A Little Texas Two-Step. Peggy Moreland

her. “We can nail him with that.”

      Leighanna turned to look at Reggie, her expression one of defeat. “And you think the police will believe me? I can’t prove that the money was there and I certainly can’t prove that Roger took it.” She pushed to her feet and straightened. “Forget it, Reggie. There’s only one thing left for me to do and that is to move.”

      Reggie jumped from the bed. “And what will you solve by moving?”

      “I’ll be away from him. Far away. Somewhere where he’ll never think to look for me.”

      “And where would that be?”

      “Temptation. I’m moving in with Mary Clare and her kids.”

      One

      Hank caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and glanced toward the entrance to his bar. A woman stood before the front window, bent at the waist, her chin thrust forward as she peered through its dirty glass.

      Hank muttered a curse. He was sick and damn tired of people sticking their noses in his window at all hours of the day. The sign on the door clearly read Closed, but that little fact didn’t seem to bother the throng of people who’d made their way to Temptation.

      And it’s all Cody’s fault, he grumped silently, thinking of his friend and Temptation’s sheriff. If he hadn’t come up with the fool notion to advertise for women to save Temptation from becoming a ghost town, all these folks wouldn’t have converged on their town.

      He watched, frowning, as the sun panned gold from the woman’s shoulder-length blond hair while the wind whipped it across her face. She caught the long tresses that curtained one cheek in long, delicately boned fingers to hold it back from her face.

      Scrawny little thing, he told himself as he watched her. Probably didn’t weigh more than a hundred pounds dripping wet. He stepped around the bar to get a better look. Yep, he confirmed, she was scrawny all right. Her arms were thin as reeds, her shoulders narrow, and if she had any boobs at all beneath that baggy silk blouse, she was hiding them well.

      Hank snorted and shook his head. Personally, he liked his women with a little more flesh on them. Full hips made for a man to ride, breasts big enough to fill his hands, lips thick enough to wrap around his—

      At that moment, she glanced up and caught sight of him through the window and offered him a tentative smile.

      Well, she had the lips, he admitted reluctantly. And the pearliest white teeth he’d ever seen. While he watched, she snagged the sign from the window he’d put there three days before. She disappeared for a moment, only to reappear on the other side of the locked front door. She tapped on the glass then pointed to the sign she held.

      Hank groaned. “Damn,” he muttered under his breath, knowing full well that she was wanting to apply for the waitress position he’d advertised for. And Hank knew damn good and well this was going to be a waste of his time. She couldn’t handle the job. The work was backbreaking, the hours long, his customers rowdy at best. A slip of a woman like her wouldn’t last one shift as a waitress in a bar like The End of the Road.

      Muttering curses under his breath, he crossed to the door and unlocked it. “Can I help you?”

      Leighanna took a step back and pressed the sign to her breasts, startled by the intimidating size and the gruffness of the man who stood opposite her. Tall, broad-shouldered, slim-hipped, he had the face of an angel but the eyes and the mouth of the devil himself. “I hope so,” she said, then nervously wet her lips.

      The dart of that pink tongue made Hank think of other things he’d like that tongue to do. Before he had time to follow that train of thought, though, she extended her hand.

      “I’m Leighanna Farrow,” she said by way of introduction. “Are you the owner?”

      Hank scowled. “Yeah, I’m the owner.” Reluctantly, he took her hand in his. “Hank Braden.”

      Her hand was smooth as silk against his callused palm and soft as butter, further proof that she wasn’t fit for the job.

      She pushed a smile to her lips as she withdrew her hand...but he could see the fear in her eyes, could almost smell it over the scent of her perfume. His customers would eat a woman like her alive.

      “I’d like to apply for the waitress position,” she said politely, and offered him the sign.

      Hank took it and stuck it right back in the window. “Sorry. You’re not what I had in mind.”

      Her mouth dropped open. “But—”

      “Lady,” he growled. “This is a bar, not some damn tearoom. You wouldn’t last five minutes in a place like this.”

      Her chin came up, her blue eyes as sharp as tempered steel. “And how would you know?”

      Hank snorted, then took his gaze on a slow journey from the top of her blond head to the tips of her high-heeled mules. She looked like one of those damn Dreamsicle ice cream bars, standing there in those peach-colored leggings and that baggy, watered silk blouse, looking all soft and creamy and temptingly sweet. And though he was tempted to offer her something other than a job, he knew sampling her would only bring him grief. By the regal lift of her chin and the cut of the clothes she wore, he figured she was a little classy for his taste, as well as that of his bar.

      A sardonic smile tipped one corner of his mouth as his eyes met hers again. “Trust me,” he said. “I just know.” He turned his back on her and walked away.

      Leighanna watched him and felt her last chance for employment slipping from her fingers. She needed this job, she told herself. She’d already walked the main street of Temptation, seeking employment in every possible establishment, but there wasn’t a job to be had...other than this one.

      Squaring her shoulders in determination, she yanked the sign from the window and hurried to catch up with him, her mules slapping against her heels and clicking loudly against the scarred linoleum floor. “Mr. Braden—”

      Hank wheeled and she skidded to a stop to keep from bumping into the wall of his chest. The woman was as pesky as a fly that just wouldn’t shoo. “The name’s Hank,” he snapped. “And I said no.”

      If his size wasn’t enough to send her running for her car, the threatening look in his eye should have done the trick. But it didn’t. Leighanna was that desperate. Her creditors were already breathing down her neck. “Hank, then,” she said, and fought to hide the tremble in her lips. “Look. I really need this job.”

      Hank heaved a sigh, then folded his arms across his chest. “Have you ever worked as a waitress before?”

      “No,” she replied reluctantly.

      “Well, what makes you think you can do the work?”

      “I managed a clothing boutique in Houston before I moved here, so I’m accustomed to dealing with the public. And I’m a fast learner,” she was quick to add. “Plus, I’m willing to do whatever work is required.”

      He curled his mouth in disgust. “You don’t even know what the job entails.”

      “No,” she agreed in a voice as soft as her skin. “But perhaps you could enlighten me.”

      Deciding the best way to get rid of her might be to tell her exactly what he expected of her, Hank grabbed a chair from the top of the table and plopped it onto the floor. He hiked a boot on the seat of the chair, folded his arms across his knee and narrowed an eye at her. “In the past, I’ve worked the place by myself, but with all these damn strangers that keep pouring into town as a result of the media attention Temptation’s received, business has picked up and I need help.

      “I work the bar and the grill myself, and I’d expect you to take the orders and deliver them. That means carrying trays loaded down with beer and food and clearing the tables when they’re dirty. You’ll do all the dishwashing, too. And you’ll have