Just his luck he’d met her while sporting a bad case of bed head and a day-old beard. Oh, and the glasses. He still couldn’t see shit without them. He’d never had a hangover last this long, but his eyes should be okay in a couple of hours. Then he’d ditch the glasses and make his play.
He had to admit they’d gotten off to a really bad start, with her thinking he was a serial killer. And his one compliment, that she had pretty hair, had been totally lame. He was generally smoother than that. Maybe the wine last night had killed off a few brain cells.
Funny, but he didn’t have a headache. Taking the dirt road leading to his house faster than normal bounced him around some, but it didn’t make his head hurt. The little cottage where he lived belonged to Clem Loudermilk, the richest guy in Big Knob. Clem held the patent on a type of cleavage-enhancing bra that had made him a fortune.
Fortune in hand, Clem had built a brand-new house farther up the hill. It wouldn’t do to have the access road go past the old cottage, so Clem had paved a new lane down to the main road with security gates at the end of it. Then he’d put in a set of 106 steps that descended the hill from his house down to the cottage, so he could go check on how it was doing.
The cottage was doing great, because in exchange for living in Clem’s old house, Sean was gradually repairing everything and bringing it up to code. Clem had obviously made the trek down the steps this morning, because he was crouched down peering through the latticework covering the crawl space when Sean drove up.
Clem stood with a groan of discomfort as Sean climbed down from his truck. Clem was a round little guy who didn’t dress like a rich man and probably never would. He’d invented the bra as a service to his wife, and he was the first to tell anyone that it had been pure luck that some lingerie company had picked it up.
‘‘We need to do something about those skunks,’’ Clem said as Sean walked toward him.
‘‘I will. Before I move out they’ll be gone.’’ And not one day sooner. He didn’t want them hurt, so he planned to trap them and take them out to a part of the woods near the granite outcropping of Big Knob itself.
He’d picked out the perfect spot, in an area the pioneers had named the Whispering Forest. Everyone in town thought the place was haunted. There were tall tales about disembodied eyes, strange noises and the smell of smoke when there were no visible campfires.
Some claimed they’d heard the whispers that had given the forest its name. They swore it was not the sound of wind through the trees, but spooky words breathed into their ears. Although the state allowed hunting in Whispering Forest, hunters looking to bag a rabbit or a deer said their guns jammed whenever they tried to shoot anything.
Sean thought the stories were ridiculous, but the rumors made it the perfect hideaway for the skunks. No one would bother them there. They were a family, and he’d do his best to keep them together.
‘‘I’m worried about them migrating up to the big house,’’ Clem said. ‘‘Clara wouldn’t like that. They might get tangled up with Bud.’’ Bud was Clara’s Chihuahua, and a tougher little cuss Sean had never met.
‘‘They seem to stay close to home,’’ Sean said. But if Clara was on a kick, he might have to relocate them sooner than he’d planned. Once Clara started pestering Clem, he was moved to action. That was how he’d ended up inventing the bra.
‘‘Even so.’’ Clem rubbed his chin and gazed at the roofline of his three-story house, which was barely visible through the trees. Then he took a closer look at Sean. ‘‘I hate to say it, but you look like hell, boy.’’
‘‘I know. I’m headed inside for a shower and a shave.’’
‘‘That would be a good idea. What’s with the glasses? Some new fad I ain’t heard about?’’
‘‘Oh.’’ Sean took them off to see if the world still looked blurry without them. It did. Maybe they weren’t clear lenses, after all, and they were screwing up his eyes. He’d leave them off for a while. ‘‘Just a joke. I forgot I had them on.’’
Clem nodded. ‘‘Must have been some night.’’
‘‘Just dinner and drinks with a couple of friends. I ate and drank way too much, so they offered me the sofa and I took it.’’
‘‘You gotta watch out for that stuff. You’re at the age when your metabolism slows down and you start putting on weight. Before you know it, you’ll look like me, and then it’s hell to take it off again.’’
‘‘I’ll keep that in mind.’’
