Unmasking The Maverick. Teresa Southwick

There were times, like now, when she missed her sisters being around to tell her whether or not the neckline of this dress was too plain and begged for jewelry. If her hair was too curly, too straight or just right. Did her newly perfected smoky eye make her look like a hooker?

      Brenna would always flop on the bed and give her two cents. You look too prudish. Lower the neckline, shorten the skirt. Show more skin. A little cleavage couldn’t hurt.

      Fiona turned from side to side, studying the way the soft material clung to her breasts. “Make him wonder about what he can’t see,” she told her reflection.

      The first time they met she’d looked like a pig wrestler. Yesterday she’d had time to brush her hair and put on some tinted sunscreen along with sheer lip gloss. Tonight she was going for something between demure and dynamite. Just to show him she could. If only her sisters were here to confirm that she’d pulled it off.

      Fiona glanced at the clock beside her bed and her heart skipped a beat. He would be here soon. There was still time to tone it down if her mother thought she’d gone too far.

      Grabbing her heavy wool shawl and black clutch purse, she headed downstairs, where Maureen O’Reilly was fixing dinner. The kitchen was a big, open room with lots of counter space, a farm sink and a big round oak table with eight chairs. Years ago, when all of them had been under one roof, they’d totaled seven.

      Now, Fallon and Brenna were happily married and sharing living space with their respective husbands. Her older brothers, Ronan and Keegan, had bachelor quarters here on the ranch where they worked. The two showed no sign of settling down and it worked for them. Her mother was thrilled to have them close by.

      Maureen was checking something in the oven, then straightened and turned when she heard Fiona’s footsteps on the wood floor. “Hey, sweetie. You look beautiful. That emergency shopping trip yesterday afternoon really paid off.”

      Fiona looked down at the slightly flared skirt and smoothed her palms over her hips. Unlike Fallon and Brenna, their mother might sugarcoat her opinion.

      “You don’t think it’s too—”

      “It’s not too anything.” She set pot holders on the counter beside the pot simmering on the stove. “Not too dressy, just casual enough.”

      That had been the challenge since Fiona didn’t know where they were going to dinner. “Really?”

      “Yes.”

      The back door opened and in walked her tall, handsome, brown-haired, blue-eyed brothers. Women were drawn to them like dieters to donuts. And both stopped dead in their tracks when they saw her.

      Ronan, the oldest, whistled. “Look at you. Got a hot date?”

      Brendan was hot, but this wasn’t technically a date. “I’m going out.”

      “With who?” Keegan asked.

      “No one you know,” she hedged.

      “How do you know who we know?” her oldest brother challenged her.

      Instead of answering, Fiona blew out a breath and met her mother’s gaze. “Why are they here?”

      “It’s pot roast night,” Keegan said, as if that explained why these two, who often fended for themselves, had shown up for dinner.

      “So what?” She knew she sounded like a ten-year-old, but it couldn’t be helped. The knuckleheads would not help get her to a Zen place before Brendan showed up. In fact, they’d do just the opposite. “Mom could fix pheasant under glass and the two of you couldn’t be counted on to put in an appearance.”

      “Are we unreliable?” Ronan asked his mother.

      “Yes.”

      He walked over and affectionately slid his arm across her shoulders. “Am I still your favorite?”

      “I do not have favorites where my children are concerned. I can, however, confirm that you are still the oldest of five.”

      “And Fiona is the oldest girl.” There was a teasing gleam in Keegan’s eyes that women seemed to find adorable, if Rust Creek Falls gossip was anything to go by. “She’s the only one of my sisters still here for dinner. Oh, wait, she’s wearing a dress. The world has gone crazy.”

      “I’ve changed my mind—” she started to say before Keegan interrupted her.

      “Along with your tomboy look.”

      “It’s official,” she said. “Brenna isn’t the dramatic one. You are.”

      “I’m Irish.” Keegan grinned. He was awfully cute when he did that. “Drama is a badge of honor.”

      “And so is being good with words,” Ronan pointed out. “Which you are, sis. You’ve verbally danced around the question of who you are going out with. Now, fess up. Who did you put on a pretty new dress for tonight?”

      “What are you? The fashion police? You don’t know that it’s new.” Since when did he get hit with the observant stick?

      “You’re deflecting again,” he countered. “This could be serious.”

      “Or, to say it a different way,” Keegan chimed in, “what poor, unsuspecting guy are you trying to snag?”

      “That’s ridiculous,” she countered.

      “Is it?” He arched an eyebrow and held up three fingers while he ticked off his reasons. “Oldest girl. Still not married. Pushing the big three-oh.”

      “I’d like to push you off a cliff,” she mumbled. “And for your information, not that you deserve any consideration, but I am not looking for a husband. I don’t need one to enjoy a full and happy life.”

      “That’s very enlightened of you.” Keegan nodded approvingly. “I could have told you that. All you had to do was ask.”

      “Can we talk about the fact that you’re alone?” Fiona made a scoffing sound. “Because, judging by your track record, you are the very last person I would take advice from.”

      “Why me?” There was mock innocence on her brother’s face. “Ronan is the one who set you up with Tate Gibbs.”

      A new guy in town that he’d met at Ace in the Hole, the local cowboy bar. The jerk had turned out to be a liar and cheat.

      She noticed a guilty expression on her oldest brother’s face. In spite of her annoyance with these two, she didn’t want him to feel bad about what happened. Ultimately she’d made the choice to fall for her ex. It was her own bad judgment that got her heart broken. Lesson learned.

      “I’m not looking to get married,” she said firmly. “I’ve stopped looking for a man. Period.”

      “Keep an open mind, honey.” Up until now their mother had stayed out of the verbal volley and simply listened. Now, though, she stepped in. “When you least expect it, that’s when love will happen. When you’ve stopped looking, it will find you.”

      Another tired saying that should be stitched on a sampler and hung on the wall. Fiona envied her parents’ thirty-plus years of marriage. They were still happy and deeply in love, stealing kisses like teenagers when they thought no one was watching. More than once someone would teasingly tell them to get a room. But that kind of love was exactly what she wanted. It just didn’t seem as if it was in the cards for her. And there was no way she’d settle for less.

      Brendan Tanner was intriguing, she would give him that. And there was something inherently heroic about him. The way he’d handled little Jared with patience and kindness spoke to how he would be with kids of his own. And the fact that he was taking her to dinner instead of letting her pay him to fix the tractor made him seem like a really good man. But she’d been wrong before.

      He was basically another stranger in town and she was definitely against getting burned again. He was certainly a pretty package