The Cowboy’s Baby continued

Ellison couldn’t help it; he grinned at the image that popped into his head, this despite the hint of tragedy in her recitation—the small white cat guarding the recluse and her mysterious property.

“She’d turn that cat loose on you,” he commented.

The women looked kindly at his ignorance. They shrugged at each other before one patted him tentatively on the arm and said he was holding them up. They were here to play golf. He stood puzzled as they drove their golf carts closer to the tee. Marcia joined him.

“What was that all about?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he answered, still watching the ladies, none of whom had turned around.

“Well,” Marcia concluded. “You’ve lost the cat. I saw him run off and that’s that.”

“Damn. I pictured myself carrying the little beast to that woman on a silver tray. How the hell can I get in now?” He caught her staring at his pants.

Ellison brushed more grass off his spoiled trousers and looked way back over his office building and toward the Lennon estate. He felt a sudden sting. He slapped at his arm. He slapped his arm a second time, this time the sting of hard hand on firm flesh jolted him out of his trance.

“Is this a flea bite!” he cried, amazed at the rapidly burgeoning red bump, holding out his sinewy, tanned arm for Marcia to inspect. But his gaze kept returning to the horizon that was the beginning of Cassandra Lennon’s wall. With an effort he forced his attention back to his irritated flesh and Marcia’s ministrations.

“Well?” She had held his arm long enough and it was making him uneasy.

“Probably mosquitoes,” Marcia said, tossing his arm away. Ellison knew she had touched his arm just that bit of too much, and that he had let her. “You really ought to get out more,” she was saying. “This time of year mosquito repellent is the perfume du jour, and you should have known that by now.”

He just scowled at her, still thinking of the slight electricity of her touch.

“Or it might have been a fire ant,” she said.

Ellison pulled the sleeve slowly back down over the strong arm she had just set afire and let the silence build between them. He had Marcia’s puzzled attention shortly. But this was not the time to say what was really bothering him. He pushed lovely Marcia thoughts back with the rest of his dreams and brought business problems to the fore.

“Enough,” he said. “Let’s go back inside. Back to work. We’ll figure something out about Mrs. Lennon.” He shepherded her all the way back to the office in silence, his expression moody, hers contemplative.

To Be Continued…..Copyright 2010. Blog photos by Roxanne Rix

WHAT I’VE READ THIS WEEK:  Have Gun, Will Play by Camille La Guire, a really charming western/mystery e-book at for Kindle.

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