The Rana Look

Five

When Trent came by the following morning for their run, she pretended not to hear his knock. Eventually he went out alone, and Rana breathed a sigh of relief. And disappointment. She had come to look forward to their morning jogging.

Carefully she pressed the wrap skirt she’d been working on, arranged it on a hanger, and covered it with a plastic bag. In all modesty she thought it was her best work, and hoped that it would meet with Mrs. Rutherford’s approval.

Getting dressed didn’t require near the time it once had. She washed her hair, but left it to dry on its own. She smoothed some moisturizing lotion on her tanned face- her mother had never let her swim or play on the beach when she was a child, because she didn’t want Rana’s skin to suffer the damaging effects of the sun-but left it free of makeup. She put on the blue-tinted eyeglasses and dressed in a shapeless, mud-colored sack dress, which she didn’t even belt. Barry would be horrified. She went downstairs to eat a quick breakfast before leaving.

“Have you seen Trent this morning?” Ruby asked as she poured Rana a cup of coffee. Rana noticed that Ruby was moving carefully and wincing at any loud sound. Rana hid a secret smile behind her china coffee cup.

“No. Why?”

“He’s in an awful mood. I thought maybe he clued you in while you were jogging.”

“I didn’t run this morning, because I was getting ready to go to Houston. I haven’t seen him.”

“Well, he’s swelled up like a bullfrog. He came stamping in a few minutes ago from his run and wearing a face like a thundercloud. He went straight up to his room without even stopping to drink his fruit juice.”

“Hm,” Rana said noncommittally as she buttered a piece of toast. “Got up on the wrong side of the bed, I guess.”

Was he pouting because she hadn’t jogged with him? In some ways he was such a child. His childish streak aroused her maternal instincts, and she found herself smiling at this latest tantrum. But she immediately squashed that emotion, as she had all the others. She couldn’t allow herself to feel anything for Trent. Where he was concerned, she had to be in an emotional vacuum.

“I’ve got to get on the road, Ruby,” she said,, hastily finishing her breakfast. “Don’t look for me until late this afternoon.

“Good luck with your business, dear. And please drive carefully. The freeways are treacherous.”

“I’ll be careful.” She kissed Ruby’s cheek and left the house by way of the back door.

The detached garage, located on one side of thebackyard, had been an addition to the original house. Rana was glad to see that Trent ‘s sports car was parked behind Ruby’s, so it wouldn’t be necessary for her to ask him to move it. She hung the skirt on the hook in the backseat of her compact and climbed behind the steering wheel.

At first she thought nothing of the chugging, choking sound of the car’s motor. It was always reluctant to start. But after several unsuccessful attempts to pump the engine to life, she began cursing it. The garage was airless and stifling, even this early in the day. She tried again, becoming more frustrated every second. She wasn’t on a tight schedule, but she had to get to Houston today.

“Damn!” she cried, banging her fist on the steering wheel. Barry would have a fit if she failed to deliver the skirt today.

She retraced her steps to the back door. “Ruby,” she called out, “is there bus service between Galveston and Houston?” She entered the kitchen to find Trent munching on a piece of crisp bacon. Ruby was holding an ice pack to her head as she sipped coffee.

The landlady put down the ice pack. “I thought you’d gone, dear.”

Resolutely Rana kept her eyes away from Trent, who was dressed in a sport shirt and slacks. There was a lightweight sport jacket draped over the back of his chair. “My car won’t start. I’ll have to take a bus to Houston. Where can I catch one?”

“I’m going to Houston today. I’ll drive you,” Trent said.

“What a dear boy,” Ruby said, smiling fondly at her nephew. “Sit down, Rana, and have another cup of coffee.”

“But,” Rana protested, wetting her lips, “I really need to go alone.”

