To Win Her Trust

by Mackenzie Crowne

  Her stride matched her attitude. From the little he’d gleaned of her, she was a serious, no-nonsense woman with a backbone of steel and just enough flashes of humor and sass to keep a man interested. Love at first sight? The jury was still out, but damn, he liked her.

  She approached the bench. Walter snuffled as he woke suddenly and leaped to his feet to greet her. Brushing a palm over the dog’s wide skull, she eyed Tuck. “For a minute there, I was afraid you’d killed him.”

  “I thought about it, but I’m scared of his owner. I hear she’s as mean as a snake.”

  “Uh-huh.” Her smile widened and she straightened, glancing around. “What happened with the poodle?”

  “She was a snob.”

  Her searching gaze flicked back to meet his, and she arched a brow.

  He shrugged. “Walter wasn’t impressed. She had hairy ankles.”

  “Hairy ankles?”

  “You know.” He twirled an index finger in the air. “Puffs of hair on her ankles and tail.”

  Her lips quirked toward a smile, but she twisted them into a smirk. “I think that’s called a pom-pom cut.”

  He grinned. “Yeah, well, it grossed Walter out. Right, buddy?”

  The dog pressed against Tuck’s thigh in a bald demand for attention.

  Tuck obliged. “He took off to chase a butterfly. She left in a snit.”

  “Snit?”

  Her tinkling laugh brushed over his nerve endings like a live wire.

  She shook her head. “Where exactly are you from?”

  “Southie. South Boston.”

  “I didn’t realize in a snit was a common New England phrase.”

  He smiled and stood. “It’s not, but Maryanne Tucker, my mom, is from Jackson, Mississippi. Once, when I was six, she washed my mouth out with soap when she heard me say ‘pissed off.’ The phrase offended her sensibilities.” He chuckled at the memory. “‘In a snit’ seemed like a healthy alternative. Mom agreed.”

  She grinned, and he tapped at the prominent bump on his nose.

  “Unfortunately, my friends didn’t. At first. I changed their minds.”

  She snickered, and moving closer, he ducked his head to meet her humor-filled gaze. “You’re a cruel woman. Laughing at a man’s battle wounds.”

  “I’m laughing at the irony of you having had your nose broken in a fight over the word snit.”

  He fought off a laugh with a smirk. “I’ve been in fights caused by much less. You don’t survive childhood in Southie without a few scars.”

  She shook her head. “Boys are idiots.”

  A wry grin tugged at his lips, and he rubbed at the bump in his nose. No way in hell would he admit the deformity came courtesy of Angie Connors. The rough and tumble neighborhood he’d called home produced tough boys, and the girls were no slouches either.

  All in all, he couldn’t complain about the progress he’d made, but she’d regrouped by the time they arrived back at her condo. Her excuse of having a doctor’s appointment, with her gynecologist no less, was a bald-faced lie, and they both knew it. He let her go, promising himself they’d tangle again soon. As he watched her disappear inside, he smiled.

  Chapter 5

  “Ronald! I wasn’t expecting you.”

  CC’s heart skittered erratically upon opening her door. For the past forty-eight hours, she’d gone back and forth, debating pros and cons as she wrestled with the idea of requesting Ronald Bartolini’s help to test her theory. On the one hand, she risked their very satisfactory business association if things went badly. On the other, things could work out just fine, and her odds of success were better if she stepped out of her comfort zone with a man with whom she was at least somewhat comfortable.

  She’d been briefly tempted, when Tuck appeared on her doorstep yesterday, to throw caution to the wind and take advantage of his obvious interest, but no. She wouldn’t repeat her mother’s mistake by tangling with a playboy, even if the relationship was just temporary. Playboys were selfish, pushy, and nothing but trouble. Kevin Tucker wouldn’t do. If she was going to take this crazy step, Ronald was the safer choice.

  With her choice standing in front of her, however, nerves urged her to forget the entire thing. Yet, how could she live with herself if she didn’t at least try? She’d made herself a promise, damn it, and time was almost up. Crazy she might be, but the possibility of controlling the panic attacks, while grasping at the chance for a relatively normal life, was too tempting to dismiss out of hand.

