Man Shy

by Catherine Mulvany

  “So,” said Kyle, “are you game?”

  “Glue-on chest hair?” Brody’s expression defied description, falling somewhere between incredulity and revulsion.

  “And gold chains like somebody caught in a seventies time warp. I’m pretty sure he used mascara on his mustache too.”

  Brody blinked. “Mascara?”

  “And nail polish.”

  “On his mustache?”

  “No, of course not. His fingernails.”

  “What color?”

  “Clear,” she admitted, “but even so c”

  Brody nodded in sympathy. “Even so.”

  Kyle smacked the table with his palm. “These digressions are all very fascinating, people, but to get back to the point, what do you say, Brody? Will you do it?”

  “Do what, exactly? You’re just talking about a date, right? A onetime shot? No strings?”

  “More like a two-time shot, actually, counting the rehearsal dinner. But absolutely no strings,” Mallory promised. She waited nervously for his answer. He was going to say no. She could feel it in her bones.

  Brody shrugged. “Sure. Okay.”

  “Why does she think I’m gay? You been lying to the lady?” Brody stuffed a chunk of chicken chimichanga in his mouth. Kyle, taking pity on his famished state, had agreed to this dinner at Chico’s. Unfortunately, he’d insisted that Brody shower and change first, which meant his poor stomach was only now, at a quarter to eight, getting relief.

  “I wouldn’t call it lying exactly.” Kyle wiped his salsa-covered fingertips on a napkin. “When I offered to fix her up, she assumed that since you’re my friend, you must be gay too. And then, when I arranged for her to meet you at the Blue Russian c” He shrugged.

  Brody chewed slowly, thinking about it. “Sounds to me like you wanted her to jump to the wrong conclusion.”

  “Yes, well c” Another shrug.

  “Well, what?”

  “Mallory’s a terrific person.” Kyle paused, nodding thoughtfully and sipping his margarita.

  Brody drained his second bottle of beer. “But?”

  Kyle poked his enchilada, not meeting Brody’s gaze. “But shy,” he said. “A little repressed.”

  Brody nodded. That fit. Feature for feature, Mallory was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, though she’d seemed determined to disguise the fact with glasses and baggy clothes. That prim little French braid of hers had driven him crazy. He’d kept wondering how she would look with all that pale hair loose on her shoulders, her bare shoulders.

  And those eyes. Behind her glasses, Mallory Scott had the clearest, bluest eyes he’d ever seen, haunting eyes that seemed to see right down inside him. A little repressed? Maybe. But he’d be willing to bet there was heat beneath that cool exterior.

  Kyle frowned. “Mallory clams up completely around most males, though she’s never been that way with me.”

  “Let me guess. You don’t threaten her because you’re gay.” He nodded. “And you figured if she knew I was heterosexual—”

  “She’d freeze up. That icicle act of hers is the real reason she hasn’t been able to find a date for the party. Anytime a guy shows a little interest—”

  “She turns into a snow princess,” Brody guessed.

  “Right. And since I know how important this date is to her, I didn’t want to give her an opportunity to shoot herself in the foot again.”

  “I see.” So the woman had unplumbed depths. Great. “Look, if Mallory has problems c”

  “None that need trouble you,” said Kyle. “All she wants is an escort, not a lifetime commitment.”

  Which should have been a relief, since marriage did not figure prominently in his future plans. His parents had done the wedding thing. Repeatedly. To date, he had four stepmothers, six stepfathers, and enough step-siblings to populate a small continent. None of his parents’ marriages lasted, which probably had something to do with the fact that infidelity was an honored Hunter family tradition.

  He frowned at the glob of guacamole on Kyle’s partially eaten enchiladas. “Good. ’Cause I’m definitely not looking for a wife.”

  “I’m not looking for a husband,” Mallory told Brody. She waved a spoon to emphasize her point. “I’m perfectly happy being single. But my family just doesn’t get it.”

  After leaving Chico’s, Brody had shown up on Mallory’s doorstep, armed with a list of questions and a couple of hot-fudge sundaes. In his experience, there wasn’t a woman in a thousand who could resist the allure of chocolate.

