# The Swinging R Ranch: The Swinging R Ranch / Whose Line Is It Anyway?

Debbi Rawlins

The West will never be the same…The Swinging R Ranch by Debbi RawlinsBoston playboy Maxwell Bennett needs cash–fast! So he's thrilled when he inherits a ranch in Nevada…until he discovers that the ranch is actually a brothel and that the "ladies" are all over sixty (the R that's swinging stands for Retiree!). Suddenly, Max has more women than he can handle. But the only one he's interested in is beautiful Abby Cunningham, the town's next mayor. Only she wants nothing to do with The Swinging R. Or its new owner…Whose Line Is It Anyway? by Debbi RawlinsAttorney Taylor Madison is tired of the Boston rat race. She needs to slow down and appreciate the finer things in life. And oh-so-sexy rancher Clint Southwick is definitely fine! So, when they hit it off at Max's wedding, Taylor decides a little fling might be in order…until a mix-up with their cell phones leaves her wondering if Clint is as honest as he seems. But how can she expose the man when she's quickly losing her heart to him?

### Two brand-new stories in every volume…twice a month! Duets Vol. #45

Popular Carol Finch always “presents her fans with rollicking wild adventures…memorable characters and fun from beginning to end,” says Romantic Times Magazine. Joining her this month is mother-and-daughter writing team Jennifer Drew with a delightful spin-off to their first Duets title, Taming Luke.

### Duets Vol. #46

The West will never be the same after Debbi Rawlins serves up her first dynamite Double Duets. Affaire de Coeur says “Rawlins’s books are jammed packed with witty dialogue, crazy situations, excellent characters and a lot of laughs!” Enjoy!

Be sure to pick up both Duets volumes today!

The Swinging R Ranch

Whose Line is it Anyway?

Debbi Rawlins


www.millsandboon.co.uk

## Contents

The Swinging R Ranch

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Whose Line is it Anyway?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Epilogue

The Swinging R Ranch

Debbi Rawlins

## “He’s taking over the ranch. Aren’t you, Mr. Bennett?”

Max blinked and took a good look at Rosie. Her hair wasn’t blond. It was white. Attractive, but white. Looking a little closer, he guessed her to be in her late sixties. Was she the cook?

His gaze strayed over the other woman and he tried not to gape. She’d removed her apron and her black lace top fit her like a second skin.

“Max.” Mona grabbed his hand. “I assume I can call you Max? And of course, you already know I’m Mona. Mona Lisa.” Pointing to the other woman, she added, “And this here is Rosie Peach.”

“Mona Lisa. Rosie Peach,” Max repeated slowly, not quite able to believe what he was seeing.

Mona nodded. “Candy Kane is out shopping, but she should be home soon. There’s only the three of us these days.”

Max swallowed.

Mona and Rosie exchanged knowing looks. Then Rosie smiled. “Don’t worry, Max,” she said, patting his arm. “There may be snow on the chimney, but there’s still fire in the furnace.”

Dear Reader,

The state of Nevada is the last place I thought I’d ever set a story. It’s a desert, for crying out loud! Well, not only did I set my first Double Duets in that wonderful, wacky place, but I actually bought a house there. And guess what? I love it!

Even reading the newspapers in Nevada is entertaining—and inspiring! In fact, I came up with the idea behind The Swinging R Ranch when I read an article about a local brothel. How could I help playing the “what if” game in my head with all the juicy material I was finding? I’m still not sure how I came up with the name of the town—Bingo. I’d never played the game, and thought I wouldn’t like it. Now I’m hopelessly addicted, and on most hot afternoons, you’ll find me feverishly daubing numbers in the Bingo Room of The Reserve Casino. Just don’t tell my editor. She thinks I’m writing.

I hope the people of Bingo brighten up your days the way they’ve brightened mine.

Enjoy,


## Books by Debbi Rawlins

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

691—MARRY ME, BABY

730—THE BRIDE TO BE…OR NOT TO BE?

741—IF WISHES WERE…HUSBANDS

780—STUD FOR HIRE?

808—HIS, HERS AND THEIRS

This is for the ladies of The Reserve Bingo Room—the best bingo agents in Nevada!

And a special acknowledgment to Carol, “the pretty one.”

## 1

“EVER CONSIDER WORKING for a living?”

The voice seemed to echo down a long tunnel. Max Bennett buried his head deeper under his pillow. It was practically the middle of the night. He was alone. Had to be a dream.

At a slight scraping sound, he peeked through one eye. Light flooded the room. Someone had opened the drapes.

He cursed into the pillow and closed his eye again. He’d thought he was alone. Had what’s-her-name from last night come home with him? You’d think he’d remember that.

“Come on, you bum. Rise and shine.”

Max let out a sigh of relief. It was only Taylor’s voice. Rolling over, he glanced at the clock on the nightstand. His vision blurred and he had to squint. Groaning, he let his head drop back to the pillow. “For God’s sake, it’s only noon.”

“So, you can waste just half the day for a change.” She tugged at the covers he was trying to pull over his head and they landed bunched at his waist. “Did I tell you Hastings submitted his resignation? My firm will need a good contract lawyer.”

All Max had on was a pair of black silk boxers but that wouldn’t faze Taylor so there was no chance of embarrassing her into leaving. She’d been his best friend since their first year in law school. Although they’d dated once, they decided they made better friends. Taylor was ambitious, dedicated, serious. Everything he wasn’t. Of course she didn’t have three generations of blue-blooded Bennetts paying her tab.

“Very funny,” he mumbled and tried to get comfortable again.

“I wasn’t being funny. I’m dead serious.”

Oh, man. Serious was even worse. He hated when she got serious. When any woman did.

“If you came all the way over here to offer me a job, then you just wasted half your day,” he said, and she gave him a disappointed look. “Your time would be better spent finding a way to break into my trust fund.”

He squinted at the top of the nightstand again. His gold watch sat next to an engraved lighter he didn’t recognize. Where the hell was the aspirin?

“If you weren’t so damn lazy you’d have read the will and already figured out that’s impossible. Your grandmother was very specific about your money being dispensed in five-year increments.” Sighing, she reached behind the lamp and produced a small bottle of aspirin. “Why did you bother going to Harvard? You don’t need a law degree to be a vagrant.”

He didn’t even flinch. “Get me some water, huh?”

She stayed put and held up an envelope. “You should have told me about this.”

He stared at the unfamiliar envelope. “I’ve got the Aspen ski trip coming up, then the baccarat tournament in Monte Carlo. I need some serious cash. So unless that pertains to me getting at my trust fund early, I’m not interested.”

Shaking two white tablets out of the bottle into his palm, he contemplated trying to down them without water. A nasty thought. But so was rolling out of bed and trudging all the way across his room to the bathroom.

“You’ve inherited a ranch.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” He sank back against the pillows. “I’ll give you a hundred bucks to get me some water.”

“Did you know it’s located in Nevada?”

“Yeah, I even know that’s a state. I checked.”

“Hope you didn’t strain yourself,” she said as she walked toward the bathroom. She returned with a crystal goblet of water and handed it to him. “This is only because I want you alert and concentrating. Now, who in the world is this Lily McIntyre who left you the ranch? Surely not one of the Bennetts. I doubt they’ve ventured west of Boston. Too uncivilized for them.”

He wasn’t offended by her remark. It was true. “Lily’s my great-aunt on my mother’s side.”

“Have I met her?”

“Nope. Neither have I.”

Taylor frowned. “I always thought you had a pretty close family.”

“Ah, but we like to leave the skeletons in the closet.”

Curiosity sparkled in her eyes as she sat at the edge of his bed. “I can’t wait to hear this.”

He grinned, then grimaced. His head still hurt like hell. “Okay, I confess…I don’t know anything about Aunt Lily. But she’s gotta be the family skeleton because everyone has suddenly developed acute hearing and speech losses. Then there’s the fact she was stuck out on some small ranch in the desert.”

“Think again. This ‘small’ ranch sits on over three hundred acres.”

Max sat up, alert suddenly. “You think it’s income producing?”

“Don’t get too excited. Nevada is still the desert.” She frowned and shook her head. “There’s something strange about this letter. Did you even bother to read it?”

“Yeah, most of it.” Taylor could be so damn annoying at times. Who wouldn’t have been interested in an inheritance? Even if it was a ranch. Cash would be better, especially when he had three more years before he’d be solvent again. “But it doesn’t make sense. A ranch is supposed to have cows and horses and chickens…stuff like that, right?”

She shrugged. “That’s what I thought. I don’t know about chickens though. Aren’t they raised on farms with pigs?”

One side of Max’s mouth lifted in wry amusement. They’d both lived their entire lives in Boston, he on Beacon Hill, Taylor in Roxburry.

She frowned thoughtfully as her gaze scanned the letter. “It’s near a town called Bingo. All that acreage should be worth something.”

He snorted. “I wouldn’t count on it.”

Her cell phone rang. “So you’re just going to roll over and play dead?”

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. Besides, she really didn’t have anything against the Swinging R, as long as her grandmother didn’t start hanging around there too much. “I know,” she said, passing her two M&M’s. “And I’ll welcome each of their votes.”

Gramms frowned. “Don’t be stingy with those. You weren’t raised that way.”

“You know what the doctor said—”

“Abigail, you’re only twenty-six. How can you be such an old fa—?”

The phone rang, cutting off their conversation. Just as well, Abby thought as her grandmother pushed off the bed to get it in the next room. Abby had heard the admonishments before. Many times, in fact. She was too serious, too responsible, too staid for a person her age. Baloney. All of it.

Even if it were true, it wasn’t as if Abby had a choice. She was all Gramms had and someone had to look after her. Next month she’d be seventy without a hint of slowing down. That’s why Abby never bothered to get the phone anymore. It was always for Gramms.

“Some of the girls want to go play bingo tonight,” Gramms said as she breezed back into the room. “We’re going to grab a bite to eat on the way.”

Abby smiled, tucking her disappointment away. “No fries or cheeseburgers, and definitely no cheesecake.”

Her grandmother made a face. “I was going to ask you to come with us, but now I’m not so sure.” Her gaze strayed to the clothes spread out across the bed. Then her eyes met Abby’s. “Did you have plans for us tonight?”

“No.” Abby shrugged off the lie. “I’m just trying to decide what to wear tomorrow night.”

Gramms frowned at the selection, then went to the closet and pulled out the short red dress she’d given Abby last Christmas. “This is what you should wear. Not one of those old fuddy duddy navy or gray suits. Now let’s go.”

Abby took the dress and gave her grandmother a kiss on the cheek. “Go have fun. I’m still practicing my speech.”

Gramms waved a dismissive hand. “You don’t have to do that. You’ll beat old man Cleghorn just by showing up. No one wants that antiquated fool back in the saddle.” She put a finger to her temple, and lowered her voice even though there was no one else in the house. “His chimney’s been clogged for some time now, and he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed when he was in his prime, if you know what I mean.”

Abby wasn’t sure she did, but she knew better than to ask. “I don’t want to win by default, Gramms. I want to win because I’m the best person for the job.”

Estelle’s eyes widened. “Everyone from here to Las Vegas knows you care more about this town than a bear loves honey. Even when all your friends flew the coop after college, you came right back here. Not that I agree with your decision, mind you.” Gramms gave her that gentle smile again that made Abby’s heart constrict. “No one here doubts your ability or your loyalty, Abigail. And when you win, it isn’t going to be by default or because your name is Cunningham.”

“Thanks, Gramms.” Abby sweetly smiled back. “But you still aren’t getting any more M&M’s.”

Estelle’s smile faded and she snorted. “Don’t buy the peanut ones anymore. They get in my dentures.”

“Good. Don’t eat them. Now, outta here. The girls are waiting for you.”

Gramms hesitated. “You’re sure you don’t want me to stick around and help you?”

“Nope. I’m just going to putter around a bit. Maybe take a nap before dinner. I made a casserole. Enough for three nights. Later maybe I’ll have time to bake a batch of cookies for your bridge club meeting on Sunday.”

Estelle frowned. “There’s something very wrong with this picture. It’s Friday night. You should be going out.”

Abby gently took her grandmother by the shoulders, faced her toward the door and walked her out of the room. “I’m doing exactly what I want to be doing.”

“Taking care of me?”

Abby grimaced at her grandmother’s weary tone. “Don’t say it like that. You hardly need a baby-sitter. I’m just a homebody, Gramms—I always have been. You know that. Now, go have fun. But don’t stay out too late.”

She hesitated again, and Abby had to give her another nudge before she grabbed her patchwork purse off the hall table. “You know I’ve loved staying with you here in your daddy’s house, don’t you, honey? And how much I’ve treasured our time together?”

Abby reared her head back at her grandmother’s serious tone. “You’re not leaving me and getting married or anything, are you?”

“Oh, good Lord, no.”

Abby had been teasing. Sort of. Gramms could be awfully impulsive at times. “Nothing’s going to change,” Abby assured her, realizing she was probably worried about their time together being upset by Abby’s job. “You’re not losing a granddaughter. Hopefully you’ll be gaining another mayor in the family.”

