Operation Prince Charming

by Phyllis Bourne

  He reached for his wallet and signaled for the waiter. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “The meal’s already taken care of,” she said.

  Hunter dropped a generous tip on the table. “Now let’s go.”

  Excitement thrummed through her, but Ali rationalized it was over the meal, not the man.

  “But…I drove. My car,” she said when they got to the lot.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “You can ride over with me, and I’ll swing you back by here after dinner.”

  Hunter opened the passenger door of a black muscle car. He must have noticed her hesitation. “It’s okay. I’m a cop as well as your top student,” he quipped. “You can trust me.”

  It’s not you I’m worried about, she thought as she eased into the butter-smooth bucket seat. The car’s interior smelled of leather upholstery mingled with the fresh, clean scent of his cologne. Hunter slid into the seat next to her, making her instantly aware of him in the car’s confined cabin.

  “Real food, here we come,” he said, putting the powerful car into gear.

  Ali usually passed a few restaurants touting down-home cooking on the short drive from her apartment to the school and back, but had yet to try one.

  If the food at the place he was taking her to was as good as Hunter described, she’d be more than happy to forgo the processed frozen meals she ate on a regular basis.

  “You cook?” Hunter asked.

  “No,” Ali said with a chuckle. “Spencer women may have many talents, but cooking isn’t one of them. I can’t cook. My aunt can’t cook, but don’t tell her that, and neither could my grandma. My dad used to say it’s a curse.”

  Hunter laughed aloud as he eased the car to a stop at a red light. “So, what does the man in your life think about that?”

  An awkward silence ensued.

  “Hey, sorry about that,” he said. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “No, it’s okay. I’m divorced,” she said. “My ex-husband and I ate out a lot.”

  Ali gazed out of the window, as the brightly lit busy streets gave way to subdivisions with cookie-cutter houses flanked by tree-lined streets and manicured lawns.

  “Where are we going? I don’t see any restaurants around here?” She felt foolish for not asking the question sooner.

  “We’re here.” He pulled in front of a brick ranch-style house. Two SUVs were parked side by side in the driveway, while two kid’s bicycles and a trike were strewn haphazardly on the postage-stamp lawn.

  Ali stiffened in the passenger seat.

  “But I’d assumed we were going to another restaurant,” she said. “I just can’t barge in on people I don’t know.”

  “Yes, you can.” He came around and held open the passenger-side door. “You’re with me, so just consider yourself among friends.”

  Still, Ali was apprehensive about walking up to a stranger’s door at dinnertime empty-handed and looking for a meal. Her aunt would be appalled if she could see her right now.

  The front door of the house opened before they made it halfway up the drive, and three little boys charged toward Hunter shouting his name.

  “Hey, guys,” Hunter said. He rubbed the older boys’ heads and tucked the smallest one under his arm like a football.

  A harried woman, dressed in a denim skirt, T-shirt, and Crocs, came to the door, a dish towel in one hand and another anchored on her hip. “Boys!” She barked the word like a drill sergeant to new recruits. “Stop climbing all over Hunter and go wash your hands for dinner.”

  “Aww, Mom,” the biggest one grumbled, reluctantly releasing his grip on Hunter’s pants leg.

  “And get those bikes off the grass and in the garage where they belong,” she added. “N.O.W.”

  “What does that spell?” the youngest one asked as Hunter set him back on his feet.

  “Now,” the middle kid said resignedly, up-righting a red bike with training wheels and rolling it toward the garage.

  With her boys doing her bidding, the woman turned to Hunter. Her eyes twinkled as her pretty, ebony face broke out in a huge smile. “Just in time for dinner,” she said.

  “Pete taunted me with your pot roast all day long.”

  “That’s why I always make plenty. And I see you brought company,” she said, smiling at Ali.

  “Ali Spencer, this is Sandy Jameson. She’s my friend and coworker Pete’s wife, and the little guys putting away their bikes are their sons.”

  “Glad you came, Ali. As you can see, I’m outnumbered. It’s always good to have another girl around. Come on in.”