  He set his empty sundae dish on the trunk Mallory was using as a coffee table and settled back against the cushions of the love seat. “Families tend to tune out anything they don’t want to hear,” he said, thinking of his sister, Jenna, whose seemingly irrational behavior should have clued the family in that something was wrong. Unfortunately, no one had paid attention until it was too late.

  Though they didn’t look alike, Mallory reminded him of Jenna. She had the same quiet dignity, the same guileless gaze, the same air of vulnerability. “Families just don’t listen,” he said.

  “Oh, they listen when it suits them.” Next to him, Mallory scraped the last of the fudge from the bottom of her dish. Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, with her hair straggling free of its braid to curl in tendrils around her face and a tiny smudge of chocolate on her chin, she could have passed for one of her own students. “Believe me, when they meet you, my family will be all ears, straining to hear every last detail about our imaginary relationship.”

  “So fill me in.” He leaned closer to wipe off the chocolate with a corner of his napkin, but paused with his hand just inches from her face, arrested by the sudden look of panic in her eyes. “You missed a spot,” he said, handing her the napkin. “On your chin.”

  Shifting her gaze away from him, she scrubbed at her chin. He watched in fascination as the color rose in her cheeks. What had she thought he was going to do? Kiss her? Not that the idea hadn’t crossed his mind. But why such a strong reaction? She acted like she’d never been kissed before, yet surely, if she’d dated the same man for eleven years, she was accustomed to kisses. Kyle had warned him Mallory was shy, but her behavior was more than just a natural reserve. She seemed almost frightened.

  Brody frowned. Forget it, Hunter, he told himself. This woman’s hang-ups are none of your damn business. “So,” he said, his voice carefully casual, “how exactly did we meet? No, let me guess. I was the tour guide on your trip to Romania, right?”

  His words earned a smile. She met his gaze. “No, I didn’t figure out the Romanian connection until this evening. Basically, all I told my family was that you were tall, dark, and handsome.”

  “What?” He widened his eyes. “No background? No occupation?”

  “Not really. Though I did drop a few hints about covert operations.” She winced in preparation for his reaction.

  “I’m supposed to be CIA?”

  She chuckled. “Actually, I pictured you more as a soldier-of-fortune type. Have bazooka, will travel.”

  Brody grinned at the image of himself in Rambo getup. “Does that mean I get to wear a headband and camouflage paint to the wedding?”

  She shuddered. “Not unless you want everyone in town to think you’re GI Joe.”

  GI Joe was what the newspaper had dubbed the rapist who’d attacked several Brunswick-area women in the last two months. The only lead the police had to his identity was that he dressed like a combat soldier. Of all his current cases, it was the one Brody was most anxious to solve.

  “I guess that wouldn’t be such a great idea.” He turned to face Mallory more directly. “Do I have a name?”

  Once again color flushed her cheeks and she refused to meet his gaze. “I was thinking of it more like a nickname.”

  “What?” he asked, his imagination supplying several possibilities. “Viper? Satan? Numero Uno?”

  “Nothing quite that colorful. Just c Hunter.” She fell silent for a moment, her fingers busily
pleating and unpleating the hem of her shirt. “It’s almost like fate, huh?”

  TWO

  Mallory arrived home Friday evening after a marathon session at the gym to find Evan’s Lexus filling her parking spot. What does he want? she wondered, and waited for the familiar twist of pain. It didn’t come. Curiosity, yes. A mild irritation, yes again. But pain? No. She breathed deeply of the chill night air, smiling to herself in the darkness. Life goes on.

  The porch light lit up seconds before the front door flew open. “Mallory, where have you been? I’ve been waiting for hours.” An unaccustomed frown knit Lindsey’s brow. She advanced on her sister, her high heels clicking like castanets on the wooden boards of the entry deck.

  “At least you didn’t have to wait outside.” Mallory frowned. “The funny thing is I don’t remember leaving the door open.”

  Lindsey had the grace to look embarrassed. “You didn’t. “I—”

  “Found my spare key under the flowerpot.” Mallory sighed. “I’ve got to come up with a better hiding place.”

  “Where have you been all this time?” Lindsey demanded, remembering her grievance.

