Love on the Line - Deeanne Gist [107]
Her body began to tremble. He wasn’t Frank Comer pretending to be Lucious Landrum pretending to be Luke Palmer. He really was Lucious Landrum. Texas Ranger.
Covering her mouth, she looked around as if she might find someone in the room who would confirm her realization. But there was no one. Just her, the switchboard, and her birding paraphernalia.
She moved her fingers across her lips. She’d been kissed by Lucious Landrum. Luscious Lucious Landrum. Panicky giggles escaped her before horror quickly replaced them.
Good heavens. She’d made fun of his name right in front of him. She pressed two fists against her mouth. What had she said?
She couldn’t remember. Something about it being a ridiculous name—which it was—and something about it sounding like luscious—which it did.
What had he said? She slid her eyes closed but couldn’t recall the words. She could recall his expression, though. He’d been furious.
The knock at her door startled a squeak out of her. She jumped to her feet and whirled around. It must be Luke. Or Lucious.
She grimaced. She simply could not be in love with a man named Lucious.
I love you, Georgie.
The words he’d said to her in the glade boomeranged inside her head. He loved her. He’d said he loved her.
“Georgie?” Another knock. “Can I come in?”
Her hands flew to her hair. She’d not changed or freshened up or combed her hair.
The screen rattled. There was nothing for it.
“Coming.” She scrambled to the door, unhooked it, and swung it open.
Pushing her aside, he rushed in, looking left and right. “Why was the screen latched? Why are all the lamps out? What’s the matter?”
She smiled. He was doing his Texas Ranger stuff, except in overalls. How could she not have noticed?
He turned around, the worry on his brow slowly transforming into uncertainty. “What?”
“I love you, too.”
He blinked, then utter shock. “What?”
She let the screen close. When had the sun gone down? She must have been sitting on that couch for quite some time. “I said, I love you, too.”
“Yes, I heard you. Why did you say it?”
She moved to the lantern and lifted its globe. “Because you said it first. This afternoon while we were talking.” She struck a match, touched it to the wick, then shook out the flame. “I can’t remember what I said, but I know I didn’t tell you—”
One minute she was facing the table, the next she was in his arms, his mouth pressed to hers, his arms crushing her against him. Hmmmm. Luscious.
She giggled.
He pulled back. “Are you laughing? Is something funny?” His voice held a decidedly affronted tone.
“I think you’re luscious,” she whispered.
“That’s not funny.”
She giggled again.
“We’ll discuss it later.” He continued with his kiss.
By the time he was finished, she couldn’t think, much less laugh. He appeared satisfied with her reaction. Arrogant man.
As the fog began to clear, her curiosity swelled. She wanted to know everything there was to know about Lucious Landrum. “Do you have your badge and Warrant of Authority?”
Slipping a hand in his pocket, he withdrew a silver five-pointed star, then handed it to her. The cold metal spanned her entire palm. In its center, RANGER had been engraved in large, bold letters. Arced above it, TEXAS. Below it, STATE.
She pressed it against his chest. “Looks kind of silly with overalls, doesn’t it?”
He smiled. His eyes patient. Tolerant. And smoldering.
Swallowing, she handed it back to him and exchanged it for a black pocket-size folding case. She smoothed her hand over the soft, well-worn leather, wondering what stories it could tell. Inside she opened a small official-looking document with fancy lettering.
This is to certify the bearer, Lucious Landrum, is a Private in Company “A” Ranger Force, State of Texas, and this is his Warrant of Authority as a Ranger and will be exhibited as his authority to act as a Ranger when called upon for his credentials.
Beneath it