Natural Born Charmer

by Susan Elizabeth Phillips

  His hands fell from his hips. His eyes were bleak. “It just gets better and better, doesn’t it?”

  “There’s nothing like a little drama to get your adrenaline pumping.” She resisted the urge to put her arm around him again. “Jack told Riley he’d stay for a week,” she said softly. “But he’s taking her to Nashville for the weekend. We’ll see if he comes back.”

  His face contorted. “How did this fucking happen? All these years I’ve kept him away from me, and now, in a few seconds, I blow the whole thing.”

  “I thought you were wonderful,” she said. “And this is coming from someone who loves to find fault with you.”

  She couldn’t eke out even the trace of a smile. He kicked the rusted fender. “You think I did Riley a favor in there?”

  “I do. You stood up for her.”

  “I’ve only caused her more trouble. Jack doesn’t care about anything but his career, and all I did for Riley was set her up for another letdown.”

  “She’s spent a lot more time with him than you, so she probably knows him fairly well. I doubt her expectations are very high.”

  He snatched up a piece of rotted wood and hurled it into the truck bed. “The son of a bitch had better stay out of sight. I don’t want any link between us.”

  “I’m sure the last thing he’ll do is advertise his presence.” She hesitated, trying to figure out how to put this, but Dean was already there.

  “Don’t say it. Do you think I haven’t figured out I’m the real reason she wants to stay here? She gave up on Jack long ago. I should have driven away the minute I saw April come out that front door.”

  Blue didn’t want him revisiting the part she’d played in keeping him here. She picked at a fleck of rust. “Let’s look on the positive side.”

  “Oh, all right. Let’s hurry up and do that.”

  “This is the first time you’ve had your mother and father together. That’s monumental.”

  “You’re not thinking there’s going to be some grand reconciliation, are you?”

  “No. But maybe you can lay a few ghosts to rest. The brutal truth is, they’re your family, for better or worse.”

  “You’re so wrong.” He began gathering up some of the junk that had fallen in the woods and tossing it into a pile. “The team is my family. It’s been that way ever since I started playing ball. If I pick up the phone and say the word, I know a dozen guys who’ll hop on a plane, no questions asked. How many people can say that of their relatives?”

  “You won’t be playing football forever. What happens then?”

  “It won’t matter. They’ll still be there.” He kicked at the axle of the truck. “Besides, I’ve got a lot of time left.”

  Not so much, she thought. In football years, Dean was on his way to becoming a senior citizen.

  A dog began barking, a high-pitched yipping sound. She glanced over her shoulder in time to see a filthy white fur ball scamper out of the weeds. The critter stopped in its tracks as it saw them. Its tiny ears drew back and its yipping grew more ferocious. Matted hair hung over the dog’s small face, and briars clung to its legs. To Blue’s trained eye, the stray looked like some kind of Maltese mix, the kind of dog that should be named Bonbon and have a pink bow in its topknot. But this little critter hadn’t been pampered in a very long time.

  Dean went down on one knee. “Where did you come from, big guy?”

  The yipping stopped, and the dog regarded him suspiciously. Dean held out his hand, palm up. “It’s a wonder you haven’t been eaten up by a coyote.”

  The dog cocked its head, then came cautiously forward to sniff him.

  “Not exactly your typical farm dog,” Blue said.

  “I’ll bet somebody abandoned him. Tossed him out of a car and drove away.” He poked around in the grubby fur. “No collar. Is that what happened, killer?” He ran his hand along the dog’s side. “His ribs are poking through. How long since you’ve eaten? I’d like five minutes in an alley with whoever dumped you off.”

  The critter rolled to his back and splayed his—her—legs.

  Blue gazed down at the little trollop. “At least make Dean work for it.”

  “Ignore Bo Peep. She’s sex starved, and it’s made her bitter.” Dean stroked the animal’s hollow, filth-covered tummy. “Come on, killer. Let’s get you something to eat.” With a last pat, he rose to his feet.

  Blue set off after the two of them. “Once you feed a dog, it’s yours.”

