And The Winner--Weds!. Robin Wells

out here in a moment.”

      “Well, now,” said an unfamiliar voice. “I thought summer was already here, seeing as it’s the end of June.”

      It was a low, deep throb of a voice, smoky and unrelentingly masculine. Something about it made the hair on the back of Frannie’s neck stand up, as if she’d just entered an electric force field.

      She jerked around to find two men standing just inside the doorway. The one on the right was middle-aged and stout, clad in denim overalls, a red plaid shirt and brown work boots. His gray hair was sparse and closely shorn, and he had a face as round and friendly as a pumpkin pie.

      But the other one… Frannie tried to swallow, but her mouth was suddenly so dry she felt as if her tongue had melded to the top of her mouth.

      The other one… My, oh, my.

      He was obviously the owner of that seductive voice. Tall, lean, and muscular, he wore jeans and cowboy boots, and held a battered, buff-colored Stetson hat in his hand. Frannie wasn’t sure if it was his deep tan or his denim shirt that made his eyes look so blue, but they seemed to jump out of his handsome face like blue flames, blue flames that licked at her very soul. There was a strange heat in his gaze—the heat, Frannie realized with a jolt, of sexual awareness.

      He was looking at her in the way a man looks at a woman. Well, of course he was, she thought distractedly—after all, she was a woman, and he was most definitely a man. What surprised her was that he was looking at her as if she were a desirable woman. His mouth was curved into a small, amused smile, and Frannie realized he was waiting for her to speak.

      She started to scramble to her feet, and tipped her chair over in the process. She leaned to pick it up, caught her foot on a chair roller, and toppled into the over turned chair face-first, leaving her bottom in the air.

      “Hey, are you all right?” The handsome man quickly rounded the desk and took her arm, helping her pull herself upright.

      His hand was warm, and the warmth spread rapidly through her body, causing her cheeks to burn. Frannie smoothed her sweater, embarrassed at her awkwardness. “I, uh, I’m fine. I was, uh, expecting someone else.”

      “Sorry to disappoint you, ma’am.” His low, smoky voice managed to make the word “ma’am” sound like a caress.

      His hand was still on her upper arm. Frannie felt as tongue-tied as a schoolgirl. “Oh, I’m not disappointed.” The moment she said it, she wanted to bite her tongue. Why did she always manage to say and do the most awkward things whenever she was around a handsome man?

      The corners of his mouth curved up further. “Well, good.” He dropped his hand and stepped back.

      Frannie was certain she’d never met him before, yet something about him seemed strangely familiar. “Do I know you?”

      “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure. I’m sure I would have remembered.”

      Frannie gave a wry grin. “Not necessarily. I don’t always make such a memorable first impression.”

      The man laughed, and a fresh tug of attraction pulled at Frannie’s chest. Did he look at every woman that way, as if he found her attractive and fascinating? He no doubt did. Most women probably just weren’t as susceptible to it as she was. It was probably some kind of subliminal body-language come-on that she ought to know better than to fall for, but she knew no such thing. Whatever he was doing, it was working. Oh, yes, it was definitely working.

      She tried to pull her thoughts out of the fog and search her mind for a reason the man looked so familiar. Maybe he was a movie star or a TV actor.

      Maybe, she thought as she watched him circle back around the front desk, he was just the man of her dreams. Aunt Celeste believed that dreams were gateways to the soul, that they held clues to both the past and the future.

      What on earth was the matter with her? There was no way a man such as this was going to be a part of her future. She was still staring, she realized abruptly.

      She pulled her eyes away and tugged at the bottom of her sweater again. “Thanks for the help. Sorry about the klutz attack.”

      “I’m sorry we startled you.”

      Frannie was relieved to hear Summer’s high heels click on the hardwood floor as she entered the foyer. “Gavin, is that you?” Summer appeared in the doorway, her arms high, her hands behind her neck as she fastened what Frannie recognized as Jasmine’s new necklace.

      Summer stopped in her tracks, immediately dropping her arms. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said with a smile. “I was expecting my husband.” She stepped forward and stuck out her hand. “Welcome to the Big Sky Bed & Breakfast. I’m Summer Nighthawk.”

      “Nice to meet you, ma’am.” The tall handsome man shook her hand. “I’m Austin Parker, and this here’s Tommy Deshaw.”

      Summer shook hands with both men, then cast a quizzical look at the younger one. “Austin Parker—the race car driver?”

      The man smiled sheepishly. “Afraid so.”

      “My husband is one of your biggest fans.” Summer’s smile widened. “We’d heard you’d bought some land around here.”

      “Yes, ma’am. The old Givens ranch.”

      “That place has a huge house. Do you have a large family?”

      “No, ma’am. I’m not married.”

      “No?” Summer gestured to Frannie. “Well, neither is Frannie here.”

      Frannie longed to crawl under the front desk.

      “I take it you two have met?” Summer continued.

      “Yes, ma’am. But we hadn’t quite gotten around to introductions.” He treated Frannie to a blinding smile.

      Frannie had no choice but to reach out her hand. “F—Frannie Hannon.” Good grief, she could barely say her own name! It was a good thing she’d managed to spit it out before he touched her, because when his large, warm hand closed around hers, the ability to speak deserted her along with all coherent thought. She felt a sense of both relief and loss when he loosened his grip.

      She turned and shook hands with Tommy. The older man smiled warmly. “It’s a pleasure, ma’am.”

      “Frannie, Austin Parker is the hottest ticket on the NASCAR circuit,” Summer said.

      “How…nice.”

      “Tommy here’s the really hot ticket,” Austin said, gesturing to his companion. “He’s my pit crew chief, so he’s the one who really runs the show. The crew’s what keeps a driver on the road.”

      “We’re delighted to have both of you here.” Summer’s smile included both men. “What can we do for you two gentlemen?”

      “I’d like to book a room for Tommy for the next few days, if you’ve got one available.” Austin shifted his hat to his other hand. “He’s going to be overhauling the engine on my car. I intended for him to stay out at my ranch, but I’m havin’ the place renovated and all the guest rooms are a wreck. Do you happen to have any vacancies?”

      “As a matter of fact, we’re nearly empty this evening.” Summer smiled at Tommy. “We’d be delighted to have you stay with us. Right, Frannie?”

      Frannie smiled wanly, edging her way back to the computer. That gleam in Summer’s eye meant she was up to her old match making tricks, and Frannie wanted no part of it. Trying to interest Austin in her would be like trying to interest a yacht owner in a rowboat. Turning, Frannie picked up a handful of receipts and lowered herself back into the wooden swivel chair.

      “Frannie, would you like to handle the check-in?” Summer prompted.

      Frannie froze. “I—I, uh…oh, gee, I really need to get these numbers into the computer. Since Gavin’s not