Copyright 2005 by Karen Leabo.  All rights reserved.  Last updated 9/18/2005

DOWNTOWN DEBUTANTE
BY KARA LENNOX

Chapter One

        Brenna Thompson drew herself deeper into the down comforter, trying to reclaim the blessed relief of sleep.  But instead of drifting back down, she awoke with a jolt and smacked into hard reality.  She was stranded in Cottonwood, Texas, without a dime to her name, her entire future hanging by a thread.

            And someone was banging on her door at the Kountry Kozy Bed & Breakfast.

            Wearing only a teddy, she slid out of bed and stumbled to the door.  "I told you to take the key," she said grumpily, opening the door, expecting to see Cindy, her new roommate.  "What time is it, any--"  She stopped as her bleary eyes struggled to focus.  Standing in the hallway was a broad-shouldered man in a dark suit, a blindingly white shirt, and a shimmering blue silk tie.  He was at least a foot taller than Brenna's own five-foot-three, and she had to strain her neck to meet his cool, blue-eyed gaze.  Another man stood behind the first, but he was in shadow--like he was trying to be in the background.

            In a purely instinctual gesture, she slammed the door in his face.  My God, she was almost naked.  A stranger in a suit had seen her almost naked.  Her whole body flushed, then broke out in goosebumps.

            The knock came again, softer this time, but firm.

            "Uh, just a minute!"  She didn't have a robe.  She wasn't a robe-wearing sort of person.  But she spied a robe belonging to Sonya, her other roommate, lying at the foot of her bed.  The white silk garment trailed the floor, the sleeves hanging almost to Brenna's fingertips--Sonya was tall--but at least it sort of covered her.

            Taking a deep breath, she opened the door again.  "Yes?"

            Still there.  Still just as tall, just as imposing, just as‑-handsome.  Not her type, she thought quickly.  But there was a certain commanding presence about this stranger that made her stomach swoop and her palms itch.

            "Brenna Thompson?"

            Deep voice.  It made all her hair follicles stand at attention.

            "Yes, that's me."  He didn't smile, and a frisson of alarm wiggled through her body.  "Is something wrong?  Oh, my God, did something happen to someone in my family?"

       He hesitated fractionally.  "No.  I'm Special Agent Heath Packer with the FBI.  This is Special Agent Pete LaJolla."

The other man stepped closer and nodded a greeting.  They both looked as if they expected to enter.

            Brenna glanced over her shoulder.  The room was a complete wreck.  Every available surface was covered with clothes and girly stuff, not to mention baby things belonging to Cindy's little boy.  Even fastidious Sonya's bed was unmade.  Sonya was used to servants doing that sort of thing for her.

            Special Agent No. 1 didn't wait for her consent.  He eased past her into the room, his observant gaze taking everything in.

            "If you'd given me some warning, I could have tidied up," she groused, pulling the robe more tightly around her.  She hadn't realized how thin the fabric was.  Any fool could see she was nearly naked underneath.  And this guy wasn't a fool.

            Then again, what did Brenna know?  Clearly she'd proved she wasn't a good judge of character.  This guy could have the I.Q. of a chimpanzee.

            Mustering her manners, Brenna cleared off a cosmetics case and a pair of shoes from the room's only chair.  "Here, sit down.  You're making me nervous.  And ... Agent LaJolla, was it?"  She brushed some clothes off Sonya's twin bed.  La Jolla nodded and sat gingerly on the bed while Brenna retreated to her own bed.  She sat cross-legged on it, drawing the covers over her legs both for warmth and modesty.

"I assume you know why we're here," Packer said, easing his tall frame into the wingback chair.  He looked even more masculine, surrounded by chintz and lace and cabbage roses.

"Something to do with Marvin Carter, I would guess.  Does this mean someone is finally taking our case seriously?  That other FBI guy in Louisiana--Del Roy or whatever his name was--he could hardly be bothered."  Indignation welled up in Brenna's chest.  "Big deal, three dumb blondes lost their life savings.  Like, who cares?"

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