Never Again

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Never Again by Linda Winstead Jones

Chapter One

Rob's hand no longer rested on her knee. Carla held her breath as that hand inched up to her thigh. It was bad enough that she had to spend her Saturday night at the rodeo watching animals and men being battered. Now that the evening was nearing a close, her date had decided to raise the stakes. For the third time Carla lifted Rob's hand and dropped it onto his own lap. Thank goodness she'd met Rob here at the rodeo. Her own car waited across the street in the parking garage. Too bad he sat between her and the aisle; he might hamper her escape once this evening was over. Carla couldn't wait to get home. Her friend and employee Teri had set up this blind date, and she deserved a late-night phone call and an earful for her trouble. Okay, on first glance Rob wasn't so bad. He was handsome and well-dressed — except for the cowboy boots, which she sincerely hoped were a concession to the rodeo and not a fashion statement. But once he opened his mouth the fantasy ended. He knew darn well he was good-looking, and he obviously expected Carla to be impressed. Worse, he had hooted loudly several times during the evening. Carla Pierce was nearly thirty years old. She did not hoot, nor did she date men who did.

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Never again, Carla thought as a cowboy was thrown. She closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to see the poor man being dragged around in the dirt. Rob's hand returned to her knee. "Excuse me, ma'am?" a deep voice interrupted Carla's silent vow to give up men once and for all. She opened her eyes, expecting to find a rodeo fan trying to make his way to a seat. Instead, she looked up at the man who leaned over Rob. He wore a dark gray suit, not jeans and cowboy boots. And he wasn't smiling. She remembered him too well. Kenny Henson had been yet another disastrous blind date, two years ago. Since her allotted patience for the evening was at an end, she snapped, "What do you want?" "Come with me, ma'am." Rob bristled. "Mister, I don't know who you are, but the lady's with me." People in the immediate vicinity were listening. They only got more curious when Kenny lifted one side of his jacket with two fingers to display his badge and gun as he glared down at Rob. "So, are you working with her now? Maybe I should ask you to come along, too." Rob paled and dropped back in his seat. He removed his hand from Carla's knee. "Hey, I didn't know you were a cop. I just met this chick tonight. I barely know her. We didn't even come here together, we just happen to be sitting…" Carla grabbed her purse from beneath the seat and stood. People really were staring now. "What do you want?" she asked in a lowered voice as she worked her way past Rob. "You'll find out soon enough," Kenny answered. When she turned toward the exit and began to climb the stairs, he took her arm as if he were escorting her. Officially.

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Their one date had been a disaster, so when he had called her the next day and asked for another she'd been surprised. Not surprised enough to say yes and subject herself to another humiliating and awkward date, but still surprised. Like Rob, on first glance, Kenny was a keeper. He had dark blond hair. Great blue eyes. Wide shoulders. The man had a face any woman, including Carla, would remember fondly, and he had to be at least six foot two. And he had quite a grip, she noticed as he led her into the hallway where the concessions were located. Gentle but definitely firm. "Okay," she said as she shook that grip off. "What are you up to?" "Nothing." Carla stepped back and glared at him. "Then what was that all about?" She pointed toward the door that would lead her back to her seat — if she were so foolish. Detective Kenny Henson of the Huntsville Police Department flashed a smile that other women probably found charming. Other women who hadn't spent one miserable evening in his company. "I just rescued you," he explained. "Do you need a ride home?" For a moment Carla stared at him. "What makes you think I needed to be rescued?"

"My highly attuned detective skills." "Maybe I wanted to stay to see the end of the rodeo." "Yeah. That's why you kept closing your eyes and squeezing them tight." Carla opened her purse and dug out her keys. "All right, I confess. I don't like the rodeo, and this blind date is as much a disaster as the last one." "I don't suppose that last blind date was about two years ago?" he asked.