Oddly, Gramms didn’t look pleased. She merely stood motionless for a long moment, staring back with an uncertainty that made Abby uneasy. “Well, I’d better go. You know how I hate being late.”

“Gramms? Is there anything you want to tell me?”

She pushed open the front door and paused. “Just that I love you. And there’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do for you.”

Despite the lingering summer heat, Abby walked out onto the porch, watched her grandmother climb into her car and waited until the blue sedan had disappeared behind the hedges of pink oleander that lined the end of their driveway.

The feeling that something wasn’t right stayed with her long after she’d returned to her room, selected an outfit, decided on a hairstyle, taken a nap and had some dinner. But it wasn’t until she went into Gramms’s room to get her laundry basket that Abby understood why she’d felt uneasy.

Gramms’s closet was half empty. So were her drawers. On the center of the handmade quilt that covered her bed was an envelope.

Heart pounding, Abby lunged for it.

She tore half the note along with the envelope and had to piece it together. When the message became clear, Abby let out a shriek that shook half of Bingo.

## 2

IT HAD ONLY BEEN AN HOUR since Max stepped off the Bennett family’s private plane and onto Nevada soil and already he hated Bingo and everything associated with it. The desert was not his idea of a good time. It was hot, dusty and he didn’t give a damn what the pilot said, Max knew he saw a friggin’ scorpion. So what that they’d still been forty feet from the ground. A scorpion was pretty damn hard to miss.

From the back seat of the hired car, Max eyed the passing landscape with disdain and suspicion. Scorpion or not, he had no use for anything smaller than a kitten that had four or more legs. He shook his head. How could Aunt Lily have left Boston for this place?

Of course Boston didn’t have legal brothels.

He smiled, thinking of the events of the past twenty-four hours. The Bennetts had gone bonkers over Aunt Lily’s bequest. Normally when he asked for use of the family plane, he’d get a lecture. Not this time. His parents had coughed it up so fast it was a joke. They wanted him to hurry and wash his hands of the place. He’d really have hated telling them that he was thinking about keeping it to supplement his trust fund. So he hadn’t.

“How much longer before we get there?” Max asked the driver, and like the two other times he’d asked, the man sighed.

“About fifteen minutes.” The man muttered something under his breath, then added, “Don’t they teach you boys how to tell time back east?”

At the man’s insolence, Max gave a startled laugh. “Yeah. They even teach us manners. What’s your name?”

“Herbert Hanson.” The man shook his head and from under the battered tan cowboy hat he wore, his black eyes met Max’s in the rearview mirror. “You must be one hardheaded son-of-a-gun.”

Max snorted. “I’d ask how you arrived at that conclusion except I have a feeling that’s unnecessary.”

“If they taught you manners, you weren’t listening too good. I introduced myself to you when I picked you up, son. But you were too busy shooting your mouth off about how you’d ordered a Lincoln Town Car.”

Very few people could render Max speechless. Herbert Hanson’s brassy dressing-down had him dumbstruck.

“I’m sure you’re used to getting what you want,” Hanson continued, “but out here in Bingo, folks are plumb grateful to get what they need. This old Caddy will get you there safe and sound,” he winked into the rearview mirror, taking some of the sting out of his words, “in the next thirteen minutes. You can count on that.”

A dozen sarcastic remarks flew through Max’s head, including one that would make old Herbert think twice about getting a tip. But the man had hit a nerve and Max decided to leave it alone.

He stared out the window in silence, wondering how long it would take to get his business wrapped up and get the hell out of Dodge. There was only one motel in town and he certainly wasn’t expecting much there. He’d had a difficult enough time getting picked up. There was no limo service in Bingo. Herbert was the motel manager’s uncle and he’d agreed to run Max around to supplement his retirement income.

A good reason not to tick off the old guy, or Max could end up without wheels. And scorpion territory was not the place to be hotfooting it around.

Of course he could always stay at the Swinging R Ranch. After all, he owned the place. The thought made him cringe, and he had to remind himself that brothels were legal here in certain parts of Nevada. Hell, it probably boosted the local economy, supplied jobs, kept women off welfare, provided college tuition.

He shoved a hand through his hair. None of this reasoning made him feel better. He’d never been forced to evaluate his position on prostitution, legal or not, and he sure as hell didn’t want to do it now. Not when he was almost broke. Still, the idea that a woman ever had to make a living on her back made him squirm. Great time for him to develop a conscience.

On the near horizon, the flat dusty terrain gave way to a handful of buildings. He glanced at his watch. That had to be Bingo. Taylor had warned him the town was small, but he’d figured a population of nine-hundred-and-two required more than a ghost town.

From behind his dark glasses, he squinted at the sign coming up on the right. It said, Welcome To Bingo, and below it, Population nine-hundred-and-two. Except the two was crossed out and five was etched in.

“What do you people do? Count cows and horses?” Max asked.

Herbert glanced at the sign just as they drove past it. “Nope. The Hoover boys left for college this fall and we don’t expect they’ll be back. But Alma Hopkins just had triplets. Six months ago Louise Jenks had only one, but we suspect there’s another bun in her oven.”

Max stared at the back of the man’s head. He could see enough of his somber profile to see that the guy was serious. Max slumped back in his seat. This was definitely not his scene. The sooner he figured out how much money the Swinging R could make him and got out of here, the better.

“I changed my mind about going straight to the motel. Let’s swing by Chester Southby’s office instead.”

“We can do that,” Herbert said in that annoyingly lazy drawl of his. “But that ol’ boy is going to be fishing on a nice day like this, not sitting cooped up in his office.”

“It’s Friday afternoon. Somebody has to be there.”

“Why?”

Max frowned. Valid question, he supposed. He himself never kept normal hours. He sighed. “Just drive.”

“Happy to oblige, son. I get paid by the mile and I could sure use the money. I got me a big purchase in mind.”

Herbert couldn’t be a day under sixty-five, probably closer to seventy, and Max had to admit he was curious about what the man was so hot to get his hands on. Probably a new car. In fact, eyeing the worn vinyl upholstery, Max hoped that was it. But he wasn’t about to ask. So far the old guy hadn’t pried into Max’s business here in Bingo and he wanted to keep it that way.

That he was the new owner of a bordello had nothing to do with his desire for anonymity, he told himself. It wasn’t as though he was ashamed. He just liked his privacy, that’s all.

“Yup, just what I thought.” Herbert slowed down and pointed to an ancient building that leaned slightly to the left. “See that sign on the door? It means he won’t be back for another couple of days.”

Max squinted at the sheet of white paper tacked to the red door. “It looks like a giant smiley face.”

“That’s right. Getting away from his wife for two days makes Chester real happy. You want we should head back for the motel?”

Max let out an exasperated sigh. The last thing he needed was to have to hang around for an extra day. He frowned suddenly. “Wait a minute. You said head back to the motel? We already passed it?”

“Yup. Four blocks behind you on the right.”

Max slowly turned around. Was he kidding? The entire town was only three blocks long. At least by normal city standards. Four only if you counted the five-car parking lot adjoining Edna’s Edibles.

“It’s got that dang purple roof. You can’t miss it.”

Not even with his eyes closed. Max shook his head at the ill-shaped monstrosity that hovered near the other side of town. Several add-ons in varying shades and types of wood sent the building sprawling into the desert. It wasn’t very big. Just weird. “I’ve changed my mind. Take me to the Swinging R Ranch.”

Herbert slammed on the brakes. Good thing they’d been crawling. Twisted in his seat as he was, Max’s seat belt could have done some serious damage otherwise.

“You wanna go where?” Herbert turned around to give Max a steely-eyed glare. The old man had done a lousy job of shaving and sunlight glinted off missed spots of gray beard. One side of his mouth drooped, probably from too many years of pipe-smoking. “What in the hell for?”

“What do you think?”

“It better not be for what I’m thinking.”

Max held onto his temper. No way was he going to get in a scuffle with this crazy old coot. Then he stopped, frowned. “Wait a minute. What are you thinking?”

Herbert eyed him for a long uncomfortable minute. “There ain’t too many reasons why a fella goes to the Swinging R.”

Max took a deep breath. “Yeah, I see what you mean. Actually, I have other business there.”

“I’m listening.”

This got tricky. Max hadn’t decided yet if he wanted anyone to know who he was. But the look of murderous intent in Herbert Hanson’s eyes pretty much decided things. Of course if the guy had a daughter who worked there Max might be in even deeper trouble.

Damn, he wished Taylor were here. “I’m Lily McIntyre’s nephew.”

Herbert’s bushy salt-and-pepper brows shot up. “No kidding. You the new owner, huh?”

“So it seems.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” Herbert grinned and whipped the car around in the direction from which they’d come. “We’ll be there in ten minutes, tops.”

Herbert was apparently anxious to visit the Ranch. Seven minutes and two ignored stop signs later, they pulled up in front of a sign that announced the Swinging R Ranch.

Max’s heart sank at the sight of the old rambling blue house. The wraparound porch had probably been attractive once, but right now the outside railing had more slats missing than were in place. The surrounding white picket fence was half down and large scabs of peeling paint hung loosely from the portion still standing.

“Well, aren’t you going to get out?”

Max snapped out of his trance and realized Herbert had actually gotten out and come around to open his door. “What happened to this place?”

Herbert frowned at the house, studying it for a moment, then shrugged. “Poor old Lily. She done the best she could but she was getting on in years and sorta just let the place go.”

“Didn’t she have any help?”

“Oh, yeah, but she was headstrong. Tried to run everything herself anyway. Let me help you with that bag, son.”

A ray of hope filtered through Max’s gloom. Maybe the disrepair was a result of Lily’s eccentricity and not a failing business. “No, thanks. I can—”

“Herbie! You old scoundrel.” A booming feminine voice coming from the side of the house cut Max off. “You didn’t tell me you were coming today.”

Max turned around to see who had lit Herbert’s face up like a Vegas neon sign. But it was hard to get a good look when she ran past him and flung herself at the older man. To his credit, Herbert caught her and spun her around a couple of times before putting her back on the ground.

She was slim, petite even, with a head full of flaming red hair. When she aimed her charcoal-lined blue eyes at Max he was surprised to find that she was near Herbert’s age.

The housekeeper probably, judging by her age and the full white apron she wore. Flour smudged her left cheek. Or maybe she was the cook. Max smiled. Things were looking up if the place could still afford help.

“Well, hello, Sugar,” she said, running a lazy gaze over him. “Who might you be?”

“Come on, Mona.” Herbert drew her attention. “Don’t I get more than a hug?”

She slapped his arm, but her lips curved. “You old rascal. I’ve a good mind to leave you standing out here in the hot sun for not warning me you were coming.” She patted her hair. “I must look a mess.”

“Hell, no, Mona. You always look good to me.” Herbert picked her up off the ground again. Laughing, she gave him another smack on the arm and he put her down.

Max eyed the other man with new interest. Maybe the guy wasn’t as old as he thought.

“Come on in, and bring your friend. Rosie just made some fresh lemonade.” Mona led them up the path toward the front door, Herbert panting behind her like a lovesick puppy.

Max didn’t like the looks of the porch stairs but the other two didn’t seem worried so he followed them into the house.

It looked fairly normal. From the foyer, he could see part of the living room. Tan carpeting, an overstuffed blue plaid sofa and two recliners. No red velvet or black lace easily visible. Maybe they saved those sorts of things for the bedrooms.

That he was in a real-life brothel struck him suddenly and he had the most unnatural urge to shiver. This was all legal, he reminded himself, but it didn’t help.

“Hey, Mona, have we got company?” a voice asked from the kitchen.

“Herbie and a young man,” Mona called back. “Are you decent? We’re coming in for lemonade.”

Max laughed. They both gave him odd looks. He’d assumed Rosie was the cook, or some other help. Maybe she was one of the…

He cleared his throat. Taylor was his attorney, dammit. He should have insisted she come and handle this. “Is there a place I can wash up?”

“Sure, the kitchen sink.” Mona reached behind to untie her apron as she led them through the dining room.

So much for trying to stall. Following beside Herbert, Max couldn’t help but notice the rhythmic sway of Mona’s hips but he straightened in disgust when he realized he was admiring a woman old enough to be his grandmother.

“Either of you boys want some rum to go with that lemonade?” Mona asked over her shoulder.

“None for me,” Herbert said. “I’m working.”

“Working?” Mona laughed. “Standing here jawing with us?”

“Nope. Driving this young fella around.”

They reached the kitchen, and with open curiosity, Mona turned to give Max the once-over. “You still haven’t told me your name, Sugar.”

“Max Bennett.” He offered his hand.

She frowned. “Now, why does that name sound familiar?”

“Maxwell Bennett?” A surprised high-pitched voice came from somewhere in the corner.

He looked past Mona and Herbert to find a well-rounded, platinum-blond woman balancing on a step stool in the walk-in pantry.

Mona looked from Max to the other woman. “Rosie, you know this young man?”

“For goodness sakes, Mona, this is Lily’s nephew.” She came out of the pantry, dusting her hands, and sending up a mist of flour. “He’s taking over the Ranch. Aren’t you, Mr. Bennett?”

