Natural Born Charmer

by Susan Elizabeth Phillips

  Her heartbeat kicked up. “We already talked. I don’t want to talk anymore.”

  “Too late.” The bumpy track abruptly ended at a rusted barbed wire fence bordering an overgrown pasture. He flicked off the ignition and caught her in those ocean storm eyes. “Topic number one on our agenda. April’s impending death…”

  She gulped. “Tragic.”

  He waited. His charm had disappeared, leaving behind the no-nonsense man who made his living being quicker, smarter, and tougher than everyone else. She should have seen this coming and been better prepared. “Sorry,” she said.

  “Oh, we both know you can do better than that.”

  She tried to open the door to get some air and discovered it was locked. The old sense of helplessness sent a rush of adrenaline through her, but just as her fighting instincts kicked in, the lock clicked open. She got out, and so did he. She walked away from him toward the rusty fence. “I know I shouldn’t have meddled,” she said carefully. “It was none of my business. But she looked so sad, and I’m a total head case when it comes to maternal relationships.”

  He came up behind her, caught her by the shoulders, and turned her around. His grim features locked into final countdown. “Don’t ever lie to me. If it happens again, you’re out of here. Understand?”

  “That’s not fair. I like lying to you. It makes my life easier.”

  “I mean what I say. You crossed the line.”

  She gave up. “I know. I apologize. Really.” She felt a weird urge to poke at the forbidding corners of his mouth until she’d rearranged them into the charming grin she was accustomed to. “I don’t blame you for being mad. You have every right.” She couldn’t resist asking. “When did you figure it out?”

  He released her shoulders but stayed where he was, looming over her. “About half an hour after I left the house last night.”

  “Does April know you know?”

  “Yes.”

  Blue wished April had chosen to share that information with her.

  “At least there’s one good thing about my mother…” He studied her intently. “I don’t have to worry about April emptying out my bank accounts.”

  A crow shrieked in the distance. She took a step back from him. “How do you know about that?”

  “Two can play the meddling game. Stay out of my private business, Blue, and maybe I’ll stay out of yours.”

  He must have gotten into her voice mail when she’d given him her phone. She could hardly protest, no matter how much she hated him knowing about Virginia. He finally moved away from her to survey the pasture. A covey of birds shrieked as they flew up from the long grass. “So what are you going to do about Riley?” she said.

  He whirled around. “I don’t believe you! Didn’t we just talk about your meddling?”

  “Riley’s not your private business. I’m the one who found her, remember?”

  “I’m not doing anything,” he declared. “April got hold of one of Mad Jack’s serfs a couple of hours ago. Someone’s coming to pick Riley up.”

  “Just like so much garbage.” She began walking back to the car.

  “That’s the way he works,” he said from behind her. “His responsibility stops with writing checks and hiring people to do his dirty work.”

  She turned. He hadn’t moved away from the fence. “Are you going to…talk to her?” she asked.

  “And say what? That I’m going to take care of her?” He delivered a sharp kick to the rotting post. “I can’t do that.”

  “I think it would help if you’d at least promise to stay in touch with her.”

  “She wants a lot more from me than that.” He came toward her. “Don’t give me any more trouble, okay? I’ve already bailed you out of jail and paid your traffic fine.”

  Just like that, he was on the attack again. She had to squint against the sun to return his gaze. “I’ll repay you as soon as I can.”

  “We’re bartering, remember?”

  “Remind me how that works?”

  Instead, he surveyed her critically. “Have you considered letting a professional work on your hair as opposed to a kindergartner with a set of plastic scissors?”

  “Too busy.”

  “Stop being such a hard-ass.” His hand curved around her shoulder, and he hit her with a smoky-eyed look that made her knees go weak. She knew he’d given that same look to a thousand women, but the long day had made her defenses sluggish. Their eyes locked, his as dark as the sea. She understood his danger. He had an innate sense of entitlement and an arsenal of lethal sexuality. But she still didn’t move. Not an inch.

