Texas Magic. Nancy Robards Thompson

in my closet. And I have this really hideous pumpkin-colored tie hanging there with it. I understand that you might know of someone who has an outfit—preferably a dress—that might complement it or at least make it look good.”

      Her laugh was low and sexy.

      “I think I know just the person you have in mind.”

      The sound of her voice made him smile. He leaned back in his chair, and for the first time since he’d left her at her front door last night, he felt the tension melt out of his shoulders.

      “So, where besides a wedding does one wear such unsightly pumpkin getups?” he asked.

      “That depends on the pumpkins involved,” she said. “Pumpkins are always welcome at the farmers’ markets. This time of year, they’re frequently spotted in the produce aisle of the grocery store. Or for the really adventurous, they’ve been known to frequent ravioli and various pies and pastries. But that’s not for the everyday pumpkin; definitely not for the faint of heart.”

      “That’s very good to know,” he said. “So, you’re not faint of heart, are you?”

      “Me? No. Not me. Not at all.”

      “Did not think so. I didn’t take you for that sort of girl.”

      “What’s that supposed to mean?” Her voice wavered a little bit.

      So she wasn’t as tough as she was pretending to be. Quick-witted, yes. But not tough.

      “That’s my lame way of asking you if you’d like to go to the farmers’ market with me Thursday night. We can put on our hideous pumpkin outfits and have a scandalous night on the town.”

      “The farmers’ market is only open on Saturday mornings. I don’t think we can have a night on the town there.”

      “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”

      “No. I’m definitely not easy, if that’s what you were thinking.”

      He smiled. She wasn’t exactly what he would call bristly, but he could tell he’d struck a nerve. Of course she wasn’t easy; she was damn irresistible.

      “Then how about simply going out to dinner with me Thursday night?”

      After a few beats of silence, she said, “I’d like that very much.” Her voice was soft again.

      He heard muffled background voices over the line.

      “Is someone there with you?”

      “Yes. Did you meet my friend Pepper Merriweather? She was at the wedding.”

      Of course he remembered Pepper. Everyone in the Southeast knew Pepper Merriweather. “Right. Yes, I did meet her. Her dad is Texas Star Energy, right?”

      Caroline laughed. “Yes, though I’d never really thought of him that way. But yes, I guess in a sense he is Texas Star Energy.”

      “I’ve interviewed her father before for the paper.”

      He paused, waiting for her to react. It was an interesting dynamic. With a certain set of Dallas’s business elite, the Journal had a reputation for being reckless and socially impudent, which, in common man’s terms, meant Drew published the cold, hard truth. He’d butted heads with Harris Merriweather and some of the higher-ups at Texas Star when Drew had asked questions that, for some reason, they did not want to answer.

      It was his duty to inform the public. It was also his job to ensure the stories he published were true and unbiased. The only way he could achieve that goal was to talk to people in the know. People who were willing to talk and tell him the truth. When sources stonewalled, it sent up red flags. Those red flags only encouraged Drew to push harder. Still, with Texas Star, he got nowhere.

      While Caroline and her friend Pepper moved in those elite Dallas society circles, Caroline seemed no more one of them than Drew was. Maybe that’s why they’d had such a strong connection. Whatever the reason, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d connected with a woman on so many levels.

      “So Thursday, then. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

      It was going to be a long three days.