  “Well, maybe if you’d warned me you planned to stop by c”

  “Mallory? Hellooo? What did you think I meant when I called this morning to see if you were busy after school?”

  Oh, yeah. That call. “Sorry. I joined some fellow staff members to celebrate the official beginning of spring break, then headed straight for Aerobics Plus, where Hootie, the sadistic monster, tortured me in the name of physical fitness.” Every muscle in her body ached. “By the way, could you have Evan move his car? He parked in my spot.”

  “Evan’s not here. I borrowed the Lexus. I’ll move it in a second, okay? I need you to do me a favor.”

  Another one? I already handed you my boyfriend on a silver platter. What more do you want? “Lindsey, I’m whipped. It’s been a long day.” Wearily, Mallory climbed the steps. All she wanted to do right now was take a shower, slip into her robe, and eat about six Symphony bars. The ones with toffee chips.

  “But this is important!”

  Mallory shot her sister a sharp sideways glance, alarmed at the quaver in her voice. “What’s wrong?”

  Lindsey’s sophisticated facade dissolved in tears. “It’s Evan,” she wailed, loud enough to set every dog within a ten-block radius barking.

  Wincing, Mallory ushered her inside, where Lindsey immediately threw herself on the sofa and burst into noisy sobs.

  Mallory sighed in relief. If her sister was still indulging her flair for the dramatic, things couldn’t be too serious.

  Mallory tossed her jacket at the coatrack, then sinking into the familiar comfort of her big overstuffed armchair, kicked off her shoes and tucked her feet up under her. “What’s the problem, Lindsey? What’s Evan done?”

  Lindsey sat up, brushing the tumbled blonde curls away from her face and batting tear-spiked eyelashes. “He’s hiding something from me.”

  “Like what?”

  She widened her big blue eyes. “I don’t know, but I was hoping you’d help me find out.”

  Oh, no, thought Mallory. I am not getting sucked into this one. She shook her head from side to side.

  Lindsey’s expression shifted to a pout. “Please, Mallory.”

  “No.”

  “Just talk to him. He’ll open up to you.”

  “No.”

  “Take him aside at the rehearsal dinner and see if you can get him to tell you what’s going on. He’s been getting all these long-distance phone calls lately. Something’s up.”

  “What kind of something?” Mallory asked, her curiosity getting the better of her good judgment.

  A spasm of embarrassment rippled across Lindsey’s face. “Well, he cheated on you, didn’t he?”

  Did he? Mallory wondered. Can you cheat on someone you’ve never been intimate with in the first place? She shook her head again. “I can’t help you, Linz. It’s none of my business.”

  Lindsey’s pout morphed into a phony smile, and Mallory braced herself for Act Two. “But Mal-lor-ree,” Lindsey started, only to be interrupted by the simultaneous ringing of the telephone and the doorbell.

  “Would you answer that?” Mallory nodded toward the portable phone on the table next to the sofa. “I’ll get the door.” She levered herself out of the chair and walked sock-footed across the room.

  Lindsey answered the phone on the second ring. “Evan!” she said, sounding remarkably cheerful for someone who’d been in tears a few minutes earlier.

  Distracted, Mallory swung the door open without checking the peephole first, then almost swallowed her tongue in surprise when she saw Brody Hunter filling her doorway. He shoved a pizza box at her. “I hope you like pepperoni.”

  The first thing to pop into her head was “Beware of Greeks bearing gifts,” and it was out of her mouth before she had a chance to run it past her internal censor.

  “Not applicable,” he said. “I’m Romanian, remember?”

  “See you soon, darling.” Oblivious to Mallory and her visitor, Lindsey made kissing noises into the phone.

  I may be sick. Mallory flicked a glance up at Brody and nearly laughed out loud at the expression on his face.

  “The man-stealer? “he whispered.

  She nodded, holding a finger to her lips. “Come on in,” she said aloud. “I want you to meet my sister, Lindsey.”

  Lindsey, who had just put down the phone, glanced up at the mention of her name.

  Mallory fought down an attack of the giggles sparked by the dumbstruck expression on her sister’s face. Score one for my team!

  In a leather jacket and faded jeans, Brody Hunter looked handsome as the devil and just about as dangerous.

