Midsummer Madness. Christine Rimmer

      “Do you like this?

      “I mean, are you enjoying what’s happening between you and me?” Juliet’s voice was soft, hesitant.

      “Hell, yes,” Cody answered.

      “Then what…what’s wrong?” Juliet asked.

      “I didn’t say anything was wrong, exactly…. I want to talk, that’s all.”

      She looked at him, her expression desperate and unhappy. Finally she pleaded, “Can’t we just wait? Please?”

      “Until when?”

      She sighed. “Until the festival’s over. Can’t we just have a wonderful time until then?”

      “Live out your fantasy, you mean?” His voice had a bitter edge.

      She looked away. “Yes. I suppose.”

      He was quiet, considering. He was her fantasy come true, and nothing more. Soon enough, she’d be ready for reality again—and he’d be out the door….

      CHRISTINE RIMMER

      came to her profession the long way around. Before settling down to write about the magic of romance, she’d been everything from an actress to a salesclerk to a waitress. Now that she’s finally found work that suits her perfectly, she insists she never had a problem keeping a job—she was merely gaining “life experience” for her future as a novelist. Christine is grateful not only for the joy she finds in writing, but for what waits when the day’s work is through: a man she loves, who loves her right back, and the privilege of watching their children grow and change day to day. She lives with her family in Oklahoma. Visit Christine at her new home on the Web at www.christinerimmer.com.

      Midsummer Madness

      Christine Rimmer

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      For my sister, B.J. Jordan,

       who always believed in me, and for my brother, Paul Smith, who held out a hand when I needed one.

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      One

      “Cody, um, I’ll take over…if you want….”

      Cody McIntyre didn’t hear the hesitant proposition, partly because it was spoken so softly, and partly because he was glaring at the phone he’d just slammed back into its cradle. His mind was occupied with dark, murderous thoughts—thoughts that concerned the immediate and permanent elimination from the world of the “expert” from Hollywood who was supposed to have shown up in Emerald Gap the day before, and who had just called to say he wasn’t going to be showing up at all.

      “Cody….”

      This time he heard something. “Hmm?” he asked absently, glancing at the only other person in the room, his bookkeeper, Juliet Huddleston, whom he’d known all his life. Juliet sat at the spare desk in the corner, with his midmonth payroll spread out in front of her. “You say something, Julie?”

      Maybe he really should sue the bastard, Cody was thinking, though lawsuits were generally not his style. Men like Cody considered a handshake a bond—and simply cut off dealings with people who didn’t.

      Juliet sat on an armless swivel chair. Now she spun in the chair, until she faced him straight on. “I said, I’ll do it.”

      Cody hadn’t the faintest idea what she was talking about, but he figured it must be important. She was looking directly at him, her hazel eyes unwavering. For shy Julie Huddleston, a dead-on look like the one she was giving him was such a rarity as to be kind of spooky.

      “You all right, Julie?”

      “I’m fine.” She straightened her narrow shoulders and tugged on the jacket of the gray business suit she was wearing. “And I want to do it.” She looked downright resolute.

      “Er, do what?”

      She cleared her throat. “I want to take over that director’s job. I want to run the town pageant this year.”

      Cody stared at her, his surprise at what she’d just proposed so complete that he more or less forgot how to talk for a moment. Then his voice returned. “Midsummer Madness?” He muttered the name of the annual ten-day festival in frank disbelief. “You want to run Midsummer Madness this year?”

      Juliet picked up his amazement at her suggestion, and blinked. She suddenly looked more like herself. Her eyes got that soft, anxious look. But she didn’t give in. She confirmed, “Yes,” the affirmative weakened only by the little gasp she took between the y and the e.

      Cody stole a moment to comb his hair back with his fingers. He liked Julie, always had. In fact, ever since they were kids, he’d always made it a point to keep one eye out for her. The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint her; she was such a gentle soul.

      But the Juliet Huddlestons of the world were not festival directors, not by a long shot. Once again, he silently cursed the delinquent professional he’d hired, this time for making it necessary for him to hurt poor Julie’s feelings.

      Cody regretfully shook his head. “That’s sweet of you, Julie. But we’ve got to face facts. Running a pageant isn’t really up your alley.”

      Cody watched the hopeful light fade from her eyes and felt like a rat for putting it out. Her shoulders fell, and she slowly turned back to the open check register and the stack of time cards on the desk.

      Cody started around his own desk, to get closer to her and ease her hurt feelings a little. But he was stopped by the knock on the door.

      “It’s open,” he called.

      The door was flung back, and the room was filled with the sounds from the busy kitchen outside. Cody’s office was behind McIntyre’s, the bar and grill he owned and operated himself. He also owned and managed the hardware store down the street, and the family ranch a few miles out of town. Cody was a busy man. Too busy, he thought again, to run the damn summer pageant himself this year. But that was exactly what he was going to be doing.

      Each of the merchants in town took a turn, and this year was his. He’d thought it a stroke of brilliance to convince them to bring in an expert. So much for brilliance. So much for damn experts….

      “Here you are, you devil. The bartender said I could find you back here.” The shapely brunette in the doorway to the kitchen wore painted-on jeans and a little-girl pout. “Remember me?”

      Cody’s mama had raised him right. He tried to be tactful, in spite of the fact that he couldn’t recollect ever seeing this woman before in his life. “Pardon me, but I don’t recall where we met before, ma’am.” Over the woman’s shoulder, he could see the day pot washer, Elroy, paused in midscrub and leering suggestively. “Why don’t you just come on in and close that door?” Cody suggested.

      The woman made a big production of shutting the door. She glanced once in Juliet’s direction, and then shrugged, apparently deciding to pretend Julie wasn’t there. Next, the woman leaned against the closed door and sighed, a move which displayed her generous breasts to distinct advantage. “I kept hoping you’d call.”

      “Excuse me, but who are