Drop Dead Gorgeous

by Jennifer Skully

  “So you thought you’d change her mind if you started a little phone…” Madison cleared her throat delicately.

  Richard busied himself with his own piece of bread, then finally gave her the answer she’d been waiting for. “Yes.”

  God, she loved honesty in a man. He’d just bared his soul, revealed his insecurities and let her see the real Richard Lyons.

  He also liked phone sex.

  She cocked her head. “I’d have changed my mind if I were her.”

  “You would?”

  Building his confidence before their main course even arrived was the least Madison could do. “Especially with your voice.”

  “You like my voice?”

  She adored his voice. Deep, but not too deep, with a hint of mischief over the phone. Most of all, it was that tinge of uncertainty he had right now. “Kim’s going to figure out she made a really big mistake.”

  He pushed his salad away. “Maybe there’s something wrong with me.”

  Nothing Madison couldn’t fix.

  LAURENCE REALIZED with a jolt that he had Ronnie’s card in his jacket pocket and her hand on his thigh. High on his thigh. Damn close to his…Conversation hummed pleasantly around them, the baseball game was over and the music no longer split his head in two, but Ronnie’s hand made him extremely uncomfortable. After all, they’d merely exchanged idle chitchat while he kept an eye on Madison.

  He looked pointedly down at her long pale fingers tipped in crimson. “I don’t think I know you well enough for that.”

  Her jaw dropped open in a very unfeminine gape. “Excuse me?”

  “Your hand. On my thigh. I don’t think that’s appropriate at this stage of our acquaintance.”

  She snatched her hand back as though he’d touched it with a cattle prod.

  “I realize that I must seem like some Neanderthal, but I just don’t think I’m up on this new dating protocol. How old are you?”

  “Twenty-seven.”

  “When will you be twenty-eight?”

  Eyeing him warily, she answered. “At the end of the month.”

  God, Madison’s age to a tee. Did that mean Madison would soon be putting her hand on Dick the Prick? She’d better not. Laurence wouldn’t be answerable for his actions. “I’m a good ten years older than you, and when I was your age, it was the man who put his hand on a girl’s thigh.” He thinned his lips. “Then the girl was supposed to slap him.”

  Something feral flickered in her eyes, and her nose tipped to a haughty angle. “Are you going to slap me?”

  He had the oddest feeling this wasn’t going his way. “That wasn’t what I meant. I just meant that ladies used to possess a certain decorum that some women seem to have lost these days.”

  She put a hand to her mouth, the same one that had recently been on him, but something nasty had happened to her eyes. “Oh, you mean that in your day, women weren’t the aggressors.”

  In his day? Didn’t she know it was still his day? He was only thirty-eight, for God’s sake. “Men are the aggressors.” Was that what most women believed? Surely not Madison.

  Obviously Ronnie did have a prejudice. “Who says they’re the ones who get to decide when a sexual move will be made?” She had daggers in her eyes just for him.

  He tried to clarify. “It’s as inappropriate for a woman to put her hand on a man’s thigh as it is for a man to do it to a woman.”

  “Men are chauvinists. Men are pigs. Women have just as much right to make the first move.”

  Perhaps it was the uncalled-for attack when he’d only been trying to explain to her a little about how men felt. Perhaps it was the snarl disfiguring her lips. Perhaps it was Harriet’s harangue earlier in the day. Or maybe it was the fact that Madison’s hand had disappeared beneath the white linen tablecloth. Whatever it was, Laurence suddenly lost control.

  His eyes never leaving Ronnie’s twisted face, Laurence reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out her card. “I’m sure I won’t be needing this.” Then he ripped it in half.

  He saw it coming and didn’t flinch.

  Her hand smacked his jaw with a slap that cut through every word, every voice, every snippet of conversation, every peal of laughter and even the music blaring overhead. Silence.

  Then she threw her drink in his face, and the entire place erupted. Or maybe it was just Madison coming like a whirlwind to his rescue.

  He thanked God Ronnie had already grabbed her purse from the bartop and stormed from the raging bar in staccato-heeled fury.