  She eyed Ronald critically. Chin high, shoulders straight, his natural confidence made him appear taller than his actual five-foot-nine-inch height. His conservative, slate-gray business suit matched his serious personality. Not a strand of his short, coal black hair was out of place. His dark complexion spoke of his Italian heritage, as did the Roman nose below chestnut eyes. Those eyes smiled warmly as he blocked Walter’s enthusiastic greeting with the briefcase he carried.

  She grabbed the dog’s collar and pulled him back.

  “I have an appointment down the street, so I thought I’d drop this by on my way.” He held up an envelope. “Putnam Gallery sold two more pieces by Anonymous. You’re gaining a following. It won’t be long before the masses start clamoring for the artist’s name.”

  “Ronald.”

  He passed her the envelope. “I know. I don’t understand your need to keep your name private, but I know. Still, it’s my job to advise you on your career.”

  “Consider me advised.”

  He chuckled at her dry tone, but then his gaze snagged on a spot beyond her shoulder. “New piece?”

  He brushed by her to cross the room in four determined strides. She didn’t bother answering. Experience had taught her he wouldn’t hear a word she said. When it came to art, everything else faded into the background for Ronald. He knew talent when he saw it. Two of the reasons he was such a success at his chosen career.

  Circling her workbench, he bent at the waist, twisting his head this way and that. He studied the piece from every angle before straightening. “What’s it called?”

  She left the door open and followed, then stopped at his side. “Yearning.”

  He nodded and slid a slim smartphone from his pocket. He caught her eye. “May I?”

  She nodded and he snapped several pictures. “I’d be remiss in my duties as your agent if I didn’t demand you build a show around this one.” He shifted his dark gaze to her. “Your work needs to be shown.”

  She held up the envelope, flapping it back and forth. “My work is shown, and you can demand all you want. No shows.”

  He sighed. “You’re the boss, but it’s a shame. A pure shame.” He jerked his chin toward the sculpture. “Shall I take this with me? Putnam requested replacements.”

  “No. I’m not ready to part with it yet.” She pulled a sealed box from beneath her workbench and handed it to him. “Angela at Putnam called yesterday with her request. I packed up several finished pieces. She’s expecting them.”

  He eyed Yearning with a disappointed frown. “Promise me you won’t give this one away.”

  She smirked. Against his wishes, she’d instructed the galleries she contracted with to call her directly when a customer inquired after a piece but couldn’t afford the asking price. It drove Ronald crazy her sculptures occasionally found their way into the hands of an appreciative stranger at reduced cost, but she believed art was meant to be shared. Since she made sure Ronald always got his full commission, he couldn’t complain over much.

  “I mean it, CC. This is some of your best work. I’ll buy it before I watch you hand it over to one of your cheapskate fans.”

  She laughed. “You’re an art snob, Ronald, you know that?”

  “CC—”

  “I promise.” She held up her hand as if taking an oath. “You’ll have first dibs before I give it away.”

  “See that I do.” He pinned her with stern eyes but couldn’t hold his scowl. A wry smile curved his lips. Tucking the box under one a
rm, he checked his watch. “I’d better go or I’ll be late.”

  He turned for the door, and she gnawed at her lower lip. Should she? Could she? Her feet moved without conscious thought. “Wait, Ronald.”

  He paused in the open doorway to face her. His black brows arched expectantly.

  She shuffled to a stop several feet from him and the door. “I…uh.” She sucked in a steadying breath. “I was wondering….”

  He dipped his head. “Yes?”

  Just do it. The worst that can happen is he says no.

  “I was wondering if you were seeing anyone.” There. Casual curiosity. Easy breezy.

  Though he raised a brow at the unexpected question, he smiled. “As a matter of fact, I just met a new woman.”

  “Oh.” Well, crap.

  “Why?” His smile turned teasing. “Were you hoping to fix me up?”

  Her cheeks blazed with heat. Ugh. Why hadn’t she kept her big mouth shut? She cleared her throat. “Something like that.”

  “Who is she?”

  “Ah. No one. Forget I asked. I didn’t realize you were seeing someone.” She shook her head, waving her hand, but her attempt at a dismissive laugh resembled a maniacal yelp.

