The Fantasy Factor by Kimberly Raye

“I’m more worried about you than a worthless plate.” She eyed her granddaughter as Sarah deposited the pieces into the can. “Are you all right?”
    Sarah put on her best smile for her grandmother, the way she’d been doing for the past twelve years. Oddly enough, despite the years of practice, the expression didn’t come as easily tonight as it should have. “Why wouldn’t I be all right?”
    “I don’t know. Maybe something happened that you’re not telling me about.” Grandma Willie eyed her as she rushed toward the trash can.
    “What could have possibly happened? I’ve been at the nursery all day.” Sarah dumped the pieces into the trash and turned toward the cabinet to get another plate. “Just counting inventory and watering plants and tallying the week’s sales and counting inventory and—”
    “You counted inventory twice?”
    “What?”
    “You said you counted inventory and then you said you counted inventory again.”
    “I did? Well, yes, I, um, guess I did. But the first time I came up short so I had to do it again, but then everything matched and so everything’s fine. Really. Everything is A-okay.”
    Her grandma didn’t look convinced. “You look jittery, dear.”
    Sarah’s fingers tightened around the edge of the stoneware and she willed them to stop trembling. “Do I?”
    “You look like you have a fever.”
    Boy, did she ever. Unfortunately, it had nothing to do with an illness and everything to do with a certain hot and sexy cowboy and…
    She sucked in a much needed breath. “I feel fine. Really.” She wiped at a drop of sweat that slid down her temple. “I’m just a little flushed. My fan wasn’t working at the nursery. I think the wiring’s messed up.” The lie came easily. Much too easily considering that she didn’t lie to her grandmother anymore.
    She never had to because she walked the straight and narrow. She paid her bills on time and opened the shop bright and early every morning and she went to bed at a respectable hour and she attended every chamber of commerce meeting and she helped out at the local women’s shelter every third weekend of the month and she never, ever did anything irresponsible like forgetting her dinner date with her grandmother.
    Until tonight.
    Houston Jericho had not only unlocked her nursery that morning, he’d unlocked the door to her most erotic thoughts, as well, and they were now overwhelming her, interfering with her daily life and threatening her cover and— stop!
    She closed her eyes and drew a deep, calming breath. She could do this. She could keep on going as if everything was the same as yesterday and the day before that and the day before that. Just the way she’d been doing her entire adult life.
    It was simply a matter of focus.
    She fixed her gaze on Grandma Willie and noted the woman’s concerned frown. And her trembling hands. And her tired slump. The past rushed at her as she remembered a similar look, and she rushed forward.
    “Grandma, are you okay? Your chest isn’t hurting, is it?”
    “What? My chest? Of course not.”
    “You should sit down.”
    “I feel fine.”
    “Do you want some water?”
    “I’m not thirsty.”
    “How about something to eat? I was late so you’re probably starving. Your sugar’s probably down.”
    “I took my sugar an hour ago. It’s fine. I’m fine. It’s you I’m concerned about.”
    “You should sit down, anyway. Please.”
    “But…” She started to protest, but then she seemed to think better of it. “Maybe I will sit down.”
    “Good. You just sit right here and let me get your dinner for you.” Sarah helped her grandmother settle into a chair and headed off to the kitchen, her only thought on making the old woman as comfortable as possible.
    At least that’s what she told herself, and she actually managed to believe it for the next few hours as she and her grandma shared dinner and watched a few hours of television.
    But when Sarah climbed into bed that