Talk of the Town by Karen Hawkins will be hitting the stores on November 18, 2008. And there is a delightful story that goes along with how this book came about – one I forgot to get permission to tell. Really it will be MUCH better coming from Karen herself. So I will have to talk her into coming on and sharing. Or you know… find a link to it ;).  The cover is too cute but I don’t have it in color.  I really do hate to see historical authors go contemp but I think Karen Hawkins is going to be FABULOUS at it.  Laura J you will so want Talk of the Town, so you really better hope I get two copies or you are so SOL ;).

Have a peek at Karen Hawkins first contemporary…

TALK OF THE TOWN

With the exception of one wild night in high school with handsome bad boy Nick Sheppard, Roxanne Parker has never walked on the wild side. Nothing-not even sexy, dark, dangerous, heart-stopping Nick-could come between her and her dream of marrying well. But after dropping out of college for a fairytale wedding to handsome, wealthy, Brian Parker, Roxie discovers her husband in bed with a six-foot-four blonde: Larry, his law partner, in drag. Then her mother becomes ill, and Roxie rushes home to help.

Nick Shepherd moved from the small North Carolina town to the big city right after high school. Now, after a divorce and a blemish in his police file, he’s returned to his hometown as sheriff. For the first time in his life, Nick begins to find peace with who he is and why-until newly divorced Roxie roars into town in her red Mustang. Can the town’s former sweetheart and the boy from the wrong side of the tracks make it work this time?

Chapter 4

“Thank God you was near, Officer!” Tundy batted her eyes at Nick as he bent over Mother’s prone form and took her pulse.

Roxie stood at the foot of the bed, the cordless phone still in hand from where she’d called 911 after mother’s collapse.

Nick released Mother’s wrist. “Her pulse is normal. I think she just fainted.”

Roxie studied her mother. Her eyes were closed, her hands crossed over her chest, though her color seemed good and she was breathing with reassuring regularity. Even sick, Mother managed to ‘dress.’ She never allowed so much as a hair out of place and prided herself on always looking like ‘a lady.’ Even her choice of nightwear, which consisted of layers and layers of gauzy material, did a silent homage to every Audrey Hepburn movie made.

Tundy tsked loudly. “I didn’t know people still swooned in this day and age.”

“Or could scream that loud.” Mark sat in an overstuffed chair by the window and watched Mother as if she was a strange species on display at a zoo. “Scarlet O’Hara rides again. Whoever gave her that book when she was a child should be shot.”

Roxie sent her brother a harried look. It was bad enough that Nick had to see her mother in such a state; there was no excuse to air the family laundry, too.

She stole a look at their rescuer and then wished she hadn’t. Nick’s gray eyes were dark, his police hat cocked at a rakish angle on his dark hair. Though his manner was cool and professional, she couldn’t help but wistfully note the way his neat uniform hugged his hips and clung to his broad shoulders. No amount of uniform could disguise his faintly bad boy air. In fact, now that she thought about it, he could easily pass for a faux cop stripper.

She just wished he didn’t wear it so well. To shake off the unwelcome thoughts, she asked, “Isn’t an ambulance coming?”

Mother’s eyes flickered, but she didn’t open them. Hm. That is odd.

“They’re on their way,” Nick said. “I just happened to be closer.”

Tundy leaned over Mother from the other side of the bed. “Personally, I think she’s playin’ possum. Ain’t never seen a real sick person as held their hands on their chest as if they was dying on a stage.”

Instantly, Mother’s hands relaxed, one sliding to her side.

Roxie’s gaze narrowed. Surely Mother wasn’t pretending. That was too much, even for her.

Wasn’t it?

Nick’s gray gaze narrowed. “Mark, could you fetch a pitcher of water? Ice water?”

Mark grinned and jumped to his feet. “Sure! I’ll be right back.” He looked at Mother and added loudly, “I’ll bring a big pitcher with a lot of ice, too.”