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"Yep." Carla turned away from him and headed toward the parking garage. She was distressed to find that Kenny followed. "I never did get a chance to explain about that night…." "Save it," she snapped. No explanations were necessary. Her love life in general was one long misadventure. If she believed in fate, she'd concede that it just wasn't meant to be. If she was into psychology, she'd try to figure out why she kept falling for the wrong men. Not that she'd ever fallen for Kenny, mind you, but there had been a few moments, early on, when she'd been so sure that he had potential. Oh, she'd been certain he had potential! Why was it that some men could make a woman's heart flutter with a smile or the brush of a hand? Chemistry, she supposed. "I don't need a ride." Kenny stepped up to walk close beside her. His legs were long, his stride confident. There was no way she could outwalk him, and running away would be pathetic. "If you're waiting for me to thank you, then thank you. Good night." "I thought I'd see you to your car," he said. Carla tried not to swallow her tongue. "That's not necessary." "A woman's body was found in the park this afternoon. We don't have the killer yet, so if you think I'm going to let you walk to the parking garage alone, you're mistaken." She decided not to argue. As she remembered, arguing with Kenny Henson was a waste of breath. Kenny stayed with her until she reached her car and unlocked the door. She waited for him to walk away, his duty done, but he didn't. "You know," he said absently as she sat in the driver's seat, "I still owe you a dinner. How about…now?"

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Chapter Two

"You want to take me to dinner now?" "I owe you a decent meal, and an explanation to go with it." For one long minute Kenny was certain Carla would slam the door and drive away. She didn't look like a woman who was inclined to say yes to anything. She surprised him with a softly spoken "Why not?" It had been two years since their first and only date, but no matter how he'd tried, Kenny had never been able to completely get her off his mind. He wasn't sure why. Carla Pierce was pretty and she had great legs, but she had a streak of class that definitely put her out of his league. Maybe it was the smile that was too wide to be polished that kept him hanging on. He had only seen it a couple of times, early on in the date, but he wouldn't mind seeing that smile again. "What time is your shift over?" Carla asked. "Half an hour ago." Kenny wondered if she would ask if he'd stuck around after his replacement arrived because he'd spotted her in the crowd. He hoped not; he wasn't ready to answer. He offered his hand palm up for her keys. "I'll drive." Ah, there was a hint of that smile he remembered. "Excuse me?" He dropped his hand. "You'd prefer to meet me at the restaurant?" "That makes sense to me, since you must have a car here." Makes sense, my ass. Carla had met her blind date here at the rodeo. Kenny realized that wasn't a matter of convenience but a deliberate choice. She'd reluctantly agreed to have dinner with him...but once again she planned to have

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her mode of escape close at hand. Funny, she didn't look skittish. "I'll follow you," he said. "Do you like Italian?"

*** Kenny pulled in beside her, and as Carla glanced through her windshield she realized she should've refused his invitation...or at least suggested someplace that she knew would be noisy and crowded. This restaurant was new and it looked expensive. Romantic and elegant and not at all like the dive he'd taken her to last time. There were a hundred reasons why she should've refused. Hadn't she just given up on men completely? Well, she'd been sitting next to Rob when she'd made that decision, so she couldn't be held totally accountable. No, she'd accepted this invitation because, like it or not, Kenny Henson made her weak in the knees — when she'd first seen him two years ago, and again tonight when she'd seen him standing over her. Total, absolute knee-butter. She wasn't a woman who went weak in the knees easily or often. There was also the promised explanation as extra incentive. She stepped out of the car and Kenny was there. "I've been assured this place is roach free," he said, "and if the waitress starts to tell us her life story, I'll arrest her." He didn't mention any of the other things that had gone wrong on their blind date. Just as well. Once they entered the restaurant, Carla's doubts flared to life again. The place was dimly lit, the background music soft. Small tables were occupied by couples who drank wine and whispered and laughed at private jokes. Some of them were surely playing footsie, but it was impossible to tell since white tablecloths hung to the floor obscuring the view. Oh, this was such a bad idea!