  His head dipped, their mouths meshed, and the sounds of birds and breeze faded away. Her lips parted on their own. He touched her with his tongue. Silky threads of pleasure unwound inside her. The kiss deepened, and dazzling colors began swirling in her head. She’d turned herself over to him just like all the others. She’d been swept away.

  The knowledge chilled her. Having a nighttime fantasy about a gypsy prince was one thing, but acting on it was something else entirely. She pushed away, blinked her eyes, and came up swinging. “That was a disaster. Jeeze, I’m sorry. If I’d known the truth, I’d never have kidded you about the gay thing.”

  The corner of his mouth cocked, and his lazy eyes trickled over her as intimately as a lover’s hand. “Keep fighting, Bluebell. You’ll only make the victory sweeter.”

  She wanted to dump a bucket of cold water over her head. Instead, she gave him a dismissive wave and headed for the dirt track that led to the house. “I’m walking back. I need to be alone so I can have a long, hard talk with myself about being so insensitive.”

  “Good idea. I need to be alone so I can picture you naked.”

  She flushed and picked up her pace. Fortunately, the farm was less than a mile away. Behind her, the Vanquish roared to life. She heard him back up and turn around. Before long, the car drew up next to her, and the driver’s window slid down. “Hey, Bluebell…I forgot something.”

  “Yeah, what’s that?”

  He slipped on his sunglasses and smiled. “I forgot to thank you for defending Riley against the old lady.”

  And then he was gone.

  Riley barely touched the dinner Blue fixed that evening. “It’ll probably be Frankie who comes to get me,” she said, pushing aside a fig Blue had added to the chicken and dumplings. “He’s my dad’s favorite bodyguard.”

  April reached across the table and pressed her hand over Riley’s. “I’m sorry I had to tell them you were here.”

  Riley ducked her head. One more disappointment in her young life. Earlier, Blue had tried to distract her with an invitation to bake brownies, but that had gone sour when Dean had come in and brusquely refused Riley’s eager plea to look at her scrapbook. He thought he was doing the right thing, but Riley was his flesh and blood, and Blue wished he’d spare a small corner of his life for her. She knew what he’d say if she pressed him. He’d say Riley wanted more than a small corner, and he’d be right.

  It was just as well he’d driven off. Now she had space to get her equilibrium back and straighten out her priorities. Her life was complicated enough right now without putting herself at more of a disadvantage by becoming another of Dean Robillard’s easy conquests.

  Riley reached for the plate of brownies Blue had ended up baking alone, then stopped herself. “That woman was right,” she said softly. “I am fat.”

  April set down her fork with a clink. “People need to concentrate on what’s right about themselves. If you only think about what’s wrong, or about all the mistakes you’ve made, you get paralyzed. Are you going to fill up your head with garbage—everything you don’t like about yourself—or are you going to be proud of who you are?”

  April’s intensity made Riley’s lip tremble. “I’m only eleven,” she said in a tiny voice.

  April made a business of wadding her napkin. “That’s right. I’m sorry. I guess I was thinking about someone else.” She gave Blue an overly bright
smile. “Riley and I’ll clean up while you relax.”

  They ended up working together. April tried to distract Riley with talk of clothes and movie stars. One of Riley’s offhand remarks revealed that Marli had deliberately bought Riley’s clothes too small, hoping to shame her into losing weight. Soon after, April excused herself to go to the cottage. She tried to convince Riley to come with her until her father’s assistant arrived, but Riley was still hoping Dean would return.

  Blue set Riley up at the kitchen table with a set of watercolors. Riley studied the blank paper. “Would you draw some dogs for me so I can paint them?”

  “Wouldn’t you rather draw them yourself?”

  “I don’t think I have enough time for that.”

  Blue squeezed her arm and drew four different dogs. As Riley started to paint, Blue grabbed some clothes upstairs and took them out to the caravan. On her way back inside, she stopped in the dining room and gazed at the four blank walls. She imagined them covered with dreamy landscape murals, the kind of work her art professors had so tactfully criticized her for painting.