  “Are you sure this isn’t an imposition?” Ali asked, still uncomfortable with the idea. “I know you weren’t expecting an extra mouth to feed.”

  “It’s no problem. My Crock-Pot and bread-making machine did all the work.” The woman looped her arm through hers, and Ali willed her body to relax.

  As deep as the wound her husband’s cheating had made, in some ways the betrayal of her best friend hurt more. Not to mention the friends who’d abandoned her once the tabloids printed those lies.

  The episode had not only made her wary of other people’s intentions, but it made her question her own instincts as well.

  Oblivious of her hesitation, Sandy pulled her in the direction of the house. “It’s good to see Hunter out with someone new, but you didn’t have to get all dressed up,” she said in a low voice meant only for Ali’s ears.

  “But we’re not—”

  “Pete,” Sandy yelled for her husband, cutting Ali off. “We’ve got company.”

  Chapter Six

  Hunter saw the sidelong glance Sandy exchanged with her husband and knew he had to set them straight.

  He should have made it clear there was nothing romantic going on between him and Ali the moment they’d arrived, but the smell of real food had hit him as soon as he’d walked through the door and they’d all been too busy stuffing their faces to talk.

  Also, the couple’s boisterous boys had kept them entertained throughout the meal with meandering stories and jokes with forgotten punch lines.

  “Then Nate squirted juice through his nose,” one of the boys said, sending his brothers into guffaws of laughter.

  Sandy smiled at their antics and shook her head, before turning her attention to him and Ali. “So, how long have you two been seeing each other?” she asked.

  Her question caught him with his mouthful of dessert.

  “Oh, it’s nothing like that,” Ali said.

  “Ali’s new in town,” Hunter explained. “I was bragging on your cooking. When I found out she’d been existing on frozen dinners, I took the liberty of bringing her along.”

  “So, how’d you two meet?” Sandy asked.

  “He’s my student,” Ali said before he could answer.

  A puzzled look creased Sandy’s brow. “Student?” She looked across the dining room table at him. “Pete never mentioned you were taking a class. What are you studying?”

  “Aw, man,” Pete groaned.

  “Just a little self-improvement course,” Hunter said hurriedly in an attempt to save his friend’s bacon.

  “Yeah, no big deal,” Pete added, jamming a huge forkful of cake into his mouth.

  Sandy arched one eyebrow and leaned forward. “So, Ali, what do you teach?”

  Ali gave Hunter a questioning glance, before turning to their hostess. “Etiquette. Hunter’s one of my new students,” she said.

  Instantly, Sandy yanked her elbows off the table and smoothed the paper napkin on her lap. “Boys, stop licking your fingers and use your napkins,” she hissed at her sons, who continued to happily scoop up the creamy white icing with their fingers and stick them in their mouths. “And sit up straight,” she added to no avail.

  Sandy turned her attention to her husband. “You see what kind of example you’re setting for the boys?”

  “For goodness’ sake, Sandy. We’re at home, not having tea with the queen.”

  “That’s no excuse for bad mann
ers, right, Ali?”

  Ali smiled. “Your boys are delightful,” she said diplomatically. “Dining with them has been a pleasure.”

  Hunter was impressed at how his instructor sidestepped the question, as if she hadn’t heard the burp contest the boys had started but their mother had put a stop to before they could declare a winner. Still, Sandy was shrewd, and he didn’t expect her to buy it for a second.

  But to his surprise, she brightened at the compliment.

  “So, Hunter, what made you take an etiquette class?” Sandy asked. “And don’t give me any of that self-improvement nonsense.”

  “It was Erica’s idea.” It was the first time her name had come up since he’d arrived. Moreover, it was the first time he’d thought about her all evening.

  Guilt prickled at him although he hadn’t done anything wrong. He and Ali had a professional relationship. They weren’t even friends. Not really. He glanced at his instructor, who was sipping the coffee Sandy and Pete had brought out to accompany the cake.