She couldn’t take Trent into Barry’s store with her. Barry might blurt out something that would give her away. All night she had toyed with the idea of having Morey accept that contract. If she went back to work, she would avoid the heartache of getting more deeply involved with Trent. But if she made that decision, she wanted simply to disappear. She never wanted him to know she wasn’t the plain Miss Ana Ramsey he thought her to be. If he ever found out about her other life, he would be furious with her for deceiving him.

“I’m probably going miles out of your way,” she said discouragingly.

“Where do you need to go?”

“The Galleria.”

“Fine,” he said, with a “that’s settled” nod of his head. “I’ve got to see a doctor about my shoulder. His office is near there. Are you ready?” he asked, standing up.

“Really, I can’t trouble you,” she said quickly, desperately.

“Look,” he said, pulling his coat off the chair with an irritated yank, “I’ve got to go anyway. It would be crazy for you to try to get around Houston in a damn bus. Now, do you want to ride with me or not?”

No, she didn’t want to. But realistically, she didn’t have much ‘choice. Lowering her head, she mumbled, “Thank you, yes, I’ll ride with you.”

They said their good-byes to Ruby, who repeated her instructions to drive carefully. In Trent ’s sports car, Rana folded the skirt in her lap.

“Sorry about that,” he said, glancing down. “There’s no place to hang it.”

“It will be all right.”

That was the extent of their conversation until they were halfway to Houston. Then she ventured to ask, “How is your shoulder?”

“Why didn’t you run with me this morning?”

“I didn’t have time. I was getting ready for my trip to Houston.”

“And you couldn’t bother to tell me that?”

“I must have been in the shower when you came by. I didn’t hear your knock.”

“I didn’t hear the shower running, either.”

“Are you in the habit of listening at my door?”

“Are you in the habit of lying?”

They lapsed into another turbulent silence, interrupted only by Trent ’s muttered curses at the sluggish Houston traffic.

After several minutes Rana became ashamed of both of them for behaving in such a snippish, juvenile way. “How is your shoulder?” she asked again.

“I don’t understand you, Ana,” he shouted, as though he’d been sitting there fuming, waiting for the right moment to vent his anger, just as he waited for opportunities to whip his car around motorists driving too slowly to suit him. “You were justified in being mad at me when I kept coming on to you. So, all right, you slapped my hand and I admitted that I deserved it. I thought we were going to be friends, but you never lighten up. I never know where I stand with you. You’re stiff and unbending and uptight. It’s no surprise to me that your husband split and that you don’t have any friends.”

He guided the sleek car into one of the lanes leading to the massive shopping complex. “You can let me out here,” Rana said tightly, her lips barely moving. She already had a grip on the door handle.

He braked the car to a screeching halt at the curb, and she got out after speaking a terse “Thanks.”

“A couple of hours?” he asked.

“Fine,” she said, and slammed the door behind her.

Barry didn’t improve her mood. There were a few shoppers in the store, but they were being helped by his effusive sales staff. The moment he saw Rana come in, he grabbed her arm and hurried her to the rear of the store and into his office. Unlike the immaculate and serene shop, which was decorated in soothing pastels, his office was cluttered and cramped and reeked of acrid tobacco smoke. He faced her, folding his arms in a gesture of disapproval.

“My Lord, if anything, you’ve gotten worse.”

“Don’t start in on me, Barry,” she said, hanging Mrs. Rutherford’s skirt on a hook and collapsing into the only available chair. “I’ve already had a helluva morning.”

“You look positively wretched.”

“Thanks. That’s the point. I wish to remain anonymous, something you make almost impossible by displaying a poster of that underwear ad in your lingerie section. How could you, Barry?”

“Because it sells panties, dear heart. Dozens of them. Believe me,” he said, sliding appraising eyes over her with obvious distaste, “no one will recognize you. In fact, I shall do my best to keep you hidden. If my customers saw their idol, Ana R., they’d throw up their hands and scream. They may envision you as an eccentric artist, an image I’ve intentionally promoted, but they wouldn’t want to know you’re a ragpicker.”

“Do you have a diet soda?”