  “A bit derivative, don’t you think, Blue?”

  “You need to start stretching yourself. Pushing the boundaries.”

  “I’m sure an interior decorator would love what you’ve done,” her only female professor had said, more bluntly. “But sofa paintings don’t make good art. This isn’t a real statement. It’s sentimental claptrap, an insecure girl looking for a romanticized world to hide in.”

  Her words made Blue feel as though she’d been stripped naked. She’d given up her dreamy landscapes and begun producing bold mixed-media pieces using motor oil and Plexiglas, latex and broken beer bottles, hot wax and even her own hair. Her professors were delighted, but Blue knew the work was phony, and she left school at the beginning of her junior year.

  Now the blank dining room walls wanted to lure her back to those dreamy places where life was simple, where people stayed in place, where only good things happened, and where she would finally feel safe. Disgusted with herself, she went outside to sit on the porch steps and watch the sunset. Maybe painting kids’ portraits didn’t inspire her, but she was good at it, and she could have built up a respectable business in any of the cities where she’d lived. She never did, though. Sooner or later, she started feeling panicky, and she knew the time had come to move.

  The porch post felt warm against her cheek. The sun reminded her of a shimmering copper globe hanging low over the hills. She thought about Dean and their kiss. If the timing were different…If she had a job, an apartment, money in the bank…If he were more ordinary…But none of that was true, and she’d spent too many years living at the mercy of others to put herself any further under his control. As long as she resisted, she had power. If she gave in, she’d have nothing.

  The noise of an engine intruded on her thoughts. Shielding her eyes, she saw two cars approaching down the lane. Neither of them was Dean’s Vanquish.

  Chapter Eleven

  Two SUVs with tinted windows pulled up in front of the farmhouse. The back door of the lead vehicle opened, and a man dressed entirely in black stepped out.

  His shaggy dark hair was threaded with gray, his weather-beaten face creased from too many long nights riding the glory trail. As he moved away from the car, his gunslinger’s arms hung loosely at his sides ready to draw—not a six-shooter—but the blazing Fender Custom Telecaster he’d used to conquer the world. If Blue hadn’t already been sitting, her knees would have buckled. As it was, she couldn’t squeeze a single particle of air into her lungs.

  Jack Patriot.

  Car doors began to open behind him, and men in sunglasses spilled out, along with a long-haired woman carrying a designer purse and a water bottle. They stayed by the cars. His boot heels hit the brick walk, and Blue turned into every screaming fan who’d knotted her fingers through a chain-link fence, pressed her body against a police barricade, chased a stretch limo, or stood vigil outside a five-star hotel praying for a glimpse of her rock idol. Except, instead of screaming, she couldn’t make a sound.

  He stopped less than eight feet away. Small silver skulls adorned his earlobes. Beneath the cuff of his black, open-neck shirt, she saw a leather bracelet with a beaten silver sleeve. He nodded. “I’m looking for Riley.”

  Ohmygod! Jack Patriot was standing right in front of her. Jack Patriot was talking to her! She scrambled to her feet. She wheezed for air, choked on nothing, and started to cough. He waited patiently, the silver skulls turning to rust in the sunset. Her eyes began to tear. She pressed her fingers to her throat, trying to clear the air passage.

  Rock star legends understood overwrought females, and he took in the house while he waited. She balled her hand into a fist and struck her chest. He finally spoke again in the familiar smoke-and-gravel voice that still held remnants of his native North Dakota. “Could you get Riley for me?”

  As she struggled to pull herself together, the front door opened, and Riley came out. “Hi,” she muttered.

  Only his lips moved. “What’s this all about?”

  Riley gazed toward the silent entourage gathered around the SUV. “I dunno.”

  He tugged on his earlobe, the silver skull disappearing between his fingers. “Do you have any idea how worried everybody’s been?”

  Her head came up slightly. “Who?”

  “Everybody. Me.”

  She studied the toes of her sneakers. She wasn’t buying it.