Max blinked. When the air cleared, he got a good look at Rosie. Her hair wasn’t blond. It was white. Attractive, but definitely white. The lines etched around her mouth and fanning from her brown eyes put her in the late sixties category. Was she the cook? Which made Mona…what? The housekeeper?

His gaze strayed over to her. He tried not to gape. She’d removed her apron and now he knew what they did with black lace. The fabric fit her like a second skin, clinging and diving to a deep V between her sizable breasts.

“Max.” Mona grabbed the hand he’d offered earlier. “I assume I can call you Max? And of course you already know I’m Mona. Mona Lisa. And this here is Rosie Peach.”

“Mona Lisa. Rosie Peach,” Max repeated slowly. This couldn’t be what he was thinking.

Mona nodded. “Candy Kane is out shopping but she should be home soon. There’s only three of us these days.”

Oh, man. Max swallowed, not sure what to say.

To his further embarrassment, Mona and Rosie exchanged knowing looks. Then Rosie smiled. “Don’t worry, Max,” she said patting his arm. “There may be snow on the chimney but there’s still fire in the furnace.”

“WHERE IS SHE?” Abby stood on the porch of the Swinging R and planted her hands on her hips, waiting for Mona to deny that Gramms was here.

“I presume you’re talking about Estelle.” Mona folded her arms across her chest, keeping the screen door open with one hip. “She’s not here.”

“I knew you’d say that.”

“She’s out shopping with Candy.”

“Oh.” Abby hadn’t been prepared for the admission. “Well, what time will she be back?”

“How should I know, Abigail? I’m not her mother.” Mona narrowed her dramatically made-up eyes. “And neither are you.”

Abby lifted her chin. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what this show of rebellion was about. She knew Gramms thought she was too bossy. But Abby sure wasn’t about to discuss their personal business with Mona. “I’ll wait.”

“Don’t you have campaign things to go worry about?”

Abby was about to reply when she heard a deep rumbling laugh coming from inside. She’d already seen Herb Hanson’s car parked alongside the house. No surprise. Everyone knew he and Mona had been an item for a number of years. But that wasn’t his laugh she’d heard. Curiosity elbowed her and she shifted to get a look inside.

Mona shifted, too, blocking her vision. “Abigail, you know we like to protect the privacy of our gentlemen callers.”

Everyone knew the Swinging R had been closed to that kind of business for nearly twenty years. Mona was just trying to be a pain. Abby sighed. “Are you going to make me wait out here?”

“I’m thinking about it. Unless you promise to leave Estelle alone. She’ll go home when she’s good and ready.”

Abby tried to keep her chin up. But it hurt to think that Gramms was trying to get away from her. They’d always been close, and after Abby’s parents died, they’d gotten even closer.

“Ah, shoot. Come on in, honey,” Mona said, and Abby stiffened at the trace of pity in her voice. “Rosie made some fresh lemonade a little while ago.”

Abby was about to refuse, upset that she’d somehow revealed too much of her thoughts. But Mona’s eyes were kind, and that deep rumbling laughter coming from inside called to Abby again.

“Thank you,” she said a little more stiffly than intended, and followed Mona inside.

As soon as she crossed the threshold she saw him. He had his back to her. A very nice back. Medium brown hair a tad too long. Broad-shouldered, tapered waist. And his jeans fit him…extremely well.

“Nice buns, huh?” Mona whispered.

“I wasn’t looking there,” Abby shot back, obviously in too loud a voice.

Both men turned.

Heat blossomed in her cheeks. “I guess I’ll go find Rosie,” she muttered.

Before she could slip away, Mona grabbed her arm. “Not so fast. There’s someone we want you to meet.”

Abby had no choice but to stop and look up.

Oh, no.

Green eyes. She was the world’s biggest sucker for guys with green eyes. She’d made two huge mistakes over green-eyed men—one in high school, one in college. Both disastrous. And this man’s eyes were gorgeous, especially the way they lit up with his smile.

“Hi, I’m Abby,” she said, disgusted at how tongue-tied she felt.

“I’m Max Bennett.” His perfectly shaped mouth curved slowly, a faint dimple appearing in one cheek.

“You certainly are,” she murmured, astonished by the sheer beauty of him. She cringed. Had she really said that out loud?

“Did I tell you I’m Abby?”

His green eyes gleamed with amusement and she found she couldn’t look away. When he started to nod slowly, she found herself absently nodding along with him. Horrified, she snapped out of the trance.

This was not at all like her. The clammy palms, the speeding pulse. Sure, he was gorgeous but…she wanted to be mayor. She had to focus on her campaign, concentrate on her career, on bringing Bingo into the twenty-first century. Her future had been too meticulously planned. It did not include a man. Or a family. For now, anyway. Maybe later…

She took a deep breath, trying to rein in her wildly galloping thoughts. For heaven’s sake, she was only being introduced to the guy. Campaign jitters, that’s all.

She stuck out her hand. “Abby Cunningham. I’m running for mayor.”

Surprise flashed in his eyes. “Mayor? I assumed you worked here as one of the…” He shrugged.

Abby’s mouth opened but nothing came out. He thought she was a…She couldn’t even think it, much less say it.

“Nah, Abigail’s been to college and everything,” Mona said. “She’s going to be our next mayor just like her daddy was.”

“Good for you.” Max’s slow grin had her getting all rubbery again, and she forgave him for mistaking her for an employee here. The warm feel of his palm pressed to hers just about finished her off. “When’s the election?”

She quickly withdrew her hand and inconspicuously rubbed her tingly palm down the front of her jeans. “In two months.”

“Pity I won’t be here to help celebrate your victory.”

He didn’t mean he would really celebrate with her, of course, but at the low intimate timbre of his voice, Abby got all shivery inside.

“What do you mean?” Mona asked. “Who’s going to run the place if you’re not?” At Abby’s puzzled frown, she added, “Max is the new owner of the Swinging R.”

Abby gaped at him. “You’re the new owner?”

He nodded.

The warm fuzzy feeling instantly vanished. What the heck was he doing here? If he had even a passing notion of reopening the place…or allowing Gramms to stay on…

Abby got so worked up she could barely sustain the thought.

“You’re right, Mr. Bennett. You won’t be here in two months. I’m going to shut you down.”

## 3

MAX WATCHED the pretty brunette go from warm and friendly to cool and scowling in two seconds flat. Too bad. She had dynamite brown eyes and a great smile…when she didn’t look as though she wanted to see a noose around his neck.

Max gave her a big grin. “Excuse me, but isn’t the Swinging R legal in this county?”

“Oh, don’t pay her any mind.” Mona tugged at Abby’s arm. “Go to the kitchen and get yourself a glass of lemonade and quit stirring up trouble.”

Abby wouldn’t pull her gaze away from him. “For now. But that’s going to change real quick.”

“When you’re mayor?”

She lifted her chin. “That’s right.”

Mona reared back her head. “Abigail Cunningham, what kind of foolishness is this? I never heard you say any such thing before now. Does your gramma know about this nonsense?”

Abby turned red and looked away.

“Seems I bring out the best in Abigail,” Max said, which earned him another glare.

“Ah, shoot, she’s just joking.” Herbert slid an arm around Mona’s shoulders. “Aren’t you, Abigail?”

“She’s got her nose out of joint because Estelle spent the night here,” Mona said before Abby could respond. “Let’s go have some lemonade and forget this crazy talk.”

“Estelle spent the night here?” Herbert frowned, glancing briefly at Abby before returning his attention to Mona. “Why?”

Abby’s entire body language changed. No longer looking defensive, she turned toward Mona, her light brown eyes turning dark and uncertain as she waited for the answer. Something so raw and vulnerable in Abby’s expression caught Max off guard and triggered an odd flutter in his gut.

No one said a word for what felt like an hour. Mona’s nervous gaze darted to Abby, then back to Herbert. She fiddled with the fake string of pearls around her neck. She was stalling, thinking of something to say.

Max glanced again at Abby. A crestfallen look dulled her eyes, and Max had a strong and strange urge to comfort her—which was of course absurd. Not just because he wasn’t the nurturing type or because he didn’t even know this woman. Not even because he had no idea who Estelle was or what the hell was going on. But the trace of longing and disappointment that lingered in Abby’s face, even as she bravely lifted her chin, struck a chord so deep inside him that he wanted to climb back into Herbert’s car and drive straight to the company plane and get as far the hell away from Nevada as he could.

“I’ll answer that question, Herbert.” Abby gave the older man a tight smile. “My grandmother is trying to get away from me.”

“Oh, hogwash.” Mona shook her head. “That’s not true. She wants to give you some breathing room.”

“Of course it’s true. She thinks I’m too overbearing just because I’m concerned about her welfare. But this isn’t the time or place to discuss it.” Abby took a step toward the door. “So please tell her to give me a call when she gets in.”

Max straightened. To his amazement, he didn’t want her to leave. “You running away from a fight?” he asked, and she glanced at him, looking a little startled, as though she’d forgotten he was there. “I never knew a successful politician who tucked their tail between their legs and ran.”

“What on earth are you talking about?” She made a face. “Mona and I aren’t fighting.”

“Now you sound like a politician—evading the question.”

Abby wrinkled her nose. “I think you’ve been out in the heat too long.”

“You boldly tell me you’re going to shut me down, then without a word of explanation you’re running off.” Max shook his head. “When you take a stand, you’d better be prepared to back it up if you want to be taken seriously.”

She folded her arms across her chest and looked at him with tolerant amusement. “Really? And you know all about this sort of thing?”

“More than I care to,” he said, and when she raised her brows, waiting for him to explain, he shrugged. “Let’s just say my family has some history in the political arena.” A small understatement, considering he came from several generations of senators. But he didn’t like to think about that.

“Oh? And what do they think of you owning a brothel?” she asked, her tone so sticky sweet he was surprised she wasn’t swarmed by flies. “One that’s made money off of helpless women.”

Max kept as straight a face as he could. From the looks of things, it had been a long time since this place had turned so much as a dime. And helpless? Mona looked like she was ready to take a switch to somebody’s behind.

“What’s the deal, Abby? You sound like a disgruntled ex-employee or something,” he said seriously. At her wide-eyed indignation, he started to crack, but his poker face lasted long enough for him to add, “Or maybe you were turned down? If that’s the case, I’m sure we can reevaluate your application.”

Abby obviously had a temper. He could see she was trying to squelch it by pressing her lips together and taking deep breaths, but her eyes had that unmistakable glint of malice.

“How generous of you, Mr. Bennett,” she said with remarkable aplomb. “But I assure you that had I chosen to seek employment here, I would have had no trouble whatsoever.”

Herbert chuckled.

Mona gave him a warning look and placed her hands on her hips. “Okay, you two. That’s enough.”

“He started it,” Abby blurted, and promptly turned red again.

A grin tugged at Max’s lips. She really was cute. Refreshing, too. The women in his circle never blushed. In fact, a few of their ribald comments had made him squirm a time or two.

“Okay, this is last call for lemonade,” Mona said, motioning Herbert to usher Max into the kitchen. “You’re still welcome, Abigail, if you promise not to bring up any more sore subjects.” She slid a glance to the door. “Otherwise I’ll have your gramma ring you later.”

Abby gave the older woman a conciliatory smile. “I’m going to pass on the lemonade, but I would like a few minutes alone with Mr. Bennett.”

Mona chortled. “When pigs fly.”

Max held up a hand. “It’s okay, Mona. I think I can handle her.”

Before Mona could voice another protest, Herbert slipped an arm around her shoulders and steered her toward the kitchen.

“We’ll be lapping up some of Rosie’s lemonade while you two are pow-wowing,” he said. “Come join us when you’re done.”

They waited until the other couple disappeared, and then Max gestured toward the living room. “Why don’t we sit down?”

Abby smiled. “Didn’t take you long to make yourself at home, did it?”

“I do own the place.”

Rolling her eyes, she walked stiffly past him toward a frilly pink love seat beneath a velvet painting of Elvis Presley. So much for the room being furnished normally. Max didn’t follow her right away. He was too taken by her scent. It wasn’t anything immediately recognizable, not flowery exactly. Maybe a hint of cloves. Whatever it was, he liked it. Almost as much as he liked the gentle sway of her hips and the way her worn jeans hugged her fanny.

She sat down, crossed her legs and primly folded her hands on her lap. When he still hadn’t moved, she gave him an odd look and uncrossed, then recrossed her legs. He moved toward her, bypassing the couch and the antique Queen Anne chair. The only seat left in his path was beside her and her eyes rounded in disbelief.

When he settled in next to her on the love seat, she let out a sound of exasperation and shifted closer to her corner. “Don’t you understand the concept of personal space?”

He pursed his lips as if giving the question consideration. “This seat is built for two, right?”

She narrowed her gaze on him and he noticed how long her lashes were, yet there didn’t seem to be anything artificial about them. It was an odd thing for him to notice. Hell, choosing to sit here next to her was pretty damn odd. He had no idea where that idea had come from. It certainly hadn’t been conscious.

“I know what you’re trying to do.” Their gazes made contact and she paused. Her tongue briefly darted out to moisten her lips and he realized this had been a bad idea. “But it’s not going to work.”

“What isn’t?”

“You’re trying to intimidate me. I don’t care if you’d sat on my lap, I’m not backing down.”