‘‘And do something about the skunks. If they get tangled up with Bud, we got us a big problem. See you later.’’ Clem started back up the steps to his house.
Sean watched him go. He wouldn’t be surprised if Clem kept the cottage as his personal hidey-hole after Sean left. Clara had always been bossy, but once she got cleavage thanks to Clem’s invention, she’d become unstoppable.
Sean called out a greeting to the skunks before he went inside. He had no idea if they understood or paid any attention, but he liked to think they appreciated being left alone. They’d never smelled up the place, not even slightly.
Inside the cottage he took a deep breath of freshly cut wood, thanks to the cedar wainscoting and cabinets he’d put in last month. His furniture was nothing to write home about, but the carpentry was primo, if he did say so himself. Someday he’d build himself some furniture, but for now he was too busy.
Shucking clothes as he went, he headed for the bathroom. He’d set up a mirror in the shower so he could shave and shower at the same time. He didn’t realize until he was standing in the warm spray, ready to shave, that he couldn’t see well enough to do it.
He stepped out of the shower and went in search of the glasses, shivering and dripping water on the floor. What a pain. Surely he wouldn’t be forced to wear them much longer, but for now, seeing well enough to shave was a priority. He couldn’t get anywhere with Maggie Grady if he looked like a homeless person.
Back in the warm shower, he lathered up and stroked the razor across his chin. The glasses kept fogging up, but eventually he got the job done. Then he washed his hair, which seemed much more coarse than usual.
At least his body was still fit . . . or was it? He gazed down at what he remembered as rock-hard abs. Now not so much. Farther down—now, this had to be an optical illusion—his dick looked smaller.
Getting out of the shower again, still dripping water, he tried to see himself in the medicine cabinet mirror. He didn’t own a full-length mirror, had always considered that a vain thing to have. But without a full-length mirror, he was forced to climb on a stepstool so he could get the full picture, section by section.
The view wasn’t encouraging. Surely he’d had more muscle definition yesterday. If not, why had six different women tried to hit on him? He’d been a stud muffin yesterday, but this morning, average Joe.
As he moved up and down the stepstool trying to decide if the mirror was flawed, his cell phone rang. He dried his hands, walked into the bedroom and picked it up off the dresser. He didn’t recognize the number, but he answered, anyway.
Ambrose’s voice came on the line. ‘‘How are you feeling?’’
‘‘Strange, if you must know. I can’t see anything without the glasses you gave me, but that could be from a hangover. What I didn’t realize is that I’ve apparently let myself get out of shape. On top of that my hair decided to go wacko on me this morning. . . .’’ A horrible thought came to him. But no, that was too wild.
‘‘The herbal supplements must be working!’’ Ambrose sounded tickled to death. ‘‘Dorcas will be thrilled.’’
‘‘You did this?’’ In a way he was relieved to know he wasn’t slowly falling apart, but he didn’t remember taking any herbal supplements. ‘‘What supplements?’’
‘‘Dorcas mixed a few things in with what you were eating and drinking last night. She thought that would be the easiest route to go. We expected that you’d stay around for breakfast so we could discuss the changes, but—’’
‘‘Hold o
n a minute. Herbs take a long time to work. This was overnight.’’
‘‘The brandy acts as a booster. Also the cocoa in the cake.’’
‘‘But you drank the brandy and ate the cake!’’
‘‘Just a little. But it’s a peculiar thing with these types of herbs. They work differently depending on your body composition and your . . . well, your mental attitude. I’m sure you’ve heard about the mind-body connection.’’
It sounded like California woo-woo stuff to Sean. ‘‘You should have told me what you were doing.’’
‘‘To be truthful, we didn’t know if it would work. Dorcas had never tried this sort of po—uh, combination of herbs before. She was a little afraid that you’d actually end up looking better instead of worse. Thank goodness we lucked out and that didn’t happen.’’ He hesitated. ‘‘This is what you wanted, isn’t it? I mean, you’re not sexy anymore, right?’’
‘‘I guess so, but I didn’t really imagine . . . My eyes are part of it, too, aren’t they?’’ He tried not to panic. There was probably some antidote he could take.