  “So what? Farms need dogs.”

  “Shepherds and border collies. That is not a country dog.”

  “Kindly Farmer Dean believes everyone deserves a chance.”

  “A word of warning,” she called out to his back. “That is a gay man’s dog, so if you want to stay in the closet…”

  “I’m turning you in to the P.C. police.”

  At least the mangy little yipper had taken Dean’s mind off the drama at the house, and Blue kept up the distraction by bickering with him until they reached the front yard.

  The trucks that should have been clogging the lane were nowhere in sight. No din of hammers or scream of power drills disturbed the sound of the birds. He frowned. “I wonder what’s going on.”

  April emerged from the house, her cell in hand. The dog greeted her with furious yelps. “Quiet!” Dean said. The animal recognized leadership and fell silent. Dean surveyed the yard. “Where is everybody?”

  April came off the porch. “It seems they’ve fallen mysteriously ill.”

  “All of them?”

  “Apparently.”

  Blue started putting the pieces together and didn’t like what she saw. “It’s not because…No, I’m sure it isn’t.”

  “We’ve been boycotted.” April threw up one hand. “How did you make that woman so mad?”

  “Blue did what she needed to,” Dean said sharply.

  Riley flew out onto the porch. “I hear a dog!” The mutt went bonkers at the sight of her. She hurried down the steps but slowed as she got closer. Kneeling, she extended her hand just as Dean had. “Hey, doggie.”

  The filthy fur ball regarded her suspiciously but condescended to be petted. Riley looked up at Dean, her perpetual worry line digging deeper into her forehead. “Is she yours?”

  He thought it over for a moment. “Why not? There’ll be a caretaker around when I’m not here.”

  “What’s its name?”

  “She’s a stray. She doesn’t have a name.”

  “Can I like…call her…” She studied the dog. “…maybe Puffy?”

  “I, uh, was thinking something on the order of Killer.”

  Riley studied the dog. “She looks more like a Puffy.”

  Blue couldn’t harden her heart against the stray a moment longer. “Let’s go find Puffy something to eat.”

  “Get the contractor on the phone,” Dean said to April. “I want to talk to him.”

  “I’ve been trying. He’s not picking up.”

  “Then maybe I’d better pay him a personal visit.”

  April wanted Puffy defleaed by a vet, and she somehow convinced Jack to take the dog with him when he and Riley left for Nashville. Blue secretly doubted having the dog in the house would ever be a problem. Regardless of what Jack had promised, Blue didn’t believe he’d keep his word and bring Riley back. She gave the eleven-year-old an extra hug before she left. “Don’t take any crap from anybody, okay?”

  “I’ll try?” Riley answered with a question mark.

  Blue intended to hitchhike into town and look for a job, but April needed help, so she spent the rest of the day trying to earn her keep by cleaning out kitchen cupboards, arranging dishes, and setting up a linen closet. Dean e-mailed April that the contractor had disappeared. A “family emergency,” according to a neighbor.

  Late in the afternoon, April made her take a break, and Blue went outside to explore. She wandered through the woods and followed the creek that led to the pond, staying out longer than she’d planned. When she returned
, she found a note from Dean waiting for her on the kitchen counter.

  Sweetheart,

  I’ll be back Sunday night. Keep the bed warm for me.

  Your Loving Fiancé

  P.S. Why did you let Jack take my dog?

  She threw the note in the trash. One more person she’d grown to care about had taken off without warning. But so what? She didn’t care that much.

  It was only Friday afternoon. Where had he gone? An ominous foreboding claimed her. She raced upstairs, grabbed her purse, and pulled out her wallet. Sure enough, the hundred dollars he’d given her the night before had disappeared.

  Her loving fiancé wanted to make sure she stayed put.

  Annabelle Granger Champion gazed at Dean across the living room of the spacious contemporary home in Chicago’s Lincoln Park that she shared with her husband and two children. Dean was still sprawled on the floor from an earlier bout of roughhousing with Trevor, her three-year-old son, who was now napping.

  “There’s something you’re not telling me,” Annabelle said from her perch on the roomy sofa.