“Yes,” he said, opening a small refrigerator tucked under a sagging shelf, “but don’t get too comfy. We have loads of business to discuss. By the way, the skirt is fab.” He had lifted the plastic bag and inspected it. “Mrs. Rutherford will be absolutely giddy.”

An hour and a half later, Rana stood up to leave, with a new idea to consider and a hefty check and four orders in her purse. “Luckily I have a supply of silks and cottons I got on my last visit to that warehouse,” she told him. “Be sure to have your seamstress send me a list of the customers’ measurements next week. The ones she personally takes, not the ones they submit themselves. Ladies tend to fudge in their own favor.”

Barry took hanks of Rana’s hair in each of his hands and pulled it back away from her face, holding it there as he studied her. “Ahh, just a glimpse of the old Rana. Why not let me send you down to Neiman’s salon and have your hair and makeup done? Then I’ll deck you out in that new Ungaro collection. Or I have a white silk jersey Kamali that’s perfectly Rana. Do some floor modeling for me today, and my sales will soar. It would be good for both of us.”

She shook her head, and he released her hair, regretfully watching it fall back to cover her classic cheekbones. “No, Barry.”

“Will you ever go back to doing what you do better than anyone, love?”

“Morey wants me to.” She told Barry about the two-year contract she’d been offered. “I haven’t decided whether to accept it or not.”

He sighed. “Are you happy this way, Rana?”

“Happy?” Had she ever been happy in her life? Was anyone? “I’m content. I think that’s the most anyone can ask for.”

Not wanting to become too maudlin, she kissed him, thanked him again for the orders, and assured him she’d think about his latest innovative idea. Once out in the mall, she realized that she hadn’t specified a place to meet Trent. She didn’t have long to ponder her dilemma, because she spotted him walking around aimlessly, occasionally stopping to watch the ice skaters gliding across the center rink.

He was so very attractive. Each time she saw him, she was mildly surprised all over again by how much he appealed to her. He wasn’t bulky and massive like professional football linemen, but his muscles filled out his jacket and slacks. His clothes fit to a “T” and were well tailored, though casual. She liked the way his dark hair waved naturally, flirting with the tops of his ears and his collar. He was wearing opaque sunglasses, probably to keep fans from recognizing him.

She made her way toward him slowly, glad for the opportunity to study him without his knowing it. When she was still a fair distance away, he turned his head in her direction. He must have seen her instantly, because he began wending his way toward her through the crowd.

“I’m sorry, Ana.” He spoke the words in a breathless rush as soon as he came within hearing distance. “What I said was-”

A harried lady shopper bumped into him from behind. Taking Rana’s arm, he guided them out of the flow of foot traffic, placing her between him and the wall. She had to angle her head back in order to look at him. He took off his glasses and tucked them into the breast pocket of his coat. His dark eyes were troubled.

“What I said in the car just before you got out, well, it was unforgivable,” he said. “I didn’t mean it. I was just so damn mad. ”

“You don’t have to apologize, Trent.”

“Yes, I do. These are for you.” He thrust a bouquet of daisies at her. “I wanted to get roses, but they were sold out. Forgive me? Please.”

Tears filled her eyes as she stared wordlessly into the cluster of daisies. She lowered her face, nestling her nose among the dewy petals. She had been sent flowers often. Extravagant arrangements of roses and orchids had come from counts and corporate presidents. None had ever meant anything to her. This small, unpretentious bouquet of humble daisies was the most precious gift she had ever received.

“Thank you, Trent. They’re lovely.”

“I had no right to speak to you like that.”

“I provoked you.”

“Well, anyway, I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.”

The mall was crowded. Shoppers hurried past them. Still they didn’t leave their spot. He continued to stare down at her.

“Have you been waiting long?” he asked.

“No. I saw you from across the atrium.”

“I was so mad I didn’t even tell you where to meet me. ”

“That’s all right. We found each other.”

“Yes. We found each other.”

