LITMIR.BIZ

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window. She was wearing a red shirt tied at the waist, and, even at this distance, he could tell she was a very healthy girl. To his surprise, she held a sign to the window that read Free Meal to Travelers in bold red, glittery letters.

      Beside him Katy floated along, oblivious to the exchange. To be polite—because he’d only heard one side of the story, after all—he tipped his straw western hat to the blonde and then shook his head in the negative.

      Fair was fair, and no matter how bright the invitation across the way—even if they served steak and mashed potatoes—he was going to be a man Katy could trust.

      Chapter Two

      “So what exactly was the big problem?” Hannah Hotchkiss asked as she walked into Katy’s bedroom.

      “Problem?” Katy asked, eyeing her best friend and companion stylist warily.

      “The one Laredo mentioned. By the time the two of you returned from your walk, you had a yes out of him, and he was wearing a distinctly cattywhumpussed expression.”

      “A minor detail,” Katy murmured. “Nothing that was truly a problem.” She wasn’t about to share the worrisome detail that their knight in shining armor lacked experience in the saddle.

      “I think you’ve caught that man’s eye.”

      Katy glanced up, horrified. “Do not say that. He is not my type at all.”

      “What is your type?”

      Stanley came to mind, but Katy tossed that thought violently out of her brain. “I haven’t figured it out yet. But I’m certain I’ll know it when I see it.” She blew her bangs away from her forehead. “These bangs will not grow fast enough to suit me.”

      “Why are you letting them grow out? They suit your face and showcase your eyes.”

      “I look like a little girl. I don’t want to look like that anymore.” She handed a picture to her friend of a model dressed like a ballerina, her hair pulled away from her face in a severe topknot. “That’s the way I want to look.”

      “Like you haven’t had a good meal in a month?”

      Katy snatched the paper back. “Elegant. Sophisticated.”

      “Like you don’t give a damn.”

      “Exactly.” Katy nodded. “I don’t.”

      “Now you just have to convince yourself.”

      “Right.”

      “What a bozo that Stanley must have been.” Hannah sighed and got to her feet. “Listen, pulling your hair back until you look like a scarecrow isn’t going to give you the mature edge you’re looking for.”

      “You have a suggestion for maturing a permanent baby face?”

      “No. The baby face is not the problem—and, by the way, it’s called a cute face. There’s nothing baby about you. Your challenge is to become more daring. Daring. Remember that word.”

      Katy raised a brow.

      “You’re masking your real worry by making it a hair issue, something all women do, and sometimes men, as well. The key is to face the issue dead-on, and pin it on the body part where it actually belongs. It’s never a hair issue. Could be the brain, could be the breasts, could be your—”

      “I don’t need a body catalogue,” Katy interrupted.

      “So, where’s your real issue?”

      “My heart.”

      “Not possible. Choosing the heart is a stall tactic. It means you’re still transposing and referring your denial. The heart is not part of the equation, as it is only a label for people’s emotions. A visual, if you will.”

      “I don’t know if I will or not.” Katy groaned, unwilling to go down the path. “My womanhood,” she finally said. “If I’d been more of a woman, even Becky couldn’t have gotten Stanley away from me.”

      “That’s a myth, you know. Women successfully steal men all the time. It doesn’t take much effort.”

      “I will never believe that. There are a few men out there who have antitheft devices on their hearts.”

      “Yes, but we’re not talking about their hearts, and I have it on good authority that antitheft devices do not fit on a man’s p—”

      “All right!” Katy interrupted. “So any man is ripe for the picking. Then what’s the point of me trying to overcome my issue if their issue is unsolvable?”

      “Because once you develop more confidence, your chance of a man ever straying from you is dramatically diminished. You put a certain amount of color on a lady’s hair to diminish her gray, don’t you?”

      “Yes,” Katy said uncertainly.

      “Well, you have to wear confidence to attract and keep someone you love. Become a bright, new color. Remember our new word—daring.”

      “Lack of confidence was not why Stanley married Becky.”

      “He did that because he was already at the church, the guests had flown in, his mother was wearing Bob Mackie, and you, my sweet gullible angel, had footed the bill as the bride. Plus, he still had a smile on his face from what had occurred in the bridal changing room. Strategically, if he couldn’t wait another five minutes or so to enjoy your virginity, I’m thinking he didn’t have much staying power for the long haul. Not that I’m judging him, exactly, since I have never met him. However, sometimes actions speak louder than words, and I sincerely believe your wedding day was one of those loud action moments.” Hannah examined her nails casually. “By the way, you are going to send his parents a bill for the wedding.”

      Katy gasped. “Maybe Stanley and Becky, but not his parents!”

      “No way. His parents are filthy rich and worried about impressions. You got the shaft and they’ll be anxious to make certain you don’t pay for their son’s cruel indiscretion, lest you tell someone important like…Dear Abby. Oprah, even. The whole matter sounds very Jerry Springer to me. That’ll hit Stanley’s parents where they panic, and they’ll certainly cough up what you’re owed.”

      Katy flushed, hating the humiliation she’d suffered that day. “I want to keep it quiet. Forget about it. Move on.”

      “You are not as confident as you could be, Katy,” Hannah said softly. “And under the circumstances, I understand. But by the time I’m finished with you, confidence will radiate from you!”

      She wondered what Laredo saw radiating from her. Messy ponytail and no lipstick—probably all he saw was a dull aura. “Okay, do your darnedest. I guess.”

      Hannah lifted Katy’s ponytail and ran it through her hand; Katy could practically hear her friend’s creative brain whirring away.

      Sighing, she reminded herself that she’d come to work at the Lonely Hearts Salon for just this reason. She needed the emotional support of women to help her get over her deepest fear: that she was sexually dysfunctional. Truth was, it hadn’t been all that hard to keep her virginity. She had never felt a point-of-no-return reason to surrender it. But her best friend was talking about men as if they were as easy to pick as a dessert from a menu, and for Katy that would never be the case. It would take a kind and gentle man eons to teach her any differently. “I’m like Rapunzel. Locked in my own ivory tower.”

      “I think you should experiment on Laredo Jefferson, Katy. I believe romancing that man could knock a few bricks out of your tower. Rattle the foundation a bit.”

      Katy shook her head. “The last person who could ever save me from myself would be the freewheeling Laredo Jefferson. I’ve been to his home at the Malfunction Junction Ranch, and his family is wild and woolly. Fun, but too much for a girl like me.” She shrugged. “Anyway, someone once told me that an ivory tower

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