Re: Studs, Texas - Book Two - New segments -- The Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman Fan Exchange

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Date Posted: 16:09:53 12/15/02 Sun
Author: dqfan
Subject: Re: Studs, Texas - Book Two - New segments
In reply to: CCCook 's message, "Re: Studs, Texas - Book Two - New segments" on 17:44:47 11/18/02 Mon

Randy was feeling incredibly optimistic as she re-arranged her latest museum display, "Carcasses of the Desert," for its opening on Monday. She loved being alone in the museum on Saturdays after its 5pm closing. It was so quiet and peaceful - just the way she liked it. It gave her time to think. Think about Nick.

There had been something about Nick at the Easter Egg Hunt. He seemed different. The anger he felt toward her seemed to have given way to resignation, and maybe, even, reconciliation? Randy's hopefulness wasn't based on anything concrete, of course. They'd barely spoken between the bunny hop and the egg roll. But there'd been something about the way Nick had approached her: that hands-in-pocket, tentative smile, and occasional shoulder shrug she'd known since they were kids. Nick Hathaway's non-verbal way of saying he'd screwed up was as recognizable to Randy as Elvis' autograph was to her father - and nearly as irresistible.

"I'm making too much of this," Randy admonished herself, re-arranging some flyers she'd had printed especially for the new exhibit. "It's only a dinner�"

"Only a dinner�" Sure. That's why tucked safely inside a garment bag in her office down the hall was her favorite black dress, the one that made her feel confident, and sexy even, the one that always seemed to make Nick's eyes sparkle a deeper shade of blue. That it also made Nick's heart beat clear out of his chest was a reality Nick had concealed quite poorly, Randy thought mischievously, considering he was an undercover cop and all.

Suddenly, her giggles were interrupted by the sound of knuckles rapping on the glass window of the front door.

"Rob," Miranda exclaimed, as she turned and saw the face that millions of women around the world swooned over daily.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, unlocking the door and letting him in.

"Just wanted to visit the museum," Rob lied with a smile, as he rubbed his hands together to ward off the cool evening chill.

"And when's the last time you were in a museum?" Randy teased, knowing full well that Rob was there to make sure she was ready for her evening with Nick.

"Last summer, if you must know," Rob answered seriously, without skipping a beat.

"Really�" Randy was momentarily impressed.

"Yup, Cleveland�August�I was inducted in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum," Rob grinned proudly as Randy rolled her eyes.

"They've got a guitar there dates back to 1952� Oh, you oughta see it, Rand, it's a relic," he laughed, ducking from Miranda's imaginary left hook.

"Rob, it's very sweet of you to play mother hen and all," Randy smiled, touched.

"Hey, I said I came to see the museum!" Rob glared, fairly certain that no self-respecting mother hen would be wearing the Italian leather pants he happened to have on right now.

"Now, if while I'm here, I happen to notice that the curator is covered in dust," Rob scowled, surveying Miranda's sorry appearance.

"It's finely granulated sand and assorted desert fauna!" Strenuously, Randy defended the materials she'd been using to decorate her display.

"Whatever�" Rob cut her off, still smarting from that mother hen remark.

"If that's what you want to wear for your dinner with Nicky," he goaded her, feigning disinterest.

Casually, Rob began to wander the museum, choosing one of Miranda's flyers for a little light reading.

"I'll have you know that I have a low-cut black dress hanging in the closet in the very next room," Randy huffed indignantly.

"You oughta say that in the brochure," Rob chuckled. "Why don't you go put it on?"

Randy knew when she'd met her sparring match. Rob was in rare form tonight. Plus, it was getting late, and she didn't want to rush, but there was still so much to clean up, and...

"I need to sweep and lock the door�" she excused feebly, reaching for the broom.

Eagerly, Rob snatched it from her hand, barely missing a rare Aztec vase in the process. Randy cringed and grabbed the broom back instantly.

Undeterred by his close call, Rob promised cheerfully, "I will lock the door, I will sweep the floor, I will�" Valiantly, he searched for one final grand gesture.

Staring into Miranda's newest display case, Rob recognized the remains of one small Texas creature.

"I will guard THAT armadillo with my life!" he vowed triumphantly.

With a shake of her head and a broad smile, Randy deposited the broom ceremoniously into Rob's hands and went into her office to change without a single word of protest.

Defiantly, Rob eyed the tiny armadillo shell, just daring it to cause any trouble. Looking about the room, he surveyed all the display cases, filled with even larger, more ominous, pre-historic beasts from across the ages. Rob felt a strange surge of power. He controlled them - he alone. He was a tamer of lions�a man of strength�of might�of courage�.

Slowly and carefully, Rob began to sweep - and mutter.

"Mother hen�."

^^^^^^^^^^

"Well?" Randy appeared in the doorway and waited for Rob's reaction.

Turning suddenly from the armadillo case, Rob reeled from the sight of Randy, positively dazzling in her little black dress.

"Whew�" With a lecherous grin, Rob whistled to the armadillo. "You are one damn lucky fossil, Fred�"

"Fred?" Randy raised an eyebrow in amusement at the nickname.

"Seemed to fit�" Rob winked with a shrug. "Kinda like that dress�"

"You think Nick will like it?" Randy twirled, laughing.

"If he doesn't, he's deader than Fred," Rob muttered in admiration.

"So, may I escort you to your car, m'lady?" Gallantly, Rob extended his arm.

"Why, thank you, Mr. Lawson," Randy drawled, accepting his offer with a smile.

"See ya 'round, Fred�" Cheerfully, Rob bid goodbye to his new friend as Randy turned out the lights and locked up the museum for the night.

^^^^^^^^^^

"It's set, Sir�" the brawny henchman entered Frank Aurora's darkened sitting room experiencing his usual mix of nervous excitement and wary self-preservation - feelings that seemed to overtake him every time he reported to his boss.

Frank was seated in a chair by the window but the shades were drawn. Only a tiny crack of artificial light flickered in, courtesy of the Texaroo Ranch's flashing neon sign.

At first, there was no reaction from Frank to the news. He didn't turn, he didn't rise from the chair�he merely poured himself another glass of scotch and raised it slowly to his lips.

The henchman gulped without realizing it. Desperately, he imagined the alcohol from Frank's glass pouring into his own bloodstream. Sip after sip, and still Frank said nothing. For God's sake, a bullet to the heart would be easier than this!

Finally, unable to bear the waiting, and deciding that, perhaps, Mr. Aurora would prefer to be left alone, the henchman took a single tentative step toward the door.

"Are you sure?" Frank's words cut through the silence in the room like a knife and, instantly, the henchman froze.

"Uh�yes�yessir�Mr. Aurora�sir�" the poor fellow stuttered. "The only publicity you'll be reading about him tomorrow'll be his obituary."

Again, there was that awful silence, followed by only one word.

"Good�" Frank said softly, setting his glass on the side table and rising slowly.

The henchman took his first real breath since entering the room, a shaky smile crossing his face. Frank Aurora was pleased. He was coming to congratulate him on a job well done. There'd be money�maybe a promotion�or even a week at Frank's vacation home in the Bahamas�Frank Aurora was a man who could make wishes come true.

And, like all loyal henchmen, Tony Drago, got his wish�

A bullet to the heart.

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