  Sandy frowned, her expression filled more with pity than disapproval. “So, is Erica still trying to kick down locked doors with her checkbook?”

  “She’ll come around,” Hunter said, feeling like a politician repeating the same tired sound bite. Judging from the expression on his friends’ faces, it had about the same effect as political verbiage.

  He was surprised when Ali interjected, “I’ve only had a brief glimpse of Erica, but I think having you on her side makes her a very lucky woman.”

  Ali’s words rang sincere, but her voice held a bittersweet note as she continued. “Loyalty is a very important quality in a partner.”

  Touched by the heartfelt support of a woman he hardly knew, Hunter thanked her with a barely perceptible incline of his head. Again, he wondered what kind of a man was responsible for the sadness lurking in the depths of her soft brown eyes.

  Had it been the ex-husband she’d clammed up about after mentioning on the ride over?

  Hunter felt a hand cover his. It was Sandy’s.

  “I don’t mean to come off so harsh. It’s just that we worry about you.” She glanced over at her husband, who cleared his throat.

  “So, Ali, what do you do when you aren’t teaching folks not to eat with their feet?” Pete asked.

  “I can eat with my feet. Wanna see?” one of the boys piped up.

  Both Hunter and Ali laughed at the long-suffering look Sandy shot her husband, and he looked over at his sons. “Don’t even think about it, fellas.”

  The boys’ disappointment didn’t stop them from holding out their plates for seconds on the delicious but rapidly disappearing cake.

  “Actually, the school itself has kept me pretty busy. It’s an old building and it’s fallen into disrepair over the years,” she said.

  “Ali’s been doing a lot of the repairs herself,” Hunter interjected, feeling a flicker of pride.

  “Wow, I’m impressed,” Pete said. “What kind of repairs?”

  “Just simple fixes so far. For example, this week I finished replacing all the ripped screens and broken windowpanes, and the other day I installed a motion-detector light. I’ve been reading about the rash of home burglaries in the paper, so I thought the light would be a good idea.”

  “Well, if you run out of things to do over there, I could use a hand around here. Between my crazy work schedule and keeping up with the boys, we’ve got a list a mile long of things that need doing around here I haven’t had a chance to get to,” Pete said. “And it costs so much to have someone come in and do the work.”

  Ali held up her hands, and Hunter noticed her nails were polished a pearly pink. “I’ve got more than I can handle right now?”

  Stifling a yawn, Hunter checked his watch. “It’s getting late, and Pete and I have another long day ahead of us tomorrow,” he said.

  “Thank you both for a lovely evening,” Ali said, rising from her chair.

  “We enjoyed having you, Ali,” Sandy said. “Boys, come say good night.”

  As the children practically attached themselves to him, Hunter felt a twinge of envy for Pete’s life. He was a lucky man to have this kind of love.

  An unexpected surge of longing hit, catching him off guard. He’d hoped he and Erica might find the same joy and fulfillment in raising a family.

  “You’ll be at my Little League game, right?” the oldest boy asked.

  Hunter dropped his index finger on the boy’s nose. “Of course I will.”

  “Are you going to bring your girlfriend?” the kid giggled, and pointed to Ali.

  Hunter and Ali exchanged awkward glances, before he watched her turn away. “She’s not my girlfriend, buddy. We’re just friends.”

  “She nice,” the middle boy said.

  “And pretty,” the youngest one of the brood chimed in.

  Hunter’s gaze flitted back to Ali, taking in her smooth caramel skin and glossy pink lips. He couldn’t help noticing the kids had a point. She was nice.

  However, they were wrong about her being merely pretty. Ali Spencer was beautiful.

  The realization lingered in the back of his mind as he drove her back to the restaurant to pick up her car. And again he reminded himself he had absolutely nothing to feel guilty over. He was simply a man who noticed an attractive woman.

  He switched the radio on. Not that Ali was the least bit interested in him anyway.

  “I hope the home-cooked meal made up for the mess I made of our lesson,” he said.

  Jazz covers of hip-hop tunes played softly in the background as he steered the car through the quiet residential neighborhood toward the main artery that fed into the interstate.