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A smiling hostess led them deeper into the room, and Carla steeled her spine. They'd have dinner, Kenny would make apologies for their disastrous blind date, she'd realize he was a man like all others, and her knees would be her own once again. Simple. As Kenny held out her chair she said, "You mentioned an explanation." "I was a jerk, wasn't I," he replied as Carla took her seat. Not at first. Kenny didn't immediately move away, as she'd expected him to. He stood there with his hands on the back of her chair, so near she could feel him. His heat. His strength. He was very much a man, not just a large boy playing at being a man. "It had nothing to do with you," he said in a soft voice. "You were great, disasters and all." As soon as Kenny took his seat, a waiter appeared to take their drink order. Carla asked for water, and so did Kenny. Apparently she wasn't the only one who wanted to be in complete control of her faculties tonight. After the waiter stepped away from the table, Kenny flashed a smile. "So, how have you been? Still working in that dress store?" "I own it, it's a bridal shop not a dress store, and you're changing the subject." Her no-nonsense attitude didn't faze Kenny Henson. "Let's eat first. Rehashing ancient history can wait." Carla thought about demanding her answer immediately and walking out if she didn't get it. But there was something about the way Kenny looked at her that made her want to stay a while longer. It was the same something she had glimpsed two years ago, before everything went wrong. And she did mean everything.

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"I can't decide if I should thank you for getting me out of yet another horrendous blind date or be furious with you for making it appear that I was being arrested." Not that she had seen any familiar faces in the crowd, thank goodness. "Taken in for questioning," he clarified. "And if you hadn't looked so miserable I never would've bothered you." "Miserable?" Had she been so obvious? Kenny nodded, and then he smiled. Carla had told the tale of their horrid blind date a hundred times, to girlfriends and her sisters. They always laughed, and she sometimes laughed...but it hadn't been funny at the time. She'd been mortified. Kenny had gotten grimmer and tighter as the time ticked past. As that night wore on she'd been so sure the universe was telling her that they didn't have a chance. That she didn't have a chance. So why did she sometimes remember Kenny fondly? Why did she think of him whenever she saw a police car or a crime story on the news? Why was she staring at him right now...just as he stared at her. He was good-looking, all-male, and he made her weak-kneed. And while his method had momentarily caused a scene, he'd rescued her tonight. He made the Robs of the world look like another species altogether. He'd said she was great. Like it or not, Kenny Henson gave her hope where men were concerned. Maybe she shouldn't have been so hasty in her decision to give up men. Right here before her was the proof that there were decent guys out there. This evening would be different than the last one. And if he called her tomorrow, maybe she wouldn't brush him off. Kenny's smile died as his eyes cut to the entrance. "You've got to be kidding,"

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he muttered Chapter Three

A few patrons behind Carla gasped, right before she heard the command, "Put your wallets and purses on your table and nobody gets hurt." Kenny glanced down and placed one hand over his eyes, shading most of his face. In a very soft voice he said, "When I say three, you drop to the floor." Carla turned her head and cut her eyes toward the front of the restaurant. Two armed men wearing ski masks ordered the hostess away from the phone and gathered all the employees together. When that was done, one thief stuffed his gun into the waistband of his jeans and opened a pillowcase to collect their haul. His tall, skinny partner threatened anyone who dared to complain or dillydally. She couldn't believe it. The restaurant was being robbed. Most of the diners were in a quiet panic, but no one did anything to provoke the criminals. Not yet, anyway. Kenny was so still, so coiled and unnaturally calm. Carla had the idea he was not going to toss his wallet into any pillowcase and let the criminals walk out of here. The gunmen approached, and Carla's heart started to beat too hard. It hadn't taken them long at all to reach the rear of the restaurant. Kenny whispered, "One." He actually expected her to drop to the floor! "Two." Carla took a deep breath and held it as the thugs reached their table. The skinny one froze as his eyes met Kenny's. "Henson? Son of a…"

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"Three." Kenny came up as Carla went down. Hard. Her maneuver wasn't at all graceful, and she ended up on the floor several feet away from the action, sitting on her aching backside. Everything happened so fast. Kenny took the weapon from the masked gunman, his hands amazingly capable and so fast the thug didn't have a chance. With his left hand, he plucked the gun from the waistband of the other thief, while the unworthy adversary cried, "Hey!" and dropped his bag of stolen goods. Okay, she was impressed. Every move Kenny made was smooth, calculated. And strong. He didn't draw his gun, but then he didn't need to. He had everything under control. Even her. Unarmed, the thugs were no match for Kenny, and they knew it. They tried to run but didn't get far. After depositing the confiscated weapons on a table behind him, Kenny caught one of the criminals and tripped the other so that he went sprawling onto the floor. Handcuffs came out and in a flash the two inept thieves were handcuffed to one another. Kenny grasped the tall, thin man by the front of his shirt, while he reached up to remove the ski mask. It came off to reveal…a child, really, not a man at all. Carla would be surprised if he was more than twenty years old. The hostess at the front of the store was already on the phone, calling 911. "Why are you here?" the kid asked. "I swear, I have the worst luck." "No, you don't." Kenny glanced at her when he said that.

