone, her tone crisp and businesslike. If he knew Taylor, he wouldn’t be getting rid of her soon, so he thought about hopping into the shower. And then he heard her mention Nevada.

      He shook his head with a half smile. Of course she was already on the case. Probably had had her calls forwarded. She was efficient, if nothing else.

      “Isn’t there anyone besides Mr. Southby who can help me regarding a letter he sent out on the fifth?” she asked into the receiver. “When do you expect him?”

      After a brief pause, she said, “It’s the middle of the week. He can’t just go fishing and not say what day he’ll be back.” Taylor’s expression tightened. “That’s not good enough. I need someone to help me now.”

      Max checked a grin. It was really too bad about Taylor and him. There was so much to like about her. Yet the lack of chemistry was the least of their problems. As an attorney she could be a pit bull, which was good. But as a life partner, he needed someone who wasn’t so ambitious, someone more fun-loving and adventurous, like himself. And if she had her own trust fund, all the better.

      “Yes, regarding the Swinging R Ranch. I’m Mr. Bennett’s attorney, and we’re somewhat confused about the lack of inventory outlined in Mr. Southby’s letter, or maybe livestock is a better word. Anyway—”

      Her sudden silence drew his wary attention. He looked up at her stunned face.

      “Would you please repeat that?” Color slowly tinted her cheeks. She visibly swallowed. “I see.” Then she cleared her throat, and he could tell she wanted to laugh. “I’ll be sure and tell him. Uh-huh. Yes, I will. Oh, I suspect he’ll be arriving in Bingo within a few days.”

      He frowned as their gazes met. She couldn’t mean him.

      Her sudden grin told him otherwise. “Thank you for your help, Mrs. Crabtree.” She hung up the phone, not even trying to hide her amusement.

      Whatever foolishness she was up to, he wasn’t in the mood. Only one thing interested him. “Is the ranch profitable?”

      “Oh, I suspect it might be.”

      “And?”

      “Congratulations, Mr. Bennett.” Taylor struggled to stifle a laugh. “You’re the proud owner of an honest-to-goodness, legal-as-a-copper-penny brothel.”

      “GOOD EVENING, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the Abby Cunningham for Mayor dinner. Of course, as you all know, I’m Cabby Anningham.” Letting out a shriek of disgust, Abby made a face at her tired reflection in the bathroom mirror.

      She’d known most of the people who’d be at the dinner since she’d started toddling around Bingo twenty-five years ago. How she could still get so nervous and tongue-tied was beyond her comprehension.

      Her stomach in knots, she padded out of the bathroom, into her bedroom and headed straight for the dish of peanut M&M’s sitting on her dresser. Chocolate wouldn’t cure her nerves. In fact, she’d probably end up with a face full of zits for the dinner tomorrow night, but right now, those little suckers were the only things that would get her through this rehearsal.

      She still had to decide whether to wear her hair up in a more sophisticated style, like maybe a French twist, or leave it long and loose to her shoulders the way she always wore it. The people of Bingo tended to favor familiarity, but Abby wasn’t sure how much her age was a deterrent. Twenty-six was awfully young to be mayor. Even if her father had held the office for three terms, as did his father before him.

      After carefully sorting four red candies from the rest of the colors, she sank to her bed, leaned back against the pillows and started popping the M&M’s into her mouth. She’d eat the green ones next, and then the rest in no particular order. It wasn’t that she was superstitious exactly, but she saw no point in changing her habits now.

      “Abby…yoo-hoo. Abby, I’m home.”

      At the sound of her grandmother’s voice, Abby bolted upright and slid the dish of candy into her underwear drawer. She swallowed the last M&M whole, then cleared her throat. “I’m in my room, Gramms.”

      Estelle Cunningham instantly appeared in the doorway. Her smile faded, her gaze narrowed, and she sniffed the air. “I smell chocolate.”

      “In here?” Abby laughed. “You’re imagining things. Do you think I should wear my hair up or down tomorrow night?” She twisted it up and sent her grandmother a questioning look.

      Gramms brushed past her, sniffing, and went unerringly to the dresser drawer. Abby’s only hope now was that the ill-favored peanut variety she’d purposely bought would discourage Gramms.

      “Really, Abby, you shouldn’t mix these with your unmentionables.” Estelle sat on the bed with the dish on her lap, scooped out an orange-colored one and carefully nibbled the coating and chocolate off the nut. “You know, maybe that’s how someone thought to invent those edible panties. Do you suppose? I think they’re called Candies, or some such thing.”

      “How do you know about that?” Abby frowned. “You’ve been hanging around those women at the Swinging R again, haven’t you?” She grabbed the dish of M&M’s. “And no more of these. Doctor’s orders.”

      “You have no business talking to my doctor, Abigail. No business at all. You forget who’s the grandmother here.” She shook her snow-white head and briefly eyed the candy before directing her stern blue gaze at Abby. “And don’t let me hear you referring to the ladies of the Swinging R as those women again. Shame on you. Why, Rosie, Mona and Candy have all contributed handsomely to your campaign fund, young lady.”

      Sighing, Abby sat beside her grandmother and patted her age-spotted hand. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. It’s not that I don’t appreciate their support, but I don’t think it’s appropriate for them to be passing out gift certificates for future services at the Ranch.”

      “Why not? The gift certificates are separate from the ‘Vote for Abby’ flyer. They’re stapled together but we were very careful not to make it sound like a bribe.”

      “We? You haven’t been…Oh, Gramms.” Slumping, Abby dug into the bowl and popped candies into her mouth without regard to color. Why bow to superstition? Her career was probably over anyway.

      Estelle chuckled. “You young people think everything is such a big deal, that the whole world is going to come to an end if one little thing goes out of whack in your life.” Her smile gentled, reminding Abby so much of her father that it made her chest ache with fresh grief. At forty-eight, her parents had been too young to die. But the driver of the speeding semitruck hadn’t taken that into consideration.

      “I know you disapprove of the Swinging R,” Estelle continued, “but brothels are legal in this county and the place is practically an institution. Folks don’t mind having the ladies around. They’ve always contributed to the community just like everyone else.”

      Abby decided to keep further comment to herself. There was no point in upsetting her grandmother. СКАЧАТЬ