‘‘It’s better if you really need the glasses than if you’re faking it. People can tell if the glasses aren’t necessary.’’
Sean rubbed his forehead. The headache he’d been expecting after drinking all that wine had finally arrived. ‘‘Okay, maybe I did ask for this, but something’s come up, and I want the effects reversed. Mix up whatever you need to. I’ll be over in fifteen minutes. I don’t care what it tastes like, so long as it puts me back the way I was.’’
‘‘Hey, Dorcas is good, but she’s not that good.’’
In spite of standing there dripping wet in a cold room, Sean began to sweat. ‘‘What do you mean?’’
‘‘She made that concoction with some very rare herbs and she used up her entire supply. Gathering the herbs to reverse it would be next to impossible. She’d have to send away for some things, and a few of them might not be available this time of year. I’m afraid you’ll have to let it wear off.’’
‘‘And how long will that be? A day or so?’’ He could deal with twenty-four hours. Maggie would still be here, and he could take command of the situation then.
‘‘Probably about two weeks, give or take.’’
‘‘Two weeks?’’ Sean began to hyperventilate. ‘‘No, no, that’s way too long. You have no idea what’s on the line here. I just met someone.’’
‘‘Really? Who?’’
‘‘You wouldn’t know her, but she wants to buy my family’s old property and put up a store. Plus she’s really hot, and if I looked the way I used to, I’m sure I could talk her into dropping the whole idea.’’
‘‘Man, I wish I could help you, but there’s no way.’’ Ambrose didn’t sound as sorry as maybe he should have, considering. ‘‘I guess you’ll have to work with what you have for the next couple of weeks.’’
Sean felt desperation clawing at his insides. ‘‘You don’t understand. She’s after the property I want. Ever hear that old song about paving paradise so they can build a parking lot? That’s what she plans to do!’’
‘‘I’ll bet you can change her mind.’’
‘‘Not like this.’’
‘‘Why not?’’
‘‘Because . . . because . . .’’ He couldn’t bring himself to admit that sometimes he’d counted on his good looks to get him what he wanted. He’d asked Dorcas and Ambrose to transform him so he could be something besides a sex symbol. Obviously he was no longer a sex symbol, but who was he?
Maggie drove back into town and parked between the diagonal white lines in front of Big Knob Realty. Now that she’d achieved her first goal of inspecting the property, she became aware of other needs she’d shoved into the background. She could use a bathroom, a cup of hot coffee, something to eat and a place to sleep tonight. She hoped Denise decided to open up early this morning.
About twenty minutes later, a dark-haired woman in her forties parked next to her and walked toward the real estate office with a key in her hand. Maggie sighed in relief. Opening her car door, she called out to the woman. ‘‘Denise?’’
The woman turned and smiled. ‘‘I wondered if you were Maggie. I didn’t recognize you or the car. In Big Knob we know everybody and their vehicles.’’
Maggie got out of the Escort and locked it from habit. Probably didn’t need to in Big Knob. ‘‘Then you must know a guy in his late twenties who drives an old blue truck.’’
Denise’s smile turned to a scowl. ‘‘I do. That’s Sean Madigan. Very full of himself, which comes from being a hottie all his life.’’
‘‘Uh, yeah, I guess.’’ Apparently Maggie would have to adjust to a different set of standards while she was here. If Sean was considered a hottie in Big Knob, she held out little hope for the rest of the male population.
Denise unlocked the office door and gestured Maggie inside, flipping on the overhead lights as she followed her. The lights flickered for a moment, and Denise paused to glance upward.
When they stopped flickering and stayed on, she took off her coat and hung it on the coatrack by the door. ‘‘Where did you meet Sean?’’
‘‘I drove out to the property, and he showed up soon after I got there.’’
‘‘I’ll just bet he did.’’ Denise looked triumphant. ‘‘He wants to buy that piece of land.’’
‘‘Really? But surely he doesn’t have the money.’’
‘‘Don’t be fooled by the old rattletrap he drives. He doesn’t buy new things because he’s socking money away for a down payment.’’