As he continued to gaze down at her, her words took on a deeper meaning. He inched closer. His hand came up to rest against her cheek. He whispered her name. Then he lowered his head and pressed his lips against her cheek.

Rana stopped breathing. She didn’t move. The daisies, which she was holding against her chest, were crushed between them. She heard the crackling of the green tissue they were wrapped in and felt the damp petals against her arms.

But it was the man who captured most of her awareness. He smelled like summer sunshine and a masculine fragrance. She wanted to nuzzle his warm neck and breathe deeply of his scent. His lips went from cool to warm against her cheek. His breath, rapid and unsteady, whispered across her face. Only a supreme act of will kept her from flinging her arms around him and never letting him go.

He hesitated, as though trying to make up his mind about something; then he stepped away. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, taking her arm and leading her through the mall.

“How is your shoulder?” she asked once they were in the car and negotiating traffic again.

He laughed. “You’ve asked me that several times already.”

“And I never got an answer. What did the doctor say?”

“He said that by the time I go off to summer training camp, I should be in great shape.”

“ Trent, that’s wonderful,” she said enthusiastically, tamping down a wave of sadness that came with his news. When he left for camp, he’d be leaving her life for good.

“I guess the rest and relaxation is starting to pay off.” He grinned across at her. His smile showed brilliantly in his darkly tanned face. “Hungry?”

She nodded. “I didn’t get any lunch.”

“Neither did I.”

He took her to one of his favorite Mexican restaurants. She had just begun to acquire a taste for the spicy ethnic cuisine. “Are you sure we’ll get out alive?” she commented dubiously when he braked in the gravel parking lot of the restaurant. It hardly qualified as such. “Cantina” might have been a more appropriate description. The porch sagged considerably. The sign over the door was so faded that only a few letters were distinguishable. The windows were murky and decorated with window boxes containing dusty plastic flowers in garish colors.

“I didn’t say it was fancy, only that it was the best.”

They laughed and joked all through the meal, which Trent ordered from an enormously fat woman who kept patting him affectionately on the cheek and calling him “Angelito.”

When they left the restaurant, he drove Rana around Houston, pointing out places of interest that an out-of-towner would rarely see.

By the time they returned to Galveston, it was well after dark. Ruby was waiting for them at the back door. “I’ve been worried,” she said. “ Trent, did you forget that you promised to take me bowling tonight?”

Rana could almost hear his inward groan, but for his aunt’s sake, he smiled. “Of course not. Not after looking forward to it all week. Is it all right if Ana comes along?”

“Certainly,” Ruby said. “The more the merrier.”

Rana had had such a perfect day, she wanted it to stop now, before something happened to ruin it. Besides, she didn’t want to intrude on Ruby’s evening with her adored nephew. “I’m a lousy bowler. You two go ahead. I’m tired and want to get to bed early anyway.”

She wanted to think that Trent was disappointed. He seemed to be as Ruby practically dragged him out the front door. “Be sure to lock up,” he told Rana as she waved good-bye. She had the distinct impression that he would much rather have stayed with her than escort his aunt to the bowling alley. His farewell smile left a warm, glowing feeling inside her.

In her room, she placed the daisies in a vase of water and put them where she could see them as she reclined in a hot bubble bath. She had just stepped out when her telephone rang.

“Where have you been all day?” a gruff voice asked when she answered.

“And hello to you, too, Morey. I had to go to Houston.”

“That’s what your landlady told me.”

“You’d be proud of the money I came home with.”

“Too bad I’m not getting my percentage.” Rana wondered again if Morey hadn’t gotten himself into financial straits with his gambling, but before she could inquire, he plunged right into the business at hand. “Well, have you thought it over?”

“Yes, Morey.”

“Spare me the suspense.”

“My answer is no.”

She had thought it over carefully, weighing every aspect of her decision. As recently as last night she had entertained the thought of returning to her former way of life, despite the unhappiness it would bring her.

