Her Passionate Plan B by Dixie Browning Page A

hubba-hubba, but not every prospect turned out to be available.
    â€œFor Faylene?” Sasha looked horrified. “No way!”
    â€œDidn’t we decide on Gus for Faylene?”
    â€œOh, right. But we’ll let Daisy have first pick. What do you think, does wearing western boots and being from Oklahoma make a man a cowboy?”
    â€œBeats me.”
    â€œYee-haw, ride ’em, cowboy,” Sasha caroled, wriggling her well padded behind.
    Marty laughed. “It’ll help if you haven’t destroyed what’s left of her hair with that smelly goop you call a conditioner.”
    â€œHey. A friend of mine invented that goop. She’s trying to get it patented.”
    â€œAs what? Insect repellant?”

Seven
    T he air coming through the open window smelled of marshy riverbanks rather than soybean fields and pine woods. Daisy yawned and stretched. Evidently the wind had shifted. If rain was on the way, she hoped it would get it over with by Wednesday. She still had a few reservations about the plans for Faylene and Gus, but now that Marty’s bookstore had closed, her friend needed a distraction.
    Rolling over onto her side, she slid her foot over the smooth percale sheet. This had always been her favorite time for planning, before the affairs of the day intruded.
    One intrusion in particular came to mind. Kell Magee. To have known him no longer than she had, he was making far too large an impression. How long was he planning to stay? If the woman who’d called here was an employee, the sooner he got back, the better. Shedidn’t sound particularly capable, not when he’d had to call the police on her behalf.
    It was none of her business, Daisy warned herself.
    The trouble was, the longer he hung around here, being helpful, looking sexy and wistful, asking questions she couldn’t possibly answer, the harder it was to remain detached.
    She moved her foot again on the narrow bed, imagining how it would feel to encounter a warm, hairy calf. Then, with an impatient exclamation, she sat up and rubbed her scalp, trying to restore a bit of circulation to her obviously oxygen-starved brain.
    Order of the day, she told herself firmly: get up, finish what has to be done, get out of here and get on with your own plans. “And while you’re at it,” she muttered, “forget you ever met Magee.”
    Easier said than done, she admitted ruefully as she went through a few lackadaisical stretching exercises. At least now she was clear on her priorities. With the start they had already made, it shouldn’t take long to finish up in the library and whip through the last few rooms. By the end of the week, or maybe even sooner, she’d be finished.
    By that time Kell would have wound up his affairs and be on his way back to Oklahoma.
    Well, good. That settled that, then. One lucky cowboy would never know how close he’d come to having his bones jumped by a sex-starved female whose brain was on temporary leave.
    By the time she’d showered and pulled on a pair of scrubs, Kell was gone. The coffeemaker was cold and empty, and there were no dishes in the sink, whichmeant he was either going without breakfast or headed out of town.
    Whatever, it meant he wouldn’t be hanging around, offering to help with whatever job she tackled. Tempting her with quick grins and lazy, drawling double entendres.
    Not that they were, it was only that in that dark-chocolate voice of his, a simple question about the local schools sounded like foreplay. “Miss Daisy, you are truly pathetic,” she murmured, amused and a little bit alarmed. At least she knew now that the use-by date on her hormones hadn’t expired.
    The house was almost too quiet as she finished her skimpy breakfast. She washed her bowl and mug and left them to drain dry, bracing herself to tackle the last few things in the library—stacks of periodicals, the photo albums and the big desk. She hated the