Roxie noted that Mother’s lips were now pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t move otherwise. Darn it, Mother! What are you trying to do now?

Mark ran downstairs and they could hear the freezer door opening and closing. Roxie crossed her arms. “Nick, what are you going to do with that ice water?”

He grinned, looking devastatingly sexy as he leaned against the post of the elaborate bed, one hand resting on his hip. “I’m going to throw the ice water on your mother, of course.”

“That will revive her?”

“Like nothing else. It’s just a pity it’ll mess her hair.”

Mother’s lips were white; she had them pressed so together so tightly.

Despite herself, Roxie grinned. It would serve Mother right for being such a ham.

Tundy blinked. “Ice water? Can’t you put one of them defibrillator paddles on her chest and ZAP!” She pretended to flop around. “I saw one of those on ER. That’d revive her!”

Roxie grinned. She’d never regretted watching Oprah with Tundy every time she came over to clean. Most women in the Royal Parks exclusive golf club community weren’t on a friendly basis with the hired help, but Roxie had liked Tundy’s fresh funny ways.

“The zapper is next,” Nick said and then smiled when Mother’s brows snapped to the center. “First, we’ll try the ice water.”

Tundy looked at him admiringly. “Did they teach you that ice water trick in one of them cop emergency training classes?”

“Actually, no. I saw it in a movie.”

“Three Stooges, no doubt,” Roxie murmured.

Tundy didn’t hear her, but Nick’s grin widened. “It’s standard procedure in a case like this.” His gaze locked with hers and he added softly, “Trust me, Treymayne.”

It was what he’d called her in high school. Suddenly, Roxie’s skin tingled hot and prickly, her mind flickering with the image Nick’s muscled body beneath hers in the backseat of his car, of awkward elbows and frantic passion, of an urgency so bittersweet it had threatened to burn her alive and make her forget everything.

Even now, her body hummed with awareness just because he was in the room.

Mark thundered back up the stairs, a pitcher of ice water in his hand, a wet spot on the front of his shirt. “I spilled a little, but here it is—“

Mother moaned loudly, moving her head from side to side. “Roxanne,” she said weakly. “Where is Roxanne?”

Mark’s face fell. He looked at the pitcher with evident regret.

“Save it,” Nick suggested. “You can always use it later.” He moved from the bed and began to repack his emergency kit.

Roxie walked to the far side of the bed, as far away from Nick as she could, and took Mother’s hand. “Mother, I’m here.”

Mother’s eyes fluttered open. “What happened?”

“You fainted.”

“Did I? I seem to remember – oh yes, I was saying hello to Mark and you when—“ Her gaze fixed on Roxie, then her hair. Mother closed her eyes as if in pain. “Ohhhh!”

“She’s fainting again! Give me that pitcher!” Tundy reached for the pitcher in Mark’s grasp.

Mother’s eyes snapped open and she glared at Tundy. “Who,” are you?”

Tundy set the pitcher on the nightstand, wiped her hand on her sweatpants, and then grabbed Mother’s hand and pumped it in a friendly shake. “My name’s Tundy. I suppose you don’t remember my face, as you didn’t ever look directly at me when we happened to cross paths before, but I’m Miz Roxie’s maid.”

Mother pulled her hand free, staring at Tundy as if she was an apparition.

Unphased, Tundy grinned. “You can call me Tundy. Only time I ever fainted, I was pregnant.” She leaned forward and sniffed. “You carrying?”

“Tundy!” Roxie said in a choked voice.

Nick’s choked laughter filled the room, followed by Mark’s.

Mother tilted her chin to a pugnacious angle. “I am not pregnant!” She reached for Roxie’s hand and held it between both of her. “Roxanne, please! I’ve been ill and I don’t want a stranger in my room!” Her gaze found Nick where he stood at the foot of her bed and her pained expression grew stronger. “Or a policeman.”

She said ‘policeman’ as if the word might bite her back.

Tundy blinked. “Stranger? Why, when you stayed with Miz Roxie afore, I washed yo’ underwear!”

