The Angel Tasted Temptation (28 page)

"All right, tell me what you did," Kenny said, sliding the second cup over to Travis. "I want to at least get in one good chuckle before I'm standing in the unemployment line."

"I—" Travis cut himself off, glancing again at the television. An ad for a soap opera filled the screen, nowhere near as exciting as the images he'd just been seeing.

A sense of urgency filled him. He'd done something to help Meredith, but had it been enough?

And besides, what the hell was he doing here, waiting for Larry to come in and blow a gasket, when he could be
there
—with her?
Duh
, as his teenage cousins would say. He was in the wrong place. He'd been in the wrong place for days.

"Sorry, Kenny. No can do." He got to his feet and pushed the chair back in against the table. "I have to go help a cow."

Travis's Apologies-Come-in-Little-Packages Seafood Puff Pastries

1 8-ounce package cocktail shrimp

8 ounces crabmeat

1 cup ricotta cheese

2 tablespoons each chopped parsley, dill and basil

2 tablespoons celery, minced

2 tablespoons onion, minced

1/2 teaspoon paprika

1 package puff pastry

You need something that's going to impress her, yet not take a lot of time or Emeril's skills to create. Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Roll out the puff pastry to 1/8-inch thickness. Cut into 8 squares.

Mix all the other ingredients together. Fill each of the puff pastry squares with the seafood mixture, then twist the tops together to make a little package. (Hey, what'd you expect? Something that looked like a swan?) Put them on a cookie sheet and bake for 25-30 minutes.

Serve it fast, before she has time to think about all the reasons why dating you might not be such a good idea after all.

"Can a thirsty man have a drink?"

Meredith turned at the sound of the familiar voice. There was Travis, standing on the other side of the small table she and her mother had set up, wearing a white shirt and red tie and looking sexier than any man had a right to. She started to smile, then remembered her resolve to hate him for the rest of her natural life and kept her features stony. "Certainly."

She reached for a paper cup of milk, wishing Momma would tend to Travis instead. But her mother was busy chatting with a reporter from one of the local weekly papers, giving him her recipe for a vinegar and dishsoap all-purpose cleanser. The young man, who didn't look like he'd been out of college for more than a day, diligently took notes, as if he was girding up for major mildew battle.

"Here you are," Meredith said, handing Travis the milk. Then she turned to Bessie, giving the old Holstein a rub on her silky ears. The media crowd had petered out for the time being, leaving her and Travis alone. If she didn't count the cow.

"What? No cookies?" he said. "Everyone knows you can't have milk without cookies."

"Yeah, especially the fake kind." Her voice held a cutting edge to it that was unlike her and for a second, she wanted to take the words back.

"I deserved that." Travis took a step forward, the paper cup seeming so small in his large, strong hands. "But I also deserve a chance to make this up to you."

She let out a sigh. "Why can't you just leave me alone? You and that company you work for have ruined everything. All I can do now is try to repair the damage."

He arched a brow and grinned. "And you're going to do that with a... cow?"

Despite herself, she laughed. "Hey, it's a good idea."

Admiration shimmered in his eyes. "It is. I only wish I'd thought of it."

"Hey, if you want to trade places..." she said, plucking at the cow costume and gesturing toward him. For a second, the tension between them evaporated and Meredith could believe it was just like it used to be when they'd first gone out. Sweet Easy, with that ever-present hum of sexual electricity running between them.

"Uh, no. I think cowprint looks much better on you than it ever would on me." He gave Bessie a gentle rub behind the ears. "Nice cow."

Bessie let out a moo of agreement and clopped her hooves on the pavement as she moved from foot to foot.

"I don't see too many of these around here, and I bet neither do any of those people," Travis said, gesturing to the circle of gawkers who had spilled out of the office buildings and were pointing at the cow in wonder. Travis stroked Bessie's nose, which gave the Holstein an invitation to move closer to him.

"Welcome to my world," Meredith said. "If you lived in Heavendale, this would be about all you'd see. Cows, corn and crows."

Travis looked at Meredith, his gaze not on Bessie at all anymore. "I happen to think the view is very pretty."