‘‘Oh.’’ That explained a lot about his reaction to her. She must be his worst nightmare. The comment about her hair must have been an attempt at flattery, in case he could woo her away from her plan. As if.
The information also cast Denise in an interesting light. ‘‘You know all this, and yet you e-mailed me late yesterday afternoon about buying the property.’’
‘‘I most certainly did. It was serendipity. I just happened to see a pop-up ad for SaveALot on my computer yesterday afternoon, so I tracked you down through the SaveALot Web site.’’
‘‘Why me? We have other location scouts.’’
‘‘They were all men. I wanted a woman to have a crack at this.’’
Maggie didn’t have to work very hard to figure out what was going on. She was part of a revenge plot, not that it was anything to her. She didn’t care about Denise’s ulterior motives, as long as the sale went through and Maggie got the credit for landing a prime location.
‘‘Give me a minute and I’ll have some coffee for us. I have a one-woman operation here. Don’t even have a secretary.’’
‘‘It’s not all bad, being your own boss.’’ Maggie could see the advantages. No H.G. breathing down your neck. She hung her trench coat on the rack alongside Denise’s coat. ‘‘If I could use your bathroom, I’d be a very grateful woman.’’
‘‘Sure thing.’’ Denise filled the coffee carafe at the watercooler. ‘‘By the time you get back, I’ll have coffee made and the computer up and running. I’m expecting an e-mail confirming ownership of the property.’’
In the bathroom Maggie turned on the light, which also flickered before coming on. The building had to be at least fifty or sixty years old, maybe more. No telling what shape the wiring was in.
Fortunately the plumbing worked fine. She took time to repair her makeup and put her frizzy hair into a clip buried at the bottom of her purse. She needed a haircut, but she’d been putting it off, and now she wished she hadn’t. Her hair looked like a rusty Brillo pad.
With a sigh, she cleaned her glasses and put them back on. She hadn’t made a huge improvement, but that was as good as it was going to get today without a hair salon appointment.
As she reached for the knob on the bathroom door, she heard an argument start up between Denise and some man. The voice sounded familiar and she hesitated, trying to place it. Once she did, she felt like hanging out a while longer in the b
athroom. She had no desire to meet Sean Madigan again now that she knew both of them were after the same piece of land.
She didn’t care how long he’d been saving his money, or what his reasons were for wanting the property. He’d ticked off Denise for some reason, and he’d have to pay the price for that. She knew what it was like to have something you wanted taken away, but this time she wouldn’t be the one dealing with failure. Let the other guy fail.
So what was she doing hiding in the bathroom? A tough cookie would go right out there and stare down this local Romeo. She’d let him know that he didn’t stand a chance in hell of getting that property, so he might as well give up right now.
She opened the door, but she was still hidden by a partition that screened off the back area of the office.
‘‘I got held up yesterday afternoon!’’ Sean said. ‘‘I would have come by, but—’’
‘‘You had your chance in the morning.’’ Denise’s voice was tight with anger. ‘‘I thought we were working together, but you blew me off. And by the way, I’ve never seen you in those glasses. Have you been wearing contacts all this time and nobody ever knew?’’
‘‘No. I—never mind the glasses. You have to squelch this deal you have going. You have to do something.’’
‘‘Too late, buddy boy. And what’s up with your hair? It’s sticking out in ten different directions.’’
‘‘To hell with my hair. Damn it, Denise, she can’t get that property! It’s not just me I’m thinking about—it’s Big Knob. That SaveALot store will ruin—’’
Maggie walked out into the office. ‘‘Hello, Sean.’’
He cleared his throat. ‘‘You . . . found out my name.’’ He’d shaved and made some attempt to get his hair to behave, but until he got a decent haircut there was no hope for it. Of course, she should talk.
‘‘Yes, I asked Denise who you were.’’ You are the enemy, and I will crush you like a bug. ‘‘For your information, I am going to buy the property, and it will bring jobs and more tourist traffic to Big Knob. There may be a few people, like you, who aren’t in favor of the project, but rest assured that many people will love the idea. So back off.’’
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