“Good. I like a woman with backbone.”

“That’s another thing. I don’t give a hoot about what you like or don’t like.”

“Don’t give a hoot,” he repeated, thoughtfully. “Now that’s one I haven’t heard before. Is that a local saying?”

Abby smiled. “Trying to provoke me won’t work either.”

“What? I’m serious.”

She stared at him for a long, silent moment, and he knew what it felt like to be a bug under a microscope. Her expression never wavered as she studied him, as though she were truly interested in what he was thinking. Her frankness surprised him and unnerved the hell out of him.

So did her mysterious feminine scent…the chocolate brown of her eyes…the crisp tart smell of green apple on her breath.

Abruptly he stood and glanced at his watch. “I haven’t got all day. What is it you want to talk about?”

She started a little at his sudden move. “I want to know what you intend to do with the Swinging R.”

Her question took him aback, although it really shouldn’t have. What else would she want from him? But he really had no clue how to answer her. Considering the circumstances, he’d probably sell it, if he could find a buyer. “I don’t know yet.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“Trying to figure out how to generate some income.”

Her eyes widened and she stood, too. The top of her head didn’t even meet his chin, but that didn’t stop her from backing him up. “You’re not serious.”

“Why not? This is a business. Businesses are supposed to make money.” He stood his ground and she stopped two feet away, her eyes ablaze with outrage and disbelief.

And then she blinked, and a slow smile softened her expression. Damn, but she really was cute, pretty even. Nothing striking, but the kind of woman a man eventually wanted to come home to every night. Other men. Not him. Marriage was for guys with nothing better to do.

“I see,” she said nodding. “You’re teasing me. I guess I deserve it for being so pushy. But I really am interested in your plans for the place.”

“I wasn’t teasing.”

Her smile vanished and she glared, lips tight with disapproval. When she suddenly lowered her gaze to his body, he shifted uncomfortably wondering what she found so interesting down there. And then he realized she was studying his watch. Next, her attention fastened on his shoes.

She looked up. “You obviously don’t need the money. Why bother with this place?”

He snorted. “You know that much about me in just twenty minutes?”

“A gold Rolex and five-hundred-dollar Gucci shoes pretty much disqualifies you from welfare.”

The watch was pretty distinctive but he was surprised she recognized his designer shoes. Snobby of him maybe, but Bingo wasn’t exactly the shopping Mecca of the west. No upscale neighborhoods or large luxury cars. These were obviously plain people with simple tastes.

He chuckled to himself at the irony of his thoughts. After twenty minutes, here he figured he knew all about her. He had a feeling that if he stuck around long enough, he’d find that there was a lot about Abby Cunningham he would never have guessed. But it wasn’t going to happen. He was out of here by tomorrow.

“Stalling isn’t going to discourage me,” she said, when he’d apparently been quiet too long. She folded her arms over her chest. “And for your information, my question is purely personal, and not political.”

“Right.”

Uncrossing her arms, she glanced over her shoulder toward the kitchen. Herbert and Mona were long gone. Abby took a step closer to him and lowered her voice. “I’m sure you can see that this place is no longer operational. The, uh, ladies are in retirement, so to speak, but they still need a place—”

A loud squawk cut her off and made them both jump. Mona came marching toward them, her face reddened with anger, a raised frying pan in her right hand. “Retirement, my fanny. It’ll be a cold day in August before you put this old mare out to pasture. Now, Abigail, I suggest you get before I really lose my temper.”

The frying pan was one of those old cast-iron ones that had to weigh a ton, and it did, judging by the way it kept inching down, causing Mona to pitch forward slightly, teetering. Max was about to relieve her of it before someone really did get hurt, when Herbert surprised her from behind and lifted the pan out of her hand.

“For cryin’ out loud, Mona, have you stopped taking your pills again?” Herbert set the pan on top of a tall bookcase out of her reach.

“Dammit, Herbie, whose side are you on?” Mona smacked him on the upper arm. “How’s a body supposed to make a living?”

With a weary sigh, Herbert slid Max a helpless look. “Come on, Mona, you haven’t done that for almost twenty years.”

“Viagra, honey, Viagra is changing everything. We’ll be open again. You’ll see.” She looked at Max. “You’re a businessman. Tell him.”

Everyone turned to Max, Herbert with an expression of dread, Abby with amusement glittering in her eyes. Max cleared his throat. “I hadn’t really thought much about that.”

“What’s there to think about?” Mona put her hands on her hips. “You get a supply of the stuff and we’ll pass them out. There won’t be enough hours in the day once all those old goats from Bingo start lining up.”

Max took a deep breath. He was a worldly, laid-back guy. He could handle this conversation, even if Mona did look like she could be his grandmother.

He made the mistake of looking at Abby for help. A grin tugged at the corners of her mouth and her eyes sparkled with mischief.

“Yeah, Max,” she said, her forehead wrinkling in a thoughtful frown. “You could order Viagra by the bushel, pass it out like candy and put all these ladies back to work. After all, it is legal in this county.”

Max gave her his best smile. If she thought he would cower, she was wrong. He was a Bennett. Made of strong New England stock. He could handle anything.

“Yoo-hoo! Anybody home? I have a surprise.”

Everyone turned toward the high-pitched voice coming from the kitchen.

“In here, Candy,” Mona called out.

Two women appeared at the door. Both seventyish. Both grinning. One holding her hand behind her back.

“I have a surprise,” the shorter one drawled, glanced behind and tugged on a leash.

The world’s ugliest lizard lumbered forward and stuck out its very long tongue.

“Her name’s Tami,” Candy said. “Isn’t she adorable?”

Max told himself he wasn’t going to faint. But he put a steadying hand on the couch just in case.

## 4

“WHAT IS THAT?” Max asked, relieved his voice hadn’t cracked.

“An iguana,” the short blonde said, her artfully made-up face scowling at Max’s abruptness. “Who wants to know?”

“Okay, Candy, don’t go getting your knickers in a twist.” Mona stepped between him and the other woman. Not that Max had any intention of getting closer. Especially not as long as the overgrown lizard’s tongue kept swiping the air. “This here is Maxwell Bennett, Lily’s nephew.”

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Candy looked him up and down. “You came all the way out here yourself, did you? Figured you’d send some fancy lawyer to take care of things all neat and tidy.”

God, Max wished he had. “Nice to meet you, Candy. Now about this thing…” He gestured to the iguana, then took a hasty step back when it moved. “Tell me it isn’t some sort of pet.”

Candy narrowed her gaze. “She’s a she, not an it, and I already explained her name is Tami.”

Mona sighed loudly. “You haven’t met Estelle yet, Max.” She inclined her head toward the other woman with short silver hair, much more conservative in her blue shirtwaist dress next to Candy’s tight jeans. “Estelle?”

She was smiling at Herbert and paying them no attention.

Mona looked from Herbert to the silver-haired woman, and she planted both hands on her hips and started tapping one foot. “Estelle?” Her tone was sharper this time.

“Hmm?” Estelle turned an absent gaze toward them.

“I am trying to introduce you to Mr. Bennett.” Mona’s hands remained on her hips, and with her fiery blue eyes she issued Herbert a brief warning before forcing a smile for Max.

He checked out the position of the iguana before stepping forward to offer his hand, and caught Abby’s smirk out of the corner of his eye. She’d been so quiet he’d almost forgotten about her. She was obviously aware of his discomfort and enjoying it far too much.

Trying to ignore her, he smiled at Estelle. “Pleased to meet you. How long have you been, uh…” to his annoyance, he stumbled for a suitable word “…working here?”

A shriek coming from Abby startled them all, drawing their attention. Even Mona stopped scowling at Estelle and frowned at Abby. “What in the hell has gotten into you?”

But Abby’s anger was clearly reserved for Max alone. She marched up to him, stopping only inches away, then tilted her head back and glared. “That is my grandmother you are speaking to,” she said through gritted teeth. “She does not work here.”

“Oh, get off your high horse, Abigail.” Mona huffed. “You saying she’s too good to work here?”

Abby blinked, but she kept her attention on Max. “I’m just saying she doesn’t. And she has no business staying here.”

The tension in the room raised the temperature by ten degrees. And Max had no intention of fanning the flames. He looked away from Abby and stared at the iguana. It stared back. “I’ll tell you who has no business here. It’s that disgusting tongue-wielding reptile.”

Candy gasped. “Disgusting? Tami is not disgusting. She’s my new pet.” Her face softened as she looked at the creature. “Aren’t you, sugar baby?”

“You think you’re keeping her here?”

“Why not?” Candy’s overly plucked eyebrows arched in challenge. “Where do you usually keep a pet?”

“One like that?” Max snorted. “In a zoo.”

“Over my dead body.” The blonde folded her arms across her chest, the movement giving the iguana’s leash more slack, and the animal took two steps toward Max.

Hell, it was his dead body he was worried about. He backed up, and stepped on Abby’s foot.

“Ouch!” She gave him a light jab to the ribs.

He grunted, more in surprise than anything else. “For crying out loud, I didn’t do that on purpose.” When their eyes met, she tried to signal something he didn’t understand.

“I don’t get it,” Candy said. “What’s it to you if I keep Tami here? None of you girls mind, do you?”

Mona shook her head. “She’s gotta be better than that tarantula you had last year.”

“Or that monkey who kept hiding our garters,” Rosie added.

“He was a mean-spirited little thing.”

Were they putting him on? Max looked at Herbert who had sat down, pretty much ignoring everything, and picked candies out of a blue glass dish.

“What about you?” Candy turned to Estelle. “You helped me pick Tami out so I assume you vote she stays.”

“Uh, excuse me.” Abby cleared her throat. “Gramms is coming home with me.”

At this point, Max didn’t give a damn what anyone did. Maybe it was time to cut his losses. He was a minute away from telling Herbert to take him back to the airstrip. These people were all nuts. He eyed the iguana who stood between him and the door.

And then he caught the look on Estelle’s face. Of course he didn’t know her, so perhaps he was wrong, but she looked awfully close to tears. He glanced at Abby. Fear clouded her eyes.

Oh, hell, it was probably his imagination. He didn’t know her either. Nor was this domestic dispute his problem. His gaze reluctantly shifted to Abby again. He hated seeing her beautiful brown eyes so panicked.

“What’s wrong with your grandmother staying here a while?” he asked, knowing he would regret it.

Disappointment spread across Abby’s face. “She has a perfectly fine home she shares with me. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“What I’d like to know,” Candy cut in, “is why keeping Tami is such a big hairy deal.”

“Because I don’t like reptiles,” Max said, his patience gone.

“What difference does that make? You’re not living—” Candy stopped, her gaze narrowing in suspicion. “You’re not moving in here.”

Max reacted with a short bark of laughter. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He shook his head. He was still packed. If he had half a brain he’d head back to the plane right now. But then he briefly caught a glimpse of Abby’s shiny brown hair. “Look, I’ll only be here a couple of days to take care of business. I’m thinking about staying here instead of the motel. But that—” he stared pointedly at the iguana “—has to stay outside until I’m gone.”

Candy opened her mouth to protest, but Rosie stuck an oatmeal raisin cookie in it.

“That seems reasonable,” Mona said, “now how about you tell us what kind of business you’ll be doing?”

He gave her a censuring look. “My business.”

Mona chuckled. “You remind me of Lily. Stubborn as an old mule.”

“If Mr. Bennett will be staying here, obviously there isn’t enough room for you, Gramms.” Abby locked gazes with Estelle. “I’ll help you get your things.”

“Now, hold on there.” Candy’s voice was a little garbled until she swallowed her bite of cookie. “We have three extra rooms since Misty got married and Ginger went back east. And, of course, since Lily, God rest her soul, headed for the great beyond.”

“Don’t forget the sewing room,” Herbert chimed in. “You gals never use it. I could even fix it up some if you like.” Mona’s suspicious gaze swung from Herbert to Estelle. “How come you never offered to help us fix things up before?”

Herbert rubbed the side of his chin, looking slightly sheepish. “Now, that’s not true. I repaired the back steps twice. Plus you know I’m pretty busy most days.”

“Yeah, running down to the Vegas strip and betting on those damn fool Dallas Cowboys and Denver Broncos.” Mona sniffed and cast another piqued look at Estelle. “At least that’s what you been telling me.”

Max was about to put an end to this ridiculous conversation when Abby’s expression caught his interest. She had an unusually expressive face, and it wasn’t difficult to see how her thoughts had unraveled. She was just as worried about anything going on between her grandmother and Herbert as Mona seemed to be. He wondered what that was about, and his interest surprised him. God knew he had many faults, but curiosity wasn’t one of them.

Abby’s gaze slowly swung his way, as if she’d felt him watching her. An unexpected pink tinted her cheeks and she looked really cute. Not his type, but cute.

“I could use some help in the kitchen,” Rosie said, breaking the brief silence as she headed down the short hall, “especially if everyone is staying for supper.”

“I’ll go change my clothes and be right in,” Estelle called to her, carefully avoiding Abby’s gaze.

“I need to talk to you, Gramms.”

“In a minute.” The older woman waved a hand and hurried down the opposite hall.