  Madison’s touch on his arm was heaven. He didn’t like scenes, couldn’t believe he’d participated in this one, had actually encouraged it.

  “Are you all right, T. Larry?” She dabbed a napkin at the wine on his face, his cheeks and his lips. He closed his eyes.

  Voices buzzing around them became a din. He hated being the center of attention. “I didn’t handle the situation well.”

  “T. Larry, you’re a wonder of understatement. I knew letting you sit by yourself in a bar was a bad idea. I should have sent you home immediately.”

  “Is this your brother?” Dick the Prick was on her heels, his face a ghastly shade of white.

  Laurence put one foot to the floor and came half off his seat, fists clenched. “No, I’m not her brother—”

  Madison didn’t let him finish. “He’s my boss. He’s had a bad experience. We’d better walk him to his car.”

  “We?” he chorused with Dick, then slumped back onto the stool.

  She put a perfect little hand on the bastard’s sleeve. “We were just finishing, weren’t we, Richard?”

  “Uh, uh, yeah,” Dick stuttered, presumably because they clearly couldn’t have finished.

  Madison went on. “We’ll drop off T. Larry, then you can walk me to my car.”

  Laurence saw red. “I’ll walk you to your car, and Dick here can find his way to his own vehicle.”

  “He goes by Richard, not Dick.”

  Laurence took a deep breath. He wasn’t jealous. The ginger ale had gone to his head. Or he’d lost his mind. There was no other explanation, not for this incredible need he had to smash every bone in Dick’s face, nor for the earlier embarrassing scene with Ronnie. “I think I’m having a nervous breakdown.”

  Madison patted his arm. “You’ll feel better after a nice hot shower.”

  Only if she were in it with him. And not near Dick the Prick in any way, shape or form.

  Laurence rose, holding his head in his hand, Madison’s soft, perfumed touch doing yet another number on his brain. Pulling out his wallet, he yanked out two twenties, enough to cover Ronnie’s tab as well as his.

  The bartender held up his hand. “It’s on me, bud.”

  “But…”

  The man leaned his belly against the bar. “You said it for us all, man. Did us guys proud. You never gotta pay for another drink inside these doors as long as I’m here.”

  Madison gripped his arm, her breath sweet with champagne. “What did you say, T. Larry?”

  The bartender slicked back his thinning hair, puffed out his chest, then put his hand to his heart. “He upheld male honor everywhere.”

  Laurence grabbed Madison’s hand and made a dash for the exit amidst a deafening roar of applause, slamming the door on a refrain of “Way to go, dude,” which almost drowned out the female answer of “Lynch the dirty bastard.”

  Too bad they hadn’t managed to leave Dick on the inside.

  Seemed Madison hadn’t forgotten her date, either. “Oh, Richard, I left my purse at the table. Will you get it?”

  “Of course.” The pompous bastard oozed charm.

  “Did he pay the bill?” Laurence wanted to know as soon as the door closed after him.

  “I didn’t notice since I was rushing over to you.”

  Ah, she hadn’t noticed Richard the Lionhearted in the dash to be at his side. Good, very good. He’d have dragged her away right now if she hadn’t left her purse behind.

  “How old is h
e?” Laurence indicated the door with a thumb over his shoulder.

  “Thirty-three.”

  “I’m five years older.”

  “Yes, I know.” She put a hand to his forehead. “Did she scramble your brain when she hit you?”

  “It was only a slap, not a hit.” What the hell was taking Dick so long? Throw some bills on the table, get the purse and leave.

  The door burst open once more, and there the Prick was, all flushed, Madison’s huge purse under his arm. She took it with a grateful smile. Laurence growled, grabbed her arm and pulled her along with him.

  “T. Larry,” she said, while his feet ate up the concrete. She tugged on his hand to slow him down, touching the still-burning mark on his face. “What did you say to her?”

  He looked back at Dick the Prick. The creep was following them. He thought about where Madison’s hand might have been. “She put her hand on my crotch, and I told her to remove it.” The slight exaggeration didn’t bother him in the least. Madison would have done the same to make a point. Just today she’d told him little white lies for a good cause were acceptable.

