by Robyn Grady
Shelby thought of her own father, an anchor, a safe guiding light.
“I don’t hate men,” she said. “But I am steering clear for a while.”
“I wouldn’t have thought so the way you were looking at Dex yesterday. Nothing to be ashamed of. If a guy like him showed me that kind of interest, I’d melt like milk chocolate on a grill.”
Heat suffusing her cheeks, Shelby pushed in a final chair. “There’s work to do. Lunch rush’ll be pouring in soon.”
“Wouldn’t it be a fairy tale come true if you two fell in love, got engaged—”
Shelby snapped out her cloth. “No fairy tale happening here.” Given that she’d confided in her friend about that embarrassing predicament back home, Lila ought to know she wasn’t thinking that way. Or shouldn’t be. “I’ll work for Dex Hunter on a purely professional basis or I won’t work for him at all.”
“Great we got that all cleared up.”
At the sound of that amused, masculine voice and the sudden stunned look on Lila’s face, Shelby held her breath and slowly turned around. Dressed in jeans and a casual button-down, Dex stood before her, a teasing smile slanting his lips. He looked so laid-back, weight on one leg, shoulders angled, and yet those tawny eyes held that same intensity…the same knowledge and hunger that had left her legs feeling as wobbly as Jell-O last night when they’d parted.
None of that changed the fact she’d meant what she’d said. She wasn’t interested in romance. She wasn’t concerned about his broad, hard chest, his palpable sex appeal…that entrancing bone-melting smile.
Shelby mentally shook herself. What was he doing here anyway?
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “You’re perspiring.” Beads of sweat were glistening high on his brow.
“It’s a hot day.” He wound his already folded cuffs up another turn as if to prove it. “I just dropped by to say there’s been a change of plans.”
“Tate’s not coming?”
Mother hen Lila stepped in. “You do realize she’s resigned. The boss kicked the wall and said she could leave now except he’d be short for the lunch rush.”
“Tate’s still coming out,” Dex assured them both. “In fact, he’ll be here late tomorrow.”
“Last night you said a week.”
Dex folded into a chair. “I phoned Sydney this morning to…arrange some things. Cole, the brother stationed in Australia, is set to leave on a sabbatical. He wanted Tate’s trip signed and sealed before he left. My father agreed.”
“Suddenly you don’t look so happy about it.”
“I had some other news last night,” Dex explained as Lila laid a coffee before him then hung around to wipe an already sparkling table. “I need other accommodations until a minor problem’s sorted at my place.”
“Problem as in plumbing or a hole in the roof?”
“More like rodents in the basement.” His pensive gaze flicked up from his steaming cup. “I’ve organized a suite in town. I’d like you to help me get the place organized.”
One minute she was a waitress, next she was being whisked away to a hotel by a multimillionaire. She had to catch her breath. Shelby slid into the seat beside him.
Behind them, her boss’s unhappy voice ground out.
“Those chairs are for patrons only.”
Shelby jumped up. Mr. Connor’s usually nonexistent jaw was jutting. On either side of a bulbous nose, his small dark eyes narrowed. He addressed his remarks to Dex.
“She’s here to serve tables. You’re a good customer, but I have a business to run.”
Dex got to his feet. “Shelby was taking my order.”
Connor exhaled as if he’d heard it all before. “Look, we don’t run that kind of establishment. If you want to—you know—chat, there are other places for that.”
Shelby’s temper flared. Did Connor call her what she thought he’d just called her? She stuck out her own chin.
“Now wait a minute—”
Dex held up a hand. “Let me handle this.” He addressed Connor. “Obviously that isn’t the kind of discussion I’m having with Ms. Scott.”
“It looked pretty cozy to me,” Connor replied. “Particularly after your nice long talk yesterday.” He eyed Shelby. “Don’t think I didn’t notice.”
“I’ve offered Shelby employment,” Dex said. “I believe she passed on her resignation to you this morning.”
“So it was you.” Connor narrowed his gaze again. “Sure. She resigned, but I still have her till the end of the week.”
“I was hoping,” Dex continued, “that you might consider releasing her earlier than that.”
“Like when?”
“Like now.”
Connor shrugged. “Like I said, I have a business to run.”
Dex drew out his wallet. “I’m sure we can come to some arrangement—”
“I don’t want your money.”
Dex scratched his temple. “We need to settle this somehow…” He peeled off a few big bills.
Connor sniffed, then put out his palm. “Fine. But I’ll warn you. She’s not worth it.”
While Dex’s expression darkened, Shelby shrank back. She might want to deck Connor, but she suspected Dex just might do it. But then a crooked smile eased up one corner of Dex’s mouth and he stuffed the notes down the front of Mr. Connor’s Hawaiian-print shirt.
“That amount should cover any inconvenience or losses to your establishment. Now, I’m sure we’d all prefer that this parting be amicable.” His voice dropped and hardened. “Doesn’t have to be.” He peeled off another couple bills and offered them to Lila. “Thanks for the impeccable service in the past. I’ve enjoyed the food, even if your boss is a jerk.”