“And you,” Mona said, pointing a scarlet-tipped finger at Herbert. “Outside. I have a thing or two to say, and I don’t think you want anyone hearing it.”

Worry puckered the man’s brows. “Gee, I’d really like to Mona, but I told you, I’m working.” He turned a pleading look to Max. “Maybe we should go see if Southby is back from fishing.”

“No rush.” Max’s slow grin met with Herbert’s squinty-eyed threat. “Go visit with Mona. And take your time.”

“Come on, Tami.” Candy tugged the leash but the iguana seemed preoccupied with Max. It stuck its long tongue out again as if trying to see if it could reach him. It couldn’t but Max inched back anyway.

“Go. Scat.” He tried to shoo it, but it kept staring at him like he was dinner.

Behind him, Abby giggled.

He growled in exasperation.

“We’re going already.” Candy jerked on the leash and this time Tami obeyed, and they started down the same hall Estelle had taken.

“I hope there’s a back door through there,” Max called after them.

Candy didn’t so much as look back, and Max pretty much figured she planned on sneaking the little beast into her room. The motel was beginning to sound awfully good.

He turned to Abby. “What are you grinning at?”

Lifting a shoulder, she pressed her lips together and slowly shook her head.

She hadn’t smiled much but when she did her entire face changed. It lit up like sunshine on crystal-clear water. Her bow-shaped lips were a natural pink. Perfect. Tempting.

“Didn’t your parents ever take you to the zoo when you were a kid?” she asked, letting her mouth curve again.

“Yes, they did. In fact, I like zoos. They have bars and cages.”

She shook her head at him.

He snorted. “I didn’t see you running up to give it a scratch behind the ears.”

“Touché.”

Max’s curiosity stirred again. Her response surprised him. What he’d expected was a more down-home word or phrase, but not something Taylor or one of his other friends would say. “Tell me the truth. You don’t think it’s weird that Candy has pets like tarantulas and iguanas?”

“You want the truth? I think it’s weird that any state would legally sanction brothels in this day and age.”

“Oh, brother.” Max scrubbed at his eyes. He’d gotten up too damn early. “So, back to lecturing.”

“Wrong.” She shook her head. “I’m not, really.” She studied him for a moment. “Truth time again. If you hadn’t inherited this place, would you have bought it?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“It’s my devious way of trying to find out what you really think of a place like this.”

He smiled. “I think it needs a couple more cushioned rockers.”

She smiled back, a truly terrific smile. “You’re dodging the subject.”

“Damn right I am. You already told me that if you become mayor you’re shutting us down.”

“Oh.” She frowned. “Sounds like you’re considering reopening the place.”

“I might.”

“Really?” Her expression didn’t waver. “It would take an awful lot of money.”

“Hell, it’ll take a lot just to keep it standing.” And that was no joke. He’d obviously wasted his time flying out here.

“Probably. But you have to do something.”

He shrugged. “I could just walk away. Leave the place as is.”

Shock registered in her eyes. “No, you can’t. The house isn’t safe.”

“Then they should move out.”

“And where do you suggest they go? These women live on social security, not fat pensions.”

“Not my problem.”

She stared in disbelief, then in disgust. “You own the place. It’s your responsibility.”

“Excuse me, but I didn’t sign up for this headache.”

“Too bad. You’ve got it.”

He shrugged again. “Like I said, I could walk away.”

Abby growled—literally, and convincingly enough that he glanced over his shoulder to see if the iguana was back.

“I can’t believe you could be this…this heartless.” Abby went to the plate of cookies Rosie had left, picked out a ginger snap, sat on the couch, then took an enormous bite.

Most women he knew took small nibbles. Not Abby. Obviously this was a woman not afraid to tackle anything. She started to say something else but her mouth was full.

Max jumped in while he had the chance. “I’m not heartless. This is business. Maybe I should reopen it.” Sighing, he raked his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with it. Last week it was bad enough when I thought I’d inherited a brothel. Today I find out it’s a retirement home.”

“I heard that.”

They both started and turned to meet Rosie’s disapproving frown. “Better not let Mona hear you spewing that stuff. Me, I know better. And I like things just the way they are, but you heard her earlier, she and Candy have this idea that Viagra is gonna change things around here.”

At the mention of Viagra again, Max almost lost his cookies. Except he hadn’t had any. Surely Mona had been joking earlier.

Rosie picked up the plate. “I don’t want you two spoiling your supper.”

Wordlessly, he watched her carry the cookies back to the kitchen. Abby hadn’t said anything either. She probably blamed the whole idea on him. He reluctantly looked her way and realized she was trying to keep from laughing.

He relaxed a little. Abby wouldn’t think this was funny if it were for real. “She’s joking, right? About Mona and the Viagra?”

“I doubt it. Mona is always talking about the good old days.”

“And you think that’s funny?”

Her eyebrows drew together in a thoughtful frown, all traces of amusement gone. And then her lips tilted slightly. “Good for you, Max.”

“What?” Something was wrong. She called him Max.

“You have no intention of reopening the Swinging R.”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to.” Her smile grew more triumphant. “The expression on your face just said it all. You looked traumatized by the thought Rosie isn’t kidding.”

“Traumatized?” He snorted. “What are you smoking? There is nothing in this little hick town that could traumatize or surprise me.”

Abby’s expression fell, then it tightened. He’d hurt her feelings, and ticked her off, too. “I’m sorry our hick town doesn’t meet with your approval. Amazing, you’ve been here all of one day and you’re able to pass judgment already.”

“I didn’t mean to insult you.”

“We already settled that fallacy. In order for me to be insulted, I’d have to value your opinion.”

“I believe you’re right. Let’s see…Oh, yeah, you don’t give a hoot about what I think.”

“Exactly.” She folded her arms across her chest. It wasn’t a big chest, but nicely proportioned, well-rounded.

Apparently he’d taken too long to make that determination because when he raised his gaze to hers, she seemed ready to bite his head off. He cleared his throat, loosened his collar, checked his watch.

“Are you staying for dinner?” he asked, trying to change the subject and hoping a chunk of his hide wasn’t on her menu.

She stared at him in thoughtful silence for nearly a minute. “I’ll make you a deal.”

“What?”

“I can get rid of the iguana while you’re here, if you tell my grandmother she can’t stay.”

That was unexpected. He rubbed his jaw, noting he needed a shave. “What’s wrong with her staying here?”

Abby let out a low exasperated groan. “She doesn’t belong here. She belongs at home with me.”

“She lives with you?”

“Yes.”

“Anyone else? Husband, kids, boyfriend?” He shrugged when he saw the storm clouds gathering in her face. “Cats? Dogs?”

“None of your business. But no. It’s just Gramms and me.”

“So how come she ran away from home? You ground her or something?”

Sighing, she rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “Why do I bother?” She got up from the couch, dusted the cookie crumbs from her hands over an ashtray, then faced him with a phony smile. “Wish I could say it was nice meeting you, Mr. Bennett.”

“What are you getting all bent out of shape for? I can’t agree to throw an old lady—” he grimaced “—your grandmother out without understanding why.”

She stared at him again, in that measuring way, as if trying to come to a decision. “Apparently I’m just not enough fun for her. She thinks I’m a fuddy-duddy.”

“Well, you probably could loosen up a bit.”

“Here we go again.” She threw up her hands. “Did I ask for your opinion?”

Max grunted in disbelief. What happened to the old Bennett charm? Women didn’t treat him like this. They smiled and giggled and asked his opinion all the time. “Wouldn’t matter if you had. You’re obviously too stubborn to listen to anyone.”

“Ooh, I’m all Jell-O inside you have me so rattled with that snippy tone.”

Damn independent career women. This is why he stayed clear of them. They were too mouthy, too…immune. “Guess you know my answer. Estelle stays.”

Her smug expression wavered. “I’d hoped you could put our personality conflict aside and see reason.”

“Present me some reason to see. You haven’t told me a thing.”

She blinked, and visibly swallowed. “It’s sort of complicated. Part of it has to do with my involvement in the town, running for mayor…” she shrugged, shifted from one foot to the other, reluctance showing in her every movement “…even being a Cunningham.”

“She doesn’t agree with your running for mayor?”

“Gramms didn’t think I should come back to Bingo after college at all.”

Uneasiness crawled down his spine. This was personal stuff, none of his business. He should stop her. “Why are you here?”

“Do you still live in the place you grew up?”

“Well, yeah, but that’s Boston.”

“And you think Bingo is inferior, so why would anyone stay?”

He winced at the way she made it sound. “Guilty.”

“At least you’re honest.” Her smile was wry. “And at times I may even agree, but if we all, the townspeople here, felt that way, the town would just shrivel up and die.”

Max didn’t see what would be so bad about that but he decided to keep that gem of honesty to himself.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said without censure. “But Bingo isn’t a bad place to grow up. In fact, it’s a pretty damn good place to raise kids. And if anyone feels the need for bright lights and partying until dawn, Las Vegas is less than two and a half hours away.”

“But Estelle feels differently?” he asked, not sure how this information all fit together.

“No, of course not. She just wants someone else other than her granddaughter to carry the banner.”

“Or be the town martyr.”

Abby’s lips thinned. Anger glittered in her eyes. “No one is twisting my arm. I chose to come back of my own free will. Bingo needs me, so does my grandmother.”

Max mentally cringed. That would be good enough reason for him to get the hell out of town. He looked into Abby’s earnest eyes. Not her. She seized responsibility with eager arms. It finally hit him. Only twenty-six and she wanted to be mayor.

He took an uneven breath. Estelle was probably right. Abby needed to get a little selfish, go out and have fun, trudge through a couple of hangovers, get a life.

“Now,” she said with a weary sigh, as if she’d just spilled her guts, which to some degree she had. “Do you understand why I want my wonderful but misguided grandmother to come home? Why she needs to come home?”

Max rubbed the back of his cramped neck. He did not intend on getting in the middle of the women’s personal squabble. Nor could he kick the older woman out against her will. Which meant Abby was about to hate him forever.

## 5

ABBY WAITED until the waiter removed her plate of uneaten roasted chicken, mashed potatoes and buttered corn before she excused herself from the head table and made tracks for the bathroom.

Just like every other candidate in Bingo’s history, Abby and her volunteers held her fund-raising dinner at the community center, a modest room which her two campaign volunteers had crowded with tables and chairs, and a podium under which three tacky orange balloons floated. Behind that was the “Vote for Abby for Mayor” banner.

If you squinted you could see the crease in the fabric after Abby where Cunningham had been cut out and the banner had been taped back together. Someone had misspelled Cunningham. When one of the volunteers said it didn’t matter because everyone knew who Abby was, Abby didn’t miss the irony.

As she neared the bathroom, she swept her gaze over the room one last time in hopes of seeing her grandmother. She prayed she was here. Abby thought she had seen her briefly while dinner was being served, but she couldn’t figure out where Gramms was sitting, or why she hadn’t taken her place next to Abby at the head table.

Then again, maybe her mind was playing tricks on her and she hadn’t seen Gramms at all. Having gotten only three hours sleep last night was doing strange things to Abby’s concentration.

“Well, Abigail, don’t you look…” Mrs. Bacon took Abby’s hand, then stepped back to size her up “…different.”

Abby patted her hair and smiled at her boss, the middle school principal. “I thought the French twist would make me look older.”

Mrs. Bacon’s critical eye roamed Abby’s face. “You’re wearing more makeup, too. Don’t start looking too sophisticated or folks will think you’re clearing out just like every other young person who graduated from Bingo High in the past ten years.”

Abby frowned. She hadn’t thought of that when she’d decided to go for the more mature look. In truth, she hadn’t thought of much more than her grandmother and Max Bennett, the new thorn in her backside.

“I think most people know me better than that, Mrs. Bacon. I did come back to teach seventh grade just like I said I would.”

“That you did,” the older woman said, nodding her head, her gray, wiry hair barely contained in her customary bun. “And we’re all the better for it.”

Pride swelled in Abby’s chest. Mrs. Bacon’s compliments were few and far between. But more than that, such affirmations reassured Abby that coming back had been the right decision. Not that she ever doubted it, not really. Today had been an exception, a low time. It was one of the reasons she’d put her hair up, and worn makeup—to remind herself she was a grown-up. She hadn’t felt much like one today. All she’d wanted to do was curl into a ball and hide under the covers.

She missed Gramms.

Max Bennett, she wanted to tar and feather.

“By the way, where’s Estelle?” Mrs. Bacon peered around the room. “I thought she’d be sitting at the head table with you.”

“Abby! You have to speak in five minutes!” Trish, one of the volunteers, headed toward them, weaving in and out of the mob of tables and chairs.

“Please excuse me, Mrs. Bacon. If I don’t hurry to the rest room, it’s going to seem like an awfully long speech.” Abby smiled her apology and took off before she had to answer Mrs. Bacon’s question.

Trish hurried after her. “Have you seen your grandmother yet?”

Geez, Louise. Abby sighed. “What is this? Does everyone think she’s gone missing?

“Of course not. She’s here.”

Abby put on the brakes, and turned to Trish. The tall blonde stopped a hair short of running into her. “You saw Gramms?”