***

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Carla leaned against her car door, purse strap on her shoulder and a decidedly cautious expression on her face. "I would take you home," Kenny said, "but…" She glanced behind him to the melee of police cars, uniformed officers and detectives that crowded the parking lot and the restaurant. "I understand. You have work to do here, I suppose." He nodded, and she reached into her purse for her keys. This was it, he thought. If he called her tomorrow she wouldn't just decline his invitation, she'd laugh at him. "You knew him," she said softly. "The kid in there." Kenny nodded. "Yeah." He'd had run-ins with Ryan many times, before he'd moved into Homicide. Ryan had never been violent, and as it turned, out the weapons he and his partner had been carrying weren't even loaded. Kenny had suspected as much when he'd recognized Ryan. Last time he'd arrested the kid he'd been wearing that same ratty Garth Brooks T-shirt — and how many six-foot-plus criminals have heavily freckled forearms and weigh in at a hundred and twenty pounds? The last thing Kenny wanted to do was stand there and talk about Chris Ryan. He had a couple of minutes, tops, to smooth things over with Carla. He took her hand gently. She wasn't surprised and she didn't try to jerk that hand away. He took that as a good sign. "The last time we went out, I'd been in Homicide only a few weeks," he said, giving her the explanation she'd come here for. "I thought I was prepared for anything and everything, but I wasn't. I saw my first murder victim that day. She was… It was bad." Carla didn't ask for details, and for that he was

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grateful. "Why didn't you just cancel our date?" "I started to, but we made an arrest pretty quick." The victim's supposedly loving husband, which had also been a real kick in the pants. Kenny wasn't surprised often these days, but back then he'd still been vaguely optimistic. Not anymore. "My partner told me to go on, to have a good time, to put the day behind me because there would be more bad days ahead. Actually, what he said was, 'Get a life, kid.'" "So you put on a smile and tried to pretend that nothing was wrong," she whispered. Kenny nodded. "When things started going wrong, you got grimmer and quieter. By the time the date was over I was pretty sure you were about to explode and that it was somehow my fault." "I'm sorry. It couldn't have been fun for you," he said with a grimace. "Actually, I was having a good time, until…" Ah, there it was. The smile he remembered. Soft, but very real. There was no telling what she meant by until. It had been an all-around terrible evening. The restaurant his friend Bill had recommended had been a total dump. A roach had skittered across the floor as drinks were served. The waitress was sobbing as she plopped their meals onto the table and by the time they'd left, they knew all about her car troubles, her ex-boyfriend and her blisters. The movie they'd gone to afterward had been really bad…and who wants to sit through not one but two explicit love scenes — one of them employing whipped cream for purposes not listed on the aerosol can — on a first date? Neither of them had been disappointed when the film broke a little more than halfway

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through. He'd been taking Carla home when a teenager ran a stop sign and clipped his car, and that was when he'd lost it. "You know what the worst part of that night was?" he moved a couple of inches closer. Wide-eyed and ready to run — and no longer smiling — Carla shook her head. "I didn't get a good-night kiss." Chapter Four

Carla held her breath as Kenny leaned down and in. He moved slowly but without hesitation. Behind him there was chaos. Shaken restaurant patrons, flashing blue lights, police officers. This was not the perfect time for a first kiss, but considering their track record, there might never be a perfect time for anything. She tilted her head and rose slightly to meet him. Their lips met and her eyes drifted shut. Given their past history, she half expected some disaster to intrude. A freak thunderstorm, a drive-by shooting, an urgent summons that would take him away. But the kiss continued without interruption, nothing touching but their lips. Carla finally breathed again, and it sounded very much like a sigh. Kenny moved his mouth over hers, and everything but the long-delayed good-night kiss faded away in a heart-stopping instant. Her knees went weak, and butterflies flapped their delicate wings in her stomach. She grabbed onto his jacket and held on, barely thinking about what she was doing. He moved in close so that they did