Meredith turned away, refusing to be drawn back into the soft sound of his voice or the gentle way he gazed at her.

"Meredith," Momma scolded, turning to her daughter. "Why didn't you give this nice young man some cookies?"

"I've been trying to figure out the same thing, Mrs. Shordon," Travis said. He put out a hand to her. "Travis Campbell."

Momma smiled appreciation at his good manners, then shook with him. When she was done, she withdrew her hand and squirted a dab of Purell onto it from under the table, as she always did after any
mano-a-mano
contact.

Travis put out his hands for a dab of antibacterial gel to wipe off the cow germs. Momma obliged, flashing Travis a smile that said he and his good hygiene had been immediately accepted into her circle. "And which paper are you with?"

"None. I'm here to see Meredith. And to help you both with your milk campaign."

Momma looked from Meredith to Travis, and back again. "You're with my daughter?"

"He's not with me, Momma. He's—"

"Here to help," Travis interrupted, circling the table and grabbing a fresh gallon of milk from the cooler by their feet. He peeled off the seal, then started pouring. Momma beamed. There was nothing she liked better than a man who put some actions behind his words. "He's a nice looking one," she whispered into Meredith's ear.

"I thought you wanted me to marry Caleb."

Momma tugged Meredith over to help her arrange more cookies on the tray—and so she could put in her two cents without Travis overhearing. "As much as I'd like the family discount on a plot at Heavendale Gardens, what I really want is whatever will make you happy, dear."

"Even if it means not living in Heavendale anymore?"

Her mother paused, a raspberry thumbprint halfway between the Rubbermaid container and the silver tray. "Not living in Heavendale? But why?"

Oh, this wasn't the time. Or the place. Or how she wanted to tell her mother at all. She was wearing a cow costume, for God's sake, and clutching a leash attached to a 1,300-pound Holstein.

It wasn't exactly the right outfit for telling your mother you wanted to leave home for good.

And then there was Travis, two feet away and sending her a jumble of messages that had her heart running through a continuous spin cycle.

"We can talk about this later," Meredith said, waving a hoof at the group forming a perimeter around their public display.

Momma perched a hand on her hip. "I don't care if the entire free world is watching. My little girl just said she wants to leave me forever."

"It's not like I'd be moving to another planet."

Momma turned back to the cookies. "You might as well be." She sniffled. "Apparently Heavendale isn't good enough for you."

Travis, who had kept busy during the conversation by pouring milk, now crossed over to them.
Oh great
. He thought he could fix this, too?

"Boston's not such a bad place, Mrs. Shordon. We do have flights to Indiana, every day, too."

"It's not the same. I always thought my daughter would live right next door to me."

"You never know," Travis said, handing Momma a cup of milk and a smile. "Things can change down the road. Priorities change." At this, his eyes met Meredith's.

As if he had some kind of message to communicate.

She scowled at him, as best as one could scowl while wearing udders and holding a Holstein. What did he think he was doing? Every time this man got within five feet of her, he screwed up her life. Now he was practically telling her mother that if she left Heavendale, it would only be temporarily.

She'll be back on the farm in no time, Mrs. Shordon.

No, thank you. Meredith may have thought she was going back to Indiana when she'd first left, but now, she couldn't imagine leaving any of this for the predictable and confining life she'd had before.

"I like you," Momma said, patting Travis on the shoulder. "You must make your mother proud."

Travis let out a chuckle. "I don't know about that, Mrs. Shordon. I don't think she thinks about whether or not I'm making her proud."

"Doesn't she live near you?"

Travis finished with the milk, capped the jug and put it back into the cooler. "My mother is in Florida, doing a good job of retiring."

"Then who takes care of you?"

"Takes care of me?" Travis grinned. "Me."

Momma scoffed. "Well. That explains everything." She gave Travis an appraising glance that swept over his frame, taking in what Meredith saw as a trim waist but she knew Momma saw as a too-thin body. "You come to Aunt Gloria's house some night. I'll feed you right and take care of you."