“Well, yeah.” Trish blessedly quit chomping her gum for a second. “That’s why I asked if you’d seen her yet. I want to know who the hunk is with her.”

Abby nearly choked. “Max is here?”

“You know him?” Trish’s eyes widened and she started to chomp her gum with a vengeance.

It had to be Max. He was the type of guy women reacted to like this—the bugged eyes, hair patting, lip-licking. Not her, of course. Disgusted, she turned away from Trish and pushed through the rest room door.

“Uh, I think that’s the wrong—”

Trish didn’t have to finish. The exact instant Abby realized she was entering the men’s room, she ran into Max Bennett on his way out.

Surprise flickered across his face, but he recovered quickly, and grabbed her upper arms when she stumbled backward. “Looking for me?” he asked, flashing a megawatt smile.

“Not even for an emergency lifeline.” She shook away from him, glaring fiercely to counteract her boneless legs.

Trish popped her gum loudly. Out of the corner of her eye, Abby saw the younger woman’s mouth drop open, prompting Abby to glance around to see if anyone else had overheard. They were in a remote corner, and fortunately, no one else was in sight.

Abby quickly stepped out of the men’s room doorway. “Trish, why don’t you go make sure everything is ready for my speech.”

Trish nodded, backing away, her gaze shooting from Abby to Max—especially Max.

“You look terrific,” he said, before Trish was out of earshot, and he lifted a hand to touch a stray tendril of hair at Abby’s temple.

She ducked away from him. He looked better than terrific in a perfectly fitted dark blue suit. Clean shaven, tanned, disgustingly even white teeth. And those beautiful green eyes…It would be a miracle if any of the women paid one second of attention to her speech. “What have you done with my grandmother?”

“What have I done with her?” One eyebrow lifted in amusement. “You give me way too much credit. Estelle has a mind of her own. Must run in the family.”

“Okay, here’s a simpler question. What the hell are you doing here?”

“My civic duty.”

“You’re not a resident of Bingo.”

“No, but I do own a business you’ve threatened to shut down.”

Abby’s breath caught. “This is only a speech, not a debate.”

“I understand.”

“I didn’t even plan on mentioning the Swinging R.”

Max smiled. “You sound nervous, Abby, maybe you ought to splash some cold water on your face before you have to get up on that podium.”

Cold water. Great idea. Right down the front of Max’s perfectly tailored suit.

“That would be a very bad move, Abby.” He shook his head. “It would look like poor sportsmanship at the very least.”

He couldn’t know what she’d been thinking… “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she muttered. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Hold on.” He grabbed her arm when she turned to go. “Someone should have caught this before now.”

She froze when he touched the back of her neck, his warm fingers grazing her skin and threatening an onslaught of goose bumps. The soft sound of a closing zipper startled her.

“There.” His hands fell away.

A tad disoriented, she took a deep breath and slid him a glance. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Call me later if you need help undressing.”

The haze evaporated. Abby snorted. “Now who’s giving you too much credit.”

He laughed. “Give ’em hell, Abigail,” he said softly, then sauntered away as if they’d just discussed the weather.

Abby took three deep breaths, then hurried into the correct rest room. She stared in the mirror at her flushed face. Her lipstick had worn off, certainly not from eating, as she hadn’t been able to do that all day. Her nose was shiny, her eyes too bright and she’d forgotten to bring her purse to tackle the repairs.

Topping it all off, she was late for her speech. Folks wouldn’t like that. They went to bed early in Bingo.

Quickly she checked her teeth and was about to turn away from the mirror when the stray tendril Max had touched caught her eye. It fell in a loose flattering curl on her cheek. When she turned slightly, golden highlights captured the light.

She did look nice tonight. At least better than usual. Certainly not on a par with Max’s standard, but nice. It annoyed the heck out of her that she gave a single hoot what Max thought, but there it was. His compliment had made her pulse speed and her heart had fluttered like a trapped butterfly.

Good thing she could at least maintain perspective. Guys like him didn’t go for girls like her. And the truth was, she wouldn’t be happy with someone like him. Not for the long haul, anyway. Of course she didn’t really know him, but she had some college experience with men like him. Good-looking, used to getting their way, never having to carry their fair share of the load because some poor smitten sap was willing to do it for them.

She straightened, feeling better about putting life back into perspective. Sure, she was still late, but she wasn’t feeling so rattled anymore.

As soon as she left the rest room, she heard the disgruntled murmuring of the crowd, and she hurried toward the podium. Halfway there she saw Gramms trying to get her attention, and all her newfound composure dissolved like a puddle of melted chocolate.

Abby had never been more glad to see her and she waited, in spite of the nosy looks and whispers, as Gramms got closer. Her familiar lilac scent reached Abby first, comforting her, making her feel a little emotional. Lack of sleep always made her a little sappy.

“You look beautiful,” Gramms whispered as she kissed Abby’s cheek.

“Where have you been? I was worried.” Abby ushered her away from straining ears to a spot near a deserted table.

“Mona couldn’t decide what to wear, and Candy misplaced Tami for an hour so we got here late. I’m sorry, honey. But surely you knew I’d come.”

“Mona and Candy are here with you.” Abby scanned the room without success. In fact, she couldn’t see Max either.

“Of course. So are Rosie and Herb and Max. He’s such a nice young man, don’t you think?”

Abby made a face. “Why are they all here?”

“To support you, of course.”

“Even after I threatened to shut them down?”

Gramms’s lips curved in a patient smile. “They know you didn’t mean it.”

“The place is a firetrap,” Abby murmured. “And it’s a wonder no one has broken a leg on those front steps.”

“Abigail.” The warning in her grandmother’s face and voice should have subdued Abby.

“If I’m mayor it’ll be my duty to review the condition of all public property. It’s nothing personal.”

“The Swinging R isn’t public property, young lady, you’re just being stubborn and manipulative.”

Abby gasped. “Gramms, I can’t believe you’re accusing me of being manipulative. Stubborn, I can see.”

Several heads turned, and Gramms said in a lowered voice, “Promise me you’ll leave the Swinging R out of our dispute.”

“Dispute? We’re not having a dispute. It’s just a tiny misunderstanding. Come home tomorrow and everything will be back to normal.”

Gramms sadly shook her head.

From the podium, Trish tested the microphone with an earsplitting gum pop.

Torn between saving potential constituents from Trish and pleading with Gramms, Abby looked from one woman to the other. The decision was made for her when Gramms kissed her cheek, wished her good luck, then headed toward the back of the room.

“ABBY SEEMS NERVOUS,” Mona commented to Estelle and Max. “That isn’t like her.”

Max studied Abby’s body language. Even sitting way back in the armpit of the room he could see Mona was right. He hoped he hadn’t said anything to upset Abby. He laughed at himself, thinking about how she would react to that notion. She’d say he was giving himself too much credit again.

“I’m afraid that has something to do with me,” Estelle said, sighing. “I hope I’m doing the right thing.”

To his disgust, Max’s curiosity was piqued, and he looked at Estelle, hoping she’d explain. Not that this crazy nosiness was new. After all, here he was at a sad excuse for a fund-raiser, sitting in the far corner with four older women, only one of whom, he suspected, didn’t have her receiver off the hook.

“Maybe we should sit up closer,” Mona said. “Being able to see you might comfort her.”

Max shuddered at the thought. He liked sitting back here in the semidarkness where he didn’t have too good a view of the ladies’ dresses, especially Mona’s. The plunging neckline and short tight red silk skirt were almost indecent. Well, not on a twenty or thirty-something, but on someone old enough to be his grandmother?

He glanced around the room, grateful that the rest of the audience sat in front of them and hadn’t seemed to notice.

“Weren’t you listening to Estelle?” Across the table, Rosie stopped fanning herself and frowned at Mona. “If Estelle thinks she’s the one who’s upset Abby, why in the hell would she sit in clear view and upset her some more?”

“Was I talking to you?” Mona angled her face away from Rosie, and in a loud whisper to Estelle said, “Guess she remembered her hearing aid.”

“You’re the one who needs a hearing aid. You obviously weren’t listening to Estelle.” Rosie lifted her chin, faced the podium again and resumed her fanning.

There had been an argument over who got to wear the last pair of black lace garters. Apparently, they hadn’t reached an amicable agreement.

“Ladies, I think Abby is about to start speaking,” Max said quietly, and received three conciliatory smiles.

Candy hadn’t bothered to enter the conversation at all, or even look at him. He figured she was still ticked at him for making her tie Tami to a pole in the garage. Tough. Just thinking about the critter gave him the willies, especially after today’s episode of hide-and-seek. No way that thing was sleeping in the same house with him.

The tall thin blonde who’d been with Abby earlier seemed to be having trouble with the microphone. She called a man from the audience up to the podium to help, while Abby stood aside and fidgeted with a small stack of index cards.

“Oh, dear, she is nervous,” Estelle whispered, leaning toward him. “She normally doesn’t need notes to speak.”

Max patted her hand. He liked Estelle, and frankly couldn’t figure out why she wanted to hang out at the Swinging R. The rest of the ladies had their good sides, too, but the place was definitely bordering on becoming a loony bin.

“If she’s prepared notes, then it must mean she was nervous before this evening and it has nothing to do with you.” He watched Estelle’s expression sag, and wondered again why the devil he was sitting here, and why he cared about what happened to Abby and her quest for public office.

Maybe it was his advancing age prompting his interest, like women who followed soap operas for half a lifetime, or retired men who sat around diners and barbershops retelling old war stories. God, the thought was depressing.

His gaze drew to Abby. More likely it was because she’d gotten under his skin, made him wonder about her, and what made her tick. He’d been disappointed when she hadn’t stayed for dinner, even though he’d hardly expected her to after he suggested she butt out of her grandmother’s business just as he intended to do.

“I’m afraid it does,” Estelle said, breaking into his preoccupation.

He hesitated, having lost the thread of their conversation. “Does what?”

“Abigail’s nerves. It has everything to do with me. She doesn’t understand why I’ve moved out.”

“Have you?” He heard himself ask the question, but he couldn’t believe it. Stay out of this, he told himself. “Permanently?”

“That depends.” She gave him an embarrassed look. “Oh, you don’t want to hear our problems.”

He shrugged. “If it would help to talk about it, I don’t mind listening.”

“Oh, that’s so nice, but no, really…”

He straightened. “No problem. Honest.”

A shrewd smile slightly curved her lips. She tried to hide it. Too late, he’d seen it. She’d baited him, dammit, and he’d fallen for it like a two-ton drunk elephant.

“Abigail thinks the town is going to fall apart without her. Not in a vain sense, of course, but she has this silly idea that Cunninghams are the glue that keeps Bingo together. And she feels she needs to do her share.”

He frowned. It wasn’t like the place was called Cunninghamville, nor did he see evidence that the family controlled the town.

Estelle smiled as if reading his mind. “There has been a prominent civic servant in our family for several generations. Prominent by Bingo standards, anyway. But it really goes deeper than that.” She paused, and glanced over at Mona and Rosie who were busy arguing over who needed glasses.

He thought it odd that she was willing to tell him something she didn’t want her friends to hear but he gave her an encouraging smile and leaned closer.

“Abigail was already leaving for college when her parents died but she took it very hard. We all did. They were too young to die in that senseless truck accident, but for Abby, the sense of abandonment seemed to be the straw that broke the camel’s back, if you pardon the old expression.

“People had started leaving Bingo about ten years before, and one by one, all her little friends began moving away. She’d no sooner find someone new to play with when the child’s father would find a job in Las Vegas or Reno and off the family would go. Not a single one of her high school friends returned after college, either. Only Abby.” Estelle sighed. “I fear, mainly, to watch over me.”

“Ah, so you feel guilty.”

“There’s that, but equally upsetting is that Abigail has tied herself to this town for no good reason. There aren’t enough jobs here, so of course people will continue to leave. She can’t take it personally and she can’t save everyone. I don’t think she can divorce herself from her image of what the town used to be. But she can’t recreate the past. And she certainly isn’t responsible for trying to do it.”

The blonde suddenly called for everyone’s attention via the now working microphone, and grateful for the distraction, Max slumped back in his chair. Estelle had warned him it was complicated. She wasn’t kidding. Simply having listened, he felt as weary as if he’d just run a marathon.

With new interest, he watched Abby smile at everyone and begin her speech. It seemed more like a pep rally, he realized as she got deeper into it, her nervousness apparently forgotten. She must have been a cheerleader in high school.

It tired him out just watching her enthusiasm gain momentum as she talked about her vision for better classrooms, developing sports teams to occupy the youngsters and enable them to compete with neighboring schools, and eventually, the prospect of building a community college just outside of town.

When someone asked where they were going to find the students to fill the college, Abby smiled serenely and explained how she had a plan to attract more businesses to the area.

Max thought she’d gone off the deep end. No sane businessman would move his concern way out here no matter what the tax advantage, but no one questioned her. Instead, there was lots of head-nodding and satisfied smiles. Obviously she was well-respected and trusted. And Max got the most peculiar feeling in the pit of his stomach. A kind of strange mix of anticipation and longing and helplessness, almost like when he was a kid and he’d wanted something really badly but it was just out of his reach.