  “You told her to what?” That was Dick.

  Laurence had eyes for only Madison. Hers were deeper than green, as fathomless as the sea. “I told her to take her hand off my crotch.”

  He’d left off the other bits because the end had really come about when he hadn’t responded the way Ronnie wanted him to. Madison understood. “You insulted her woman power.”

  He’d do it again. “What should I have done, Madison?”

  Madison beamed at him. “I think you did just the right thing, T. Larry.”

  All he could think was that if it had been Madison’s hand…

  Well, there it was, plain and simple, with Dick standing sentinel. Laurence wouldn’t have told Madison to take her hand away, instead he would have moved it right onto his very important and most private part. He might even have begged.

  He couldn’t quite say when the terrible thing had happened, but he knew for sure he wanted Madison O’Donnell. He wanted her hands on the rest of his anatomy.

  She needed a man, not some thirty-three-year-old boy with too much hair.

  He didn’t want to just pretend he was The One, he wanted to be The One.

  At least for as long as it took to convince her she wasn’t going to die.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “I’LL WALK MADISON to her car.”

  “No, I’ll walk Madison to her car.”

  Madison put one hand on each of their chests and pushed them apart. “If you two don’t cut it out, I’ll walk myself to my car.”

  That stopped them.

  T. Larry’s eyes glittered with manic fervor, probably the aftereffects of his altercation. Who’d have thought? She was proud of him. He’d put himself out on a limb in a public forum rife with opportunities for humiliation, and he hadn’t lost sight of who he was or what he believed in. Later, she’d ask him what he’d said to make the woman laugh before she slapped him and threw her drink in his face. First, though, there was Richard.

  “Richard is my date,” she told T. Larry, “and he’ll walk me to my car.”

  T. Larry balled his fists. “Madison.”

  “T. Larry.” She prepared for a Mexican standoff.

  Despite the warmth of the June day, the night had turned cool. Madison hugged her jacket tighter. Exhaust stung her nostrils. Taking up the middle of the sidewalk in front of Cruzio’s Grand Café, they’d attracted attention. A man pulled his wife close to his side, then inched past them as if he expected a fight. Another couple stopped for the impending fireworks. Richard’s gaze switched from her to T. Larry and back like a tennis match.

  “I’m not going to stand out here forever.”

  T. Larry’s fists relaxed. “He can walk you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’ll walk ten paces behind, since we’re going the same way.”

  She almost smiled. This time Richard clenched his fists, but she took his hand, pried his fingers loose and slipped her palm against his. “Make it twenty.”

  T. Larry growled as she pulled Richard through the small throng that had gathered. She loved the city. True, nooks and crannies emitted unpleasant odors and panhandlers begged on most corners, but bright neon signs lit the night and the enticing scent of garlic laced with voices and laughter floated on the air. Her black skirt swished around her thighs, her feet tingled inside her high-heeled pumps, and her hand tucked in Richard’s perspired lightly with excitement. On nights like this, she thanked God she was alive. She didn’t worry about dying. Especially not with Richard’s cologne wafting around her and T. Larry’s hot, protective glare on her back.

  “Is there something I should know about…that man?” Richard glanced over his shoulder.

  “T. Larry?”

  Richard sighed with irritation. Ooh, he was jealous.

  “He’s my boss.”

  “I know.” Richard paused, pulling her hand through his arm. His silk suit jacket caressed her knuckles. “He’s the first boss I’ve ever seen follow his employees around for their—” he looked down, a puff of breath ruffling her hair “—protection.”

  “He’s not usually like this, but today’s a special day.”

  “Special how?”

  They turned in at the garage before she could answer. Madison dropped his arm to fish in her purse for her ticket and some cash. She hadn’t bought the monthly pass since she preferred the train and rarely drove her car.

  Richard reached reflexively into his back pocket for his wallet. “I’ll get that for you.”