  He shifted the box in his arms and his smile died. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing.”

  “CC?”

  Would he go away if she shoved him over the threshold and slammed the door in his face? Nope. Knowing Ronald, that would only increase his curiosity and prolong her agony. Walter started whining and attempted to squeeze by her agent to get out the door. She held the dog firm.

  Biting her lip, she met Ronald’s waiting gaze. “You promise not to laugh?”

  He responded with a demanding stare.

  “The truth is, I was asking for myself.”

  His mouth gaped open comically, and he took an unconscious step backward out onto the stoop. He snapped his mouth shut. Distressed confusion flooded his eyes.

  The desire to sink into the floor ranked right up there with the pressing need to slug him. Damn it. He might not be laughing, but did he have to look like she’d just grown a third eye?

  “Forget I asked.” She gripped the doorknob, preparing to shut him out, and lifted the envelope in her free hand. “Thanks for dropping this by.”

  “I’m sorry, CC, but you shocked me.”

  She drew her lips into a thin line, and his eyes filled with desperate apology.

  “In all the time I’ve known you, you’ve never… I’ve never known you to date.”

  “That’s because I haven’t.”

  “Well.” The box under his arm lifted along with his one-shouldered shrug.

  “Look. This has nothing to do with you personally. Really. It’s just that…” Unwilling to explain about her test when he obviously found the idea of dating her horrifying, she mentally scrambled about for an excuse that didn’t make her sound like a complete lunatic. “It’s just that, I graduated from art school almost three years ago. Since then, I’ve been focused solely on my art. It’s time I changed that. Who better to help me slide into the New York dating scene than a friend?”

  His prominent Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I uh… I don’t exactly have an exclusive agreement with Janet. I guess I could—”

  “Oh, don’t.” She slapped the hand holding the check over her eyes. “Please. Don’t say another word. I’m horrified enough already.”

  “Damn. I feel like a heel.”

  Yeah, well, that’s better than feeling like an idiot. She dropped her hand and met his gaze and wished she hadn’t. If the distress in his eyes turned to pity, she was going to slug him for real. “Don’t. It was just an idea. A stupid one. Go, before you miss your appointment.”

  “Maybe I should—”

  “Go, Ronald.” She narrowed the opening of the door, willing him to go away. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  He hesitated. “I really am sorry.”

  She growled low in her throat.

  “Okay, I’m going.” Wearing a guilty grimace, he spun around and escaped down the walk. She’d never seen him move so fast.

  She shut the door and slumped against it. The repeated thud of her head against wood was loud in the silent condo. Walter nuzzled her arm. She scowled at him. “Walter. Your mother is an idiot.”

  Ronald Bartolini is a stiff. You don’t want him, anyway.

  Zorro’s sensual accent failed to amuse. She moaned. “God. If I ever look like I’m going to do something that stupid again, bite me, will you?”

  He cocked his head, and she rubbed his satiny ear between thumb and forefinger. Man, she hadn’t realized how lucky she’d been in avoiding the dating scene all these years. Working up the courage to ask a person out on a date was nerve-racking, but extricating yourself from the embarrassment of a “no” was worse. Why did people bother?

  A knock shook the door at her back, and she squeezed her eyes shut. “Oh, go away and let me die in peace!”

  “We can’t have that.”

  Her eyes flew open at Kevin Tucker’s muffled reply. A stark whimper escaped her lips. She jammed the knuckle of her index finger between her teeth and bit down, hard.

  “Open up, sweetheart.” A long pause…then a singsong promise. “I’ll give you mouth to mouth.”

  Walter danced in excited circles. CC swallowed at the bubbling in her belly and refused to name it as matching excitement. It’s a case of indigestion. That’s all.

  Oh, God. Can this morning get any worse?

  She pressed a finger to her lips and glared at her grinning dog. Maybe if she ignored Tuck’s insistent knocking, the persistent flirt would give up and go away. Then she could deal with the embarrassment of Ronald’s rejection and figure out how she was going to face him again.