* * *
He asked Shelby to get her handbag. It took her ten seconds. When she was back, he grabbed her hand. She kept up as he headed out of the shop and down the busy sidewalk.
“Connor’s face was blotched, he was so mad,” she said.
“Connor’s an oaf.”
“Do you usually give oafs huge amounts of money to shut them up?”
“No, I don’t. But it was either that or shut him up another way.” Connor was lucky he hadn’t collected a broken jaw. Dex dragged a palm across his growling stomach and winced. “Damn, I’m hungry.”
“You get hungry when you’re mad?”
Usually he didn’t get angry.
“Must be some primitive instinct to refuel before and after battle, I guess.”
“When I want to let go and punch something,” she said as they strode past people strolling on either side of them, “I jump on my horse and take a long hard ride.”
“Not as good as knocking back a stack of pancakes.”
“Much better for the waistline.”
He paused and glanced at her. She looked hotter in that uniform than he remembered. Even in a burlap bag, Shelby’s assortment of curves would be difficult to dismiss. Pretty much impossible to forget. Her waistline had nothing to worry about.
Their stride had slowed. And he was still holding her hand. Clearing his throat, he let go.
“Have you hired an exterminator for the rodents?” she asked, shaking out her fingers. He must have been holding them tight.
“I’m not sure which method to take. Bait or blast.”
“Sounds nasty.”
“Nothing you or Tate will ever need to worry about.” He rubbed his hands together. “Now let’s get organized. We’ll make a list. Groceries can be delivered to the suite.”
“I’ll personally choose any food to be prepared. You have to keep a close eye on what kids eat.”
“I’m sure the delivery service has that covered.”
“But I like to walk up and down the aisles.”
He scratched his hea
d. “Why?”
“I won’t know everything I need until I see it.”
Sounded like a lot of work to him, but her mind seemed set so they found a market and gathered up staples—bread, eggs, meat, Oreos. And fresh vegetables, including spinach. Shelby insisted greens were important for a growing boy. So long as she didn’t expect him to put any of that Popeye food near his plate.
Later, they arrived at the Beverly Hills Hotel. After porters collected the groceries, the valet parked the car and Dex checked in. They arrived at their suite at the same time as the porters. In the kitchen a moment later, he opened the first grocery bag and shuddered.
Shelby craned to see. “The way you screw up your nose around spinach, anyone would think it was covered in slime.”
“That’s exactly what it’s like when it’s cooked.”
“It’s packed full of vitamins.”
“You sound like an advertisement.”
She drew out a bag of carrots with the green bits still attached. “These are great for adding fiber to your diet. Vitamin A, too.”
“I’m more your potato-done-any-way kind of man. I’ve never met a curly fry I didn’t like.”
A stack of cans in hand, she twirled around, found the pantry and headed over. “I make my own brand of fries. Hopefully you won’t have to worry about feeding them to the dog under the table.”
“I don’t have a dog and you don’t have to cook.”
“Not even my specialty? Inch-thick seared juicy steak?”
He held his empty stomach. “You dare to talk that way when you know my condition?” He picked up a carton of cream. “Where are you on desserts?”
“I believe every day should end with wrapping your lips around something satisfyingly sweet.”
His gaze dipped to her hips. Well, they were in agreement there.
She turned away from the pantry while he was on his way to the fridge, and they bumped into each other. He wound a steadying arm around her. The contact was harmless; she even laughed when he said, “We’ll have to stop meeting like this.” But he was acutely aware of his blood pumping way faster than it should. Of her breasts accidentally brushing his chest.
Moving apart, they each continued with their task.
“I forgot to say that your friend found me at the café this morning,” she said. “He stopped by before heading out of town.”
Wondering where to put the cured salami sausage, Dex frowned across at her. “You mean Rance?”
“He asked if I wanted a job as his assistant.” She picked up a tub of butter. “I was flattered.”
“But you didn’t accept.”
“I could be wrong but I think Mr. Loggins wants more in an assistant than I’m prepared to give. I even told him that. He didn’t really answer, except to smile.”
It wasn’t hard to see that Rance was smitten. Although Dex would concede: Shelby did show promise as a script doctor.
She put the carton away in the fridge then found his gaze again.
“If I ask you something,” she began, “will you tell me the truth?”
“Sure.”
“You don’t really have rats in your basement, do you?” When he hesitated, she qualified. “Long skinny tails. Hunched furry bodies. Tiny white fangs.”
Leaning back against the opposite counter, Dex crossed his arms. Last night he’d wondered if the threats he’d received might somehow be linked to his father’s trouble. But he’d soon reverted to his earlier conclusion. The situations were unrelated. Whoever lay behind these extortion attempts was a coward. A lowlife who, Dex believed, didn’t have the guts to confront him face-to-face.
He wished he could turn back time. Change things.
Three years ago, his friend Joel Chase had broken down and sworn that, while he’d gone to that building with revenge on his mind, at the eleventh hour he’d had a change of heart. Unfortunately, rather than blow out the lit match, he had fumbled. The accelerant had done the rest. Dex had never been so torn in his life. How many others found themselves in that kind of predicament? Given no one was hurt, and Joel had been filled with remorse, he’d kept his mouth shut. Now, as then, Joel had way more to lose than Dex if the truth ever got out.
