Read Online Razzmatazz-DDL by Patricia Burroughs - Free Book Online
Authors: Patricia Burroughs
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going to need a vacation to get over my vacation.”
“My dear Kennie, you are as refreshing as a gust of sweet Texas air.”
“The only time the air is sweet where I live is when a tornado has just blown through.”
“How appropriate.” He reached for the telephone. “More ambrosia punch?”
He ducked before the sofa pillow hit him, but his low chuckle followed her until she locked the bathroom door.
The room was a shambles. One white terry robe hung on a brass hook mounted on the wall; the other was a damp mound on the floor. One gray argyle sock dangled from the tub faucet; the other formed an overgrown dust ball in the comer. Tepid bathwater still filled the immense marble tub. Her makeup case had been opened and rifled; peach-and-silver bottles of Lady Ambrosia products lined the marble countertop, a plethora of plastic in a crystal palace.
“Of all the nerve,” she muttered, then re-capped the bubble bath and gathered the other bottles back into their respective pockets. She glanced up and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, a startling flash of color in a beige room. “Worse than something the cat dragged in,” she grumbled, brushing at her wrinkled skirt and tugging at the bodice, which barely covered her now that two buttons were missing.
But it was the expression on her face that stopped her cold. She didn’t look like someone who’d spent two days of chasing around town. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes dancing, and if she were forced to, she’d have to admit that her blood was racing. Dared she admit it? She could spend another night partying and not even mind it...with Alex Carruthers at her side.
Just the thought of it sent a tremor of apprehension through her. She glanced uneasily down at her dress, not a designer original or even a copy of a designer original. Get hold of yourself, Kennie. You’re out of your league.
A sharp rap sounded. “What do you want for dessert? Would you rather have strawberry cheesecake or chocolate mousse?”
Even his voice made her jumpy. She met her own dismayed stare in the mirror, and decided that there was only one way to cope.
“Both.”
~o0o~
After room service arrived, Kennie lounged on the sofa, her bare feet tucked under her. Alex sat in an armchair, their full-course dinner spread before them on the cocktail table.
Alex had choked on a bite of steak, and it took a moment for him to recover. “Barrel racing?” His incredulous gaze left a burning trail as it raked over her slender build. “On a horse?”
“Of course,” she remarked impatiently. “Where else?” She took another sip of her iced tea. A drop slid down the side of the goblet and fell onto her kelly-green slacks. She blotted it with her napkin.
“I can’t picture you in a rodeo,” Alex insisted, obviously fascinated.
“I never was very good at it.” She raised her shoulders in a shrug, biting back a giggle. “In fact, when I was fifteen I fell off the horse and broke my leg. Rusk drove like a maniac to get me to Doc Sutler’s and back to the stockyards in time for the pageant.” She laughed at the memory. “Do you know, I won that pageant even with my leg in a cast? Rodeo queen when I was only a sophomore. There were some mamas ready to lynch the judges that night. Of course, all the girls said the judges just felt sorry for me—”
Catching Alex’s amused expression, she broke off, self-conscious. “Well, Tahoka Springs is a small place,” she said, toying with her napkin, “and little things like that mean a lot.”
“You must have been a stunning rodeo queen,” Alex asserted smoothly. “Even in a cast.”
Try as she might, she couldn’t tell whether he was teasing or serious, but she decided she didn’t much care. “I know I was a sight—my jeans leg was split clear up to my hip to make room for the cast.” Kennie slathered butter on her third roll. “This dinner is absolutely wonderful, even though I don’t think I’ll ever be able to
“My dear Kennie, you are as refreshing as a gust of sweet Texas air.”
“The only time the air is sweet where I live is when a tornado has just blown through.”
“How appropriate.” He reached for the telephone. “More ambrosia punch?”
He ducked before the sofa pillow hit him, but his low chuckle followed her until she locked the bathroom door.
The room was a shambles. One white terry robe hung on a brass hook mounted on the wall; the other was a damp mound on the floor. One gray argyle sock dangled from the tub faucet; the other formed an overgrown dust ball in the comer. Tepid bathwater still filled the immense marble tub. Her makeup case had been opened and rifled; peach-and-silver bottles of Lady Ambrosia products lined the marble countertop, a plethora of plastic in a crystal palace.
“Of all the nerve,” she muttered, then re-capped the bubble bath and gathered the other bottles back into their respective pockets. She glanced up and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, a startling flash of color in a beige room. “Worse than something the cat dragged in,” she grumbled, brushing at her wrinkled skirt and tugging at the bodice, which barely covered her now that two buttons were missing.
But it was the expression on her face that stopped her cold. She didn’t look like someone who’d spent two days of chasing around town. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes dancing, and if she were forced to, she’d have to admit that her blood was racing. Dared she admit it? She could spend another night partying and not even mind it...with Alex Carruthers at her side.
Just the thought of it sent a tremor of apprehension through her. She glanced uneasily down at her dress, not a designer original or even a copy of a designer original. Get hold of yourself, Kennie. You’re out of your league.
A sharp rap sounded. “What do you want for dessert? Would you rather have strawberry cheesecake or chocolate mousse?”
Even his voice made her jumpy. She met her own dismayed stare in the mirror, and decided that there was only one way to cope.
“Both.”
~o0o~
After room service arrived, Kennie lounged on the sofa, her bare feet tucked under her. Alex sat in an armchair, their full-course dinner spread before them on the cocktail table.
Alex had choked on a bite of steak, and it took a moment for him to recover. “Barrel racing?” His incredulous gaze left a burning trail as it raked over her slender build. “On a horse?”
“Of course,” she remarked impatiently. “Where else?” She took another sip of her iced tea. A drop slid down the side of the goblet and fell onto her kelly-green slacks. She blotted it with her napkin.
“I can’t picture you in a rodeo,” Alex insisted, obviously fascinated.
“I never was very good at it.” She raised her shoulders in a shrug, biting back a giggle. “In fact, when I was fifteen I fell off the horse and broke my leg. Rusk drove like a maniac to get me to Doc Sutler’s and back to the stockyards in time for the pageant.” She laughed at the memory. “Do you know, I won that pageant even with my leg in a cast? Rodeo queen when I was only a sophomore. There were some mamas ready to lynch the judges that night. Of course, all the girls said the judges just felt sorry for me—”
Catching Alex’s amused expression, she broke off, self-conscious. “Well, Tahoka Springs is a small place,” she said, toying with her napkin, “and little things like that mean a lot.”
“You must have been a stunning rodeo queen,” Alex asserted smoothly. “Even in a cast.”
Try as she might, she couldn’t tell whether he was teasing or serious, but she decided she didn’t much care. “I know I was a sight—my jeans leg was split clear up to my hip to make room for the cast.” Kennie slathered butter on her third roll. “This dinner is absolutely wonderful, even though I don’t think I’ll ever be able to
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