One Southern Cowboy - Jennifer Youngblood Page 0,36

remembered Jaxson’s touch—the feel of his lips on hers.

It was enough for now.

7

Don’t panic, Lemon’s mind screamed. This is only a dream. “Dreams can’t hurt me,” she murmured, sinking deeper into the pillow. An image of Jaxson flashed through her mind. She saw the tenderness in his eyes, the strength of his character. She was safe now. Safe to remember.

Lemon held her hand above her eyes, shielding them from the bright sunlight. A glint of metal caught her attention. She strained to make out the object. It looked to be a box, resting in the center of a field. A nondescript, gray metal box that should have held no significance. And yet, she couldn’t take her eyes off it. It called to her, beckoning to be opened. She took a tentative step. Brittle grass cracked beneath her feet. One step and then another, the sound keeping rhythm with her accelerating pace. She went over and picked it up, turning it over. It was a curious thing, more of a cube than a box. There seemed to be no lid. She examined it carefully, noticing a thin line an inch from the top, running along the entire box. Exerting all her strength, she pulled. Finally, the lid gave way, revealing the contents within …

Lemon ran a finger over the smooth mahogany wood of the dresser. It was modern, sleek with silver pulls. She took in the two plush striped chairs in muted wheat and gray-blue colors. Beneath the chairs was a fluffy, white shag rug. Airy linen drapes framed the large picture window. The view of the ocean was magnificent. For a moment, she let her mind get lost in the white-capped waves crashing into shore.

With a sigh, she turned. She needed to stop dilly-dallying and get ready. She frowned at the crimson gown draped over the bed. Tightening her towel around her body, she padded across the plush carpet of the enormous guest bedroom where she was spending the weekend. She stuck her head out the door and peered down the hall, looking for Jacklyn, the kind, quiet-spoken maid who’d made a point of staying near Lemon’s side ever since she’d stepped foot on the palatial estate. Where was the woman when she needed her?

With a heavy sigh, she stepped back into the room and closed the door. Lemon had been looking forward to this weekend for several weeks, but it wasn’t turning out like she’d hoped. The estate was incredible. Too bad she couldn’t say the same about her relationship. She’d always prided herself on being independent, but lately, she was feeling smothered. Her hand went to her hip as she studied the gown in disdain. A knock sounded at the door. “Who is it?” she called.

“It’s me, ma’am,” a timid voice replied.

She let out a breath. “Jacklyn, come in.”

The maid stepped in, a solicitous expression on her lined face. “I saw you stick your head out. Did you need something?”

“Yes, where’s my gold gown? Was there a mix-up at the dry-cleaner?” Frustration welled inside Lemon. Earlier today, she’d asked Jacklyn for an iron to press the wrinkles from her gown. Jacklyn insisted on sending it out to get dry cleaned. The banquet started in a little over an hour, and she had the wrong dress!

Jacklyn clasped her hands tightly as she wet her lips. “I picked up your gold gown from the dry-cleaner.”

“Okay, then where is it?”

She ducked her head slightly. “I’m sorry, ma’am. Mr. Livingston took your gown and told me to put this one out instead.”

A disbelieving cackle rose in Lemon’s throat. “He what?” Fire zigzagged through her brain as her voice went shrill. “This is ludicrous!”

An apologetic smile trembled over Jacklyn’s lips. “The gown is the same size as yours. I’m sure it’ll look beautiful on you.”

Lemon paced back and forth. “I can’t believe he would have the audacity to switch my gown!” They’d argued earlier because he wanted her to wear the red gown. She’d laughed lightly, insisting that she was a grown woman, perfectly capable of choosing her own clothes. It had seemed so trivial earlier, something she wouldn’t have thought about again … until now. She stopped in her tracks, glaring at Jacklyn. “I won’t wear it.” She lifted her chin.

Concern trickled over Jacklyn’s features as she glanced over her shoulder and then back at Lemon. “Please,” she urged in a low tone, “for your own sake, wear the dress.”

Alarm prickled over Lemon’s skin. “What do you mean?”

Jacklyn’s eyes darted around the