  “There’s a lot I’m not telling you,” he retorted, “and I intend to keep it that way.”

  “I’m a professional matchmaker. I’ve heard it all.”

  “Good. Then you don’t need to hear any more.” He got up and walked toward the wedge of windows that looked out over the street. He had an evening flight back to Nashville, and he damned well intended to be on it. He wasn’t going to be driven away from his own home, and as long as he kept Blue in place as his buffer, he could make it work.

  But Blue was more than his buffer. She was his—

  He didn’t know what she was. Not exactly a friend, although she understood him better than people he’d known for years, and she entertained him as much as any of them, maybe more. Also, he didn’t want to fuck his friends, and he definitely wanted to fuck her.

  Yeah, he was a real stud, all right. Memories of his mortifying performance on Thursday night made him cringe. He’d been messing around with her, getting them both warmed up, but then he’d heard those throaty moans, felt her convulse, and he’d lost it. Literally. Blue had been throwing him off stride since the moment they’d met. Speed Racer, indeed. Next chance he got, he was going to make her eat those words.

  Annabelle was staring at him. “There’s something going on with you,” she said, “and it involves a woman. I’ve been sensing it all afternoon. Something more than another one of your meaningless sexual escapades. You’ve been very distracted.”

  He arched his eyebrow at her. “All of a sudden you’re some big psychic?”

  “Matchmakers have to be psychic.” She turned to her husband. “Heath, go away. He won’t tell me a thing while you’re hanging around.” Annabelle had met Dean’s agent not long after she’d taken over her grandmother’s matchmaking business when Heath had accidentally hired her to find him a beautiful, sophisticated society wife. Annabelle wasn’t exactly any of those things. But her big eyes, feisty personality, and riot of curly red hair had captivated him, and they had one of the best marriages Dean had ever seen.

  Heath, who was nicknamed the Python for his habit of consuming his enemies whole, curled his mouth in a snake’s smile. He was a good-looking guy, about Dean’s height, with an Ivy League degree and a street scrapper’s mentality. “The Boo tells me everything, Annabelle. Except for you, he’s my closest friend.”

  Dean snorted. “The depth of your friendship, Heathcliff, is purely based on how much revenue I generate for Champion Sports Management.”

  “He’s got you there, Heath,” Annabelle said cheerfully. And then, to Dean, “Privately, you drive him crazy. You’re too unpredictable.”

  Heath tucked their sleeping infant daughter into the crook of his neck. “Now, now, Annabelle, no pillow talk in front of my grossly insecure clients.”

  Dean loved these guys. Well, he loved Annabelle, but he also knew his professional life couldn’t be in better hands than Heath’s.

  Annabelle was like a bloodhound when she felt she was on the track of something interesting. “You’re never distracted, Dean. I’ve lost five pounds, and you didn’t even notice. What’s wrong? Who is she?”

  “Nothing’s wrong. If you want to nag somebody, nag Bozo over there. Do you know he’s planning to take fifteen percent for that cologne deal?”

  “I want a new car,” she said. “Now stop dodging. You’ve met somebody.”

  “Annabelle, I left Chicago less than two weeks ago, and until I got to the farm, I spent most of my time in the car. How could I have met someone?”

  “I don’t know, but I think you did.” Annabelle dropped her bare feet to the floor. “This shouldn’t be happening when I’m not around to supervise. You’re too swayed by appearances. I’m not saying you’re shallow because you’re not. It’s just that you’re always attracted by the superficial, and then you’re disappointed when the women don’t live up to your expectations. Although I have made several excellent matches from your castoffs.”

  Dean could see exactly where this discussion was going, and he tried to head it off. “So, Heath, has Phoebe signed Gary Candliss yet? When I talked to Kevin, it sounded like a done deal.”

  But Annabelle was picking up steam. “Then when I set you up with someone who’s perfect for you, you won’t give her a chance. Look what happened with Julie Sherwin.”

  “Here we go,” Heath murmured.

  Annabelle ignored him. “Julie was smart, successful, beautiful—one of the sweetest women I’ve ever met—but you dumped her after two dates!”