But today, when Trent had presented her with the flowers, she’d realized how much progress she had made. A man had given her flowers without considering whether or not she was pretty. The daisies weren’t a tribute to her beauty, but to the woman she was on the inside.

She didn’t want to return to the superficial world, where she was considered a commodity solely because God had given her a certain face and body.

“Do you realize what you’re passing up, Rana?”

“Please don’t try to talk me out of my decision, Morey. My mind’s made up. I’m not saying I’ll never go back. Just not right now.”

His sigh conveyed his disappointment, but all he said was, “That’s it, then?”

“Yes. That’s it.”

They chatted about other things. She inquired about her mother’s health. Morey described her mother’s personality in crude terms, but assured Rana that Susan was in good health.

“She’ll raise billy hell when I tell her you’re turning this offer down. And since you’re not here, she’ll take it out on

“I know, and I’m sorry you’ll bear the brunt of it.”

“Goes with the territory.”

“Are you terribly disappointed, Morey?”

“Disappointed, yes. I think you’re a little crazy, but I still love you.”

“And I love you too. I’m sorry to be such a burden.”

“Life’s full of them, Rana. Full of them.”

They said their good-byes. Rana wished she felt more comfortable with her decision. Instead, her conversation with Morey left her feeling vaguely sad and homesick for him.

Then she spotted the bouquet of daisies. They were like a ray of light that penetrated her despondency and coaxed back her golden mood. It stayed with her until she finally dropped off to sleep.

She slept late. When she opened her eyes and glanced out the window, she could tell the sun was well up. Her clock verified the lateness of the hour. As soon as her feet hit the floor, she noticed the slip of paper lying just inside her door.

I knocked twice, but didn’t hear a sound. Yes, I listen at your door often. Guess you‘re sleeping late. I approve. See you later.

The note was left unsigned, but the barely legible scrawl, as well as the humor, was dearly familiar.

She dressed and went downstairs. The house was deserted. She ventured into the backyard and decided to tour Ruby’s greenhouse. The elderly lady had been bragging about the results of her efforts there.

It was hot and humid inside the glass building, but Rana enjoyed the smell of freshly turned soil. Not a breath stirred. Condensation collected in droplets on the panes of glass surrounding her. It was silent. The sound of her footsteps was absorbed by the spongy earthen floor. She walked between the long tables, with their neat rows of potted plants. She studied them, delighting in every exotic bloom, each delicate leaf, with its unique tracery of veins.

“Sloth is a sin.”

“Oh!” she exclaimed, and spun around.

“I did it again, didn’t I? I snuck up and startled you? Sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

Trent heaved a bag of peat moss off his shoulder and wiped his hands on the seat of his cutoffs. His T-shirt was damp with perspiration.

Rana smiled at him. “I know you didn’t mean to. It’s just so quiet in here. Good morning, by the way. Where’s Ruby?”

“I just made her go in and lie down. We went to the nursery to pick up this peat moss. It’s so hot and muggy, she got a little dizzy. I told her I’d finish her project.”

“Which is?”

“To put those bedding plants into those pots,” he said, pointing them out to her.

“Pretty begonias,” Rana remarked as she rolled up the sleeves of her shirt. “I’ll help.”

“Don’t feel that you have to.”

“I want to.”

As a child she’d never been allowed to play in the dirt. She had never been allowed to do anything that spoiled her perfection. Every hair had to be in place. She wasn’t allowed to ride a bicycle or roller-skate because she might scrape her knee. Scabs or scars were to be avoided at all costs. As a teenager, she had rebelled occasionally, but when her little acts of defiance were discovered, her mother’s wrath made the adventures hardly worthwhile.

Nor had she had many friends to play with when she was growing up. She had never been free to run with the other children in the neighborhood. During adolescence, female friends were rare, because other girls saw her extraordinary looks as a threat. What potential friend with any brains wanted to be compared to Rana?