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touch, from knee to chest. He was solid. He was warm and tempting. Oh, my. She could kiss him all night, right here, just like this. The tip of his tongue barely traced her bottom lip, and her stomach fell. No, not all night. The way her body responded to the kiss, she had a feeling it wouldn't be enough for very long. It was too good to last, and eventually Kenny took his mouth from hers. Since they were in shadow, she couldn't see his face nearly well enough. But the breath he took…it sounded as desperate as she felt, deep inside. "That was worth waiting for," he whispered. She wanted to say something brilliant, something Kenny would think about all night — the way she would no doubt think about what he'd just said. But her brain had gone numb. "I have to go," she said. He nodded, then glanced over his shoulder. "Locke," he called, and a young uniformed officer glanced their way. "Follow her home." Officer Locke jerked his thumb to the restaurant. "But I have…" "Follow her home," Kenny said again, in a voice that left no room for argument. Locke nodded. Carla fumbled with her keys. "That's really not necessary. I don't need an escort." Kenny leaned in, just a little. "Humor me," he said with a half smile. "It'll make me feel better." It occurred to Carla that this was an important moment. She and Kenny had shared one and a half disastrous dates, and one kiss. One very good kiss, mind you, but still… Since she still couldn't think of anything sufficiently earth-shattering to say,

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she rose up on her toes and kissed Kenny again.

*** She couldn't own a restaurant or a bakery. Somewhere he could just happen to stop by for something to eat or a cup of coffee. No. Carla owned a fancy shop that had a wide window full of fancy white wedding gowns and colorful bridesmaid dresses with pouffy sleeves and very full skirts. The window was decorated with artificial flowers and gauzy veils and silk ivy and champagne glasses. He was not going in there. Saturday night hadn't gone much better than their first date. He'd basically snatched Carla from another bad date, and then taken her straight into a crime scene. It had been another fiasco. Except for the kiss. If he'd gotten a kiss like that on the first date, they'd probably be married and have a kid by now. Sitting in his car across the street from Carla's business, Kenny grabbed his cell phone and dialed the number he had already memorized. The woman he wanted to speak to answered with a sweet "Carla's Bridal." "Hi." "Kenny?" Was it his imagination, or did her voice brighten a little when she recognized his voice? "Yeah. I meant to call you yesterday, but things were really crazy." "I saw your serial killer on the news last night." She didn't sound mad or uncertain. In fact, he could almost swear she was smiling. In his mind he could see it — Carla leaning against the counter with the phone in one hand and that smile on her face. Maybe she'd kicked her shoes off, since it was nearing the

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end of a long Monday. In any other circumstance, he would have loved to talk about the serial killer and the FBI involvement and the way it had all gone down. He loved his job. He was all about the job. But he didn't want to talk business with Carla. "We have more important matters to discuss." "We do?" "Locke says you drive too fast. What were you thinking, speeding with an official escort on your tail?" "I was thinking that it was very sweet of you to want to see that I got home safely, but that since Officer Locke obviously had more important things to do, he probably wouldn't mind if I drove over twenty-five miles an hour." "I'm not sweet," he said. "We might as well get that straight from the start." "I'll remember that." Yeah, he could definitely hear the smile in her voice. He looked at the shop and narrowed his eyes, hoping for a glimpse of Carla. He couldn't see a thing past the display windows. Fluffy dresses and flowers. Why couldn't she own a sporting goods store? There was a Fisherman'sParadise right down the road. That would be perfect. He could peruse the plastic worms while he tried to decide if he'd sound completely and pathetically hopeless if he asked her out tonight. And tomorrow night and the night after that… According to Luther, who had been in homicide longer than Kenny, if Kenny didn't wait a few days before making his move, Carla would know he was hooked and he'd never have the upper hand. According to Luther, he should play it cool for a while. Take it slow and easy. But Kenny was hooked and at the moment he didn't care who knew it. And slow and easy had never been his style. Chapter Five