  “I dumped her because she took everything I said literally. You’ve got to admit, Annabelle, that’s just disconcerting. I made her so nervous she couldn’t eat, not that she did much of it anyway. It was an act of mercy.”

  “You do that to women. I know you try not to, but it still happens. It’s your looks. Except for Heath, you’re my most challenging client.”

  “I am not your client, Annabelle,” he retorted. “I don’t pay you a cent.”

  “Pro bono,” she chirped, looking so pleased with herself that both Dean and Heath laughed.

  Dean grabbed his rental car keys from the coffee table. “Look, Annabelle. I came back to the city for the weekend so I could pack some things to ship to the farm and catch up on all the business your husband has been throwing at me. There’s nothing earthshaking going on in my life.”

  Now that was a lie.

  As he drove to the airport, he thought about Blue and contemplated how easily he’d given himself over to the dark side. And for what? Emptying out her wallet didn’t guarantee she’d stay in place. If she made up her mind to leave the farm, she’d do it, even if it meant sleeping on a park bench. She’d only stayed around this long because so much had happened. He hoped April had been able to drag her to those estate sales in Knoxville over the weekend because he didn’t want to think about returning to the farm and finding Blue gone.

  Blue sat on the porch step, cradling her second cup of Monday morning coffee and trying to appear relaxed as she watched Dean riding toward her down the lane. She’d spotted his car keys on the kitchen counter when she’d gotten up this morning, but he hadn’t come to the caravan, and this was the first time she’d seen him since he’d taken off on Friday.

  He was riding a high-tech gunmetal gray road bike that could have carried Lance Armstrong up the Champs-Élysées. He looked magnificent, almost futuristic, as though he belonged in a big budget sci-fi movie. Sunlight bounced off an aerodynamic silver helmet, and powerful leg muscles rippled beneath a pair of skintight electric blue bike shorts. Her own leg muscles felt wobbly just watching, and an unacceptable pang of longing pierced her heart.

  He drew up to the end of the old brick walk. It was barely eight o’clock, but judging from the sweat glistening on his neck and the damp cling of the green mesh shirt to that amazing chest, he’d been doing some serious riding. Blue forced herself to get a grip. She nodded toward the bike. “Nice.
How long have the training wheels been off?”

  “Big talk from somebody who looks like she lives in a toy box.” He swung his leg over the frame and walked the bike toward her. “I decided it was time I stopped messing around and started getting back in shape.”

  She couldn’t help gaping. “You were out of shape?”

  “Let’s just say I’ve slacked off more than I should have since the season ended.” He pulled off his helmet and hung it over the handlebars. “I’m turning that back bedroom into a weight room. I don’t believe in showing up for training camp flabby and overweight.”

  “Not to worry.”

  He smiled and tunneled his fingers through his sweaty, flattened hair, which instantly rearranged itself into a sexy rumple. “April e-mailed me photos of the paintings and antiques the two of you found in Knoxville this weekend. Thanks for going with her. The pieces will look good with the new furniture I ordered.”

  Blue had seriously considered setting her pride aside and asking April for a small loan. With all Knoxville’s great neighborhoods, she wouldn’t have had any trouble finding clients, and she could have repaid April in no time. But she hadn’t asked. Just like a kid playing with matches, she’d come back. She had to see what would happen next.

  “So how was your weekend?” She managed to set aside her cup without slopping any coffee over the rim.

  “Filled with alcohol and rampant sex. Yours?”

  “Pretty much the same.”

  He smiled again. “I flew to Chicago. I had some business to take care of. And Annabelle was the only woman I spent any time with while I was there, in case you’re interested.”

  She was very interested. She curled her lip. “Like I care.”

  He pulled a water bottle from the bike and tilted his head toward the barn. “I had the shop deliver two bikes. The second one’s a smaller hybrid. Use it whenever you want.”

  She stood up so she could give him her best hard-ass look. “I’d thank you for that, but my gratitude ran out when I discovered that my hooker money is missing from my wallet. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”