  How sweet. “I’ve got it.” She fed the bill into the machine along with her ticket. T. Larry waited a short distance away by the street opening. Was that twenty paces using his feet or twenty paces using mousesize feet? Close enough to overhear Richard, T. Larry rolled his eyes. Taking Richard’s arm, she steered him away before he saw.

  They waited by the elevator. “Now about why today is special…”

  The elevator came, they stepped inside, then just as the doors were about to close, T. Larry pushed through. Richard’s lips thinned. T. Larry’s mouth split in the biggest grin she’d ever seen him wear.

  “You jumped in here on purpose.” She should have been mad, but Madison hadn’t been mad about anything in so long she’d sort of forgotten how. Besides, that grin was infectious, though she managed to hide her own for Richard’s benefit.

  “I didn’t want to miss this one,” T. Larry explained without necessity, and Madison was sure he meant more than the elevator. “Sometimes, these things take forever.”

  Which was true, but Madison knew that wasn’t the only reason. T. Larry didn’t trust Richard. And he didn’t intend to let them out of his sight for a moment. Testosterone battled in the small lift. She was thankful when the doors finally opened on her floor.

  They spilled out into the gloomy parking garage.

  “My car’s this way,” she told Richard.

  “Mine is, too,” T. Larry answered.

  She jabbed a finger in his chest. “Thirty paces.”

  Beneath the silk suit, tension transformed Richard’s arm to rock. The heels of her shoes echoed off the walls. An engine rumbled to life on the floor below. A quick glance told her T. Larry kept his position by the elevator, his lips moving as he counted. Thirty, then he started to follow.

  The ridiculous turn of the situation made Madison want to laugh. Badly. Almost uncontrollably. What had gotten into T. Larry? Merely the state of her tires that afternoon?

  Her yellow coupe was parked five stalls down from his Camry. His keys jingled loudly in his pocket as he fished them out.

  Richard bent to her ear. “Are you going to tell me what’s so special about today and why your boss is breathing down your neck?”

  “It started with my tires.” Actually it started with Richard’s phone call. They neared her car.

  Richard stopped, almost tugging Madison off her feet when she blithely kept
going. “Your tires?”

  She pulled him the extra steps to her bumper. Whatever was wrong? His face had gone deathly white.

  “Some kids slashed my tires this afternoon as a practical joke. It wasn’t any big deal.” Thank God T. Larry had climbed in his own car. He’d have strangled her for saying that, especially for believing it.

  Richard’s hand kneaded her fingers where he’d grabbed her. His knuckles cracked. “You got them fixed.”

  “Well, yeah. How else was I supposed to drive home?”

  He stared at her brand-spanking-new and absolutely gorgeous tires. “I would have driven you home.”

  “You’re sweet. But T. Larry would have done that.”

  Five spaces away from them, T. Larry’s car roared to life. He gunned the engine.

  “Did T. Larry get the tires fixed, too?”

  “Oh, no. I did that.” Richard’s hand relaxed on her arm. “T. Larry just called the cops for me.”

  All sorts of things happened to Richard’s face then. His nostrils worked air in and out, his lips tensed, and tiny lines shot from the corners of his mouth. “Seems like T. Larry does an awful lot of things for you.”

  Goodness, an honest-to-God spark of jealousy. She couldn’t mistake that. No one had ever been jealous before. It was nice. But she couldn’t let it get out of hand. “Oh, he’s just a big protective teddy bear. Like my brothers.”

  T. Larry chose that moment to cruise by. He did look like a bear, teeth bared, eyes narrowed. His tires squeaked on the concrete as he pulled away, slowly, his gaze on them in his rearview mirror.

  And then Richard said the most amazing thing. “Madison, you’re not like anyone I’ve ever known before.”

  Well, she hoped not, but that odd note of reverence sent a little thrill straight through her body. “Thank you.”

  He took a step closer, dropped his voice low, intimate. “I wish I could have been there for you when you found your tires vandalized. It must have frightened you so.”

  Of course, she’d told him it had been no big thing, but that tone, that caring…“Kids,” she murmured as if she were saying something completely different. “It wasn’t like it was personal.”