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Carla held the portable phone in one hand while she reorganized the new display. It had been Teri's suggestion to carry a small selection of nice lingerie, and it had been a good idea. The items were selling well. Her mind was not on merchandise at the moment. She and Kenny had been talking for almost half an hour. It had been a casual conversation. They'd talked about the weather and a movie they both wanted to see. Kenny had even told her a silly joke he'd heard at work, and she'd laughed. It was very comfortable to talk to him about such ordinary things. Twenty minutes before, Teri had left for the day. In another five minutes, it would be time to close up shop. Carla usually looked forward to going home, fixing dinner for one and putting up her feet. Tonight she felt much too restless for a simple evening at home, but it wasn't as if Kenny had suggested anything else. And he probably wouldn't. Their attempts at dating had been so dismal…. A beep interrupted their conversation. "I have another call. Hang on." She pressed a button with her thumb and managed a very professional "Carla's Bridal." "Hey," a deep voice crooned. "You're not in jail." "Rob?" "Yep. I just wanted to make sure you weren't in serious trouble." After two days. How gallant. "I'm fine. It was just a joke," she explained as she arranged a filmy white peignoir set and lifted a red teddy. "Thank you for calling," she said in a dismissive voice.

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"How 'bout we try again," Rob said quickly, before she could hang up. "A friend of mine is driving at the drag races Friday night, and…" "I can't," Carla interrupted. "Then how about Saturday?" Rob didn't sound at all discouraged by her refusal. Behind her, the bell at the shop entrance pinged. Great. First Rob and now a customer just as she was about to close! And Kenny was waiting on the other end of the line. "Actually, Rob, I'm seeing someone else. I can't go out with you." Again. Ever. No matter what happens or doesn't happen with Kenny. "Oh." He sounded deflated. "Well, if you change your mind, give me a call." Not in a million years. "Thanks," she said as she turned to face her new customer. It was Kenny. He studied the red teddy she held, his eyebrows lifted slightly and his head cocked to one side as if to get a better view. She disconnected the call and placed the phone on the display stand. "I hate to be put on hold," he said softly, and then he looked her in the eye and grinned. "Yours?" He gestured to the teddy. Carla's mouth went dry. "No." "Too bad." Her heart kicked so hard that for a moment she forgot to wonder how he'd gotten here so fast. Then she blinked twice and asked, "Did you call from the parking lot?" "Across the street." He gave the shop a thoughtful examination, slowly turning in place. "I was sitting in my car, trying to see through the display windows and wishing you owned some kind of business where I could come in and pretend that I wasn't here just to see you. Sad, huh?" Carla quickly hung the red teddy on the display rack. Sad? No. Sweet.

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Unexpected. A little terrifying. "I still owe you dinner." He no longer studied her shop, but once again stared at her. "I…" She choked on her answer. "Unless you're seeing someone." He glanced at the phone. "Are you? Or was that just a way to get rid of Rob?" It was much too early to tell Kenny that when she'd told Rob she was seeing someone else she'd been thinking of him. Wasn't it? "We haven't had good luck with dinner so far." "That doesn't answer my question." Heavens, he was unrelenting. He looked her in the eye and demanded answers. Oh, he was so out of place here, with his gun, loosened tie, end-of-the-day stubble and overabundance of testosterone. Kenny didn't fit into her well-ordered life at all, but the idea of going another two years without seeing him was unthinkable. "I'm not seeing anyone. In fact, when you interrupted my date Saturday night I had just given up on men forever." "Forever?" She nodded. Kenny looked past and around her, his curious eyes taking in everything. "This place was not put together by a woman who would ever give up." "It's just a business." He shook his head. "No. I get the feeling it's more than that. There's a lot of you in this place. Flowers and fancy white dresses and veils and —" his eyes landed on the display behind her "— romance." He took one step closer, then smiled. "Dinner?"

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Well, she did have to eat, and she was too restless to go home. And she kept thinking about that kiss. "Maybe we could.…" "Yes or no?" Without hesitation this time, she answered, "Yes." "I think this time we'll start with the good-night kiss. Just in case."

