She thanked Greta again and walked her to the door, then went back to get Duchess and take her out into the yard.
As she went back inside, she noticed the message light blinking on the answering machine. There were two calls from Premier Realty and the title company, another from Porter, wanting to know if she’d heard anything more about the layoffs, and finally, one that was definitely not for her.
“Hank, honey, it’s Lulu. Are you ready for dinner?” the chic divorcée asked enthusiastically. “’Cause I’m starving after the day we’ve had together! Oh, wait, I think I just dialed your home number instead of your cell. Never mind. I’ll just come and find you.” Click.
Ally sat staring at the phone. The call had come in at six-fifteen, when she was out walking Duchess in the yard. The screen ID said the call had come from a luxury hotel in Dallas.
So that was where Hank had gone! Ally realized, stunned. Lulu Sanderson was the client he was flying around? And now they were in Dallas together, sharing a hotel, if not a room? What in heaven’s name was going on?
Chapter Ten
Hank knew something was going on with Ally when he returned home the following evening. He just wasn’t sure what had her suddenly ignoring his calls.
He shrugged out of his leather aviator jacket and walked through the downstairs. It was clear she had been as busy and productive in their two days apart as he had. Custom slate-gray canvas slipcovers now gave the sturdy but ugly furniture a classy new look. A new area rug, colorful throw pillows and lap blankets had been strategically added.
There was still no real feeling of Christmas in the ranch house, since the tree and mantel remained undecorated. Hank was determined that, too, would change.
Thinking Ally might be with Duchess, he walked into the kitchen. All the puppies were cuddled up together in the warmer, sleeping contentedly. Duchess was lying next to it. She lifted her head and wagged her tail when Hank approached. He petted her silky head and scratched her behind the ears. “Looks like all is okay here with you and the kids,” he murmured. Was Ally okay, though?
Hank gave the sleepy Duchess a final pat and headed on up the stairs.
Ally was standing in her bedroom in front of the mirror, blow-drying her honey-blond hair. Her slender form was covered by a satin robe with a tie sash. Her feet were encased in fuzzy slippers. Beneath the knee-length hem, her legs were bare.
Hank’s pulse picked up a notch.
Was this all for him?
He hoped so.
He strode into the bedroom. Ignoring her indifferent reception, he asked, “Did you get my message?”
Ally curved the ends of her hair around a brush, held it against her chin and moved the dryer back and forth. “All six of them,” she answered, sounding distracted.
Okay, so maybe he’d been a little eager to talk with her. But it had been thirty-six hours since they had seen one another. He had missed her. Had she missed him?
Aware that Ally hadn’t exactly invited him in, Hank folded his arms and lounged against the chest of drawers. He was beginning to feel a little defensive, which seemed unwarranted, given all he had been doing behind the scenes on their behalf. “Why didn’t you call me back?” he asked quietly.
Ally brushed her hair into place and spritzed it with hair spray. She steadfastly averted her gaze. “The message that you were coming home by six this evening didn’t exactly warrant a reply.”
Annoyed that he’d fallen so hard and fast for a woman who seemed easily able to do without him, Hank lifted a brow and said nothing in response.
Still doing her best to ignore him-although he was pretty sure she could see him out of her peripheral vision-Ally grabbed a dress out of her closet. Chin high, she headed for the bathroom across the hall. Over her shoulder, she added, “And I was busy.”
Irked by her swift, inexplicable change of attitude toward him, Hank waited for her to come back out.
She looked as incredibly sexy as he expected in a cranberry-red dress. The V-neck exposed the lovely slope of her throat and the hint of décolletage; the fabric clung closely to her breasts, waist and hips before flaring out slightly. Ally rummaged in a drawer and pulled out a package of panty hose. “As were you, I take it.”
He had been, with extraordinarily good results.
Not that she wanted to hear about it. At least not yet…
Ally disappeared into the bathroom again. When she emerged, she wore a pair of black stilettos that made her legs look spectacular.
Which made him wonder what else she had on under that sexy dress. And how hard would it be to get her to take it off for him.
Ally applied lipstick in front of the mirror. Then mascara, eyeshadow and perfume.
She was so beautiful. And clearly, so determined to make him jealous.
Despite his pique, he couldn’t stop watching her, couldn’t draw his gaze from the loveliness of her features.
When she opened a velvet case and removed a gold pendant necklace, he finally gave in to curiosity. “I presume you’re going out this evening?” he drawled.
“Yes.” Ally fastened the clasp around her neck and let the teardrop pendant fall between her breasts. She returned to the box for matching earrings and put those on, too. “My dinner companion should be here shortly.”
“Dinner companion,” Hank repeated.
Finished, she gave her hair a final pat and turned to him. Her green eyes held a glacial frost. “Was there something you wanted?”
Yes, Hank thought. You. But aware how that would likely go over, he decided to cut to the chase, and asked instead, “Just for the record. Are you angry with me?”
“Why would I be angry with you?” Ally replied sweetly.
I have no idea. Wanting peace between them, Hank guessed, “For leaving you alone with Duchess and the puppies?” And not getting you extra help with them despite the fact you insisted you did not need it?
Ally shot down that theory with a decisive shake of her head. “I adored being with them.”
So… “It’s me you’d rather not spend time with,” Hank concluded.
“Bingo.”
Another silence fell between them, and then the doorbell rang.
“That’s for me!” Ally grabbed an evening bag and a black velvet jacket and headed for the stairs.
Hank ambled after her.
He was not happy when he saw her “date” for the evening.
Judging by the determined look on her face as she sailed out the door, Ally knew that.
“EVERYTHING OKAY?” Graham Penderson asked Ally as they took their seats in the Lone Star Dance Hall.
I wish you had chosen another place to dine, she thought. But it was no surprise-Greta McCabe’s restaurant, with its lively atmosphere and superb food-was the place to spend a social evening in Laramie. And it was clear that Graham Penderson-and by extension, Corporate Farms-were now going all out to woo her, just as Hank had predicted they would.
“Everything’s fine,” she answered. I just wish I’d had time to quiz Hank about his trip with Lulu. It would have been interesting to hear what he had to say.
Not that she wanted or needed to know, since she and Hank were history.
Still…
“We’ve had a chance to review the initial property assessment on Mesquite Ridge and think we might have come up a little short in our first offer,” Graham said.
No surprise there, either.
Ally turned her full attention on her dinner partner, adopting her most hard-edged business demeanor. “I’m not going to be pushed into responding to any offer from Corporate Farms.”