Tina Leonard - Last's Temptation

“Yeah, but I’m hardheaded by nature. I don’t want to believe in anything that I can’t rope or ride.”

Poppy nodded. “I understand. That’s how the majority of people sampled felt. Put, of course, in different terms than yours.”

“But I’m always up for an adventure,” he added with a devilish grin. “And that’s what I’m offering to you, Professor.”

She looked into his chocolate-brown eyes. “I don’t even know you.”

He grinned. “But don’t you feel the magic?”

Curtis and Amelia looked up at her. “Do you?” Curtis asked.

“Aunt Poppy?” Amelia said.

Goose pimples raised on her arms. “Children, it’s time to go. The sun is setting, and that means a bit of a chill this time of year. Goodbye, Mr. Jefferson. Good luck to you on your adventures.”

She escaped, her heart pounding. Oh, she had felt the magic.

It was the one thing she never wanted to feel again.

“It’s okay to be a fake,” Poppy said under her breath as she and the children walked up a small set of steps to get to her car.

She didn’t believe in real magic any more than Last Jefferson did. She only believed in the kind she could produce under the big top, wearing a foxy bikini, a skirt with sequins and some fishnets.

The children should never know. They clung to her stories of magic, believing in fairy princesses and air-hung castles and all good things that could be found if one just wished for them.

“I could be wrong,” she said, “but it seems appropriate to encourage imagination and creativity in you two. What else are myths, fairy tales and legends for?”

Curtis and Amelia looked up at her, their dear faces round and sweet. Poppy just wanted Curtis and Amelia to have the joy of being children.

Drat the cowboy for making her wonder if reality would be better for them. Esme indeed.

“I am certain Mr. Jefferson just recited some cowboy tall tales to us,” she said. “Perhaps he doesn’t even live on a ranch. Why would a true cowboy want to fly off a cliff?”

Amelia’s eyes widened. “The same reason someone wants to walk on the moon?”

Poppy shook her head. “I do believe the gentleman was yanking our chains. Let’s forget about him.”

“I’ve never met a real cowboy before,” Curtis said. “I wonder if he has a holster.”

“Oh.” Poppy crossed the street, protectively watching for traffic. “Westerns are not reality.”

“But when John Wayne—”

“We know,” Amelia said impatiently. “No more discussions about the genius of John Wayne, Curtis.”

Poppy stopped when they were on the opposite corner of the street. She glanced down at her niece and nephew. “It may be time for you two to be enrolled in public school.”

They looked at her.

“Why?” Curtis asked. Amelia stared silently.

“Because. We may have veered too far into the land of make-believe. It’s possible that the judge is right.”

“You called him an old goat,” Curtis reminded her.

She sighed, regretting the moment of her quick tongue filing its nervous complaint. “I did. But he may be right about the stability issue.”

“Why?” Amelia asked. “You said stability was for people who accepted that adventure was dead. That fortune wasn’t built nor determined by people who wouldn’t take a chance.”

“True, but I may be working on a new hypothesis. Children who are taught the realities of life do not end up flying from cliffs.”

Their eyes went wide.

Poppy shrugged. “It’s something to consider. And I must always consider your welfare, first and foremost.” She squeezed their hands. “Kids, look. I have no experience as a mother. I don’t even know what I’m doing. It’s possible the judge has reason to be concerned about the way I’m raising you.” What was so great about life under a big top or on a stage anyway?

It could be time to stop doing research. She’d made a lot of people believe in her magic. She’d proven to herself that people did want to believe, if only for the moment, and that taking their cares away for a while was a gift. Maybe that was the only magic she could really believe in. “And it could be that your mother wouldn’t have wanted you to live such a bohemian lifestyle.”

“Excuse me, for the last time,” she heard from behind her. “I swear.”

The cowboy had followed her and the children across the street. Bare-chested still. Her breath left her. If he was a stalker, he was a very handsome one.

“I need to clarify one thing,” Last said. “Just in case you ever decide to take me up on my offer.”

“I won’t.”

“I’m not planning on being around there much, at least for a while,” he admitted.

She gazed at him.

“If I’m the reason you might not consider it, that is.”

“I don’t know that the judge would approve of us picking up and leaving the state at this time. Also, my parents really need me—or at least I tell myself they do.”

Last nodded. “I understand. And to tell you the truth, while life on a ranch can be stable, we Jeffersons do not have a reputation for stability.”

She put a hand on her hip. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”

“But the ranch is in a town populated by very nice characters. Again, something to consider, just in case you change your mind. It’s the Jefferson ranch in Union Junction, Texas, better known as Malfunction Junction.”

The kids grinned. Poppy did not. “The ranch, not the town, is better known as Malfunction Junction?”

“Specifically the nickname refers to my family,” he said softly in a voice that sent silken shivers over Poppy’s skin. “It’s the bane of our existence. We are a malfunctioning crew, whether we admit it or not.”

He was a rogue and a daredevil, she realized. Perhaps a bit crazy.

Everything she did not need in her life.

“We’re late,” she told the cowboy. “I hope to never see you again.”

He looked hurt. She shook her head, turning to walk away. The kids peered over their shoulders at him.

“Oh, he looks like a puppy,” Amelia observed. “Poor cowboy.”

Poppy sighed.

“Why don’t you like him, Aunt Poppy?” Curtis asked.

“I have to be very careful,” she said, specifically thinking about rogues and daredevils who made a woman do stupid things…bedroom things.

Last was a delicious specimen of male. No illusion of magic was required to make him more visually desirable than he was.

“Malfunction Junction sounds like fun,” Amelia said.

“What we don’t need is another circus in our lives,” Poppy said firmly. “And that’s exactly what it sounds like to me.” After another moment of brisk walking, she asked quietly, “Is he still following?”

“No,” Curtis said. “He turned around and walked away a few minutes ago.”

“After waving goodbye,” Amelia said. “You know how you always tell us not to talk to strangers?”

“Yes,” Poppy said. “And now you see why.”

There was no reply for a second.

“Well,” Curtis said, “at least I finally met a real John Wayne.”

“We don’t know that,” Poppy stated. “He wasn’t wearing a hat or boots.”

“I know that,” Curtis said. “A real cowboy doesn’t need his hat to be real.”

“When the lion tamer offered to marry you, you said he was too wild,” Amelia pointed out. “When the ringmaster offered, you said his hat was too tall and you weren’t sure what was under there. The cowboy only offered us his ranch, and he won’t even be there. Wouldn’t that mean we can trust him?”

“I don’t know,” Poppy said with determination. “And I love you two too much to find out.”