Mark made a noise that sounded like a cross between laughter and choking.

Roxie hoped Nick was enjoying the show. Her family was dysfunctional. She knew it as did pretty much anyone else who came in contact with Mother. Usually, Roxie sympathized when faced with Mother’s dramatics, but this time she had to fight off a strong sense of impatience. Thanks to Brian, Roxie’s Bullshit Meter was now working overtime.

Roxie gently disengaged her hand from her mother’s. “Mother, Tundy has come to watch over you.”

“Over me?”

“Yes. Doc Wilson said he couldn’t find any more nursing assistants for you.”

Mother sniffed. “I don’t need anyone now that you’re here.”

“That’s too bad.” Mark rubbed his chin. “There’s not another woman in all of Paradise who has a maid of her own.”

“That’s true,” Roxie said quickly. “Tundy’s an amazing cook, too. I was lucky to even bring her. All of the women from Country Club Estates have tried to steal her away.”

Mother regarded Tundy up and down. ”Really?”

Tundy chuckled. “As if I’d work for those prissy stuck-up tennis-addicted freaks! Why, that Miz Silvers, the doctor’s wife, has enough silicone in her body to caulk up every leak in yo’ attic. And Judge Turner’s wife’s done wrecked three BMWs and a Lexus on account of her martini hour lasting for most of the day. She offered to double my salary right there in Miz Roxie’s kitchen, too.”

Roxie frowned. “When did that happen?”

“About six months ago, before Mr. Parker decided he was—”

“Right,” Roxie said hastily, sending Tundy a warning look. “I remember that dinner party.” She didn’t, of course. There had been so many.

Mother sighed weakly. “I don’t want a maid; I just want Roxanne.” She grasped Roxie’s hand even more tightly this time. “I don’t need anyone else.”

Roxie looked down at Mother’s hand where it clung to hers. Mother should have been an actress. Well, more than one person could play this game. “Mother, you’re right.”

Mark scowled while Mother beamed.

Roxie shrugged. “Mark and I will stay with you while Tundy takes on your charity work.”

Mother’s smile sputtered to a halt. “Tundy . . . my charity work?” She looked at Tundy, taking in the velour pink sweat suit and red, red curls. Tundy grinned, her teeth still pink from the pork rinds.

Mother straightened. “Tundy most certainly will not do my charity work!”

“Then perhaps someone at the Lady’s Auxiliary could help. Doesn’t Dot Weaver—“

“That woman is a vile, vindictive, hard-hearted–do you know she tried to unseat me from my position as Chair of the Garden Club? She called for a special election saying I had misused funds for buying teacakes without a vote! I was never more furious in my life.”

“Not Dot Weaver then. How about Brenda Sullins? She could—“

“No, she could not. While Brenda is a sweet soul, she couldn’t plan an ice party in the dead of winter. She was in charge of last year’s Cake Bazaar and I can’t recall a bigger mess in my life. There weren’t enough tables, none of the judges showed up on time, she forgot to order ribbons – Just forget it! She won’t do at all.”

Roxie lifted her brows.

Mother sent her a hard glance and then sighed. “Oh, very well. Tundy can stay with me while you and Mark—“

Mark sat straight up. “Hey, wait a minute—“

“—and Mark,” Mother repeated, “attend to my volunteer duties. I’ll make up a list.”

“Thanks,” Mark said, sending Roxie an exasperated look.

“That’ll work perfectly,” Roxie said.

Nick, who’d quietly watched the drama, now turned toward the window where the faint wail of a siren could be heard. “The ambulance’s close.” He collected his things and headed for the door. “I’ll send them up to make sure Mrs. Treymayne has completely recovered from her attack.”

Roxie glanced at Mother, waiting for a ‘Thank you’, but Mother’s lips were pressed into a straight line, her gaze fixed on a distant point just beyond Nick.