  She lasted a full thirty seconds before pushing off the door with a frustrated growl. Her fingers shook as she grasped the knob and yanked open the door. Walter rushed outside, puppy yelps piercing the morning quiet. Typically gorgeous in faded jeans and a stark white T-shirt, Tuck dipped to a squat. He rubbed vigorously at the dog’s neck. His unruly mop of blond hair stuck out from beneath today’s baseball cap, the golden streaks gleaming in the bright sunlight. She crossed her arms and glared at her uninvited visitor’s gilded head.

  “Apparently, no one’s ever told you stalking is against the law.”

  He met her gaze on a full-throated laugh…. And there went her breathing.

  The air backed up in her lungs, and though she had no business doing so, she couldn’t help herself. She smiled. “What do you want, Tuck?”

  “Well, now.” His eyes twinkled with mischief. “That’s a dangerous question. Do you really want to hear my answer?”

  Tingles of excitement rippled down her spine. “Probably not.”

  “That’s what I figured, but one of these days, I’m going to tell you flat out.”

  The smile died on her lips. Hmmm. What was a woman to say to that?

  He rose to his full height. His wide palm thumped Walter on the side as the dog leaned against his thigh. “I’m here to take my buddy to his first lesson.”

  “Lesson? Oh, the obedience class. I told you I’d take care of that.”

  He scratched at his stubbled chin with long fingers. “Shit, I must have misheard you.”

  She lifted a disbelieving brow. “Do you ever take no for an answer?”

  He didn’t respond, but then, he didn’t need to. His answer was there in his wickedly glittering eyes and popping dimples. No doubt he was used to getting his way. The man was a bulldozer. A sexy one, but a bulldozer just the same.

  “So, who’s the stiff?”

  “Stiff?” She dropped her arms to her sides and whipped a shocked glance at Walter. His tongue hung from his mouth as he leaned against Tuck’s thigh. She met Tuck’s clear gaze once more. Geez, a mind-reading bulldozer?

  He nodded over his shoulder. “The suit with the briefcase and the box.”

  “Why would you cal
l him a stiff?” Her voice held a distinctive squeak.

  He dipped his head, bringing his eyes even with hers. “Any man who’d turn down the opportunity to spend time with you has to be a stiff.”

  Her jaw dropped open. Oh, kill me now.

  “Your door was open. I heard voices and didn’t think it would be polite to interrupt.” Devilish possibilities simmered in his dark blue orbs. “Sweetheart, if you need a man to help you slide into the New York dating scene, you’ve found him.”

  Her search for an intelligent response ended in colossal failure. She stuttered incoherently, a circumstance he clearly found highly entertaining. His grin spread wide. Retreat was in order, but any chance she had of escaping inside was lost when the door of the condo beside hers opened.

  Mary Olsen paused with her hand on the knob to eye Tuck suspiciously. If not for the fear of looking insane, CC would have kissed her. Her cantankerous neighbor’s presence had never been more welcome.

  Almost as round as she was tall, the ancient terror of the neighborhood wheeled her metal shopping basket onto the common stoop, pulled her door shut, and rounded on Tuck. “Who are you?”

  “The name’s Kevin Tucker, ma’am.”

  “Any relation to Agnes Tucker? She’s a greeter over at St. Martin’s church.”

  “No, ma’am. Not that I know of.”

  She nodded curtly and harrumphed. “Never liked that woman. Shifty eyes.”

  CC cleared her throat before Mary could launch into her habit of ripping her fellow parishioners for their numerous faults. “Where are you off to, Mary?”

  The old lady slowly dragged her gaze from Tuck’s face. “Parsons Market. Cantaloupe is on sale. Gotta get there early before it’s all gone. Wanda Parsons never orders enough produce.” She tipped her head in Tuck’s direction. “He bothering you?”

  Hell yes, he was bothering her. Ronald was no longer a candidate for her test, but how was she supposed to focus on her search for a viable alternative with Tuck’s tempting offer dangling before her like a six-foot-four bar of rich, dark chocolate? For that matter, how was she supposed to put the memory of his kiss out of her mind if he kept showing up?

  Her gaze clashed with his. The challenge in his waiting smile nearly made her nod her head in affirmation of the old lady’s question and leave him to deal with the consequences. He might be a bulldozer, but Mary Olsen was a steamroller. She’d flatten him without blinking an eye.