  Lindsey struggled to her feet. “You’re Hunter? You’re the man Mallory’s been dating?” Her voice was faint.

  “In the flesh,” he said.

  And very nice flesh it was. Grinning, Mallory made the introductions.

  Brody offered his hand. “Pleased to meet you. It’s your wedding Mallory’s dragging me to, right?”

  Lindsey extended one limp hand and nodded mutely, still staring. They shook hands. Her sister appeared to be in shock. Mel Gibson himself couldn’t have elicited a better reaction. Mallory grinned in satisfaction. Poor Mallory, my foot,

  Brody released Lindsey’s hand. A muscle twitched in her cheek, but she managed to muster a polite smile. “And how exactly did you two meet?”

  In a gay bar, Mallory was sorely tempted to say, just to watch her sister’s smile congeal.

  She glanced sideways at Brody. A wicked grin curved his mouth, as if the same idea had occurred to him. Instead, he offered their agreed-upon cover story. “We ran into one another—literally—when Mallory was at police headquarters getting fingerprinted.”

  “Fingerprinted?” Pressing a hand to her throat, Lindsey turned to Mallory with a frown. “Why were you getting fingerprinted? You haven’t been committing any crimes, have you?”

  “No, all Oregon teachers have to be printed,” Mallory explained. “It’s the law.” She set the pizza on the trunk.

  “Really?” Lindsey raised an eyebrow, then glanced at Brody. “But you’re no teacher. Why were you being fingerprinted?”

  “I wasn’t.”

  She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “Then what were you doing at the police station?”

  “Relax, Linz. He’s a cop, not a crook. Detective. Does a lot of undercover work.”

  “I’m good at it too.” Brody smiled. “The undercover work, I mean.” He made himself at home on the love seat. “Got anything to drink, honey?”

  It took Mallory a second or two to realize he was talking to her. “Milk or diet cola. They’re both in the refrigerator. Help yourself.”

  Brody opened the pizza box and the savory odors of tomato sauce and Parmesan reminded Mallory just how hungry she was.

  “I brought a large, so there’s plenty. You’re welcome to join us,” he tol
d Lindsey.

  “No, I was just leaving. Thanks anyway. Walk me to the car, Mai?” It was more a demand than a question.

  Mallory slipped her shoes on and followed Lindsey, pausing at the door to glance back at Brody. He winked, then added in a voice loud enough for Lindsey to overhear, “Don’t be too long, honey. It’s never as good when it’s cold.”

  Lindsey clattered down the steps to the Lexus parked in the driveway. Once there, she whipped around to confront Mallory. “Are you sure that guy’s a cop?”

  Mallory laughed. “Yes, of course.”

  “There’s no ‘of course’ about it!” Lindsey tapped one foot in an impatient rhythm. “I’ve seen pictures of cold-blooded killers who looked less dangerous.”

  “With Brody, the only danger’s the possibility of falling in love. A lousy idea, since he’s not the marrying type.

  “Marrying?” Lindsey gasped. “Marrying! Don’t even think about it. Mother and Daddy would go ballistic if you brought home a man like that. I can see now why you’ve been so evasive.”

  Mallory wasn’t the actress her sister was, but she managed a shamefaced look. “I guess my secret’s out now.” She heaved an exaggerated sigh. “But you have to admit he’s gorgeous.”

  “If you go for the uncivilized macho-man type.” Lindsey’s expression made it clear that she didn’t.

  Not only had Brody retrieved a couple of glasses and a two-liter bottle of pop from the kitchen, he’d also finished his first slice of pizza and started on his second before Mallory made it back inside.

  Her triumphant grin lit up the room as she closed the door behind her. “She bought it. ‘Poor rejected, over-the-hill Mallory’ just got upgraded to ‘poor deluded, in-love-with-the-wrong-man Mallory.’”

  “I’m the wrong man?” Brody did his best to look offended.

  “Wrong for my family anyway.” Mallory snagged a slice of pizza and settled back in the armchair. “Daddy’s suspicious of anyone who wasn’t born and raised in Brunswick, and my mother’s prejudiced against men who have more hair than she does.”