  “It was great,” she said. “I know it’s rude to go for seconds after showing up at dinner uninvited, but I couldn’t help myself. Hopefully, I didn’t embarrass you too badly.”

  “Honey, my face was buried too deeply in my own plate to notice.”

  She laughed and he took a moment to enjoy the melodious sound. The wall she’d erected around herself had slipped a few times tonight, and he’d caught her smiling at Pete and Sandy’s banter or giggling at one of the boy’s knock-knock jokes. To her credit, she didn’t check anyone on table manners violations, and he was sure there were plenty of them. Instead she’d blended in seamlessly with him and his friends as if she dined with them every night.

  He sneaked a peek of her in his peripheral vision. The hem of her dress had ridden up several inches, giving him a decadent eyeful of shapely thighs he knew led down to a pair of exceptionally appealing legs.

  The car swerved, and he forced his attention back to the road. He gripped the steering wheel tighter as if it would help him get a hold of his wayward thoughts.

  “Thank you for bringing me along tonight,” she said. “It’s been a while since I’ve enjoyed a meal with other people…” Her voice trailed off.

  “Glad you enjoyed yourself.”

  He glanced toward the passenger seat and saw her staring out of the window.

  “Your friends really care about you,” she said.

  Sadness tinged her tone, making him wish there was something he could say or do to make it go away.

  “I’m sure your friends back in Florida miss you too,” he offered.

  “They weren’t my friends.”

  They rode the remaining minutes to the restaurant in silence.

  “It’s the red Honda,” she said as he pulled into the parking lot.

  The lot was more crowded than when they’d left with European luxury sedans taking up nearly every space. Hunter slid into the first open spot he could find.

  “Wait,” he said, when he saw her go for the door handle.

  Rounding the car, he held open the passenger-side door. “I may not know the difference between water and sherry glasses, but I’ve always known how to treat a woman.”

  Ali jerked to her feet too fast and stumbled. Instinctively, Hunter reached out to steady her, and their eyes met. Heat sizzled where his hands
touched the soft skin of her bare arms.

  He inhaled the citrusy scent of her perfume as his gaze dropped down to her glossy pink lips.

  Hunter knew he should take his hands off her. Instead he drew her closer. The streetlights illuminated her face in the darkness, and her eyes locked with his.

  Hunter couldn’t remember ever wanting to kiss a woman as much as he wanted to kiss this one.

  A car horn blasted and Ali jerked back, breaking the spell she’d somehow weaved around him.

  He opened his mouth to apologize to give her some kind of explanation for his behavior, but he didn’t have one.

  “Good night, Hunter.” Ali practically ran to her car.

  He simply stood there, his mouth agape, watching the taillights of her car fade into the distance. One thought echoed through his mind.

  What in the hell just happened?

  Chapter Seven

  Ali muffled a yawn with her fist. Some professional you are, she thought, still disgusted at her behavior last night.

  She’d thought arriving at the school early would get Hunter off her mind and make her focus on the busy day ahead.

  However, visions of him and their near kiss continued to plague her as they had done to her restless dreams. Ali hugged herself, her fingers tracing the same spots his large hands had touched the night before.

  “Oh, just stop it,” she scolded. “You were all over the man. If you’d gotten any closer he would have had to zap you with a Taser.”

  Ali stalked over to her file cabinet, yanked open a middle drawer, and retrieved a stack of two-pocket folders. Plunking them down on her desk, she began stuffing the pockets with student material for the training program she was giving at a customer service phone bank this morning.

  None of this would have happened if she hadn’t left the restaurant with him, but at the time it had seemed so harmless. It had really been about the food.

  Ali stuffed the last folder and pulled a sheet of labels embossed with the school’s name in gold script from her desk drawer. She began affixing the labels to the front of the folders.

  Unfortunately, the mindless task allowed her mind to drift, and it drifted right back to Hunter. For a moment she let herself savor the memory of his lips so dangerously close to hers and entertain the questions it brought to mind.