*** When he wrapped his arms around Carla, she trembled a little. Her eyes drifted closed as she lifted her mouth to meet his. The kiss made it all worthwhile. Coming into this girlie shop. Finding her holding that little red slip of nothing and wondering what it would look like on her. Telling her straight out that he'd come here just to see her. This time there was no one else around. No cops, no recently robbed victims, no handcuffed prisoners. There was just the two of them, soft music playing over an intercom in the ceiling, and row after row of silk and lace. Carla was so soft and delicate, but the way she kissed…it wasn't entirely delicate. There was heat in the way she kissed him. There was passion and wonder and a world of possibilities. He had to make himself draw away from her. "Dinner," he said. Carla licked her lips and took a deep breath. "There's a nice place up the street." Kenny didn't really want dinner. He wanted Carla, here and now. But dammit — he had to do this right. "Are you ready to go?" She shook her head. "I have to lock up and close out the cash register. You can go on ahead and get us a table, if you'd like. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

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Saturday night Carla had met her blind date at the rodeo. Later, she'd insisted on following him to the restaurant in her own car. Tonight she wasn't going to have such a handy method of escape, not if he had anything to say about it. More than anything, he wanted her to trust him enough to put herself in his hands and relax. "I'll wait for you." He looked around once again. The shop wasn't just filled with fancy dresses and sexy nightwear. There were wedding invitations, engraved napkins and pairs of champagne glasses. It was every bachelor's nightmare. So why wasn't he hyperventilating? "Maybe I can help." "No, really…" Carla might be skittish, but she didn't kiss like a woman who'd given up on love. He brushed a strand of dark hair away from her face, then allowed his fingers to trail across her cheek. "I'm not walking out that door without you." Chapter Six

I'm not walking out that door without you. Was that a threat or a promise? The way Kenny looked at her as he awaited a response... A promise, Carla decided. Definitely a promise. That promise didn't bother her the way it might've a few days ago. She could trust him; she felt it in her bones. He took her silence as a refusal, but didn't argue. "I'll bring the dinner to us. You go ahead and do whatever you need to, and I'll take care of it." As Carla locked the door and counted out the cash register, Kenny made a few phone calls on his cell. One for pizza or Chinese to be delivered, she imagined.

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The others were probably business. Every now and then he turned his back and lowered his voice. Every now and then he smiled at her, and her heart caught in her throat. When a man wearing a suit and a skeptical expression tapped on the glass, not twenty minutes later, Kenny unlocked the door. The man cast a quick glance at Carla, shook his head and crooked his finger at someone in the parking lot. He held the door open while two men carried in a small round table and two chairs, then went back to their vehicle for a white tablecloth, a fat white candle and a single red rose in a slender vase. The table was set up in a matter of minutes. "This is Luther Malone." Kenny motioned to the man who held the door open as the workmen left. "Nice to meet you," Carla said. Luther answered with a soft grunt. "His wife owns a club downtown, so I figured he could get everything we need," Kenny explained. "We could've eaten at the counter," Carla said. When she'd hesitated about letting Kenny drive her to a restaurant, she had never expected him to go to so much trouble. "Not tonight." As Luther left he said a few soft words to Kenny. Carla wasn't sure, but she could almost swear four of those words were "Out of your mind." Before Kenny had time to relock the door behind his friend, another car pulled up to the door. The young man who got out of that car was not carrying pizza or special fried rice. The delivery man loaded down the table with salads, grilled shrimp, baked potatoes, and steamed vegetables. When she thought he was finished, he went back

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to the car for two huge slices of chocolate cake, a bottle of wine and two wineglasses. When they were finally alone, Kenny pulled out her chair. Carla approached with caution. A man who went to so much trouble, who resorted to chocolate, wine and a single red rose, was motivated by one of two things. He wanted to sleep with her or else he really wanted to impress her. "I hope you don't mind," he said as he lit the candle. "This should be safer than going out, and we deserve one good meal without disaster. Locked in here we won't have to worry about inept criminals or crying waitresses or anything else." "There's no one here to cause a disaster except us." Carla studied the impressive meal. "How did you know I love grilled shrimp?" "You mentioned it during our first date. You ordered grilled shrimp, but between sobs the waitress said they'd run out." She stared at him. "That was two years ago." "Yeah." "And you remember?" "I remember everything about that night. It wasn't all bad." He laughed. "Okay, it was mostly bad, but there was enough good to make me call you the next day." He gave her an accusing look. "You said no." "Maybe that was a mistake," she admitted. "Maybe?" They were about to venture into uncharted territory. She felt it. Not in her bones this time, but in her heart. "Absolutely."