He didn’t know what it meant to have that same peculiar feeling now. He would have blamed it on the strange-looking chicken they’d served for dinner except he’d missed that dubious pleasure.

His gaze drew to Abby. It had something to do with her, although what, he had no idea. He couldn’t even identify with her. It was impossible for him to understand welcoming someone else’s responsibility, much less asking for it. Hell, it was sort of like begging for a migraine.

Abby not only took responsibility in stride, she embraced it. What must she think of him?

He felt raw suddenly, exposed. It made no sense, made him want to sink low in his chair.

Until he thought he heard someone yell his name.

## 6

ABBY SCANNED the sea of smiling faces. The speech had gone well. She’d quickly shed most of her nervousness. And as expected, the roasted chicken from Edna’s Edibles was a hit. Everything was going fine until she thought she heard a man’s gruff voice yell out Max Bennett’s name.

She glanced around the room again, but she didn’t see Max, nor anyone who might be calling to him. Most of the people were facing her, still chuckling over the little joke she’d made about everyone getting home before acting mayor Cleghorn had the streets rolled up. A few others were looking around, mostly just distracted, probably by the lateness of the hour. Nothing unusual.

Great. Now her overtaxed brain was playing tricks on her. No one here even knew Max, and anyway, the people of Bingo weren’t so impolite as to holler over her speech, even if she had just wrapped things up.

“Okay, anyone have any questions?” she asked, more as a friendly gesture than anything else. Ida Brewster and Tommy Lee Smith had already fired two at her earlier. She expected everyone wanted to go home by now.

“Aren’t you going to answer mine?”

At the same gruff voice Abby thought she’d heard earlier, everyone twisted in their seats to see who it was. She herself squinted, trying to see past the last grouping of tables but she still couldn’t identify the speaker. It hadn’t helped that his voice was somewhat garbled. Heaven help her, she hoped Fritz Walker hadn’t crawled into his moonshine again and wanted to pick a philosophical fight about today’s mores.

“I’m sorry,” she said, still unsuccessfully scanning the room. “I didn’t hear the question.”

“I wanna know about the Swinging R, what that Max Bennett plans to do with it.”

Mention of the Swinging R started the murmuring again. Abby’s patience slipped three notches. She shaded her eyes against the lights’ glare and strained for a better look. “Fritz, is that you?”

No one answered.

Something was fishy. The Swinging R wasn’t an issue. She had made it a personal one, but politically, no one had questioned the existence of the brothel in her entire lifetime. Why would someone bring it up now?

“I’d like to see whom I’m addressing before I answer the question,” she stated firmly, and the few people who hadn’t already craned their necks for a look, turned around to see who it was.

Herb Hanson stepped out from behind a large fake ficus plant. “I guess that would be me.” He shuffled forward a couple of feet, his face redder than the bandana around his neck.

“Why you wanna know? You finally gonna marry Mona?” someone shouted out, and everyone else laughed.

“That ain’t none of your business,” Herb said, and headed for the far corner of the room, grumbling under his breath. Something made him stop, or someone.

He slowly turned around and faced Abby, his reluctance as obvious as white icing on a chocolate cake. He stuck a finger in between his neck and bandana and tried to loosen it. “Well, Abigail, what’s your answer?”

Someone clearly had put Herb up to this to rattle her, but she wasn’t giving in easily. Maybe she could even embarrass him into sitting down and keeping his mouth shut. “I’m sorry. Could you repeat the question?”

“Oh, come on, Abigail, you heard me.”

“With all the commotion, I forgot,” she said with a sweet smile and a small shrug.

He just stood there for a moment, and she hoped he was reconsidering allowing himself to be a puppet for whomever was pulling the strings. Not that it was too hard to guess who that would be. Mona, probably. Except that didn’t make any sense. Why would she want to put the Swinging R in the spotlight?

A sudden thought struck Abby. Viagra. Was Mona serious?

“Did you say you want to reopen the Swinging R?” she asked and received exactly the reaction she wanted.

While the audience issued a collective gasp, Herb’s cheeks colored with outrage, and he whipped off his tan Stetson and slapped the side of his leg with it. “Are you loco?”

She raised her brows in innocence. “I’m not really sure what you’re getting at.”

Herb glanced over his shoulder. Abby tried to see whom he was looking at but a row of silk trees in the back of the room blocked her view. When she moved her head slightly to the right, she saw him.

Max Bennett.

What the dickens did he have up his sleeve?

“Tell me exactly what you want, Herb.” Her patience was gone, the sharpness in her voice vibrating into the microphone and bouncing off the walls.

“Gosh darnit, you’re getting me all confused.”

“Why? Don’t you know what you want? Or maybe you’re speaking on someone else’s behalf? Mr. Bennett’s, perhaps? Did he ask you to do his dirty work for him?”

Herb started stammering, and regret pricked Abby for picking on him. She started to let him off the hook when Max stepped forward.

“That’s enough, Abby,” he said, holding her gaze. “I assure you I don’t know anything about this.”

The room grew absurdly quiet as everyone gawked at him. Then like dominoes, the younger women started putting their heads together and whispering. The older ones seemed to all turn their avid attention to Abby.

She cleared her throat, then gritted her teeth when the sound echoed through the microphone. “Fine. Then if there aren’t any more questions, we’ll wrap this evening up.”

“Come on, Abigail,” someone from the audience yelled. “Who is this guy?”

She’d brought this on herself, she realized with disgust, by trying to provoke poor Herb. Her only comfort was that Max looked about as happy as she was over this situation. “This is Maxwell Bennett. Mr. Bennett is Lily McIntyre’s nephew, and the new owner of the Swinging R.”

The silence lasted only a moment, and then the collective murmur grew to a roar. Obviously, few if anyone had seen Max before now, although how they could have missed him was beyond her. He was taller than almost anyone here, his shoulders definitely broader. He was only one of three men who wore a suit. Plus, he had green eyes.

Finally, Virgil Mayflower, who owned both the gas station and the general store, stood and approached Max with an extended hand. “Welcome to Bingo, son. We’re sure glad to see you.”

Max smiled and shook Virgil’s hand, but Abby could tell he was uncomfortable. No one else could possibly detect his unease, he was too polished, and it puzzled her that she was able to see it. She didn’t know him well enough, yet she had no doubt she was correct.

“You just get into town?” Virgil asked, stepping back to appraise Max, frowning as he slicked back his dark straight hair.

Virgil took pride in the fact that he was always the best-dressed man in Bingo, and generally he was, but his dark brown western-cut suit didn’t hold a candle to the custom Italian design Max wore.

“Yesterday.”

“Good, good. Glad you could make it tonight. Wish you’d spoken up sooner.”

Max swept a glance around the room. Everyone’s gaze was glued to him. “I leave tomorrow.”

“What?” Virgil reared back his head. “Then what did you decide to do with the Swinging R?”

“Don’t know yet.”

Abby smiled to herself. If Max thought he could get away with that answer, he was in for one heck of a surprise. Virgil was also the richest man in Bingo but he was always looking for ways to increase his business, and probably the only one who’d like to see the brothel restored to its glory days to provide more traffic through town.

“When are you gonna know?” Virgil demanded, his legendary impatience sharpening his tone. “That old place has been run-down for years. You look like you could afford to put quite a few bucks in the place.”

Max reacted with a bark of laughter. “You seem to have a strong opinion. Care to buy the place?”

Some people gasped, others laughed. Abby leaned on the podium, enjoying the fireworks and being off the hot-seat.

“Well, maybe I just might.” The telltale vein popped out along Virgil’s receding hairline. He was both angry and flustered, not a pretty combination for him.

“Ah, shut up, Virgil, and let the young man speak,” Mabel Salazar said, crossing her arms over her enormous bosom. “We all know you wouldn’t put a plug nickel into the place. You’re just interested in making money, not spending it.”

Other than a murmur or two, no one said anything. Virgil had both influence and a temper, and people didn’t like having to drive to the next town for groceries when he got steamed.

“Hey, Virgil.” Max surprised the older man by shaking his hand again, distracting him from the menacing look he was giving Mabel. “No hard feelings, huh? I had a rough flight, and I’m pretty tired. I’m still trying to decide what to do with the place.”

Virgil gave a grudging shrug, but he still looked peeved when he slid Mabel another look. “No problem.”

“If it’s not too much of an imposition, and if you have some time tomorrow morning, maybe we could have coffee and you could give me some ideas.”

The way Virgil’s chest suddenly puffed out was almost comical. “Sure, son, I can probably fit you into my schedule.”

“Terrific. I’ll call your office and check with your secretary.”

That startled laughs out of half the audience. Virgil had neither. He had a desk in his garage.

“If I’m not there my wife will know where I am,” he mumbled and went back to his table.

Abby silently shook her head. Amazing. Max had even charmed that old goat Virgil. But she’d eat her day planner if Max had any intention of giving Virgil’s opinion a passing thought. What the heck was he up to?

Maybe she wasn’t giving him enough credit. Maybe he’d just wanted to help defuse the situation. And maybe Candy’s new pet iguana would learn to fly.

“Sorry for the interruption.” Max gave her a slight bow of his head. “Abby.”

The way he’d said her name sent a shiver down her spine. It sounded entirely too familiar, intimate almost. And it wasn’t her imagination, judging by the exchange of knowing glances among the women.

She straightened and gave him a tight smile. “No harm done. We’re through here.” Her smile broadened for the audience. “Thank you all so much for coming.”

“Not so fast.”

Oh, no. Abby briefly closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she watched Mona and her grandmother march toward the podium. Behind them, Mona dragged Herb, who’d slunk off earlier.

“We still want to know why you want to close down the Swinging R.” Mona stopped beside Max, who looked like he’d rather be on the front line of a pie-throwing contest.

Big mistake, Mona, Abby thought with a smug lift of her chin. The townspeople would probably be on Abby’s side…

Her chin came down and her jaw slackened as her gaze bounced from one face to the next. Everyone stared at her in such indignant shock as if she’d suggested they all get naked.

“What?” She turned up her palms. “I didn’t say that,” she muttered, and Mona snorted. “Not exactly, anyway.”

“You mean, you wanna board up the doors and windows?” Mabel Salazar asked in a scandalized voice.

“That’s not—” She got cut off by several people speaking at once.

“You going to tear it down?” someone called out.

“She can’t do that. The place is practically a national landmark.”

“Where would all the ladies go?”

“That’s a horrible idea, Abigail. Your mama and papa would turn over in their graves.”

Everyone kept talking until Abby wanted to clamp her hands over her ears. Instead, she glared at Mona, who had the audacity to grin and wink. Beside her, Gramms shifted from one foot to the other, looking distraught.

Abby felt no pity. This was supposed to be her big night and it was turning into something horrible. How could her grandmother have participated in this calamity? “Would everyone please calm down and listen?” she began. If only they understood…

When the noise only grew louder, Max picked up an empty water glass and hit the side with a spoon. It made enough of an odd tinkling noise that he got most everyone’s attention.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said with one of his charming smiles, “perhaps I can help clear up this misunderstanding.” The women all smiled back, and some of them started fanning themselves. The men waited rather patiently for him to continue.

Mixed feelings plagued Abby. She was glad he got them to settle down, but she didn’t want to be rescued by him, or feel obliged to him in any way.

“Yesterday I arrived to a couple of surprises.” He glanced at Mona, and then smiled at all and sundry again. “You see, Aunt Lily’s will wasn’t all that specific.”

He paused, and a brief silence followed, until comprehension dawned and the crowd started laughing. Mona looked a tad put out, and Abby didn’t mind that one bit.

Max gave a good-natured shrug. “To make a long story short, Abby was teasing me when she mentioned something about shutting down the Swinging R.”

His eyes found hers, daring her to contradict him.

Virgil turned to her. “So you don’t really have some foolish idea to close those gals down.”

She hesitated, stewing over the corner Max had backed her into. “Close those gals down? We were talking about a place, a building, not the ladies.”

“Same thing.” Virgil waved a dismissive hand. “The Swinging R is practically an institution and so are them gals.”

A chorus of “yeahs” made her teeth grind together.

“So, what is it, Abigail?” Virgil had gone to stand next to Max and Mona. Wasn’t that just cozy?

She glanced at Gramms. Their eyes met for a second, and then Gramms looked away. That hurt.

Abby sniffed. “Weren’t you all listening to what I said tonight? I have enough on my plate to worry about without expending my energy on the Swinging R.”

Virgil frowned, along with several others. “That means you’re leaving the Swinging R alone?”

She glanced at Max. He pressed his lips together, trying to suppress a grin, and she gave him a look that told him how delighted she was to provide him with all this entertainment.

He let the grin take over, then mouthed, “Just cry uncle.”

That did it. She tapped the microphone, and assured that it still worked, she leaned toward it and said, “Okay, everyone, if you have a few more minutes, let’s talk about the Swinging R. How many of you have been out there lately?”

The men all sat there stone-faced, while some of their wives waited for their answers.

After a long silence, Herb held up a hand, and said, “I have.”

Everyone roared with laughter.

Mona gave his arm a light smack with the back of her hand. “They already know that, Herbie.”

