Diana Palmer - Christmas On The Range

Hayes took her by the hand and drew her along the dance floor to where Cash Grier was standing at the punch bowl with his gorgeous redheaded wife, Tippy.

“How’s it going?” Cash greeted them, shaking hands with Hayes.

Hayes stepped closer. “Rachel sent Willie over there—” he jerked his head toward Willie, who was oblivious to the attention he was getting “—a message.”

Cash was all business at once. “What message?”

Hayes prompted Ivy to repeat it.

“Code?” Cash asked Hayes.

The other man nodded. “It was two days ago that Ivy got the message.”

Cash’s dark eyes twinkled. “What a coincidence.”

“Yes.”

“Which proves that connection we were discussing earlier.” He turned to Ivy. “If your sister sends any more messages to Willie, or anyone else, by you, tell Hayes, would you?”

She was all at sea. “Rachel’s mixed up in something, isn’t she?”

“Not necessarily,” Hayes said at once. “But she knows someone who is, we think. Don’t advertise this, either.”

Ivy shook her head. “I’m no gossip.” She grimaced. “Rachel’s getting mixed up with some rich man, and she’s trying to get away from her boyfriend, who deals drugs. The rich man is married. I’m afraid it’s all going to end badly.”

“People who get involved with drugs usually do end badly,” Hayes said somberly.

“Yes, they do,” Ivy had to agree. She smiled at Tippy, who was wearing a green and white dress made of silk and chiffon. “You look lovely.”

“Thanks,” Tippy replied, smiling. “So do you, Ivy. Marcella made my dress, you know. She made yours, too, didn’t she?”

Ivy nodded, grinning. “She’s amazing.”

“I think so, too,” Tippy agreed. “I’ve sent photos of her work to some friends of mine in New York. Don’t tell her. It’s a surprise.”

“If anything comes of it, she’ll be so thrilled. That was sweet of you.”

Tippy waved away the compliment. “She’s so talented, she deserves a break.”

“Well, I came here to dance,” Hayes informed them, taking Ivy’s hand.

Cash pursed his lips. “Really?”

“I know I’m not in your league, Grier,” Hayes said dourly, “but I can do the Macarena, if we can get somebody to play it.”

“You can?” Cash chuckled. “By a strange coincidence, so can I. And I taught her.” He indicated Tippy.

“In that case,” Hayes replied, grinning, “may the best sheriff win.”

And he went off to talk to the bandleader.

The band stopped suddenly, talked among the members and they all started grinning when Hayes came back to wrap his arm around Ivy.

“One, two, three, four, ” the bandleader counted off, and the band broke into the Macarena.

Ivy knew the steps, having watched a number of important people dance it on television some years before. She wasn’t the only one who remembered. The dance floor filled up with laughing people.

Hayes performed the quick hand motions with expertise, laughing as hard as Ivy was. They got through the second chorus and Ivy almost collapsed into Hayes’s strong arms, resting her cheek against his chest.

“I’m out of shape!” she exclaimed breathlessly. “I need to get out more!”

“Just what I was thinking,” he replied, smiling down at her.

Ivy happened to glance toward the doorway at that moment. Her gaze met a pair of pale blue eyes that were glittering like a diamondback rattlesnake coiling. Ivy’s heart ran away as Stuart York gave her a look that could have fried bread.

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