But this storm would pass. It must, because Dex would pirouette in public dressed in nothing but a pink tutu before handing over blackmail money to anyone for any reason. If Tate wasn’t coming to visit, Dex would have stayed put, laid a trap and confronted the creep if he dared to pull any more sick pranks. For now it was enough that he’d had those surveillance cameras hooked up.
He answered Shelby’s question about rats. “Let’s just say I needed to get out of that place for a while.”
“If there’s something you should tell me,” Shelby pushed, “best tell me now.”
“There’s nothing for you to worry about.”
“I have this prickly feeling running up my back, and I’ve learned to listen when that happens.”
“There was a time when you didn’t listen?”
She blinked, recovered, then found a container of coffee. “We’re not talking about me.”
As she put the coffee away, Dex unraveled his arms. He hadn’t meant to spook her, but now he hoped she’d let those other questions drop. Although, frankly, he’d still like some answers about her past. Did her earlier prickling feelings involve Reese and Kurt?
She crunched up the last empty grocery bag and dropped it in the trash. “Done and finished.”
He pushed off the counter. “Let’s check out the place.”
The living space was roomy. White walls and carpet—probably unwise with a young boy crashing around the place. Facing the plasma screen TV and elevated view of the palm-lined pool and cabanas, the U-shaped dark leather sofa was huge. He read Shelby’s face. Comfortable. Low-maintenance. She moved to the glass doors.
“Can we have the outdoor table and chairs put away somewhere?” she asked.
A good safety measure for curious kids who could climb like monkeys.
“Consider it done,” he said.
She turned to face him and, with the afternoon sun slanting in, her hair looked as if it were threaded with strands of shining copper.
“Why did you choose a suite in a hotel rather than a house?” she asked.
He dragged his gaze away from her glowing silhouette to concentrate. “Tate’ll have everything he needs. A pool and swings and a big playroom.” And first-class security. He studied the giant plasma. “We’ll need games and controls.”
“I’d prefer games we can play together. Books, paints and blocks, too.”
His chest grew warm at a memory…he and Cole and their mom building wobbling towers that more often than not tumbled down before they were finished. Then they’d sigh—or clap and laugh—and do it all again.
“You’re old-fashioned,” he said.
“It’s called being involved.”
“Are you?”
Perplexed, she laughed. “Of course. I get involved with any child I care for.”
Actually he’d meant romantically involved and, although she avoided commenting more by going to check out the playroom situation, he suspected that she knew it.
Five
Two days later at an LAX arrivals gate, Shelby’s heart almost burst watching Dex sweep his cute-as-a-button brother up into the air and swirl him around.
“How was the flight?” he asked an excited Tate, whose face was split with a grin. “Were the crew good to you?”
“Daddy got a special lady to sit by me the whole way.” Tate waggled a finger toward the stream of passengers pouring out from the gate. “That’s her.”
A woman sauntered over. She was of average height but that was as far as average went. Her thick ash-blond hair was drawn into a luxurious ponytail t
hat flowed over one shoulder and down to her waist. Her eyes were big, widely spaced and a startling ice-blue. Toned arms and lithe build said keeping in shape was her lifestyle of choice. But that aura of confidence was her best quality. Proud and assured, she might have owned the world and would just as happily have given it away.
Meanwhile, Dex looked blindsided. “No one told me…”
Coming closer, the woman threw up her hands. “We wanted to surprise you, you big dope.”
Tate held his stomach; he was giggling that hard. “Your mouth dropped all the way down,” he told Dex and then showed him a five-year-old’s interpretation of stunned—eyes crossed, tongue out.
Growling playfully, Dex gave the woman a huge hug. “What are you doing here?”
“I flew out to Sydney to see how Dad was doing,” the woman—Dex’s sister?—said. “Dad was stressing about getting Tate over here with you as soon as possible. So we pushed it all forward, I volunteered to chaperone and here we are.”
Shelby digested it all…but couldn’t figure out why Guthrie Hunter should be so anxious about organizing his youngest son’s visit to L.A. This was just a vacation, right?
Bouncing Tate up onto his hip, Dex remembered introductions. “Teagan, meet Shelby.”
Shelby smiled, nodded. “Shelby Scott.”
“Shelby’s new to town,” Dex said. “She’s offered to help me look after this little guy while he’s here visiting.”
While Dex ruffled his brother’s hair, Shelby stepped closer to say hello. His eyes were the same unusual tawny color as Dex’s but without the flashes of blue.
“Your brother showed me a video of you splashing around in some waves,” she said.
“I love the beach,” Tate told her. “I’m a nipper now.”
“A junior lifesaver?” Dex held up his hand for a high five. “Way to go!”
Teagan asked, “So how long have you two been dating?”
“No, no,” Shelby said at the same time Dex hurried to explain. “I’ve employed Shelby to be Tate’s nanny.”
“Oh. I just assumed…” Teagan’s quizzical expression evaporated on a big smile. “Well, it’s great to meet you.”