Boys, on the other hand, had held her in awe, and she had very few dates during high school. Rana Ramsey was the most gorgeous creature most of the boys in her school had ever seen. She was too intimidating a proving ground on which to test newfound manhood.

Now Rana seized this chance to play in the dirt. “What do I do first?”

“First you take off some clothes,” Trent said.

“What!”

“You don’t think that’s a good idea?”

“No.”

“Don’t be shy. If it makes you feel any better, I’ll take off some of mine too.” He laughed at her withering glance. “Ana, you’ll swelter in all those clothes. It’s like a sauna in here.”

“Oh, no, I’m fine.”

“I’m afraid you’ll melt and all that will be left is a pile of clothes nobody else will want and I’ll be stuck with.”

She glared at him, but it was all in fun. “Don’t worry about me and my clothes and the heat, okay?”

He shook his head in bafflement, wondering if she had some hideous skin disease she didn’t want anybody to know about. She had jogged with him each morning wearing a sweat suit that covered her from neck to ankles. “Okay, but if you faint from heat prostration, remember I warned you.”

He showed her how to fill each container from a bag of potting soil and what proportion of peat moss to mix with it. Soon she was wielding the trowel as though she’d done it all her life. Occasionally she blotted her dripping forehead with her sleeve, but she didn’t even notice the muggy heat, she was having so much fun.

“Do you mind?” Trent asked her after a while. He was holding the hem of his T-shirt.

“Uh, no.”

He peeled it over his head and tossed it down. “I think I’m the one who’s melting.”

Rana, gazing at his bare torso, was experiencing her own melting sensation, but it was internal. Her thighs felt as though they were liquefying. “You certainly look fit enough to play football,” she said as casually as her tight throat would permit. Muscles rippled beneath his supple brown skin with each movement of his arms and shoulders.

“I hope I am.”

She noticed his worried frown and the hesitancy in his voice. “Do you have doubts?”

He laughed, but it wasn’t a mirthful sound. “I’ve lived with that kind of doubt every season I’ve played professionally, and even before then when a championship was at stake.”

“But you’ve had a spectacular career.” When he looked at her inquiringly, she added, “Ruby’s filled me in on it since you came here. Was that just her pride talking? Aren’t you considered one of the best?”

Ordinarily he would have accepted such compliments as his due. But with Rana, he felt compelled to be honest. “I’ve had some good seasons, but last year was a disaster.”

“Why, Trent?”

“I’m getting old.”

She laid the trowel aside and gave him all her concentration. “Old? You’re not even thirty-five.”

“Which in professional football is well past middle age.” Self-conscious about speaking aloud his innermost fears, he fiddled with a watering can. It was a relief, however, to have someone listen so carefully. For months he had needed to confide in someone. He couldn’t have stopped the flow of words if he had wanted to.

“Last season my age began to catch up with me, though I’d been fighting it for several years before that. My elbow had to be operated on three years ago. Once I got that back in shape, my shoulder started to give out. Every time I threw a pass, it hurt like hell. I was hitting the receivers fewer times each game. Since we’re basically a passing team, our offense was shot to hell. There was no one else to blame. The buck stops at the quarterback. In this case, me.”

Rana knew nothing about football, but she could sympathize with what he was telling her. She had known models who had considered their lives over at thirty because they were too old to continue their careers.

She moved closer to him, and barely resisted the urge to lay a comforting hand on his arm. “Surely you knew when you started that it couldn’t last forever.”

“Of course I did. I’m not that unrealistic. I haven’t walked around with my head in the clouds. I’ve made financial preparations for my retirement from football. I’m a silent partner in an extremely lucrative commercial real- estate firm in Houston. But I want to retire when I say I’m ready, not when I’mforcedto. Each season new talent is recruited for the team. Lord, they’re good, Ana. And so damn young.” He shook his head ruefully. “You probably think I’m whining because I’m jealous of the younger guys. I swear that’s not it.”