Roxie was embarrassed, but Nick didn’t seem surprised. He tipped his hat to Tundy, nodded to Mark, exchanged one, quiet look with Roxie, and then walked out the door.

“Mother!” Roxie said. “You should have thanked Officer Sheppard.”

Mother sniffed. “He just did what he is paid to do.”

Roxie spun on one heel and marched to the door.

“Roxanne! Where are you going?”

“To tell Nick you’re thankful, whether you are or not!” Roxie was out the door and down the steps, thudding her feet loudly so she wouldn’t hear Mother’s reply.

She found Nick beside his car, loading his kit into the trunk, the ambulance wail very close. He closed the trunk lid and caught sight of her on the sidewalk.

Roxie took a deep breath. “Nick, I wanted to—“

Siren blaring, the ambulance wheeled into sight and turned into the drive, lights flashing. The siren flipped off and a man and a woman jumped from the vehicle, rushed to the side panels where they pulled out several boxes of equipment and then made their way to the porch.

Nick gave them a brief report of what had occurred and Roxie was again struck with the differences between this Nick and the old one. The EMTs thanked Nick and entered the house, Tundy meeting them on the porch.

As soon as they were inside, Roxie turned back to Nick. “As I was saying, Mother meant to tell you ‘thank you.’”

He eyed her for a long moment. “No, she didn’t.”

“Well, she would have, if she wasn’t so upset at us foisting Tundy on her.”

“Tundy or no Tundy, your mother dislikes me. She always has.”

“She thought you were trouble.”

“I was sixteen years ago. I was headed for jail and she knew it. Everyone knew it.” His silvered gaze raked across her and she felt it as if it had been a touch. “Even you knew it.”

She had, too. It was one of things that had attracted her to him from the beginning – his disregard for all of the proprieties that weighed her down. Things were different now, though. Now, she was no longer weighed down by anything. She was free and . . . well, she didn’t know what else she was, but she was determined to find out.

She closed the gap between them and brushed a finger over the badge he wore clipped to one pocket. “You don’t look like you’re such a bad guy now.”

“I’m not. Now I’m the law and I don’t ‘do’ trouble any more.” His gaze flickered over her, and to her surprise, a touch of regret in his expression. Before she could say anything, he turned and walked to his car. “I’d better get back to the office. I hope your mother is better soon.”

He opened the car door and tossed his hat to the passenger seat. Just like that, he was leaving.

Darn it, this wasn’t the way things are supposed to go! I’m taking chances, being bolder. Maybe . . . maybe I haven’t been bold enough. Roxie stepped forward, moving until she was even with him. “Nick.”

He paused, one hand on the door, his gray eyes shadowed. “Yes?”

Her mind raced. “Do you, ah, do you think you could leave the defibrillator with me? In case we run out of ice water?”

Nick’s look of surprise dissolved into a deep laugh. His eyes crinkled, and his smile grabbed at her heart and sent it beating wildly. She’d always loved his laugh. Loved it as a girl and loved it now, as a grown up wild woman.

And she was wild, wasn’t she? That was her new theme, her new lease on life. What am I waiting for? I don’t have rules any more. I don’t have to worry about propriety or reputation. All I have to worry about is being happy and feeling good and I know exactly what would feel good right now.

Without another thought, Roxie stepped forward, threw an arm around Nick’s neck and pulled him into a kiss.

The second their lips touched, the low heat that had simmered between them roared to life. Suddenly the new Nick wasn’t any different from the old one, he was hot and ardent, possessive and wildly sensual. He delved into the kiss, holding her so that she could feel his excitement and passion.

She raked a hand through his hair and held him closer, savoring every splendid second. The kiss deepened and Nick’s hands slid down to her ass. He cupped her to him, sending tremors of pleasure through her.

The sound of a door slamming in the distance brought Nick to his senses. For a moment, he couldn’t believe what he was doing. Damn it, he was on duty! What the hell was wrong with him? One touch from Roxanne Treymayne and he was back to being nineteen and crazed for her, the world be damned.