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*** So far, so good. Dinner had been tasty and without interruption, Carla didn't seem at all skittish, and he hadn't thought about the job once. When Kenny glanced at his watch he was surprised to find so much time had passed. An hour or so ago he'd taken off his jacket and put his gun aside. Carla had kicked off her shoes, something he felt sure she wouldn't have done if she hadn't had one too many glasses of wine. They'd abandoned the chairs at the table where they'd dined for the floor behind the counter, where they sat side by side with their backs against the wall. Even from here he could see plenty of the frills that made this shop a fantasy. Not his fantasy, mind you, but a fantasy all the same. "So," he said, glancing up. Yards of gauzy fabric and silk flowers decorated the wall. "What kind of wedding do you want?" Carla had a glass of wine in one hand and the red rose in the other. If his question alarmed her at all, she didn't show it. "I have planned my wedding for years," she admitted. "The perfect gown, the bridesmaids' dresses, the flowers, the cake…" She sighed. "But to be honest, I think I'd rather elope. Vegas, maybe." "That would make you like the cobbler who has no shoes," he teased. She laughed. "I guess it would." She cut her eyes toward him in a way that was unintentionally sexy. "What about you?" "I'm definitely a Vegas kind of guy." Carla stretched out her legs and wriggled her toes. "I drank too much." "Yeah. I'll drive you home." She glanced up at him again. And held her breath.

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"And then tomorrow morning I'll pick you up and bring you here," he said. "I'll have to return Luther's table and chairs anyway, and I don't feel like doing it tonight." "Okay." He leaned down and kissed her, soft and sweet, and she kissed him back. When he took his mouth from hers he asked, "What are we doing tomorrow night?"

*** Saturday again. Carla checked her reflection in the mirror. What if she was moving too fast? What if Kenny thought she'd lost her mind? No. After a week of almost-disaster-free dates, long conversations, and more of those kisses that made her head swim…it wasn't too soon or too fast, and Kenny wouldn't think she'd lost her mind. Dinner tonight would be here at her place, and she'd changed the menu four times in the past twenty-four hours. She wanted the night to be perfect. When the doorbell rang she almost jumped out of her skin. She opened the door, Kenny smiled at her, and any doubts she might've had vanished in a flash. She loved him, and while there might be occasional less-than-perfect days down the road, she figured they'd survive. Together. Kenny kissed her. "I have a present for you," he said, handing over a small, brightly wrapped box. She walked into the living room, Kenny close behind her, and grabbed the bag she'd placed on the sofa earlier. "I have something for you, too." He took the gift bag and grinned as he reached inside to snag the red teddy with one finger. "You know," he said as he delved inside the bag to come up with the

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can of aerosol whipped cream, "something smells good, but I'm really not all that hungry." "Neither am I," Carla admitted. Kenny nodded to her gift, and his smile faded. "Your turn." She unwrapped the small box as Kenny draped the red teddy over his shoulder and uncapped the whipped cream. "You remember that awful movie." "See, you're not the only one who remembers.…" She opened the box. Two plane tickets to Vegas. Kenny wrapped his arms around her. "I love you," he said. "I know this is fast, but I don't want to waste another day not being with you. Say yes." "Yes." Without hesitation, without doubt. "I love you, too." He lifted her off her feet and carried her, the red teddy and the whipped cream toward the hallway. "I should warn you. I'm one of six boys and there's a history of twins in my family." She laughed. "Twins?" Kenny stopped outside her bedroom and looked into her eyes. "Scared?" he whispered. She touched her nose to his and held on tight. "Never."

The End