The moment she entered the parlor and saw Tom Tandy’s expression, she realized just what an odd pair they made in the eyes of the world. Rana and Trent Gamblin would have been a golden couple, but Miss Ramsey had no place at his side. If she hadn’t known that before, the football player’s reaction spelled it outclearly. To say that he was shocked was putting it mildly.
His lantern jaw dropped open and his mouth went slack with astonishment. Rana actually felt sorry for him. Trent had no doubt painted a word picture of her for the young man, and Miss Ramsey was hardly what he had expected.
“Tom, this is Ana Ramsey. Ana, Tom Tandy.”
“How do you do, Tom,” she said, extending her hand. It was still rough and unmanicured, though she had recently wanted to let her nails grow out again just for the pleasure of scratching Trent ’s back with them. When he kissed her hands or held them tightly in his, which was frequently, she longed for the days when they had been pampered. Tom briefly gripped her hand before releasing it. “Please sit down. I see that Trent has already gotten you something to drink.”
Whether Trent realized it or not, this was an awkward moment. She was playing gracious hostess in an effort to put the flabbergasted young man at ease. Now was the time for him to say to his buddy, “She’s as beautiful as you described,” or “I can see now why you’ve tucked yourself away down here in Galveston, you sly thing, you.”
Instead, Tom just stared at Rana. It wasn’t out of recognition. He was simply dismayed, she guessed, over her dissimilarity to all of Trent ’s former girlfriends.
“Would you like another beer” she asked.
“No. No, thank you,” Tom said, lowering his tall, muscular frame back onto Ruby’s antique sofa. The Victorian furniture hadn’t been designed to seat professional football players comfortably. He sank into the deep cushions, and his knees came up almost level with his chest. If Rana could have joked at that moment, she might have remarked on how ridiculously out of place Tom and Trent looked in the parlor, like giants in a dollhouse.
“Do you want a beer, darling” Trent asked as he pulled Rana down beside him on the love seat.
“You know I can’t stand the stuff, but I’ll take a sip of yours just for something wet. It’s so hot out.”
She took a sip from his can of cold beer and licked her lips. He smiled, kissed her quickly, and then looked at Tom as though for approval. Tom just continued to gape.
“Are you staying for dinner, To amp;” Rana asked to break an uncomfortable silence.
“Uh, no.” He cleared his throat loudly when his voice came out as little more than a croak. “I’ve, uh, got to get back. I have a… uh… date.”
He had driven to Galveston with the hope of taking Trent back to Houston with him. He figured that his friend had been playing monk long enough. They were due to leave for summer training camp in a few days. Tom intended to party between now and then, and he had assumed Trent would be thinking along the same lines. It had been shocking enough to learn that Trent had no intention of carousing.
But when Ana Ramsey had walked into the room, Tom felt as if the rug had been jerked out from under him. He couldn’t believe his eyes. Any moment now, he thought, somebody was going to tell him the punch line.
“I think Trent ’s visit down here has done wonders for him,” Tom said conversationally.
If Trent ’s Ana had been beautiful and sophisticated, he would have had no trouble bantering with her. But this woman in the baggy trousers and vest left him tongue-tied. “He’s in better shape than I’ve seen him in in years,” he said.
“We’ve been worried about his shoulder, but when he went to see the doctor last week, he pronounced it completely healed.” She turned to Trent and smiled.
“So Trent says.”
“I think he can lead the Mustangs to the Super Bowl this year and win,” Rana said confidently. She laid her hand on Trent ’s thigh in one of those unplanned gestures that says so much about the level of intimacy in a relationship.
Trent emitted an exaggerated sigh and stretched his arms out along the back of the love seat. “The lady adores me,” he said expansively.
Rana socked him playfully in the stomach. They engaged in a skirmish of batting hands that resulted in an affectionate hug.
“ Trent tells me you paint, or something,” Tom said to Rana when they finally settled down.
“More like ‘or something.’ I paint on clothing, but I’m diversifying. I’m thinking of going into upholstery-sofa cushions and accent pillows, that sort of thing.”
Tom nodded, but she didn’t think he had any concept of what she was talking about. Barry had suggested that if the wealthy women of Houston were willing to spend hundreds on original hand-painted clothing, they might be just as willing to pay thousands to have an original hand- painted chair or chaise or sofa. Rana had given it careful thought and then had bounced the idea off Trent. He had given it his wholehearted endorsement.
“Do some up,” he had suggested. “To see how they catch on, we could place them in a few of the prime properties my company is handling.”
“That’s where I’ve been today,” Rana told Tom now. “I went to a textile-surplus warehouse to buy fabric.” She indicated the large package she had left in the doorway when Trent escorted her into the parlor. “speaking of which,” she said as she stood up, “I’ll excuse myself to go upstairs and get to work.”
“Can’t you relax and visit awhile longer” Trent said, catching her arm.
“I’m sure you and Tom have a lot to talk about, so I’ll leave you alone. It was nice to meet you, Tom.”
He stood up, shuffling his feet awkwardly. “Likewise.”
“See you later, darling.” Trent tugged on her wrist and pulled her down for a lengthy kiss. When she straightened back up, she nodded self-consciously at Tom. After retrieving her package she went upstairs.
Trent watched her go, a smile on his lips. He was remembering last night. His loins stirred with the memory of how good her hair felt brushing against his thighs. Once she was out of sight, he turned back to Tom, who was sitting with his big feet spread wide, staring at the floor between them.
“Well, what do you think” Trent asked, taking a long pull on his can of beer.
Tom twiddled his thumbs, cleared his throat, rolled his shoulders, blew out a gust of air, and finally raised his head. “I think you’re probably the cruelest, coldest, most self-centered sonofabitch I’ve ever known.”
Trent slowly lowered the can of beer. He kept his eyes riveted on Tom as he set it on the coffee table. They stared at each other for a long moment; then Trent laughed shortly. “Any particular reason why?”
Tom stood up and began prowling the room with a notable absence of grace. On the football field he could make impossible catches, leaping between three defenders to come up with the football. But now, he bumped into a tea table, upset a scrimshaw sculpture, and caught his toe in the corner of the rug. Finally, he made it across the obstacle course of the parlor to the window.
“For what you’re doing to this woman,” he said in a low voice.
“What I’m doing to this woman has brought each of us a tremendous amount of pleasure. Not that it’s any of your damn business,” Trent said tightly.
Tom turned around abruptly, controlling his temper only a trifle more successfully than Trent. “You asked my opinion, remember? All right, you’re going to get it. I think the way you’re manipulating this woman is beneath even you, Trent.”