He released her and step back, his breath harsh, his body aching from the unfinished embrace.

Roxie allowed her hands to drop from his shirt and she shivered. “Wow.”

“Yeah, wow.” He couldn’t stop looking at her mouth. Soft and slightly pink, it begged to be tasted again.

She smiled, her cheeks flushed. “Just like old times.”

She couldn’t have said anything to restore his equilibrium faster. It was like old times, he told himself. He’d been playing with fire then, and he’d be playing with fire now.

Now, she grinned at him mischievously. “This time, though, you’re not the wild child. Now, it’s me.” As if to prove this, she reached forward and slowly ran a hand down his shirtfront to his belt.

Just as her fingers reached it, he let out his breath and grabbed her by the wrist. “No,” he said grimly. “Roxie, I have to go.”

Her blue eyes widened, surprise evident. “Now?”

He slowly released her arm. “I have to get back to the office.”

“Can’t you just take off for an hour or so? We could catch up on old times.”

“Roxie, we’re not in high school any more. I have responsibilities now.”

“So what? That doesn’t mean you can’t kiss a woman now and then.”

“It’s more than that; I can’t kiss you.”

“Why not?” she asked indignantly. “I’m no longer married.”

“I know,” he said grimly. The real problem had to do with Nick’s ability to maintain his control, to make cool-headed and well-thought-out decisions. And it had everything to do with the way Roxie’s breasts pressed against her shirt and how her navel ring winking wickedly at him from the gap above her low cut shorts.

There was only one thing he could do. Nick turned and climbed into the car, slammed the door closed, and hit the key. The engine roared to life. He didn’t dare look at her even one more time. “Good bye, Treymayne. Tell your brother I’ll look him up sometime.”

With that, he left, leaving Roxie standing in the driveway, her gaze ice-cold, her lips still swollen from his kisses.

She’d been right about one thing; it was exactly like old times, only this time, he was the one doing the running.

********

Upstairs, as the EMC workers repacked their kits after checking on Mother, Mark watched his sister spin on her heel and march into the house. That’s interesting.

Truth be told, he’d never expected Roxie and Brian would divorce, though he couldn’t think of better news. It’d have been crass to say as much to Roxie so soon after her travails. She needed to decide what Brian was and was not, which she would do all by herself.

He thought of all the people who’d tried to cheer him up during his own divorce by telling him how much they hated Arlene, pointing out all of her flaws and imperfections as if they were doing him a favor. None of it had helped.

And there was no help for Roxie, either. She’d have to find her own path to peace although . . . he glanced down road where Nick’s car had disappeared. Mark only hoped Roxie didn’t cause herself more pain on the way.

The EMTs finished up and Mark reluctantly left the window to thank them for their assistance. He escorted them to the door where Tundy took them downstairs, talking loudly about the kosher diet and how she needed to buy a cookbook.

Mark turned back to Mother’s bedroom, glancing impatiently around. The entire thing was done in white. Not cream white or off white, but blindingly pure white, and straight off the set of some very poorly done Southern movie. The canopied bed, sheets, down comforter, dust ruffle, curtains, carpet, dresser and bookshelves were all ruffled and white. The room was even accessorized in white – candles, picture frames, pillows piled on the bed. Only a few books, some landscape picture books (though replete with white, fluffy clouds), and Mother’s face splashed any color in the room.

Mark looked at his mother now. “I hope you’re happy.”

She avoided his gaze and instead picked up a mirror and a tube of lipstick from her nightstand. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” With a few practiced swipes, she applied the lipstick.

“You should be spanked for causing such a scene and just because of Roxie’s new look.”

Mother replaced the lipstick tube on the nightstand and picked up a compact. “I didn’t cause a scene. I fainted. I’ve been very weak and I was shocked when—“

“You wanted us to feel badly for you, so you staged that whole thing. I bet you saw Roxie when we were in the driveway and you plotted all of this out while we were talking to the doc.”