  “Who else is here?” he asked, scanning the house.

  “Nobody. Dean drove away, and April went to her cottage.”

  “April…” He spoke her name as if he were conjuring up a nottoo-pleasant memory. “Get your things together. We’re leaving.”

  “I don’t want to go.”

  “I’m sorry about that,” he said flatly.

  “I left my jacket at the cottage.”

  “Go get it then.”

  “I can’t. It’s dark. I’m too scared.”

  He hesitated, then rubbed his hand over his jaw. “Where’s this cottage?”

  Riley told him about the path through the woods. He turned to Blue. “Can I drive there?”

  Yes, you sure can. Take the lane back toward the highway, but just before you get there, you’ll see a road going off to your left. It’s not much more than a track, really, and easy to overlook, so keep your eyes peeled. But none of that came out of her mouth, and he looked back at Riley, who shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess.”

  Blue had to say something. Anything. But she couldn’t adjust to having the man she’d had a crush on since she was ten years old standing in front of her. Later, she would ponder the fact that he hadn’t kissed or hugged his daughter, but for now, she focused on willing her mouth to open.

  It was too late. He’d signaled both Riley and his entourage to stay where they were and headed toward the path his daughter had pointed out. Blue waited until he disappeared, then slumped down on the top step. “I’m an idiot.”

  Riley sat down next to her. “Don’t worry. He’s used to it.”

  As dusk settled in, April finished her last phone call, slipped her cell into the beaded pocket of her jeans, and wandered down to the edge of the pond. She loved it here at night, the soothing lap of water, the throaty croak of a frog striking a bass note against a cricket chorus. The pond smelled different at night, musky and fecund, like something feral.

  “Hello, April.”

  She spun around.

  The man who’d shattered her world stood in front of her.

  It had been three decades since she’d seen him in person, but even in the dusky light, every feature in that angular, excess-lined face was as familiar as her own: the long, aquiline nose; the deep-set eyes, black at the rims but with golden brown irises; his swarthy skin and knife-blade jaw. Silver threaded the dark hair that used to fly in a midnight storm cloud around his head. It was shorter now—just above his collar—and wirier, but still thick. She wasn’t surprised he’d made no ef
fort to cover the threads of gray. He had little personal vanity. Although he’d always been tall for a rocker, now he seemed even taller because he was so thin. The sockets beneath those gaunt cheekbones were deeper than she remembered, the grooves at the corners of his eyes more sharply etched. He looked every one of his fifty-four years.

  “Hey, little girl. Is your mother around?”

  His voice was whiskey-soaked gravel. For the briefest moment, she felt the old breathlessness claim her. This man had once been her world. She’d flown across the ocean on an hour’s notice to be with him. London, Tokyo, West Berlin. It didn’t matter where. Night after night as he’d come offstage, she’d stripped the tight, sweat-soaked costume from his body, smoothed his long, damp hair with her fingers, parted her lips, parted her thighs, made him feel like a god.

  But in the end, it was only rock and roll.

  Their last face-to-face communication had taken place the day she’d told him she was pregnant. From then on, everything had been handled through an intermediary, including the blood test after Dean was born. How bitterly she’d resented Jack for that.

  She pulled herself back together. “Just me and the frogs. How have you been?”

  “My hearing’s shot, and I can’t get it up anymore. Otherwise…”

  She only believed the first part. “Lay off the booze, cigarettes, and teenagers. You’ll be amazed how good you’ll feel.” She didn’t need to mention drugs. Jack had cleaned up his act years before she’d been able to.

  A leather and silver bracelet slipped down on his wrist as he ambled forward. “No more teenagers, April. Cigarettes, either. I haven’t smoked for a couple of years. And hasn’t that been a mission from hell? As for the booze…” He shrugged.

  “I guess you geezer rockers need at least one vice.”

  “I have a few more than that. How about you?”

  “I got a speeding ticket on my way to Bible study a few months ago, but that’s about it.”

  “Bullshit. You’ve changed, but not that much.”