“I believe you,” she said softly.

He clenched his fists and closed his eyes. “I want just one more season. A winning season. I want to go out on top, not as an object of pity or derision.”

Her hand found its way to him of its own accord, and she squeezed his arm to emphasize her heartfelt words. “No one would ever pity you, Trent. I think this will be your season. I know it.”

“You do?”

She stared up at him earnestly. “Yes, I do.”

Everything receded into the background. They were left in a universe of their own. She searched his face greedily, feeling the fear and insecurity behind his eyes as surely as she had felt her own so often.

If I weren‘t pretty, my mother wouldn’t love me at all.

That was what the lonely, beautiful little girl had grown up thinking. Up until six months ago, she had continued to think that her only value came from the way she looked. Since she had thrown off the Rana Look, she had cultivated two important friendships, Ruby’s and Trent ’s. She was a person worthy of love and friendship, no matter what she looked like.

For as long as she could remember, she had tried to be what her mother wanted. She had wanted Susan’s approval desperately, but she had always fallen short of her mother’s expectations.

“Stand up straight, Rana… Don’t slouch, Rana… Is that a pimple, Rana? Honestly! I’ve taught you how to clean your face, but you don’t do it… Are you wearing your retainer? Do you want crooked teeth?… You wrinkled your dress, after I spent a half an hour ironing it.”

And even when Rana had been as close to perfect as any human being could possibly be, Susan could always find fault.

Yes, Rana could identify with Trent ’s anguish and uncertainty. In his drive to succeed on the gridiron, it didn’t matter what pieces of him were left behind on the Astroturf, what bones were broken, what muscles were sprained, what pain he endured. He was a competitor. He would always go the distance, give his all. But because his very best might not be good enough, he was suffering a private hell.

“Thanks for saying that,” he said softly.

His eyes didn’t waver from her face. The air was thick with desires long suppressed. His body felt heavy and feverish with an emotion he couldn’t name, because he’d never experienced it before. All he knew was that at that moment he thought Ana Ramsey was beautiful. He wanted to hold her against him, to absorb her confidence and be worthy of it.

“I meant it.”

The atmosphere was hushed. A fly buzzed somewhere nearby, but otherwise everything was still. Sweat trickled down his face. Their bodies were taut as they tried to hold themselves separate. Still they inclined toward each other.

He rested his hand on the crown of her head and then gently brought it down to her neck. Her hair was soft against his callused palm. She tilted her head to one side and rested her cheek in his hand. He focused on her mouth. Her lips parted slightly even as he watched. They looked incredibly soft, solace-lending, pleasure-giving, vulnerable.

“Ana.” He lowered his head. His lips touched hers.

“Ana!” another voice called.

They sprang apart. Trent ’s curse was vicious and as blistering as the white-hot Texas sun that beat down outside. Rana stepped away from him quickly and ran to the door of the greenhouse. Her heart was racing.

“Yes, Ruby? Here I am. What is it?”

“Telephone call for you, dear.”

Rana glanced back at Trent. He shrugged and gave her a twisted smile, but it was strained with yearning. She crossed the yard at a trot and entered the house by the back door, which Ruby held open for her. “It’s your mother.”

Rana’s footsteps faltered. “My mother?”

Ruby nodded, an unspoken question in her eyes. Ana Ramsey had no mother that she knew about.

Rana trudged up the stairs. She and her mother had conveyed messages to each other through Morey for the last six months. They hadn’t spoken personally since Rana had walked out and thwarted Susan’s plans for her daughter’s marriage.

Why was Susan calling now? Rana wondered. Was she angry that Rana hadn’t accepted the contract? Was she calling just to say hello? Was she calling to say, “I love you”?

Rana ridiculed herself for holding on to that hope. Nonetheless her hands were shaking and her voice trembled as she picked up the extension in her apartment and said,

“Mother? Hello. How are you?”

“Morey is dead. I think the least you could do is return to New York for his funeral.”