Twin spots of color stained Mother’s cheeks. “I didn’t do any such thing.”

“I bet.”

“Not that it matters. Poor Roxie! I’m surprised Brian let her ruin her hair. He’s always been good to curb her impulsive nature.”

Mark shoved his hands into his pockets. “Mother, leave Roxie alone. She doesn’t need your ‘help.’ You need hers.”

“I can’t just stop worrying about my own daughter! I’ll call Teresa at the Stuff ‘n Fluff and get Roxie an appointment. I’m sure it can be fixed.”

“You aren’t going to do any such thing,” Mark said levelly.

Mother stiffened. “Her hair is a mess.”

“It’s the way she wants it and the way she should keep it. If she decides to change her hair, her clothes, or her life it should be her own choice and not yours.” He started to say more, but then realized from the stubborn tilt of Mother’s chin that he was just wasting his time.

He headed for the door. “I’m not going to argue, Mother. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should see about getting unpacked. There are two rooms on this level. Roxie and Tundy can take those. I’ll take my old room downstairs.”

“The one as far away from me as possible,” Mother said waspishly. “Some things never change.”

He stopped at the door and looked back at her. “No,” he said slowly. “Some things never change. Even when they should.”

Mother frowned. “You’ve always been a difficult child! Roxie never tried my patience the way you do.”

“She never said no to you before but—“ He smiled slowly. “–I have the feeling that’s about to change.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing. Mother, make a list of what needs done for your charity work. Roxie and I will start tomorrow.”

Mother pulled open the drawer of the nightstand beside her bed and removed a small notepad. She wrote for a moment and then ripped off the top sheet. “These are my weekly obligations.”

Mark crossed to the bed and took the list. He whistled silently. “Good God! You’re never home.”

“Why should I be? No one is here.” Mother clamped her lips together and she dropped her head back against the pillows. “I’m alone almost every day, though I don’t suppose you care.”

Mark noticed a faint sheen of perspiration on her upper lip and for a moment, she looked every one of her sixty-two years. He glanced down at her hands. They were every bit as colorless as the white comforter they rested on, the nails perfectly pared, the skin wrinkled and sagging.

She was not the iron maiden he always thought her. She was flesh and blood and, right now, though she did not wish anyone to know it, she was weak as a kitten. Somewhere in the region of his heart, a ripple of something beat against his chest and softened the rock that pumped his blood.

Mark reached over and patted her hand. “I’m sorry, Mother. You do a lot for this town. Roxie and I will be glad to do your volunteer work while we’re here.”

Mother gave him an uncertain smile. “Thank you. I will get Roxie’s hair appointment right away, too, before she goes about representing us. What was she thinking? Must be a new fashion in Raleigh.”

Her lips pressed into a straight line. “I never wanted her and Brian to move there. He could have set up practice here and done quite well. I always thought he knew that, but then—” She waved an empty hand in the air.

“You didn’t count on that when you pushed Roxie into his arms, did you?”

Mother blinked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Brian and Roxanne love each other.”

“Yeah. Right.” He lifted the list and waved it. “Roxie and I will get to work first thing tomorrow morning. Meanwhile, you get some sleep.” He returned to the door. “Doc will hang us all if you don’t rest.”

“Mark?”

He paused and looked back.

Anger and something else fought for expression in Mother’s gaze. Finally, she sighed, her shoulders slumped as, looking as fragile as a bent butterfly wing, her eyes filled with tears. “Thank you,” she choked out.

“You’re welcome.” Surprised, Mark managed a smile. “Go to sleep, Mother. We’re right here if you need us.”

He softly closed the door, then stood leaning against it. In the last 24 hours, the world had turned topsy-turvy. His too-perfect, too-prim, too-shy little sister had turned into a blond bombshell intent on seducing the town sheriff while his iron maiden, heart-of-stone mother had been reduced to a white-haired, weeping mass of uncertainty.

God, but he needed a drink.