Abby waited until the crowd settled down. “All right, I have a question for you, Herbert. What sort of shape is the place in? Do you think it’s safe?”

He started loosening his bandana again, glancing at Mona and looking as though he wanted to hightail it out of the hall. “Well, I’m not sure.”

“What about the back steps? There were a few rotting boards you had to replace, weren’t there? And didn’t a couple of others come loose. Aren’t you afraid Mona, or one of the other ladies might fall and hurt themselves? Didn’t you ask them to avoid using the back door if possible?”

“For crying out loud, you sound like a prosecutor,” Mona said. “You want to be mayor, or are you looking to take over Chester Southby’s law practice?”

“Sounds to me like she’s the one doing the avoiding—the issue, that is.” Virgil narrowed his gaze on her. “Maybe you need some competition, young lady. Someone besides old Cleghorn.”

Abby couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She waited for someone to come to her defense, to tell Virgil he was crazy, but most of the women were too busy ogling Max, and the men didn’t want the place shut down.

She looked at Gramms for support, but she turned away. Abby sucked in a breath. Geez Louise, if her own grandmother wasn’t on Abby’s side…

Boy, was she screwed.

## 7

ABBY HAD JUST FINISHED her lesson plans for next week when someone knocked at her classroom door. For the first time ever, she’d closed it, having no desire to talk with anyone. Last night had ended in a disaster and she needed time to lick her wounds.

But, of course, closing her door, something she never did, probably invited more speculation, more curiosity, more trouble. She didn’t care, not as long as she had some peace and quiet. And didn’t have to hear the name Swinging R. Or Max Bennett.

She hesitated a long time before forcing herself to get up from her desk and head for the door. It was probably Mrs. Bacon, demanding to know what Abby thought she was doing closing a door in Bingo, Nevada. Sometimes she truly didn’t know why she ever came back. Max was right. It was nothing but a hick town.

Cringing at her own thoughts, she opened the door, and sighed with disgust. “What the hell are you doing here? Trying to finish me off?”

Max frowned. “You can’t possibly blame me for last night.”

Wordlessly, she turned and went back to her desk. When he followed, she snapped, “Did I invite you in?”

He shut the door behind him. “How can you think last night was my fault?”

That made her a little nervous. If she were speaking to him she’d tell him to leave it open. But then he was likely to get the wrong idea. Good thing she wasn’t speaking to him.

She picked up a Walkman lying on her desk, adjusted the headphones on her ears and cranked up the volume before she slid a stack of tests to correct in front of her. Before she could grab her red pen, Max lifted the headphones off her head from behind.

“Hey!” She twisted around and scowled at him. “Ouch!”

“Don’t move. It’s caught in your hair. And turn the damn volume down.”

She turned it up. He jerked the headphones which pulled her hair. “Ouch!”

“Gee, sorry.”

She caved in and lowered the volume before it caused her permanent hearing damage, then tried to take the headphones from him. “I’ll do this.”

“Keep still.” He swatted her hands away.

When she made a second attempt, he grabbed both her wrists with one hand. Then, to her utter and complete astonishment, leaned down and kissed the side of her neck, his lips warm and firm against her skin.

She froze, but her pulse went bonkers. Heat filled her cheeks and belly and lower. She swallowed hard, not sure what to say, what to do.

He released her hands and extracted the headphones from her hair. “There.” Stepping back, he looked at her as if nothing had happened.

Should she ignore the kiss? Yell at him?

Kiss him back?

No, that was out of the question. Definitely out of the question. She’d have to be an idiot.

She stared up into his beautiful green eyes.

As calmly as possible, she got up and opened the door. “I thought you were leaving today,” she said, and returned to her desk, her gaze lowered, carefully avoiding the amusement in his face.

And then it hit her. He really was supposed to leave today.

Was he on his way to the airstrip now? Her panicked gaze slid his way. He wore jeans and a white polo shirt. That told her nothing.

“Well?” she asked, her voice sounding oddly calm. To her amazement, she didn’t want him to go.

“Why do you want to know?” He flashed a grin and sat on the edge of her desk. “You going to miss me?”

“Like I would an ulcer.”

He made a disbelieving sound. “Seriously, you know I had nothing to do with last night.”

“I seem to recall you being right in the middle of things.”

“Hold on. I only stepped forward to keep you from pounding on poor Herb.”

“I wasn’t pounding on him.” Frustrated, she moved a stack of books with too much force and one of them went flying off her desk. “And who do you think you are barging your way in here and kissing me?”

He’d stooped to retrieve the history book, but he paused for a second, a smile spreading across his face. Then he scooped up the text, laid it on her desk and sat on one of the students’ chairs, facing her. “Is that what has you in such a delightful mood?”

She forced herself to meet his gaze just because he probably figured she wouldn’t. “What do you want? Another piece of my hide?”

“Sounds too painful. How about lunch?”

“It’s three o’clock.”

“Your point is?”

“Normal people had lunch hours ago, not that I consider you normal.” She smiled. “Or that I would ever think of having lunch or anything else with you.”

His gaze had strayed to the wall clock, and he was frowning slightly. “Three, huh?”

She took a closer look at him. He was unshaved, and his too-long hair was a little disheveled. “Did you just wake up?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Not exactly.”

Appalled, she sank back in her chair and stared at him. “You did.”

“Did not. I’ve already stopped by Chester Southby’s office and everything.”

“He’s still away fishing.”

“So, I only said I stopped by.”

“That took all of two minutes.”

Max grunted his annoyance. “What are you? My social secretary all of a sudden?”

Abby did little to hide her smile as she relaxed in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. “Sorry. I’m sure you spent your day deciding what you’ll do with the Swinging R.”

“You’re not mayor yet, sweetheart. I don’t need you poking your nose in my affairs.”

“But it was okay for you to kiss me?”

“You’re still fixated on that?” Amusement lit his eyes. “That wasn’t even a real kiss. I just did that to get you to keep still.”

“You presumptuous…”

“It worked.”

Momentarily speechless, Abby stared at him in indignation. When she finally opened her mouth to give him a good dressing down, she caught some movement out of the corner of her eye.

“What are you two arguing about now?”

Abby glowered at Virgil, standing at the door, his arms crossed above his big, round belly, the snaps of his red western shirt ready to pop. “Put out that cigar.”

She’d sounded more terse than she meant to, but her nerves were shot. She was afraid he’d heard too much, and by the time the story made its rounds, they’d have her and Max french-kissing in the back seat of her car.

With a bulldog frown, Virgil pulled the stogie out of his mouth. “Don’t get your bowels in an uproar. I haven’t even lit the damn thing yet.”

Abby glanced at all the papers she had yet to grade and sighed. “What is this? Grand Central Station?”

Max stood, and nodded to the older man, then looked at Abby. “What do you know about Grand Central?”

“Probably from going to that fancy school back East,” Virgil said, and proceeded to make himself at home on one of the students’ chairs.

Abby winced inside, waiting for the chair to break. Of course the upside would be getting rid of Virgil. Max, she didn’t know what to do with yet. She wanted him to leave, yet she wanted him to stay.

Reluctantly, she slid him a glance. He was looking at her, curiosity making his green eyes glitter.

What she really wanted was for him to give her a real kiss.

Dammit. The thought added salt to her raw nerves. “What do you want, Virgil?”

He frowned at her. “You’re not still miffed over last night, are you? We were just having a healthy discussion, is all.”

“No, I’m not miffed. But I do have a lot of papers to grade.”

Virgil glanced at Max, then pointedly looked at Abby, and grinned.

“Mr. Bennett was just leaving,” she said. “Hopefully, not just my office, but Bingo—even better, Nevada.”

Virgil chuckled. “I sure hope not. We have a proposition for him.”

“Proposition?” Max looked nervous.

Abby felt a flutter in her stomach herself. “We?”

“A bunch of us from last night had coffee this morning and we were thinking—” Virgil looked around the classroom. “You got any water in here?”

“Virgil,” Abby warned between clenched teeth.

A confused frown clouded Max’s face, as though he were trying to wade through the undercurrent, make sense of what was not being said.

“He doesn’t want any water,” she explained. “He just likes to build suspense. Virgil, you always do this, and for your information, no one in town likes it. They think you’re a drama king.”

Virgil scoffed and looked at Max for support.

Max only shrugged. “She could’ve called you a drama queen.”

Abby immediately looked down at her desktop blotter to keep from laughing out loud. It was enough to imagine Virgil’s inevitable bug-eyed expression at that remark.

“Your grandmother’s right, Abigail,” Virgil muttered. “You’re just no fun.”

Her gaze flew up to the older man’s face, the laughter instantly dying inside her. “Is that what she told you?”

Virgil shifted in his seat, suddenly not so eager to meet her eyes. “Not in so many words. In fact, Estelle didn’t mean—” He scratched his belly. “Oh, hell, I ain’t getting in the middle of you two hens.”

Her gaze flickered to Max. The trace of sympathy she saw on his face only fueled her anger. “Did Gramms put you up to something? Is that why you’re here?”

Dread coiled like a snake, making her stomach cramp as she waited for the man’s answer. If he lied to her, she’d know it. Whenever he spun tales, his left ear wiggled. As children, she and her friends used to laugh about it.

She wasn’t laughing now. It seemed as though the entire town was in on some sick joke, except her. She was the punch line. This was all so unlike Gramms.

Abby hoped there wasn’t a medical reason behind her grandmother’s odd behavior. The thought subdued her anger, but stoked her fear. She was going to call Doc Sawyer, whether Gramms liked it or not.

“Don’t go getting all paranoid. My being here hasn’t got anything to do with Estelle.” Virgil turned to Max, obscuring her view of his ear. “I hear you’re planning on staying a spell.”

“Who told you that?” Max asked, his mouth tightening with annoyance.

“Herb Hanson. And being as he’s your driver, I figure he ought to know.”

“He ought to know to keep his mouth shut, too,” Max mumbled and glanced irritably at Abby.

“Why are you staying?” she asked in such a curt tone that both men stared at her. “Surely our hick town can’t interest you that much.”

“It doesn’t. You forget I have a business concern here.”

Virgil started stuttering, his gaze on Abby. “Wh-who are you calling a hick?”

“Don’t look at me.” She moved her chin in Max’s direction. “He’s the one who thinks Bingo is some backwoods town.”

Max steadily met her gaze. “I knew you were looking to pick a fight from the moment I walked in here.”

“Then you should’ve turned right back around.”

“I sure should have.”

“It’s not too late.”

Virgil made a sound of disgust, then struggled to get up from the chair, but his belly got in the way of the traylike student desk attached to the arm. When his face started reddening, Abby took pity and showed him how to lift the desk up and slide it down to the side of the chair.

“Darn it, Abigail, you could have told me that contraption was movable.” Virgil rubbed his butt. “Those chairs aren’t fit for midgets.” His frown cleared. “At least you two banshees have stopped your sniping.”

“Don’t count on it,” Max said. “Looks like she’s winding up for round two.”

“Says you.” Abby lifted her chin. “I’m more mature than that.”

“So why’d you make a big deal over the kiss?”

She let out a low shriek. That smile was going to get wiped off his face if it was the last thing she did.

“What kiss?” Virgil looked from one to the other. “You two been necking in the classroom? You can’t do that.”

“Oh, please.” Abby’s cheeks heated. “You know me better than that, Virgil Mayflower.”

“Then why is your face stained with guilt?”

“Yeah, Abigail, why is that?” Max’s slow grin was anything but charming right now.

“Can’t you tell he’s goading you, Virgil?” She leaned back in her chair, trying to look relaxed. Thank goodness for the desk blocking their view of her shaky legs.

Nervous energy ricocheted through her. Why was Max staying all of a sudden? Why had he stopped by to see her? Darn it, she hadn’t even given him a chance to explain. Of course he’d been too busy kissing her. Not real kisses, as he’d pointed out. But, geez, was she ever itching to…

Feeling prickly and warm suddenly, she looked over at him. He was watching her, his brows drawn together in undisguised interest as though he were trying to trespass into her thoughts.

She averted her eyes, and found Virgil watching both of them. He had a horribly interested, almost excited look on his face, and Abby knew she wouldn’t be showing up at the diner for a long while. She hated being the subject of gossip, one of the few things she despised about smalltown living. But that had never been a problem for her until now. Until Max.

“Look, you two,” she said, standing abruptly. “I’d love to sit here and trade barbs with you but I have to work for a living.”

“Don’t you want to hear our proposition?” Virgil asked, a shrewd gleam entering his eye. “It involves you somewhat.”

She’d almost forgotten about that, and so had Max judging from the way he straightened and peered warily at the other man. Tempted to tell him she didn’t give a hoot what he had to say to Max, she simply couldn’t. Her curiosity was piqued all over again.

“Now that I have your attention.” Virgil looked from one to the other. “The committee feels that it would be beneficial if—” He stopped short and snapped his fingers. “Darn it. I forgot something.”

One look from Abby, and he added, “It’s not what you think. I’m not trying to draw this out, so don’t start pounding on me.” He quickly looked at Max. “Tell me, son, what do you do?”

“Do?”

“How do you earn a living? Besides running brothels.”

Max gave Virgil a threatening look. “I do not run brothels.”