This was not going well at all. Next her mother would be getting out her tape measure for Travis— for a very different reason.

And so, she imagined, would Caleb, should Travis ever come to Heavendale. But he'd be measuring to make sure he could fit Travis into the back part of the hearse.

Meredith grabbed the only thing she could think of to break the two of them apart. Bessie.

She tugged on the leash, but Bessie didn't want to move. The Holstein let out a whiny moo and stayed put. Meredith scooted around to the cow's flank and pushed, but Bessie didn't budge. Momma and Travis kept on chatting, going on and on about dinner possibilities, as if he'd been invited right into the family already.

Meredith spun to the right and grabbed some hay from the pile that had come with Bessie—the bribe that had gotten her off the trailer and into Government Center. Earlier that morning, she had trotted after the hay like a Greyhound after an electric rabbit, eager to go anywhere as long as she could have a bite.

But now, she couldn't care less.

"You'll just have to try my biscuits and gravy for breakfast," Momma was saying. "You haven't lived until you've had that. Meredith makes it even better than me, I think."

Travis smiled her way. "Is that so? Well, I'll just have to try some of both recipes. I bet they're both wonderful and Meredith learned some great cooking skills from you. I'm sure you run a tight ship in the kitchen."

Travis's comment sent him soaring to notches unknown on Momma's approval rating. Meredith's mother gestured to her to come over and play nice with him.

Instead, Meredith gave Bessie another shove. The cow looked back at the annoyance on her butt, flicked an ear and went back to chewing her cud.

Meredith muttered several curses under her breath. She'd moved cows at home before, hundreds of times. What was wrong with her?

"Travis has a cleaning lady to help him keep his place spic-n-span, did you know that?" Momma said, her voice bright with appreciation for this cleanliness luxury. "
A cleaning lady,
Meredith."

This time, Meredith slipped in front of Bessie, reached behind her own butt and wiggled her tail, then sashayed forward, tugging on Bessie's leash at the same time. The cow plodded after her, a lemming going wherever the other spots in front of it were headed.

Meredith and Bessie slipped right between Momma and Travis, effectively ending their conversation with the insertion of a half-ton beast. "I think Bessie's getting bored over there," Meredith said. "She wants a change of view. And company."

Momma frowned. "Travis, dear, could you put these cookies at the end of the table while I get another tray together?"

"Certainly." He took the silver tray and moved a few feet away.

"He's a good man," Momma whispered again. "You could do worse than marry him."

"Will you quit with that? God, I feel like a heifer at an auction. Highest bidder gets the bride."

Momma pursed her lips and kept stacking the round desserts in concentric circles.

From his place down the table, Travis sent her a grin. Meredith flapped a hoof at him and wished she could disappear into the ground, udders and all.

She was saved from a shotgun wedding by one of the reporters from the
Middlesex News
. He approached the table and Travis handed him a cup of milk and a couple of cookies.

"Hey, thanks," the guy said, introducing himself as Sherman Maxwell before taking a gulp. "This is good stuff."

"Real milk, it's the best way to go," Travis said. "And the healthiest."

Sherman finished one of his cookies, then put his cup down and readied his pen and skinny pad. "Yeah, but I thought I saw her," he said, indicating Meredith with the tip of the ballpoint, "on a billboard drinking some chemical crap."

Travis shook his head. "That billboard was a mistake. It's gone now."

Gone? When had it come down? No one had told Meredith anything about that. She glanced across the plaza at her brothers, realizing just now that they had never come over to eject, or duct tape, Travis. Which meant only one thing.

They were on his side.

When she caught Ray Jr.'s eye, he gave her a confident tip of his chin and a thumbs-up that said the Shordon boys had taken care of it.

"Miss Shordon, did Belly-Licious Beverages use your image without your permission?" Sherman asked.

She glanced at Travis. Saying yes would open up the firestorm she'd been hoping to avoid. And it would undoubtedly get him fired, especially because he was here, cavorting with the "enemy."

But saying no would essentially be lying, which went against who she was as a person. Meredith Shordon might have come here to Boston for a change, but she didn't want one that took with it her basic morality.